you kind of wished he had never found out about it. not really, but now it certainly seems he likes to use it as leverage against you.
your boyfriend was gentle in all the ways that count. soft touches that made you feel like precious art. sweet words of encouragement that made you feel seen. but sometimes you feel like he might be too gentle with you.
the only times he ever let that soft-handed mask down were when he was fucking you.
and the first time he ever found out about your little infatuation, he seemed to have grown a little more comfortable with roughing it up a little.
“oh god… oh baby. fuck, you feel so good.” on your stomach, face pressed into the sheets, san’s face nudged in the tight space where your neck meets your shoulder. his arms caged either side of your head, resting his forearms next to your ears.
his chest was glued to your back, your spine digging into his stomach. bare and hot and wet, your bodies pressed against each other without an inch of space to speak for. your entire body shivered when he forced himself deeper into you, his curved, thick cock splitting your cunt open.
this position had him so deep, so invasive, so full. his hips rolled against the flesh of your ass, san’s voice dipping low in needy moans when you squeezed around him while he pulled his hips back, listening to the slick sound your pussy made, trying to keep him inside.
“pussy’s so warm today, baby.” he lets his mouth fall open against the shell of your ear, panting and groaning to make your brain melt. “making me feel so fucking crazy, you make me feel crazy, pretty.”
you forced your head out of the pillow when you felt his thrusts slow to a deep grind, pulling a ragged whine from your mouth. you pried your eyes open to watch as his arms moved around your head.
“turn, look at us.” he kisses below your ear, and drags his tongue up the side of your cheek. his right arm reaches and grabs his phone from the corner of the bed, holding it tight in his hand and scrolling and pressing buttons.
you forget he keeps a tall mirror against his bedroom wall, right next to the end of his bed. you can see the top halves of your melded bodies. his big, broad shoulders shadow your littler form under him. his soft, flushed face meeting your eyes in the reflection, his big, meaty arms flexing and twitching around your head every time he moved.
you watch to try and see what he was doing, and he punishes your nosiness with a sharp, deep thrust that makes your calf lock up.
“mind your business, babydoll.” he grumbles, then you feel it. his left arm curls around the front of your throat, tight. the muscles twitch and contract over your neck, just enough to limit your breathing. snug, warm and secure around the front of your throat.
he feels you tighten around his cock, and it makes his skin prickle. “ooh, fuck…” he groans and you feel his voice vibrate against your back. you forced your eyes up and you can see his phone recording your reflection in the mirror. catching the fucked out look on your face, his thick arm wrapped around your throat in an owning headlock.
his mouth spreads into a sly grin when your eyes roll when he pulls back his hips and then sinks his cock back into you so slowly, so smoothly, your legs jerk under him to try and escape the feeling.
“my soft little slut…” san leans down to whisper in your ear, the flash of his camera moving with each thrust. he licks the tears that pool at the corner of your eyes before he drags his head back up to watch you both in the mirror.
“look at you go, baby.” he praises around a heated smile. “drooling all over my arm like some kind of puppy. does that feel good? hm?”
you whimper out an incoherent agreement, and he giggles softly, littering the nape of your neck with soft kisses. he adjusts his hips to drag against that deeper, sweeter spot, that makes you still and lightly sink your teeth into his arm.
he keeps that meaner pace, deep heavy strokes in your guts that you can do nothing but lie under his body and take. his arm around your neck made clouds swim around in your brain. he tightens the hold, and you squeal loudly, barely catching the way he zooms in with his phone to better catch the pretty look on your face.
your cheeks squished by his muscles, your eyes desperate and heavy-lidded. he thought you looked so cute, and who would’ve thought that all he had to do to get you this needy was to put you in a headlock.
san fucks you greedily, the curve of him perfectly hitting that spot that turned your mind off. his voice egged you on, his low moans, and his pretty heavy breaths. groaning ’mhms’ of approval with every thrust into you as if he was grading the feel of your cunt around him. with every stroke, you only seemed to get even wetter, and the proof was the sticky web of your slick that clung to his base.
“mm, i love fucking my baby, slow… and stupid.” he attaches his lips to the pulse point on your neck, sucking and running his tongue over the sensitive spot of skin. “jus wanna fuck you so deep it hurts.”
he’s in your ear, talking to you and only you. all the while his phone catches every moment, every thrust and every moan.
his lower stomach repeatedly brushes against your back, his cock stirring up your insides at the most, torturous and delicate pace. the slow smack of flesh, the sticky hollow sound of your cunt swallowing all of him.
you feel his knees brace against either side of your hips again, adjusting his posture a little. his arm around your throat tightens to your near limit, his head nudges against your neck, his lips whispering against your cheek.
this way he uses your neck as leverage to anchor is body to allow him to fuck his cock into you a little faster, a little rougher.
“yeah, baby, yeah. take all of me. all of me.” san’s voice drops into a breathy purr, pressing his lips directly against your ear, the soft skin tickling you. “givin this pussy a workout hm?”
you groan and kick your feet, and he laughs at you as hand from the arm he’s got your neck trapped in buries itself in your tangled hair and yanks your head to the side so you’re fully facing the mirror, your ear resting below his jaw.
“you like to be lazy. you like to lie here— fuck… lie here and take dick, helpless and limp. let sannie do all the work huh, princess? let this pussy do all the work for you?”
he turns his head and your eyes catch in the mirror. his eyes are lidded, competent and heated. yours are foggy, tear-glazed, spent. he smiles at your expression and growls under his breath when you clench around his dick again.
his fingers scrape against your scalp with every heavy stroke of his hips, his pretty grunts and moans making your belly twist into swirls.
your hands grasp at the sheets, your cries coming out choked and breathy then more san fucked you, and he seemingly forgot that you needed to breathe until you tapped on his bicep to tell him to let up.
he does immediately, loosening the hold on your throat. you gasp and choke, but he doesn’t stop moving his hips, fucking you slow and deep while you regain your breath.
“aww, ‘m sorry babydoll.” he kisses your temple and you could feel him giggle against your skin. his voice lowers to that brain ticking whisper and you feel your air stolen from you again.
“bet you would’ve looked so pretty passed out on my cock.” he finally sets down his phone and takes his now free hand and trails it down your body, running along the side of your waist, his hips never stopping that deep, languid push and pull.
“looking all soft and sleepy.” his hand snakes between your body and the bed and finds your clit with his coarse fingertips. you gasp and squirm under him, your body shaking as a plea for mercy. san only laughs, circling upwards against the sensitive nerves while he splits your pussy open, over and over and over again.
“think i could still make you cum in your sleep princess?” he whispers against your throat and you feel as his arm tightens its hold around your throat once again. you feel the bed start to shake and your cunt start to burn with pleasure as he picks up the pace of his thrusts, filling you long and deep at just the right angle.
“mmhm, soak my cock baby.” he growls under a moan, letting his tongue fall from his mouth and tasting the flushed skin on your throat. “make it smell like you.”
he bites his bottom lip and his eyebrows furrow, his cock pounding into you so full he just might had been close to fucking your cervix.
his fingers on your clit continue to move at that dragging, spherical pattern that helps that pressure build slowly. stroke my stroke, praise by praise. you melt under his body while he uses you as he sees fit. your pussy sucks him in everytime he draws back, your pretty little moans make san’s head spin.
“gonna fuck myself to that video everynight while im on tour.” he promises against your skin, your orgasm dangerously close to sweeping you onto the floor. he rolls his hips with every thrust, forcing his fat tip to press against your gspot.
“eee..every n-night..?” you whimper deliriously, his cock effectively having cut off all cognitive function, a stupid smile spread across your face.
he laughs and kisses your shoulder as he rolls his hips a little harder. “mhm, every night baby. i'll send you some videos so this pussy-” he thrusts hard this time, as if acknowledging her himself. “-doesn't miss me too much. want you to remember how good i make you feel while i'm gone.”
you shake violently when his tip nudges that spot just right, and right at that moment you cum on the spot. your limbs jerk and twitch and once san’s felt you cumming he eases his hips into a faster rut, pounding your pussy through your orgasm, fucking you through it.
“there we go, there we go. let it take you baby, keep cumming, keep cumming for me.” he pinches your clit and teases it with gentle brushes while he mounts you on his mattress.
his arm is covered in your drool, the red indentations of your bite marks inflamed on his skin. san looks back at you in the mirror, and you’re too out of it to notice as he pulls out his phone again and starts to record the reflection.
your eyes are shut and your brows are furrowed in bliss, lips parted in pathetic whines, your cheek resting against his bicep. he keeps his eyes on the mirror as your face twists in overstimulation when he starts to grind his cock deep into you.
his muscles flex, and he can feel the strain in his wrist from continually holding the camera up to capture you two. your shoulder twitches every time he bottoms out into your pussy, and your eyelids flutter every time he presses his palm against your lower stomach. he catches every change in expression, every twitch of your body, every lilt in your moans.
he always misses you so bad when hes away, so he always makes sure he fucks you so unbelievably well that you could probably do without him for at least a few days.
until you’re sore, or your stomach burns, or you physically can’t cum anymore. and he’ll be so methodic, so thorough, so gentle. anything to get you satiated for the first few days in his absence.
he's gotta work you out of his system somehow anyway, or else he'll be a horny, delirious wreck on tour.
I hope this is half as good as you were expecting. Feel free to tag Yunho in the comments (I wish he could see everything I do), and thank you so much for all the love and support. I’m speechless, and often I don’t know how to thank you 🩵
pairing : ice hockey player! san x ice skater! fem! reader
synopsis : A figure skater and a hockey player clash when they’re forced to share the same rink, but their rivalry slowly melts into something more.
genre : slice of life, fluff, enemies-to-lovers, rivalry, sports au, little angst, comfort, slow-burn, romance
warnings : none
author’s note : a san fic for yall 😘 i realised i wrote 3 enemies to lovers fic back to back lmao 😆 and i haven’t written pure angst in a loooooooooong time sooooo maybe ill write that for the next fic 🙏
word count : 5k
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The rink is quiet when you arrive.
It always is at this hour—6:12 a.m., when the sky outside is still pale and sleepy and the world hasn’t fully woken up yet.
The fluorescent lights hum softly above the ice, casting a cool glow across the empty arena.
This is your favorite time to skate.
No noise. No distractions.
No hockey players carving the ice to pieces.
Just you.
You step onto the rink carefully, the blades of your skates kissing the ice with a crisp, familiar sound. The chill rises through the thin soles of your boots, settling comfortably into your bones.
It feels like home.
You start with simple edges first, gliding slowly along the rink’s curve. Your muscles wake up gradually, remembering the rhythm your body has repeated thousands of times before.
Push. Glide. Turn.
Your breath fogs the cold air.
Today is one of the many important oractice days.
Regionals are only two weeks away, and your triple axel still isn’t landing the way you want it to.
The rotation is there, but the landing keeps slipping just slightly off-center.
You can fix it. You know you can.
You gather speed across the rink, arms pulling inward as you prepare for the jump—
And then the doors slam open.
The peaceful silence shatters instantly.
Loud voices echo through the arena, followed by the unmistakable clatter of hockey sticks and gear bags hitting the benches.
Your stomach drops.
No.
No, no, no.
They’re not supposed to be here yet.
“Morning!” someone shouts.
You turn sharply toward the entrance, irritation already bubbling in your chest as the entire hockey team spills into the rink area like a storm.
Laughter. Shouting.
Heavy skates stomping against the floor.
And at the center of it all—
San.
You recognize him immediately.
He’s hard not to notice.
Tall, broad-shouldered, messy dark hair slightly damp like he just showered. His hockey jersey hangs loosely over his frame, sleeves pushed up as he casually twirls his stick in one hand.
He looks relaxed. Comfortable.
Like he owns the place.
Your jaw tightens.
San glances up toward the ice—and spots you.
For a moment, his expression flickers with mild surprise.
Then his lips curl into the faintest smirk.
“Didn’t know the rink was hosting ballet practice this early.”
Your eye twitches.
You push yourself toward the barrier, stopping just short of the boards as the team starts stepping onto the ice.
“Your practice isn’t for another hour,” you say sharply.
San tilts his head slightly.
His expression doesn’t look cocky the way most hockey players do.
Instead, he studies you quietly, almost curiously.
“Coach moved it earlier,” he replies.
“That’s not my problem.”
Your gaze drops to the skates hitting the ice behind him, already scratching deep grooves across the surface you just smoothed.
“You’re ruining the ice.”
A few of the players snicker.
San sighs softly, running a hand through his hair.
“You say that every time.”
“Because it’s true.”
Your voice sharpens.
“You guys tear it up and then expect figure skaters to practice on what’s basically frozen gravel.”
San taps the tip of his hockey stick lightly against the ice.
“You could always share.”
You stare at him.
Share?
“With you hockey players?” you repeat incredulously.
“You slam each other into walls,” you continue. “You skate like you’re trying to destroy the rink.”
San blinks.
Then he quietly says, “That’s… kind of the sport.”
A few of his teammates laugh.
Your cheeks heat with irritation.
“I have a competition,” you snap. “I can’t practice jumps on broken ice.”
San’s gaze shifts briefly to the center of the rink where you’d been skating earlier.
His eyes linger there for a moment.
Then he says something that surprises you.
“Show me.”
You frown.
“What?”
“The jump,” he clarifies. “The one you were working on.”
Your suspicion spikes immediately.
“Why?”
He shrugs.
“Curious.”
You narrow your eyes.
San doesn’t look like he’s mocking you.
If anything, he looks… genuinely interested.
Still.
You push yourself back toward the center of the rink.
“Watch carefully,” you mutter.
You pick up speed, heart pounding slightly as you prepare.
Your blade digs into the ice—
Takeoff. Rotation. Landing.
Your foot slips.
You barely catch yourself before falling, arms flailing slightly as you regain balance.
Behind you, the hockey players erupt into laughter.
Embarrassment burns through your chest.
You whip around toward them.
San isn’t laughing.
In fact, he looks slightly concerned.
“You okay?” he asks.
The question only makes you more irritated.
“Of course I’m okay.”
You glare at the ice beneath your skates.
The landing edge is rough.
Scratched. Destroyed.
You look back at him.
“This,” you say sharply, pointing to the ice, “is why I hate hockey players.”
San exhales slowly.
Then he glides toward you.
He stops a few feet away, leaning lightly against his stick.
“You’re blaming us for a bad landing.”
“You ruined the ice.”
“You messed up the jump.”
Your eyes narrow.
San’s voice remains calm.
“You know,” he adds quietly, “you hesitated on the takeoff.”
You blink.
“What?”
“Your shoulder dropped,” he says. “Right before you jumped.”
Your irritation falters slightly.
“You’re a hockey player.”
“Yeah.”
“So why are you analyzing my jump?”
San shrugs.
“I watch sometimes.”
The words catch you off guard.
“Why?”
He gestures vaguely toward the rink.
“You’re here every morning.”
You stare at him.
“So are you,” you point out.
He smiles faintly.
“Guess we’re both obsessed with ice.”
Your heart stutters for some reason you can’t explain.
You quickly push the feeling away.
“Stay on your side of the rink,” you mutter.
San raises his hands in surrender.
“Yes, ma’am.”
But as he skates away—
You can feel his eyes lingering on you.
And somehow…
That bothers you even more than the ruined ice.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
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The rivalry becomes routine.
You don’t remember exactly when it starts feeling like a pattern, but somehow every morning practice now includes the same sequence of events.
You arrive early. You warm up.
And then the hockey team storms in like a pack of loud, chaotic wolves.
Right on schedule.
You’re mid-spin one morning when the doors slam open again.
Voices echo across the rink.
“Morning, princess!”
You don’t even have to look to know who said it.
You glide to a stop slowly before turning toward the boards where San is leaning casually, already dressed in his gear.
Your eye twitches.
“Call me that again,” you say coolly, “and I’ll sharpen my blades on your skates.”
San tilts his head thoughtfully.
“Is that a threat?”
“It’s a promise.”
A few of the other players laugh.
San pushes himself onto the ice, gliding effortlessly across the surface until he’s only a few feet away from you.
You hate how smooth hockey players skate.
It’s messy compared to figure skating, sure—but San moves with surprising control.
He taps his stick lightly against the ice.
“So,” he says, voice casual, “did you fix the hesitation?”
You fold your arms.
“What hesitation?”
“The one before your jump yesterday.”
Your irritation spikes immediately.
“You’re still talking about that?”
“You fell.”
Your glare sharpens.
“You want to test your luck today?”
San smiles faintly.
“Depends.”
“On what?”
“If you’re planning to threaten me again.”
Before you can respond, one of his teammates shouts from across the rink.
“San! Stop flirting and get over here!”
Your face heats instantly.
“He’s not flirting,” you snap.
San looks mildly offended.
“Wow.”
“You’re literally the most annoying person I’ve ever met.”
“That hurts.”
“It should.”
He pushes himself backward, skating away toward his team.
But just before he turns fully, he glances back.
And there’s something strange in his expression.
Something other than teasing.
You ignore it.
The rink manager eventually gets tired of the constant complaints.
Which is how you end up in the worst situation imaginable.
Late evenings. Shared practices.
One side of the rink for figure skating.
The other side for hockey drills.
You stare at the printed schedule taped to the office wall.
“This is ridiculous.”
The manager sighs.
“It’s temporary.”
“You’re sabotaging me.”
“They also need ice time.”
“They destroy the ice.”
“They said the same thing about you.”
You spin around.
“They what?”
“They claim your toe picks chip the surface.”
You stare at him like he’s personally betrayed you.
Toe picks chipping the ice?
That’s absurd.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
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The first shared practice is chaos.
You’re stretching beside the rink when the hockey team arrives.
San notices you immediately.
Of course he does.
His eyebrows lift slightly.
“Well,” he murmurs.
“This should be fun.”
You step onto the ice without responding.
You refuse to give him the satisfaction.
Music begins playing softly from your phone speaker near the boards as you glide across the rink, warming up.
Edges. Turns.
Speed building gradually.
Across the rink, the hockey players start drills.
Pucks slap against sticks.
Skates carve deep lines into the ice.
The noise alone is enough to irritate you.
You push harder into your practice.
Faster. Sharper. Cleaner.
Out of the corner of your eye, you notice San watching.
He’s supposed to be running drills with his team.
Instead, he’s leaning against the boards.
Observing.
You ignore him.
You prepare for your triple axel.
Push. Edge.
Jump—
You land it.
Clean. Perfect.
Your heart lifts slightly in satisfaction.
Across the rink, someone whistles.
“Okay,” a voice calls.
“That was kinda cool.”
You look over.
San is clapping slowly.
Almost… impressed.
Your irritation immediately returns.
“Focus on your own sport,” you call.
San raises his hands.
“Relax.”
“You’re distracting me.”
“You’re the one yelling across the rink.”
“You started it.”
He skates toward the center line separating the two practice areas.
You follow instinctively.
Neither of you realize how close you’ve gotten until you’re only a few feet apart.
San leans lightly on his stick.
“You’re competitive,” he says.
“You’re annoying.”
“Those aren’t mutually exclusive.”
You scoff.
“You hockey players think you own the ice.”
“And you figure skaters act like it’s sacred ground.”
“It is sacred.”
San laughs quietly.
“You’re unbelievable.”
“And you’re reckless.”
He gestures toward the ice beneath you.
“You jump into the air and spin three times on a knife blade.”
“That’s skill.”
“That’s terrifying.”
You hesitate slightly.
San tilts his head.
“Teach me.”
You blink.
“What?”
“One spin,” he says.
“Just one.”
“You’ll fall.”
“Probably.”
You stare at him for a long moment.
Then, despite your better judgment—
“Fine.”
You skate backward slightly, gesturing for him to move closer.
San sets his stick aside and glides toward you.
He looks strangely focused.
“Okay,” you say.
“Pull your arms in like this.”
You demonstrate slowly.
San mimics the position.
Badly.
“Your posture is terrible.”
“Be nice.”
“I’m being honest.”
You push gently on his shoulder to adjust his stance.
Your hands pause briefly against him.
His hockey gear is solid beneath your palms.
San freezes slightly.
Then you step back.
“Now spin.”
He tries.
It’s awful.
San rotates halfway before immediately losing balance.
He nearly crashes into you.
You jump back just in time.
“Oh my god,” you say.
“You’re hopeless.”
San laughs breathlessly.
“Your turn.”
“What?”
“Hockey stop.”
You narrow your eyes.
“Absolutely not.”
“Afraid?”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Prove it.”
You hesitate.
Then you sigh dramatically.
“Fine.”
San’s grin widens as he demonstrates.
“Build speed,” he says.
“Then turn sharply like this.”
You attempt it.
The result is catastrophic.
Your blades scrape loudly against the ice as you skid sideways.
Snow sprays everywhere.
You nearly fall.
San catches your arm instinctively.
For a moment—
You’re both frozen.
Your hand is gripping his sleeve. His hand is wrapped around your wrist.
Your faces are much closer than either of you expected.
Your heartbeat stutters.
San looks… startled.
Like he didn’t mean to hold you this long.
You pull your arm away quickly.
“That was stupid.”
“You almost did it.”
“I almost died.”
San laughs softly.
But when you skate away—
You can still feel the warmth of his hand lingering on your wrist.
But the rivalry doesn’t disappear after that.
If anything…
It gets worse.
Because now you’re both determined to prove something.
You land jumps perfectly just to show off.
San performs ridiculous hockey tricks across the rink.
You ignore each other.
You glare. You argue.
But sometimes—
You catch him watching you practice.
And sometimes—
You find yourself watching him during drills.
And neither of you mention it.
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The night everything changes starts like every other shared practice.
Cold rink air. Scraped ice.
And San being insufferable.
You’re tying your skates on the bench when the hockey team arrives, loud as always.
Gear thuds against the floor. Someone is arguing about stick tape.
You roll your eyes.
Then you hear San’s voice.
“Careful.”
You look up.
He’s standing a few feet away, already watching you.
“What?” you say flatly.
“You’re tying those too tight.”
Your hands pause mid-knot.
“Excuse me?”
“Your skates,” he repeats calmly.
“You always pull the laces too tight around the ankle.”
You stare at him.
“You’ve been watching my laces?”
San blinks like he’s realizing how strange that sounds.
“I just notice things.”
“Well stop noticing.”
“Okay.”
But he still watches you.
You sigh and step onto the ice.
Across the rink, the hockey team begins their drills.
Pucks slam against the boards. Skates cut sharp lines through the ice.
You try to ignore them as you warm up.
Edges first. Then spins.
Your body feels slightly off tonight.
Tired. Maybe you’re sick.
But you can’t afford to skip practice. Regionals are only days away.
You gather speed.
The triple axel.
You’ve been landing it consistently all week.
Your blade digs into the ice—
Takeoff. Rotation.
Landing—
Your edge catches.
Everything happens too fast.
Your blade slips sideways and suddenly the world tilts violently beneath you.
The impact is brutal.
Your hip slams against the ice.
Pain shoots through your leg instantly.
For a moment, the entire rink goes silent.
You hear the echo of your fall long before you feel the embarrassment.
Your breath leaves your lungs in a sharp gasp.
Across the rink, a hockey puck clatters to the ground.
“Hey—”
Skates scrape across the ice.
You try to push yourself up. Pain flares through your ankle.
You freeze.
Oh no.
“Don’t move.”
San’s voice is suddenly right beside you.
You hadn’t even seen him cross the rink.
He kneels carefully next to you, hockey gloves already off.
“What happened?”
“I’m fine,” you mutter automatically.
You try standing. Your ankle protests violently.
You wince.
San’s expression tightens.
“Yeah,” he says softly.
“That doesn’t look fine.”
The rest of the hockey team gathers near the boards, watching.
You hate this. You hate being seen like this.
“Just help me up,” you say quietly.
San slides one arm carefully around your back.
“Put your weight on me.”
You hesitate.
Then reluctantly lean against him.
He feels warm. Solid.
You hate noticing that.
You push yourself upright slowly.
The moment your injured foot touches the ice—
Pain flashes through your leg.
You suck in a breath sharply.
San immediately tightens his grip.
“Okay,” he murmurs.
“Not happening.”
“I can skate,” you insist.
“You can barely stand.”
“I said I’m fine.”
San looks at you for a long moment.
Then he sighs.
“You’re stubborn.”
“And you’re annoying.”
“Probably.”
Before you can protest—
San lifts you.
Completely off the ice.
Your brain short-circuits.
“What do you think you’re doing?”
“Preventing you from making it worse.”
“I can walk!”
“You just proved you can’t.”
You glance toward the hockey team.
Several of them are grinning.
One whistles.
Your face burns.
“Put me down!”
San ignores you and carefully steps off the ice. He sets you gently on the bench.
Your ankle throbs angrily.
San kneels in front of you, examining it carefully.
“Does this hurt?”
He presses lightly along the joint.
You flinch.
“Yeah.”
“Okay.”
He presses somewhere else.
You wince again.
San exhales slowly.
“You should get that checked.”
“It’s just a sprain.”
“You don’t know that.”
“I know my body.”
San looks up at you.
His expression isn’t teasing anymore.
It’s filled with worry.
He’s actually worried.
“You have a competition,” he says quietly.
“I know.”
“Then stop pretending you’re invincible.”
You don’t respond. Because part of you knows he’s right.
The rink slowly empties as practice ends.
Players leave. Lights dim slightly.
Eventually it’s just the two of you left.
San sits beside you on the bench. Neither of you speak for a while.
Finally, he says softly—
“You push yourself too hard.”
You scoff.
“You literally play hockey.”
“Yeah.”
“And you slam into people for fun.”
“Not fun.”
You glance at him.
San stares out at the empty rink.
“It’s just… easier to ignore the pain when you’re moving fast.”
You blink slightly.
That’s… unexpectedly honest.
The silence stretches again.
Then San stands.
“Wait here.”
“Where are you going?”
“Don’t move.”
“You can’t just tell me—”
He disappears into the hallway. You sigh.
Five minutes later, he returns.
With an ice pack.
You stare at him.
“Seriously?”
San shrugs.
“Basic first aid.”
He hands it to you.
Your fingers brush briefly.
The contact is small. But strangely warm.
You place the ice against your ankle.
The cold bites immediately.
San watches carefully.
“You scared me earlier,” he admits quietly.
Your head lifts.
“What?”
“When you fell.”
Your chest tightens slightly.
“You skated across the rink pretty fast.”
San rubs the back of his neck.
“Instinct.”
You look at him for a long moment.
The rivalry suddenly feels… different. Softer somehow.
Then you say the only thing you can think of.
“You’re still terrible at spinning.”
San laughs.
And somehow its the nicest sound you’ve heard all week.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Your ankle heals.
Mostly.
Not completely, but enough that you can skate again after a few days of forced rest.
You hate resting. You hate sitting still even more.
And somehow—
During those few days you weren’t at the rink…
You heard something strange from the other hockey players.
San kept checking the entrance. Every practice. Every time the doors opened.
Even though you weren’t there.
When you finally return, the rink smells the same as always—cold air, sharpened blades, faint rubber from hockey pucks.
You step onto the ice slowly. Testing your ankle.
It holds.
Good.
Across the rink, the hockey team is already practicing.
The moment San notices you—
He stops skating. His entire posture shifts.
You pretend not to see it.
You start warming up like normal.
Edges. Turns. Simple spins.
But you can feel it.
His eyes on you.
Watching. Again.
After a few minutes, he finally skates toward you.
“You’re back.”
You shrug casually.
“I live here.”
“Your ankle?”
“Fine.”
“Let me see.”
You glare at him.
“You’re not my doctor.”
“I just want to make sure you’re not about to collapse again.”
You cross your arms.
“You’re very dramatic.”
“You literally couldn’t stand.”
“That was days ago.”
San studies you carefully. Like he’s trying to read something you’re not saying.
Then he sighs.
“Okay.”
“Okay what?”
“Okay… I’ll trust you.”
You skate past him.
“Good.”
Later that evening, something unexpected happens.
Another figure skater shows up.
A guy.
Tall. Confident. Clearly experienced.
He steps onto the ice beside you.
“You practicing for regionals too?”
You nod.
“Yeah.”
“I’m Sunghoon.”
You introduce yourself politely.
Across the rink—
San notices.
You see it immediately.
His skating slows. His attention shifts completely.
Sunghoon glides beside you easily.
“You’ve got good rotation on your loop.”
“Thanks.”
“You want help with the entry?”
You hesitate.
Then nod.
“Sure.”
He demonstrates smoothly.
It’s helpful. Actually helpful.
Across the rink, San slams into the boards during a drill.
Hard.
One of his teammates laughs.
“You good?”
“Yeah,” San mutters.
But his gaze is still locked on you.
Sunghoon lightly takes your hands to guide the movement.
“Try it like this.”
But before you can respond, a hockey puck suddenly slides between you.
Fast.
It smacks the ice right beside your skate.
You both jump slightly.
Sunghoon frowns.
“What the—”
You look up.
San is skating toward you, his expression unreadable.
“Sorry,” he says flatly, “that puck got away from me.”
Sunghoon crosses his arms.
“Maybe control it better.”
San’s eyes flicker toward him.
There’s something sharp in his expression now.
You immediately recognize it.
Oh.
He’s jealous.
The realization hits you like a small shock.
San turns to you.
“You should watch where you’re standing.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“You shot it at me.”
“I didn’t.”
“You absolutely did.”
Sunghoon steps slightly closer to you.
San notices. His jaw tightens.
“Practice is over here,” San mutters to him.
Sunghoon shrugs.
“I’m not on your team.”
You almost laugh.
San exhales slowly like he’s forcing himself to stay calm. Then he turns away.
But his skating for the rest of practice is aggressive.
Hard. Faster than usual.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Later that night, the rink empties again.
Everyone leaves. Except you.
And San.
You’re practicing your jump again.
The triple axel.
Takeoff. Rotation.
Landing—
Clean.
You smile slightly.
Behind you, someone claps.
You don’t even need to turn around.
“Were you spying on me again?”
San leans against the boards.
“Observing.”
“You’re creepy.”
“You’re dramatic.”
You skate toward him slowly.
“Why were you trying to take out my head with a puck earlier?”
“I wasn’t.”
“You were jealous.”
San blinks.
“I was not.”
“You were.”
“I don’t care who you practice with.”
You lean closer.
“Then why did you almost start a hockey fight?”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
San groans softly.
“You’re impossible.”
“You’re jealous.”
“I’m not.”
You tilt your head.
“Say it again.”
“I’m not jealous.”
Your lips twitch.
San notices.
And something in his expression shifts. His voice drops slightly.
“You think that’s funny?”
“Maybe.”
“Why?”
“Because you were clearly bothered.”
San pushes away from the boards slowly.
He skates closer. Closer.
Until he’s standing right in front of you.
The air suddenly feels different.
Quieter.
“You like making me jealous?” he asks softly.
Your heartbeat stutters.
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re smiling.”
Your breath catches slightly.
“You’re standing really close.”
“You didn’t move.”
Neither of you say anything for a moment.
The rink lights hum quietly above you. Your blades scrape faintly against the ice.
San’s voice lowers again.
“You’re going to do great at regionals.”
The sincerity in his voice surprises you.
“You think so?”
“I know so.”
Your chest tightens unexpectedly.
San hesitates slightly. Like he wants to say something else.
Instead he just murmurs—
“Just don’t get hurt again.”
Your heart skips.
And suddenly the rivalry doesn’t feel like rivalry anymore.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
Regionals arrive faster than you expect.
The rink looks different tonight.
Brighter. Louder.
Crowded with spectators filling the stands, voices echoing through the arena in a low constant hum. The ice has been freshly resurfaced, smooth and flawless beneath the lights.
Your stomach twists nervously as you lace up your skates in the locker room.
This is it.
Months of practice. Early mornings. Late nights.
All leading here.
You tighten the last knot on your skates and stand slowly.
Your ankle feels fine.
But your nerves are another story entirely.
You step into the hallway that leads toward the rink entrance—and nearly collide with someone.
San.
You both stop abruptly.
For a moment neither of you speak.
He’s dressed in his hockey uniform, helmet tucked under his arm. His hair is slightly messy like he rushed to get ready.
“Hey,” he says softly.
“Hey.”
You didn’t expect to see him here.
“I thought your game was tonight.”
“It is.”
“You should be warming up.”
“I was.”
The way he says it makes you suspicious.
“San.”
“What?”
“You came to watch my performance.”
He shrugs like it’s no big deal.
“I had ten minutes.”
Your heart does something strange in your chest.
“You didn’t have to.”
“I wanted to.”
Silence settles between you for a moment.
Then San glances toward the rink entrance.
“You’re up soon.”
“Yeah.”
“You nervous?”
You hesitate.
“Terrified.”
San nods thoughtfully.
“That’s normal.”
“Easy for you to say. Hockey players just… slam into each other.”
“Not exactly comforting.”
You laugh quietly.
San shifts slightly, then reaches out. He crouches down in front of you.
Your brain freezes.
“What are you doing?”
“You tied these wrong again.”
He gently adjusts the laces of your skate, tightening them slightly around the ankle.
The movement is careful. Familiar.
You can feel your heart beat faster.
“You really notice everything, don’t you?” you murmur.
San finishes tying the knot and stands.
“Only with you.”
The words land heavier than he probably intended.
You stare at him.
San suddenly looks a little flustered.
“Uh—good luck,” he adds quickly.
“You too.”
He nods once before jogging down the hallway toward the hockey arena entrance.
You watch him go.
And your chest feels strangely warm.
Minutes later, you step onto the ice.
The crowd quiets, and the music begins.
Your entire world narrows to the rink beneath your skates.
You glide forward.
Every movement feels sharper tonight.
More focused. More deliberate.
Your routine flows smoothly.
Spins. Steps. Transitions.
Then the jump approaches.
The triple axel. The one that haunted your practices for weeks.
You gather speed.
Your blade digs into the ice—
Takeoff.
Rotation. Rotation. Rotation.
Landing. Clean.
The crowd erupts into applause.
Relief floods your chest as you continue the rest of your program, finishing with your final spin.
When the music ends—
The applause grows louder.
You bow breathlessly, heart racing.
For the first time in weeks, you feel proud.
Really proud.
Across campus, the hockey arena is roaring.
San’s game is intense.
Fast. Aggressive.
The scoreboard shows a tie late in the third period.
San skates harder than usual tonight.
His teammates notice.
“You good?” one of them asks during a quick break.
“Yeah.”
But his thoughts keep drifting.
Back to the other rink. Back to you.
He checks the clock.
Your competition should be ending right about now.
San exhales sharply.
Then he skates back onto the ice.
The puck drops. Thirty seconds later, San steals it.
He speeds down the rink, dodging two defenders before shooting.
The puck slams into the net.
Goal.
The arena explodes.
But San doesn’t celebrate for long.
The moment the final buzzer sounds, he’s lready skating toward the exit.
───────── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆
─────────
You’re sitting on the rink bench afterward, still catching your breath.
The arena is mostly empty now. Most skaters have already left.
Your medal rests in your hand.
Silver.
You stare at it quietly.
It’s not gold. But you’re still proud.
Footsteps echo suddenly through the arena.
You glance up.
San bursts through the doors. Still in his hockey gear.
Breathing hard.
Your eyes widen.
“You ran here?”
San skids slightly as he stops near the boards.
“Did I miss it?”
You blink.
“You had a game.”
“I know.”
“You’re insane.”
“Did you win?”
You hold up the medal.
“Second.”
San stares at it.
Then he smiles. A real smile.
“That’s amazing.”
You laugh softly.
“It’s not first.”
“So?”
“So it’s not—”
“You landed the jump.”
You freeze.
“How did you—”
“You always land it when you’re confident.”
Your chest tightens slightly.
San steps onto the ice. Still in his hockey skates.
“You’re not allowed on here,” you point out.
“Too late.”
He skates slowly toward you. You meet him halfway.
The rink is quiet now. Its just the two of you.
San looks at you carefully.
“You were incredible,” he says.
Your heartbeat speeds up again.
“You didn’t even see it.”
“I didn’t have to.”
The silence between you grows heavier.
Then San speaks again.
“You know… I didn’t hate sharing the rink.”
You raise an eyebrow.
“You complained constantly.”
“Yeah.”
“You called figure skating dramatic.”
“It is.”
“You tried to hit me with a puck.”
“That was an accident.”
“It absolutely was not.”
San laughs softly.
Then his expression turns more serious.
“But I meant what I said earlier.”
“About what?”
“Watching you.”
Your breath catches slightly.
San rubs the back of his neck awkwardly.
“I notice things.”
You smile faintly.
“You’ve mentioned that.”
“I notice when you’re nervous.”
You step closer.
“I’m not nervous now.”
San’s eyes flicker slightly.
“Good.”
The distance between you is almost nothing now.
Your skates nearly touch.
“You know,” you say quietly, “you never admitted it.”
“Admitted what?”
“That you were jealous.”
San sighs.
“You’re still on that?”
“You absolutely were.”
“Fine,” he mutters.
“I was.”
Your smile widens slightly.
San shakes his head.
“You’re impossible.”
“And you’re such a softie.”
“I play hockey.”
“You tied my skates before my competition.”
San pauses.
Then he says quietly—
“Only because I care.”
Your heart stops for a moment.
The confession slips out so naturally he doesn’t even seem to realize he said it.
You stare at him. He blinks.
“Oh.”
“Yeah,” you murmur softly.
“Oh.”
Neither of you move for a moment.
Then you say gently—
“You know… I don’t hate hockey players anymore.”
San raises an eyebrow.
“Just one in particular?”
“Maybe.”
“And which one would that be?”
You lean closer.
“The annoying one who watches my practice.”
San smiles faintly.
“That guy sounds terrible.”
“He is.”
“But you like him?”
You shrug.
“Maybe.”
San laughs softly.
Then, finally, he takes your hand.
Your fingers lace together naturally.
“I think I liked you the first time you yelled at me about the ice,” he admits.
You groan.
“That was not romantic.”
“It was a little romantic.”
“You’re unbelievable.”
“You’re dramatic.”
You roll your eyes.
But you don’t let go of his hand.
San glances down at the ice beneath your skates.
“You want to show me that spin again?”
“You’re still terrible at it.”
“Maybe. But you’re going to teach me anyway.”
You smile.
“Maybe.”
Together, the two of you glide slowly across the empty rink.
tags/genre: college au, ice hockey au, smut with plot, established relationship, golden retriever yunho loves his gf!!
word count: 6.0k words
synopsis: how convenient is it that you're dating one of the star players of the university's hockey team as a sports medicine major? you couldn't ask for a better test subject. of course, it becomes a little too much of a coincidence that he constantly needs you to check him for injuries, each one in a more scandalous place than the last ...
notes: 18+ content (mdni!). i think this might be one of my fave smut scenes i've written in a while so pls enjoy tee hee
“you’re going to want to focus your rom evaluation for the team in their hips,” dr. kim instructs from across the examination room. you nod without looking up, scribbling her notes on your ipad as she continues to break down what assessments you needed to perform.
“make sure to use the goniometer to—”
“follow your shot!”
“make sure to—”
“i said to follow your shot, mingi!”
“make—”
“bro, i did!”
“oh, goodness.” dr. kim huffs at the distant outbursts from the ice and shakes her head, pinching at the bridge of her nose. “these boys and their yelling.”
you laugh at her exasperation and set aside your ipad, propping your chin between your palms while your elbows rest on the padding of the examination table. you knew exactly what you were getting yourself into when you requested to shadow the university’s medical staff for the hockey team. their reputation was unmatched, both on and off the ice.
of course, it was a nice bonus that your boyfriend was on the starting lineup.
“i’ve got it,” you assure her, “i’ll make sure to submit all my notes when i’m reporting my hours.”
“good,” the older woman answers, glancing at her laptop before she rises from her rolling chair. “i’m headed back to my office, but just an email or phone call away if you need anything.”
“thank you!” you call after her as she disappears into the hallways that lead out of the stadium. the examination room becomes eerily quiet, save for the hums from medical equipment and your apple pencil tapping against your screen as you review your lecture from earlier. suddenly, the door creeps open and you hear heavy footsteps approaching you.
“can i help you?” you ask, unable to hide the smile that grows on your face when you glance up at yunho. he forces a pitiful expression onto his face, his fingers wrapped tightly around his bicep. the way he sulks, even for show, never fails to tug at your heartstrings.
“i think i’m dying.”
“i think you’re fine,” you scold and roll your eyes at his theatrics. “but, if it’ll give you peace of mind, i’ll take a look.”
“best therapist ever,” he sings, swinging tall legs so that he’s sat on the examination table before you. for one of the few occasions, he’s eye to eye with you.
“i’m not a therapist yet,” you mutter under your breath, reaching for his arm. “and if you keep faking injuries, you won’t see a real one if something serious happens.”
“but you love having me as a patient,” he retorts with a comical frown etched across his face. yunho surrenders his arm to you as you prod at the muscles across his arm through the fabric of his jersey. he stares unabashedly at you as you mentally assess him, lost in thought while you apply pressure to where he claimed his injury was.
“does that hurt?”
“i mean, define hurt.”
“yunho,” you scold, tracing your fingers along the length of his biceps for any final signs of an injury he might not be faking. seeing none, you shake your head and release your grip on his arm. “you realize you’d barely be able to lift that arm if you were actually in pain?”
“are you sure?”
“pretty sure you’re not dying.” you fail to contain your laugh at the way he bounds off of the table with glee regardless, throwing said injured arm around your waist so that you were pulled against his torso. even after a round of practice, his familiar scent still lingers on his skin and engulfs you. “although, you might kill me if your grip gets any tighter.”
“fine, fine,” he sighs and releases you with a quick kiss to your forehead. “how’s shadowing going, though?”
“well, i think,” you say, biting down on your bottom lip as you scan the room for anything you needed to address before shutting down the equipment and leading him out of the room so that you could lock up. “dr. kim has been really helpful. it’s been good to help assess real bodies and not just plastic dummies in class.”
“speaking of dummies,” yunho mutters to you as the rest of the team clamors through the narrow halls with their voices loud and resounding against the hollow concrete. they cry out when they see the pair of you, their sticks clattering against the walls and their pads squeaking against their restraints.
“so, is yunho dying?” mingi scoffs, earning a shove from your boyfriend. you shake your head and swat his arm playfully.
“not today, he’s not.”
“he might if he doesn’t tighten up his defense before our game next week,” hongjoong jokes, although the sheepish grin that flashes across yunho’s face tells you that this isn’t the first time he’s been lectured to pick up the slack on the ice.
“i’m sure he will,” you assure him, a cutting glance in your peripheral at yunho as a reminder to talk about it later. “no more faking injuries to waste time off the ice.”
“but i was—”
“bro, you were fine!” wooyoung groans, shoving past him with a dramatic sigh.
“god forbid a man just wants to spend time with his girl,” yunho hums, throwing his arm over your shoulders and continuing out of the arena while you wave a hasty goodbye at the boys with a promise to check on them during their next practice.
“that’s not natural.”
“if you don’t want your hips to lock on the ice, you better follow along.”
you sit cross-legged beside yunho later that night on the floor of his bedroom, your ipad propped against the leg of his chair so that you could practice a stretching routine you’d been recommended by one of the older sports med students. currently, the soles of your feet were pressed together with your knees as far apart as possible. yunho grumbles beside you, awkwardly contorting his long limbs so that he can mimic the instructions until a sharp yelp escapes him.
“i feel like i’m about to split in half.”
“that means it’s working.” you outstretch your arms so that you can arch your back more deeply. “and stop holding your breath.”
a wheeze escapes yunho as he tries to steady his breathing and you laugh under your breath before relieving yourself from the stretch, shifting instead to helping your not-so-limber boyfriend with his poor hip flexors. he furrows his brows at the tension in his legs, watching as you adjust his posture so that you can press your hands to his knees.
“deeper,” you instruct, applying a gentle pressure that he quickly flinches beneath.
“i think you just want to break me,” he groans through gritted teeth as he seems to finally relax into the position.
“y’know, there’s plenty of benefits to torturing yourself like this,” you scold, fidgeting with his limbs so that he doesn’t strain himself. once he’s in a comfortable stretch, you retreat and brush the hair that’s fallen in front of his eyes.
“like?”
“well, being faster on the ice, for one,” you say casually before you shift your weight to the heels of your palms on the wooden floor.
“well, i figured that much,” he chides, “what else?”
“mm,” you hum as you stare at him with narrowed eyes. he meets your gaze, now with an arched brow as he slowly releases himself from the stretch. you crawl towards him just enough so that your voice can dip lower, a teasing smile crossing your features. “tight hip flexors can really limit your range of motion. it can create tension in surrounding muscles and make … certain activities less enjoyable than they can be.”
“like?” he repeats, hooking onto your every word as a new tone overtakes his voice. he matches your expression as he pulls you onto his lap, snaking his arms around your waist to trace his fingers over the small of your back.
“any positions where the hips are extended,” you lilt, threading a hand through his hair as he stares up at you. “missionary, standing on the edge of the bed …”
“sounds like i need to keep stretching then,” yunho replies, his breath growing heavier as he ghosts his lips over yours.
a gasp slips out of you before he pulls you into a kiss, his hands sliding down your back to position you over his cock. you shudder at the familiar feeling, relishing the taste of him as he rocks your hips against his in a slow, languid motion. his kisses trail away from your lips and to your jaw, your throat. he latches onto a particularly sensitive spot and you whimper in response, throwing your head back with another shaky breath.
yunho hums against your skin and you can feel the thundering of his heart beneath his ribcage as your hands trail down his torso. he pulls away from you just enough so that you can meet his lust-filled gaze, his lips parted as he shivers under your touch beneath the hem of his shirt.
you rake your nails across the surface of his skin, warm to the touch and even warmer when you graze past his sweats. he curses under his breath, his hips lifting off of the floor to meet yours—
“bro, can i borrow your—oh—” another voice cuts through the tension and you shoot up, nearly falling out of yunho’s lap in the process. yunho glares over your shoulder at wooyoung. “fuck, sorry. i was just trying to borrow your headphones.”
“you couldn’t knock?” yunho scolds, his body rigid beneath yours. disappointed, you slide off of him and onto the floor to retrieve your ipad.
“you couldn’t lock your door?” wooyoung snaps back, glancing at you with a sheepish grin. you roll your eyes at his expression, trying and failing to appear mad at him for more than a fraction of a second before a scoff slips out of you. “carry on.” he shuts the door behind him in a haste.
yunho pouts at you in defeat. “man.”
“oh, you big baby,” you tease, shoving yourself off of the floor as he does the same. he stretches his hands overhead with a dramatic groan, his body falling limp as he pulls you towards his bed and beneath the sheets. “acting like this is the last time we’ll ever hook up.”
“still!” he protests, caging your body beside his. a comforting warmth radiates off of him as you bury your face in his chest with a deep sigh. the way he strokes your hair causes your own body to relax in his arms as you drift quickly to sleep.
at the next practice, an unexpected injury captures your attention.
you’re seated in the stands for the time being, monitoring the ways in which the players rotate their muscles on the ice and how they shift into different positions when a sharp curse echoes across the rink. the sound of skates cutting through the ice as they halt to a stop resounds against the plexiglass and you look up in curiosity.
dr. kim calls out orders from the corner of the ice, ready to assess injury as the boys assist san towards her. you shuffle down through the bleachers and quickly arrive at her side before you follow them through the tunnel. san grimaces as you help guide him onto the examination table, gripping a gloved hand over his thigh.
“here?” dr. kim asks calmly, ghosting a hand over his inner thigh before he nods once. she glances back at you and takes a step back. “you want to perform the initial assessment?”
ignoring the nerves prick at your skin, you nod with as much confidence as you could muster and approach san with a sympathetic smile. he tries to mirror your expression but it looks more pained than anything else. dr. kim settles onto her stool beside the laptop to open his records for reporting while you take a look at him.
“okay,” you begin, stepping between his knees. “can you let me know if it’s tender when i palpate?” he nods and you press your hands, more clinical and controlled than the way your hands roamed over yunho not even a full twenty-four hours prior, along the inside of his thigh.
you move with deliberate pressure, mentally expecting him to have pulled his adductor. a sharp inhale escapes him and he winces, causing you to look over at dr. kim in confirmation. you instruct him through bending his knees, moving through a series of stretches while san continues to groan and flinch under your touch.
“it’s a mild adductor strain,” you tell him once he’s been sat straight. “ice, compression, rest. we’ll keep an eye on it for the next day or so, but don’t try to push through the pain and play or you’ll feel worse by the next game.”
“good job,” dr. kim commends you quietly, filing away san’s injury before glancing up from the laptop with a satisfied smile.
san beams at you in spite of his pain. “thanks, doc.”
“anytime,” you answer, trying not to let your ego inflate from the praise. a shuffle in the doorframe forces you to shift your attention as yunho peers into the examination room. you arch a brow, silently scolding him in disbelief as he dramatically limps into the room.
“yes, yunho.” dr. kim lowers her glasses, her eyes shifting between the pair of you as san staggers away on his tender leg. yunho blinks, a string of stammers slipping out of him as his hands roam over his body before stopping on his hip.
“my, uh—my hips feel really tight,” he laments, his gaze locked on you. “i think i should get looked at.”
“so, you won’t mind if i perform your assessment, then?” the older woman asks, crossing her arms over her torso as yunho’s brows rise in surprise. you bite down on your tongue to keep from laughing as he straightens near immediately.
“no, no,” yunho answers quickly, throwing up his hands in surrender. “i just—i thought she could use the clinical hours.”
“she just earned them on someone who was actually injured,” dr. kim scolds, her gaze trailing over every inch of him. “which, you clearly aren’t.” yunho glances over at you in a plea for help that you ignore with a hum, becoming incredibly focused on sanitizing the examination table. “i know it’s all in good fun to spend more time down here, but you’re in the starting lineup. your hips take a tremendous amount of strain so i’d appreciate it if you didn’t cry wolf and have me worried about you when i don’t need to be.”
“yes, ma’am,” he replies, his shoulders slumped while mingi passes through the hallway with a low whistle for dramatic effect. you swallow, sorry for yunho’s lecture but very much aware that she was right.
the week carries on quickly. yunho isn’t as eager to disturb you in the examination room, focusing instead on running drills with the team and even allowing you to guide him through stretching routines in the nights leading up to the game. the playfulness you were used to was replaced by a stoic sense of determination you were only used to when there was a major game. you’d heard rumors of how intense the mavericks played and the type of preparation they went through before a game. you weren’t even on the ice and you felt the pressure.
dr. kim urges you to take the night off and you reject her attempts. if there were ever a time to learn about operating in a high-pressure environment, it would be a game night like this. the crowd roars around you and you look around from your spot beside the rink, along with the rest of the clinical staff at the tunnel entrance. as much as you would have loved to don yunho’s jersey for the night and be up in the stands screaming for him, your uniform and badge reel for the medical team would have to do instead.
the mavericks enter the ring first and the home crowd cheers as the sound of their skates cuts across the ice in a sea of black. the arena lights dim lightly after their entrance, the spotlight trailing to the far entrance before the announcer’s voice blasts through the speakers. you shift your weight beside dr. kim, trying to focus on her small talk while the voyagers come out onto the ice and your heart lurches from the adrenaline. you catch sight of the #11 on yunho’s jersey and press your lips shut to not cheer in support beside the stone-faced medics.
“let’s go, boys,” you say to yourself, your fists clenching and unclenching as you keep an eye on the overhead monitor to watch the game more closely.
the first drop of the puck captures your attention, bodies colliding and ice spraying in every direction while the crowd clamors over which team deserves possession. you were no stranger to the games—you’d been to countless since you’d started dating yunho and he’d been added to the starting lineup. this was different, though. being so close to the ice, knowing that you had a role to play.
“relax,” dr. kim eases, pressing a hand to your shoulder. you sigh, your eyes locked on yunho at the back end of the voyagers and the way his body moves in response to the rival players. you mentally scan every inch of him, from the rotation of his hips to the way his grip is positioned on his stick.
“yeah,” you answer, smiling apologetically without meeting her gaze. the whistle blows to signal the end of the first period, both teams hurrying to their corners and their coaches barking directions for them to adjust their plays. the voyagers were up one goal, making for an early comfortable lead.
you catch yunho’s gaze from the corner of the team’s bench, the faint hint of a smile tugging at his lips before he turns back to the coach. your heart skips a beat and you try to ignore the anxiety you felt over him potentially getting hurt in exchange for chatting with the medics about your experience shadowing so far.
a surge of adrenaline fills the arena as the crowd roars to signal the start of the second period. the puck drops and the teams are back with renewed vigor. you grit your teeth when mingi is slammed into the nearby plexiglass, a curse slipping out of him before he regains his composure and skates back towards the center. there’s something in the air for the second period with the mavericks desperate to score.
the rival center forward weaves through the voyagers with ease, moving like water as he closes in on yeosang with the sound of sticks clattering behind him. you tense at his attempt—a successful one, at that—to score a goal and grumble when the audience loses their mind at the mavericks evening the score. you clap your hands and spout words of encouragement from your corner, biting down on a manicured nail when the puck returns to center.
a heated back-and-forth possession ensues, with the voyagers barely able to keep the puck to the far end of the rink where they needed it to be. yunho sweeps into the center behind seonghwa and is able to move it away from the mavericks, cutting inward and picking up his pace as he shouts to the rest of the team.
it happens faster than you’d expected.
yunho plants his right skate against the ice to pivot as a rival defenseman barrels across the ice towards him. the sound of bodies colliding cuts through the noise and you gasp as his torso rotates and you notice a sharp, unnatural shift in his hips from the impact. he loses possession and the crowd is quick to follow before yunho winces and lowers himself onto the ice, his gloved hand grabbing at his hip to ease the pain.
medics skate onto the ice as the garbled sound of the announcer’s commentary and the referee’s whistle flood your senses, your heart pounding as you await dr. kim’s instructions. her expression is unreadable as she prepares her station and one of the stretchers without a word. you look back towards yunho and hear something about him needing to be removed from the ice. he winces, his face drained of color as he fails to stabilize himself without the help of the medics on either side of him. they say something to him beneath the crowd’s chatter and examine his leg, wincing with a groan as you recognize the injury.
you swallow dryly, trying to pay attention to dr. kim’s explanation of what the next steps of the process would be in lieu of the concern that swarmed your mind. yunho’s unable to bear weight on his leg as he’s guided off of the ice, the rest of the boys watching with pale faces as they shift him onto one of the stretchers and prepare to guide him towards the examination room. he doesn’t so much as glance in your direction and your stomach drops when you realize this was far different than anytime he’d bothered you about wanting to be seen.
your hearing is muffled as you follow behind dr. kim with the announcer introducing a second lineup defenseman in yunho’s place. the examination room at the mavericks’ arena feels much more clinical, more sterile than you were used to. you watch as yunho is moved onto the table with careful coordination, any shift in his right leg causing him to grit his teeth in pain.
“tell me exactly where the pain is,” dr. kim says professionally, snapping on a pair of latex gloves as he stands before him.
“in the front,” he rasps, gesturing to the side of his leg below his hip.
“on the planted foot when the defense forced rotation?”
“mhm.”
you shift closer, trying selfishly to catch his eye while dr. kim recites information to document in his record. your fingers tap along the keyboard as you listen further. she flexes his hip to nearly ninety degrees and he yelps, his knuckles white as he grabs the edge of the table. she arches a brow and looks at you. “labral involvement.” she turns back to yunho with a grim expression. “you’re done for tonight. you don’t want to put any more pressure on that leg or your hips or else you’re looking at a much more severe injury.”
“seriously?” he scoffs, bitter at the fact that he was about to be benched. frustration simmers beneath the surface and you finally meet his gaze, the way he looks utterly defeated. “we’re tied out there.”
“seriously,” she parrots. “ice and compression. we’ll arrange crutches, but you’re done.”
you move quickly when dr. kim leaves to speak with the coaches, desperate for something to do to fill the silence as you tried to think of a way to comfort yunho. he doesn’t look at you and just stares forward at the wall while you press the ice pack against his hip and instruct him to not move.
“wasn’t planning on it.” you look up at him and he sighs, trying to mask his frustration with a weary smile as you apply gentle pressure. “at least you know i’m not faking this time.”
“shockingly, that doesn’t make me feel better,” you grumble, narrowing your eyes at him. “i’m sorry, baby.”
“it is what it is,” he says with a resignation you weren’t used to from him. you support him quietly, guiding him to change in the locker room and helping to keep his leg elevated with the ice pack while you listen to the game coming to a close.
the voyagers return with slumped shoulders and fallen faces, confirming your suspicions that they failed to keep the lead. yunho meets them with a forlorn expression, dismissing any of their concerns for his leg in exchange for encouraging words that they would crush the mavericks at their next game.
the cold night air bites at you as you help yunho maneuver into the backseat of his car so that he could keep his leg outstretched. he curses under his breath as he lowers himself onto the leather, his hands gripping the doorframe.
“slow,” you instruct clinically and he grits his teeth.
“i’m going slow.”
you shut the door once he’s situated and circle around to the driver’s seat, settling as the engine hums to life with a sigh. thankfully, yunho’s building was easily accessible and there were elevators that would make his trip upstairs much easier. you glance at him in the rearview mirror as you pull off, your heart heavy at the expression on his face.
“i didn’t even see it coming,” he says suddenly and you tighten your grip on the steering wheel.
“i know.”
“it wasn’t even that hard of a hit.”
“it doesn’t have to be,” you inform him gently as he leans his head back against the window with a grimace. in the years you’d known yunho, there was rarely a moment where you found him anything but bright-eyed and positive. the injury absolutely crushed him, more than you feared you were able to console him for the time being.
“i’m gonna be useless for weeks,” he grumbles, more to himself than to you.
“you’re not,” you assure him, “you just need to heal.”
“hm.” you’re nearly to yunho’s apartment when he perks up suddenly, meeting your eyes in the rearview mirror. “you know, i hate not finishing something when i start it.”
“you’ll be able to play sooner than you th—”
“i’m not talking about the game.”
at the stoplight, you whip your head around and find yunho staring at you expectantly with the first smile you’d seen from him since earlier that night. you scoff at his mention of the night wooyoung had stormed in and shake your head, turning back to the road when the light changes back to green.
“you’re unbelievable.”
“what! i’m not going to be able to practice or play for a while,” he explains, gesturing to his leg dramatically. “it’d be nice to have some entertainment in the meanwhile.”
“you’re injured!” you cry out, dumbfounded as you pull up to his building. from the parking lot to the hallway in front of his door, you shut down every one of his advances to convince you that he was in any condition to make love to you anytime soon.
“okay, but what if i took the crutches and—”
“you’re going to bed!” you snap, about to take the crutches away from him entirely and have him crawl along the floorboards when he finally accepts his loss and slinks away to bed in defeat.
the first two weeks feel like hell for yunho.
he’s in no condition to play, but he’s restless beyond belief. he sits at the edge of the rink during practices, his crutches stacked beside him in an empty seat. he stumbles through the halls to the examination room so he can watch you perform routine assessments on the other boys—of course, not without comments on how he was the one who needed the most attention from you given his condition. dr. kim scolds him like clockwork, instructing him that he needed to stay put until his follow-up.
you take yunho to and from his appointment and there’s a shift in the energy from the last several weeks.
“you heard her,” he says from the passenger seat, a smug grin plastered across his face. “cleared for physical activity.”
“that doesn’t mean what you think it means.”
“yes it does.”
“no, it doesn’t.”
he leans his head back against the leather headrest, glancing over at you with a pitiful expression. “i’ve been very patient, you know.”
“you’ve been unbearable,” you tease, patting his leg affectionately. he scoffs and rests his hand over yours, silent for the rest of the ride back to his apartment.
it’s the first time in weeks he’s able to walk independently without the crutches and you observe him like a hawk as he strolls down the hallway from the elevator. there’s no staggering in his pace and his hips sit normally, no signs of pain evident in his movements or his expression. the apartment is silent when you follow him in, the rest of the boys still occupied at practice. you follow yunho into his room and settle onto the edge of the bed, about to speak when he cages you between his hands pressed into the sheets.
“yes?” you ask, glancing up at him and struggling to ignore the tension that simmered between you. weeks of anticipation buzzed along your skin, coupled with the relief that you felt knowing that yunho had narrowly escaped a permanent injury. he arches a brow, leaning in just enough so that his lips brushed over yours.
“cleared for physical activity,” he repeats, more urgently this time. “please.”
“i—yunho,” you say softly beneath the sound of your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “are you sure? i don’t want you to risk anything if—”
“i’m really tired of waiting,” he nearly begs, his voice cracking with desperation. “c’mon.”
“… okay,” you finally breathe, barely able to get the word out by the time his mouth devours yours. he shifts onto the bed with his knees on either side of you and you can’t help but pull away to monitor his movements, slow and careful but seemingly painless. “go slow.”
“no promises,” he teases, lifting your legs to wrap them on either side of his waist as he meets your lips with another hungry kiss. little by little, you allow the worry to subside and melt into his touch with a soft sigh. yunho devours the sound with a groan of his own, shifting his hips just enough so that he could press his growing erection against your core with enough pressure to make you writhe under his touch.
you wrap your arms around his neck to pull him in deeper, subconsciously shifting him to lay on his side so that he wouldn’t put strain on his hips. he obliges and turns you so that your back is pressed against his torso, quick to devour your neck in a string of open-mouthed kisses that have you grinding against him.
“fuck,” he mutters into your hair, his grip on your waist tightening with every move. you tilt your head back against his shoulder with a blissful sigh. it barely registers that he’s snaked his hand past the hem of your sweats to move your panties to the side. his breath hitches as he glides a fingertip along your folds, already dripping for him before he shoves two fingers inside of you.
“yunho,” you rasp with a tight grip on the sheets around you. he hums at the sound of his name and falls into a steady rhythm that you rock your hips against.
“just like that, baby girl,” he says through a groan, “ride my fingers.”
you oblige without protest, any rational thought long gone from your mind as you grind your hips down onto his hand. he inserts a third finger and you gasp from the sudden fullness as he continues pressing kisses to your shoulder. your mind reels from the feeling of his touch after what felt like an eternity, pleasure rocking against your core and setting every nerve ending on fire.
you can feel your orgasm clawing at you for release, your stomach tight with pleasure as your breath begins to quicken. before you can warn yunho, he slips his fingers out of you and you feel him shift slightly behind you before he lowers your sweats and lifts your leg over his. the tip of his cock brushes against your entrance and you gasp in unison when he positions himself to slide into you until he bottoms out.
yunho rumbles with a low growl as he begins to move, his entire length gliding along your walls and creating a delicious friction you hadn’t had in a while. he wraps a hand around your throat, keeping you confined to his touch as he thrusts against you in a lazy, staggered rhythm.
“good girl,” he says lowly, his grip on your neck tightening just enough to earn a whimper from you. “you like getting fucked like that?”
“mhm,” you mewl and arch your back against him, your hands grabbing at anything from the sheets to his forearm for stability as he fucks you harder. you can hear his breathing against the shell of your ear become heavier when you shift your weight to clench around him.
you tremble against yunho, your release coming even more quickly than before as you sink your nails into his arm with a drawn-out whimper in warning. he hisses at the sting and stills, slipping his cock out of you. you turn back enough to shoot him a glare in question.
“you made me wait, didn’t you?” he teases, his voice clipped from the restraint he was holding himself to.
“you were injured!” you cry out for what had to be the umpteenth time.
yunho just chuckles and shifts so that you can position yourself on top of him. you bite down on your bottom lip as you tactfully avoid his injured leg as much as possible and press your weight down onto him so that he bottoms out inside of you for the second time. you gasp, your lips parted and your eyelids heavy as you rock your hips against him to finally earn your orgasm.
without warning, yunho grabs your hips and keeps you steady so that he can buck his hips up and into you. his hair falls over his face as he pants, determined to regain control when you press a palm to his torso.
“your injury,” you pant breathlessly, your words nearly slurring.
“fuck the injury,” he groans, though it comes out in something more akin to a whine as he fights to keep up the pace. “i need to fuck you.”
“a-ah—!” you cry out when he hits a particularly sensitive spot, his fingers digging into your hips with renewed vigor as he manages to slide fully in and out of you at his own speed. a satisfied grin hangs from his lips as you struggle to stay upright in his lap, falling over and burying your face in the crook of his neck so that he can drag you—finally—to your release.
“god, baby,” you gasp, your heart nearly bursting out of your chest when he hammers into you and you feel the wave of pleasure building, building until it finally spills over. you twitch against him, shuddering as you’re finally able to succumb to your orgasm. yunho groans, not far behind before he holds you steady and comes inside of you with a drawn-out breath.
you fight to steady your breathing as you sit upright, quick to glare at him. he meets you with an exhausted smile before brushing strands of hair from your face, his chest rising and falling from his own deep breaths. he slips out of you and sighs as you venture into the bathroom and return with a bottle of water and a fresh change of clothes.
“at least there’s one perk to being injured,” he lolls, his hands behind his head as he adjusts his hips against the sheets.
“don’t think i won’t be running you like the military to make sure you do all the recovery stretches,” you snap, crossing your arms over your torso at the edge of the bed.
“what did you say?” he asks, feigning ignorance. “that certain positions will help stretch out my hip flexors?”
“i don’t know if you’re remembering it right.”
“oh, i definitely am.”
“you definitely aren’t.”
“well, why don’t we test it out, anyway?”
“why don’t you elevate that leg of yours before i let dr. kim know you’re not following what you’re supposed to do?”
“yes, ma’am.” without another word, yunho beams at you as you shove a pillow beneath his ankle and pulls you back into his embrace.
tags/genre: college au, ice hockey au, smut with plot, established relationship, possessive san, mirror sex, lil bit of dirty talk, LOTS of jealous san
word count: 5.3k words
synopsis: you'd call yourself a certified wag for the university hockey team. you were at all of san's games, hung out with the boys after practice, wore his numbers proudly whenever you could. tension brews when a rival team challenges the boys—and your relationship—before playoffs end ...
notes: 18+ content (mdni!), SORRY I TOOK A MINUTE Y'ALL LIFE GOT A LIL BUSY BUT I'M HERE!!!
you perfected your night routine until it became second nature. what once was a cozy night in with a cup of tea, face masks and a bad reality show repeat quickly became descending the steps of the freezing arena until you were seated behind the home team’s bench. the only thing separating you from the ice was the thick layer of glass and a game to be won. even your #01 jersey, thick as it was, didn’t do much to keep the cold out as you burrow deeper into san’s scent that lingered on the fabric.
the crowd fills in quickly behind you to the tune of whatever pop hit was blaring through the speakers. you hum along in anticipation, scrolling through your phone until the music comes to a sudden pause and the fans surrounding the ice begin to roar.
“ladies and gentlemen,” the announcer summons, earning another cheer in response, “please welcome to the ice, your starting lineup for the seoul national university voyagers!”
the spotlights circulate across the ice wildly as your heart races from the adrenaline, pounding beneath your ribs as you prepare your phone to capture your boyfriend’s entry.
one by one, the team appears with the sound of their sharpened skates against the ice. your cheers dissolve into the thunderous crowd as blue jerseys flash across your line of sight. the announcer calls out their names one by one, along with their positions until you finally catch a glimpse of him rounding the rink until he stops just before the bench.
“and your starting left wing, number one,” a dramatic pause, “choi san!”
your cheer carries through the loudest and san perks up in surprise, catching your gaze and breaking out into a broad grin. he brings a gloved hand to his face and blows you a kiss that you gladly reciprocate. you can hear the younger girls clamoring behind you with glee and you chuckle under your breath knowing they assumed he was bartering for their attention.
the sound of steel on ice surrounds you as all of the boys pull into their bench, their coach already shouting reminders at them from their practice runs. your mind wanders as the announcers shifts to welcoming the other team into the rink, black jerseys replacing the sea of blue from just moments prior.
“and at left wing for the yonsei university mavericks, making his starting lineup debut—” a brunet draws closer, his features slowly coming into view until your heart stops.
“—lee hyunjae!”
you can barely pay attention to the way the crowd’s energy shifts to heckle the rival team for the first playoff game of the season. all you can focus on is the fact that your long-lost ex-boyfriend was about to square off in an incredibly testosterone-filled match against your current boyfriend. you can barely hear anything around you with the way your heart was pounding against your ears.
the boy aquarium was about to get messier than you’d like.
“let’s go, san!” you cry out, clapping manicured hands excitedly. you grin at the way he peers over his shoulder from his seat on the bench and waves a hand at you in response. “get ‘em, baby!”
striped jersey referees skate toward the center and the players take their positions while the crowd screams on either side of the ice. as the puck drops, the immediate cut of skates across the ice and clamoring sticks fill the rink and your eyes lock on san.
he surges forward with long, swift strides as he drives through the neutral zone. san and the other voyagers press on aggressively against an equally precise mavericks lineup. a sharp pass captures the crowd’s attention as the puck shoots towards the mavericks’ goalie and you gasp, watching with bated breath as bodies collide until they fail at their first shot to make a goal.
“fuck,” you curse under your breath, raising your voice as the game carries on and they shift across the ice towards the opposite direction. “come on, boys!”
it’s neck and neck for some time, nothing short of what you expected from two of the top teams in the country. there’s at least a dozen close calls but the mavericks put up a strong defense, one that the team can’t seem to crack no matter how they shift their plays per the coach’s instructions.
suddenly, you hear someone collide against the plexiglass with a resounding thud. you gasp when you realize jongho was slammed into the barrier and the other boys on the team are in an uproar, ready to throw hands in the youngest’s defense as the referee tries relentlessly to separate them.
the fans behind you clamor in disapproval at the mavericks’ dirty play and you boo along with them. san is in the middle, not to fight but to assist the referee in pulling the voyagers back to their side of the ice. you smile down at him wearily, knowing he usually wasn’t the type to get involved in fights. his brows furrow as he drags mingi away from attempting to body check another player.
“y’all are dirty!” you scold at the top of your lungs, cupping your hands around your mouth to project. number #13 on the mavericks tilts his head toward you and you freeze, realizing you’d caught hyunjae’s attention unknowingly. you avert his gaze as quickly as you can before you return to cheering for the voyagers when the game is back in motion. it drags on until the final whistle blows, with a final score of 3-1 in the voyagers’ favor.
the crowd around you roars with applause as they celebrate the home team’s win, the boys circulating the ice with rapid strides and their fists held high. you shuffle out of your seat and down towards the halls that lead back to the locker rooms, the scent of disinfectant and the pulsing heater filling the space.
“LET’S FUCKING GO!” you hear mingi screech from around the corner, his voice cracking in response. you laugh and welcome them with a cheer of your own when san enters, scooping you into his strong arms and twirling you in the air before he sets you back on your feet.
“you did so good,” you praise him, meeting his lips with a quick peck before you turn to the rest of them with a proud grin. “all of you.”
“we had our favorite girl with us,” yunho replies, ruffling your hair through a gloved hand as you swat him away with a laugh.
“well, winning the first match still deserves to be celebrated,” you encourage.
“oh, don’t worry,” yeosang blinks up at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes, “we will.”
“bro, how am i supposed to take a body shot off of you if you keep coughing?” mingi scolds san, the latter strewn across a folding table in the already crowded apartment later that night.
“just do it!” he yells, tensing his muscles so that his abs would be still under mingi’s shot glass filled to the brim with vodka. he lifts it between his lips and throws his head back, setting aside the empty glass with a deep groan.
“hey!” the guys call out, welcoming you and the rest of your girls into the living room. you arch a brow at mingi, your eyes flickering between him and your dormant boyfriend horizontal on the flimsy table.
“trying to steal my man?” you tease, outstretching a hand. “lemme get one.”
san blinks up at you expectantly, a teasing smile gracing his features that makes his eyes disappear. he brings his hands behind his head, his biceps flexing under the thin fabric of his shirt. you try your best not to stare at them, instead holding his gaze as mingi hands you a fresh shot. you nod your thanks at him and set it onto san’s torso, leaning in just enough to ghost your lips over his before you lower yourself to the shot and take it into your mouth. liquor burns against your throat as you straighten and meet his disappointed stare.
“oh, come on!” he protests, clearly displeased by the fact that you refused to kiss him before taking the body shot. he grunts as he shoves himself upright and pulls you between his legs so that he can wrap his hands around your waist. “i think i deserve a kiss considering we won tonight.”
“mm,” you pause, pretending to be deep in thought until he glares at you again. “okay, okay!” you roll your eyes and press your palms to either side of his face, pulling him in so that the taste of vodka on his lips mingles with yours.
the party carries on until there’s barely room to walk in the apartment. music is blasting against the thin walls and you’d be surprised if they didn’t end up with yet another noise complaint. you’re seated on the kitchen counter along with san and some of the other boys. san leans against you with his forearm resting across your thigh, stroking your leg absentmindedly as they debrief the game.
“they’re fucking insane,” jongho says, taking a sip of his drink. “i’m pretty sure i met god when i got checked.”
“that was their left wing, right?” seonghwa asks, “hyun—something.”
“hyunjae,” you say too quickly, enough to earn a suspicious glance from him but not from san at your side. “i mean—i think it was hyunjae. i was looking up the player stats from their side during halftime.”
“ah,” seonghwa answers, not really believing you as he matches your gaze with narrowed eyes.
the night carries on until it’s well past two in the morning and you can feel your eyes threatening to shut on the spot. san picks up on this and pinches your side, encouraging you to head to his room to get some sleep since the rest of the party had begun to thin. you sigh, bidding your farewells to the few lingering faces as you slip into his room at the far end of the apartment for some time alone.
after taking off your makeup and slipping into one of san’s oversized shirts, you lay beneath his gray sheets willing yourself to fall asleep. naturally, you can’t. the idea that a terribly toxic ex-boyfriend was facing off against your current boyfriend felt like a recipe for disaster. even if it were irrational, you could feel guilt gnawing at you to speak with san about it. you hadn’t been dating for terribly long and he knew about hyunjae, but namelessly.
you’re deep in your own mental turmoil as you hear san come through the door, the lights now off in the living room and the rest of the boys ready to knock out. he’s freshly showered, smelling of cedar and sea salt as he slides into the sheets beside you. he drapes an arm over your waist and buries his face in your neck with a deep sigh.
“thank you for coming,” he mumbles in a slow, sleepy drawl. you scoff, threading a hand through his washed hair.
“always.” you remain like that for some time until you feel the nerves gnawing at your core. you nudge him slightly until he blinks up at you, exhausted. “hey, i need to tell you something.”
“hm?”
“the mavericks’ left wing,” you begin nervously, your reference to the rival team catching his attention as he sits up a bit higher. “hyunjae.”
“what about him?”
“remember the ex i told you about? the one that got jealous about every little thing?” you pause, recognition flashing across his features as you nod solemnly. “well.”
“no fucking way,” he scoffs, laying back onto his pillow with a shake of his head. “that guy was ruthless.” you stare at him, trying to gauge his reaction as he bites down on his bottom lip before speaking again. “well, don’t worry about him. your big, strong boyfriend will handle it.”
“no, no, no,” you shush him, pressing a hand to his torso. “don’t let him get to you. i just think seeing him after so long threw me off a little. just focus on killing it and getting best of three for your games.”
“… fine,” san groans in defeat, pulling you closer. “but, just know if he tries anything funny i’m not fucking with it.”
you swallow, a steely glint in san’s eyes you weren’t used to. “right.”
the air for the next game is different.
the voyagers enter with their usual bravado, locked in to take a second win home. san rounds the rink and skates to a halt near your seat to blow his routine kiss to you. with a smile, you reciprocate and cheer along with the rest of the crowd until the mavericks steal the show. their home crowd roars across the other end of the arena as they pump their sticks in the air rhythmically.
you swear hyunjae makes an effort to skate along the edge of the arena you were seated at and try your best to ignore it and remain fixated on san. the players get into position for the puck drop and you notice the way voyagers’ muscles grow tense, his gaze like steel beneath his helmet as he becomes laser focused.
the game drags for the first two periods, your nerves slowly dissipating with no one having scored yet. it’s in the third period that the mavericks’ center forward takes it home and they score, leaving your half of the arena with renewed anxiety. you keep an eye on the boys as they skate to the bench for a much-needed time out, san’s shoulders slumped as he tugs his helmet off to brush his hair back in frustration.
“you got this, baby!” you cheer, clapping along with the words of encouragement from other supporters. he glances up at you with a weary smile, nodding once before he shifts his attention to the coach’s direction.
the voyagers return to the ice and their energy shifts entirely into something more ruthless than before. seonghwa ups the pressure and the boys follow behind him closely, keeping the puck on the mavericks’ side of the rink until they finally clinch a goal with just a minute left in the game.
you hold your breath before releasing it in a deep exhale, knowing this meant they were shifting into overtime. there was still a chance for the voyagers to end the best-of-three here. the sudden death lineups skate back out into the rink, the rest of their teammates cheering them on from either bench. seonghwa, san and yunho assume their positions and you watch as they square off against the rival players with hyunjae opposing san.
god knows what you’d give to hear what the fuck was going on down there.
san grits his teeth, waiting at the ready for the puck drop. the crowd grows distant in his mind as he focuses on the player across from him. he tries his absolute best not to think about the fact that this was someone who’d treated you like shit and essentially gotten away with it—not when the playoffs were at stake.
he moves just a fraction of a second too late during his play, losing the puck as hyunjae slams into him by the shoulder. a guttural fuck! slips out of san as he trails after him to reclaim possession.
“your coach let you off the bench playing like that?” hyunjae scoffs, the sound of his skates cutting through his voice as he cages the puck away from san’s stick.
“didn’t hear shit from y’all when you lost game one,” san fires back, hanging back as hyunjae’s boxed in by mingi and he’s able to take back the puck in one swift motion.
“y’know, i think i saw your girl at the end of the last game,” hyunjae points out, following after san with long strides across the ice.
“so?” san ignores the way his blood boils at the mention of you as his eyes lock onto the goal ahead of him, seonghwa at his far right if his opportunity slips.
“she still make that cute little face when she cums?” hyunjae asks. “she did it with me all the time.”
san staggers at hyunjae’s unexpected comment and loses possession, much to the disappointment of his teammates and the crowd. he curses under his breath and flanks the older man hastily, extending his stick to no avail. hyunjae evades mingi like it’s nothing and rounds towards the voyagers’ goal. he moves quickly, too quickly so that he’s able to score one more for the mavericks.
“she used to ride me real fucking good after a goal like that,” the rival left wing hums, loud enough for only san to hear as he skates past san with a cocky grin.
“bro,” mingi calls out to san, the sound muffled as he sees red in hyunjae’s direction.
it all happens too fast.
san can’t focus on overtime after that. he doesn’t so much as glimpse at the clock before his stick is thrown across the ice, the gloves are off and he slams into hyunjae with full force. he reaches for his helmet and yanks it off by the cage, throwing a punch that connects with his jaw. hyunjae is quick to retaliate and slips off his gloves so that he can throw bare knuckles at him.
he can hear the referees calling for the pair of them to stop, the teammates shouting over the roar of the crowd for the opposing team to back the fuck off. san could give less of a fuck about the game in that moment as he throws punch after punch at hyunjae, wincing with a hiss when hyunjae’s fist connects with the bridge of his nose.
“knock it off!” the referee snaps, yanking san back by the scruff of his jersey so that he’s dragged away from hyunjae.
“oh, fuck me.” you grimace from your seat in the bleachers, eyes wide as you try to assess san’s injuries. his expression is unreadable, save for the arrogant grin that stretches across his face. blood trickles down from his nose over his lips with the tip of his tongue out just enough so that he can swipe it off. his hair falls over his eyes in messy strands, slick with sweat as he brushes it back in frustration.
“match penalty.” the announcer’s voice carries through the arena with the two most dreaded words the voyagers could have heard in an already tense overtime. “choi san, attempt to injure.”
the referee escorts san to the penalty box, bringing along his stick as the other players watch him being carried off. you can’t see him as well, but the curse that he lets out and the glare he tosses at hyunjae is more than enough for you to understand that exactly what you were avoiding was exactly what happened.
the voyagers exchange worried glances across the ice and you can hear their coach by the bench beneath you grumbling to himself and smacking a palm against his clipboard out of frustration. the announcers remind the crowd just how much time is left and you groan, dropping your head in your hands at the fact that hyunjae was still on the ice.
san sits behind the plexiglass of the penalty box, stone-faced as he watches the clock run out following hyunjae’s goal. the sea of black jerseys in the stands scream triumphantly while you remain seated and focused on your boyfriend. his chest heaves as his fingers curl around the length of his stick until he lifts it above his head and swings it hard enough against the wall of the penalty box that you can see it snap in half.
you don’t wait up for san that night.
you don’t text or call him after, either.
you lay in your own bed, your hands folded over your stomach as you stare at the ceiling. you were more conflicted than you’d ever felt in being with san. on one hand, you were irritated with the fact that he’d let hyunjae get under his skin. at the same time, you also knew he was already on edge with the fact that they’d gone into overtime and hearing whatever nonsense hyunjae was spewing couldn’t have helped the situation.
not to mention, the incredibly small yet toxic part of you that thought it was kind of hot that he’d been bloodied and grinning at the fact that he’d gotten hyunjae to shut the fuck up with brute force.
you’re deep in the same spiral of thoughts well past midnight when you hear a knock at your front door that seizes your attention. confused, you slip out from under the sheets and open it to see a bruised san standing before you.
“can i help you?” you ask, trying your best to sound stern but failing as your eyes trail over him. he looks pathetic, his shoulders slumped with defeat.
“can i come in, baby?” he asks in a quiet voice, his eyes meeting yours in a way that makes your heart melt.
with a sigh, you back up and gesture for him to enter your dorm. you both sit on the edge of your bed, you staring out of the window absentmindedly while you wait for him to speak. san clears his throat, an edge clear in his voice.
“i fucked up tonight,” he says, more to himself than to you. “we could’ve had this second game in the bag with that overtime and i let—i just didn’t—i—”
“it is what it is,” you say gently, resting your hand over his in his lap. “it’s just the way the game goes. you have the last game to lock in. but, now you can see what i meant about not letting hyunjae fuck with you like that.”
“i know, i just—” he exhales, threading his fingers through yours, “it’s hard when he has shit to say about my girl. it’s stupid, but you’re my girl.”
“as much as the fight was pretty nasty, i do like the sound of that,” you hum and drop your head against his shoulder with a soft laugh. “i guess i can appreciate a man fighting for my honor and all.”
“oh, so you thought it was hot?”
“well, when did i say all that?” you straighten, meeting san’s gaze with an arched brow. he grins at you expectantly, snaking his arm around your waist. while you wanted to leave more room for him to vent, you could imagine he needed a distraction from the weight of throwing the game in the mavericks’ favor.
“didn’t need to,” he teases, narrowing his eyes at you. “i could sense it.”
“oh?” your voice lilts, your arms draped over his shoulders so that you could trace your nails against the nape of his neck. “what else could you sense, then?”
“that you really want me to fuck you right now,” he mutters, his voice dipping lower as he leans over you so that your back hits the sheets. you instinctively wraps your legs around his waist to draw him in closer as his eyes lower to your lips.
“really?” you feign ignorance. “and what gave you that idea?”
“eh, lucky guess.”
before you can get another word in, san captures your lips in a hungry, heated kiss. you can still taste the tang of salt on his mouth as you groan against the feeling of his tongue meeting yours. he brings a hand to the small of your back so that you’re arched against him, the weight of his body on yours sending a shiver down your spine.
“mine,” he breathes against your lips when he pulls away for air.
you moan approvingly as he grabs your hips so that he can grind against you. the friction has your mind go blank when he buries his face in your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with a groan. you throw your head back against the sheets with a sigh and graze your nails across his well-defined back through the fabric of his shirt.
san cups your face when he returns to your lips, his free hand pushing into the back of your thigh so that you could feel every inch of him press against you. his grip tightens as his fingers dig into your flesh, holding you steady.
you swallow, your breath hitching in your throat as you grip at his shoulders and your eyes flutter shut. san drinks you in, gauging every bit of your reaction with parted lips. there’s something different in the way he touches you tonight. you could sense that he was still reeling from the fight earlier and the adrenaline of the game.
“san,” you murmur, about to reach for his face with both hands when he grabs them and pins them above your head so that you can’t touch him anymore.
“let me have this,” he urges gently, his voice soft in comparison to the way his fingers cage around your wrists. you oblige and relax instead of trying to wriggle free from his restraint when he lowers himself to drag your shirt up your torso with the fabric caught in his teeth. he buries his face in the dip of your breasts with a deep sigh, sinking his teeth into the sensitive flesh until you twitch against the sheets.
you whimper as his lips ghost lower, lower until he hits the hem of your panties. you can feel his breath through the fabric, hot and staggered as he drags the lace down your legs and throws them to the side. he groans at the sight of you bare before him, instinctively pushing your legs further open when you try to cage him in.
without warning, he drags the tip of his tongue along the length of your folds and latches his lips onto your clit. you cry out at the sudden pleasure and rake your now-free hands through his hair, holding him in place as he devours every last bit of you.
his eyes flicker up to meet yours, hooded with lust as he flattens his tongue against your entrance. you writhe under his touch, your chest heaving with every nerve ending in your body on fire. he ups the pace, bringing his thumb to massage against your clit while his tongue works the rest of you.
“god, you taste so good,” he nearly whines, breathless before he lowers himself back between your legs. all you can do is moan in response, the sound becoming tighter and higher as your thighs tense on either of his shoulders. “you wanna cum for me, baby?”
“fuck—yes—” your words are clipped as you come closer to your release, holding your breath before it spills over with a long, drawn-out whimper. san exhales with a quiet laugh before he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.
“good job,” he says under his breath, enough to make you blush at his praise. you reach for his waist, ready to lower his sweats and return the favor when he stops you. “ah, ah. i want to focus on you tonight.”
“are you sure?” you ask, following his lead as he slips off your shirt and lowers you back against the sheets.
“positive.” and focus on you, he does.
his hands roam over every inch of you as if it were the first time he’d ever felt the touch of your skin. you lift your hips from the sheets, desperate for him to fill you up when he scoffs and lowers his sweats to free his cock. you nearly salivate at the sight and make a mental note to definitely return the favor as soon as possible.
a low, feral grunt slips out of san as he pushes himself into you. his length stretches out your walls until he bottoms out inside of you and you feel his tip nearly in your stomach. as he begins to move, you grab onto his shoulders and clench around him so that you can drag him in even deeper.
“my fucking girl,” he breathes, his forehead pressed to yours as he falls into a steady rhythm. you groan approvingly with a nod, your eyes rolling back as he pounds into you hard enough that the headboard rocks against the thin drywall.
“yours,” you confirm weakly, your voice small under the way he throws his head back and sighs from the pleasure. his muscles flex and twitch with every movement, truly a sight for sore eyes before you lock back onto his gaze. there’s something raw and animalistic about the way he was fucking you, the way he fucked you so relentlessly in comparison to how soft and sweet he usually was.
hey, you didn’t hate it.
he pauses to pull you lower down the bed, enough so that you were parallel to your floor-length mirror tacked to the back of your dorm’s door. san captures your jaw between his fingers, turning your head so that you could meet his eyes in the reflection. the sight steals whatever air is left in your lungs. san’s broad body cages your against the sheets, his arms flexing with every slow, deliberate thrust. his hold on your jaw is firm so that you can’t look away. you gasp, your mouth slack with pleasure looking at the way your body succumbs to his.
san lowers his hand just enough to wrap his fingers around your throat, not quite choking you but keeping you fixated on his gaze.
“look at you,” he says, his voice hoarse, “so fucking pretty when i fuck you like this.”
every movement of his hips sends another wave of pleasure through you as your reflection captures every bit of it. your hips jerk instinctively beneath him, a broken string of curses falling from your lips. his brows furrow at the sight as his thrusts grow heavier, more rhythmic.
“i—” you can feel another wave of pleasure threatening to spill over. you don’t have to say another word as he finally tears himself from the reflection and reclaims your lips in a final, slow kiss. you melt under his touch as the desire builds in your core until you can’t take it anymore. “fuck, baby—”
san fucks you through your high, watching as your face contorts from the pleasure until he feels it pulling him under just the same. he fills you with one final thrust before he spills over and his body nearly collapses on top of yours.
the room is suddenly silent, save for the sound of you both fighting to catch your breath. he finally pries himself off of you with a dramatic groan, flopping over onto the undone sheets and meeting your gaze beside him.
“damn,” you say with a smile threatening to break out across your face. “might need to get you jealous more often.”
“i’d agree if it didn’t mean i ended up in the penalty box again,” san laughs, the sound drier than usual. you sigh, pushing yourself up to get dressed again as he does the same. he returns to sit at the edge of your bed so that he can stare down at you beneath your blankets beside him.
“you guys are gonna take the third game,” you assure him, cradled against the warmth of his body beside you. “just don’t go throwing punches on my behalf.”
“i guess you’re right,” san sighs, threading a hand through his hair. “i think i’m still pretty bent out of shape after the shit hyunjae said today, though.”
“what did he even say?” you ask tentatively to gauge his reaction. san stills, something emotionless washing over his face before he turns to you with another devious smile.
“not important,” he replies, draping an arm over your waist to pull you closer. “unless you want to help me blow off a little more steam?”
“oh, absolutely.” you can’t help but laugh as you pull san back into another kiss.
giving subby bf mingi a wraparound handjob, clean up aisle my pants. like hello are we seeing his thighs??
bf!mingi x f!reader
content: sub!mingi, handjob, teasing, begging
wc: 1.9k
thinking about mingi...
your boyfriend was so big. tall, dark, and handsome as they like to say. you loved when he had you underneath his body, playing with you, working you out until you went brainless with his dick deep in your guts and his hands on your throat like a cockdrunk toy.
but every once in a while, you liked to play with him too. and god as much as he’d whine about it, you both knew he loved it.
“b-baby, not so rough… please.” mingi sat between your legs, his thick thighs spread wide, his head craned down on his neck, staring at your hand between his legs. his hands fisted the sheets on the bed, pretty, low, whiny moans slipping past his shiny, swollen lips with every touch you subjected him to.
you leaned your chin on his shoulder, looking over his broad body to see the pretty sight below, your hand, small in comparison, wrapped around the thick length of mingi’s cock. his thighs twitched when you dragged your hand up the girth of him, your fingers shiny with sticky pearls of precum that leaked from his pretty pink tip.
your movements sounded slick, and every time you stroked him, base to tip, his chest, beaded with sweat, rose and fell with deep labored breaths. you bit your lip as you watched yourself play with him, warm and thick in your palm. his dick twitched and jumped every time you squeezed the base of him.
his moans hit your ears like the prettiest melody, every glide of your soft hand around him sending his stomach into a pleasure-dripped flurry.
“you want it slow, baby?” you whisper in his ear, kissing the vein that protrudes from the side of his throat. “i can go slow for you.”
gently, you stroke upwards along him, squeezing the tip of his dick and running the plane of your thumb along his leaking slit. his moans choke in his throat, and you feel his dick jump in your hands at the increased stimulation.
torturously slow, you drag your thumb over his slit, teasing him with squeezed intervals around his shaft. your other hand wraps around his body and rubs along his lower stomach, caressing his abs in featherlight strokes, feeling his stomach rise and fall under your palm.
“fuck.. oh god, baby please… d-don’t be m-mean-” he interrupts himself with a low groan when you drag your hand back down the length of his pretty dick, moving to gently squeeze his balls.
his cock is shiny and pink, so much pre-leaking from him that it starts to stick to his thighs. his moans rise in pitch when the hand on his stomach pressed down on his hard abdomen, adding a pleasurable pressure. his moans break off into a pathetic whine, the hand at his side comes up and wraps over his eyes, leaning his head back and moaning loudly into the space. looking at you jerking him off was almost too much, and he didn’t want to cum too quickly.
“my pretty boy…” you moan in his ear, and his cock twitches so hard in your grasp it almost startles you. he pants towards the ceiling, his head hanging back over your shoulder, the slick, sticky sounds of you stroking his cock only growing louder as your rhythm starts to become more pressured, more swift.
“don’t you wanna see what i'm doing to you?” you nibble on the shell of mingi’s ear, and he bites back a throaty whine.
“c-can’t… hah- can’t handle i-it.” he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, bucking his hips up into your hand to chase the friction of your touch. but you click your tongue and loosen your grip.
mingi’s eyes widen, and he pants loudly, raising his head and dropping his gaze back down to his lap, where he can see and feel your hand slipping away from his cock.
“n-no, mami, wait-” he whines disappointedly, moving his hand to try and grab your hand back, but you quickly drag your hand out of his reach and wrap it over his mouth, his warm moans hitting your palm. his eyebrows knot prettily in disdain, his hips fucking up into the air as if he might find relief in the nonexistent friction.
“you wanna cum?” you whisper in his ear, dragging your tongue up the side of his neck. he nods frantically, muffled begs and “please’s” hitting your palm. you smile and move your hand so you can hear him use that pretty voice to beg.
“-please! i’ll b-be good, baby, so good for you. your g-good boy… please t-touch me, need you to make me cum-”
you cover his mouth again, and finally, you take your other hand and wrap it around his heavy cock again, squeezing and dragging your fingers up and down over the thick vein that runs up the side of him. his moans hit your hand again, and you feel a little drool slip from his mouth and seep between your fingers.
“then be still, you take what i give you, okay? let me play with my pretty boy for a little…”
you take your hand off his cock, and gently ghost the sharp nail of your finger up the side of him. he twitches uncontrollably, and you can feel his groans shiver under your hand. you could feel the vibrations of his voice travel from his back against your chest, low and heated.
mingi is entranced by your cum soaked hand as it wraps around him again, slow, tight strokes up the length of his cock. he fights the primal urge to thrust his hips further into your hand, to fuck your palm in desperation. but the poor boy wants to be good for you; he wants to earn the right to cum all over himself at your hands.
all the while you litter his strained neck in wet kisses, your own pussy soaked as you feel his voice against your palm, feel his cock jump in your hand, the wet sound of the rhythmic strokes enough to make mingi feel a little embarrassed at how much pre you’ve managed to work out of his body.
his legs start to shake a little, the strong muscles of his thighs twitching under the skin. his pants grow frantic, and his chest rises and falls a little faster, his head falling back against your shoulder. you look over, and you could see his eyes starting to roll into the back of his head, his thick eyebrows knitted together in pure bliss.
“aw, is my baby about to cum for me?” you coo in his ear, and finally, you move your hand away from his mouth to let him speak.
no longer muffled, his moans come deep and unfiltered. desperate whimpers that catch in his throat when you take your free hand and teasingly massage his swollen, pink tip. your other hand continues to stroke him to high heaven, his leg starting to bounce as the pleasure spreads about his body, head to toe.
“f-fuck- baby… fuck-king me so good… hah- mmf-!” mingi drops his head again, and his whine shakes low in his chest when he sees both your hands jerking his dick so beautifully. you coo wet praises in his ear, and you watch as a drop of drool falls from his plushy, bitten lips and onto his stomach.
“g-gonna c-cum, for you…” he whimpers, and he can’t help himself as his hips buck upwards, his dick so wet he just slides right through your hands with disgusting ease.
you click your tongue and sink your teeth into his shoulder, dragging a pained whine from his chest. “oh, baby. didn’t i tell you not to move? you were doing so good for me…”
mingi panics, stopping his hips with quite the struggle, crying out pathetically while he forces himself to let you do the work. “‘m sorry! please d-don’t stop, i’m being a good boy mami, i am. it's just so good, you’re s-so good to me baby…”
he sounds so wet, and wrecked, and pathetic. every twitch of his heavy cock signals as he gets closer to cumming, and really, you just want to hear him fall apart.
“if you wanna cum then ask me nicely. look at me.” mingi turns his head to look at you next to him, and it makes your cunt clench around nothing. those pretty little puppy eyes, watery, sad, and desperate. his wet, puffy lips tremble, parted in low, sweet moans. his skin is flushed, and his brows rise and fall with his chest. he looked so pretty.
immediately, he presses his lips to yours and moans loudly into your mouth, his tongue filling your mouth as he begs and murmurs against your lips. “p-please.. make me cum, please-please-please, i’m begging you, baby. use me, use me. please, wanna cum for you-”
he kisses you so messily, his pleas muffled around your tongue, drool stringing between your lips in a filthy exchange.
“okay baby.” you whisper against his lips, focusing all the movements of your fingers around his sensitive, swollen tip, playing with it like a joystick. he pulls away from your mouth with a wet smack, dropping his head and moaning broken and whiny as he watches you work his cock without mercy.
“cum for me, make a mess all over yourself.”
mingi bucks his hips, his stomach rolling as a long string of high pitched groans fall from his lips. his cock, warm and swollen, twitches in your hand, before he spills all over himself. thick ropes of hot cum spurt all over his stomach, landing on his chest in pretty milky strings.
you stroke him slowly, milking him for every drop he’s worth, his pretty grumbles and whines spurring you on further as he cums all over himself.
“shit… baby. fffuck me… thank you, t-thank you…” mingi’s heavy breaths make your stomach clench, the visible heaves of his big, strong, sweaty chest, the wet trail of drool that drips down the corner of his mouth. the dazed, fucked out look in his eyes makes you want to ride his pretty face until your legs give out.
you kiss his cheek and finish him off with a teasing squeeze to his tip that has his eyes scrunching in painful overstimulation. “such a well behaved boy.” you praise, and you could feel him shiver against you.
mingi’s softening cock sits on his thigh, still so big even when he isn’t rock hard.
“mm, wanna make you c-cum, mami.” he whispers to you, shakily moving from between your legs and gently urging you onto your back on the bed. “wanna eat your pussy, please? can i?”
he asks you so nicely, dragging his big sweaty hands up the outer flesh of your thighs, kissing up your legs like you were his goddess.
you reach down and card your fingers through his soft, messy hair, and he all but purrs against your thigh when you massage his scalp. “of course, honey. i miss your mouth.”
he grins, overjoyed as he offers no restraint, spreading your thighs pretty and wide and suctioning his mouth to your soaked clit with a hungry moan that travels up your spine. your back arches and you watch as he still manages to grind his poor overstimulated cock against the edge of the mattress.
he could never seem to get enough, always so greedy.
tags/genre: college au, frat au, sneaky link, jealousy, phone sex, dirty talk, pet names, seonghwa's real filthy in this one sorry y'all
word count: 5.8k words
synopsis: you've never been able to stand park fucking seonghwa. he was a walking red flag and somehow everyone was still obsessed with him, ever since freshman year. even when you steered clear of him, he found his way under your skin. and, well ... your sheets ...
notes: 18+ content (mdni!). I CAN'T BELIEVE IT Y'ALL WE FINALLY FINISHED THE FRAT!TEEZ SERIES HERE'S OUR GRAND FINALE
“you can’t say excuse me?” you glare after the girl that tosses a dirty look at you over her shoulder on the way into the kitchen. with a shake of your head, you take a sip of your drink and prop up against the table where hongjoong’s dj setup is in full swing. he glances over at your sour expression and chuckles, his fingers focused on adjusting the incoming song.
“not funny!” you scold, trying not to match his smile. “this is the last time i let you drag me out with your little frat boys.”
“oh, come on,” hongjoong says, pride swelling in his chest at the sight of the crowded living room enjoying the transition he plays. “you might just need another drink.”
“maybe,” you sigh, glancing into your near-empty solo cup and back at him. “you want a refill?”
“the usual.”
en route to the counter littered with cheap vodka and mixers, you bob along to the song playing from the living room when someone else nudges your shoulder in the narrow hallway.
“seriously,” you snap, sober as ever when you turn to the culprit. a pair of deep brown eyes stare back at you, paired with an arched eyebrow and lazy grin at the way you snap.
“easy,” the stranger says, backing up with his hands thrown up in surrender. “accident.”
“sorry,” you grumble quickly, turning on your heel for your much-needed refill. you hear footsteps behind you and glance up as you absentmindedly measure out two shots’ worth with a splash of sprite for each of you.
“can i get some of that?” the same guy reaches around you, his arm brushing against your waist as he reaches for the bottle of citrus vodka you’d set down. he doesn’t bother with his solo cup, instead preferring to tilt his head back and let the liquor pour straight down his throat.
you felt like a female bird watching him.
“so,” he swallows, clearing his throat with a low groan at the burn from the ethanol. “haven’t really seen you around here before. you’re hongjoong’s friend, right?”
“mhm,” you reply simply, about to take a swig from your mixed drink when you opt to do the same as him and knock back a shot from the bottle itself.
“i see.” he nods, his eyes slightly hooded from the intoxication. “well, you should come around more. we’re a good time.”
“are you?” you challenge, tilting your head inquisitively. you knew his type—they came a dime, a dozen. ridiculously attractive, smooth talker, good drinker. the buzz humming along your veins encouraged you to drag him into one of the bathrooms and jump his bones, but your rationality was front and center and you knew better than to indulge.
“i like to think so.” he chuckles. “at least, i am.”
“confident, are we?”
“i try.”
“you got a name?” you ask, picking up hongjoong’s drink along with yours by the rims with manicured fingers.
“seonghwa,” he answers, “you?”
you offer your name and he repeats it, the sound rolling off of his tongue like honey as you nod in confirmation. “i’ll see you around.”
“dude, who the fuck is that?” you ask in a panicked rush when you hand hongjoong his replenished drink. he looks up, tugging his headphones away from his ears and around your neck when he looks at you in confusion.
“seonghwa?” he follows your gaze to the far end of the room where the charmer in question was tangled in a group of girls, some you recognized from sororities and others from class. “i wouldn’t try it. he’s messy.”
“isn’t he supposed to be your brother?” you ask, referring to their ranks in the atz frat.
“sure, but i’m also your friend. and i’m telling you, watch yourself.”
“hm.” you hum and watch as he charms another one of the girls that inches closer and closer to his lap in a fit of forced giggles. he drapes an arm around her waist, his fingertips ghosting over her exposed skin at the hem of her baby tee when he manages to catch your gaze from across the room. he stills, locked on you for more than a second before a half-smile graces his features and he turns back to the girl nearly on top of him. "maybe you’re right.”
“maybe?!” hongjoong scoffs, letting the rest of the playlist run on auto while he leads you away from the booth and into the center of the living room. “he’s my vp. i’d be worried if i didn’t know the guy.”
“fine, fine,” you grumble, letting the music take over as you sway along with him to the dancehall tune that transitioned in. even with hongjoong’s warning, your eyes remain locked on seonghwa’s against your will.
he doesn’t stop looking at you, either.
you’re not entirely sure how you get home that night, your arms linked through your girlfriends’ as you stroll back to the dorms. it’s well past two in the morning when you finally make it into bed, taking off your makeup haphazardly with micellar water and throwing on an old tshirt in exchange for your crop top and shorts.
when the room finally stops spinning and you’re about to fall asleep, your phone vibrates beside you and you grab it with blurry eyes.
unknown sender: so i might have stolen hongjoong’s phone to get ur number
you sit up, somewhat alarmed by the sudden text. your brain is foggy as you fight to replay the night’s events when one person in particular comes to mind and you scoff, now fully awake.
me: you wanted my number that bad huh
seonghwa: maybe
seonghwa: acting like u weren’t staring at me all night
me: man fuck off
me: how would u know if u weren’t staring back at me
seonghwa: okay fair
seonghwa: you’re bad what can i say
you don’t answer him after that, knowing better than to egg him on when you should be fast asleep. you make peace with your decision when he has your phone vibrating yet again.
seonghwa: wyd
me: it’s almost 3am what do u think
[incoming call: seonghwa]
“what the—” you sit up in shock, pushing your hair out of your face with surprise etched across your face. it rings, rings, enough until you nearly miss the call before you hit answer impulsively.
fuck.
“hey,” you hear him say, his voice notably deeper and more throaty than it was earlier during the party. “didn’t think you’d answer.”
“you know, me either,” you admit, glancing across the room at your mirror as if he was able to see you. “what do you want?”
“couldn’t be that tired if you kept texting me back,” he challenges and you roll your eyes knowing he’s partially right. as much as you were exhausted, the lingering intoxication and the temptation of feeding into his little game kept you from sleep.
“maybe you’re just keeping me up.”
“i can think of a few other ways to keep you up.”
“like what?”
girl, why the fuck would you ask that?
you hear seonghwa chuckle. the sound is dark and intoxicating and you hate that you’re attracted to it. still, you listen for his response.
“i’ll tell you the next time we talk.”
“bold of you to assume there’s a next time.”
“bold of you to think there won’t be.” before you can reply, he interjects quickly with a, “sleep tight” and the call ends.
“oh, boy.” you stare at your lock screen until it fades to black before throwing the phone aside and willing yourself to stop ruminating on filthy thoughts before you’re able to fall asleep.
hongjoong is utterly shocked by the fact that you want to come back out to the atz house the following weekend.
“you never want to come to our house,” he scolds, eyes narrowed as he tries to deduce your motives. “you usually just meet us downtown. why the sudden change of heart?”
“i don’t know,” you grumble pathetically, tapping your feet against the legs of your chair. the university center is mostly quiet by that hour of night, meaning it was the perfect time for you and hongjoong to catch up and get through any last-minute assignments. “just had fun.”
“that feels like a stretch, but alright.” he looks at you over his glasses suspiciously before returning to his lab report. you do the same, absentmindedly scrolling through your assigned articles and trying not to distract yourself with the instagram window open to seonghwa’s profile.
you show up late to the next party when it’s already in full swing, crowded and thick with the scent of cologne and smoke. you can barely smell the remnants of your floral perfume by the time you make it through the front door and shove your way towards hongjoong’s setup. your fingers fidget with the hem of your micro skirt as you take a swig of his drink without permission.
“what the fuck is that?” you spit, trying not to choke on the bitter liquor.
“whiskey,” he answers, arching a brow at you with a laugh. “you don’t like dark. i don’t know why you didn’t look at what it was first.”
“oh, fuck,” you cough, handing the disgusting drink back to him and waving him off so that you can get yourself a mix from the kitchen. as expected, seonghwa is already there and propped up against the counter beside the drinks. he’s speaking with one of the other atz boys and you pretend not to notice, focused on securing a drink even when you feel his gaze shift towards you.
“hey,” he says, lifting a hand to greet you. mirroring his wave, you smile at his friend and slip back out of the kitchen without another word. you knew how to handle him better tonight. you weren’t going to let him get under your skin.
the pregame is unbearably crowded as it nears midnight, hongjoong’s bass-heavy mix resounding against the thin walls when your back hits the sheets. seonghwa groans, the sound more akin to a low, feral growl when his lips crash onto yours. he hisses when you snake your hand under his shirt to rake your nails across his back, clutching your throat between his fingers in response.
he groans against your lips and you sink deeper into his sheets as you capture his tongue between your lips and suck on it with a hum of your own. you can feel him grow hard beneath the confines of his jeans and arch your hips just enough to grind against him.
every bone in your body was screaming that this was an absolutely terrible idea. you knew that you were getting hooked on something that would be incredibly difficult to get off of, but you didn’t stop. instead, you drag him in by your nails digging into his skin and let him bite down on your neck.
“oh, shit,” another voice interjects suddenly and you shove seonghwa aside, sitting up with wide eyes. yeosang stands in the doorframe, his hand outstretched to seonghwa’s desk beside the door.
“what’s up?” seonghwa asks, clearly frustrated as he threads a hand through his hair beside you.
“just needed to grab your charger,” the younger man answers, trying not to look at you as he grabs the wire and shuffles away. “sorry, y’all.”
“i think we’re gonna need to continue this later,” seonghwa laments, glancing at his own phone that was tossed onto the sheets before he had you under him. “looks like we’re heading out soon.”
“you know, i think i’m good.” you weren’t good. you were desperate for him to keep touching you, to drag his tongue over every inch of you and whisper something filthy to you in that deep voice of his. even then, you knew better than to show all your cards from the jump and feigned nonchalance as you slipped off of his bed and onto your feet. “i might actually head out now, anyway.”
“oh,” seonghwa answers, not saying much after that. “okay, cool.”
“cool.”
you run into hongjoong as the crowd begins to thin in the living room, his gaze trailing over every inch of you suspiciously in silent question as to where you were. you blink back at him with an innocent smile.
“i’m gonna head home,” you tell him, ignoring his pleas—along with some of the other brothers—to come downtown with them. “i’m tired! i have a lot to do tomorrow. next time, i promise.”
you’re all but two blocks down when you curse under your breath, realizing you’d left your bag by hongjoong’s setup. you turn back and head to the atz house, watching the row of ubers pull out while you reenter the living room.
“oh! hey, sorry.” you’re greeted by two men on the couch, one you vaguely recognize as an atz boy and the other you’re unfamiliar with. they’re sat with drinks in hand, trap music playing at a lower level from the speakers in the corner while they chat about something you didn’t catch. “i just think i left my bag behind.”
“go look,” they answer, glancing around the room and between the cushions in an attempt to help. the one you don’t recognize has his eyes locked on you, his lips hovering over the edge of his solo cup as he follows your movements across the room.
“i think i found it,” you say, reaching beneath hongjoong’s table for the small black shoulder bag. you straighten, tugging your skirt lower before turning to the pair of them. the atz boy is whisked away with a sudden phone call, leaving you to the stranger’s devices. “you know, you look kind of familiar.”
“chem lab?” he offers and you rack your brain when you finally realize who he is.
“hyunjae, right?” he nods with a soft smile.
“you’re not going out?” he asks, his eyes flickering to the crowd that’s nearly gone from the front yard. you shake your head. “if you’re down, we’re just chilling here for a little before i head out.”
“y’know, why not,” you concede, setting your bag beside him and resting your hands on your hips. “what are you drinking?”
he offers the cup to you and you take a sip, more tentatively this time after the straight whiskey from hongjoong. it’s a sweet concoction, something tropical with tequila that you could get behind. he laughs at the way your eyes light up in approval, pushing himself off of the couch.
“i’ll go make another,” he laughs. “you can have the rest of this one.”
you blink up at him, suddenly aware of his well-defined muscles and the way his frame hovers over you. even though you’d only seen him in passing, you weren’t blind. he was incredibly handsome and you’d heard nothing but good things about him. he wasn’t an atz boy, but he was still involved in greek life with tbz.
your gaze shifts when you hear a noise coming down the stairs, meeting seonghwa’s eyes as they flicker with recognition that you were still around. he’s changed out of his pregame clothes, instead wearing loose gray sweats and a black compression shirt. his hair is brushed back from his face so that you can see every bit of his face and you curse yourself mentally for the way your heart skips. he doesn’t say a word, just offers you a knowing smile while the other two boys rejoin you on the couch.
hyunjae offers to walk you back to your dorm and you oblige. hell, you’d be stupid to not let him. the warmth from his body radiates against yours, coupled with the buzz from the drink mix he’d made a handful of for you. he wasn’t shy in the way he flirted, but not nearly as shameless as seonghwa. it was obvious that he thought you were attractive and wanted to hang out with you longer.
“we should do this again sometime,” he says as you approach the door to your building, his face flushed from the alcohol and his smile wide. you giggle at his expression, about to answer when you feel your phone vibrate against your hip. “should you take that?”
“uh—” tugging it out of your pocket, you scowl at the sight of seonghwa’s name and hit decline. you turn back to hyunjae, ready to indulge him when your phone vibrates again and you roll your eyes.
“sounds like you might need to take it,” he answers, disappointment evident in his voice. “hey, take my number so we can hang out again.”
“oh, for sure,” you reply, quickly switching your phone to do not disturb so that the devil wouldn’t try to call you for the third time. he grins, saving his contact information and waving you off as you slip into your building and up into the elevator.
“what the fuck’s your problem?” you ask when you finally make it into your room, calling seonghwa with a groan.
“oh, sorry,” he says and you can tell by his tone that he’s anything but. “am i interrupting something?”
“as a matter of fact, yes,” you scold, setting your bag down and falling back onto your bed. “i was actually having a very nice conversation with hyunjae.”
“right,” seonghwa says, his words clipped before his voice dips into a lower register. “like you weren’t thinking about me the whole time.”
“don’t flatter yourself,” you say, your eyes fluttering shut as you let your buzz travel through your body. seonghwa huffs and your phone vibrates for you to switch to a video call. you’re face to face with him now, your makeup slightly smudged and your hair falling over your face while he stares at you.
“hey, baby girl.”
“who the fuck are you talking to?” you scoff at the sudden nickname. he chuckles from his spot in bed. “why didn’t you go out?”
“i dunno. i figured if you weren’t going out, there wasn’t much to look forward to.”
“don’t you get tired of using all these stupid lines?” you ask, trying to focus on the conversation at hand while you fixate on the way his tongue drags across his lower lip.
“a little,” he admits, shifting with a soft grunt that sends a shiver down your spine. “do you not like them?”
“a little,” you parrot, intoxication in your veins as you smile at him knowingly.
“you look so fucking hot right now,” seonghwa says suddenly, an evident strain in his voice.
“do i?” you ask, feigning ignorance. as much as he wanted to have you on your toes, you knew how to play his game. “and what would you have done if we didn’t get interrupted tonight?”
“don’t play dumb,” he huffs, his breathing more ragged than before. you can see one of his hands dip out of frame and you know exactly where it’s headed. you adjust yourself ever so slightly so that he has a better view of your frame, arching off of the sheets enough for him to see the curves of your waist and the hem of your skirt.
“tell me what you would do,” you order, your own breathing unsteady as you snake your hand between your legs. even through the fabric of your panties, you can already feel how wet you are.
“i’d have you bent over and take off that little skirt of yours,” he groans, the sound of his hand moving along his cock capturing your attention.
“what else?” you breathe, dipping a finger between your folds. your lips part at the pleasure that creeps along your spine as you try to keep yourself composed on camera.
“fuck you until the entire house heard you screaming my name.” seonghwa’s eyes roll back at the thought, his hips shifting against his hand. you moan at the thought and pick up your own pace, your chest heaving in response. “fuck, baby girl. let me see.”
“no,” you breathe, an evil smile hanging from your lips.
“please, baby,” he begs in a strangled breath that’s muffled by him moving his hand faster along his length.
“no,” you repeat, curling your fingers before you let out a pathetic whimper. seonghwa gasps at the sound, biting down on his bottom lip with a similar sound as he stares at you through hooded eyes.
“god, i need you so bad,” he whines. every word that slips out of him causes you to clench around your fingers, the sound of your wetness filling the room as you arch off of the sheets. “you gonna be a good girl and cum for me?”
“mhm,” you groan, your grip on your phone tightening as you massage your clit with your thumb. seonghwa’s breathing grows shallow on the other end and you can tell he’s equally as close. “fuck, seonghwa—”
“that’s it,” he praises, pupils blown wide as he stares at you when your high finally washes over you. every muscle in your body contorts from the pleasure and you gasp, shuddering from the way you buck your hips against your hand. he’s not far behind, a drawn-out moan slipping past his lips as he convulses on the other end of the line.
silence fills the room for a moment before seonghwa sighs. your vision becomes less blurry with each deep breath as you slip out of your clothes and into pajamas for the night.
“bet you hyunjae wouldn’t have you sounding like that,” he says triumphantly and you roll your eyes.
“we’re still on this?”
“just saying.”
“i don’t know if you’re allowed to be jealous,” you tease, burrowing into your sheets. “you’re not my man.”
“hm.” seonghwa doesn’t say much to that and you hate the way your stomach sinks in response.
“hm.”
you tell yourself the next weekend will be different.
of course, you’d be lying to yourself.
seonghwa has you pinned to the washing machine in the atz laundry room during the next pregame, your legs caging him in as he trails his tongue along your ear.
maybe the next weekend.
you’re on your knees in front of his desk chair, groaning as he threads his hand through your hair with a tight fist to force every inch of his cock into your throat.
after countless weekends of raunchy hookups and little progress on what the nature of your relationship was, you’d just about had your fill. as much as you enjoyed hooking up with seonghwa, watching him turn into an entirely different person in front of the crowd and entertain the girls that would hound him on the couch wasn’t exactly your favorite. he did little to ease your nerves aside from knowing that you were the one he would call at the end of the night.
you allow yourself at least one night of ignoring seonghwa for your own benefit and focus on hanging out with hongjoong and some of the other atz boys you’d become friends with. you weren’t entirely sure where seonghwa was and you couldn’t care less, to be honest. hongjoong even let you line up the tracks for his next set and the guys seemed pleased with your choices.
hyunjae shows back up to another pregame, happy to see you after bits of texting you here and there. you knew better than to close off your options with whatever was happening with seonghwa and kept in touch. he joins you beside the dj setup, in clear view of where you realize seonghwa sat with his drink in hand. he arches a brow at your defiance and takes a sip, his hand draped over the shoulders of another girl you didn’t recognize.
“you look really good tonight,” hyunjae says against the shell of your ear. you glance down at your outfit and beam at him in response. he laughs at the pride evident on your face, slipping a tentative hand around your waist so that you were pressed against his body. seonghwa’s jaw twitches from across the room and you roll your eyes, leaning deeper into his touch.
“might need to skip the club tonight,” you tease, earning a captivated glance from hyunjae when you glance up at him.
“oh, yeah?” he turns slightly, a knowing smirk on his face. “what’d you have in mind instead?”
“i have a few ideas,” you hum and he squeezes your waist with a shake of his head. seonghwa suddenly shifts from the sofa into the kitchen and you do your best not to stare after him. he resurfaces almost immediately, a bottle of lemonade vodka in hand that he carries around the room to offer shots to everyone.
he finally makes his way to you, gripping your cheeks between his fingertips so that your jaw falls slack. his own lips part as he watches you take down the shot, swallowing before you catch the drop on your lip with your tongue.
“good job, baby girl,” he says, loud enough for only you and hyunjae to hear. the man beside you stiffens slightly and you can feel his grip on your waist falter. you see red as you glare after seonghwa and excuse yourself to follow him into the kitchen.
“what was that about?” you snap, cornering him by the bottles. he turns to look at you over his shoulder with a scoff.
“what, you can’t take a joke?”
“a joke?” you spit, crossing your arms over your torso. “so, you’re not upset that i’m hanging out with hyunjae and not you tonight?”
“why would i care?” he replies, cold as ever as he fully turns to you. “we’re not dating.”
“then don’t make a scene as if we are,” you warn him, pressing a finger against his torso. “drop it.”
your words leave a sour taste in seonghwa’s mouth as he watches you exit the kitchen. with a disbelieving laugh, he heads back into the living room and pulls one of the girls from the couch up the staircase that leads to the bedrooms. she giggles after him, loud enough to garner attention that quickly turns into comments from the crowd.
you glare after him and look at hongjoong who’s already staring at you apprehensively.
“i don’t know what’s going on, but don’t—”
“hey, your spare charger’s in your room, right?” you ask, looking down at your phone dramatically. “my phone’s literally about to die. i’ll grab it before we go out.”
“god,” hongjoong sighs, fiddling with the last few tracks in his dj set while hyunjae looks after you in confusion. rage fuels your movements as you hurry up the stairs, down the hall to where seonghwa’s bedroom was. as much as you knew it was crazy, you throw the door open, ready to give an excuse that you were in the wrong room.
seonghwa stares back at you, a stupid fucking grin on his face as he taps along his sheets.
“where’s the girl?” you ask, abandoning your poor excuse that you were looking for a charger. he shrugs, pointing down the hall to where the bathroom was.
“she said she wasn’t feeling well so i told her to have her friends meet her upstairs in the bathroom. she’s been pretty wasted for a while.”
“so, nothing happened?” you ask tentatively, your heart hammering in your chest when seonghwa stands from his bed and moves to shut the door behind you.
“would it bother you if it did?” he asks, his palm pressed against the door so that you’re caged under his arm. you swallow, your eyes meeting his.
“no.”
“fucking liar,” he growls before grabbing you by the throat and pulling you into a hungry kiss. you groan under his touch, at the way his tongue becomes entangled with yours while his free hand pulls you against every inch of his body. it was like clockwork, for you to let him ruin you and have you screaming his name. something about this time felt hollow and you still, shifting out of his grip with a bleak stare at him.
“i’m not fucking doing this, seonghwa,” you tell him, unbothered by the way his face falls. “i’m over it.”
“you knew what this was,” he answers, gesturing between the pair of you. “don’t start acting like we’re dating.”
“then don’t fuck me like we are,” you snap, throwing your hands above your head in exasperation. “stop acting like someone’s committing a crime by flirting with me if you really don’t give a fuck.”
seonghwa’s jaw tightens and he scoffs, brushing his hair away from his face. “you think i care who you flirt with?”
“you act like you do.”
“i could care less.” his words are cold, but it’s nothing you don’t expect. you roll your eyes and shove past him so that you can leave his room when he grips your wrist.
“let go,” you order, yanking your arm against his restraint. he doesn’t budge, instead pulling you back so that you collide against his body. he holds your gaze and you glare at him, your chest heaving from a mix of anger and anticipation. “i said, let go.”
“you really want me to?” he tests, snaking a hand between you so that he can dip past the hem of your jeans and into your underwear. his fingertips prod against your clit, dragging the wetness from between your folds around it in slow, tantalizing circles. “doesn’t feel like it.”
you don’t answer, a strangled moan slipping out of you as your knees buckle and you grip his biceps to steady yourself. he lets out a satisfied hum at how easily your resolve crumbles and you grit your teeth, begging every fiber of your being not to lean into his touch.
“you’re such an asshole,” you groan, your head falling onto his shoulder with a shaky breath.
“i know,” he answers, guiding you back onto his bed so that he can bury his fingers inside of you. a pathetic whimper slips out of you and you grab at his shoulders, allowing him to tear your jeans off with his free hand. he slips in a third and you nearly see stars, biting down on your bottom lip hard enough to draw blood so that you can remain quiet.
“let ‘em hear you, baby girl,” he coaxes, pumping his fingers at a steady rhythm as he buries his face in your neck with a groan. you reach for him with a shaky hand and palm him through his jeans, nearly laughing at the fact that he was rock hard beneath your touch.
he growls at the contact and picks up the pace of his fingers, curling and angling his hand so that he can create a delicious friction against your walls. you pant under his touch, your nails dragging over every inch of exposed skin with your free hand when he bites down on your earlobe.
“a-ah!” you cry out, unbothered by how loud it might have been as your orgasm threatens to spill over.
“cum for me, baby,” seonghwa orders against your ear, his breath hot and staggered as he drags you closer and closer to your release. you finally succumb to the wave of pleasure with a cry of his name, gripping his shoulders and shuddering from the way your body convulses. he doesn’t give you a moment to catch your breath before he shoves his jeans off and positions himself at your entrance.
“oh my god,” you gasp as he bottoms out inside of you without warning. you arch off of the sheets and into him as he wraps an arm around your waist to hold you steady. seonghwa grips your wrists above your head with his free hand, his hips pounding against your relentlessly. the bed creaks beneath you and hammers against the wall it’s set against, enough that you’re sure someone had to have noticed by now.
“you think somebody else is gonna fuck you like this?” he pants, his grip tightening on your wrists as he lowers himself to bite down on your nipple with a groan. you cry out from the sudden jolt of pleasure and writhe under him, desperate to be freed from his grip as your chest heaves against his tongue.
“fuck,” you whimper, your body growing sore from his force as he moves back up to bury his tongue in your mouth. you let out a string of incoherent sounds against his lips as he shifts your hips so that he can thrust even more deeply into you.
“you’re gonna make me cum again,” you mutter breathlessly, ready to fall apart from a second orgasm when he suddenly stills. he flips you over so that you’re on your hands and knees and he’s able to grip your ass before shoving himself back into you.
“you feel so fucking good, baby girl,” he groans, his fingers pressing hard enough into your hips that you’re sure he’ll leave bruises. you clench around him, pulling him in deeper until you feel his pace begin to falter. “i’m gonna—”
he’s unable to finish speaking when his orgasm spills over and he falls limp over you, twitching from the way he releases inside of you until it’s dripping down the back of your thighs. you fight to steady your breathing as he pulls away, offering you towels to get cleaned up before you adjust your clothes and glare at him from the edge of his bed.
“i wasn’t kidding,” you scorn, “i’m not doing this fuck shit anymore.”
“what, you want to date me?” seonghwa laughs dryly, crossing his arms over his torso.
“why would i? you don’t know anything about me other than that you like fucking me.”
“i know that you like tulips and hate when people throw them away before waiting for them to open,” he points out, referencing one of your late-night conversations. “you wanted to be a marine bio major but your parents said you should do bio instead to be safe. you hate when your iced coffee gets watery so you get iced coffee with no ice half of the time. which is fucking weird, by the way.”
you stare at him silently, nothing but the sound of the muffled music from downstairs filling the room. your brain hurts from trying to decipher what it was that seonghwa wanted, and more than anything, what you wanted.
somewhere in the late night hookups and the petty attempts to make one another jealous, you had gotten sucked into actually starting to care about him. care about what he thought and how he felt about what you did.
“that’s cute,” you say, trying to mask your emotional turmoil with as deadpan a tone as you could muster, “but you’re right. let’s just drop it.”
“agreed.”
you both stare at one another without another word, trying to pick apart each other’s minds with a single glance before there’s a call from downstairs for all of the atz brothers to gather in the kitchen for a round of shots.
“that’s your cue,” you say, shoving yourself off of his bed. seonghwa looks after you as you leave his room to head back to the living room, unmoving as a deep sigh slips past his lips.
Summary: A stubborn bedframe. A competitive game. One nerdy, shy guy and a bold girl who knows exactly what she’s doing. Between lingering touches, stolen glances, and rising heat, every brush of skin begs the question: who’s really winning, and how far can desire sneak in before it’s too late?
Warnings: Explicit sexual content (18+), Switch!Yunho × Switch!Reader (#switch yunho supremacy), Sexual tension & adult situations, Power dynamics (mild dom/sub energy), Language / sexual innuendo, Post-intimacy tenderness / aftercare, Emotional vulnerability / confession, Oral (male receiving) Unprotected sex (no condom or pregnancy mention), Squirting / overstimulation, Biting, scratching, and marking, Alcohol and marijuana use (consensual / recreational), Corruption kink (soft / emotional focus).
Word Count: 10k
a/n: okay listen 😭 i’ve been proofreading the most emotionally devastating chapter from the san fic and it’s been wrecking me beyond repair. so i needed to write something completely emotionless and brain-empty to survive 😌✨
and like... yunho’s been bias-wrecking me for months now (seonghwa, babe, be careful). he’s just so CUTE??? i’m so weak for him 😭 i had to let him be a mess for a bit.pretty much porn w a sprinkle of plot (but is the plot even important? no. no it’s not).
we all love nerdy yunho.
pls enjoy this mess <3
✨ general taglist open! ✨
if you want to be tagged in my upcoming fics (or just keep up with whatever i post next), feel free to comment or send a message 💖
masterlist
y/n sank to her knees, blinking up at the tangled mess of metal, screws, and vaguely threatening wooden panels strewn across her bedroom floor. The instruction manual lay open beside her, a small, innocuous stack of papers that might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. Wasabi, her black German shepherd, sprawled at the foot of the mattress she’d been sleeping on for the last month, tail thumping faintly against the floor as if marking time in solidarity. A faint, upbeat pop playlist drifted from her speaker, the spring breeze drifting lazily through the open window, carrying the scent of fresh grass and distant blooms.
It had been a month of mattress-on-the-floor existence. Tight budget, too many bills, and the stubborn pride that had kept her from asking anyone for help—or from buying the bedframe she now owned. But finally, a Saturday with nothing to do: no work, no responsibilities, no emails, no social obligations—just y/n, her music, her dog, and a bedframe waiting to be built. It should have been simple. Peaceful. Calm.
Except it wasn’t.
She groaned, attempting once again to wedge a metal rail into a wooden slot that clearly didn’t want to cooperate. Her hands shook slightly from the effort, and the cold water bottle on the floor beside her offered silent encouragement—half-empty, neglected, patient. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, “I can do this. How hard can it be?”
The answer, as it turned out, was very hard.
y/n had been too confident to follow the instructions. Manuals were for the timid, for people who wanted to do things by the book. She, on the other hand, had instincts. And instincts, apparently, were now conspiring against her. Screws rolled away in tiny metallic arcs, panels stubbornly refused to line up, and at one point she swore she heard the bed muttering passive-aggressive complaints in her direction.
She slammed a panel down with a huff, hands curling into fists. “Okay, maybe… maybe I do need help,” she admitted aloud, more to Wasabi than anyone else. The dog’s ears twitched but he didn’t look up, utterly unimpressed by her domestic struggle.
Her phone buzzed beside the water bottle. A text from Yunho, her closest friend.
“Saturday plans?”
She stared at it for a long beat, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and curse at the universe for perfect timing. Yunho—tall, impossibly handsome, quietly magnetic, nerdy as hell—was the kind of person who made you want to spill secrets you didn’t even know you had. And she did know she wanted help. His kind of help.
Smirking, she typed back:
“Actually… yeah. I could use a hand with something.”
And just like that, her serene Saturday teetered on the edge of chaos—and something far, far more dangerous.
y/n groaned again, yanking a stubborn metal beam into place only to have it slip again, clanging against the floor with a sound that made her teeth grind. She flopped back onto the floor for a moment, letting out a dramatic sigh that probably registered as theatrical despair to anyone passing by.
Her phone buzzed. She snatched it up, heart doing a tiny skip when she saw Yunho’s message:
“I’ll be there in 30.”
Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to keep herself from losing her mind, thirty minutes to stop the bed from winning, and thirty minutes for Wasabi to continue his silent mockery. The black German shepherd lifted his head lazily and gave a slow blink, tail wagging just enough to feel like a smirk.
Her music, once a cheerful soundtrack to a productive morning, had turned into a relentless background hum, driving her further toward frustration. She swatted at the speaker like it had personally betrayed her.
Her tank top strap had started its own rebellion, constantly sliding down her shoulder. She yanked it up again, muttering, “Stop it! Behave!” Her hair, twisted up in a claw clip, had gone rogue too; a few rebellious strands framed her face, sticking to her damp skin. Her oversized jeans slid down just enough to settle comfortably on her hips, the rough fabric bunching awkwardly, while her bare feet shifted against the hardwood. She was sweating slightly from effort, skin warm and flushed, completely natural, completely raw—no bra, no makeup, just her and the domestic chaos around her.
She sighed, rolling her shoulders. Thirty minutes. Plenty of time to drive herself insane, to curse at screws, and to start considering whether sleeping on the floor wasn’t so bad after all. Wasabi yawned, stretching beside her, practically judging her flailing arms with every movement. y/n gave a rueful grin. Yeah, yeah… I know.
y/n groaned for the third time, yanking uselessly at the stubborn metal rail, when a sharp knock at the front door made her freeze mid-motion. Her feet slid across the hardwood as she pushed herself up, brushing at her sweat-damp hair. Frustrated, tired, and thoroughly defeated, she shuffled to the door, trying to ignore the ache in her arms and the sharp annoyance of a strap that had once again betrayed her.
She opened it.
Yunho stood there, as impossibly perfect as ever, framed in the doorway like he belonged in some effortlessly handsome poster for “Nerdy Boyfriend of Your Dreams.” His blue-and-white plaid shirt was casually untucked over wide jeans, glasses perched just right, and a six-pack held in one hand. His eyes met hers, and he smiled softly, lifting the beers in a quiet, almost shy gesture. “I thought we might need these…”
y/n blinked, momentarily speechless. Then she laughed, taking the beers from him, opening the door wider. “You know me too well,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.
He removed his shoes, following her around her apartment with the careful, almost puppy-like attentiveness she’d come to adore. She settled the beers in the fridge and turned to him, offering, “Want something to drink?”
“Water’s fine,” he said simply, his voice soft, calm—but she noticed the faint flush creeping up his neck anyway.
She handed him a cold glass, and he accepted it with a grateful smile, taking a small sip before asking, “So… what do you need help with?”
y/n’s cheeks flushed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She tilted her head toward the bedroom, voice barely above a whisper. “The bedframe…” Her fingers absently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face as she led him forward.
Yunho froze at the threshold. The scene before him looked less like a bedroom and more like a covert operation gone sideways: the mattress lay abandoned on the floor, metal rails and screws scattered like clues across the hardwood, sheets and pillows piled haphazardly in the corner, and the instruction manual spread open as if daring them to solve the mystery. Wasabi perched on the edge of the mattress, eyes narrow, silently judging their every move.
He hesitated for a beat, almost like he’d stepped into a place he wasn’t meant to see. He’d been countless times to her apartment, but never into her bedroom. Part of him felt like he was intruding, like some unspoken boundary had been crossed.
But y/n’s gaze met his, playful and expectant, and the nervous tension dissolved into purpose. She needed his help. And he would do anything for her.
“Okay,” he said finally, setting his glass down and rolling up his sleeves. The nervous flush lingered across his cheeks, but his hands were steady, precise, ready to tackle whatever she needed. “Let’s fix this.”
y/n stepped back to give Yunho some space, letting him take the lead. “Alright,” she said, smirking, “I trust you. I bow to your superior… screw-fitting skills.”
He adjusted his glasses, the faintest pink tinting his cheeks, and cleared his throat. “Well… it’s not that complicated, but, um, it’s easier if we follow the steps in order.”
Yunho knelt on the floor, carefully aligning the metal rail with the wooden slot. y/n crouched beside him, stretching her arms over his to help guide the piece, letting her body brush against his just a little longer than necessary each time.
She let her hand linger on his forearm under the guise of helping him steady the rail, tracing a slow, deliberate line over his sleeve. Every small contact made him stiffen, and she suppressed a soft laugh at the way his jaw tensed, the faint flush rising at the base of his neck.
Leaning closer under the pretense of reading the instructions, she let the subtle warmth of her side press against his, shoulders brushing, her hair occasionally falling against the back of his neck. Each touch was casual—or at least it looked casual—but she knew exactly the effect it had.
“Careful there,” she murmured softly, her fingers brushing over the edge of his hand as she helped guide the rail into place. Yunho’s hands jerked slightly at her touch, and she allowed herself a small, secretive smirk.
Every time he tried to concentrate on the metal and screws, she found a way to make him notice her presence—slight brushes, subtle shifts of her body, the faint heat of her hair against his arm. She thrived on it, watching him fight to stay composed, knowing he couldn’t resist her closeness.
“Almost got it…” Yunho muttered, swallowing hard, trying to keep his focus, but his eyes kept flicking to her. y/n’s lips twitched as she leaned just a fraction closer, letting the subtle pressure of her body make him acutely aware of every touch.
Even amidst the chaos of screws and scattered metal, the playful tension hung between them, deliberate, teasing, and entirely electric.
Wasabi lay at the edge of the mattress, head resting on his paws, eyes half-lidded, clearly judging their every movement with quiet amusement. The music from earlier had long been forgotten; all that remained was the rhythmic clinking of metal, their quiet breaths, and the soft scrape of tools against wood.
y/n tipped her water bottle to take a sip, careful, deliberate. A few drops of condensation slid down her chin and landed teasingly against the curve of her breast. She froze for a heartbeat, noticing Yunho’s eyes flick up, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. He cleared his throat, low and deliberate, twisting the screw with exaggerated effort as if the stubborn metal demanded all his focus.
“You okay there?” y/n asked, her voice light, teasing. A faint heat crept up her neck as she let her tone carry just enough to make him question whether she was serious.
“Yeah… just… this screw,” he murmured, voice tight, almost strained. “It’s… stubborn.” His hands moved with practiced precision, but his eyes betrayed him, tracing the tiny drops that had escaped her bottle. He wasn’t looking for more than a glimpse—he told himself—but even that small glance made his chest twist with heat.
y/n’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. She set her water bottle down with deliberate slowness, letting the faint clink of it against the hardwood punctuate the moment. She swiped the next page of the manual, as if searching for the next instruction.
Her fingers lingered on the paper just a beat longer than necessary. A casual adjustment, nothing more… yet every subtle movement kept him hyper-aware of her presence, the heat of her shoulder brushing his, the faint scent of shampoo lingering in the warm air.
“I feel like,” y/n murmured, eyes on the screws but a faint smirk on her lips, “sometimes it takes a little patience… and the right angle… to make it fit.”
She let the words hang for a beat, then added with a soft chuckle, “I mean, really, who knew furniture could be this hard?”
Yunho’s fingers stiffened around the screw, his pulse skipping. He swallowed, trying to convince himself she was only talking about the rail—but the way her words had landed, and the soft warmth of her arm brushing his shoulder, made it impossible.
“Uh… yeah,” he muttered, voice tight, “it really… needs precision.”
y/n leaned closer, adjusting the rail, her side brushing his. Her arm nudged his shoulder again under the guise of helping, and she caught the subtle stiffening of his muscles. A soft, barely-there laugh escaped her.
“You’re awfully quiet for someone struggling with screws,” she murmured, smirk lingering, though her tone remained casual. “Do I make you… nervous?”
His ears flushed red, hands fumbling slightly. “I—uh—no,” he stammered, eyes darting to the screws and back to her.
She hummed, tilting her head so a stray lock of hair brushed his arm. “Hmm, sure you’re not distracted?” she asked lightly, letting the teasing hang between them. “We wouldn’t want you losing your grip… or your focus.”
“Careful,” Yunho said softly, trying to maintain composure, “we don’t want to—uh—strip this one.”
“Mm,” y/n murmured, letting her fingers linger just a heartbeat longer than necessary on his arm. “Of course not.”
The room felt warmer somehow. Metal, sweat, and the subtle, unspoken tension between them mingled, every shift of her body a reminder of how close they were. Even Wasabi lifted his head, tail wagging slowly, as if sensing the tension without knowing why.
A short while later, the chaos was finally tamed. The bedframe stood complete, sturdy and perfect, and y/n couldn’t resist collapsing onto the matress—this time flopping onto her stomach with a dramatic sigh of relief. Her arms were stretched above her head, her cheek resting against the mattress, and the softness beneath her was a welcome contrast to the hardwood she’d endured for weeks.
She lifted her head just enough to glance at Yunho, who was kneeling on the floor, carefully collecting screws and tools. Even in this simple act, he looked impossibly delicate, brows furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a thin line as if the world outside this room didn’t exist.
Her eyes traced the line of his broad shoulders tapering down to the strong sweep of his back, the way his tall, lean frame seemed even more impressive from this kneeling angle. The curve of his neck, the gentle flex of muscles as he shifted to reach a stray screw—everything about him made her pulse quicken.
There was something about him like this—normally tall, broad, and so commanding—but now on his knees, leaning just slightly toward her space, that made her chest tighten.
His usual confidence had softened into a careful attentiveness, a kind of quiet deference, and she could feel the subtle pull of it, the way his body language seemed to silently wait for her approval. Every glance he cast at her, every small shift he made to accommodate her reach, spoke volumes of a man entirely aware of her presence, his usual dominance tucked away, leaving him achingly attentive, almost… helpless in the most endearing way.
“Thanks,” she murmured softly, letting the word linger, casual yet intimate.
Yunho’s head snapped up, eyes catching hers immediately. He froze for a heartbeat, his gaze involuntarily tracing the gentle curve of her back, the line of her waist, the subtle sway of her hips as she stretched out on the mattress. The light falling through the window highlighted the soft rise of her ass against the bed, and his throat went dry before he could remind himself to look away.
Her feet dangled slightly over the edge, relaxed and bare. y/n’s lips tugged into a faint, teasing smile, almost like she knew exactly what he was seeing—and exactly how he was feeling. The room suddenly felt smaller, charged, intimate, every quiet motion amplified.
y/n let out a soft laugh, smirking lightly at Yunho’s silent, careful movements. “You know,” she said, her voice teasing, “I didn’t expect such dedication for just… screws and metal.”
She lifted her upper body onto her elbows, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow perched firmly on the mattress. Her gaze softened, eyes warm and playful, but the faint dance of her bare feet against the edge of the bed betrayed a nervous energy—anticipation, mischief, and just a touch of impatience.
“I think… we should celebrate,” she added, tilting her head slightly. “Takeout, my treat. As a thank-you for… all of this.” She gestured vaguely at the neatly stacked tools, cardboard scraps, protective foam, and empty plastic bags Yunho had spent the last few minutes carefully clearing away.
Yunho paused for a moment, his eyes flicked up at hers, a faint blush brushing his cheeks, and he nodded once, just enough to acknowledge her offer without breaking the quiet, attentive energy he always carried around her. Lips parting slightly before a soft, a nervous “Okay” slipped out.
y/n’s smile widened. Perfect. He was always so precise, so careful—and yet so vulnerable, especially in private moments like this. The contrast between his meticulous control and the subtle tremor in his movements when she teased him never failed to make her smile.
“Great,” she said lightly, pushing herself up fully now, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll order. You—keep your hands busy, Mister Neat Freak.” He chuckled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners, and set down the last stray piece of protective foam.
y/n pushed herself off the mattress, stretching her arms overhead before disappearing from the bedroom, leaving Yunho alone with the last bits of chaos. He gathered the mess into a large garbage bag, hands careful and deliberate, taking a quiet breath as Wasabi lifted his head to watch.
The black German shepherd tilted his head, letting out a low, teasing pant as if daring him. Yunho’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Hey… I’m not the one whose human leaves chaos everywhere,” he murmured, voice soft, almost conspiratorial. The dog’s ears flicked, tail wagging slowly in apparent amusement.
“Yeah?” Yunho continued, crouching closer, eyes glancing toward the empty corridor for a brief second. “Well, maybe if she actually taught you some discipline, we’d be done faster… or maybe I just like getting stuck with this mess.”
Wasabi let out a playful bark, stepping forward as if to challenge him, and Yunho leaned back slightly, hands on his knees. “Okay, okay, I surrender,” he murmured, mock-exasperated, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. The quiet room was suddenly alive with the comical duel between man and dog, soft laughter hiding behind careful composure.
Minutes later, the rustle of footsteps signaled y/n’s return. She appeared just as Yunho knelt to tie a knot in the now-full garbage bag, holding two beers in her hands. “Here,” she said, offering one to him while taking the bag from his hands with a simple, teasing, “Let me take care of that.”
They clinked the bottles softly, tilting their heads to sip, the warmth of the spring weather drifting in through the open windows making the cold beer feel even more refreshing—and somehow hotter, the physical exertion of building furniture leaving a subtle sheen on their skin.
y/n wandered toward the door with the bag, placing it there as a casual reminder to take out later. Yunho settled comfortably on the couch, legs stretched, his usual quiet, confident ease settling over him. He’d been here a thousand times, but moments like these—alone with her, small domestic tasks complete—made him feel like a silent part of her world.
y/n returned to the living room, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips as she approached the TV cabinet. She pulled out her latest video game purchase, dangling it teasingly in front of her like a prize. Her eyes sparkled with playful challenge as she looked at him.
“Want to try it out?” she asked, voice mock-innocent but full of daring, letting the competitive edge shine through. She swayed it slightly in her hand, letting the teasing energy hang between them. Yunho’s heart stuttered, the combination of her proximity, the playful challenge, and the subtle warmth still lingering from their shared work making him shift slightly on the couch, nerves and anticipation prickling through him.
By the fourth round, the coffee table was littered with the remnants of takeout—empty containers, crumpled napkins—and the faint clink of emptied beer bottles that had gone warm too quickly. The sun had long since set, and the sky outside the window was now a deep indigo, streaked with the first hints of night. A couple of lamps cast a warm, orange glow across the living room, softening the edges of the chaos around them and making the space feel smaller, cozier, and impossibly intimate.
They were laying on the couch, controllers in hand, knees brushing against each other as they hunched over the screen. Their eyes were locked on the game, expressions tight, brows furrowed with concentration. The soft ambient light made every flicker of emotion on his face more noticeable—the way his jaw tensed, the subtle twitch of his lips when he was ahead, the small, nervous laugh that always escaped him when things got tense.
The first three rounds had gone in his favor, Yunho’s precise timing and nerdy nature giving him a clear advantage. y/n had started the evening with a confident smirk, playful teasing, but now the simmer of frustration was rising. Her competitive streak, usually so controlled, was bubbling to the surface.
But at the end of the day, it was Yunho. Even when she wanted to groan and throw her controller across the room, she couldn’t stay truly mad—he was just… him. Patient, careful, nerdy, and utterly magnetic.
A mischievous spark lit in y/n’s chest. If she couldn’t beat him fair and square… well, she could certainly cheat. Just a little.
She shifted slightly on the couch, knees folding under her as she leaned closer, pretending to focus on the screen. Her shoulder brushed his, light and accidental. Once, twice. The third time, it lingered.
Yunho’s eyes darted to the side, then back to the screen, jaw tight with concentration. “Don’t,” he warned under his breath, voice low and strained.
y/n hummed, feigning innocence. “Don’t what?”
He swallowed, trying to keep his eyes on the flashing colors in front of him, his fingers tight around the controller. “You know what you’re doing.”
“I don’t,” she teased quietly, her hair brushing his arm as she leaned closer. The scent of her shampoo—something faintly citrus and clean—mingled with the warmth of her skin and the faint trace of beer in the air.
“Right,” he said, words clipped, his jaw tightening again. The tips of his ears had started to pink.
He tried to focus. He really did. But the game’s rhythm faltered under the weight of her closeness, of the soft laughter slipping past her lips every time his character stumbled. The kind that made the corner of his mouth twitch in frustration.
Then, with deliberate slowness, her fingers brushed against the back of his hand—barely a touch, but enough to make him flinch, the controller slipping in his grasp.
“Shit—!” he hissed as his combo broke, the screen flashing his defeat.
y/n leaned back, controller loose in her hands, a proud, small smile curving her mouth as her victory flashed on the screen.
Yunho dropped his head against the couch with a groan. “You cheated.”
She tilted her head, feigning confusion.“Me?”
“Yes, you,” he shot back, though his voice cracked halfway between annoyance and laughter. “You’re so—” He cut himself off, exhaling hard, rubbing a hand over his face.
y/n’s smirk softened into something warmer, quieter. She could still see the faint pink on his ears, the frustrated curve of his mouth. Reaching out, she rested her hand lightly on his thigh, her thumb brushing small, absent circles over the denim.
“Hey,” she murmured, teasing still, but gentler now. “It’s just a game.”
He turned his head slightly toward her, eyes sharp but soft around the edges. “Yeah,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected. “Right. Just a game.”
y/n let out a small hum, thoughtful, before shifting her weight on the couch. Her hand stayed on his thigh a beat longer than necessary, grounding herself before she moved. Then she pushed up onto her knees, reaching across him toward the small box on the side table near his end of the couch.
The couch dipped under her weight, her body curving as she stretched toward the table. The hem of her jeans tugged slightly, revealing the line of her lower back; the air between them seemed to fold in on itself. Yunho’s grip on the controller tightened, knuckles pale. He wasn’t sure where to look—at the screen, at his hands, anywhere but her. His breath caught despite himself, chest unmoving for a long, tense heartbeat.
y/n’s fingers brushed the edge of the box, nudging it closer until she could catch it fully. “Got it,” she murmured, her voice quiet but edged with satisfaction. She straightened slowly, careful and unhurried, as if she knew every inch of his focus was tracking her movement.
When she finally sat back beside him, the faintest smirk tugged at her lips. Yunho still hadn’t moved. His controller rested awkwardly in his hands, shoulders tight, ears flushed red.
She pretended not to notice. “Relax,” she said softly, setting the box down on her lap. “You look like you forgot how to breathe.”
y/n flipped open the box, the small sound of the hinge breaking the silence. Inside, neatly packed, lay a few pre-rolled blunts—her weekend ritual. She plucked one out with two fingers, casual but deliberate, the paper catching the warm lamplight.
Yunho watched from the corner of his eye, jaw set tight. She didn’t need to look at him to feel it—his attention, his restraint, the tension coiling beneath that calm surface.
She placed it between her lips, the motion slow and familiar, before leaning forward to reach for the lighter on the coffee table.
The click of the flame broke the silence—small, intimate, final.
The soft glow from the lamps caught the edge of her jaw, the smoke curling gently upward as she exhaled, and Yunho, still quiet beside her, pretended to keep his eyes on the TV. But he didn’t. Not really.
y/n took another slow drag, the smoke curling up between them, softening the edges of the room in its hazy warmth. Then, without a word, she turned her head, holding the blunt out toward him.
“Want some?” she asked, voice low, almost lazy.
Yunho hesitated for a second—like he was deciding if that was a good idea—but then nodded. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, the contact short, but it lingered like heat.
She didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder, her hair spilling down his arm. The scent of her lotion mixed with the smoke—sweet, heavy, and distracting.
Yunho brought the blunt to his lips, drawing in a careful, quiet breath. He needed it—not for the high, but for the stillness it offered, the illusion that he could slow the pulse that refused to calm.
Beside him, y/n shifted, her head coming to rest against his shoulder as she exhaled a lazy sigh. She felt utterly at ease, the picture of calm domestic warmth. Too close. Too easy. Too much—at least for him.
He held the blunt out for her, but she didn’t take it right away. Instead, her fingers trailed down, brushing his hand—the one still clutching his controller like a lifeline. With gentle insistence, she pried it from his grasp, their fingers brushing in the process.
The controller landed softly on the cushion beside them, forgotten. Her hand lingered just long enough to make him forget to breathe before slipping away.
For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The TV hummed quietly, the game’s bright colors casting faint reflections against the coffee table, the sound blending with the low crackle of the blunt between them.
Yunho exhaled again, smoke curling through the lamplight, fragile and wavering. He tried to focus on the ordinary—the hum of electricity, the soft creak of the couch, the rhythmic sound of Wasabi shifting in his bed nearby. But then y/n shifted again, her cheek brushing his shoulder, her breath fanning lightly against his neck, and the world narrowed back down to this. Just her. Just now.
When she finally took the blunt from him, her fingers brushed his again—a quiet, wordless exchange. She drew in, then tilted her head toward him, voice gentle and musing.
“So,” she murmured, eyes still half on the screen, half on the smoke curling between them, “do you ever… stop thinking for a bit? Like… really stop?”
Yunho took another drag before answering, the smoke escaping in a slow stream from the corner of his lips. “I try,” he said vaguely, eyes fixed on the faint glow of the TV screen. “Doesn’t usually work, though.”
She hummed, the sound small and thoughtful. Her fingers—absentminded, relaxed—drifted down to his thigh. Just tracing the seam of his jeans, following the line from his hip to his knee. Not intentional. Not sexual. Just… touch.
The kind that said she trusted him. The kind that killed him.
Yunho’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. He tried to keep still, but his muscles betrayed him—hips shifting, legs tensing. The blunt trembled between his fingers.
y/n’s gaze flicked down just in time to catch the subtle movement. The fabric of his jeans pulled tighter. Her eyes lingered, then slowly lifted to meet his.
Her voice was quiet—curious, teasing, but without malice. “…Yunho?”
He didn’t look at her. “Yeah?”
“Are you—” she hesitated, her tone dipping into something almost innocent, “—hard?”
The word landed softly, but it rippled through him like lightning. Yunho’s throat worked, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he reached forward to leave the blunt in the ashtray.
“I—sorry.” He pushed himself halfway up from the couch, words tripping over themselves. “I’ll just—uh, bathroom—” Before he could fully stand up, her hand caught his thigh—light but steady, a gentle pressure that stopped him cold.
“Hey,” she said softly, the word landing somewhere between comfort and challenge. “It’s fine.” He froze, every muscle going still. The warmth of her palm anchored him in place — not pushing, not pulling, just there.
She tilted her head, her cheeks faintly flushed, smoke and lamplight catching in her lashes. “You don’t have to run off,” she murmured, voice lower now, almost playful but not unkind.
For a moment, neither of them breathed.
Yunho’s breath stuttered, his pulse hammering beneath his skin. He looked at her like she was both danger and gravity—something he couldn’t fight even if he wanted to.
y/n’s voice softened, the teasing gone. “Hey,” she said again, this time almost a whisper, something careful threading through it. “You don’t have to be nervous.”
He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Just a small nod, uncertain and sweet and painfully honest.
Her hand, still resting against his thigh, slid upward—not with hunger, but with a slow, coaxing ease. It came to rest against his side, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt. Her touch wasn’t about taking, but about calming. A silent, you can breathe.
“Look at me,” she said softly.
He did. Big eyes, glassy and uncertain under the lamplight. The kind of look that made her heart squeeze—so much wanting in him, and yet so much hesitation.
y/n leaned in a fraction closer, letting her breath ghost over his lips, her scent wrapping around him like a warm, intoxicating cloud. Yunho’s chest rose and fell faster, every nerve suddenly humming as if she had somehow flipped a switch inside him.
The game's forgotten controller slipped from the couch cushion, clattering softly to the floor, but neither of them noticed. Laughter had evaporated into heavy quiet, the air between them crackling like a storm about to break.
Her fingers lingered in his hair, combing through the strands slowly, deliberately, grounding him while teasing his restraint. “Let me help you with it,” she murmured again, voice softer, intimate, yet full of promise.
He swallowed, the sound too loud in his own ears, eyes flicking nervously between hers. “You—you really know how to ruin me,” he muttered, voice breaking in a way that made her smile even wider.
y/n leaned closer, letting her lips brush against his cheek first, slow, feather-light kisses that traced along the edge of his mouth. She tilted her head, giving him the tiniest chance to pull back. He didn’t. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, lips parting slightly under her teasing.
Then, finally, she pressed her mouth to his, soft at first, testing, claiming. Yunho froze for a fraction, a shiver running down his spine at the contact, before a low, unsure hum escaped him. His hands twitched in his lap, hesitant, wanting to find her, to hold her, but unsure of the permission in her movement.
y/n deepened the kiss, tilting her head, letting her hand slip from his hair to his jaw, tilting his face gently, guiding him. Her lips were warm, soft, and demanding all at once, helping him let go, to just sink into her touch. Yunho’s body leaned forward instinctively, relaxing into the warmth, a quiet shiver running down his spine.
Her thumb brushed over his cheek, fingertips sliding to the nape of his neck as her mouth moved with his, soft, teasing, and urgent all at once. He let out a small, breathless moan, somewhere between startled and wanting, the rest of the world fading out.
y/n pulled back just enough to let her forehead rest against his, eyes half-lidded, lips brushing his again, whispering against them: “See? Not so hard to let go.”
Yunho let out a shaky laugh, soft and a little disbelieving, his hands finally moving on their own—brushing her sides, tracing her ribs, just to make sure she was really there. y/n felt the spark, the proof she wasn’t imagining it. He wanted her too—and that was all she needed.
Before she even realized it, she grabbed his shirt and pushed him back into the couch. It came out harder than she meant—too much heat, too much adrenaline.
Yunho’s breath hitched, his hands falling away from her sides as he flopped back against the cushions, eyes wide, lips parted, a mix of surprise and arousal flickering across his face. “y/n…” he whispered, breathless, but his hands moved instinctively, eager to keep her close.
y/n kept her eyes on him, the air between them heavy. She stayed put, straddling his lap like she owned the space. She kissed him again, slow at first—soft, teasing—before his breath hitched, and she took it further, her tongue finding his, tasting the faint salt of his skin.
Her hands slid down over his shoulders and chest, exploring without hurry, until one reached his hair. A small tug, a quiet groan from him—enough to make her grin against his lips.
She pulled back just enough to breathe, their mouths still hovering close. Her fingers stayed on his jaw, keeping him there, her eyes dropping to his lips. They were red and swollen, and she couldn’t resist—her tongue darted up in a quick, feral lick, lapping from Yunho's bottom lip to his top like a desperate animal.
Yunho trembled, a rough, broken sound catching in his throat. His hands clamped onto her thighs, desperate, like he needed the touch to stay grounded.
y/n grinned, her breath brushing his skin. For a heartbeat, she studied him—flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, a mix of shock and want—and then she kissed him again, deeper this time, all fire and instinct, nothing held back.
Their lips moved together like they’d been holding back for too long, hunger spilling out between gasps. She shifted in his lap, the move unsteady, instinctive, until her thighs caged his hips and her body fit against his like it was meant to.
Her weight shifted fully onto him now, thighs bracketing his hips, the warmth of her core pressing down through the thin barrier of her jeans against the rigid line of his arousal.
The heat of him was undeniable—his erection pressed just right against her clit through her jeans, each subtle shift sending electric jolts up her spine. y/n ground down harder, deliberate, slow rolls of her hips soaking her panties more with every passing second, the damp warmth seeping through denim as her arousal built.
Yunho shuddered beneath her, his breath hitching against her lips, a mix of raw want and shy disbelief in his tightening grip on her thighs. It wasn’t polished or controlled—just trembling, real, and so him.
Their kiss faltered, messy and breathless, half lips, half gasps. Her grinding nudged him just enough to pull a soft, whiny sound from his throat—needy, pleading, barely audible but vibrating straight to her core. Those little noises—his shaky breaths, the tiny hitches—were all she needed to know he wanted her as much as she wanted him, her pulse pounding as she tugged his hair, drawing another broken moan that made her clench tight.
The air turned thick, heavy, like the room was holding its breath. y/n broke the kiss, trailing her lips along his jaw, nipping the sensitive spot below his ear—sharp little bites that stung sweet before she soothed them with soft kisses like an apology she didn't mean.
Yunho’s breath caught, a high, desperate whine escaping as he arched into her, chasing the mix of pain and pleasure. Her mouth moved to his neck, grazing the taut skin, sucking lightly where his pulse raced, teeth dragging just enough to mark him before her tongue swirled slow, tasting the salty heat of his throat.
He loved it, god, the way his moans grew throatier, hips bucking up instinctively, pressing harder against her core—he’s so hard, the thought sparking through her, urging her to unravel him completely.
Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, working them open with deliberate slowness, each soft pop baring more of his skin—the pale expanse of his chest, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing below his navel. His breath hitched, a flush creeping up his neck like a spreading flame, and in a sudden flicker of shyness, his arms twitched up, crossing over his torso as if to shield himself from her hungry stare, the vulnerability of being so exposed almost too much.
y/n didn’t let him. She grabbed his wrists, firm but gentle, and guided his hands to her ass, pressing them against the denim. "Don't hide from me, Yunho," she said, voice low and playful, with just enough edge to make him shiver. She held his gaze, his wide, nervous eyes locking with hers—full of want but flickering with that shy uncertainty. "I want you to feel how much I want this... and I want to see every bit of you looking back at me like you can't get enough."
Her words hit him like a spark, making his eyes sharpen with a tentative heat. His fingers squeezed her ass, hesitant at first, then firmer, testing how she felt under his hands as he stared back, bolder now.
She tugged his shirt off, tossing it aside without looking, and took her time eyeing him—his chest heaving, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, eyes stuck on her like she was his whole world. “God, look at you,” she murmured, voice thick with want, breath hot against his skin.
Her lips hit his chest, kissing slowly along his collarbone, making him tremble, then nipping at his ribs, sharp enough to make him gasp. His hands gripped her ass tighter, anchoring himself. But as her mouth drifted lower, trailing wet, deliberate paths toward the waistband of his jeans, y/n began to slide down his body inch by inch—her weight shifting, her breasts brushing his thighs.
Yunho’s hands shifted—one trembling as it rested on her lower back, the other grazing her arm, light and unsure, like he was scared to hold too tight but couldn’t let go either.
Yunho’s eyes were wide, almost dazed, as y/n sank down in front of him, her movements slow and confident, her gaze locked on his—dark, intense, full of promise. Her hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with a soft clink that cut through the quiet room, then tugged down his jeans and underwear in one smooth pull.
His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving up toward his stomach, the tip already slick with pre-cum. God, he’s huge, she thought, a flicker of nerves hitting her—how’s that even gonna fit?—but it quickly turned to a thrill, heat pooling low in her belly, urging her on.
His cheeks flushed red, composure crumbling as he stared down at her, like she might disappear if he blinked. y/n’s fingers wrapped around his shaft, warm and solid in her hand, starting with light, teasing strokes—up and down, slow, her thumb circling the tip, spreading the slickness. Yunho’s hips jerked, a shaky “y/n…” slipping out, his voice raw with need.
She just smirked, wicked and knowing, leaning in to trace tiny licks along the underside of his cock, from base to tip, peppering soft kisses on the sensitive skin. His thighs trembled, little gasps escaping him, her deliberate touches unraveling him bit by bit, his hand twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to stop her or pull her closer.
Then she took him into her mouth, lips stretching around the head, the heat of him overwhelming as she moved down slow—torturously slow, every inch a tease that had Yunho’s thoughts spiraling: Fuck, she’s killing me, so wet, so warm… please, faster. His hips twitched involuntarily, but she held him steady with one hand at his base, fingers squeezing in rhythm with her descent, keeping him steady while she worked him.
Her tongue shifted with precision—broad, flat licks along the vein that made sparks shoot through him, then quick, playful flicks at the sensitive ridge just below the head, pulling a string of curses—“Shit, y/n, fuck”—before swirling lazy circles around the head, tasting the salty leak of pre-cum, each move designed to make him shake and beg for more.
y/n worked him deeper, inch by slow inch, her mouth gliding over him with agonizing patience, throat relaxing to take him in until her nose brushed the trimmed hair at his pelvis, the musky scent of him—sweat and arousal—hitting her senses hard. She hummed around his length, satisfied, the vibration pulling a ragged moan from Yunho’s chest, his body trembling under her.
Yunho's hand shook as it rose, sweeter in its instinct, reaching for her cheek—fingers brushing there with a gentle touch, thumb tracing her jaw like he needed to feel her to stay grounded in the heat of her mouth.
But y/n paused, just enough to meet his eyes with a mischievous glint, shaking her head. She caught his wrist, guiding his hand from her face to her hair, threading his fingers through the strands and pressing his palm against her scalp—a quiet nudge: grab me, move me—take what you need.
His grip tightened, testing, a shy tug that made her hum again, approval buzzing around him as she picked up her pace, bobbing faster, the sensation twisting tight in his gut.
But her mouth was too much, pulling him under fast—her throat clenching around him, the wet heat and that hum driving him wild. He couldn’t hold back, hips jerking up in shallow thrusts, an attempt to fuck her throat with a desperate edge, her gags loud and messy, like something filthy and alive.
His fingers tightened in her hair, knuckles white as he pulled her close, holding her there for a few seconds—fuck, too good, too much—her throat fluttering around him, squeezing with every swallow, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.
y/n choked around him, the sound wet and obscene, but she took it—endured the burn, tears slipping hot down her cheeks as his cock buried impossibly deep, her eyes rolling back in her head from the overwhelming stretch, nose smashed against the coarse trim of his pelvis.
But Yunho felt the coil in his gut snap tight, too close to bursting, and he didn’t want it like this—not spilling down her throat when he ached to feel her walls around him. With a rough curse, he yanked her off, pulling her hair to lift her mouth free, spit and pre-cum stringing from her swollen lips to his slick, twitching cock.
He slumped back against the couch, head dropping, eyes shut tight as he panted, fighting to hold off—not yet, fuck, breathe. y/n stayed there a moment, catching her breath, wiping her mouth, mascara streaking her flushed face. Her eyes fixed on him—wrecked, chest heaving, cock heavy and soaked—and a smirk curled her lips, feral and triumphant, knowing she’d pushed him to the brink.
She stood slowly, hooking her thumbs into her jeans, sliding them down with her panties in a careless toss, leaving her bare, skin glistening with her own arousal, ready to take him apart all over again.
She settled back onto his lap, bare from the waist down, the cool air brushing her slick thighs as she straddled him, his hard cock pressing hot against her inner thigh. Her tank top hugged her curves tight, one strap slipped down her shoulder, the other strap holding up the fabric, her nipples hard and poking through like they were begging for attention.
Yunho's head was still heavy against the couch, neck stretched out from how close she'd pushed him to the edge earlier. y/n leaned in, taking advantage, her lips finding his throat—soft, lingering kisses, open-mouthed and warm over his racing pulse.
His eyes fluttered open, hazy and dark, pulling back to her like he couldn't look away—watching how she moved on top of him, half-naked and bold, that loose strap teasing the edge of her exposed skin. But a flush hit his neck quick, that shy side peeking out as his gaze dropped to her breast, then snapped away, cheeks turning pink like he was caught staring.
It made y/n smile, soft but with a predatory edge, her hips grinding deliberate against his still-hard length, feeling him twitch. She grabbed his hands, placing them over her tank top fabric—palms cupping her breasts through the thin cotton, thumbs grazing the curve underneath her breast..
She leaned close, whispering against his lips, "Touch me, Yunho. Please." The plea wrapped in her invitation hit him hard, his breath catching sharp, eyes widening with that mix of nerves and want.
At first, he was all clumsy care—fingers shaking as they spread over her breasts through the fabric, eyes locked on hers, wide and intense, like he was trying to read every reaction on her face. He pressed tentative kisses to her shoulder, soft and hesitant. His thumbs circled her nipples slow at first, then rubbed firmer, the cotton dragging rough enough to make her shiver hard, her core clenching around nothing.
"Yunho..." she breathed out, half plea, half encouragement, and it flipped something in him—hunger taking over fast. He hooked a finger under the loose strap, tugging the tank down to free her breast fully, cool air hitting her skin sharp against the heat in his stare. No pause—he latched his mouth onto her nipple, groaning low and starved, sucking hard, tongue swirling until she hissed and arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders to hold on.
His hands got bolder, kneading her flesh, the other still teasing through the tank, kisses trailing down her sternum, under her breast—surrender turning fierce, teeth grazing light to sting, pulling a gasp from her that matched his shaky breaths.
One hand on his shoulder, nails biting into his skin for balance, the other wrapped his cock—still rock-hard, twitching desperate in her fist, slick from her spit and his pre-cum making it slide easily.
y/n teased him bad, rubbing the head along her slit slow at first, dragging up and down her wet folds, coating him in her arousal, each pass bumping her clit and sparking nerves alive.
It wrecked him—torture, his hips bucking up with a high, broken whine. "F-fuck, y/n, please," he begged, voice lewd and cracked, breaths ragged as she kept him teasing at her entrance, slicking him up until he throbbed hard, veins jumping under her palm. "You're so wet... shit, I can feel you dripping on me. Let me inside, please, I’ll fuck you so good."
She gave in finally, lining him up, the tip pushing in with a wet schlick, sinking down slowly. The stretch burned—brutal, almost too much, her walls gripping the first inches tight as she adjusted to his size, gasping sharp. Yunho moaned deep from his chest—"Ah, yes, just like that... so tight around me, fuck."
"Oh god, you're splitting me open," she panted, pausing halfway in, forehead falling to his shoulder, breathing through the full feeling, their hot breaths mixing, his whiny groans humming against her.
She rolled her hips tentative, taking him deeper bit by bit until he was all the way in, clit grinding his pelvis, heat building low again as he bucked weak, moaning messy. "Faster, please, move faster... fuck."
y/n chuckled low, husky and winning, smirking as she watched him break—eyes half-shut, mouth open with those needy whines hitting her core like fire. She loved his begging, how his shy voice cracked on her name, that sweet submissive energy twisting desperate; it made her feel in control, wanted, like she could tease him forever.
So she kept it slow—torturous, but deep and hard each time, slamming down to the base with a slap, walls squeezing him like a fist, grinding her clit while holding back the speed he craved.
"Fuck—y/n, please, faster," he begged again, hands twitching on her hips, fingers pressing bruises as he tried to pull her harder, but she pinned his wrists down with a teasing eyebrow raise, circling her hips lazy instead, dragging another whimper.
"You're killing me... so good, but—ah—I need more, baby, please let me fuck you properly." His pleas were shy-edged still, voice high and whiny, eyes pleading up at her, body trembling under her control, that nerdy hesitation making her want to push him further, draw out every whine until he was fully hers.
Yunho squirmed a little, wrists flexing under her hold, but he didn't fight it—too shy, too eager to please, his cock throbbing inside her with every slow roll, pre-cum mixing with her slick. y/n leaned down, nipping his ear, whispering, "Not yet, baby. Beg nicer."
He whimpered again, hips stuttering up helpless, face flushing deeper, the subby side shining through in his wide eyes and bitten lip. She rocked deeper, loving how he unraveled slow under her pace, his breaths coming in soft, needy pants that begged without words.
The tension built like that—her in charge, him yielding, every grind pulling more of those shy moans, his body arching just enough to chase her without overstepping. y/n's own heat climbed, walls fluttering around him, but she held the reins, savoring his desperation, making the power rush sweeter.
y/n’s teasing had pushed him to the edge, his words melting into a high whine as she lifted almost off him, leaving just the tip brushing her entrance before slamming down hard, the fullness hitting her so deep it stole her breath. Her smirk widened, catching the frustrated tears in his lashes, knowing she’d milk every desperate plea from him.
Yunho’s control was slipping, his breaths coming in rough, heavy pants, each one hot against her collarbone, edged with a low growl that vibrated where their bodies met. Then, the air shifted—he wasn’t just following her lead anymore. His hips snapped up, meeting her with thrusts that knocked the air from her lungs, a quiet fire sparking in his eyes, no longer soft but sharp, determined, claiming.
His hands, pinned under hers, flexed as her grip loosened, the overwhelming pleasure unraveling her hold. Those thrusts weren’t shy now—hard, precise, dragging his cock against her walls in a way that sparked heat low in her belly, her gasps sharp and uneven. “Y-Yunho—fuck,” she whimpered, her fingers slackening, nails grazing his wrists as her body shook, letting him thrust up harder.
His eyes darkening with a fierce edge, like he’d taken back a piece of the control she’d held so tight.
The shift hit fast. With a low growl, Yunho’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him in a blur of sweat and need. He pulled out with a wet pop, her walls clenching at the sudden emptiness, a whine escaping her as he flipped them in a messy tangle of limbs. Her back hit the couch with a soft thud, breath knocked out, legs splayed wide around his hips in a rough missionary sprawl.
He loomed over her, his broader frame caging her in, the shy, nerdy boy gone—replaced by something raw, commanding. His eyes, once wide and pleading, were now dark, predatory slits, pinning her with a look that promised to take everything she gave.
Without a word, he lined himself up, the slick head of his cock nudging her folds before pushing in slow, deliberate, both of them hissing as the stretch burned through her again. y/n’s moan broke high and needy as he sank in, filling her until his hips pressed flush, balls heavy against her ass.
Yunho groaned low, forehead touching hers briefly, their ragged breaths mixing. “Fuck,” he rasped, voice rough, sending shivers down her spine.
His thrusts turned steady, unforgiving—deep, hard, spearing into her with wet, filthy sounds, her walls gripping him tight, toes curling in the air. He teased her then, enough to make her squirm—grinding slow against her g-spot before pulling back, leaving just the tip inside, smirking as their eyes locked in a heated challenge.
“You like that, don’t you? Had me begging earlier… now you’re the one spread out, dripping for me,” he murmured, voice low and dirty, punctuated by a sharp thrust that buried him deep, ripping a gasp from her. His hands gripped her thighs hard, fingers digging in as he pulled her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his lower back. Her hands flew to his shoulders, one sliding down to scratch at his flexing spine as he fucked her harder, the wet slap of skin loud in the room.
Their eyes met—hers hazy, his sharp and consuming, like he was memorizing her falling apart—before his mouth crashed onto hers, all teeth and tongue, swallowing her moans as he pounded faster. He pulled back to bite her shoulder, sharp and possessive, groaning against her skin as he sucked a mark there, her hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, the sting melting into heat as she arched up, legs tightening around him.
The room was just them now—the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies, their breaths ragged and tangled, her arousal coating him, dripping down her thighs. Yunho shifted again, rising to his knees without pulling out, the angle deepening, making her walls flutter in protest. He lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders, his muscles taut like he was ready to pounce.
One hand held her calves steady, thumb brushing the sensitive skin there; the other found her hand, fingers lacing tight, grounding her in the intensity. His lips pressed soft, heated kisses along her ankle, trailing down her calf, nipping lightly before soothing with his tongue, eyes flicking up to hers, dark and focused, holding her gaze through the worship.
In this position, y/n was lost—screaming now, raw, broken cries tearing from her throat as he pounded harder, his cock hitting that spot inside her with brutal precision, stars bursting behind her eyes, vision blurring. “Fuck, Yunho—yes,” she gasped, back arching off the couch, her free hand clawing at the cushions.
“Look at you, taking me so good,” he growled, voice thick with dominance, no trace of the shy boy left—just raw intent, his grip tightening, eyes burning into hers as he pushed them both toward the edge, her moans mixing with his low groans, the heat between them consuming everything else.
y/n’s back arched off the couch, every nerve screaming for release as the coil in her belly wound tighter with each grind, Yunho’s eyes locked on hers, daring her to break first. “Yunho—god, yes, don’t stop,” she gasped, their clasped hands her only anchor in the frenzy, his teasing smirk shifting to something fiercer, more devoted, as he matched her rhythm, no longer just following but driving it.
“That’s it, take it,” he rasped, voice rough, eyes sharp and dark, the command edged with raw need that made her clench around him, teetering on the edge. The shy Yunho was nowhere to be seen, now bolder, more in control, his gaze pinning her as he took charge.
He felt the heat building in his gut, tight and urgent, groaning against her ankle as her walls gripped him—tight, fluttering, pulling him in with every thrust, telling him she was close, maybe closer than him. “Fuck, y/n, you're squeezing me so goddamn tight… gonna make me cum if you keep that up, but shit, I can feel you, baby, you're right there, aren't you? So close for me...”
His voice was gritty, words spilling out raw and hungry as he shifted, growling low, folding her in half under him. Her thighs pressed to her chest, knees hooked over his elbows, bodies locked tight in a mating press that pinned her down, letting him thrust deep, relentless, each wet slap echoing her choked moans.
His fingers slid between them, finding her clit swollen and slick—damn, she’s soaked—his touch gliding smooth, circling firm and fast, matching his brutal thrusts. His hips faltered, rhythm breaking as his own climax loomed, balls tight, pressure unbearable, but he held back—wanted her to go first.
“Cum for me, y/n—please, let me feel you soak my cock, I need it,” he begged, voice cracking, fingers flicking her clit faster, desperate, pushing her toward the edge. y/n was gone, babbling—“Y-Yunho, ah—fuck, I—nngh—close, oh god…”—her words crumbling into raw cries, eyes rolling back as his touch and dirty talk dragged her under. It was messy, intense, pulling them both into the fire.
She shattered first, her orgasm hitting like a wave, walls convulsing around him, squeezing so hard it felt like she’d pull him apart. Then she squirted, a hard, relentless gush, soaking his pelvis, dripping down her thighs, staining the couch.
Yunho’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face—he’d never seen that, never felt the hot, wet rush coating him, but it lit him up, raw and feral. “Fuck, that’s so hot, you’re drenching me, baby, keep going,” he groaned, words half-lost, hips snapping erratic to chase the slick heat, each thrust smoother, deeper, driving him wild.
It pushed him over—too much—and he buried himself deep with a guttural moan, spilling inside her in thick pulses, filling her until it leaked out, mixing with her slick in a messy pool. Their moans tangled, her body shaking with overstimulation under him, thighs trembling against his shoulders as aftershocks hit hard—her nerves raw, his muscles seizing, cock twitching with faint throbs that pulled low whimpers from him. He slumped forward, forehead on her shoulder, sweat-damp hair sticking to her skin, their breaths rough and uneven, the air heavy with sex and surrender.
The tremors didn’t stop, her body still quaking, walls fluttering around him, milking every last shudder. Yunho’s own aftershocks were brutal—abs and thighs tight, each pulse of his cock drawing soft, broken sounds from his throat, his dominant edge softening back into something vulnerable.
He held her close, one hand still laced with hers, the other stroking her thigh gently, grounding them both as the intensity faded. y/n’s gasps turned to soft whimpers, her body twitching with leftover sparks, while Yunho’s breaths slowed, his shy side creeping back in the way he nuzzled her shoulder, almost hiding his face.
The room quieted, their connection lingering in the shared heat, the unspoken shift between them settling like a promise.
The quiet settled around them, soft and easy, the distant hum of the city drifting in through the window like a lullaby. Yunho stayed pressed against her, not pulling out yet—just pressing against her with a boneless weight, his head resting lightly on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart slowly matching his own.
His hand lay warm on her waist, thumb tracing lazy circles over her hip, simple gestures that spoke louder than words. y/n’s fingers found his hair, brushing and combing at the nape of his neck in gentle, soothing strokes, nails scraping gently against his scalp. He hummed softly, almost a purr, a low, contented sound that made her smile against his hair.
The room felt small and quiet, the heat of their closeness lingering where sweat had dried. y/n let out a soft, breathy laugh, tilting his face up with a playful tug of a damp strand of hair. “God, Yunho… look at you,” she murmured, voice warm and teasing, her chest rising and falling against his. It wasn’t flashy or urgent—just them, together, and perfectly alive in the quiet.
His eyes cracked open, hazy and sated, but the moment they met hers, that familiar flush crept back up his neck like clockwork—the shy, nerdy boy resurfacing in full force, wide-eyed and endearingly flustered, as if the beast who'd just folded her in half and wrung screams from her throat was a stranger he'd borrowed for the night.
He ducked his head instinctively, burying his burning face against her collarbone with a muffled groan, one arm tightening around her waist like he could hide in her skin.
She laughed then, a genuine, light peal that shook them both gently, her free hand cupping his jaw to coax him back up, thumb brushing his swollen lip. "What happened to that guy? The one who had me seeing stars and begging like an idiot? Sex turns you into a total beast... but this? Cuddling up like my soft little puppy? Adorable."
Her tone was all fondness, no bite, eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched him squirm—cheeks blooming pink, a bashful smile tugging at his mouth despite himself, that boyish awkwardness making her heart squeeze in the best way.
"Shut up," he mumbled, voice thick and sleepy, but there was no heat in it, just a shy nuzzle into her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he pressed a tentative kiss there, like an apology wrapped in gratitude. "You're the one who... you know. Started it."
y/n chuckled softly, pressing her lips to his hair. “Right… I did, didn’t I?”
He lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, eyes earnest now beneath the pink haze of sleep and exertion. “I know… I know I’m… probably terrible at saying this,” he admitted, voice low and hesitant, “but I… I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you. Not just tonight, not just…” His words faltered, shy, searching her face for permission to go further. “I mean… I know from the way you are, from everything… you make me want… more than I’ve ever wanted before.”
y/n’s chest tightened, warmth blooming as she tucked her head back against him, fingers weaving through his hair. “Yunho… you don’t have to say it all at once. I… I think I’ve known that for a long time. I just like hearing it anyway.”
A quiet, satisfied hum left him, settling back against her chest, the tension of vulnerability easing. He pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone again, murmuring a shy, “I’m glad… you feel that too,” before nuzzling closer, hiding his flushed face against her skin.
No more words followed—just the steady, comforting beat of shared silence, limbs tangled loose and lazy, the air thick with trust and intimacy. The unspoken truth lingered between them like a promise, warm and indelible: whatever this was, wild beast or lost puppy, it had changed for good.
warnings: breeding, talks of pregnancy, age gap, dilf yunho, size kink, etc.
a/n: this is one of my favorites, clean up aisle- my pants !
enjoy.
The dad of the sweet little girl you babysat during the week was too much for your poor heart.
The gentle way his hands settled on your waist when he walked behind you, when you were in the kitchen making yourself a glass of water.
The lingering looks you could feel on your exposed legs when you wore shorts around his house.
The dreams you would have of him late at night, fogging up his glasses and taking everything he'd be willing to give.
The way his hands softly curled a lock of your hair around his finger when he looked down at you while you two talked, the look in his eyes, much more than attentive.
How he treated you like a sweet, chaste little girl, nibbling on the nail of his thumb, never being able to pull his eyes from you when he watched you move around his home like you belonged.
"Would you like me to reach that for you sweetheart?"
"Be careful, you could cut yourself darling."
"Bundle up, love. Or you could catch a cold."
You knew what you were doing, or at least you thought you did. But Yunho liked games, so, he played along.
You called him, "Mr. Jeong." A respectful title, one that rolled off your tongue too sultrily for Yunho’s taste.
He had a plethora of little names for you, referring to you as a little minx to his coworkers whenever they asked about how the new babysitter was faring.
He admired the way you cared for his daughter like she was your own, your smile when you played doctor with her, and your blooming creativity when she asked you to draw with her.
You were perfect in every way. Yunho's favorite part of the day was when he arrived home from work, after having put his daughter to bed. You both would share a fufilling dinner, you'd tell him about the day you and his daughter had, branch off into talks about school and how life had been treating you.
And then Yunho'd send you home, with your wage in hand and a less than innocent smile as he watched every step you took as you walked down his driveway, got into your car, and drove home into the night.
Not tonight, though; tonight was different.
Yunho wasn't home yet. You assumed he had a late-running meeting. His daughter was sound asleep in her bed, the house quiet as you were the only soul awake inside.
You wandered about as you waited for Mr. Jeong to arrive home, scrolling on your phone and passing the time.
That's when you walked past his closed bedroom door. On the second floor, the closed door beckoned to you. Yunho never really gave you any restrictions as to where you could or could not go in terms of bedrooms in the house. You were curious as to what his living space was like. Where he spent most of his time when he wasn't working, a person's room can say a lot about them.
You held your hand over the knob, listening to make sure he hadn't gotten home yet, before gripping and twisting it, pushing the door open softly.
Immediately, the smell is what you noticed first. The whole space smelled like him. Powdery, aromatic, woodsy. Fresh, clean, and sexy. The next thing you noticed was how his room looked clean, but lived in. A few ties draped over his chair near the shuttered window that overlooked the backyard pool, which you had spent many a time floating in. The open walk in closet and the ruffled sheets that hinted at a rushed morning routine.
You found yourself gravitating to his bed, sitting down on the edge, and taking in the space. Degrees laminated on his wall, a few plants placed in corners of the room, a collection of watches sitting on his desk inside an open ashwood lock box. You stood and walked to his open closet, stepping inside and looking around.
A wide array of clothes on hangers, the walk-in so large it could possibly count as another small bedroom, and miscellaneous items scattered on the top shelves. Your hands found the sleeves of one of his button-up shirts, running your fingers over the soft fabric. lost in your own little world as you intruded on your employer's space.
Click!
The sound of the closet door shutting, and before you could turn around, the room was shrouded in darkness, the light having been turned off.
Before any sound could esxape your mouth, a soft, large hand pressed over your mouth, a chest molded to your back as your front was urged against the closet wall. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, feeling undeinably big compared to you.
"Hello, sweet girl." Yunho's familar, saccharine tone dripped over your ears, and immediately you felt your body relax in his hold, and maybe the way you melted into his unexpected touch should have concerned you, but you could not find it in you to care.
"If you're looking for your paycheck, it certainly isn't in here." Even in the pitch black darkness, you could imagine the face he'd be making right now. Playful, teasing.
His hand slowly slipped from over your mouth, his fingers gently grazing your cheeks, along your chin, before finding its home at the base of your throat.
"Sorry, Mr. Jeong..." you muttered, sounding pathetic as you were unable to mask the need in your voice as you shivered under his touch. You felt his lips press against the shell of your ear, a low chuckle from him, then he pressed himself further against your back, forcing you closer to the wall.
His broad chest easily shrouding your smaller back, you felt so small in his arms and it made your blood rush with excitement. Anytime you had a conversation with him, you had to mask the giddiness in your voice when you took notice you had to physically crane your neck upward to meet his gaze. Or how when he hands you your paycheck, and his considerable, rugged hands brushed over yours.
"It's okay, sweetheart, don't apologize. You were probably just wondering where I was, weren't you?" His tone was condescending, like he knew the real answer, knew the nasty effect he had on your mind and your body.
You nodded, a barely there whimper bouncing around the dark room. Yunho groaned quietly, smiling as he pressed a whisper of a kiss against the side of your throat.
"Did you miss me?" His voice was barely a whisper, so quiet and so gentle it went straight to your gut. He felt you squirm against him, and he had his answer.
His free hand ghosted down your chest, over your stomach until it landed right above the waistband of your shorts. Unable to see anything, every part of your body felt like it was on fire. His hand stopped, waiting for you to push him off or tell him no. Instead, you pushed your hips back so your ass rubbed against his crotch, a hiss escaping his lips.
So he let his hands slip beneath your shorts, his fingers finding your embarrassingly soaked cunt. "Oh, baby..." he moaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers spreading your lips open beneath your panties, a soft whine hitting his ears as you keened into his touch. He inhaled deeply, sighing at your sweet sugary perfume that curled around his senses, and he felt lightheaded.
He slipped his fingers up your slit, the wetness so profound you could both hear it in the silent confines of the closet, and Yunho thought his brain was going to short-circuit.
"So fucking cute," he murmured, cooing when his fingertips slipped over your clit and you gasped at the sensation. Quickly, he turned your body around so your back was pressed against the wall. He fumbled in the dark until his hand found the light switch, flicking the light back on.
His cheeks were flushed and his pupils were blown wide, breathing heavily with a look in his eyes that was so far from pure you weren’t even sure if you were looking at Mr. Jeong right now.
He swallowed your lips in a filthy kiss as his hands rushed to pull your shorts down your legs, letting the fall to the soft carpeted floor. His fingers were back on you, trailing a ghost of a path from your bellybutton, over your mound, then slipping between your lips coating themselves in your arousal. He circles your entrance teasingly, grinning when you gasped at his touch. His fingers were freezing cold.
Languidly, taking his sweet time, Yunho slid his soft fingers inside your cunt. Yunho's fingers were long, perfectly so they sat against that spot inside of you that made you arch into him, your moans breathless as you felt him inside of you.
Your hands gripped his shoulders as his other hand slipped beneath your thigh, urging you to follow.
"Jump," he whispered against your lips, and you did. He pressed his body against yours, holding you to the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist, his fingers curling as he stretched you open, moving in deliberate, perpetual patterns deep inside of you.
You moaned around his tongue as he let it slide over yours, his kisses greedy and sloppy, fingers circling over your G-spot tantalizingly slow, but with just enoguh pressure that your thighs shook around him.
"You're so sweet, baby." Yunho pulled his lips from yours, kissing the corner of your mouth, smiling at the way your eyes watered and your mouth fell open when his fingers curled particularly roughly. "Want me to fuck you, huh? Wanna scream and cry for me like the good girl I know you are?"
"Yes, please, Mr. Jeong!" you cried, kissing him again as you begged for his touch. He pulled away from your lips, breathing heavily like it hurt to not kiss you. He reached up and slid his foggy glasses off his face, setting them on the shelf before he swallowed your lips again, groaning unabashedly at your taste.
When he was sure you were soaked and stretched enough, he slipped his fingers out of you, the slick sound deafening.
He brought them to his lips, slipping them into his mouth, his eyes nearly rolling when your taste hit his tongue. His hands fiddleed with his belt, the metal clanking loudly as he shoved his boxers down just enough to free his cock.
Thick, intimidatingly long, and you understood why he spent the time stretching you out. "Didn't wanna hurt you, baby," Yunho purrs against your lips, sliding the length of his through your dripping folds, lubing himself up with your slick. "That can wait for another day, when I put you in your place for snooping in rooms you don't belong."
You whined unashamedly at the guise of there being a next time, and the shameful thought of Yunho administering a punishment for your behavior.
When he was coated in your arousal, he lined himself up with your entrance, your legs tightening round his hips in anticipation. Sliding one hand behind your neck, cupping the back of it, and pressing your forehead to his, his eyes locking with yours, barely even blinking. Painfully slow, Yunho pushed himself into you, keeping your neck in place so you couldn't look away, smirking when your eyes rolled and your lids fluttered when you felt him stretch you out.
Unable to escape his burning gaze, his eyes drank every micro expression on your face, and you felt his cock jump inside of you once there was no space left between your hips, filled to the brim wth him.
He only held the back of your neck tighter, pulling his hips back and thrusting in with such a force that your breath caught in your throat. The pressure was unbearable, and the pleasure was enough to immediately knock you stupid.
Yunho grinned, keeping his hand on your neck while the other gripped the underside of your thigh, helping support you against the wall as he ravaged. And still he never pulled his eyes away from you.
Lips just barely hovering over yours, so close you could feel the skin, but never quite kissing you, your breaths and moans mingling together in the air, eyes half lidded and watery, taking everything he was giving you.
Every slip of his cock in and out of your cunt made your thigh twitch in his hold, effortlessly sliding against that spot inside of you, like he already knew where to angle his hips.
"You're so dirty, baby," he cooed against your mouth, lightly biting yout bottom lip, smiling when a particularly rough thrust sent your moans up in pitch. "Snooping around my room when I'm not home, letting me fuck you against the wall, taking it all-" he punctuated each word with a deep stroke. "So. Fucking. Well."
The eye contact was killing you, and you could already feel yourself flying towards your orgasm. "Yuhno- please, sir, I'm close."
Yunho growled, the honorific making his skin prickle and his dick throb. "Yeah, you close? Want me to cum in this pussy? Fill you up? Fuck a baby into you, huh?"
It should have scared you, make you second-guess your already bad decision. But you moaned loudly, clenched around him, and came all over his cock like a bitch in heat, as he fucked you through it. The way your body reacted to his words alone told him all he needed to know, and his mood switched like a light.
Rough, claiming, and unforgiving, Yunho drove his cock into you, the wet slapping echoing around the closet, filthy. Squeezing the back of your neck, he kissed you as he fucked you through your orgasm, sucking on your tongue, kissing you like he was trying to swallow your breath.
"Sweet girl wants me to breed her, huh?" he teased into your mouth, the hand on your thigh moving to press against your lower stomach. "Gonna fill you up, right here." He pressed down, emphasizing his point, and he could feel his cock through your tummy, eyes rolling at how big he felt inside of you.
You were crying now, hot tears spilling down your cheeks, the pleasure undeniably riveting, losing your mind to the feeling.
"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm going to make you a mommy... gonna fucking breed you, baby. You'll take it right, won't you?" Yunho felt you clench again, and he knew you were cumming. You were perfect, so willing to him, so sweet and so lovely. He'd love for you to give him another kid, maybe a boy this time.
A few more deep thrusts, and Yunho stuttered his hips, cumming inside you with a sinful groan into your open mouth, eyes finally closing as he came down from his high. His hips stilled for a moment before he began slowly moving again, barely giving either of you time to catch your breath. "Can't let any slip out, hm? Gotta make sure you stay full of me."
You whimpered, overstimulation setting in your poor cunt, the slick sound of his cum mixing with yours echoing in your ears as he began to fuck deep up into you again.
"Don't whine, you know we have to make sure it works right, sweetheart?" Yunho pressed his lips against the shell of your warm ear, and you felt him smile against it, his hips finding a rhythm again. His free hand slid up to cover your mouth, muffling your sweet, overstimulated whines and loud cries for mercy.
summary: After having nightmares, San promises to stay by his princess's side all night.
word count: 2.3k
warnings: mature content, thigh riding, dirty talking, san is whipped for reader
a/n: baby's first pic plz be kind
Princess Y/n and her most trusted knight, San, are inseparable. Tonight, more so than others. Due to reoccurring nightmares, San has been assigned overnight duty.
"Don't worry Princess, if you need anything, I'll be just beyond this door." He smiles softly and knocks on the thick wooden door to emphasize his point. "You can unlock the door for me if it happens again, or you can just shout and I'll break this door down if it's easier that way." He jokes.
Y/n laughs, momentarily forgetting about the horrors that have been plaguing her mind for the last couple of nights. It starts the same- she is looking over the balcony of her tower that oversees the rose garden and leans over to get a closer look. Then, a strong gust of wind pulls her off the edge and she falls. The fall is fast, but long. She flips, tosses and turns through the air, crying begging for someone to help, but help never comes. As she falls, it's apparent that the roses have become bigger, colossal even, as if she were Alice in Wonderland all of a sudden.
She screams and awakes in her bed, tears running down her cheeks every time. By the second night this happened, she swore not to sleep again.
And San wasn't going to allow that.
"And you won't step away, or fall asleep?" She calls out to him warily. "Of course not Princess, have I ever let you down before?" He says in his charming, up beat tone.
And it's true. Sir San has watched over you since you both were children, he was practically raised to be your knight, and he did not treat that title lightly. He's protected you from bugs, irritating suitors, and from your own recklessness countless times. So, you knew you could always trust his words.
"Okay, well, goodnight San." You say as you climb into bed in your delicate white night gown. You weren't looking forward to tonight's sleep, convinced it was going to be the same as all the others.
"Have a sweet night." San says in his uplifting voice. And for some reason, him saying that lit a small flicker of hope in you.
---
Several hours had passed, and you had not been able to close your eyes, even for a second. Fear had taken over your mind and held you tightly in its grasp. You tossed over to the other side of the mattress again in a weak attempt to fall asleep when a bright idea came to you.
You looked down at the extra pillow beside you and sat up on top of it, straddling it between your thighs. "Surely this will tire me out..." You think to yourself. You press down softly on it at first and feel a slight pressure, but it wasn't enough. You roll the night gown over your shoulders, leaving you in your undergarments. You roll your hips again, this time feeling the pillow more deeply.
You groan softly, wary of San just outside your door, but as the pressure starts building, you can feel your reason slowly slipping away. You roll your hips in a steady and slow rhythm when your mind starts to wander to a memory of the other day.
It was a beautiful sunny afternoon and you were reading beside a pond. You were so lost in the book, you didn't notice your slipper fell off your foot and rolled into the water. But you did notice San leaving his post and removing his armor before jumping head first into the water.
You accidentally memorized the way the water droplets hugged his shirtless body, the way he brushed his wet hair effortlessly out of his eyes, and the way his trousers clung to his lower body-- leaving little to the imagination. "Don't worry princess I got it!!" He happily exclaimed while clutching your shoe, raising both arms proudly.
Normally, San's cute demeanor in that moment is what stands out to you, but right now as you straddle your pillow, all you can visualize is his thick cock showing through his pants that day.
“San…. Yes…” You groan as your hips pick up the pace. You imagine reaching out and softly touching his member, you can practically feel it jump under your touch. As you repeat that memory in your mind, San emerges from the water fully and kneels before you, leaning down to carefully slide your shoe back on. That’s when you notice his muscular thighs. The wet fabric wraps them nicely, a little too nicely, and it sends you to the edge. Back in reality, you moan loudly and scream San’s name while doing do.
In a nanosecond the large wooden door flies open. San bursts into the room, wielding his sword, but quickly drops it when he sees you desperately humping your pillow in your panties.
And calling his name while doing it.
Once the initial shock wears off, his demeanor changes entirely. He softly locks the door behind him, and when he turns back to you, his eyes darken like nothing you’ve seen before. You grab your blanket and quickly cover yourself. “This isn’t what it looks like! I was just having a bad dream is all.” You plead. San scoffs, dropping his sword to the floor and taking a seat on the edge of your bed. “So let me get this straight, you couldn’t sleep so you decided to undress and touch yourself to the thought of me?” He asks in a darker, more serious tone.
“Yes. I’m so sorry San, I couldn’t help it. Honestly, my mind wandered that’s all.” By now, your face has turned completely red and you felt like you were gonna pass out from embarrassment.
“I’m disappointed in you Princess.” San rests his head in his lap for a moment before turning to you. “I told you if you needed help with anything to call me.” Your jaw drops at his bold statement. “What?” He inches closer to you, his body leaning over yours. “Don’t be embarrassed princess, it’s completely natural to have those kinds of thoughts.” He whispers as his fingers lightly roam the blanket, daring to tear it away at any second.
“I’m not mad or disgusted. In fact, I’m flattered that my Princess can have any man in the kingdom, yet she chooses to fantasize about me.” He smiles brightly and a soft blush appears on his cheeks. “And I’d be lying if I said I haven’t done the same to the thought of you once or twice.” He admitted.
At the thought of San doing that, you roll your hips into the pillow involuntarily, and he notices right away. “What part were you on, you poor little thing. I bet it aches between your legs real bad because you haven’t finished what you started huh.” He pouts and you nod softly. He swiftly yanks your blanket away.
“Tell San what’s got you all hot and bothered.” He says while looking you up and down. “Your thighs and cock…. The other day at the pond….” You confess while closing your eyes and pressing down harder, picking up right where you left off. You hear him laugh. Not making fun of you, more in disbelief. “That’s so cute. Me jumping in the water and retrieving your slipper is all it takes to get you worked up like this huh.” You peek your eyes open to catch a quick glance at his thighs, which doesn’t go unnoticed.
“So you’re imagining my thighs huh. I can help you get a better look princess.” He quickly discards his shirt and trousers, leaving him in his underwear. Grabbing you by your underarms, he gently places you on top of his lap so that you are straddling one of his thighs instead of the pillow. He places his hands on your hips, teasingly slipping his thumbs underneath the waistband of your panties.
“I want you to use me y/n. My sole purpose is to serve you, and I want nothing more right now than to help you come.” He looks up at you with big glassy eyes. He places his thumb on your lips cautiously, trying to gauge your feelings towards him in that moment. While maintaining eye contact with him, you place a single kiss on his thumb before taking it in your mouth, lapping at it with your tongue. His brow furrows and groans at the sight. “You’re going to be the end of me.” He says breathlessly. You release his thumb and he uses that same hand to press his wet thumb to one of your breasts. You can feel the cold sensation throat the lace of your bra and you whine.
“Let’s get this out of the way pretty girl.” He hums as he discards your bra masterfully. He blatantly stares at your chest before placing his head directly in them, kissing and sucking even inch of skin he comes into contact with. He does so meticulously with such devotion, as if he’s worried you’ll disappear. You tangle your hands in his hair to reassure him, and he groans against your skin. The sounds he makes gives you the courage you needed to press your hips against his thigh roughly.
“See? Doesn’t it feel so much better with my help?” He pauses his actions and looks up at you with a cute smile, as if he was unaware of the effect he had on you currently. “Yes so much better” you whimper desperately. Hearing your tone, he quickly moves his lips from your chest to your neck leaving a trail of kisses and bites. “I want to kiss you so bad…” he mutters into your skin. “I know I’m simply a knight and this should be enough of a blessing but I feel so selfish right now.” He begs as he tenses his thigh muscle, sending a shock of pleasure through your whole body.
"I don't care about titles, I just want you San. You can have anything you want from me right now." You pant in-between moans. "Oh my sweet princess..." San grabs your face in his big strong hands and presses his lips to yours. They're soft kisses, but as your wetness spreads on his thigh, the kiss becomes deep and desperate. His tongue laps at yours while his hands roam from your waistband to your butt. He spanks it harshly, earning a whimper from you, which allows him more access to your mouth.
"So you were also thinking about my cock? What a dirty little princess..." You moan at his filthy words, picking up the pace with your hips. San shamefully bucks his hips into the air in response and groans. He reaches over and grabs the tip of his sword while you look at him, confused.
"Stay still beautiful." You whine as you still your hips. "Shh shhh I know... don't worry I'll let you continue in a second." The sword's blade just barely skims the top of your hip and you hold your breath. San carefully glides it over the waistband of your panties, slicing it. Your panties fall off you, leaving you completely naked on his thigh.
"Good girl." His hands roam your now bare body before reaching for his own undergarments. "Since you were so good at listening to me, I'll show you what you were so curious about. To help you visualize it, of course." He smirks as he removes his boxers. His cock springs out of its confines, the tip swollen red and angry looking. You moan and start rubbing your core against him, harder and faster than ever.
"Ugh look at it, this is what you do to me princess, this is how you make me feel." He moans as he places his hands on your hips, aiding your movements. The room is filled with the sound of slick skin moving against each other and both of your sounds.
"Ah! San- I think I'm close" you wrap your arms around his neck and hold him close. "Come on me princess. I want you to make a mess all over my thigh. Please please... for me" he starts biting your neck and collar bones, tongue soothing the marks after. As the pressure continues to build, San lands one last harsh slap to your bottom before you release all over him. He's flushed as he observes the face you make while doing it, coming himself as he watches you.
You press a quick kiss to his lips as you ride out the last of your pleasure. San gets up and grabs his handkerchief, wiping the both of you down. "How was that princess? Did you like it?" He asks, blushing nervously. You nod happily. "You were amazing." You fluff his hair and he smiles, putting his underwear back on. "Just letting you know princess, I like you. Not just as a knight, but as a man." He confesses quietly, reaching for his armor. You place a hand on his, stopping him. "I do too, so please don't leave me tonight." You two share another soft kiss while San happily slips into bed beside you, wrapping an arm tightly around you.
"Let's see if you can get some sleep now." He says. And that night, you do dream of falling in the rose garden again, but this time, San eagerly jumps in after you and holds you tightly against him mid-air. You admire his kind eyes, his soft smile, and the warmth of his touch. You feel so safe and loved you didn't even notice how the rose garden turned into a soft field of dandelions.
summary: There's only so much the "happy-go-lucky energetic passionate idol" Jeong Yunho can take from his work before he breaks. Lucky for him, he has someone at home waiting for him to release all that stress.
tags: canon compliant (i tried), 3rd person pov (but reader is still referred to as 'you'), free use!reader, kinda meandom!yunho, unprotected sex, dirty talk, yunho has a big dick, spit as lube, praise kink, cockwarming, overstimulation, slight dacryphilia, fluff
wc: 2.7k
(a/n: i wrote this as a projection bc i've not been feeling my best lately but i didn't expect it to get this long 😭 didn't proofread bc i wanna get this outta the way asap but i hope it's comprehensible. enjoy! :D)
》»——♡——«《
A full week of non-stop working has finally taken its toll on Yunho. During that period of time his dorm is only of use when he needs to sleep and clean up, and it’s not like he even gets a full eight hours of sleep. That part he has no problem with, it’s a sacrifice that he’s willing to make when he first decided to become an idol, a performer, a role model.
His work ethics has brought him to this position not many have the privilege of achieving. It opened a lot of windows of opportunity for him as well, such as doing magazine photoshoots, being picked to record a soundtrack for an upcoming drama, and filming for a short drama and movie.
Yunho chooses to see this abundance of workload as proof that he’s established himself as someone trustworthy for the people in the entertainment industry. Having this mindset helps him to keep pushing through various challenges, along with the knowledge that he has his fans, his members, and his family on his back. And you too.
Now this is where Yunho’s problem lies. The amount of work in this whole week and more has made it near impossible for him to find time for his girlfriend, one of his most cherished persons. When he’s not in the company building preparing for comeback and tour, he’s meeting up with the drama crew. When he’s not outside busting his ass off, he’s in his shared dorm knocked out like a light before he could contact you.
Despite your constant reassurance that he doesn’t need to check in every single day, that you understand the cost of dating an idol, it still devastates him to be unable to be there for you, with you.
He takes a moment collecting himself before punching in the code to your door. You had given it to him six months into the relationship, well aware that going to his place would be more risky. When the door is unlocked, Yunho steps in the room and notices you already have the lights turned off save for the one in your bedroom—as seen from the door left slightly ajar. He pulls out his phone from his pocket to check on the time.
The pictures and videos are not enough, the shitty speaker of his phone doesn’t do your sweet voice justice, the short text messages between you two start to feel mocking. Yunho needs you in the flesh. Needs to feel your warmth, hear about your day, and taste your lips again. Which is why his feet were leading him to your apartment.
—————————————————————
23.34 PM displayed on the screen.
Oh.
It didn’t cross his mind at all, the fact that it’s so late already.
It also didn’t cross his mind at all to text you, to let you know of his spontaneous visit.
That feeling of shame from being so careless lasts for until he pushes the door to your bedroom carefully to reveal the sight of you. No, it’s not your face that catches his eyes first, rather it’s your bare thighs. You’re lying flat on your stomach, seemingly playing on your switch, feet kicking in the air to some sort of rhythm you’ve set. As a result he accidentally catches a peek of your panties underneath the hem of the oversized shirt you’re wearing, his shirt to be exact.
All of a sudden it’s a cocktail of emotions running through him in that moment. Between the fatigue of the past week and the hunger from seeing you this way, Yunho’s brain is pushing for a shut down. So he chooses to leave his body on autopilot, it guides him to approach your bed—you’re somehow still unaware of his presence—and falls right on top of you while being mindful not to lean his full weight in.
“FUCK!” The device is dropped from your hands as you writhe underneath his large figure.
Yunho immediately regrets jumping straight on you like that. Clearly he didn’t think this through.
Unfortunately for him that just urges you to swing your fists to his direction in hopes some will land on him even if poorly.
In an attempt to calm you down, he leans away just the slightest from your body and closes in on your ear,
“Sshh… Hey, honey, it’s okay it’s just me. I’m sorry I’m sorry I didn’t mean to startle you like that.” He adds up with soft kisses to your temple.
“Don’t ever do that shit again, oh my god Yunho! You ass!” You shout at him, still struggling to be freed. The chaotic jostling of your body underneath his, the weak punches to the sides, and the way your voice is raising in pitch to curse at him, Yunho finds it all very endearing.
Although shortly after, he sees your movements faltering. A pause.
“Are you getting hard right now?”
The few seconds of silence that fills the room is the only answer he’s willing to give you. Yunho proceeds to roll his hips forward, bulge making contact with the swell of your ass, he murmurs into your neck, “Can I, Y/N? Please?”
For a while you’re quiet, body easing up, then you meet halfway with his hips, ass to crotch, causing him to grunt.
“Yeah?” He smirks. Yunho’s hands move with haste to unzip and pull down his pants just low enough to release his cock, eager to be buried in that wet, tight heat. Too eager in fact, opting to spit in his hand and slather his length with it instead of leaving your side to grab the lube. Your hand tries reaching back but Yunho’s faster in clutching your wrist.
He presses his body onto yours to kiss your ear, “Don’t worry baby, just go back to your game,” he lets go of you to slot his hand into the gap between both bodies to shove your panties to the side, ”I’ll take care of myself.”
The narrow space prevents Yunho from gaining a smooth slide at the first few tries, torturing the both of you, so when he manages to snug the tip inside, you two release a satisfied sigh at once.
Your hands return to the handles of your switch and press ‘continue’ on your game.
His lips quirk upward, “That’s it… don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing,” he mutters, his hips moving forward as slow as possible to make up for the lack of preparation on your end.
After some time, he manages to bottom out, the two lower bodies are basically mashed against one another as if trying to merge together.
To Yunho, there is no simple way to describe what it feels like when he’s able to sink himself inside you, finally, after ages of not having the chance to. After being robbed of precious time with you. It’s not just about returning to your hole which fits greatly around him, it’s also about having you back in his arms, your smaller frame engulfed within his bigger one. He feels like he could float right then and there.
The man carries on with the roll of his hips at a slow pace, content with just grinding on you, savoring the feel of your tight pussy clenching all over his length. One of his hands finds its way to settle on your stomach under the shirt, his palm spreading across it just to feel more of your warmth and push you closer to him. He breathes in your neck, a scent that is uniquely you flooding his senses, driving him to chase after that pleasure even further.
Before long the room is filled with the lewd sounds of your activity, mostly from him since you’re trying—determined—to stay composed, to pretend as if you don’t currently have about eight inches of dick lodged in your vagina, pounding at your cervix. You will yourself to focus on the screen in front of you instead, some random mission that you have to finish.
Not like Yunho cares though, as proven by the hand that was previously placed on your stomach deciding to snake down your mound right at that moment, fingertips just a few millimeters shy from the hood of your clit.
Because of that unexpected move, your thumb slips from the button you’re supposed to press.
‘Mission failed’, the screen says. Whatever complaint you have about that is halted when those fingers start their attack on your clit. Silently encouraging you to restart the game.
“I’m so– ah… sorry baby, you feel so good… just wanna make you feel good too…” He pouts and leaves kisses around your nape.
“Do you feel good? Hmm? Do I feel good inside?”
His hot breath makes you shiver. You continue on ignoring him as you assume that’s what he’d want you to do.
He draws your clit out of the hood to rub on it gently, pinching and pulling with two fingers every now and then. Yunho’s hips are moving with no sense of urgency and yet you find yourself crumbling already. What you fail to acknowledge is that he’s pretty much in the same state as you, with the way moans and whines incessantly leaves his throat, along with mumbling of praises,
“So good… Don’t wanna stop, wanna be buried in you forever,” he drops his head on your shoulder blade.
“Such a good girl letting me use you like this. You like being used, don't you?”
An involuntary clench of your walls responds in place of the words. He grins to himself, “Of course you do… I expected nothing less from my perfect doll.” Yunho places a kiss on your ear, full of pride and adoration.
You feel like your ears are melting, completely overheated by the filthy words being spewed out with that low, husky voice.
He doesn’t know if you caught the several ‘I missed you’s that poured out in the midst of all the mindless dirty talk. He can only hope that his touches are able to carry that message to you.
At this point you’re past caring about your game. Being pressed flat onto the mattress by Yunho’s full body weight is scratching a good itch inside your brain. Your hold on the handles loosens when you feel the rubbing on your clit and his thrusts are getting rougher. All you want to do right now is turn around so you can face your boyfriend, devour his lips as you tightly wrap your legs around his middle. But that is not what Yunho needs this time, and as a good girlfriend you can only lie there all pretty and allow him to take from you as much as he desires.
Yunho can only last for so long rocking back and forth into your heat until he eventually starts feeling that knot of his impending release tightening, movement faltering instantly. His fingers frantically rubbing on your clit to bring you to orgasm. The switch is now entirely abandoned, your body full on trembling, face buried into the sheets, muffling your sounds with the fabric.
A simple command said in a hushed tone is what finishes you, “Cum for me, Y/N.”
And you do, with no second thoughts, releasing on your boyfriend’s cock.
He hums, smiling as he pets your hair to reward you, “Mhmm there’s my girl… fuck ‘mclose’mclose’mclose–”
It almost feels like Yunho’s reaching the parts inside you that’s never been explored before with how deep his cock is digging in. Overstimulated, you try to escape the constant grind of his pelvis, only to be pulled back to it. You hear a chuckle that sounds rather sinister from behind you, “Silly girl… Where do you think you’re going?”
Tears are beginning to roll down your cheeks, the sound of your heartbeat is thundering in your ears. The pressure on your cervix becoming borderline painful.
Hearing your sniffles, he comforts you with fake sympathy, “Oh sweetheart, don’t cry…”
Yunho reaches for your jaw to turn your head towards him. Cooing when he takes in the sight of your glossy eyes.
“I’m almost there, you’re my good girl you can take a little bit more… God–Fuck!” A couple of thrusts later, he finally shoots his load in your hole, weeks of pent up sexual frustration pumped deep within you.
He drops his head next to yours, “Thankyouthankyouthankyou,” he chants for the duration spent on cumming. He lifts his head up to kiss you on the cheek, continuing on the same chant near the corner of your lips. Breaths mingling together.
Yunho straightens himself up on top of you, his arms circle around your chest, giving you a backhug. For quiet a while he just lays there still you presume he dozed off by accident, but then he budges when he notices you’re trying to flee. Squeezing you tighter.
“Let me stay like this, please?” His voice is small as he pleads, it makes your heart ache. So you let him rest there until the position becomes uncomfortable for you.
You tap his forearm to notify him, “Wanna spoon face to face instead? You can still keep your dick in after.”
He mumbles an ‘okay’ and pulls out to his dismay, leaving behind a trail of white fluid down your inner thighs. The both of you not wasting a single second to lie sideways facing each other. You make room for him by spreading your legs and tangling one of them to his thigh. A pleased sigh escapes Yunho’s lips when he’s able to shove his length back in your pussy, albeit not being as erect. Doesn’t matter, at the end of the day he has returned to you, physically and mentally.
The night bears witness to the tenderness of the embrace shared between two bodies. Your hand on Yunho’s head which finds repose on your chest, while his hand is splayed on your lower back. The weight of his cock inside turns into some kind of comfort keeping you steady.
“Sorry again, for scaring you like that,” something seems to come to mind right after,
“and I’m sorry for barely contacting you these days. I know you’ve said ‘it’s alright’ plenty of times but I just– I still feel guilty.”
Having him be this vulnerable with you, exhaustion dragging his words, the crown of his head taking up your vision, activates the protective side in you. Makes you want to be there as his shield wherever he goes, which is not possible realistically considering your and his status. Therefore you settle on patting him on the back, to let him know that you’re always present for him to come home to.
Before you can get too sentimental however, you try to lighten up, “So I guess you’re not sorry for jumping my bones as soon as you saw me?”
“For that, I say thank you, which I did by the way!” He nuzzles into your chest sheepishly, “I missed you so much and seeing your ass all exposed was my last straw.”
Yunho giggles and then hiss when the shaking jostles his dick, it causes your walls to clench as well.
“Well I’m flattered,” You chuckle.
You cup your hand on Yunho’s jaw and lift his head, staring into each other as you confess, “I missed you too.”
“You know you’re still in your outdoor clothes, right?”
He sucks in a breath then proceeds to stretch forward to kiss your lips, brief yet enough to convey all the repressed emotions. You break the moment once you speak up,
He groans and hides his face on your shoulder.
“Clean up later?”
He nods, “Mm, just ten more minutes.”
You can do with ‘ten more minutes’, as long as none of you even think about getting a shut eye. Though you weren’t expecting much from your boyfriend, so when you feel his hold on you going lax, his breathing slowing down, you only sigh and join him in closing your eyes.
“Tomorrow morning then,” you whisper to the walls.
a/n: 🤭 my man my man - expect a lot of hongjoong-focused scenes, fics, and drabbles to happen on his lap (i have a years-long desire to sit in his lap i'm sorry)
warnings: brat tamer!hongjoong, cockwarming, dacryphilia, hongjoong's a meanie :( (🤪🙏🏻)
wc: 1.5k
that's it really... enjoy!
· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·
You struggle to breathe normally, gripping his shoulders and bunching up the thin fabric of his shirt. You’ve been like this for what seems like hours, torturous hours, when in reality it had only been half an hour. It dawned on you early that maybe distracting him while he was trying to produce was not the best idea. You had been begging for his attention all day, knowing he was busy. He couldn’t help it, and you knew what you signed up for when he officially asked you to be his.
It was your own fault – standing behind him, letting your hands run down his chest as he tried to concentrate on piecing together the next title track. You moved his headphones off of one ear and purred and whined about how badly you needed his cock. At first, he had pouted too, feigning sympathy and playfully pushing you away. But the more persistent and whiny you got, bending over in front of him, unbuttoning his shirt, the more ticked off he became.
His final straw had been when you got on your knees next to his chair, running a hand dangerously high up his thigh, begging him to let you ride him.
Now here you were, sat on his lap, his cock buried inside of you to the hilt and absolutely refusing to move. He’s also prohibiting you from moving or making any noise, which would distract him further, unless you want to be punished. And did you really want to endure worse than this? You pout over his shoulder. It’s not your fault you’re ovulating. Besides, isn’t helping you in that department in the boyfriend job description?
Hongjoong has been purposefully ignoring you the whole time, hyper-focused on the screen and track in front of him. Every time you try to shift your weight or move slightly in any direction, your body shakes uncontrollably. His breath is controlled and steady as he clicks around on the screen, shifting one of the recorded tracks over just by half a second and hitting ‘play’.
You whine, attempting to vie for his attention, but that just grants you a quick, hard smack to your thigh, quieting you at once. A quick and easy reminder.
He leans back, listening to the track closely, his hand absentmindedly soothing where he had just struck you. You try to hide your sniffles and tears as much as you can, but he hits the spacebar to pause the song.
You freeze, breathing shakily through your mouth.
He pushes you by the shoulders so you’re upright again to see your face. You avoid eye contact as a last ditch effort for self-preservation. Avoiding your reality.
“Are you crying?” he smirks, tilting his head down to try to look you in the eye. You avoid his smug gaze, burying your face back into his neck and throwing your arms around his shoulders. He laughs lowly, trailing his hands up and down your thighs with such a featherlight touch that you shiver. You whine again and he sighs, rubbing your back.
“My poor baby,” he murmurs in your ear, “are you so desperate that you’re toying with my rules?”
You shiver again, giving him his answer.
He hums, leaning back in his chair again. “Impatient little girl,” he whispers, and you whimper against his skin. “I had such a special reward for you too if you stayed good…maybe I’ll give you one more chance.”
He sounds so unbothered and nonchalant that it kills you. Immediately you nod against him, doing your best to mask the excitement of anticipation that accompanied his words.
He runs a hand through your hair and you lean into his touch.
First mistake.
He suddenly grabs you by the hair and pulls you to look at him. You whimper and look up at him with round, wet eyes. He grins, loving how submissive you are for him. So eager to be good for him even when you’re being a brat. Your bratty side was all bark and absolutely zero bite when it came to him.
Secretly, he loved it.
“Let me finish this undisturbed – no noise, no moving. You will sit patiently and quietly like a good girl…and what do good girls get?” He waits a moment to prompt you for the answer, nodding to signal that it was okay for you to speak, lips parted slightly as he waits.
“Good girls get–” you swallow nervously, “good girls get rewarded.”
“Yes they do, darling, and I want to give you a reward, so be patient for me just a little bit longer. Okay?”
“Okay..” you reply quietly, your voice breaking in between syllables.
He kisses your forehead and eases you back down so your head is resting in the crook of his neck again. “Thank you, darling,” he says, warming your heart and your cheeks.
The keyboard typing and mouse-clicking sounds resume quickly soon after and after a while you begin to relax more and more.
Second mistake.
You really should’ve known by now to never let your guard down around Kim Hongjoong of all people.
He scoots forward in his chair a little bit, his hips bucking up and you scramble to cover your mouth to muffle the gasp that escapes you. He pauses and you freeze, waiting for him to call you out, but he ignores it, going back to work.
Nevertheless, you keep your hand securely over your mouth now that he’s playing dirty. You want to complain and tell him that he’s not being fair, but you knew where that route would take you – edging hell.
You try to relax your high alert body, nuzzling your nose into his neck.
He melodically hums, drumming his fingers along the desktop, tapping out a potential beat, the humming and miscellaneous noises gradually evolving into syllables.
You sigh happily, enjoying listening to him work. But soon his free hand is suddenly on your thigh, inching closer and closer to your core.
You stop breathing, and will yourself to not clench around his length. However, once you hear him chuckle you know you gave yourself away.
Please, you think, please hurry up.
His hand squeezes your inner thigh, and you press your hand harder to your mouth. He continues to hum, muttering to himself every so often about who could sing which part. You hear the mouse click a couple times.
“Hmm… Sannie... there. Then… Yu— Yeosang,”
Then all of a sudden, he’s rubbing your clit with his thumb, his palm pressing against your lower stomach, and acting totally innocent all the while. You jolt, your hips wanting to move back to get away from his touch, but he’s got you trapped against him. Your tears fall freely now, wetting his shoulder, seeping through the thin fabric of his t-shirt. Your noises die in your throat, determined this time to not break his rules again.
“Seonghwa-hyung…” he mutters again, clicking around while he presses harder on your clit and you start to whine, your pussy starting to spasm around his cock.
Third mistake.
He leans back, his head turning towards you.
Fuck–
His eyes are dark. “Oh? Should I call Seonghwa in to take care of you instead?” he hisses, rubbing your clit faster. His shirt is tight in your grip and you bite down on the fabric of it, desperate to not make a sound.
You dare not move, breathing heavily. No noise, no moving.
“No? You seem pretty responsive to the sound of his name, baby. He’s probably nicer than me… or maybe even worse if he knew how badly behaved you’re being right now.”
You don’t see him smirking.
His fingers slow, and you release his shirt from your teeth. Knowing it was a gamble, you try one last time to get him to do anything to you.
“I only want you,” you say, barely audible. He pauses for a few agonizing moments.
Then he grinds his hips up, his hands firmly holding you down on your sides, making you take all of him. You gasp and immediately bite your lip.
“You want me, baby?” he whispers in your ear. You nod, black mascara tears staining your cheeks. His favorite sight.
“Say it. Tell me how badly you need me.”
“Oh god, Hongjoong, please! I-I need you so so badly, please–!”
“‘Please’ what, darling?” His hands grip your body, nails slightly digging into your skin, “Be specific.”
All dignity evaporates from you at once, “I need you,” you sob, “please fuck me.”
You can’t bring yourself to look him in the eye, shy and embarrassed at your own words, but he loves it. He loves turning you into a pathetic, begging mess for him. He bites his lip, holding himself back for just a moment longer to admire the sight before him.
“Please, Captain?” you beg, doe eyes and all.
His smug playfulness is gone. It’s like a switch goes off; the demon that possesses him onstage is suddenly in the room with you and it’s on.
