about: You decide to pull a Tinder prank on your boyfriend
A/N: Proof read but definitely errors! warning in advance! Also this is my first time posting my writing gulp
WC: 1646
Reading time: 2 mins
you were just getting ready for bed, washing your face in the bathroom when a notification popped up on your phone. You grabbed your phone curious who was texting you so late. Oh! oh. It’s Wooyoung. what does he want?
“You should pull this prank on ur little puppy.”
*link attached*
Like the curious cat you were, you clicked on the link.
“hey babe..” “what?” “guess who I saw on tinder” “who?” “___” “WHAT?- wait why are you on tinder?”
You had to admit it was quite funny. This seems like a harmless joke. Why not try it? What could go wrong?
You exited the bathroom and went to your small bedroom. Placing your phone on its nightstand before laying down and heading to bed. Playing every imaginable scenario in your head before drifting off to sleep.
You were scrunched up beside Yunho. His arm draped around your waist. Your legs tangled together.
“Baby?”
You mumbled trying to gain his attention.
“Yeah?”
“wanna know something?”
“hmm..go ahead.”
“I saw Mingi on tinder” You let out a soft chuckle.
“WHAT?” He exclaimed.
He quickly removed his arm from your waist and hastily searched for Mingis number. You both waited silently till you both heard a chirpy, “hello~” Yunho quickly replied, “why are you on tinder I thought- you- wait-“
He slowly turned his head to you, “Why are YOU on tinder?!- Mingi I’ll call you back!” He quickly hung up giving his best friend no time to even answer him. He dropped his phone to his laps. His undivided attention all on you “My love why are you on tinder?..” “What does you mean?” “Why do you have tinder Babe?” He repeated, his tone obviously upset.
“Do you not love me no more..?” “What! No of course I love you! It’s just a dumb prank puppy- this is all Woos idea..” You cupped his squishy cheeks together and leaned closer to his face.
“Im sorry I did this stupid prank” You sighed, “I love you and would never cheat on you!” He chuckled, “Good..You’re mine..”
He burried his face into your neck. Leaving a small trail of kisses. “Mine mine mine..”
You’ve never asked him to choose you out loud. You assumed he would anyway. Until today, when someone else mistakes you for something temporary, and you decide to stop being patient and start being seen.
Pairing: Dom!Yunho x Brat!Reader
Tropes: Age-gap (40/mid-20s) Established Relationship. High Society Romance.
Genre: Smut. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff.
Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!yunho, public sexual activity, power dynamics, spanking, dirty talk, sexual humiliation elements, unprotected sex, heel play, objectification, orgasm denial, impact play, degradation, exhibitionism, emotional vulnerability, crying, possessive behavior, jealousy, insecurity, emotional distress, miscommunication, perceived emotional neglect, relationship insecurity, fear of public perception, age-gap relationship, explicit language,
Word Count: 9.3k
a/n: i need everyone to know that i don't even like feet. at all. so naturally i wrote almost 10k words where they're basically a supporting character. and the whiplash of going from writing sub mingi to dom yunho should honestly be enough to give anyone a headache.
based on [this] request
masterlist
Yunho still believes in dating you. Not because the relationship needs saving. Not because he thinks grand gestures are the secret to lasting love. He simply refuses to let the person he loves become someone he only sees between meetings.
Which is how you end up here. The restaurant glows with warm amber light reflected across crystal glasses and polished cutlery. Conversations dissolve beneath soft piano music, waiters glide silently between tables, and every detail, from the pressed linen to the wine list, whispers the kind of quiet luxury people spend weeks trying to reserve.
Yunho booked it the moment he found an evening that belonged to neither work nor obligation. Not because it's exclusive. Because he missed you.
Across the table, you shift for what must be the third time since sitting down. His eyes flick briefly beneath the table before returning to your face.
"The shoes?"
You sigh dramatically. "They're trying to kill me."
"They look beautiful."
"They're weapons."
"They're beautiful weapons."
You can't help smiling.
"You say that because you're not the one wearing them."
"No." His gaze lingers for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, warm enough to make your cheeks threaten a blush. "I'm the one who gets to look at them."
You shake your head, hiding your smile behind your wine glass.
The conversation slips easily into familiar territory after that. His latest project. Your week. A trip the two of you keep promising to plan and never quite finding the time for.
Somewhere in the middle, you mention a singer that's apparently impossible to escape these days.
Yunho frowns thoughtfully.
"I've never heard of them."
You look at him over the rim of your glass.
"You're making your age very obvious tonight."
"I've spent forty years carefully building that privilege."
"You could at least pretend to know."
"I could." A beat. "I'd rather have you explain it."
You laugh quietly, shaking your head.
"You're impossible."
"So I've been told."
There's something wonderfully unfair about the way he says it. Completely unbothered. Never defensive. Never trying to convince you he's younger than he is. He wears the years between you with the same quiet confidence he wears one of his tailored suits, as though neither has ever occurred to him as something needing justification.
You tease him because it's easy. He lets you because he likes the sound of your laugh.
By the time your starters appear, you've somehow moved from music to books to the strange corners of the internet that never seem to find their way onto Yunho's phone.
He only understands about half of what you're talking about. You know because he tells you. And yet he never stops listening. His attention never wanders.
Every now and then, you catch him looking at you over the candle between you. Not saying anything. Just watching with that quiet, unwavering fondness that has always belonged to the two of you.
It never feels like being observed. It feels like coming home.
The interruption slips so easily into the evening that, at first, you don't think anything of it.
"Yunho?"
He looks up.
For the first time all night, surprise brightens his face before settling into a smile you haven't seen since you walked into the restaurant.
"...Wow." He stands almost instinctively. "It's been years."
She laughs as she steps closer, arms already opening. Yunho returns the hug without hesitation, one hand resting briefly against the middle of her back before they separate again. Easy. Familiar. The kind of greeting that belongs to people who've crossed paths enough times for formality to disappear.
"You look exactly the same."
"So do you."
"No chance."
"I've become a much better liar."
He laughs, and something inside you softens.
Of course he knows people. He's spent twenty years building a career that seems to exist somewhere between boardrooms, charity galas and airports. It would be stranger if old acquaintances didn't recognize him.
She fits naturally into that world. Elegant dress. Confident smile. Around his age. The sort of woman who never looks intimidated by expensive restaurants because she's been having dinners like these for years.
They fall into conversation without effort. Fundraisers. Old colleagues. Someone retiring. Someone getting married. Names you've never heard and places you've never been.
You let yourself fade into the background for a while, content to listen. You know Yunho likes introducing people properly rather than interrupting conversations halfway through. He'll get there.
"I haven't seen you at anything lately," she says eventually.
"I've been hiding."
"Still?"
He smiles.
"Work."
She shakes her head, pretending to be disappointed.
"What a shame."
There's something in the way she says it that makes you glance up. Not inappropriate. Just interested. Interested enough that, without realizing it, you find yourself waiting.
Surely now. Surely this is where Yunho smiles, reaches across the table, brushes his fingers against yours and says the simplest sentence in the world.
I'm here with my girlfriend.
He doesn't. Instead, he answers whatever she'd asked next, completely unaware that you've stopped following the conversation.
You tell yourself not to be ridiculous. He's just being polite. Another minute passes. She laughs again.
"So you finally found a reason to leave the office?"
"I try."
"I was beginning to think you'd married your work."
"I've considered divorcing it."
She laughs harder than the joke deserves. You smile politely. Still waiting. Still giving him the chance. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns to you.
"And you?"
You blink. "Sorry?"
"What do you do?"
You answer, and she listens with genuine interest. She asks about your work, compliments it, tells you it's impressive.
For one brief moment, the knot inside your chest loosens. Then she looks back at Yunho.
"You've always had good taste." He raises an eyebrow. "In people," she clarifies with a smile. "You always surround yourself with interesting company."
Yunho nods once.
"I've been lucky."
Lucky. That's all. No glance toward you. No quiet smile that says she's mine. No effortless correction. Nothing.
The conversation moves on, but something inside you doesn't. Because the awful part isn't that she's flirting. The awful part is that she has absolutely no reason not to. She's speaking to a man she believes is single. And the only person who could have told her otherwise keeps choosing not to.
When she finally excuses herself, her fingers brush lightly over his sleeve.
"You should come to the gala next month."
"We'll see."
"I'd love to catch up properly."
Her smile lingers for a heartbeat longer before she disappears into the restaurant. Yunho watches her leave with the absent familiarity of someone remembering an old colleague. Then he sits back down, reaches for his wine and smiles to himself.
"She's exactly the same as she was ten years ago."
"Mhm."
You smile because smiling costs less than speaking. Because saying what you're actually thinking would ruin the evening.
"As I was saying..." He settles back into his chair, picking up the conversation exactly where he'd left it. "The board wants to move the launch to September, which makes absolutely no sense because we'd have to renegotiate every supplier."
His voice fades into the background. You hear it. You just aren't listening anymore. Not really. You're still sitting at the same table as him, but your mind is trapped five minutes in the past, replaying every smile, every laugh, every opportunity he had to choose you out loud. All you can think is how easy it would've been. One sentence. One look. One absentminded reach for your hand.
Anything that said she's with me. Instead, for ten long minutes, you felt like the centerpiece on the table. Beautiful. Expensive. And entirely decorative. Less like the woman sharing dinner with him and more like someone who happened to be sitting at his table.
"That's nice."
Yunho pauses. He mistakes the tightness in your voice for exhaustion. Or maybe he notices it and decides to give you space. Either way, he lets it pass.
"I wouldn't call it nice."
You blink, as though you've only just remembered he's speaking. "What?"
"I asked what you thought."
You shrug lightly. "I think you should do whatever makes you happy."
His brows knit together.
"Dove."
"Hm?"
"I stopped talking about work a while ago."
"Oh." You take another sip of wine, buying yourself a second. "I must've missed it."
His eyes stay on you. Long enough that you almost think he's going to ask what's wrong. Long enough that a tiny, hopeful part of you waits for him to.
Instead, a waiter stops beside the table. Perfect. This is the moment you decide you’re done being mature. Which is unfortunate. Because you’re usually very good at it.
You look up with a smile so bright it surprises even you.
"Sorry," you say, almost apologetically. "Can I ask you something?"
He's young. Pretty in the effortless way university students always seem to be.
You ask about the desserts. Then whether the cocktails are actually worth ordering. Then which dish he likes best.
He answers easily. You laugh at one of his jokes. It isn't even that funny.
Yunho watches the exchange in silence. Not because there's anything inappropriate about it. Because there isn't. Which somehow makes the knot in your chest tighten even more. You're doing exactly what he did. Being polite. Being friendly. Nothing more.
When the waiter finally excuses himself, Yunho doesn't say anything straight away. He waits until the young man disappears around the corner. Only then does he look at you.
"What was that?"
You tilt your head. "What was what?"
"You've asked him more questions in two minutes than you've asked me all night."
"I was being polite."
"You were interviewing him."
"He seemed nice."
"I'm sure he did."
You smile into your glass. "I liked his smile."
Silence. You don't need to look up to feel his eyes on you. When you finally do, his expression has changed almost imperceptibly. Not jealousy. Confusion.
"You liked his smile."
"It was a nice smile."
He studies you for a long moment. Like he's waiting for the punchline. Like he's convinced this version of you can't possibly be real. Eventually he shakes his head, choosing not to take the bait.
"So..." he tries again, "I was thinking maybe we could..."
You pick up your phone. His voice stops. You unlock it. Scroll. You couldn't say what you're looking at if someone asked. The screen is just somewhere else to put your eyes.
"Dove."
"Hm?"
"Put the phone away."
"Why?"
His patience holds. Barely.
"Because I'm talking to you."
You don't look up. "So?"
The word hangs there. Small. Careless. Sharp enough to cut.
"So..." He exhales slowly, choosing every word with visible effort. "I'd appreciate it if you listened."
You laugh quietly. "I listened to her."
Silence. Real silence. The kind that empties the space around it.
"...What?"
You finally meet his eyes. "I listened very politely."
Something flickers across his face. Not understanding. Recognition.
"You've been upset ever since she left."
"I'm not upset."
"No?"
"No."
"You've barely looked at me."
"I've looked at you loads."
You punctuate the sentence by stealing a bite from his plate. Not because you're hungry. Because it's his. Because you know he'll stop you.
His fingers close gently around your wrist before your fork reaches the food. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you stop. He looks down at your hand. Then back at you.
"...Really?"
You smile with infuriating sweetness. "I wanted to know if yours tasted better."
"You ordered the exact same thing."
"It does."
"Dove..."
"It tastes different."
"It's the same recipe."
"It isn't."
"It objectively is."
"It isn't to me."
He lets go of your wrist with a slow breath, rubbing a hand across his mouth as though he's physically trying to hold onto the last thread of his patience.
"You are being impossible."
"I'm eating dinner."
"No." His eyes don't leave yours. "You're trying to punish me."
The words catch you off guard. For just a second. Long enough for him to notice.
"I haven't argued with you once," you say quietly.
"You don't have to." His voice drops lower. "You've spent the last fifteen minutes trying to make me feel something."
You force another smile.
"What exactly am I trying to make you feel?"
"I don't know." There's frustration there now. Real frustration. "That's the problem."
He leans back, studying you with the same expression he wears when something at work refuses to make sense. Like he's looking at all the pieces and none of them fit.
"I know you." His voice softens despite himself. "This..." His eyes search yours. "...isn't you."
Something twists painfully inside your chest. You could tell him. You could end this right now. You could say, You made me feel invisible. Instead, you swallow it. Smile. Tilt your head.
"I don't know what you're talking about."
And for the first time all evening, Yunho stops trying to continue the conversation. Because whatever happened to the woman he walked into this restaurant with, he has no idea how to reach her anymore.
You know you're being unfair. You know this isn't you. But the version of yourself that spent the last ten minutes feeling invisible is louder than the one who usually knows better.
You just want him to look at you.
You casually drop your napkin and bend down to retrieve it, taking just a second longer than necessary to adjust the strap of your heel. When you straighten again, Yunho is already looking at you.
"Something wrong?" you ask, all innocent eyes.
"Nothing," he replies, a little too quickly.
"Hm."
You smooth your napkin back across your lap as though you've finally decided to behave. Yunho almost believes it. Then you reach for the dessert menu.
"I think I'm getting dessert."
"We haven't finished dinner."
"I like planning ahead." Your finger drifts lazily down the list before you smile to yourself. "This one sounds nice."
Yunho doesn't even look.
"What one?"
"The vanilla mille-feuille." You tilt the menu toward yourself. "I've heard the chef is very generous with the cream."
His fork stops halfway to his mouth.
"Dove."
"What?" You glance up. "I like cream."
His jaw flexes. "You know exactly what you're doing."
"I do?" Your eyebrows lift with practiced innocence. "I'm ordering dessert."
"You haven't ordered anything."
"I'm thinking about it."
His jaw tightens.
"Think about something else."
You hum as though you're genuinely considering the suggestion.
For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. Around you, cutlery clinks against porcelain, conversations drift lazily through the restaurant, and somewhere a bottle of wine is uncorked.
Only your table feels painfully quiet. You smile into the menu.
"I just want something sweet."
His eyes finally meet yours. "You are testing my patience."
"No." You lower the menu carefully. "I'm participating in the conversation."
"Dove."
"You said I wasn't talking enough."
"I also said to behave."
"I am."
"You've never looked less convincing."
The corner of your mouth twitches.
"Really?" you say with a shrug, crossing your legs slowly under the table, letting your foot brush against his calf. "I'm just enjoying dinner."
His breath hitches at the contact, and he pulls his leg away slightly. "Don't."
"Don't what?" you ask, voice dropping to a whisper as you lean closer. "Don't touch you? Don't talk about dessert? Don't breathe?"
"You're playing games," he accuses, but his voice has lost some of its edge.
"I'm just being myself," you reply with a small smile, tracing patterns on the tablecloth with your finger. "Unless you'd prefer I be more like her?"
Yunho's jaw tightens at the mention of the other woman. "That's not what I said."
"Then what did you mean?" you challenge, your foot finding his leg again and staying there this time.
For the first time that evening, something flashes across Yunho's face. Not anger. Not yet. Impatience. The kind that only exists because he cares enough to keep trying. And somehow, that only makes some childish, wounded part of you decide that's still not enough.
You let your other foot join the first, the expensive Louboutins he bought you last month now hidden under the tablecloth. The ones he always says make your legs look endless. The ones he loves seeing you in when he's buried inside you.
"Dove," he warns, his voice tight.
"Yunho," you mimic, your voice syrupy sweet as you apply more pressure with your foot. "Problem?"
Your pointed toe traces the seam of his trousers until you reach his balls. You press gently, just enough to make him shift in his seat. His knuckles turn white on his fork, but he doesn't look away from you.
Yunho keeps acting as if everything is normal. But his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He has a thing for your heels, always has. The way they look on you, the sound they make on marble floors, the marks they sometimes leave on his thighs when you're riding him.
"Behave," he grunts under his breath.
You blink innocently. "I am behaving."
His eyes darken. "No, you're not."
You smirk slightly. "Don't you like it?"
Yunho doesn't push. Not yet. Because you’re in public. Because he trusts you. Because he likes it when you want him. Because maybe you're just having fun. And god help him, because his dick is already responding to your touches.
"Remember when you fucked me in these?" you whisper, leaning forward. "How you said they should've been illegal?"
Yunho remembers. He also remembers paying for them. Looking back, he should've left them in the shop.
He grows increasingly tense. Because this isn't you. Because something is wrong. Because you’re choosing a spectacularly inconvenient time to express it. And because despite his concern, he's getting painfully hard.
Then you cross the line. Not maliciously. Desperately, your foot travels higher, the pointed toe now rubbing against his length. You can feel him twitch and grow under your touch. His jaw clenches, but he doesn't look away from you. He's trying to win this silent battle, trying to pretend you're not affecting him.
"Stop," he mouths, his eyes dark with fury and arousal.
You just smile, rubbing your foot against him in slow, torturous circles. "Make me."
His hand shoots out under the table, fingers wrapping around your ankle in a grip that's both punishing and possessive.
"Enough," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You need to stop."
His voice is low enough that nobody else hears it. You do.
The hand around your ankle loosens almost immediately, his fingers sliding away as though he's only just realized how tightly he'd been holding you. The warmth of his palm lingers against your skin for a second longer than the touch itself.
Neither of you moves. Neither of you says anything. The restaurant keeps existing around you. Glasses clink. Someone laughs two tables over. A waiter walks past carrying a bottle of wine as if the world hasn't just tilted on its axis.
Yunho looks at you. His breathing is uneven. His jaw is locked so tightly you can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. There is still frustration written all over his face, but underneath it, buried somewhere deeper, is something that twists painfully in your chest.
Worry. Not embarrassment. Not annoyance. Worry.
He pushes his chair back.
"Come with me."
You don't answer. He leans down instead, close enough that only you can hear him.
"Now."
The word isn't loud. It doesn't need to be. Yunho has never raised his voice at you. He doesn't have to.
You stand without another argument. His hand finds your wrist first, then slips lower until it settles against the small of your back, guiding you through the restaurant with a firmness you've never felt from him before. Every step keeps you tucked against his side.
The walk feels endless. Your heels catch against the polished floor more than once, forcing you to stumble to keep up with his pace. Usually he'd notice. Usually he'd slow down immediately, his hand tightening instinctively around yours before asking if your feet hurt.
Tonight he doesn't. Not because he doesn't care. Because his mind is somewhere else entirely.
"What were you thinking?"
His voice is quiet. Controlled. Which somehow makes it worse.
You swallow. "I don't know."
A humorless laugh escapes him through his nose.
"Clearly."
The word lands harder than if he'd shouted. You flinch.
The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the music, the conversations, the comfortable illusion that tonight had started as a date.
Silence settles immediately.
Yunho turns to face you. His tie sits slightly crooked. His hair is messier than it was twenty minutes ago. The picture of composure is still there, but only if someone doesn't know where to look.
You do. His jaw is set so tightly it almost hurts to see. For a long moment, he simply looks. Like he's trying to recognize you again.
"Explain."
"I..."
Nothing.
He waits. Not impatiently. Expectantly. When you still don't answer, he exhales through his nose, rubing a tired hand across his face.
"Talk to me."
You stare at the floor.
"I didn't like her."
"I gathered that."
"You were flirting with her."
His expression doesn't change. "No."
"You were."
"I wasn't."
"You laughed at everything she said."
"I was being polite."
"You hugged her."
"She hugged me."
"You let her touch you."
"And?"
The question lands harder than if he'd argued. You stare at him.
"You never stopped her."
For the first time, Yunho goes quiet. Not because he doesn't have an answer. Because he's finally hearing the one thing you've been trying so desperately not to say. He studies your face for a long moment before speaking again.
"...There it is."
Your throat tightens.
"What?"
"That's what this has been about."
You look away before he can see your eyes burn. He notices anyway. He takes one slow step closer.
"Dove." You keep staring at the floor. Another step. "Look at me."
You hate how difficult that suddenly is. When your eyes finally lift to his, your voice comes out so much smaller than you intended.
"You never told her."
A small crease appears between his brows.
"Told her what?"
"That I was your girlfriend."
Silence. Real silence. Yunho blinks once. Not because he's caught. Because the thought genuinely never crossed his mind. You let out a brittle laugh.
"...See?"
"Dove."
"No."
You shake your head before he can interrupt.
"She looked at me like I was... I don't know... your assistant. Someone you brought because you didn't want to eat alone."
His face changes. Just enough.
"I don't care what she thought."
"I do."
The words break apart on the way out.
"I do because you never gave her a reason to think anything else."
Yunho's shoulders still. His eyes search yours. Not defensive. Thinking. Working backwards through the evening. Then, very quietly...
"Is that what you believed?"
You don't answer. Because answering would make it real. He watches you for another second. Then your whisper finally comes.
"Sometimes..." Your voice almost disappears. "Sometimes it feels like you keep me separate."
He doesn't answer. Which somehow hurts even more. Instead, he closes his eyes. Only for a heartbeat. When they open again, something inside them has shifted.
You fill the silence yourself. "Maybe you're embarrassed."
His head lifts. "No."
"Maybe you don't want people wondering why you're dating someone younger."
"Dove."
"Maybe you think they'll look at you and..."
"Stop."
The word lands like stone. Certain. He closes the distance between you in two measured steps, stopping just close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. One hand wraps gently around your forearm. Grounding. Not restraining. His thumb strokes your skin once.
"Don't do that."
Your eyes finally spill over. "Do what?"
His own jaw tightens.
"Don't tell me what I think." A beat passes between you. "Don't tell me what I feel." His voice is still calm. Still measured. But it cracks ever so slightly around the edges. "Especially when you're so wrong."
You don't argue. You don't defend yourself. Because for the first time that evening, you hear your own words the way he heard them. And they're ugly. You weren't accusing him. You were telling him you'd believed, even for a little while, that the man who loves you was ashamed to stand beside you.
The fight drains out of you all at once, leaving nothing behind except embarrassment and the quiet realization of how badly you've needed him to understand.
Yunho sees it happen. He watches your shoulders fold inward. Watches your eyes drop. Watches the bravado disappear as quickly as it arrived. And in that instant, the irritation he's been carrying since the restaurant slips away almost completely.
Because you were never trying to make him miserable. You were trying, desperately and terribly, to ask one question you didn't know how to put into words.
His hand loosens around your arm. His shoulders drop with a tired exhale. When he speaks again, the steel is still there. But now it's wrapped around something infinitely softer.
"...Do you really think so little of me?"
The question steals the air from your lungs. Not because he's angry. Because he's hurt. Because beneath every stern word since you walked into this bathroom had been something else entirely.
Fear. Fear that something had happened to you. Fear that he'd somehow missed it. Fear that the woman he loves had spent an entire dinner convincing herself she wasn't enough.
You drop your eyes.
"I'm sorry."
"No." His voice is gentle now. "I am sorry."
You look back up confused. He reaches out then, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips linger for just a second against your cheek, almost hesitant after everything that was said.
"I don't talk about my private life at work."
You frown. "I know."
"No." His thumb strokes your cheek once. "I mean..." He searches for the right words, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't talk about it. Ever."
The confession sounds strangely vulnerable coming from him. Yunho always knows what to say. Except now.
"I don't talk about my parents. I don't talk about my brother. I don't talk about holidays." A faint smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, humorless this time. "Half the people I work with barely know anything about me."
You listen quietly. Because it's true. You've heard him dodge personal questions before. Seen him redirect conversations so smoothly people never realized he'd done it. You'd just never put yourself in that category.
His hand slips from your cheek to the side of your neck, warm against your skin.
"I've spent years building that habit." His thumb moves absentmindedly beneath your ear. "So naturally..." He lets out another slow breath. "I did the same thing tonight."
Your chest tightens. He isn't defending himself, he's retracing his own steps, trying to find the moment he got it wrong.
A sad smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.
"I thought I was protecting my peace." His gaze softens. "I didn't realize I was asking you to carry the cost of it."
Something inside you gives way. Not all at once. Quietly. Like ice finally cracking under spring sunlight.
"I should've seen it," he murmurs. "I should've realized what that looked like from where you were standing. I should've introduced you." Your eyes close for half a second. "I should've made it obvious."
The first tear escapes before you can stop it. Yunho catches it with the pad of his thumb almost instinctively. Not because he found the perfect explanation. Because he isn't looking for one. He's simply standing in front of you, taking responsibility for a hurt he never intended to cause.
"I'm sorry, Dove."
You laugh weakly through the tears.
"You never apologize."
"I do."
"No, you don't."
"I do," he repeats softly. "When I'm wrong."
The corner of your mouth lifts despite yourself. Relief flickers across his face so briefly you almost miss it. He studies you for another moment, then sighs, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders.
"You scared me tonight." The confession is barely above a whisper. "I didn't know who I was sitting across from."
Shame crashes over you all over again.
"I'm sorry..."
"I know."
He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he leans forward until his forehead rests lightly against yours. The contact is warm. Familiar. The kind that always slows your breathing before you even realize it's happening.
Then he kisses you. Softly. Nothing like the way he kissed you earlier. Nothing demanding. Nothing that steals the air from your lungs. Just a slow press of his lips against yours, gentle enough that it feels less like desire and more like reassurance.
I'm still here.
When he pulls away, he doesn't move far. One hand is still cradling your jaw, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek as though letting go isn't something he's ready to do yet.
"You really aren't embarrassed?" you ask quietly.
The question slips out before you can stop it. You regret it immediately. Yunho's eyebrows draw together so quickly it almost hurts to watch.
"Embarrassed?" He searches your face as if he's trying to understand how your mind could've built that conclusion. "Of you?" He lets out a quiet, disbelieving breath.
His other hand comes up to cup your face, leaving you held between both of his palms as though you're something far more fragile than either of you would like to admit.
"Are you out of your mind?"
Heat rushes to your cheeks. You want the floor to open beneath your feet.
"I just..."
The words refuse to come. Instead, another question does. Quieter this time.
"You still love me?"
Yunho simply stares. Not because he's offended. Because he genuinely can't believe that's the question you've been carrying around.
"That's your question?"
You look away instantly. "I shouldn't have asked."
"No." His fingers guide your face back toward him before you can hide. "You don't get to run away now."
His thumb brushes beneath your eye again, wiping away another tear before it falls.
"After everything we've just talked about..."
He smiles then. Small. Disbelieving. So full of affection it makes your chest ache.
"I love you." Simple. Certain. No hesitation. "I loved you when we walked into that restaurant." His thumb strokes slowly across your cheek. "I loved you while you spent an hour driving me out of my mind." The corner of his mouth twitches despite himself. "And I'm still standing here loving you now." Your breath catches. "There isn't a room in this world where I'd be embarrassed to stand beside you."
His forehead rests lightly against yours.
"If anything..." He continues with a quiet smile. "I'm usually wondering what I did to deserve being the man who gets to walk in with you."
Your eyes close. Not because you're crying anymore. Because your heart simply doesn't know what to do with that.
"You are not something I hide." A beat. "You are the best part of my life."
The silence stretches comfortably between you. This one doesn't hurt. This one heals.
Then Yunho leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead. Another against your temple. One more against your cheek, each one slower than the last, as though he's trying to erase every ugly thought you'd carried into this room.
You smile despite yourself. It lasts all of two seconds. Because when he leans back, there's something new in his expression. The misunderstanding is gone. The hurt has been named. You've forgiven each other.
Which means there's only one thing left to deal with. The spectacular disaster you created out there. And judging by the look Yunho gives you, you're not getting away with that conversation quite so easily.
"You caused me a great deal of trouble tonight."
The words aren't harsh. They're quiet. Which somehow makes them impossible to hide from.
You drop your gaze. "I'm sorry."
"I know." His hand finds yours again, turning it over gently until your fingers rest against his palm. "I forgive you."
Hope flickers across your face. Then he continues.
"But forgiveness doesn't erase the problem."
Your breath catches. You look back up at him. His expression is unreadable. Calm. Patient. Completely in control again.
"What... problem?"
Yunho pulls your hand and places it against the obvious tension beneath the expensive fabric of his trousers. Heat rushes into your face as you inhale sharply.
"Oh."
"Oh?" Yunho lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You knew exactly what you were doing."
You immediately look away.
"I said I was sorry."
"You did." His fingers tighten around yours, pressing your palm more firmly against the hardness beneath his trousers. "And I accepted your apology."
You swallow. "Then...?"
"Then we address the consequences." His voice drops lower.
He steps closer. Your back finds the wall. Not trapped. Just nowhere else you'd rather be. Yunho reaches up, thumb brushing lightly across your jaw. Patient. Composed. Entirely too in control.
"You started this, Dove." His eyes darken. "Now you're going to finish it."
You bite your lip. "Here?"
"Where else?" His thumb traces your bottom lip. "You wanted to play games in public. Let's see how well you play when the stakes are real."
Your knees feel weak. "Yunho..."
"Unless you'd rather I take care of this myself?" He challenges, his voice low and rough. "But I don't think that's what you want, is it?"
You shake your head slowly, unable to form words.
"No." His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. "I didn't think so."
He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You wanted my attention? You have it. All of it. Now, are you going to fix what you broke?"
You nod, your heart pounding. "Yes."
"Good."
The word has barely left his mouth before he's pulling you toward him.
One hand remains firm around the back of your neck, fingers spread wide beneath your hair. The other lands at your waist with enough certainty to steal the breath from your lungs, drawing you flush against him in a single, decisive movement.
"Now, be a good girl and show me how sorry you really are. Come here."
It's the last warning you get.
His mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is deep before you have time to think, your startled gasp swallowed immediately as he claims the space between your lips. There isn't an ounce of hesitation in him now. No careful testing. No gentle reassurance. Every slow, measured restraint he's held onto since dinner seems to disappear into the kiss instead.
Your fingers instinctively clutch at the front of his jacket, wrinkling the expensive fabric beneath your fists as your balance disappears beneath the force of him.
Yunho doesn't let you drift away. His hand tightens at your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his breathing rough against your cheek every time the kiss breaks for the briefest heartbeat before he finds your mouth again. Like he's still angry. Still relieved. Still trying to convince himself you're here and that you're finally letting him in.
By the time he finally pulls back, neither of you is breathing properly. He doesn't give you room to recover. His forehead settles against yours almost immediately, his grip on your waist never loosening, your bodies still pressed together so completely you can feel the rise and fall of every uneven breath.
His eyes stay closed for a long moment.
"So stubborn," he murmurs, the words almost disappearing between your mouths.
His thumb presses once against your side, firm enough to remind you exactly whose arms you're standing in.
The silence between you changes. The misunderstanding is gone. The tenderness is still there, buried somewhere beneath everything else. But what hangs between you now is heavier. Tighter. The kind of tension that makes the room suddenly feel too small to contain either of you.
Before you can smile, before your arms can find their way around his neck, his hands shift. One slides to the small of your back. The other gently catches your wrist. With one smooth movement, he turns you until your back meets his chest.
His body follows yours immediately, close enough that you feel the warmth of him through the fabric of your dress as he guides you forward. Two careful steps. Then your thighs meet the cool marble of the sink, and he stops behind you.
"Hands on the counter," he commands, his voice a low rumble against your ear.
You comply, your palms flat on the stone, your heart hammering against your ribs.
"You are a dangerous woman," he mutters against your shoulder before he bites down harshly, teeth sinking into skin where your dress won't cover it.
"Yunho," you whimper softly.
"Spread your legs," he commands.
You don’t have time to comply. He kicks your feet apart with his own, widening your stance.
His gaze drops to your feet, still encased in the shoes he bought you.
"Still wearing these," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "The ones that were torturing me all night. Every time you crossed your legs, every time you tapped that fucking heel against the table... I wanted to bend you over right there."
His hands are rough as they hike your dress up, bunching the fabric at your waist. The cool air hits your exposed skin.
"Look at you," he murmurs, his gaze predatory in the mirror. "All dressed up, and so beautiful but so, so misbehaving."
"Sorry," you whisper, your voice shaky.
His hand comes down hard on your ass. The sharp smack echoes in the tiled room. You cry out, more from surprise than pain.
"Louder."
"Sorry!" you repeat, stronger this time.
Another smack, this one on the other cheek, leaving a warm sting. "Good girl."
His hand comes down twice more in rapid succession, the sharp smacks echoing in the tiled room. Your flesh stings when he digs his nails into the sensitive skin, scratching hard enough to leave faint pink trails that make you whimper.
Yunho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Instead of sliding them down, he grips the delicate lace and pulls with brutal force.
The fabric tears with a sharp sound, your knees trembling at the violence of it. Before you can collapse, he bucks his hips forward, pinning you more firmly against the cold marble of the sink.
"I'll be keeping these," he states. "A reminder for you to behave next time we're out."
He spreads your ass cheeks, exposing you completely.
"Teasing me all night got you this wet? Such a messy girl for me."
He spits, watching the saliva trickle down your cleft before using two fingers to rub it over your clit and entrance. You push back against his hand, a desperate whine escaping your lips.
"Ah ah," he tuts, withdrawing his hand. He brings his glistening fingers to your mouth, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "Open. Taste yourself."
You obey, parting your lips as he slides his fingers into your mouth. You suck greedily, swirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, mixing itself with the wine from dinner. His eyes darken as he watches you.
"Fuck," he groans, pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. "You don't get to dictate the pace. Not tonight. Tonight, I use you."
The sound of his belt buckle clinking open makes your heart race. Then the slow rasp of his zipper being lowered follows, each tooth releasing with agonizing slowness that has you trembling with anticipation.
He frees himself with one hand, the other pressing down firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over. He rubs the head of his cock through your wetness, coating himself in your arousal but not entering.
"Please, Yunho," you beg, trying to push back onto him.
He delivers another sharp slap to your ass.
"I said no."
He lines himself up with your entrance and, without warning, slams into you in one brutal thrust.
You both groan. He's impossibly deep like this, the angle unforgiving. The marble digs into your thighs with the force of his entry.
He gives you no time to adjust, setting a punishing rhythm from the start. Each thrust is hard, fast, designed to stake a claim. The sound of skin slapping skin is obscene, mixing with your helpless whimpers and his low grunts.
Your high heels tremble dangerously beneath you, the stiletto points scraping uselessly against the tile as your legs struggle to support you under the force of his movements.
He captures one of your wrists, twisting it behind your back and pinning it there. He uses the leverage to push you further down, until your face is inches from the mirror, your breath fogging the glass.
His other hand finds your hair, winding it around his fist. He pulls, just enough to arch your back and force you to look at your reflection in the mirror.
"Watch," he growls, his hips never ceasing their assault. "Watch me fuck you. See how you take it? How desperate you are for my cock?"
Your eyes are glassy with tears of pleasure and pain, your mouth slack.
He looks so powerful behind you, his expression dark with lust, his expensive suit still perfectly tailored and pristine while you’re a mess beneath him.
"You teased me all night," he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. "Rubbing your little foot on my dick. Making me hard in front of everyone. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked like the little brat you are?"
"Yes!" you cry out. "Yes, I'm sorry!"
"You will be." He releases your hair only to grab your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pistons into you. Your legs start to shake, but he continues his relentless pace, driving into you again and again.
He lowers his body, the expensive fabric of his suit brushing against your back as he leans down.
His tongue traces a path up your spine, making you shudder. He licks the exposed skin of your neck, then bites down on your earlobe, just enough to make you gasp.
Then he places his lips against the back of your head, not kissing, just pressing there to keep you in place and muffle his own moans.
"Fuck," he grunts against your hair, his voice muffled. "So tight. So perfect for me."
He presses a soft peck to your hair before straightening up, his gaze fixed on where you two are connected. His hand comes down hard on your ass once again. Then he grips the reddened flesh tightly, spreading your cheeks apart to watch himself disappear inside you with each powerful thrust.
Your forehead presses against the cool glass of the mirror, eyes closed as you focus on the sensation of him filling you so completely.
Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, his length hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes the coil in your stomach tighten, ready to snap.
"I'm gonna… Yunho, I'm close..."
"No, you're not."
With a sudden, cruel movement, he pulls out of you completely, leaving you empty and aching. You cry out at the loss, your body trembling with the denied release.
"Yunho, please..."
"Please what?" he growls, wrapping his hand around his slick cock and stroking himself a few times. Your juices glisten on his length in the dim light.
"You don't get to come yet. You haven't earned it. You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it."
His hand comes down hard on your left cheek, then your right, two rapid, harsh smacks that echo in the tiled bathroom.
The sharp sting makes you gasp, your flesh blooming red under his touch. He soothes the burning skin with his large palms, the contrast of roughness and tenderness making your head spin.
"Such a pretty color on you," he murmurs appreciatively before gripping your hips again.
He slams back into you without warning, even deeper than before. Your legs nearly give out. He slows his pace slightly, making each thrust more deliberate, more punishing.
"You wanted to act like a bitch? Fine. Now you're getting fucked like one. No relief. Just me, using this tight little pussy until I'm satisfied."
The bathroom door swings open. You freeze, a gasp caught in your throat as humiliation washes over you. Through the mirror, you see the woman from earlier pause in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.
Your hands fly back, trying to push Yunho away, to create any distance between your bodies, but your arms feel like lead.
His arm circles your chest, pulling you upright against him until your back is flush with his chest. The new angle allows him to drive into you even deeper, his hips snapping with more intensity.
Defeated, you rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes rolling back involuntarily, your mind going blank with overwhelming pleasure. You can't think, can't speak. You can only feel him filling you so good.
"Don't get embarrassed now," Yunho snarls in your ear, his thrusts never faltering. He doesn't even look at the intruder. His eyes are boring into yours in the mirror, a silent, possessive challenge. "Let her see who makes you feel this good. Let her see what my woman looks like when she's being properly fucked."
Your hand shoots out, gripping his wrist desperately to maintain your balance as your knees threaten to give out. Your other hand presses flat against the sink surface, fingers splayed wide as you try to anchor yourself.
The woman watches for another second before muttering an apology and backing out quickly, pulling the door closed behind her.
Yunho lets out a dark chuckle. "Good girl. You did so well."
When one particularly loud moan escapes, he covers your mouth with his hand.
"Shhh, baby. I know, believe me, I know." He groans low when you squeeze around him involuntarily. "You know I love hearing you, dove, but I'd rather not have security escort us out of a restaurant I spent three weeks getting reservations for."
Then he replaces his hand with two fingers in your mouth. You immediately suck and lick them, drool falling down your chin. He bites his own lip as he watches you, his eyes dark with hunger.
"Fuck," Yunho groans, his eyes darkening with pure devotion and angry lust. "That's it. So pretty."
He guides your chin toward the mirror, forcing you to look at your reflection.
"Look at you," he murmurs against your temple. "So beautiful when you're falling apart for me."
Your body is like putty against him, your dress disheveled with one strap fallen down your shoulder, your hair a mess, mascara smudged beneath your eyes.
He removes his fingers from your mouth, slick with your saliva, and traces them over your lips.
"Watch," he commands softly.
Then his hand slides down your body, finding your clit. He begins circling it, watching how easily you respond to his touches in your reflection with such intensity it feels like he's devouring you. Your hips buck against his hand, against his cock still buried inside you.
"Now, since you were so good... you can come," he pants against your lips. "Come for me, Dove. Squeeze my fucking cock."
That's all it takes. Your orgasm tears through you, violent and overwhelming. You scream his name, your body convulsing as your vision whites out.
He follows you over the edge a minute later with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, hips jerking with the force of his release.
He grabs your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back. He cradles your face with his other hand, forcing you to meet his gaze as he continues to thrust through his orgasm.
"I love you," he breathes, desperate and raw. "God, I love you so much." he grunts as he pulses inside you.
"Love you too," you whisper, tears in your eyes. "So much."
Before you can say more, his mouth crashes against yours. It's not a kiss of gentleness, but of raw, overwhelming need. It's sloppy and desperate, filled with spit and drool as your tongues clash.
He kisses you like he's trying to breathe you in. It's uncoordinated and filthy, a perfect counterpoint to the tender words just spoken, a testament to the storm of emotions raging between you.
He stays there for a moment, breathing heavily against your mouth, the only sounds in the room your ragged breaths.
Then, as quickly as the intensity began, it softens. He pulls out gently, and you feel his warmth leave you. He uses a handful of tissues to carefully clean you up, his touch impossibly tender now.
"Can't have my perfect girl leaking all over her pretty dress," he teases softly.
He helps you stand, your legs trembling, and pulls your dress back down into place. He turns you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he wipes away the tear tracks and smudged mascara with his thumbs.
"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips. "You did so good for me. So perfect."
He helps you fix your hair then. The same fingers that had tangled mercilessly through it only minutes ago now move with impossible care, smoothing down loose strands before tucking them neatly behind your ear.
He straightens the stubborn strap back to your shoudler, brushes an invisible crease from your waist, then steps back to inspect his work with quiet satisfaction.
Only after deeming you presentable again does he adjust his own tie and smooth his jacket, slipping effortlessly back into the composed man who walked into the restaurant.
"There."
Your hand flies instinctively to your shoulder.
"Oh, absolutely not."
Yunho catches your wrist before your fingers reach the mark. His mouth twitches.
"You did that."
"I think it suits you."
You glare at him. He doesn't look remotely sorry. A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest as he leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead.
"My beautiful girl."
The words settle warmly beneath your ribs.
"So now you'll fuck me in public," you murmur, "but I'm not allowed to hide the evidence?"
His smile is small. Unapologetic.
"No."
The answer is so simple, so certain, that your heart forgets how to beat for a second.
When you step back into the restaurant, Yunho reaches for your hand without hesitation. His fingers weave through yours naturally, like they've done it a thousand times before. Firm enough that you couldn't pull away if you wanted to. Gentle enough that it feels less like possession and more like certainty.
You barely make it a few steps before your free hand flies to your shoulder.
"This is awful."
A quiet laugh escapes him.
"You seemed very enthusiastic about it five minutes ago."
"Yunho."
His smile only deepens. You try to pull your hair over the marks blooming across your skin. Yunho simply brushes it back over your shoulder again, his fingertips lingering for the briefest second.
"Stop."
"No."
"They're going to see."
His eyes flick toward you, warm with something that makes your chest tighten.
"I know."
You stare at him. He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. The meaning settles somewhere beneath your ribs before you can stop it.
Then you see her. Still sitting at her table. Still talking to the people around her. Your entire body locks.
"No."
Yunho doesn't even slow down.
"No."
"Dove."
"I am not walking past her."
"You are."
"I'll die."
"You won't."
You make one last pathetic attempt to hide behind him, but he only chuckles softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it between you. His lips brush across your knuckles. Your breath catches.
Before you can recover, he leans down and presses another absentminded kiss against your temple as you walk, the gesture so effortless it almost feels unconscious. Like this is simply what he does when you're together. Like loving you has become muscle memory.
The woman looks up. Recognition flashes across her face. Her eyes fall to your joined hands. To the kiss. To the way Yunho never once lets go of you.
Heat rushes to your cheeks so quickly you're convinced the entire restaurant can feel it. But Yunho keeps walking as though nothing remarkable has happened, guiding you back to the table with the same calm confidence he'd walked in with an hour earlier.
This time, however, he pulls your chair out first.
His hand lingers briefly against the back of your seat before he walks around to his own, settling opposite you with infuriating composure.
You reach for your wine immediately. Desperately, because you need it. Bad.
"You never finished your risotto."
You blink over the rim of your glass.
"That's your concern right now?"
"It’s expensive."
You stare at him, waiting for the joke. It never comes. His mouth twitches just enough to betray him as he reaches for his own wine.
Around you, the restaurant carries on exactly as it had before. Cutlery clinks against porcelain. Conversations overlap. Someone laughs near the window. You're convinced every single one of them knows.
Yunho, meanwhile, opens the dessert menu as though the last twenty minutes never happened. He flips a page, the corners already beginning to curl beneath his fingers.
"So," he says, glancing up briefly. "Do we want the tiramisu?"
You swirl the last of your wine around your glass.
"Do we?"
His mouth twitches.
"Good point." He turns another page. "Chocolate soufflé?"
You don't answer. You simply keep looking at him. Long enough that he eventually lowers the menu, meeting your eyes over the edge of it.
"What?"
You tilt your head, pretending to consider the question.
"I kind of hate you."
A quiet smile pulls at one corner of his mouth. Small. Certain.
"No," he says. "You really don't."
You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you before your face can.
For the first time all evening, silence settles comfortably between you. No misunderstandings hiding beneath it. No sharp edges waiting to catch. Just the familiar quiet that has always belonged to the two of you.
You shift in your chair, wincing almost imperceptibly as the heels remind you how long you've been wearing them.
Yunho notices immediately. His eyes drop beneath the table for half a second before returning to your face.
"They're hurting."
It isn't a question. You sigh dramatically.
"A little."
Without another word, he extends one hand beneath the tablecloth, palm open.
"Give me your foot."
You eye him suspiciously.
"...Didn't we already establish that was a terrible idea?"
A slow smile appears at the corner of his mouth.
"Which is why I'm asking for your foot." His eyes meet yours. "Not your ideas."
Heat creeps up your neck.
"Yunho."
"I'm choosing to believe you've learned from the experience."
You wisely keep your mouth shut. Judging by the look in his eyes, the only thing Yunho enjoys more than winning is watching you realize you've lost.
His hand pats his thigh twice, waiting patiently. "Foot."
You know that tone. The one that isn't asking because it already knows you'll give in.
With an exaggerated sigh, you shift in your seat. One leg first, then the other. A moment later, both feet are on his lap. The movement is practiced. Unremarkable between you now, which is its own kind of problem.
"This time I'd like you to keep it above my knee."
You nearly choke on your wine.
"Yunho."
"Too soon?"
You can hear the smile in his voice long before you see it.
His hand settles around your ankle, thumb pressing slow circles into the sore skin. Then, almost absent-mindedly, his fingers find the tiny buckle fastening your heel.
You frown.
"...What are you doing?"
"Fixing the problem."
Before you can protest, he unfastens the delicate strap with practiced fingers, easing the shoe from your foot as carefully as though it were made of glass. He sets it beside his leg beneath the table, then repeats the motion with the other one.
The relief is immediate. A quiet breath escapes you before you can stop it. Yunho pretends not to notice.
He simply settles both of your bare feet across his lap again, one broad hand wrapping gently around your arches while his thumb works patiently at the muscles that have been aching since you left the apartment.
It's so automatic. So unceremonious. Like this isn't an act of devotion at all, just another item on the list of ways he takes care of you.
You watch him for a long moment. He doesn’t look up. That, more than anything, makes you smile.
“You’re being weird.”
"Hm?"
"You're... affectionate."
That earns you his attention. He looks up from the menu, genuinely considering the accusation.
“I’m always affectionate.”
You give him a look.
"You are." You hesitate, searching for words that don't sound quite so vulnerable. "Just... not where people can see."
Something shifts in his expression. Because he's realizing you aren’t accusing him. You’re simply telling him how lonely you felt.
His hand stays on your ankle.
“Maybe I should’ve been.”
The words are quiet enough that no one else could hear them. They don't sound like an apology. They sound better than one.
Across the room, your eyes catch the woman for just a second. Her eyes dip beneath the table for just a moment, lingering where Yunho's hand rests around your ankle as though it's the most natural place in the world for it to be.
For a heartbeat, you wait for the embarrassment to come. It doesn't. You look back at him instead.
"So. Chocolate soufflé then?" Yunho asks.
"Get both," you murmur, nodding toward the menu.
His grin is immediate. "I was hoping you'd say that."
You laugh, shaking your head as his thumb absentmindedly traces another circle over your skin.
Dessert arrives a few minutes later. Your feet never leave his lap. Neither does his hand.
Conversation returns as though it had never been interrupted. Work. Travel. Which wine is better. Ordinary things. Comfortably ordinary.
And somewhere between the first spoonful of tiramisu and the last sip of wine, you realize the knot in your chest is gone. Not because the evening had been perfect. Because when it stopped being perfect, the two of you chose each other anyway.
♡ — 𝐕𝐢𝐩 𝐞𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬 ; @kissmatz @eggielix @miisanthropology @liaaaafixofff @chanscappuccino @eunseoksgirl @threepointstogryffindor @fixon-min @groovyravenagain send a ask to be added or removed!
A/N — I know I said I was taking a break to write a yunho oneshot…but I got frustrated and deleted it. So we’re now here :)
Piss play — That man is a possessive man, through and through. So of course he’d use you as a urinal just to prove that you’re his.
Size — He definitely has a thing about his height and hands, so he would purposely do things that caused him to either lift you up or tower over you.
Collaring — Again, with the jealousy and possessiveness. He would buy you a necklace with either his full name or his initials on it and would make you wear only that while he’s balls deep inside you.
Jealousy — Nothing is hotter to that man than fucking you until you’re a sobbing mess, all because you glanced at another man.
Objectification — When yunho is in a certain type of mood, he would much rather use you as a sex toy and then treat you like a princess afterwards.
Virginity — Yunho 100% wants to be the only man you’ve ever been with, he wants to be the one who teaches you what sex is and how good it feels. Yunho also definitely wants to be the only man who can make you cum.
Sir/daddy — Yunho is a dominant, through and through. So being told ‘yes sir’ or something along those lines throughout the day definitely strokes his ego the perfect way.
Crying — Yunho is also in the branch of being a sadist, so breaking you down to tears, knowing he has that type of control over you can and does get him off.
Your daily reminder that you need to eat today and whatever you eat doesn’t make you good or bad. It has no moral implications. Your beautiful body needs it to keep you alive 🩷
Warnings: MDNI!, suggestive, both are lowkey freaks, petnames (babe, my love, beautiful, etc), just straight up crack (let me know if i missed something)
/ back to navigation / Other members ver: Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Yeosang, San, Mingi, Wooyoung, Jongho/
Are we serious? A music show with sound issues and no backup mics? Are they so used to idols not singing live that they don't think this might be an issue for someone? 🤦🏾♀️🤬
Pairing: Bf!Mingi x Reader x Yunho x Wooyoung
Summary: Sometimes while dating Mingi it felt as though you had a second boyfriend that neither of you fully acknowledged, his best friend, Yunho. The tension between the three of you builds until even Wooyoung senses it. Wooyoung wants to help push the three of you together and maybe get some fun out of the deal.
Genres + Warnings 18+ Minors DNI! dom!Yunho, switch!Mingi, switch! Wooyoung, sub!reader, oral (f & m receiving), unprotected p-in-v, double penatration, breast play, multiple orgasms, creampie, degradation, (lmk if I missed any, I probably am)
A/N: My longest writing to date and first one with multiple partners. I've been really nervous to post this so please be nice lol. I loved writing for these three though and could see this dynamic playing out in so many different ways. Let me know what y'all think. This is a work of fiction and in no way a real representation of the band or members.
Word Count: 7,720
Dating Mingi, in ways, was a dream come true. Having met in a dingy bar after being ditched by your friend, the two of you hit it off very well. He understood you in ways that didn’t seem possible at times. In return, you had a way of reading him that no one else seemed to be able to.
That was, except for his best friend Yunho.
The two had known each other for years before you came along. At first, their relationship seemed daunting. It felt impossible that you would ever get to the level of understanding of Mingi that Yunho had. Yunho seemed to have an uncanny ability to sense Mingi’s emotions–a sense that took a while for you to learn. However, it would’ve taken longer without the taller man’s actions.
With how often Yunho was around, you got to know the slightly older man as well. You formed a bumpy friendship–jealousy preventing you from getting too close at first. Over time, you got over it and accepted him as a part of your life with Mingi, falling into a routine with the two of them.
The three of you would often hang out in the apartment you shared with Mingi, whether it was to play video games, watch movies, or just sit around. It started out with small actions that made you feel seen by Yunho. Your favorite snacks brought without you having to ask, explanations of inside jokes when he saw confusion on your face, and small unexpected gifts like he would get Mingi when he had bad days.
Mingi didn’t think anything of it, knowing Yunho would do the same for him. In fact, he became thrilled at the idea of the two of you getting closer. He even encouraged you to turn to Yunho if he was ever too busy to answer. He didn’t see how he could be upset at the idea of his two favorite people becoming friends. Even when Yunho started to tease you like he would, Mingi didn’t think anything of it.
As harmless as it was at first, you didn’t miss the small smirks Yunho would send your way. The glances when he believed Mingi wasn’t looking, or even the small brushes when walking past you. A tension growing between the two of you, that you weren’t sure what to do with.
Coming home from work one day, you couldn't help but tense up hearing both of their voices as you entered your shared apartment. You kicked your shoes off and dropped your bag down on the kitchen table, exhausted after the long day.
“Hey, baby. How was work?” Mingi called from the living room. He was enthralled in some game you didn’t care to learn about with Yunho, the two clearly battling.
“Fine, just long.” You answered as you grabbed a drink from the fridge. Entering the living room, you waited beside the arm of the couch, not wanting to interrupt their match. Mingi sat closest to you, Yunho was in the arm chair on the other side of the couch.
“How’d the project go?” Yunho asked, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.
“Good, finally got the one executive to drop his impossible idea.”
“Told you, he’d come around. My baby’s too pretty to argue with.” Mingi spoke with a proud smirk causing you to chuckle.
“Yes, I’m sure he changed his mind cause he thought I was pretty.” You couldn't help but roll your eyes at the thought.
“Do we have competition with your coworkers now? We’re-Mingi’s gonna have to show them you’re off limits.” Yunho spoke, trying to correct himself quickly.
Your eyes widened at his insinuation, the innuendo not lost on you. You felt yourself tense up as you glanced at Mingi, who was now biting his lip–at Yunho’s words or just in concentration you didn’t know. His eyes hadn't left the screen in front of him as far as you had seen.
Yunho glanced at you again, a red tinge to his ears. His eyes strayed from the screen just a second too long, giving Mingi the advantage he needed to end the match. Mingi let out a cheer at finally winning, before placing his control down and extending his hand out to you. You set your drink down, placing your hand in his.
“Come here, baby.” He spoke softly, eyes meeting yours as you did as he asked. You moved to sit by Mingi, your legs across his lap as he gently massaged your calves. You didn’t glance at the other man as you closed your eyes and relaxed into your boyfriend’s massage.
Yunho cleared his throat before you heard him stand. “She’s clearly had a long day, I’ll leave you two be.” You opened your eyes to see him gathering his stuff, avoiding eye contact with either of you.
“You don’t have to, we can play another round, right, baby?” Mingi asked, looking at you for a moment before turning back to Yunho.
“I’m sure, take care of your girl.” He answered before you could even open your mouth, eyes drifting to you at the end. There was something in his look, it was familiar to you, but not from him.
Desire. A muted fire as he clearly fought to push it down.
You stayed still until he finally made his way to the door and made a swift exit.
Mingi glanced between the two of you, biting his lip. He couldn’t deny the attraction building between the all three of you, but just like you, he didn’t know how to act on it. He didn’t know what to say or how to address what was happening. He wasn’t sure it was something you wanted, let alone Yunho.
You entered a standstill where Yunho continued to push further and further. Tension building with each visit he had to your apartment. You weren’t sure how to approach the subject, not wanting to upset Mingi with the interest you now held for his best friend, or vice versa.
Enter Wooyoung.
Wooyoung wasn’t around as often as Yunho, but had become a more frequent guest recently. Often joining the two in the gaming sessions, or some other random hang out. However, the few encounters that the three of you had with him were enough for him to grasp an understanding of your dilemma.
He had a perceptiveness as he watched the three of you interact. Something akin to a hawk watching his prey. He caught on to your attraction to both men.
The adorable embarrassment that broke out as Yunho mercilessly enjoyed teasing you. The seemingly lack of care that Yunho had for Mingi or anyone else being in the room when he did it. He also caught on to Mingi’s excitement at watching the two people closest to him not only get along but thrive in each other's presence.
Wooyoung could tell you wanted to say something, to quit walking the tightrope between the two. However, what he didn’t know is where the line was drawn only having an outside perspective of the situation.
“So, have you three fucked or something?” Wooyoung asked one evening after following you into the kitchen.
You almost choked on your drink at the blatant question. “What?! No!”
“Oh, don’t be like that. You three are thirsting after each other like a fucking camel in the desert.”
“I don’t–”
“Spare me the denials. Everytime Yunho flirts with you, I swear Mingi gets a fucking hard on and you make heart eyes at both of them more than San does to Yeosang.” He spoke with his arms crossed, leaning on the counter next to you. A knowing smirk was on his face as a heat rose to your cheeks.
You felt pinned to the spot, the hair on the back of your neck standing on edge. Your eyes glanced at the exit from the room, wondering if he would block you from taking it.
“Woo, just drop it please.” You pleaded after a moment dropping your head so as to not see his face.
“Oh, I can see why they tease you…” He spoke and you snapped your head back up to meet his eyes. “You’re so pretty when you beg.”
“Not you too.” Your head fell, avoiding eye contact once again.
“Not sorry, you’re just too cute.”
Rolling your eyes, you attempted to head back to the living room. As you passed Wooyoung, his hand caught your wrist.
“I can help, you know? I see what you want, I can be that final push.” He told you, smirk on his face as he glanced between your eyes and lips.
“Why would you do that? What's in it for you?”
“A night of fun if I play my cards right, and the bonus of getting rid of the weird tension between you three.” He answered honestly, dropping your wrist with a shrug.
The gears in your head started to turn at his idea. Your boyfriend wasn't the easily jealous type, not with his friends anyway. Yunho though? Different story. Could Wooyoung really be the catalyst to get one of them to act–to admit to what they truly want?
“How do you want to do this?” You finally asked after a moment.
“You're down?”
When you nodded he couldn't stop the laugh that spilled from his lips.
“Orai! We'll do it naturally. Just storm out of here like you were going to after I teased you. Trust me to take care of the rest.”
Giving him a nod and taking a deep breath, you moved to leave the kitchen with a huff.
You planted down on the couch next to Mingi, burying your head in his chest with a groan. Your cheeks red, with embarrassment, and you held a disbelief in your actions. Were you really trusting the younger man to push you all together, just like that?
You felt Mingi chuckle before you heard it. “Everything okay, baby?” He asked as his hand dragged through your hair. You moved to glance up at his face.
“Yeah, just Youngie being a menace.”
“Ah so nothing new.” Yunho joked as he continued the video game he was playing from the armchair next to you.
“It’s not my fault she looks hot when she blushes. I mean look at ‘er” Wooyoung spoke, now leaning on the wall separating the kitchen and living room. His arms were crossed as he bit his lip, eyes not leaving your form. You felt Mingi tense under you as Yunho let out a chuckle of disbelief, pausing his game and placing the controller down. Wooyoung’s eyes flitted between the three of you, watching the reactions with a playful smirk.
No one spoke for a moment, an awkward silence filling the void.
“Well, that’s interesting. So Yunho can flirt all he wants but the minute I do, you get all tense?” Wooyoung asks with a scoff, a hand coming to rest on his hip.
“I don’t–”
“He doesn’t–”
“Bullshit.” Wooyoung stopped the older men’s arguments before they could even start. You sat up to give Mingi space as he started to fidget under you.
“Don’t try to deny it when I could cut the tension in here with one of your shitty knives.”
Mingi scoffed and readjusted himself. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“So you’re not hard right now?”
Wooyoung had him, caught red handed. Mingi stayed silent, ears turning red as everyone turned to face him.
“Wait, you’re really–”
“Shut up!” Mingi barked before Yunho could finish his question.
“Dude, it’s okay. Had you– I would've– We could’ve–” Yunho struggled with his words until Mingi cut him off.
“Could’ve what?” He gave a slight chuckle in disbelief.
“Could’ve fucked.” Yunho answered bluntly, eyes locking with Mingi's.
“Dude, I don’t just want a one night stand.”
“Then what do you want?”
“I– Fuck I don’t know, which is why I never said anything. How can I explain what I want when I don’t know? Let alone what you two want.”
“We can work that out, man. Just let me–”
“Just fuck already.” You had almost forgotten Wooyoung was there until he approached. However, you remember his words–his reason for still being here.
“Why so you can watch?” Yunho fired back with a smirk.
“You gonna let me?”
“That's not for–” Yunho trailed off as he glanced at Mingi. Mingi who was back to biting his lip. A desire burning in his chocolate orbs as he met Yunho's gaze once more.
“Well, that just leaves you, baby girl. What do you think?” Yunho asked, eyes not leaving Mingi's, as if locked in a silent conversation only those two understood.
“I'm open to it, so long as both of you are.” You answered, glancing between the two.
“Yeah? You want all of us? Want us to share you?” Mingi asked softly, eyes searching your face.
Biting your lip, you nodded, eyes not leaving his.
“Words baby girl, or this goes no further.” Yunho spoke up, causing your eyes to snap to his.
“I want this. All of it, whatever it is.”
Mingi darted forward lips capturing yours in a searing kiss. Closing your eyes, you leaned into him. His hand coming up to cup the side of your head as his tongue teased your lips. You let him in, tongue barely fighting back as Mingi dominated the kiss. Desire burned through your veins and you moaned into his mouth.
“Fuck, that’s hot.” Wooyoung spoke and Mingi pulled back with a chuckle.
“Just wait, you ain’t seen nothing yet.” His eyes glanced between the other two men in the room.
“Should we take this somewhere more comfortable?” Yunho asked and earned nods from across the room.
“Bedroom, baby. Be ready for us. We’ll be there shortly.”
You stood and felt Mingi tap your ass on the way past as he watched you make your way to the hallway. Entering your shared bedroom, you quickly stripped down to just your underwear before sitting in the middle of the bed.
Your thoughts drifted as you fiddled with the bed sheets beneath you. It only took a moment for doubt to claw its way into your thoughts. Doubt that maybe they didn’t want this, didn’t want you, that maybe they figured out Wooyoung's plan and found it off putting.
However, those thoughts were quickly pushed back as the doorway filled with the familiar bodies.
“Look at that, she listens so well.” Yunho commented as he brushed past Mingi to enter the room. He went to the far side of the bed while Mingi moved to kneel on the edge closest to him.
“Told you she’ll be good for us.” Mingi spoke, eyes meeting yours as his hand came to rest on your ankle. “Want a run down for what’s about to happen?”
“Yes, please.”
“Thought you would,” He chuckled as he rubbed soothing circles into your ankle. “Yunho’s gonna lead tonight, what he says goes, he knows your safe word but may also use the stop light system. You remember both?”
“Yes, twilight or red for stop, yellow for slow down, and green for keep going.” You answered, earning a hum of delight from Yunho who was working his way behind you on the bed. Wooyoung made his way into your line of sight at the end of the bed.
“Good girl.” Mingi praised with a smile. “Ready?”
“Yes.” You answered softly. A hand came up from behind to softly cup your jaw. Yunho's chest pressed into your back as his legs came to rest on the outside of your own.
“Yes, who?” Yunho asked, causing you to tear your eyes from Mingi’s.
“Yes, sir.” You quickly corrected seeing the dart glint in the older man’s eyes. He chuckled with a nod as he let go of your jaw.
His hands trailed down your sides, moving to your thighs to pull them over his legs and expose you to the two in front of you. The dark spot already spreading on your thin panties doing little to hide the desire filling you. Mingi’s hand started to drift up, but didn’t get anywhere near where you wanted him, causing a whine to fall from your lips.
“Don’t whine, baby.”
“Fuck, she’s soaked.” Wooyoung spoke as he moved lower to get a better view.
“Oh, yeah? Dirty girl, we haven’t even touched you yet.” Yunho spoke as his hand drifted to the top of your panties.
Hooking his fingers into the thin material, he carefully pulled them off your legs, groans leaving the men in front of you as they stuck to your core for a moment. Leaning into Yunho, you felt how affected he was, his hard cock pressing into your back.
“Look so pretty, I wanna taste.” Wooyoung spoke up, moving on to the bed. His hand rested on your other ankle.
“Yeah, wanna prep our girl for us?” Mingi asked with a smirk.
“Get your little slut ready?” Yunho added, as his hands slid up and down your sides. His eyes locking with Mingi’s for a second.
Wooyoung glanced between the two taller men, eyes holding a silent plea for permission from either one. Yunho's legs stretched yours open just a little more, giving him a slight nod.
Wooyoung moved quickly, as if afraid Yunho would steal you away. He crawled up to lay himself between your legs. His eyes met yours, a smirk on his face as he dove in. Flattening his tongue he lapped at your clit before wrapping his lips around it and sucking. He then slowed down, his tongue exploring more, as he tried to find the spots that would make you a mess. His tongue moves down, pushing its way in, lapping up your essence as his nose bumps your clit.
A moan tumbled from your mouth, head falling back on Yunho's shoulder.
“Oh, she liked that… Hmm, imagine riding his face, bet you she'd look hot.” Yunho spoke with a smirk, glancing at Mingi.
“Maybe some other time.” He answered and you turned your head toward him.
Some other time?
With all three of them?
Wooyoung's words rang around your mind, just a night of fun. This wasn't the same for him as the other two in the room. Either they didn’t know that, or didn’t care.
Before you could think too much about the implication of his words, Wooyoung used his hands to spread your lips and teased a finger at your entrance. Slowly pushing his finger in, you moaned as he curled it a few times. Pulling it out, a second finger joined shortly, beginning to thrust, creating a pace to push you closer to the edge.
“God, she's so tight.” Wooyoung mumbled, glancing at Mingi. His thumb replacing his mouth for a moment.
“Yeah? Just wait till she’s wrapped around you.”
Wooyoung bit his lip, a deep groan muffled by it as he began a scissoring motion.
Yunho's lips found your neck, sucking the sensitive skin as his hands moved to unclasp your bra. He then slowly dragged the straps down your arm, hands brushing down your arms. Throwing the material on the floor, his hands dragged themselves back up, leaving goosebumps in their way. His hands soon found your breasts, kneading the sensitive mounds.
Moans continued to pour from your mouth as Wooyoung’s fingers brushed the spot he had been searching for.
“There it is.”
“‘Bout time.” Mingi chided, rolling his eyes as he moved closer to your head. His lips meet yours in a sloppy kiss. His tongue enters your mouth and easily takes control of the kiss. He soon pulled away, moving to your sensitive neck opposite of Yunho, before kissing down to your chest. Your hand moved to his belt, attempted to free the bulge growing as he sucked a nipple into his mouth.
Wooyoung hummed into your pussy, winding the coil in your core tighter as your other hand found his hair. Tugging him closer, he groaned again as he felt you clench. Your other hand grips around the outline of Mingi's cock, sending his groan through your chest.
Your eyes clenched shut as you crashed over the edge. Wooyoung's fingers gave a couple more thrusts before slipping out of your slowly. His mouth not leaving you as he slurps up the rest of your cum.
You lost track of whose hands were where as they moved you to straddle Yunho. Legs on either side of his, you couldn't stop yourself from grinding into his growing desire. Your eyes crack open to watch his reaction.
Yunho’s eyes slip shut as he groans. His hands hold your hips still as the other two move behind you. You could hear clothes being removed, but kept your eyes on the man under you.
“So greedy, you just came and you already want more?” He teased, slowly opening his eyes once more. His pupils wide as they stare into you. “Give me a color, baby girl.”
“Green, so fucking green, sir.” You spoke, desperation clear in your voice.
Your hands moved to his shirt, pulling at the obstructing material. He chuckled and moved to pull it off, throwing it to the floor. His lips then captured yours in a fierce kiss. He moved to lay on his back, pulling you with him. Your hands found his belt and began to unbuckle it. Making quick work of it and the button of his pants.
Yunho pulls away from the kiss to help you remove the obstructing materials. His erection curvses toward his abs, precum already leaking from the tip. You couldn’t stop the gasp that left your mouth. Wrapping your hand around his length, your finger tips didn’t quite touch. While his length was right there with Mingi’s you were definitely concerned about him fitting.
“Is it bigger than you expected?” Yunho asked softly, wrapping his large hand around your own. He guided your hand to lightly pump him a few times as his other hand moving to your waist. You found yourself nodding as you moved closer to him.
“It’s okay, he’ll go slow.” Mingi spoke now behind you. “He’ll fit, you can handle it, baby.” Mingi’s lips found your shoulder as he urged you closer to his best friend.
“I’ll be slow, sweet girl. Still green?” Yunho asks as Mingi raises you up. You give him a nod as you untangle your hand from his letting him guide himself to your entrance. You leaned into Mingi, letting him hold you up as you slowly sunk onto Yunho’s length. The stretch causes your eyes to shut in pain, your hands finding Mingi’s and grasping tightly.
“Almost there, doll. Just a little more.” Wooyoung spoke from beside you, his hand moving to touch your clit. His lips kiss your cheek, pulling your attention away from the stretch for a moment.
You moaned softly as your hips finally became flush with Yunho’s. You gave yourself a moment before moving your hands to his chest to lean forward.
“Ready, baby girl?” Yunho asked and you nodded. “Use your words for me.”
“Yes, sir, please fuck me.” You begged, eyes meeting his dark orbs. He smirks as his hands replace Mingi’s on your hips.
Raising yourself up, you moan as you sink back down. Yunho helps you create a rhythm as you move your hands beside his head. Your breasts bouncing with each rough thrust.
Mingi's hands move to your neck and slowly trail their way down your back. Upon reaching your ass, he gave it a light smack, jolting you forward and dragging a loud yelp from your throat.
“Woo, hand me the lube. Top drawer.” Mingi spoke softly, and Wooyoung pulls away from you to open the nightstand and give Mingi what he requested.
Hearing the lid pop open, you glanced over your shoulder to see your boyfriend smirking.
“Gonna try something new, baby.” He tells you, gently pushing you forward. Your chest presses into Yunho’s. Yunho’s hands move to grip your ass, using it as leverage to move you, but also spread you open. You felt Mingi drip a good amount of lube down your back and to your other hole. The cool feeling causes you to clench down.
“Oh fuck, so tight… I think you're forgetting someone though, baby girl.” Yunho spoke, bringing your attention back to him. His head tilted to bring your attention to Wooyoung.
He sat next to Yunho, biting his lip while slowly rubbing his hard on. His eyes followed your movements, hand moving in tandem with every lift of your hips.
“Why don't you help him out while Mingi gets you ready?” Yunho suggested with a smirk. You nodded, your hand moving to replace Wooyoung's.
You feel Mingi's middle finger start to make its way to your other hole, gently entering and earning a groan from Yunho as you tense once more. Your eyes meet Wooyoung's as you move your mouth to the head of his erection.
Your tongue swirls around the tip before you lower your head to take him in your mouth. Hollowing your cheeks, Wooyoung groans as your nose brushes the hair around his base, his cock hitting your throat. His hand tangles in your hair creating a makeshift ponytail, as one of yours grips his tense thigh. You let him guide your head as you lose yourself in the sensations.
“Look at her, already cock drunk.” Wooyoung spoke with a groan.
“Mmm, so perfect like this, taking me so well. Such a perfect little slut.” Yunho whispered in your ear, dragging a moan from your throat.
“Oh, fuck.” Wooyoung groans, throwing his head back once more.
A second finger thrusts into your ass causing you to pull back and suck in a deep breath. The pain of the stretch mixed with the pleasure of Yunho hitting the spot that had you seeing stars. Your eyes roll back for a moment, as Yunho's thrusts become harder.
“I'm close, baby girl. Where do you want me?”
“Inside, please, inside.” You beg as Wooyoung's hand tightens around your hair. He taps your lips with his tip, prompting you to open your mouth again.
“Yeah, dirty girl? Want me to fill you up? Have you stuffed full by the end of the night? Give it to me then, cum for me.” Yunho growls into your ear. You moan around Wooyoung's length as his pace increases. Yunho then began thrusting up harder into you. With Mingi still working you open, your eyes slide shut, thighs shaking as you crash over the edge.
Yunho wasn’t far behind. After a couple of thrusts, you felt him pulse as his release coated your walls. Wooyoung’s moans grew louder as he tumbles over as well, his cum pouring down your throat. He then slowly pulls out, telling you to swallow what was in your mouth. You do so, sticking your tongue out as proof.
You then collapse onto Yunho’s chest. Mingi sucks in a breath as he pulls his fingers out and Yunho spreads you open for him. Glancing back at your boyfriend once more, you see a smirk spread across his face. A whine leaves your lips as Yunho gently pulls out with a light pop. You feel his cum start to pour out until Mingi quickly scoops it up with a finger and pushes it back in.
“Is she good and prepped?” Yunho asked after a moment, looking over at his best friend.
“Yeah, she’s ready.” Mingi spoke. His hands move to wrap around you, pulling you up and into his chest. He angles your head to capture your lips, noisily kissing you. You smile into the kiss, letting him take control and enjoying the feel of his plush lips against yours. There was a dopey feel to your movements, as though you were up on cloud nine.
“Wooyoung, you want next?”
“Do you really need to ask?” Wooyoung scoffed as Yunho slipped out from under you, allowing the younger man to take his place. His cock was already hard again, hitting his abs as he positioned himself at your entrance.
“Calm yourself or you won't be cumming again.” Yunho ordered. A dark glint now in his eyes as he stared Wooyoung down. Wooyoung's pupils dilated as he left out an involuntary whimper. He bit his lip as he stared up at Yunho. The noise causes you and Mingi to break apart.
“Oh, you like that? Like when I put you in your place, you little brat?” Yunho taunted, hand moving to grip Wooyoung’s chin. A smirk spread across his face as Wooyoung could only nod.
“Fuck.” Mingi cursed as he gripped himself.
“You like that, too?” Yunho asks as he glances at his best friend. He let out a small laugh almost in disbelief. “All three of you are gonna be my subs? I'm spoiled.” Biting his lips he moved away from Wooyoung and closer to Mingi.
The two shared an intense moment as Yunho tilted Mingi’s face toward his. Your boyfriend’s hands loosen around your body, carefully letting you lower yourself into Wooyoung’s embrace. You turned around in Woo’s arms to watch the two taller men.
Mingi’s hand came up to grip the back of Yunho’s neck, their foreheads meeting. Their lips then crashed together like a tidal wave, a groan leaving Mingi as Yunho bit his lip. You couldn’t stop the whimper that left your own mouth at the sight of the two.
“How hot is that? And you get to have both of them to yourself. How lucky are you, doll?” Wooyoung whispers in your ear, as his hands begin to trail down your body. His hand soon comes into contact with your clit causing you to moan and throw your head back against his shoulder.
“Did I say you could touch?”
Wooyoung moved his hand away instantly as if burned, placing them just above your hips. Snapping your head up, your eyes met Yunho’s. His eyes then dragged down your body leaving a burning desire in its wake. Mingi’s eyes stayed locked on Yunho, all three ears waiting on his commands. The three of you were like puppets, Yunho your puppeteer, controlling the show. His attention turned back to Mingi.
“Since you’ve been so good for me, I’ll let you choose. How do you want your girl?”
“Let me have that tight pussy, please Yunho.” Mingi begged, causing your eyes to widen.
You had never heard him beg before, at least not in the bedroom. He was always your dominant, making you beg and follow his instructions. You found yourself clenching around nothing and biting your lip in anticipation.
“Take it. Take our dirty girl.” Yunho ordered, releasing Mingi. Despite everything around you, you noted that this was the first time Yunho had called you theirs and not just Mingi's. An omission that you would’ve thought about longer if not for Mingi moving in between your legs.
Mingi’s left hand went to your hip while his right fisted his cock. He rubbed his tip through your folds a couple of times, coating himself in your juices before pushing in with a groan. You moaned, eyes meeting his as your hands moved to his arms at the overwhelming sensation.
You became lost in the sensation—in him. There was no care in you as to whose hands were where, or that more than one person was touching you. Hands began massaging your chest, while someone else rubbed at your clit. Your thoughts only on the man in front of you as he set a fast tempo pace. Mingi bit his lip, focusing on the spot he knew would have you coming undone quickly. Only to be stopped by a hand on his chest.
“Gonna finish her so soon? You didn’t forget about Woo again did you?” Yunho asks as he wraps himself around Mingi, eyes finding yours over his shoulder.
Unable to find your words, you shake your head.
“Didn’t think so, our good girl. Woo, you gonna take her ass?” Yunho spoke, tone slightly condescending as his thumb continued to circle your clit slowly.
“Fuck yeah I will.” The youngest man answered, thrusting his hips to rub his erection against your back, where it was still pressed.
“Then do it already, she’s close.” As Mingi ordered the younger around, you found yourself clenching down once more. “Shit, baby girl. You’re choking my dick, not gonna last if you keep that up.”
Wooyoung grabbed the lube from where Mingi left it on the bed. You heard him pop open the lid, moving you forward to coat his member in a decent amount. He then aligned himself with your puckered hole. His hands guiding and helping you sink down on his member.
“Fuck! So tight, gotta relax for me, doll.”
“Breathe, baby. Let him in. Fuck can feel him filling you.”
“Gonna take them so well, our good girl.”
They whispered sweet words in an attempt to distract you from the burning stretch. Mingi had never taken your ass before, preferring the feel of your pussy’s tight velvety walls. He only now second guessed that decision, seeing the bliss on Wooyoung’s face before he was even fully flush with your body. Upon finishing sliding in, the two gave you a moment to adjust as you lean yourself fully into Wooyoung.
“Shit, can’t hold back anymore.” Wooyoung spoke after a moment, beginning to thrust up into you, his nails carving mini crescents into your hips. His thrust pushed Mingi in deeper, causing him to groan as he leaned over you a little more.
“Look at her taking both of you. Sucking you both in, like she doesn't want to let you go.” Yunho teased.
The two soon found a rhythm, moving so one was always filling you. Moans continued to tumble from your mouth as your eyes shut in pure bliss. You felt yourself sink into the feeling coursing through you, becoming somewhat unaware of what was happening around you. Body tingling from the pleasure coursing through it.
“Wanna try something.” Yunho mumbled and Mingi suddenly stilled inside of you letting out a loud groan.
Your eyes snapped open to see what was happening, noticing Yunho still behind Mingi.
“Oh, fuck.” Mingi groaned as you heard the snap of Yunho’s hips.
“Fuck, you’re so tight. Relax, Mingi.” It wasn’t hard to figure out what was happening, your eyes rolling back at the thought. The image of Yunho fucking your boyfriend being enough to push you over the edge, body spasming as you come undone.
“Shit, baby. Gonna… cum.” Mingi groaned into your shoulder as Yunho continued to thrust into him, jolting him into you more. Your sensitive walls clamping down around him.
“Yeah, gonna cum for us, Min? Fill our girl up?” Yunho spoke into his ear, causing Mingi to groan more.
“Holy shit, she's so tight. Fuck.” Wooyoung cursed as he tried to force himself to slow down, not wanting to come undone too early.
Curses tumbled out of Mingi's mouth as he all but collapsed on top of you. Your hypersensitive walls feel him pulse with each rough thrust from Yunho. It didn't take long till he was spilling inside you with a loud groan. Wooyoung's curses joined his as he tumbled over the edge as well. Their ropes of cum, covering your walls in white once more.
Yunho stopped his thrusts, groaning as he slowly pulled out of Mingi to savor the feeling. Taking a moment to breathe, Mingi stayed where he was. His hands rubbing your sides, to soothe you or himself you couldn't tell.
After a moment, Mingi pulled himself up and out. He helped to pull you off Wooyoung and you could feel the mess between your legs spilling onto the sheets. You couldn't find it in you to care though as you spotted Yunho sitting on the edge of the bed. A burning desire still in his eyes and he fisted his cock to the sight of you.
“Color?” He questioned, noticing your eyes on him.
“Still green, sir. Just sensitive.”
“Still want more? Even after all that?” He asked and you nodded, biting your lip. Your eyes dart between his clearly still hard cock and his eyes. You would do anything to help him with his problem once more.
“Damn, insatiable.” Wooyoung spoke with a smirk as he laid to the side, seemingly spent.
Mingi's eyes trailed your body, biting his lips as he looked at your swollen pussy. His cock twitched at the thought of going again, knowing your walls would wrap around him so well as sensitive as you were.
His eyes then moved to Yunho, taking in his form. His best friend had never looked more attractive. Pupils blown wide, biting his lips, with a hand wrapped around himself. Mingi was tempted to get a taste, but had a better idea as he looked at you once more.
“Wanna take her pussy together?” He asked, voice rough. He wanted to feel both of you as he came undone. To have you wrapped around both of them like they were around your fingers.
Yunho's eyes reluctantly pulled away from yours to meet Mingi's. A smirk pulled at his lips as he released his lower lip from his teeth. A brow raised at the idea, seeing the hopeful desire on Mingi's face.
“Think she can handle it?”
“Know she can. Right, baby?” Mingi asked, looking at you once more.
“Yes, please. I can take it.” The plea leaving your mouth without much thought. The two shared a look before moving.
Mingi was now behind you, maneuvering you to your knees. Yunho moved in front of you, taking your arms and wrapping them around his neck. You clung to him as Mingi aligned himself with your entrance once more.
Your eyes slid shut as you felt him push in. A moan fell from your lips as your nails dug into Yunho’s back. An overwhelming pleasure consuming you as he rubbed against your sensitive walls once more. Once his hips met yours, Yunho’s hand cupped your jaw. Your eyes blinked open, meeting his dark chocolate orbs.
“Color?”
“Green.” You answered without hesitation.
“You sure baby, you’re gripping me pretty tight.” Mingi questioned, almost teasing as he rested his head on your shoulder. His arms wrap around you completely, holding you to him.
“Yes, please. Ruin me.” You begged.
Yunho hesitated for a second before placing his tip at your entrance. His eyes glanced between yours and Mingi’s, as if trying to drag out this moment.
“Give her what she wants, Yuyu.” Wooyoung spoke, resting on his elbows, eyes just taking in everything in front of him.
Yunho cursed and began to push inside. You couldn’t help but tense up at the new intrusion, your breath hitching. The stretch feeling almost too much, like they were going to tear you in half. Mingi cursed and groaned, the feeling of you clenching around him with Yunho rubbing up against him, having him closer to the edge than he expected. Yunho’s head fell forward, resting on your shoulder.
“Relax, baby girl or I won’t get a chance to ruin you.” Yunho growls, holding on to what little control he still has.
“I’m trying.” You whined, feeling overwhelmed. The color yellow at the tip of your tongue. Discomfort and sensitivity almost too much for you to handle. Mingi’s arms being the steady anchor, grounding you.
“Don’t whine, baby. You wanted this.” Mingi growled into your ear. “You know what to say to make us stop.”
You stayed silent, not wanting to say it—wanting to see how this would go.
“Just take me,” Yunho muttered, not hearing anything from you. He continued to shove his way in. “Take us.”
His hips snapped flush with yours. Your eyes rolled as you collapsed back into Mingi, hands still gripping Yunho’s shoulders. If you weren’t in a daze, you would be sure that you broke his skin. An overwhelming feeling of fullness washed over you. Your sensitive walls pulsing around them.
Yunho and Mingi’s eyes met over your shoulder, the two giving you and themselves a moment to adjust to the feeling. Mingi’s arms loosen around you as his hand grabs the back of Yunho’s head, crashing their lips together again.
Their kiss seemed to break you from the daze you fell into. You met Wooyoung's eyes, a lazy smirk on his face as he watched the three of you together. He moves to kneel next to you, fisting himself as his lips find yours. Your eyes widen, not expecting this from him. He pulls back and turns your attention back to pillars holding you up.
Watching as Yunho bit Mingi's plush lip, forcing them open so he could get a taste. Their lips dancing together in a beautiful mess. Wooyoung’s lips find your tender neck, abusing the skin there for a moment.
Breaking apart, Yunho turned his attention to you. His lips crashed into yours and you felt more than heard the moan Mingi released. Wooyoung’s lips leave your neck as he moves closer to Mingi, giving his neck similar attention to yours. Mingi then gave an experimental thrust. Your moan spilling into Yunho's mouth, granting him access to your mouth. His tongue explored freely, his level of control to be admired as he soon joined Mingi. The two soon creating a rhythm that had you seeing stars.
You felt the daze return, the pleasure making you numb to everything else. Yunho pulled away from your mouth, allowing your whines and moans to spill freely into the air.
“Gripping us so tight, fuck. What a perfect pussy. Not gonna last.”
“Gonna ruin you for anyone else, just like you wanted. You're ours. Only ours.” Mingi growled into your ear.
“Say it, say that you're ours.”
“I'm…your's!” You managed to gasp out, causing them to groan.
Your orgasm came crashing into you like a wave, quicker than any you'd ever experienced before. It felt like a dam had broken open as you squirted around their cocks, drenching the sheets below you.
“Oh shit, she's gone.” Wooyoung spoke from over Mingi’s shoulder.
“Oh fuck, gonna cum.” Mingi groaned.
“Do it, cum with me.” Yunho commanded, their thrusts growing in intensity as he neared his peak.
The two came crashing seconds apart, spilling into you, coating your walls in white once more. Your mind went blank as your body shook from the intensity.
You weren't sure when they pulled out or who left to grab a towel, conscious only returning as Mingi carefully cleaned your legs from your mixed orgasms. A wince leaving your lips at the feeling.
“There you are, had us a little worried for a moment.” He spoke when he noticed your eyes registering him.
“Yunho? Wooyoung?” You questioned, not having the energy to look around.
“Right here, baby girl, already miss me?” Yunho teased as he leaned over Mingi’s shoulder. He planted a kiss on his shoulder before resting his chin in the same spot.
“Still here, doll.” Wooyoung spoke, head popping into your field of view. However, he was in the process of getting dressed, attempting to find his shirt in the different piles on the floor. His sweatpants hung low on his hips, v-line still on display for your viewing pleasure.
“Leaving already?” You croaked out, voice rough.
Wooyoung hummed, pausing his search for a moment as he thought on what to say. “You three have some things to discuss, I’m just gonna give you the space to do so.” He spoke softly, finally finding his top and putting it on.
A frown formed on your face as he then walked over to the bed and leaned over. “This won’t be the last you see of me, don’t worry.” He gave you a wink and then placed a kiss on your forehead, nodding to the other two as he left the room.
After the door shut, the three of you sat in silence for a moment. Your eyes glanced between the two men as Mingi finished with the towel, throwing it toward your laundry bin.
“Do you want a bath? We can start one for you.” Mingi offered, but you shook your head.
“We should probably talk about this.” Yunho spoke softly, eyes glancing between the two of you.
You hum in acknowledgement, moving to sit up slightly so as to be at the same level.
“I think… I know what I want now.” Mingi spoke hesitantly, eyes down, looking at the bed.
“And what’s that?”
“I want both of you... I want you both to be mine, whatever that looks like.” He spoke, eyes glancing tentatively at Yunho.
“And you baby girl? You want the same?” Yunho asked, eyes moving to you.
You nodded, “Yeah, it sometimes already felt like I was with both of you. I just want the confusion and tension gone.” You admitted with a small smile. Mingi’s hand moved to yours, thumb rubbing over your knuckles as if apologizing for putting you through that. His eyes met yours and held a loving softness to them that had your heart melting all over again.
“I want you both too.” Yunho spoke, bringing your attention to him. “I used to think I was jealous of Mingi, thinking I just wanted you, but then there were times where I wanted to be in your place as well. I had thoughts of both of you, but after what Wooyoung did tonight, I realized I wasn’t necessarily jealous of either of you, I just wanted in. I just wanted both of you.” Yunho confessed.
“Fuck, we coud’ve done this so much sooner.” Mingi cursed, causing you to laugh.
“Let’s not think about that too much. Now come cuddle.” You spoke, opening your arms to both of them.
“You heard her.” Yunho joked as he moved. They wrapped themselves on either side of you, Yunho being a big spoon around you as you curled into Mingi’s chest. You knew by the end of the night he would end up the little spoon though, unable to resist having your arms around him.
Closing your eyes, you felt yourself start to drift to sleep.
“I think we’ll need to properly thank Wooyoung, you know?” Yunho mumbled into your hair.
Making black people feel like we don’t belong in the KPop community is insane. KPop has taken everything it possibly could from black culture and black artists. It wouldn’t exist in the form that it does today if it weren’t built on the back of the black community.
You’ll listen to Agust D but if he were a black man you’d hate him. You’ll listen to Cortis but if it were a group of black boys you wouldn’t even turn it on. Aespa can do streetwear and it’s cute but black girls do it and it’s hood.
It makes no sense. You make no sense. Just tell the truth. You hate black people but love the things we make as long as the face on it isn’t ours.
But, you know, whatever. Go blast “Outside” by Enhypen while calling black Engenes slurs on Twitter and we can pretend that makes sense.
Not out loud, obviously. Yeosang would never let him live it down if he knew the chain reaction he’d caused from one stupid conversation at the kitchen counter. But still…. this was absolutely his fault.
Yunho stared at himself in the dark reflection of the microwave while the bleach processed in his hair for the second round, looking vaguely like a raccoon that had developed anxiety and access to student loans. The tiny salon smelled aggressively like chemicals, the fluorescent lights too bright for someone running on four hours of sleep and terrible decisions.
“What made you wanna go blond?” the stylist asked and because Yunho valued his dignity at least a little, he didn’t answer, “Because my roommate said blondes ruin her life and unfortunately I’d let her ruin mine on command.” Instead he’d shrugged and said, “Wanted a change.”
Which was technically true. Because before this, Yunho had at least been pretending he had his feelings under control. That illusion died three nights ago. It had been late. Almost one in the morning. You and Yeosang had come back from closing the campus café together smelling like coffee beans and sugar syrup, both of you exhausted and slap happy in that way people only got after working customer service too long. Yunho had been half asleep already, stretched across his bed with one airpod still in when he heard your laughter echo from the kitchen. Normally he tuned it out. He’d learned how to live around you a long time ago.
How to ignore the way your voice carried through walls. How not to think too hard when you wore his hoodies around the apartment and he wanted to hurt himself inside you with just said hoodie on. How not to stare when you sat cross legged on the couch beside him with wet hair after showers smelling like vanilla and coffee. He’d gotten good at surviving you. Mostly.
But that night he got up for water. And then he heard Yeosang say, “So your thing is just emotionally unavailable tall guys?” Your laugh came immediately after. “No, my thing is blondes unfortunately.” Yunho paused in the hallway going completely still. “I’m serious,” you continued. “Blondes are actually my weakness. It’s embarrassing.” And that was it. That was the moment his brain apparently vacated his body permanently.
Because the next morning he woke up thinking about it. Then he thought about it during class. Then during basketball practice. Then while brushing his teeth. Then at three in the morning while sitting cross legged on his bed researching hair bleach like he was preparing a dissertation.
Can dark hair go platinum in one session?
Will bleaching destroy natural waves?
Best blond shades for warm undertones.
The worst part? He knew it was pathetic. You’d all been friends since freshman year. Back when the three of you were living in tiny dorms with broken AC and surviving off instant ramen and campus vending machines. Back before Yunho had learned every version of your laugh by memory. Before he’d memorized your coffee order. Before the two of you ended up splitting rent on a shitty off campus apartment at the end of sophomore year because housing prices near campus were criminal.
Two years. Two years of shared grocery trips. Shared laundry. Shared late night study sessions. Shared space. Two years of wanting you so badly sometimes it physically hurt to look at you too long. And somehow you still had no idea. Or maybe you did. Yunho honestly couldn’t tell anymore. Sometimes he thought you had to know. Especially when your eyes lingered on him too long or when you’d fall asleep against his shoulder during movie nights without thinking twice about it.
Other times you treated him so casually he felt insane for even hoping. So yes. Maybe bleaching his hair because of one overheard conversation was humiliating. But Yunho had reached a point where he’d do a lot worse if it meant seeing you look at him differently for even half a second.
“Alright,” the stylist said finally, returning to his chair. “Ready to see it?” No. Absolutely not. But Yunho nodded anyway.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
By the time you finally made it home, your entire body felt held together by caffeine and spite. Your café visor was shoved into your tote bag, your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, technically it was Yunho’s hoodie, as you unlocked the apartment door with a tired sigh. The hallway outside still smelled faintly like somebody’s burned microwave dinner, and all you wanted was a shower and unconsciousness.
The apartment lights were dim except for the living room glow. A video game soundtrack echoed softly through the space, one you recognized from how many times Yunho plays it. Mortal Kombat. “You alive in here?” you called, kicking the door shut behind you. “Barely,” Yunho answered from the couch.
You smiled automatically at the sound of his voice. “Good. I brought your favorite croissants before they tossed the leftovers.”
“Chocolate ones?”
“Obviously.” You stepped into the living room, already pulling the paper bag from your tote. “Yeosang tried to steal one and I told him I’d…” The rest of the sentence died instantly and your footsteps stopped as Yunho looked up from the couch. Blonde. Your brain fully disconnected from your body for a solid three seconds. He was sprawled lazily across the couch in grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, one arm hooked behind his head while the PS5 controller rested loosely in his other hand. The TV painted shifting colors across him, catching against pale blonde hair that fell messily over his forehead like he’d been running his hands through it for hours.
Your mouth opened. Closed and then opened again. “What did you do to your hair?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Dyed it.” Like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t just casually altered your brain chemistry. You stepped closer without meaning to, still staring at him. “Why are you blonde?”
Yunho shrugged, eyes flicking back toward the tv too casually. Way too casually. “Wanted a change.”
You narrowed your eyes. “Since when?”
“Since today?”
You made a disbelieving noise under your breath, still frozen in the middle of the living room while your heartbeat started doing deeply embarrassing things. Because Yunho had always been attractive. That was the problem. You’d spent years trying very hard not to think about it too much. But this? This felt targeted. Like a personal attack he had no idea he was doing. His hair looked soft enough to touch. The blond made his eyes look darker somehow. Sharper.
And the worst part was how relaxed he looked about it, stretched across the couch like he had no idea he’d just walked straight out of every bad decision you’d ever made. Yunho glanced back at you again finally, slower this time because you were still staring. Not subtly either. Your fingers tightened around the paper bag slightly as your eyes dragged over his hair again before you could stop yourself and a tiny flicker of satisfaction crossed his face so fast you almost missed it. “You hate it?” he asked.
You laughed once in disbelief. “Hate it?” you repeated. “Yunho, you look insane.” His eyebrow lifted. “Insane bad or insane good?” The apartment suddenly felt very warm. Very small. You swallowed once and completely betrayed yourself as you mumbled. “Unfortunately insane good.” You tore your eyes away from him with actual effort and shoved the paper bag toward him before you could continue staring like a Victorian man witnessing an exposed ankle.
“Here,” you muttered. “Your croissants before I decide you don’t deserve them anymore.” Yunho snorted softly, setting the controller down on his stomach so he could take the bag from you. Your fingers brushed for barely a second, just enough to make your stomach flip.
“You’re so generous,” he said dryly.
“I know.”
You dropped onto the opposite end of the couch quickly, mostly because standing near him suddenly felt medically unsafe. The cushions dipped under your weight while Yunho pulled one of the croissants from the bag immediately, peeling the paper back. You watched him take a bite. Unfortunately that was somehow attractive too. This was a nightmare. You exhaled through your nose, trying very hard to regain control of yourself before saying something humiliating. “Your postseason championship tomorrow,” you said, tucking your legs beneath you. “You ready?”
Yunho’s expression shifted slightly then, the teasing easing into something softer. Their intramural basketball team had somehow made it all the way to finals. Which normally wouldn’t have mattered much except Yunho was annoyingly good at basically everything. Half the campus showed up to games just to watch him play. “Mm,” he hummed around another bite of croissant. “Kinda nervous.”
You blinked, shocked. “You? Nervous?”
“A little.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Coach has been acting like this is the NBA finals all week.”
You smiled despite yourself. “That’s because you’re carrying the entire team.”
“That is actually true.”
“There he is.” You pointed at him. “Arrogant again.”
Yunho grinned and, God, the blonde hair made his smile worse somehow. Brighter. You hated this. “You’re coming though, right?” he asked and you softened immediately. “Of course I am. I even switched shifts for it,” you added. “Yeosang’s covering close tomorrow.”
Yunho stared at you for a second too long. Something warm flickered behind his eyes. Then he looked away first, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Cool,” he said quietly. And suddenly the apartment didn’t feel casual anymore. Not with his blonde hair glowing gold under the tv light.
Not with the way he kept glancing at you between bites of croissant.
Not with the heavy feeling sitting low in your stomach every time he smiled.
You were in so much trouble.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The next afternoon was somehow worse. You’d spent the entire morning telling yourself you were being ridiculous. It was hair. Just fucking hair. People dyed their hair every day. Millions of people probably woke up blonde every morning and somehow society continued functioning. So why had you spent half your shift replaying the image of Yunho sprawled across the couch in your head?
Why had you almost poured whole milk into an iced americano because you’d gotten distracted thinking about it? Why had you caught yourself staring into space while wondering if it was as soft as it looked? You were losing your mind.
By the time your shift ended, you practically threw your apron into your locker and headed for the employee bathroom. The game started in less than an hour. You’d been going to Yunho’s games ever since freshman year when he’d somehow convinced you to attend one “just this once.” That had turned into every home game. Which had turned into wearing his jersey number. Which had turned into you owning a black and red fitted shirt with a giant white 08 on the back.
You absolutely refused to examine how that happened. The shirt was already folded in your bag. You changed quickly, pulling it over your head and fixing your hair in the mirror. The familiar number stretched across your back with JEONG right above it. A small smile tugged at your lips before you jumped as a knock sounded on the doorframe.
Yeosang stood there holding a box of pastries, immediately narrowing his eyes. “Why do you look guilty?”
“I don’t.”
“You absolutely do.”
You grabbed your bag. “I’m leaving. Have fun closing.” Yeosang stepped directly into your path. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”
“Nothing’s wrong.”
Unfortunately, after years of friendship, he had developed an almost supernatural ability to tell when something was bothering you. Or when you were lying. The café had mostly emptied out now, most like you, were heading to the game. You finally signed, groaning. “It’s Yunho.”
“See? I knew it.”
“You always know it.”
“What’s he done now?”
You hesitated. Because somehow saying it out loud felt embarrassing. Extremely embarrassing. Yeosang waited patiently. Then impatiently. Then dramatically until you blurted it out.
“He dyed his hair.”
Yeosang blinked. “What?”
“He dyed his hair.”
“And?”
“He dyed it blonde.”
Yeosang laughed. A little too loudly. “Oh my god! Are you serious?”
You groaned. Then immediately regretted opening your mouth at all. Because once you started talking, everything spilled out. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”
Yeosang barked out another laugh. “Oh, you’re down bad.”
“Shut up.”
“You are.”
“I know.”
“You know?”
“I know.”
Yeosang looked delighted as you looked miserable. “Every time I close my eyes,” you complained, “I just keep thinking about running my fingers through it and pulling on it while he…”
Yeosang immediately held up both hands. “Nope. Don’t need your nsfw details.”
You laughed despite yourself. “I wasn’t even going to say anything.”
“That sentence was headed somewhere awful.” Yeosang jokingly physically shuddered. “Please save that conversation for literally anyone else.” You laughed harder now, the tension easing slightly from your shoulders as Yeosang pointed toward the door. “Go.” He grabbed a towel and started wiping down a nearby counter. “Go watch your blonde basketball player.”
You rolled your eyes and headed backwards toward the exit. “He’s not my basketball player.”
Yeosang’s laugh followed you all the way out the door. “Sure he isn’t.”
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The gym was already packed by the time you arrived. Not professional sports packed. Not thousands of people screaming packed. College packed. Students crammed into bleachers. Friends holding homemade signs. The marching band warming up in one corner. The scent of popcorn and sweat and polished hardwood filling the air. The noise hit you immediately and you loved it.
You slipped through the crowd, making your way toward your usual section. A few people recognized the shirt you were wearing and smiled knowingly. Yunho’s number. As usual but you ignored the looks. At this point half the athletic department had apparently decided you and Yunho were dating years ago. The fact that neither of you had corrected them probably wasn’t helping.
The teams were already on the court warming up. And then you saw him and your feet almost stopped moving. God. That wasn’t fair. The basketball uniform had always looked good on him. That wasn’t new. The black and red jersey stretched across broad shoulders you’ve spent years pretending not to notice. His shorts hung low on his hips. His long legs seemed to take up half the court whenever he moved. Normally that was already enough to make maintaining a friendship feel like an Olympic sport. Now add the blonde hair and you were finished. Absolutely finished.
The bright gym lights caught the bleached strands every time he moved. Against the uniform it stood out immediately, making him impossible to miss even among dozens of players. Several girls nearby were staring and you immediately hated them. Then realized you were doing the exact same thing. Which somehow made it worse.
A whistle blew and warmups ended and the game began. You tried, you really did, to focus on the actual basketball. For maybe five minutes. Then Yunho stole the ball and the crowd erupted. You found yourself leaning forward automatically as he moved with an ease that always fascinated you. Confident. Fast. Certain. The version of Yunho most people knew was relaxed. Sweet and easygoing. Basketball was different. There was a sharpness to him here. A confidence. An intensity. Every movement looked deliberate. Every play looked effortless. And apparently blonde hair made all of it ten times more distracting.
Halfway through the first half he scored again and the crowd exploded all over again as Yunho jogged backward down the court breathing hard. Sweat glistening along his neck. You immediately looked away. Then immediately looked back. Which was a mistake. Because once again your brain had decided to imagine what that hair would feel like beneath your fingers. Pulling….. gripping…..
You shifted in your seat, clenching your thighs together and knew if this was one of those omegaverse stories Yeosang likes to read, the whole gym would smell how turned on you were right now. By halftime you had learned three things: One, Your roommate was going to win this game. Two, The blonde hair somehow looked even better than it had last night. And three….. You desperately needed to get your act together before he noticed the way you kept staring or wet you are as he glanced up and smiled at you.
Yunho had always been good at pretending. That was probably the only reason he’d survived the last few years. Because if he hadn’t learned how to hide things, you would’ve figured him out sometime during freshman year. Back before there was an apartment. Before shared rent. Before he realized he was completely screwed. The game should have had his full attention. It was the championship. The biggest game of the season. The final game of his college career.
And yet every few minutes his eyes drifted toward the bleachers anyway. Toward you. They always did. The first time he’d looked over after warmups, he’d almost forgotten what play they were running. Because there you were as always wearing his name and number. And Yunho hated how much he liked it. Actually, hate wasn’t the right word. The truth was much worse. He loved it. Loved it in a way he would absolutely never admit out loud.
Because the second he started examining why seeing you wear his number made him feel the way it did, he’d have to confront some very uncomfortable truths about himself. Like the fact he was possessive. Not in an unhealthy way. Not in a controlling way. Just… Yours. His brain immediately corrected. No. Not yours. You weren’t his. He knew that. But every time he saw another guy talking to you for too long, something ugly twisted in his chest.
Every time someone flirted with you at parties. Every time some idiot from one of your classes made you laugh. Yunho had to sit there pretending he was perfectly normal about it. So yes. Watching you wear his name and number did something to him……
Yunho snapped back into the play when the whistle blew again. He intercepted a pass, pushed the ball down court, and scored. His teammates slapped his shoulders as they ran back and the crowd cheered but he barely heard them. Because his eyes were already looking toward the stands again and you were watching him. A smile pulling at your mouth and his chest tightened immediately. God. He was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. He immediately turned away. Then looked back three seconds later because apparently he had no self control anymore.
He kept glancing at you for the rest of the half. Through every possession. Every timeout. Every basket. Until finally midway through the second half he ended up at the free throw line and the gym quieted as Yunho bounced the ball once. Twice. Then glanced toward the stands out of habit again and immediately regretted it. Because you were looking right at him. Your chin resting against your hand. Looking at him like he was the only thing in the entire gym worth paying attention to. The shot nearly rimmed out but Yunho caught himself at the last second and the ball dropped through the net.
You weren’t even pretending to watch anyone else anymore. The scoreboard overhead glowed brightly against the gym lights, the numbers changing every few possessions. The opposing team was better than expected. Every time Yunho’s team started pulling away, they clawed their way back. The tension in the building kept rising. Students stood. The bench stood. Even the coaches looked stressed. And through all of it, Yunho somehow looked completely composed.
His blonde hair was darker now with sweat, the strands sticking slightly to his forehead as he moved across the court. The jersey clung to his back. His breathing had become heavier over the course of the game, but he never seemed to slow down. You’d watched him play dozens of times. Maybe a hundred. But tonight felt different. Everything felt different. Every glance toward him and him towards you lingered a little longer than it should. Every smile he gave a teammate made your stomach flutter. Every time he pushed his hair back from his face, your brain short circuited.
The scoreboard buzzed. Two minutes remaining. The game was tied and the entire gym seemed to collectively hold its breath. You shifted forward on the bleachers, elbows on your knees now. Nobody around you was sitting anymore. The student section was practically vibrating as the opposing team scored and groans erupted. Then thirty seconds later Yunho answered with a three pointer that nearly blew the roof off the place and you found yourself shouting before you even realized it but the sound was swallowed by hundreds of other voices.
Yunho pointed toward a teammate as they ran back down the court. One minute left. Then forty seconds. Then thirty. The score stayed tied and every possession felt life or death. You could see the exhaustion on every player now. The way they bent slightly when the play stopped. The sweat soaking through uniforms. The desperation. Twenty seconds. The opposing team missed. The rebound bounced loose and one of Yunho’s teammates grabbed it. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. You stood fully now, heart pounding as the gym felt deafening.
Yunho sprinted across half court and the ball found him immediately. Everyone in the building knew who was taking the final shot. Even the other team. Two defenders closed on him instantly. Five seconds. Four. The noise became unbearable. Three. Yunho stepped back, just enough space to aim as time seemed to slow. You saw the ball leave his hands. Saw the arc. Saw the blonde hair falling into his eyes as he watched it fly and the entire gym froze……
For a split second there was silence. Pure silence. Then absolute chaos. The buzzer sounded. The scoreboard flashed. His team had won and the gym exploded. Boomed. Students screamed. The bench stormed the court as teammates tackled each other. People jumped onto the hardwood from the stands and the sound hit like a wave. And through all the madness, all the celebration, all the movement… Your eyes found Yunho immediately. He was laughing. Head thrown back. Arms spread as his teammates nearly knocked him over as they swarmed him.
For a moment he disappeared entirely beneath the crowd before he emerged again. Breathing hard and grinning. Flushed from exertion and adrenaline. You got up and made your way down the bleachers and onto the court and for a split second, you considered leaving.
The idea hit you the moment you reached the court through the chaos of celebration. Students were spilling onto the hardwood. Teammates were hugging each other. Coaches were getting drenched in water bottles. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once. Then you saw her. Standing beside Yunho. Red hair. Pretty. One of the cheerleaders. And not just any cheerleader. You knew exactly who she was. Brandy. Unfortunately. Because sophomore year, long before you’d let yourself admit your feelings for Yunho, he’d gotten drunk at a Halloween party and disappeared upstairs with her.
You’d spent the rest of that night pretending it hadn’t bothered you. Just like you’d spent the next years pretending a lot of things. Now she was standing entirely too close to him. Laughing. Touching his arm. Looking up at him with the kind of smile that made your stomach immediately sink. The championship high vanished from your system so fast it was almost impressive. You stopped walking. The noise of the gym suddenly felt distant. Stupid. This was stupid.
Yunho wasn’t your boyfriend. He could talk to whoever he wanted. He could fuck whoever he wanted. He’d done exactly that for years. And yet all you could think about was the way she’d reached up a second ago and touched his shoulder while laughing and how you wanted to break her hand for doing it.
Your jaw tightened and before you could stop yourself, you turned. You’d just leave. Nobody would notice. The team would celebrate. Yunho would celebrate. You’d text him congratulations later. Simple. Except apparently the universe had decided you weren’t getting away that easily. Because before you’d taken more than three steps, you heard your name and you froze.
“Y/N!”
You looked back as Yunho was already jogging toward you leaving the conversation with Brandy entirely.She looked confused as he disappeared and your heart did something deeply embarrassing as Yunho reached you a moment later, slightly out of breath from both the game and weaving through the crowd. The smile on his face hadn’t disappeared since the winning shot. “Where are you going?”
You shoved your hands into your pockets. “Nowhere.” His eyes narrowed immediately. The same way they always did when he knew you were lying. “Uh huh.” You shrugged. “You were leaving.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You literally turned around.”
“I changed directions.”
Yunho stared at you and you stared back. Then, to your horror, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Like he knew exactly what had happened. Like he was enjoying it as you kept glancing at his sweat damp hair. “I’m gonna go shower real quick,” he said. “We’re all going to Murphys to celebrate.” The little sports bar was only a few blocks from your apartment. Close enough that most students walked there. You nodded. Trying very hard to act normal. “Okay.”
His smile widened slightly. “Then we can go together.” The words landed harder than they should have. Because he could’ve gone with teammates. Or literally anyone else. Instead he’d said we. Like it was obvious. Like of course he was going with you and a warmth spread through your chest despite your best efforts. “You sure?” you asked and the question came out before you could stop it and something flickered across Yunho’s face. Confusion. Then amusement. Then something softer. “Why wouldn’t I be?”
You opened your mouth and closed it again. Because you couldn’t exactly say because Brandy looked like she wanted to climb him like a tree. So instead you shrugged. “Just asking.” Yunho watched you for a second. A long second. The kind that felt dangerous. Then one of his teammates shouted his name from across the court and the moment broke. “Give me twenty minutes,” Yunho said, backing away. “Don’t disappear.”
Your stomach flipped as the grin he gave you was quick. Easy. Familiar. Then he turned and headed toward the locker rooms as you kept standing there watching him go. Watching the blonde hair. Watching the way students stopped him every few feet to congratulate him. Watching three separate girls try to get his attention in the span of thirty seconds.
And for the first time all night, a realization settled heavily in your chest. The jealousy wasn’t getting better. If anything, it was getting worse.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
Murphys was exactly what every college sports bar eventually became on a championship night. Packed and overly loud. Impossible to move through without bumping into somebody. The moment you and Yunho stepped through the front doors, a roar erupted from somewhere near the back where most of the team had already claimed several tables. Someone immediately started chanting his name. Another teammate nearly spilled a beer trying to get his attention. You couldn’t help smiling. This was his night. The culmination of four years of practices, games, injuries, early mornings, and everything in between. And somehow, despite all the attention immediately being directed at him, Yunho still glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were following.
The small gesture shouldn’t have affected you but it did unfortunately. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, the blonde strands softer than before and pushed loosely back from his forehead. A few pieces had already fallen forward again, framing his face in a way that should probably be illegal. He’d traded the basketball uniform for black jeans and a dark grey henley that fit entirely too well across his shoulders. You hated how aware you were of every detail and the way half the women in the bar immediately noticed him.
“Over here!” one of his teammates yelled. The team occupied nearly an entire section of the bar now, pitchers and baskets of food already covering the tables. The second Yunho approached, someone shoved a shot glass into his hand. Then another. Then another. And another. “Champions drink free tonight!” someone shouted. The chanting started almost immediately and Yunho rolled his eyes then knocked back the first shot anyway.
You found yourself laughing despite everything. For a little while, it was easy. The energy was infectious. Everyone was celebrating. The game replayed on televisions mounted around the bar and every few minutes somebody brought up the final shot again. Every single retelling somehow made Yunho look more embarrassed.
You were watching him grin through another round of congratulations when your stomach suddenly dropped. Her. Brandy. She’d arrived sometime in the last ten minutes. You hadn’t noticed until now. Until she stood near the opposite side of the table talking to a few people from the athletic department and entirely too interested in Yunho. You tried ignoring it. Really. You focused on your drink. Focused on conversations around you. Focused on literally anything else. Then you looked up again and she was moving closer.
Your jaw tightened as she stopped right beside Yunho who didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did. You couldn’t tell as someone handed him another shot and he accepted it with a laugh as Brandy laughed too. At something that wasn’t even funny. Your grip tightened around your glass as she kept finding reasons to move closer, reaching out and touching Yunho’s arm while saying something. The movement lasted barely a second but it still made something unpleasant twist in your chest.
You immediately looked away and moved towards the bar having no idea Yunho was trying. He really was. He’d spent the last ten minutes being cornered by teammates, congratulated by professors he barely knew, handed enough shots to tranquilize a horse, and somehow Brandy had attached herself to his side like a particularly persistent barnacle. Ordinarily, he would’ve felt a little bad. Brandy was nice enough. Kind of. Not really.
They’d hooked up exactly once nearly two years ago after a Halloween party, discovered they had absolutely no chemistry beyond mutual attraction, and never did it again. Since then they’d been friendly. Casual. At least, Yunho thought they’d been casual. Apparently Brandy had different ideas. Because she kept laughing at things that weren’t funny. Kept touching his arm. Kept finding excuses to lean closer. And Yunho kept trying to politely create space without making a scene.
His attention wasn’t even on her. It hadn’t been all night. The problem was that his attention was currently locked on the opposite side of the bar. Specifically on you. And the guy sitting beside you. Sean. Of course it was Sean. Yunho knew Sean. Everybody knew Sean. Another player. Not on the basketball team, but one of the soccer guys. Tall. Built. Annoyingly good looking. And blonde. Naturally blond and that realization hit Yunho like a personal attack.
Of course. Of fucking course. The universe apparently had jokes tonight. Because there you were, sitting at the bar with Sean occupying the stool beside you. Laughing and smiling. Looking comfortable. And all Yunho could think about was that stupid conversation he’d overheard about blondes being your weakness.
His jaw tightened as Sean leaned closer to hear something you said over the music and you laughed and Yunho immediately hated him. Not rationally. Not fairly. Just instantly. “You even listening to me?” Brandy’s voice snapped him back for half a second. “What?”
“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said.”
And he still wasn’t as a fresh wave of irritation rolled through Yunho. Which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. You weren’t his girlfriend. You could talk to whoever you wanted. You could date whoever you wanted. Fuck whoever you wanted. The same rules he’d been reminding himself of for years. The problem was they weren’t working anymore.
Yunho immediately looked again. And hated that he looked again. Because the second he saw your smile directed at someone else, that ugly feeling in his chest returned. Stronger this time. Possessive. Frustrated. Dangerously close to becoming something he couldn’t keep hidden much longer. And judging by the way Sean had started leaning even closer, Yunho was rapidly running out of patience.
Sean was halfway through telling some story about getting thrown out of an intramural soccer game when Yunho finally reached his limit. “Fuck it.” Before he could talk himself out of it, Yunho started walking towards you and the moment you felt his presence, you turned. And immediately forgot how to function.
Yunho had one hand braced against the bar behind your stool. The other settled on the counter beside your drink. In one smooth movement he’d essentially wedged himself into the tiny space behind you. Not touching. Technically. But close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough that his shirt brushed the back of your shoulder when he shifted. Close enough that the familiar scent of him immediately invaded your senses and your brain completely short circuited.
Sean looked up and grinned immediately. “Jeong!” Yunho nodded once and to Sean’s credit, he didn’t seem remotely threatened. Or aware. “Hell of a game,” Sean continued. “That shot was ridiculous.”
“Thanks.”
“You saved your whole team.”
“Someone had to.”
Sean laughed and Yunho smiled politely. Meanwhile you sat frozen between them. Because while Sean was carrying on a perfectly normal conversation, Yunho remained exactly where he was. Behind you. Practically looming as his arm still rested along the bar behind your stool. You grabbed your drink then immediately regretted it because your hand was shaking slightly. Wonderful.
“You guys still living together after graduation?” The question landed like a grenade. Sean looked genuinely curious when you looked startled and Yunho looked calm. “Yeah,” Yunho answered before you could and your eyes immediately flicked toward him as Sean nodded. “Nice. Makes life easier.”
“It does.” The answer came instantly. Like Yunho hadn’t even needed to think about it and something warm stirred in your chest as Sean smiled. “Honestly, I don’t know how you two do it. I’d kill most of my roommates after two years.”
This time you laughed. “So would I.”
Yunho looked down at you immediately. “You wound me.”
“You leave dishes in the sink.”
“They soak.”
“They rot.”
“They marinate.”
Sean barked out a laugh and you laughed too as Yunho smiled. And for a brief second the jealousy disappeared entirely. Because this felt familiar. Comfortable. The two of you slipping into the easy rhythm you’d built over years. Then Sean smiled at you again and the jealousy came roaring right back. Yunho’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as his eyes lingered on Sean for a moment longer than necessary then dropped to you.
“Oh, there he is.” You followed Sean’s gaze to see another soccer player waving him over from a crowded table near the back as Sean stood. “My roommate is going to drink himself into a medical emergency if I leave him alone any longer.”
“Probably a good idea then,” you said as Sean pointed toward Yunho. “Again, congrats on the win.”
“Thanks.”
And just like that, Sean was gone and the moment he disappeared into the crowd, the space beside you was empty for approximately half a second before Yunho sat down. Like he’d been waiting for the opportunity. The stool Sean had vacated hadn’t even stopped spinning before Yunho claimed it. You stared into your drink to hide your smile as the bar remained loud around you. Students celebrating. Glasses clinking. Music playing overhead.
But suddenly all of your attention narrowed to the person sitting beside you as Yunho leaned forward against the bar. His blonde hair had dried almost completely by now. Which somehow made it worse as you heard him mumble almost to himself. “You really do like blondes, don’t you.”
You froze. The words weren’t loud. But they were loud enough and Yunho froze too, his eyes widening slightly and for a second neither of you moved before you furrowed your brows. “What?”
Yunho stared straight ahead. The picture of regret. You could practically see him replaying the last five seconds in his head. Trying to decide if there was any possible way to pretend he hadn’t just said that.
“What did you just say?”
A faint flush crept up the back of his neck and his ears turned red and the realization hit you immediately. Yunho was embarrassed. Genuinely embarrassed. And somehow that made your pulse jump even harder.
“You told Yeosang you like blondes.” His words landed between you and your brain stopped working. For a moment you weren’t even sure you’d heard correctly. “You… heard that?”
Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe.”
Your jaw dropped. “Yunho.”
“It was an accident.”
“You eavesdropped on us?”
“I was getting water.”
“You were eavesdropping while getting water.”
“I was not.”
“You absolutely were.”
“I wasn’t.”
“You dyed your hair.” The words slipped out before you could stop them and Yunho finally looked at you. “You dyed your hair because of that?” you asked quietly and Yunho let out a short laugh. Not amused. More like someone caught red handed. “Maybe.” His jaw tightened as his fingers flexed around an empty beer bottle. For a moment he looked like he was debating whether to keep hiding. Then something in his expression shifted.
“I wanted you to look at me.” The words landed like a punch and your breath caught as Yunho laughed once. “Actually, no. That’s not true.” He shook his head. “I wanted you to want me. I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he admitted and you could have swore your heart stopped beating. “Since freshman year, probably. You remember when you got sick during finals?” You stared at him. Of course you remembered. You’d spent three days miserable in your dorm while Yunho kept showing up with soup and notes. “I remember.”
“I skipped practice for that.”
Your chest tightened. “I know.”
“You don’t.” His eyes locked onto yours. “I skipped practice because I couldn’t focus knowing you were sick.” Yunho looked away briefly before continuing. “I tried getting over it.” A small laugh escaped him again. “Didn’t work.” Your throat felt tight. “I dated other people. Didn’t work.” The noise of the bar washed around you but neither of you seemed to notice anymore. “Then we moved in together.” He smiled faintly. “Which was probably the worst decision I’ve ever made.”
Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you as Yunho’s gaze softened. “Do you know how hard it is living with someone you want?” The air left your lungs because of you did. “You wear my hoodies.” His voice was lower now. “You fall asleep on my shoulder. You wear my name and my number.” Your eyes dropped briefly to the black shirt and when you looked back up, Yunho was already watching you. “I like when you wear it.”
Your heart nearly stopped. “You do?”
“Yeah.” Yunho’s jaw flexed. Then he admitted the thing he probably never intended to. “It makes me feel like you’re mine.” The words settled heavily between you and Yunho immediately looked away. Like even after everything, that confession felt too revealing. Too possessive. Too honest. But it was already out there now. And suddenly so many things made sense. The way he’d always noticed when you wore the shirt. The way he’d smiled every time. The way he’d looked at you during games. The way he’d dyed his hair. The way he’d looked at you tonight and slowly, Yunho looked back and his expression was completely open now.
“I want you.” The words were barely above a whisper, yet somehow they hit harder than anything else he’d said. Your heart was beating so hard it hurt and for a moment neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. You simply stared at each other before you stood and the movement made Yunho blink, eyes following you immediately. Confused, hopeful and a little worried.
“You want me.” It wasn’t a question but your words made Yunho’s throat bob as he nodded like he couldn’t trust his voice anymore and the look in his eyes nearly destroyed you as a tiny smile tugged at your lips. “Then come have me.” And for a second, Yunho simply stared. Like his brain had completely stopped functioning.
Then his chair scraped against the floor so loud heads turned to stare a little as he followed you out the bar.
═════════ ═════════ ═════════
The front door of your apartment barely clicked shut behind you before the tension that had been building all evening, for years, snapped like a live wire. Yunho’s hands were already on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you back against the wood paneling as his mouth found yours in a deep, hungry kiss finally. His tongue slid against yours with urgent need, tasting faintly of the drinks you’d had and the shots he downed. He pulled back just enough to breathe the words against your lips, voice low and rough. “You want me?”
You laughed softly, the sound turning into a gasp when his hips rolled forward to pin you tighter. “Obviously, blondie.” He grinned and then moved. Both of you pulled and tugged at each other’s clothes not wasting anymore time because you already waited years and both of you were impatient now. Shirts tugged over heads, pants shoved down legs, socks kicked aside, Yunho almost tripped once, until both of you stood in nothing but underwear, breathing hard as Yunho’s gaze raked over your body, pupils blown wide, before he bent and lifted you effortlessly.
Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you down the short hallway, mouth never leaving yours except to nip at your jaw, tongue gliding against your skin as he shouldered open the door to his bedroom and lowered you onto the edge of the bed wasting no time to start kissing his way down your throat, across your collarbones, pausing to suck lightly at the swell of each breast still covered by your bra. You reached behind yourself and unclasped it, letting the fabric fall away and Yunho’s hands immediately replaced it, palms warm as they cupped and squeezed, thumb stroking over one nipple before he leaned down to take it into his mouth. “Fuck….” You gasped as groaned against you, sucking harder, letting his teeth graze before moving to do the same thing to your other one as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your thighs, slow and deliberate.
He gave one more little nip at your nipple before sliding down and dropping to his knees between your legs, hooking one over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, working higher with open mouthed presses of his lips and your fingers threaded into his hair, gripping the bleached strands as he finally reached your center and his tongue dragged a long, flat stripe up your folds before circling your clit.
He took his time, licking and sucking with focused attention, occasionally dipping lower to push his tongue inside you in slow, deliberate little thrusts. A low groan vibrated against you when his own hand slipped into his boxers to wrap around his dick, stroking in time with the rhythm of his tongue just enough to edge himself as your hips started rocking against his face and the wet sounds of his mouth to fill the room. “Yunho…. I’m….” You could feel it, between the way he would rotate plunging his tongue insult to moving back up to suck your aching clit into to his mouth. You could feel your wetness, juices leaking against his chin, smearing, covering his face.
“FUCK!” Your orgasm slammed against you, coming with a sharp cry, thighs trembling around his head while he kept licking through every pulse and your grip tightened in his hair, eyes rolling back a little as he kept going until you couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged him upward by his hair and didn’t miss the way he moaned at his hair being pulled. “I need you inside me now.”
Yunho stood in one fluid motion, you certainly did not have to tell him twice. He shoved his boxers down, catching your ankles and pulling you toward the edge of the mattress, lifting you into his lap as he sat back on the bed, kissing you as you both could feel his tip aching against you, precum smearing at your entrance. “Look at me.” His voice was rough, raspy, as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You want this?” He held you up, giving enough space for the head of his dick to just barely slip inside you. “You want me to bury myself inside you and make you mine?”
“Please….” You hated that it sounded as if you were desperate and begging but you literally were and it was enough to make him groan as held you, sinking you down onto him in one smooth glide and both of you moaned at the stretch, at the years of wanting finally released. He held you there for a moment, forehead staying pressed to yours, letting you adjust to the deep fullness until you began to move, rising and sinking in steady bounces.
Every downward stroke seated him fully, the angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. It didn’t take long before the pressure crested again, you were to full, the knowledge of him taking you almost too much and you could feel it already, hitting you to fast. You clenched around him and felt yourself squirt, wetness spilling over his thighs and Yunho’s control fractured. “Holy shit, baby….” He laid you flat on the bed and drove into you harder, hips snapping forward while you kept coming in messy pulses around him. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your cries as your hands yanked at his hair which only fueled him to pound into you faster.
Another orgasm rolled through you, legs shaking uncontrollably, your moan formed into a cry of his name and Yunho pulled out, mouth returning to your pussy to lap at the fresh slick while you were still coming, tongue slipping inside you again as your walls clenched with aftershocks, and the moan he let out like you watching and having you come apart was the best thing to ever happen to him almost made you come again if he hadn’t pulled back and flipped you onto your stomach.
His hands gripped your hips to pull you back onto your knees, pressing you down into the mattress with one big hand between your shoulder blades, gripping his dick in his other hand, teasing his tip at your ass for a minute before moving it back down and thrusting back inside your overstimulated pussy from behind, going a little slower now, savoring the way you gripped him. “Always wanted this,” he murmured, voice thick. “Wanted you like this, taking every inch.” One hand slid around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. “Whose pussy is it?”
You tried to answer but all you could manage for a moment were whimpers, small little cries. “Yours,” you gasped, pushing back to meet him. “It’s your pussy.” The words seemed to ignite something in him. His pace quickened, hips slapping against your ass with each deep thrust as he pulled you upright against his chest, one arm banded across your waist to hold you steady while he continued pounding up into you. The new angle keeping him buried to the hilt, and the steady friction soon had you coming again, body arching back into him.
“Fuck…” Yunho reached up, hand wrapping around your throat, tilting your head back as he could feel his dick twitch. “Mine.” He groaned, thrusts frantic and gone as held you there right, coming, groaning your name as he filled you, hot pulses flooding deep inside you while his arms tightened around you, keeping you close through the aftershocks, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck as both of you caught your breath, the room quiet except for the sound of your mingled breathing.
For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan in the corner and the sound of your breathing slowly finding its rhythm again. The adrenaline that had carried you from the bar to the apartment was finally beginning to settle, leaving behind something warmer. Softer and real as Yunho rolled onto his back with a groan, one arm immediately reaching for you before you’d even fully settled beside him. Like it was instinct. Like after spending years wanting you, he couldn’t quite convince himself that this wasn’t some elaborate dream his brain had invented.
Then, after a moment, Yunho smiled. Dangerously teasing. The same look he always wears whenever he knows he was about to win an argument. He tilted his head slightly and chuckle escaped him. “You really do like blondes, huh?”
You laughed immediately, then reached up and pushed the hair back from his forehead, fingers lingering there and the teasing expression disappeared from Yunho’s face as he watched you. Watched the fond smile pull at your mouth.
“Mhmmm,” you hummed then you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But I like just Yunho too.”
And for a second, he simply stared before the biggest smile you’d ever seen spread across his face. And somehow, impossibly, that smile was better than the blonde hair.
Prompt: You’re best friends with (ATEEZ member) and are in need of a little no-strings loving; could he be the one to help with that?
Warning: Smut (obviously, hello)
A/n: This is gonna be a bunch of parts (one for each member) and I will be uploading in installments. Okay bye <3.
3.) Yunho
"You know what your problem is?" You ask, chomping loudly on your Hot Cheeto. He doesn't look at you, as he's too focused on his laptop screen, trying to find the land survey he had sent to his boss two weeks ago that his boss is only now inquiring about. "Mm?" He grunts, urging you to go on, though he’s only halfway listening. "The problem is that you don't put your foot down." "Put my foot down about what?" He furrows his brows. “About anything," You huff, crossing your legs as you sit next to him, "You let people get away with too much. And now look at you; on our Friday movie night—which we've been planning for a month, mind you— you're stuck in front of your computer because your boss thinks it's okay to pester you after hours." "Hey, if I want him to promote me, I’m gonna have to let some things slide.”
He's always been the more easy-going one in the friendship; any time someone crossed boundaries or talked to him crazy, he'd just shrug it off like it was no big deal. It would piss you off to no end. There was only one time you ever saw him get really really mad; it was your junior year of high school and everyone was kinda losing their shit (finals week, of course). You were studying at your desk and had your open water bottle next to you; a student walked by and accidentally bumped the table, which knocked your bottle over. Water got all over your desk mate’s practice test and on his pants. He immediately flew off the handle, yelling and cussing you out for being a “stupid bitch.”
All it took was for Yunho to hear those words come out of his mouth, and in three long strides, Yunho was pulling you out of the way and punching your desk mate in the jaw. When you looked up at Yunho’s face, he was bright red and absolutely seething with anger. He’d have gone in for another punch, except you stepped in to stop him. Luckily, some students who saw the whole thing were able to get him out of trouble— albeit, by embellishing a little. They said they saw your desk mate go in to punch you, but you knew it was just to get Yunho off the hook. You must admit, his easygoing nature was what made him pretty well-liked. Still, this is the adult world and you wish he’d just tell his boss to fuck off.
A few more minutes of silence, save for the sound of Yunho typing away on his keyboard, you shoot up from your seat, “I’m gonna go get us some food.” “Alright. My keys are on the counter.” The bastard doesn’t even spare a second glance, even though he almost never lets you drive his car. You know he’s only being cool about it because he wants you to stop bugging him while he tries to finish up what he’s doing. You grab the keys and twirl them around on your fingers, “Yeah…I’m gonna go get….burgers. Yup. From that place across town,” You narrow your eyes at him, wanting to gauge his reaction at the mention of you going across town alone so late at night. This burger spot you’re talking about, The Big Bun, is known for having the best burgers but the absolute worst reputation, as far as violence. The last time you and Yunho had gone, you saw a man pull a knife, trying to rob a customer, and a couple fully throwing punches at each other in the parking lot. Not to mention, all the drunks who love to catcall female patrons going in and out of the restaurant.
Yunho lifts his head, “Why don’t you get pizza instead?” “Because I want burgers,” You say stubbornly, crossing your arms. He looks at you for a brief moment, then returns to his computer, “Fine. Knock yourself out.” You furrow your brows, surprised at how easily he seems to be letting you go. “Fine. I will.” You go to Yunho’s hall closet and grab one of his hoodies, quickly throwing it on and walking out the front door. That little asshole is really gonna let me go by myself, you huff as you slam the car door. You turn the key in the ignition and the car roars to life. You begin to scroll on your phone as you let the car heat up, when suddenly, the passenger side door opens, causing you to jump. Yunho slides in and closes the door behind you. It takes everything in you not to smile smugly, “What happened? Thought you weren’t coming.” He rolls his eyes and buckles himself in, “How are you even more childish in adulthood?”
In truth, Yunho did, very briefly, consider letting you take on this adventure to that dangerous ass burger spot on your own, but his guilt immediately began gnawing at him. He couldn’t live with himself if something actually happened to you, so, begrudgingly, he slammed his laptop shut and came out to the car. Besides, he knew you wanted him to come anyway, which is the only reason you were lingering. He glances sideways at you as you begin driving. “You have a bad habit of stealing my clothes.” “It’s not stealing,” You turn onto the main road, “it’s…borrowing. We’re like sisters in that way.” “You’re insufferable.” “See, all this sass?” You motion toward him, “should be directed at your BOSS.”
After about twenty minutes, you make it across town. It’s nearly 9:30PM, and the burger joint still has a bit of a line. Yunho sighs at the sight, already dreading having to wait a million years in line for a burger— although, he knows as soon as he sinks his teeth into that burger, all this dread is straight out the window. “Whatcha gonna get?” You ask as you both walk meet at the front of the car and start walking up to join the line. “What I always get: bacon cheeseburger w/ everything.” “I think I might get that too…wanna split some curly fries?” You ask, grinning up at him. “Absolutely not. You don’t know the meaning of the word split. You always eat all the fries.” “Correction: You let me eat all the fries. Be mad at yourself,” You say, self-righteously walking ahead of him by just a few steps. He chuckles, having to admit you’re absolutely right.
He knows you think he’s too nice, and he wouldn’t necessarily disagree…but he also wouldn’t fully agree either. It’s not that he can’t defend himself; in fact, he’s very capable of it. Before you and he met freshman year, he was actually always in trouble. He wasn’t raised in the best family, so everyone was always fighting: his parents with each other, his dad with him, his mom with him— it got to a point where Yunho was known at school for being a hot head. But when high school came, he’d just decided that wasn’t him anymore, and when he met you? Someone who seemed to find it so easy to step in and defend him instead of beating him down like everyone else? You made it easy for him to be gentle again…or rather, for the first time.
But, of course, just like that time in high school when that asshole called you a stupid bitch— Yunho knows when to turn it on.
The line is moving rather quickly, thankfully, and you’re finally two people away from being next to order when you hear the two guys behind you start to whisper something about you. You try to ignore it, telling yourself they might not even be talking about you— that is, until one of them very blatantly says, “I’d hit.” Your heart rate picks up, and you glance at Yunho who doesn’t seem to have heard, since he’s scrolling mindlessly on his phone while you wait. You try to ignore it again, but once more, the guy says, “She looks like she’d be a bitch but I can manage.” Finally, you turn around and stare the fucker right in his face, stunning him slightly momentarily into silence. Yunho notices movement from your direction, and he looks over at you, only to see you staring at that guy. Immediately, he puts his phone down, his eyes going from you to him, assessing the situation.
“Say something else,” You hiss, furrowing your brows at him. The guy looks over at his friend, suddenly realizing he’s letting a woman make him look like a punk, so he straightens up, “And what are you gonna do? I can say whatever the fuck I want.” That’s all Yunho needs to hear to immediately step in. Of course, Yunho’s as tall as a tree, and this guy’s head is barely at Yunho’s shoulder— but he doesn’t let that deter him. “Let’s settle down here,” Yunho says, his tone even, but you can immediately hear the edge in his voice; one he never uses with you, even when you annoy the shit out of him. “And who the fuck are you?” The guys asks, puffing out his chest. “Don’t worry about who I am and just calm down.” “Tell your bitch to calm down, how about that?”
It’s a change that happens almost in the blink of an eye, yet somehow, it’s like you’re watching it in slow motion. The drop of Yunho’s face, the furrow of his brow, the tightness in his lip, the flare of his nostrils— and that red color change to his skin. The sight makes your heart race uncontrollably. You watch as he swiftly raises his fist and, just as he had on that day all those years ago, he swings it clean into the guy’s jaw. At this point, the entire restaurant is watching, though they keep their distance. The one thing about hood burger joints like these? Everybody minds their business. Immediately, you take hold of Yunho’s fist, as it looks like he’s about to go in for another one, but the dude’s already stumbling back, completely dazed from the one, solitary punch. “Yunho,” You say firmly. At the sound of your voice, he immediately puts his fist down and looks at you. “Come on, let’s go back home,” You say, grabbing his wrist and pulling him out of the line and back to the parking lot.
You don’t let go of him until you’re about to get in the car, but he doesn’t get in right away. Instead, he leans up against the car, his shoulders moving up and down as he tries to catch his breath; the adrenaline makes it so hard to breathe. He can’t really name what it is he’s feeling: guilt? Anger? Sadness? He knows the guy needed to be put in his place, but knowing he would’ve lost control if you hadn’t stopped him…it makes him feel like a sort of ticking time bomb. “Yunho,” You let go of the door handle and walk around the car to his side, stopping until you’re just a foot away from him. He looks away, shoving his hands in his pockets. “What’s wrong?” You ask, looking up at him. “Nothing.” “Clearly it’s not nothing,” You say, trying to be as gentle as possible, “Talk to me.”
He’s quiet for a moment longer before finally letting out a deep sigh, “I almost lost control. If you hadn’t been there—” “But I was,” You shrug, immediately shutting down his what if thoughts, “just like I was there to stop you when you punched that kid for calling me a stupid bitch. Remember?” “Oh yeah,” He snorts softly, “that dickwad.” “Exactly. He was a dickwad, and so was the guy in line. Don’t beat yourself up about it, okay? You were just protecting me.” “Still…” He tries to continue, but you put your hand up to motion for him to stop talking, “Enough. You did the right thing.”
The ride to the house is quiet, and you can tell he’s still thinking about it, but you don’t say anything to him until you go inside. You both slip off your shoes and change into slippers, and he follows you into the kitchen. You open the fridge and look over what you have, but you’re really trying to give yourself some time to figure out what to say to him to make him feel better. “You really should let your anger out more often, you know.” He scoffs, “That would be disastrous.” “I’m serious. It’s healthy for you to let it out. And besides, I have to admit, you looked kinda—” You stop yourself abruptly, realizing what you’re about to say. “Kinda what?” He asks, not catching on immediately. “Huh?” You scramble to think of some kind of cover. He furrows his brows at you, “You were gonna say I look kinda what?” He leans on the counter, folding his arms over his chest as he narrows his eyes at you. You stand there, feeling your face get red, “Don’t let this go to your head, okay?” You warn him, finally conceding, “I was gonna say that…well, when you get angry, you look kinda…hot.” Immediately, you look away from him and focus back on the contents of the fridge.
He’s stuck for a moment while he processes what you’ve just said. “You…you think I looked hot back there?” “Let’s not get carried away here. All I’m saying is that when a man lets that part of himself out every once in a while, it can be pretty attractive.” He can’t help the small smirk that grows on his face, and he feels himself loosening up a bit, “So, you think I’m attractive?” You roll your eyes and close the fridge door, “What did I say about the big head?” You eye him, which finally makes him laugh. You feel immediately relieved that he’s no longer down about what he did.
You’re his best friend; from the moment you two met, it was like peas and carrots. You’ve always complimented each other well, which inevitably lead to people asking the same old question: are you dating? The answer was, of course, always a big, fat, disgusted NO. His feelings for you have always been platonic…mostly. There have definitely been moments when his hormones weren’t always in accord with his mind, so sure, there’d be stray glances here and there when you weren’t looking— a few wet dreams, a few times when he’d be pleasuring himself and his mind happened to drift to your face…a few times when he let himself finish to that mental image, followed promptly by a feeling of immense guilt and shame once it was all said and done.
“Come on, don’t be lame…tell me the truth,” He says, trying to sound casual and relaxed, but the curiosity is now eating him alive. You groan, “Come on, don’t make me expand.” “Please, Y/n…make me feel better, huh?” “Ugh, fine,” You keep your eyes on the task at hand, pulling open the freezer drawer to keep looking for something to eat, “When you get mad, you look…different. Usually you’re like a golden retriever—” You always call him that; he finds it quite endearing, “but when you get that mad, you’re like a…cane corso or something. It almost feels like you’re even taller and bigger when you’re mad, and in a situation like that, it makes a woman feel protected, you know? And there’s nothing hotter than knowing a man can beat up another man— if he needs to, of course.” Your voice strains a bit as you bend down to grab the box of frozen pizza you’d bought last week.
He doesn’t mean to, but when you bend down, he notices how high your shorts ride up. So high, he can see the crease in your ass cheeks; he does not look away. You’re oblivious, of course, trying your best to ignore the memory replaying in your head of him losing control. “So you find me…hot?” He asks, his tone is teasing, but underneath is a genuine desire to know. You keep your back to him as you open the box on the counter, “No.” He snorts at how clearly dishonest you’re being, and starts walking up behind you. “Liar.”
You hear him getting closer, but you remain focused on the task at hand, assuming he’ll just come up to stand next to you. “You wish I was lying—” You turn around unexpectedly, and see he’s right behind you. For a second, the both of you are frozen, looking at one another. You can hear your heartbeat in your ears. After a moment, you look down, "How's your hand?" Your voice is soft-- much softer than usual. He looks down as well, bringing his hand up to examine his knuckles. Funny...it didn't even hurt until just now that you mentioned it. He remains silent as you take his hand and bring it closer to examine it properly. Red and already bruising. He's not nearly as interested in his hand as he is in you. He's so focused on you, he can hardly spare a thought as to why in the world his heart is fluttering at your touch. Never in your entire decade plus of friendship has he ever felt the way he does right now.
"Let me get you some ice," You say, intent on leading him back to the freezer drawer, but he maneuvers his hand to gently grab onto your wrist, "Wait." You stop in your tracks, turning to look at him again. His eyes are so low, and the way he's looking at you...why is it making your knees weak? "Give me back my hoodie." You're stunned for a beat or two, then you slowly blink, "Y-your hoodie?" "Mhm." "Now?" You ask, a slightly annoyed edge to your voice. He nods, his expression unwavering. You furrow your brows, "No." "Take it off." "No." "No?" "No." With that, he's suddenly grabbing the hem of the hoodie and immediately pulling upwards. "I'm not taking it off!" You protest, flailing your arms, but it's not use-- he manages to yank it off of your body so easily, leaving you in just the tank top you'd originally been wearing before you'd gone to get burgers. "Yunho, you asshole. You could've waited--" Before you can register what he's doing, he's bending down and picking you up, his arms wrapping around your thighs, just under your ass as he suddenly places you on the counter with a gentle thud.
Your mouth hangs open as you stare at him; he doesn’t move another muscle— just stands there, eye-level with you now. His eyes shift back and forth with yours, but it’s clear he’s waiting for you to do something— anything. “You wanted it off,” You say, glancing down at his lips then back up at his eyes, “It’s off. Now what?” “What do you mean?” He asks. “Oh…so you’re gonna pussy foot around this too now?” Your taunt, furrowing your brows. You’re trying to get a rise out of him, and judging by the flame flickering in his obsidian pupils, you can tell it’s working. “You think I’m pussyfooting around?” He asks. “Aren’t you?” You lean forward slightly, “You already yanked off a piece of my clothing and put me on this counter…and yet,” You shrug, “I remain completely untouched.” Your own heart is pounding, but you pretend to be completely unbothered.
His lip twitches as he takes in your words. All these years, is this what you really thought of him? “You know,” He says in a dangerously low tone, “You really talk too fucking much.” He smashes his lips onto yours, his mouth parting as he makes space for you. Instantly, your hands are clutching at his hoodie, wasting no time as you start to pull upward. He can hardly even contain his excitement as he feels your hands on his bare sides, feeling him under his shirt. “So you do find me hot,” He says between kisses. “Shut up.” Finally, his torso is exposed to your hungry eyes, and you pull from his mouth to move to his neck. His long neck is one of his best features; on more than one occasion, you have wondered what it would be like to sink your teeth into that soft flesh. You may have even thought about it more than he has.
He tries not to lose himself too much, but it’s hard not to when you’re sucking at his sensitive skin. When you were teenagers, he’d often notice you walking around with hickeys on your chest and neck, hardly hidden behind makeup. He’d wonder sometimes how that would feel, as he often got no play because, frankly, you’re right; he does tend to pussyfoot around things. Of course as an adult, he’s fucked his fair share of girls, but really— this is the most excited he’s felt in a long, long time. Who’d have thought his most exciting bang would be with his best friend?
The strap of your tank top slides off your shoulder on its own, due to all the movement— he looks down at your bare skin and leans in to lick. You moan involuntarily at the feeling of his tongue, and that alone gives him goosebumps; to hear you make those sounds from something so small as his tongue… He pulls at your tank top, though he doesn’t bother to take it all off. He simply shoves it up to just above your boobs, and then he sees that measly little bralette you’re wearing. No wonder you wanted his hoodie; it’d be the only way to cover those pretty nipples in the cold. You feel a surge of wetness between your legs as he looks at your barely clothed breasts. He’s not hesitating; he’s admiring. “Have you always been this beautiful?” He asks, and it makes your blush. He’s never called you that before.
He notices you get shy at his compliment, and it makes him smile, “What? Did that actually make you blush?” “Shut up,” You say again, at a loss for any actual words. “Shut me up.” He challenges. You raise a brow at him, feeling emboldened by his bratty attitude. You want me to shut you up? Fine. You grab the hem of your bralette and pull it up and over your head, along with your tank top- leaving you bare from the waist up. His eyes widen as he takes in your naked form. Your boobs. Your actual boobs. His brain short circuits and you smile triumphantly at him, “Guess it worked.” He blinks a few times, regaining his composure, then instantly leans down to captured one of your pert nipples into his hungry mouth. “Shit,” You swear as you look down at him. He lets his tongue swirl over it, his mouth accidentally making a sucking noise.
You can’t take it anymore; you’re desperate for more than this, no matter how hot it is. “Fuck me, Yunho.” The words come so easily, despite how shy you were only a moment ago. It catches him by surprise and makes him immediately want to ravage you. He kisses you again, this time, his hands ravenously hooking around the waistband of your skimpy little booty shorts, yanking them downward as best he can while you’re sitting on the counter. You wiggle a bit, helping him get you completely nude. Your panties hardly stand a chance against his bruising force. Finally, your bare ass is on the counter— you’ll sanitize later— and he’s shoving his sweats to the floor.
You look down at what he’s working with, and you must admit, it’s quite the view. Heather gray boxer briefs, fitted nicely to his muscular legs— and right there, in all its glory— a wonderfully pronounced bulge, begging to be let out. He watches you watch him, and it makes his cock twitch. “You want it?” He asks, seeking your consent one last time, to which you respond with a breathy, “Yes.” He tugs down at his underwear until it lands at his ankles. He’s so long, you briefly wonder if it’ll even fit all the way in. He pulls you toward him, then reaches down in between your folds to rub at your hardened clit, getting you extra wet— though it’s apparent you hardly need any help with that, considering you’re practically dripping for him. He dips his fingers in and then rubs your slick along his cock. Suddenly, you envy every other girl that’s gotten this gorgeous view before you.
He gets closer, pumping his shaft a few times before teasing your clit with the tip of his cock. Finally, he slips it down from your clit down to your hole, and then inserts himself. Your eyes widen at the sudden fullness as he bottoms out, and he, too, has to take a second to brace himself, as the feeling of your tight heat wrapped around him is almost too much to bear. You feel so much better than he could’ve imagine. Every ridge, every delicious constriction of your hot pussy is a threat to his sanity. “Fuck, Y/n,” He lets out a cracked moan, making you instantly hook your arm around his neck to bring him closer. “Yes, Yunho— oh fuck,” You moan, bouncing slightly as he pumps into you. He rests his forehead against yours as he continues, locking eyes with you, “You’re so fucking tight.” He continues thrusting, each one feeling deeper than the last.
You’ve had enough men to have favorites— and you easily see Yunho knocking number one out of his spot. There’s something that feels so much more raw about fucking your best friend than fucking some guy off an app. Part of it feels forbidden, while the other part feels like nothing could be more right than this. And the best part? The way he pauses in between thrusts to kiss you. You whine at him, your teeth clenched as you hiss, “You’re so big, Yunho…fuck, I can feel you stretching me out.” His heart stutters at your filthy words, and he suddenly scoops you up off the counter to hold you against his waist, his hands planted firmly on your ass cheeks as he drills into you. “Ah, ah, ah, ah!” Your screams fill the apartment, giving his ego the fill it’s been in desperate need of. “Fuck, I’m gonna cum soon,” He breathes. “Yes, yes, cum for me—” You beg, holding tightly to him. He buries his face in your neck, taking in your scent as he feels it—
“Shit, I’m cumming,” He says into your ear, biting down on the lobe just hard enough to make your pussy throb. It all happens so fast, he doesn’t even pull out; just empty his load into your cunt— but he doesn’t stop there. Every last bit of strength on his body, he uses to hold you in place as he continues fucking up into you. “Fuck, I’m close,” You gasp. “Yeah?” His voice is so soft as he feeds into your whines, “Come on. I bet you look so pretty when you cum,” He kisses your lips so passionately, you feel yourself dissolving into him, until finally, your climax finally arrives. “I’m- I’m-” Your brain shuts off completely, giving your body away to the waves of your own orgasm. You don’t even realize you’re fully digging into Yunho’s back, which only serves to shock his sense into bringing on his second nut. “Fuck yes,” He groans, give you three more slams before he’s setting you back on the counter.
He pulls himself out of you swiftly, stepping back just in time to watch his thick, creamy cum fall out of your pussy, delighting in how utterly fucked out you look. “This was way better than burgers,” He says excitedly.
