Unhinged

[luna-azzurra]

Dialogue Beats & How People Actually Talk List!! 

𐙚⋆.˚ Trailing off mid-sentence and not finishing the thought 

𐙚⋆.˚ Answering a question with a question to buy time 

𐙚⋆.˚ Laughing before saying something painful 

𐙚⋆.˚ "I'm fine" said in twelve completely different ways 

𐙚⋆.˚ The pause before a name that carries a whole conversation in it 

𐙚⋆.˚ Repeating the last word someone said while processing 

𐙚⋆.˚ Starting a sentence three times before finishing it 

𐙚⋆.˚ Saying "no, yeah" vs. "yeah, no" (opposite meanings) 

𐙚⋆.˚ The overly casual voice when asking something they desperately care about 

𐙚⋆.˚ Talking faster when nervous, slower when trying to control the room 

𐙚⋆.˚ The subject change that's so obvious it becomes its own confession 

𐙚⋆.˚ "It's fine" vs. "It's fine" vs. "...it's fine" 

𐙚⋆.˚ Going very quiet and polite when actually at their most dangerous 

𐙚⋆.˚ Agreeing just to end the conversation 

𐙚⋆.˚ Using someone's full name vs. nickname as a power shift 

𐙚⋆.˚ Apologizing for things that aren't their fault out of habit 

𐙚⋆.˚ The "anyway—" that means I'm done being vulnerable now 

𐙚⋆.˚ Jokes as deflection (always) 

𐙚⋆.˚ Saying the brave thing, then immediately walking it back 

𐙚⋆.˚ The sentence that stops just before the word that would mean too much

[yungistiny]

it’s just mingi

[ J. Yunho + S. Mingi ]

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summary: in which your boyfriend’s best friend wakes up and watches

warning: possessive dom yunho, sub mingi, sub reader, unprotected sex, oral, squirting, masturbation, overstimulation, choking, multiple orgasms, voyeurism, creampie

genre: smut

pairing: idol yunho x afab reader x idol mingi

word count: 4.4k

masterlist

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The hotel room was dim, lit only by the faint amber glow of the city lights bleeding in through the curtains. The hum of traffic far below was a low lull, and Mingi had been out cold for nearly an hour, one arm flung over his head, mouth parted slightly in deep sleep.

You were lying on your side, facing Yunho, your knees barely brushing beneath the sheets. You felt his fingers first, light at your waist, then his breath, warm, sweet with sleep as he leaned in close. “Baby,” he whispered, his voice thick and low, heavy with need, “you’re killing me.”

You whispered back, amused, “He’s right there.” Yunho glanced over your shoulder. Mingi was a statue. If statues snored. “It’s just Mingi,” he said, fingers sliding beneath your shirt, his touch feather light. “Even if he did wake up… he’d probably just turn over and go back to sleep.”

“Or watch,” you muttered under your breath, teasing, joking, half testing him which made Yunho’s dark eyes flick up to yours, slow and heated. “Would that bother you?” he murmured, pressing closer, his hand slipping lower now, to your hip. “If he did?” Your breath caught. “You’d be so quiet for me, wouldn’t you?” he said, voice lower now, lips brushing your ear. “So good.” His fingers moved again, slipping between your thighs now, barely touching, just enough to make your whole body ache as his fingers trailed slow and deliberate down the curve of your hip, barely brushing beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“Turn over,” he murmured, voice husky against your temple. You blinked, breath stalling. “What?” He nuzzled closer, lips skimming your cheek, your jaw. “On your stomach,” he whispered. “It’ll be quieter.” You swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward Mingi’s sleeping form. He hadn’t moved an inch, blanket tangled at his waist, mouth slightly open. Dead to the world. Still… “Yunho…” His hand slid lower, palm heavy as it squeezed your ass beneath the sheets. “You’ll keep your face in the pillow, and I won’t let the bed move.” His voice dipped even deeper, dark and slow like honey. “I’ll fuck you slow, baby. You just have to be good for me.”

You hated how fast your body responded, heat pooling between your legs, your breath already shaky. “But….”

“Do you trust me?”

Your heart thudded as you nodded.

“Then turn over.”

The sheets rustled softly as you rolled onto your stomach, cheek pressed into the cool pillowcase. Your pulse fluttered as Yunho eased the covers down your body, his hand dragging them slowly off your back and your hips. He bent low, lips pressing to your spine. “So quiet for me,” he murmured, kissing a trail down your back. “So good…” his hand slid back up your spine, this time bunching the oversized shirt you wore, his shirt, higher and higher until it was caught just beneath your breasts so he could lean over you, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades, the weight of his body sinking deliciously against yours.

You felt him shift behind you, the unmistakable brush of him thick and hard, pressing between your thighs as he lined himself up. “I missed this,” he breathed, dragging the tip of his dick through your folds once… twice… before he pushed forward, slow, achingly slow and you gasped because you couldn’t help it as he filled you, the stretch so deep and perfect that your mouth parted in a soft, helpless moan.

Yunho froze for a second, buried inside you to the hilt before he chuckled low under his breath, his lips at your ear. “Baby…” he murmured, amusement laced with warning. “You trying to wake him up?” You whimpered into the pillow, biting your lip as he pulled out just enough to make you ache, then slid back in slow, grinding his hips against you with a low exhale. “I said quiet,” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath your shirt to palm your breast, fingers teasing your nipple until you were trembling. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

You nodded into the pillow, your hands clutching the sheets as he started to move again, deep, slow thrusts that lit fire across every nerve. “You feel too good not to be loud,” he teased, his voice smug now, hips rolling smoother, harder. “But you don’t want Mingi to know how good I’m fucking you, do you?” Another quiet moan slipped out and Yunho grinned. “Thought so.”

You whimpered as he buried himself deeper. Every slow thrust had your body trembling beneath him, your legs spread just wide enough under the sheets to let him move the way he wanted, deliberate, controlled and deep. His hand remained curled under your shirt, cupping your breast, fingers rolling your nipple until your hips jerked back into him like muscle memory and another moan slipped from your lips, soft, breathy and desperate. And then Yunho’s hand moved. Smooth and sudden, he slid it from your breast up to your mouth, covering it gently but firmly.

“Shhh,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, voice a slow whisper of smoke. “I told you to be quiet.” Your eyes fluttered shut. The weight of his body behind you, the heat of his hand over your mouth, the slow press of his dick filling you again and again, it was too much, too good, too risky. And across the room, Mingi shifted in the other bed making Yunho go still immediately, still buried inside you, hand frozen over your mouth. The only sound was the hum of the AC and the thunder in your ears.

Then… nothing. Mingi just turned over, muttered something incoherent in his sleep, and settled back into steady, oblivious breathing as Yunho leaned down, his chest against your back now, voice low and sinful. “Told you,” he whispered, lips curving into a smirk against your skin. “Even if he did wake up, he’d just go back to sleep.” But he didn’t pull his hand away. If anything, he pressed it firmer against your mouth, his other hand gripping your hip as he began to move again, slower, deeper thrusts that dragged along every inch of you.

He fucked you like he had all night, like his best friend wasn’t sleeping just a few feet away. Every time you gasped, he gave you a warning squeeze. Every time your body tightened around him, he whispered praise against your neck. “You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his pace never faltering. “So quiet, even when I know you wanna scream.”

Yunho’s thrusts stayed slow, but they’d grown heavier, more intentional. His hand stayed wrapped over your mouth, palm damp with the soundless moans you kept trying not to let out. The other was anchored at your hip now, keeping you in place, guiding every roll of his hips into yours with precision. He was breathing harder now, quiet exhales brushing your shoulder as he bent over you, his chest pressing to your back, his dick dragging deep with each measured thrust. And you didn’t hear it. You didn’t see it. But Yunho did.

A shift across the room. A faint creak of mattress springs. A sudden absence of snoring. Yunho glanced up from the curve of your spine, eyes lifting just over your shoulder toward the other bed and froze. Mingi. Eyes half lidded, face barely visible in the shadows. Awake and watching. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared across the dark room, one hand resting under the covers, the other loosely curled by his face. His expression was unreadable, half asleep or maybe just mesmerized, but he made no effort to look away.

And Yunho held the stare. His lips curled into the faintest smirk as he gave one slow, deliberate thrust, his hips grinding into you just enough to make your eyes roll back, a soft whimper muffled against his hand. You didn’t notice the shift. Didn’t notice the way Yunho’s attention was split now, half on you, half on his best friend watching silently from the dark as he bent lower again, lips brushing your ear. “You’re doing so good,” he whispered, voice silk and fire. “Being so quiet for me.”

And then, eyes still locked on Mingi’s, he thrust again, deeper this time and Mingi’s fingers twitched beneath the sheet making Yunho’s grin deepen. But you? You were too far gone, blissfully unaware, face buried in the pillow, body arching back into every punishingly slow stroke as Yunho licked his lips, gaze never breaking because he knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t look away. Not when Mingi’s eyes stayed on him. Not when the blanket over Mingi shifted just slightly, just enough to catch the movement of his hand sliding lower beneath the sheets.

He watched. Controlled. Kept his rhythm steady. All while you writhed beneath him, unaware that your entire body had become a private performance. For him. And now for Mingi as well. You whimpered again, eyes squeezed shut, back arching helplessly against the slow, possessive drag of Yunho’s dick inside you. His hand was still over your mouth, his other gripping your hip so tight it would bruise by morning. His breath hitched once as he watched the outline of Mingi’s hand begin to move, slow and steady, under the blanket.

Yunho’s lips brushed your ear again, voice low, but there was something else behind it now. A sharpness. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he whispered, just loud enough for both of you to hear. “So wet for me… always so ready.” You let out a muffled moan, head turning toward the pillow, desperate and overstimulated as Yunho’s gaze flicked back to Mingi. Still watching. Still moving under the sheets, hand clearly wrapped around his own dick. Good.

Without warning, Yunho slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered in protest, wriggling your hips back toward him, but he was already moving, shifting, rolling you onto your back with careful hands making You blink up at him, dazed. “Yunho?” He shushed you with a kiss, slow and soft, one hand brushing your hair out of your face. “Shhh. Want to see you.” Before you could answer, his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open, lifting your legs up, bending them at the knees and hooking them over his broad shoulders.

You gasped. The stretch. The angle. The intimacy of it. Was almost overwhelming as he pushed back in making your hands fly to your mouth, eyes wide as his dick slid back inside you with one slow, perfect thrust. Yunho groaned, quiet but guttural, his eyes never leaving yours. His grip on your thighs tightened, jaw flexing as he pulled almost all the way out and pushed in again, deeper, smoother, harder. “You’re so tight like this,” he rasped. “So fucking perfect.”

You could barely breathe, barely think, caught between the sweet stretch and the shameful thrill of getting fucked just feet away from your boyfriend’s best friend. But he wasn’t sleeping. Mingi’s eyes were wide now, the blanket tugged a little higher up his chest as his hand moved steadily beneath it. He was panting, trying to stay silent, trying not to move the bed. And Yunho was watching every second of it like it was his own personal reward. He looked back down at you, smiling through grit teeth. “Look at you,” he whispered. “Trying so hard not to scream for me.”

You bit your lip hard. Your whole body was coiled tight, legs trembling where they hung over his shoulders, your nails digging into the sheets. And Yunho leaned down, folding you in half more, driving even deeper as his voice dropped to a murmur, for your ears alone. But his eyes stayed on Mingi. “You’re mine.” He murmured against your skin, his voice rough, ragged, but controlled just like everything else about him.

You moaned, quiet and ruined, your hands gripping the sheets like you were trying to stay grounded. And then he grinned. That crooked, dangerous grin he only wore when he knew he had all the power. “And my best friend,” he whispered, dipping closer, his lips brushing your jaw as his voice dropped to a low, amused purr, “is getting himself off to us right now.”

Your eyes flew open. “WHAT?” You tried to turn your head, but Yunho caught your jaw, holding it gently, kissing the corner of your mouth like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in your chest. “Mmm mmm,” he murmured, voice like velvet sin. “Eyes on me, baby.” And then he started to really move. Not slow this time. Not soft. He drove into you with one powerful thrust, then another, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs with each stroke, the angle hitting so deep it had your mouth falling open in a silent cry.

“Now you’re being loud,” he groaned, burying himself to the hilt. “What happened to being quiet for me, huh?” You whimpered, blinking through tears as your entire body rocked beneath him as he leaned down again, pressing your legs further up, deeper inside you now, your body stretching around him, made to take him like this. “Can’t help it?” he cooed, taunting, lips curling against your cheek. “Knowing he’s over there watching me fuck you like this?”

You finally turned your head and saw Mingi. His eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling fast as he sat halfway up in bed now, one hand fisted under the covers, the other braced behind him. He looked wrecked. Desperate. Guilty and aroused all at once. And the sight of it made you choke on a gasp as Yunho kept moving, dragging a hand down your body, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he pounded into you. “Don’t stop now,” he groaned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “He’s already seen everything.”

Yunho was a man possessed now, hips driving into you like he was chasing a high he knew only you could give him. Your thighs trembled where they clung to his shoulders, every stroke sending waves of heat rippling through your core. You were clenching so hard around him, gasping with every thrust, your fingers tangled in the sheets like they were the only thing keeping you tethered. He felt it. He knew you were close. And so did Mingi who was still perched in bed, frozen but visibly falling apart, his chest rising and falling fast beneath his tank top, eyes locked on where Yunho was splitting you open.

Yunho turned his head just slightly, lips parted in a breathless smirk. Then, without warning he ripped the blanket off the both of you and yossed it aside like it was in the damn way. The room was dark, but not dark enough. The lights outside bled just enough silver through the curtains to illuminate your slick thighs, the glossy mess coating Yunho’s length every time he pulled out, and the way your soaked pussy clung to him like a vice, starting to squirt as he kept rutting, pounding into you, grunting, digging his fingers into your waist and slamming into you again, harder, deeper, and your body snapped.

You arched, crying out. And then you broke. A wave of liquid shot out of you, soaking Yunho’s lower stomach, the sheets beneath you, everything. “Fuck,” Yunho hissed, head tipping back as he felt you squirt fully around him, your body twitching violently with the force of it. He looked straight at Mingi, his voice smug, breathless, and absolutely filthy. “She always does that when I fuck her just right,” he groaned. “Makes the prettiest fucking mess.”

Mingi’s mouth parted, his eyes wide and dark, jaw slack as he watched your body convulse under Yunho’s, still trembling, overstimulated and leaking. You were panting, wrecked, barely able to process the aftermath as Yunho leaned over you again, licking sweat from your neck and whispering, “You should’ve seen his face, baby.” And then, with a slow, deep thrust that made you whimper. “He’s never gonna forget this.”

You were shaking, thighs trembling against Yunho’s broad shoulders, your chest heaving, lips parted in a dazed, fucked out expression. And still he didn’t stop. Yunho dragged his dick out slow, savoring the squelch of your soaked cunt clinging to him before slamming back in again deeper making you entire body jolt. “Y….Yunho…” you gasped, a sob laced with pleasure spilling from your throat. “I…. I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, thrusting harder now, both hands gripping your waist as he rocked into you. “You’re gonna come again for me, baby. Right here. Just like that.” He shifted one hand lower, thumb slipping between your bodies to find your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles as he pounded into you relentlessly. And the pressure…. it was too much. You shook your head, back arching, voice cracking, “Baby….. it’s…. fuck too much”

“Oh, I know,” Yunho breathed, dragging his teeth over your collarbone. “That’s why it feels so fucking good.” You didn’t even hear Mingi anymore. Didn’t notice the way he was breathing harder, the way the sheets rustled with movement across the room as fucked his hand imagining he was buried inside you along with Yunho. But Yunho did. He lifted his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, eyes locking with Mingi’s and grinned. And then, softly… tauntingly, “You gonna come with her, Mingi?”

Mingi froze, just a beat, before his head tipped back, a low moan slipping out, finally, completely involuntary. The sound of him made you blink, dazed and to clench Yunho a little harder as he leaned in again, voice a low, dangerous hum at your ear. “He’s fucking his fist right now watching me fuck you. And I haven’t even really started yet.” Your eyes flew open, the reality hitting you like lightning as Yunho’s hand slid to your throat, not tight, just there. Possessive. Calming. Claiming. “Look at me,” he whispered. “You’re mine. He knows it. He can fucking watch.”

And then he slammed into you again and you cried out, sharp, loud, broken and Yunho groaned as you clenched around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, body convulsing beneath him as slick poured out of you, your vision going white behind your eyes and Mingi’s moan hit the dark air right after. He couldn’t hold it back. His release ripped through him in silence and shame and awe, his chest heaving, hand still under the blanket, eyes wide and locked on you.

Yunho didn’t stop moving until your legs fell from his shoulders, until you were trembling and gasping and completely ruined. Only then did he slow, finally leaning down, pressing kisses along your jaw, his voice soft now, intimate. “You’re perfect.” Then, louder. For Mingi. “But she’s not done yet.”

Mingi knew he should’ve looked away. The second he opened his eyes and realized what was happening, what Yunho was doing to you just a few feet away, he should’ve rolled over, closed his eyes, pretended to still be asleep. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He laid there in the dark, heart hammering against his ribs, trying to stay still, to stay silent, as he watched you unravel beneath Yunho, sheets pushed aside, shirt bunched at your ribs, legs shaking, gasping and moaning into his hand like it was the only thing keeping you from screaming.

Mingi’s hand had drifted down before he even registered it, sliding beneath his waistband, fingers curling around himself. Yunho was fucking you slow, deep, possessive. Every stroke was like a threat and a promise, and when your body arched and you squirted, Jesus Christ, Mingi nearly came right then. He’d never seen anything so raw. So fucking real. Then Yunho looked at him. Locked eyes across the room. And grinned. Like he knew Mingi would never forget this. Now here Yunho was like the devil incarnate saying you weren’t done yet.

Mingi blinked. Heart stuttering as Yunho turned his head and looked right at him, still inside you, his voice low, cocky, and utterly in control. “Come on, princess,” he murmured. “You already came once. You might as well come help me wreck her.” Your head turned weakly toward Mingi, eyes hazy, lips swollen and parted. You were still panting, your body a trembling mess, but you didn’t say no. You didn’t say anything. And that silence made Mingi’s pulse slam into overdrive.

“You want him, don’t you?” Yunho whispered, tilting your face toward his. “You’ve thought about it. I know you have.” You didn’t answer with words but your thighs clenched involuntarily around Yunho’s waist and he smirked. “That’s what I thought.” He looked at Mingi again. “Take your shirt off.”

Mingi hesitated, his whole body frozen between desire and disbelief. But then he saw the way you looked at him, tired, wrecked, but eyes flicking down his bare chest when he sat up, pupils blown wide with curiosity. With want. So he stood and walked toward the bed slowly and Yunho leaned down, kissed your throat, then looked up at Mingi with a grin that wasn’t just invitation, it was challenge. “You’ve seen what I can do to her,” he murmured. “Now show me what you want to do.”

Yunho's challenge hung in the air, his voice low and commanding as he kept his dick buried deep inside you, the slow grind of his hips never faltering. Mingi hesitated at first, his face flushed deep red, eyes darting between his best friend’s possessive stare and the way your body trembled beneath him. But the tension built thickly in the dim hotel room, the city lights casting faint shadows across all of you. And slowly, Mingi shifted, his own dick still hard and leaking from the earlier release as he dropped to his knees beside your bed, drawn in despite the disbelief etched on his features, until he was right there beside you both.

Yunho's hand stayed firm around your throat, not squeezing too tight but holding you in place with that dominant grip, while his thrusts remained deliberate and unhurried. He pulled back almost all the way before sinking in again, stretching you open inch by inch, making sure you felt every ridge of him. "That's it, Mingi," Yunho murmured, his tone laced with taunt. "Come taste her. She's dripping all over my dick, and I know you want it."

Mingi swallowed hard, his breath ragged, but he moved, positioning his face near where your bodies joined. His tongue flicked out tentatively at first, lapping at your swollen clit with wet, broad strokes that sent sparks shooting through your overstimulated nerves. The sensation layered on top of Yunho's steady fucking, his dick sliding in and out right against Mingi's mouth, and Mingi groaned into you, the vibration rumbling through you. He didn't stop there, his tongue working eagerly now, circling your clit before dragging lower to swipe along the base of Yunho's dick as it plunged into you. The dual sensation was overwhelming, hot, slick pressure on your clit combined with the way Mingi's lips brushed Yunho's dick on every thrust.

Yunho grunted in approval, his hips picking up just a fraction, still controlled but deeper, filling you completely each time as Mingi's free hand wrapped around his own dick again, stroking it with desperate pumps, his fingers slick with his previous cum as he fucked his fist in time with the rhythm. He was overstimulated already, his body twitching from the intensity, yet he couldn't pull away, his tongue lapping messily at both of you, tasting your arousal mixed with the faint salt of Yunho's skin.

Your moans grew louder despite the hand on your throat, muffled only partially as Yunho's fingers tightened just enough to remind you that just because his best friend had joined, you were still his. Pleasure built in waves, your pussy clenching around Yunho's while Mingi's tongue flicked relentlessly over your clit, sucking gently now and then before returning to lap at the spot where Yunho entered you.

Mingi whimpered into you, his hand moving faster on himself, hips bucking into his own grip as overstimulation hit him hard, his dick throbbing, yet he kept going, chasing another release as Yunho watched it all with a dark grin, his gaze locked on Mingi even as he drove into you, the pace dragging out every sensation until your body quivered on the edge again. The minutes stretched on like that, Yunho's thrusts unyielding, each one pushing you higher while Mingi's tongue worked you over, alternating between your clit and the length of Yunho sliding past his lips.

Sweat beaded on Mingi's forehead, his strokes on his own dick growing erratic from the overload, but he didn't stop, his mouth open and hungry against you both. You felt the coil tightening in your core, your walls fluttering around Yunho as another orgasm built, slow and inevitable from the prolonged attention until finally, Yunho's control snapped just enough. His hand gripped Mingi's hair roughly, fingers tangling in the strands to hold him in place as his hips snapped forward harder. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his dick pulsing inside you as he came, flooding you deep with hot spurts that filled you full.

His throat grip stayed possessive, anchoring you as his release triggered yours, your body convulsed, pussy squeezing him tight while you came hard around him, juices mixing with his own and coating Mingi's tongue who followed right after, his own orgasm hitting with a choked moan, his hand jerking his dick as he spilled again onto the side of the bed, overstimulated and trembling from the shared intensity. Yunho didn't let go immediately, keeping Mingi's face pressed close as the aftershocks rolled through all three of you, the room filling with heavy breaths and ragged gasps.

Then after the silence, a sudden burst of laughter left you, coming out breathless and full of amusement. “What?” Yunho pulled out of you, sitting back on his knees as Mingi moved back on the floor. “Wooyoung and Jongho are right next door.” You snorted because in the end, you were loud, all of you were. “Oh…” Yunho grinned and looked down at Mingi who shook his head, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I hate both of you.”

He absolutely didn’t. And he absolutely was thinking about doing it all over again.

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[luna-azzurra]

Ways to describe Red Hair!!<3

[mgverse]

Overtime | J.YH

Yunho’s been working late, you feel a little cast aside, but as always, he knows exactly how to remind you just how important you are to him.

Warnings: afab reader, reader x yunho, fluff, suggestive themes, gets suggestive at the end, yunho is completely love struck, obsession (not in a creepy way), romantic relationship, slight angst, work-related stress, feeling neglected, established relationship.

note: finally summer!! time to spend every waking moment writing my silly little fics. Planning on churning them out now that i have so much time on my hands lol. As always, definitely not proofread but i do hope you guys enjoy!!

_________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ _________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐ _________ ׂׂૢ་༘࿐

You hum to yourself softly as you lather your legs in moisturiser. You’re perched on the end of the bed, the silk sheets brushing against your skin, your hands run down your body in an almost rhythmic fashion, the motion matching the tune you sing so softly into the air of the empty bedroom.

The room is dim, the curtains drawn, the faint smell of tonight’s dinner creeps into your bedroom, you left some out, you tried to wait until Yunho got home, but your stomach was not even nearly as patient.

You put the lid back onto your body lotion, you stare at the dresser - too far a walk - you decide its not worth it, laying your back onto the bed. Your gown falls open ever so slightly, catching the gentle breeze in the room, which sends a shiver down your body, but it wasn’t uncomfortable, if anything, it was almost exciting. It meant it was getting later in the night, it meant he was coming home.

Yunho had an intense few weeks at work, back to back meetings that stretched for hours, deadlines upon deadlines, insane workloads that kept him up for hours at a time. You told him he needed to rest, but he brushed you off every-time, insisting he works well under pressure, claiming that he can balance everything with ease. You told him you were worried about him, he got defensive, saying there was nothing to worry about, that he was completely fine.

You knew that wasn’t true, you didn’t miss the way he chased your touch every time your hands ran through his hair when you told him off for overworking himself, the way his eyes would flutter closed when you cupped his face to tell him how tired he looked. It was hard to ignore how his face would light up whenever he realised you were still awake when he got home from work, because he could actually spend some time with you, even if it was only brief.

You sighed loudly as you stared at the ceiling, it was getting late, you were getting tired. It was weird having to spend so much time alone recently, Yunho was never really around, and when he was? He was exhausted. He tried though, he really did, but a few moments curled up in the arms of the love of his life sent him to sleep in seconds. You couldn’t help but feel a little neglected, it was a guilty feeling, but one that hung heavy in your heart, you were angry at him for not being able to give you the time of day, you were angry at his work for taking him away form you, you were angry at yourself for just being angry.

Moments passed as you sat with your emotions, getting lost in thought, until you were interrupted by the sound of your bedroom door creaking open.

You sat up with vigilance, feet finding their footing on the floor beneath you.

A familiar head peeked around the door. You chuckled softly.

“I’m awake,” You spoke, Yunho looked almost relieved to see you sat there. He nodded softly, entering the room fully. He gently shut the door behind him, without a word, before he made his way over to you, feet dragging across the floor.

“Whats wrong?” You mutter at him as he approaches you, he shakes his head, not wanting to speak, he looked so fragile your heart sank.

He stood in-front of you for a brief moment before dropping to his knees in-front of you, your brows furrowed but your body moved faster as you were quick to embrace his larger form, spreading your legs to allow him to rest his head on your thighs, your hands automatically tangle in his hair as his arms wrapped around you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispers “And I’m so, so tired,”

Your heart aches seeing him like this, you run your fingers through his hair as you formulate a response.

“I know baby,” You say, soothing him “I know,”

He nuzzles into you more.

“You’re safe here, you’re home now sweetheart,” You remind him.

He nods, mouth opening to speak yet he couldn’t quite find the words.

“I- I’ve been so shitty…” he starts “Work has just been so overwhelming and I’m responsible for so many people and so many things and i-“ he chokes on his words “I haven’t been the best to you,” he whispers “at all.”

He looks up at you.

“I know I’ve been working late, i know i keep disregarding everything you say when you’re concerned about me, i know its because you care,” He turns his head, pressing a kiss to the palm of your hand before he continues “You’re everything to me, i swear,” He sighs deeply, “I’d move the Earth if you said the sun was in your eyes,”

“Yunho..” You breathe.

“I love you so much,” Yunho whispers “And i know its hard, but i promise, please trust me, it’s alot for you i know, but i’m doing this all for us, so you never need to get your hands wet, so you never have to worry about anything,” he reassures “Please..” He begs.

You nod, thumbing his cheek “I trust you,” you say softly “And i love you, so much.”

Yunho closes his eyes in relief. “Be mad at me when i get home, get upset at me, tell me off, all of it.” He meets your eyes again “Just don’t let go of me,”

You take his hand into yours. “I never, ever planned on it.” You assure him.

A small, grateful smile graces his lips.

“Thank you, for everything you do for me,” His eyes are sincere as he speaks, his lips ghosting over your thighs. “And I’m so so sorry for being such an asshole.”

Your breath hitches as his lips press against your thigh.

“Yunho-“ you gulp, he hums softly as he places another kiss on your other thigh.

“Let me,” He demands, but it comes out sounding like a question, a desperate plea. “Let me return the favour, please.”

“Y- You must be so tired Yu,” you whisper. He chuckled tiredly, shaking his head.

“I’m exhausted,” he hums against your skin “But this isn’t the same thing, i could do this forever.” His hands snake around your thighs “Could worship you for a lifetime,” He sighs deeply “gonna worship you in this lifetime..”

You bite your lip at his words, he always had a way of making you melt, his sheer devotion was more than enough to make you putty in his hands, or mouth, to be more literal.

You should say no, tell him he needs to rest, force him to go to bed and sleep, but his whispered promises trailing up your thighs was beyond distracting, it was sinfully addictive, and before you knew it, your gown had somehow ended up bunched around your waist, and your back against the bed as you gave into his wishes.

You were his obsession, his ultimate wish and his biggest desire, everything he did was for you. You were so patient, you trusted him, you waited for him, you had faith in him. He was completely addicted to you, mind, body and soul. He was all yours, completely and utterly yours.

[yungistiny]

SCREAM 2

[ C. San + J. Wooyoung ]

╔══════╗

SNEAK PEAK

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summary: san and wooyoung are ride or die. they’d kill for each other without blinking. and killing for her is the greatest euphoria they have been chasing for far too long.

warnings: killer/dom/bisexual san, killer/switch/bisexual wooyoung, sub reader, depictions of blood, gore and violence, use of drugs and alcohol + more to be added

genre: horror, dark romance, throuple, smut

pairings: ghostface san x afab reader x ghostface wooyoung

word count: tbd

full story coming soon!!!

masterlist

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Los Angeles didn’t get many summer storms, but when they came, they came hard, wild and unexpected, like the city was trying to rinse itself clean in one night. It was well after 2:00 am. The neon sign above Vega’s Dive buzzed weakly through the downpour, flickering like it too was drunk. Inside, the bar was nearly empty, just a few regulars clinging to the last minutes of whiskey soaked solitude while outside, the fighter stumbled onto the slick pavement, boots splashing through shallow puddles. Danny Ruiz, twenty eight, underground darling turned disgrace. A cocky smile tugged at the corner of his lips, even as the alcohol made his steps uneven. He still thought he’d won.

Powder in the eyes, cheap shot, sure. But the crowd roared when San went down, blinded and bleeding. Danny had walked out with the cash and the victory, and in his mind, that made it fair. The rain matted his hair to his forehead, the sharp scent of ozone and wet concrete wrapping around him as he lit a cigarette with fumbling fingers as somewhere behind him, a door creaked. He didn’t turn. Didn’t notice the shadow step out from the alleyway. Didn’t notice the other one already tailing him across the street, boots splashing in time with the thunder.

Two figures. One lean, cloaked in black with a slightly off kilter gait, like a dancer enjoying a private joke. The other, broader, quieter, precision in motion. Both masked. Both deadly.

The cigarette was gone by the time Danny reached the corner of Valentine and 6th, a grimy little intersection where even the streetlights gave up. The only illumination came from flickers of lightning cracking across the sky, brief flashes revealing graffiti covered walls and busted out windows. He muttered to himself as he stepped over a soggy pizza box and into the narrow hallway of his apartment building, a concrete coffin of a place with peeling paint and that ever present reek of mildew, sweat, and leftover Chinese takeout.

Unit 206. The lock stuck, like it always did. He jiggled the key, cursed under his breath. The moment the lock clicked, Danny shoved the door open, kicking aside a pile of junk mail and stepping into the dark. The building was quiet, too quiet. Most of the tenants worked late or didn’t come home at all. The overhead light in his unit buzzed once and died as he grumbled, tossing his keys onto the counter, peeling off his wet jacket. Outside his window, thunder rolled in the echoing silence until the sound of soft, dragging leather across tile caught his attention.

Danny turned, confused, not yet afraid. Then the door to his apartment creaked open… slowly. But no one was there. He walked toward it and stood in the threshold of his shitty little apartment, blinking into the hallway. No one. Just flickering overheads and the sound of rain dripping through the broken skylight near the stairs. Maybe the wind had pushed the door back open. Or maybe he hadn’t closed it all the way. That’s what he told himself. Still, he locked it this time. Triple bolt. Slamming it shut and turning around only to freeze.

His kitchen light was on now and it hadn’t been before. And standing directly beneath it, like a fucked up painting brought to life, was a figure in a long black robe and a gleaming Ghostface mask. The fabric clung wetly to his chest, his head tilted ever so slightly to the side. Playful and mocking as a gloved hand tapped a kitchen knife against his thigh, casual, like he was considering how to use it.

Danny stumbled back a step, heart climbing up his throat. “Who the fuck…”

“Oh, Danny boy,” the voice crooned, playful and syrup slick through the modulated distortion. “You didn’t really think that cheap trick would go unpunished, did you?” The mask tilted again, almost amused as Danny’s eyes darted to the hallway. Too far. The window? Nailed shut. The fire escape? Blocked by an old dresser he never moved. “I mean…. powder? Really? What’s next? Thumbtacks in the gloves? Banana peels in the ring?” Ghostface took a step forward, boots squelching on the wet floor. “San could’ve gone blind, you know. Which would’ve been very inconvenient for me. He’s the only one who knows how to make my coffee just right.”

Danny lunged for the drawer where he kept an old hunters knife, but Ghostface was already there, quicker, smoother, grabbing his wrist and slamming it against the counter. The distorted laugh echoed in the tiny space, and Ghostface leaned in close, mask nearly touching Danny’s face. “You don’t get to win dirty and walk away, sweetheart. Not in our city.” He brought the blade up to Danny’s throat, not slicing, not yet, just resting it there. Just enough for Danny to feel the cold edge of inevitability. “Any last words for the crowd, champ?”

Danny tried to spit in his face, but the mask tilted back just in time, unbothered. “Cute,” Ghostface said. “But not original.” Danny’s breath sawed in and out of his lungs, raw and ragged. “Y… You’re crazy,” he hissed, cradling his bruised wrist, stumbling back as the Ghostface in the kitchen stalked toward him, blade twirling with flair. “You’re fucking insane!”

“Aw, come on,” Wooyoung said behind the mask, voice light, teasing and mean. “That’s not very gratitude core of you. I did wait until you got home, didn’t I?” Danny’s spine met the edge of the counter as he backed up and kept backing, heart pounding, eyes wide, completely missing the second figure emerging from the hallway behind him. The second Ghostface was silent. Still. Watching and waiting as Danny took one more step and collided hard with something solid. He turned, gasping and the second Ghostface shoved him backward with both hands right into Wooyoung’s waiting arms.

“Gotcha,” Wooyoung purred, plunging the knife deep into Danny’s gut with an elegant little twist, like he was carving a ribbon into a present. Danny choked, a wet, guttural sound as he stumbled back, eyes wide, hands flying to the fresh wound. Blood poured out in thick, dark ropes as he staggered toward the hallway, hand leaving smeared red fingerprints on the wall as he gasped for air and ran, pure instinct, blind and stumbling toward the only thing that made sense, his bedroom. He didn’t even realize he was screaming as his legs barely carried him across the threshold, crashing into the dresser as he scrambled to shut the door behind him but it didn’t click all the way.

And it didn’t matter. Because the soft sound of boots against tile was still coming. Steady. Rhythmic and mocking as Danny collapsed to the floor, crawling now, fingers reaching for the phone on his nightstand because like an idiot he realized he left his damn cell at the bar, he knocked over a lamp, the shade crashing to the ground and just as he wrapped his trembling hand around the phone…..

The bedroom door opened. Two figures stood in the frame, Ghostface masks grinning like death itself had a sense of humor. Danny was gasping now, one hand pressed to the gaping wound in his abdomen, the other slick with blood as he tried to crawl backward, away from the figures in the doorway. His legs weren’t working right. His vision was blurring. He could barely hear over the sound of his own panicked breathing as one of them stepped forward. The broader one. Quieter.

Ghostface didn’t speak. Just crossed the room in slow, even strides and then without ceremony, dropped to a knee in front of him and Danny flinched, eyes wild as the knife in the masked figure’s hand came down, not into him, but into the floorboards. Buried there with a sudden crack, the blade quivering in place beside Danny’s shaking leg. And then, slowly, purposefully, the figure reached up and pulled the mask off.

It was San. His dark hair was soaked, sweat and rain glistening on his jaw, and his eyes, those soft, sweet eyes the crowd always underestimated, were dark and unreadable now. Calm. Cold. He didn’t speak at first. Just looked at Danny, head tilted, watching him squirm as Danny’s expression crumpled with shock, disbelief crawling over his features. “No…” he breathed, shaking his head. “No fucking way…”

San’s voice was steady. Quiet. Almost gentle. “You could’ve fought clean.”

Danny’s lip curled, rage flaring like a last ditch defense mechanism. “You serious? You’re gonna kill me over a fight?”

San’s mouth twitched just slightly as Danny barked out a bitter laugh. “What the fuck….” He nodded toward the second Ghostface still standing in the doorway, knife gleaming. “That your boyfriend under that one?”

“Why does everyone think we’re dating?” Wooyoung’s voice snapped through the modulator, dripping with exasperation and theatrical offense. He stepped into the room with a dramatic flair, unbothered by the gore or tension. “Is it the matching masks? The coordinated kills? The cohabitation? We only fucked a few times. Calm down.” He peeled his mask off as he walked, revealing a grin that didn’t reach his eyes and a smudge of blood on his cheek like war paint. He crouched beside San, elbow brushing his as he glanced down at Danny like he was barely more interesting than a popped tire.

“Anyway,” Wooyoung added, tone light, “if I was gonna date someone, it wouldn’t be a guy who wears camo to dinner.” San didn’t react. He just reached over and yanked the knife from the floor, jaw set as he wiped a thumb across his knuckles methodically, like someone tidying up after dinner. “I don’t… like dirty players,” he said, voice low and even, the kind of voice that made the room feel colder even though the apartment was still thick with humidity and the smell of hot cigarettes. He never shouted. He didn’t need to.

Wooyoung moved before Danny could draw a breath. Fast, practiced, an arm wrapping around Danny’s chest, pinning him as if the man were already a coat to be shrugged off. Danny thrashed, fist and elbow flailing, panic making him clumsy and loud as San stepped forward, the knife gleaming dull under the single buzzing bulb. He didn’t hesitate. There was no flourish, no dramatic pause, just the brutal efficiency of a man who knew exactly how to end something and had done it before.

One movement and the blade found the first eye. Danny’s scream tore out of him, a raw, animal sound that bounced off the cheap plaster and disappeared into the stairwell. He clawed at San’s hand, fingers scrabbling for purchase on wet tile. His hands left frantic streaks across the counter as he tried to push away, to shove, to move. San’s face didn’t change. He pushed the knife again, the second time more deliberate, and then the first eye stilled in Danny’s face like an impossible, awful punctuation. He blinked when there was nothing left to blink with, a wet, ragged blink that made him choke.

Wooyoung’s grip tightened and his free hand found Danny’s jaw and tilted the head up so San could reach the other side. There was a mechanical calm to the way the two of them moved together, one holding, one finishing, ritualized and cold. When the second movement came, Danny’s scream broke into a wet, keening sound. He slammed backwards, palms skidding against the floor, knees giving out. For a frantic second his hands clawed at the doorway, at the floor, at any texture that would anchor him as he stumbled to his feet with the disoriented momentum of someone trying to wake from a nightmare.

Blood and rain slicked the tiles, but everything else was a jagged, muffled world. He lurched toward the bedroom window like a man trying to find the exit in darkness, boots slipping on the plastic that had been tracked in from the hallway. He fumbled with the latch, hands trembling so badly they couldn’t form a coherent motion. San and Wooyoung followed, shadows advancing with them, Wooyoung’s laugh was soft, almost conversational, like someone commenting on weather. San kept his face angled down, his breathing measured as Danny threw the window open and there was air, wet and sharp, and instinct, and the stupid bright idea that maybe the fall would jar him back to sense.

He didn’t look down. He tried to climb, tried to pull himself up on the narrow balcony rail, but his balance was gone. The world spun. He crashed through with a flailing, desperate momentum, the lattice tearing like paper. There was a horrible, single instant of suspended weight as his body cleared the sill and then dropped, a graceless, terrible arc and hit the pavement below with a finality that sucked the sound right out of the rainy night.

On the balcony, San didn’t move for a long, steady breath. Wooyoung looked down once, face unreadable for a heartbeat, then turned back toward the doorway like they were leaving a party they hadn’t enjoyed. San slid the knife back into his boot as if it were an inconvenient utensil as Wooyoung clipped the mask back on and offered San a crooked half smile, a private thing between them, before they folded back into the hallway’s shadow and disappeared down the stairs, leaving the apartment to the buzzing light and the rain.

Down below, the street absorbed the body without ceremony. The city, which had been trying to wash itself clean, simply kept on raining.

꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶ ꒷꒦︶꒷꒦︶

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @seungminniemin @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @love--in-stayville @hartsablaze @remi-young @bubbly-moon @fvxyxnh0 @herpoetryprincess @prchiquita8 @dreamgirlevilera @booposaurusrex @onecursedkitty @dvrktvnnel @atinynoona @metalheadatiny @uchihabbynic @eggielix @dodot04lover @thenumberoneangelcollection-blog @navydotz @auxiny @chanscappuccino @fixonmingi89

[sannie-young]

⊹₊⟡⋆Lover K.HJ.

Ateez fake texts

Pairing: bff!hongjoong x reader (friends to lovers)

Warnings: language, jealousy, innuendos, suggestive, MDNI, hurt/comfort, teasing, BangChan what are you doing here????

About: Hongjoong is your best friend in the whole world…and more?

Part 2

Masterlist

Taglist:

@lizal1cious @pineapple-burgah @karlee10261990 @galaxygurlll @landsharkfandomtrash @myen2rude @morgangrice18 @dina-10s-blog @ninamarie1994 @hanadulsetaad @dinkiplier @kpopishgirlie @bbokarismeow @little-mix-fan-forever @xxitsalliebearxx @kingsqueensandvagabonds @hanadulsetaad @itsseohannbin @cosmicbinx @whyiskpoptakingovermylife @delicatechris @yeeyeeilacktherapy-blog @starrgirrl @h-dw @bigchudpickleman @hitoxicity @melodyladean @chandlxa @chandlxa @groovyravenagain @mingi-buffering-24-7 @ozzysoatsolivesandpasta @roxas-hearts13 @sa1nt-kitty @narratedforbutterflies

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[yungistiny]

smoke

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which yunho is a cloud of smoke and emotions and everything you need

warning: hard dom/possessive yunho, he’s also a drug dealer, sub reader, yunho is big, throat fucking, masturbation, fingering, tongue fucking, spanking, choking, squirting, multiple orgasm, edging, overstimulation, creampie, mentions of smoking and use of drugs

genre: smut

pairing: dealer yunho x afab reader

word count: 11.2k

note: I have had multiple requests for a smoking yunho one shot since his movie dropped so here yall go 😭

masterlist

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The sun was low enough to blind you, slicing between buildings as you trudged the final block to your apartment, heels in one hand, bag slung over your shoulder like a weight you’d gladly yeet into traffic. Your blouse was sticking to your back, your jaw hurt from clenching through meetings, and your boss, who you were convinced had a personal vendetta against happiness, had made a passive aggressive comment about your “attitude” before you even had a chance to clock out.

You were so close to going full office menace and flipping her desk. Instead, you’d smiled. Nodded. Internalized the rage like a professional. And now your feet were burning, your head was pounding, and all you wanted was a shower hot enough to peel your skin off.

That was before you saw him. Yunho. Leaning against the brick wall just outside the building’s front steps, one foot kicked back behind him, the other planted solid like he was the only thing keeping the sidewalk from cracking open. Cigarette perched between his lips, blunt tucked behind his ear like an afterthought, a slow curl of smoke escaping with every exhale.

He was mid deal, low murmurs exchanged with a guy slouched in a black Altima idling at the curb. The window was rolled halfway down, and the customer’s face was mostly obscured, but you could see cash flash between fingers. Quick, efficient, clean. Yunho’s hand slipped into his hoodie pocket, traded something unmarked in a small bag, and pulled the cigarette from his mouth as he leaned forward to say something you couldn’t hear.

Your chest clenched, not from fear, not even from judgment. Just from the sheer… existence of him. God, he looked good in the dying light. Hood up, casting part of his face in shadow. Gray sweats low on his hips. A plain black hoodie unzipped just enough to show a sliver of skin at his collarbone. That stupid necklace he always wore, black braided chord with a chipped shark tooth that glinted when he moved.

You didn’t stop. You were exhausted, sticky, annoyed, and pretending you didn’t notice him was easier than dealing with the way your stomach flipped every time he looked at you. But you should’ve known better.

“Y/N!”

His voice came as you passed, rough around the edges from the smoke. Lazy and deep, making you pause, turning, already knowing what you’d see. Yunho was watching you. His deal was done, car door shut, engine pulling away into traffic. He stood up straighter, still holding the cigarette, watching you with those dark, unreadable eyes. “You look like you just murdered someone.”

“Not yet,” you muttered, stepping closer without meaning to. “Give me five minutes and a blunt.” That made him smile. Barely. Just the corner of his mouth tilting up like he knew something you didn’t. He held up a hand, tapping the back of his ear where the blunt was tucked. “Shower first,” you added, pointing a warning finger at him as you trudged toward the front door. “Or I’ll actually cry.”

“Couch’ll be ready,” he said casually, taking another drag. “You want food?” You stopped in your tracks, turning back with a squint. “What kind?” He shrugged, exhaled smoke. “Whatever keeps you from catching a felony charge tomorrow.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

You knocked once, then let yourself in. Yunho’s apartment was dim and warm, the way it always was, lights low, one candle burning on the coffee table, the scent of sandalwood and weed wrapping around you like a blanket. You knew he wouldn’t mind. You’d showered back in your own place, dressed down into soft pajama pants and a tshirt, hair damp and tied up loosely on your head. Comfort mode activated.

Ghost, Yunho’s spoiled rotten grey persian cat, sat perched on the back of the couch, her yellow eyes narrowing as you walked in like she hadn’t spent the last week curled against your side any time you stayed too long. Ungrateful little princess.

Yunho was already on the couch, blunt between his fingers, hoodie unzipped over a black tank top and gray sweats low on his hips. One leg stretched out, the other bent casually beneath him like he had no idea how good he looked. Or maybe he did and just didn’t care. “You want first hit?” he asked, nodding to the blunt.

You flopped down beside him with a sigh, legs folding under you as you leaned into the cushions. “Please. If I don’t, I’ll scream. I was one per my last email away from catching a case today.” He chuckled and passed it over, watching you take a long, grateful drag. It hit smooth, warm, a little sweet, your favorite mix. Of course he remembered.

You let the smoke curl from your lips, then handed it back. “You spoil me.”

“I like when you’re not homicidal,” he said, taking it between his fingers again. “Less paperwork.”

You were both mid laugh when the knock came. Three sharp raps. You froze. Your smile slipped as Yunho looked toward the door, jaw tightening. “Fuck,” you muttered, already standing. There was only one person you knew who knocked like that.

Yunho didn’t move. He just leaned back, arm on the couch, still holding the blunt as he watched you walk across the room and opened his door. Chris, your boyfriend for the last year, stood there, looking like Wall Street’s worst export in a wrinkle free shirt and overpriced cologne. His expression twisted the second he saw you, casual, comfortable, relaxed, like you’d committed some betrayal by being cozy without him. “What are you doing here?”

You rolled your eyes. You would ask him the same thing but that’s how you met. Yunho was his dealer. “I’ve been calling you,” he said, stepping into the apartment like he owned it. You backed up automatically, shoulders stiff. “Phone’s charging. I was decompressing.”

Chris’s eyes shifted past you, to the couch, to Yunho, still lounging like a storm waiting to happen. “You were decompressing with him?” he asked, voice sharp. “I live across the hall, remember,” you snapped. “It’s not like I flew to Cabo with the guy.”

Chris’s jaw worked. “You’re high?” Yunho finally moved. Just a slight shift of posture, sitting up straighter, ash flicked into the tray, blunt balanced between his knuckles. Calm. Controlled. Dangerous. “She came over after a long day,” Yunho said evenly. “I’m her friend, remember?”

Chris ignored him. “You got off work and came straight here?”

“Chris,” you warned, “I’m not in the mood.” He turned on Yunho instead. “You really think it’s okay to get high with someone else’s girlfriend?” That was it. Yunho stood. Not fast. Not loud. Just stood, all six feet plus of calm fury in a black hoodie and sweats, smoke curling past his lips like a warning sign. “I think it’s not okay,” he said lowly, stepping forward, “for you to walk into my apartment like you own her.”

Chris took a step back and Yunho didn’t stop. “You came to buy pills, right? Or just flex?” Chris flinched. “I… whatever, man. I’ll get what I came for.” Yunho pulled a small bottle from his hoodie pocket and tossed it toward Chris without a word.

“I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” You didn’t even look back just followed Chris across the hall to your own apartment, Chris stood there, arms crossed like he had something important to say, but when he looked at you, really looked at you, it wasn’t with concern.

It was accusation. “You gonna tell me what the fuck that was?” You blinked, stunned. “Are you serious?”

“Don’t act like that didn’t look bad,” he said, brushing past you into the apartment like it was his. You turned to follow, eyes already burning. “I wasn’t doing anything.”

“You were in his apartment,” he snapped. “Getting high, in your pajamas, laughing with him…”

“I went over for food and a blunt because I had a shitty day,” you shot back, louder now. “And you showed up like a fucking warden…”

“I am your boyfriend,” he said, stepping closer. “You think I’m just gonna be cool with you spending the night over there?”

Your heart slammed once, hard. “First of all,” you said through clenched teeth, “I wasn’t spending the night. And second, maybe you should focus less on me being around Yunho and more on why you need to pop two percs just to get through a Monday.”

That one landed. Chris’s face went still. His voice, when it came, was colder. “So now you’re judging me?”

“I’m exhausted,” you hissed. “I had one fucking hour to myself and you ruined it. Again.”

“Oh, I ruined it?” he scoffed, throwing his hands up. “You’re acting like I caught you cheating!”

“Cheating?” you repeated, laughing once without humor. “You think I’m the problem? You…. you buy drugs from my neighbor, barge into his apartment, embarrass me, and then act like I’m the one sneaking around?”

He stared at you. Then shrugged. “I don’t trust him,” Chris said simply, like that settled it. “I don’t like the way he looks at you.” You stared at him for a long, stunned second. Then shook your head and walked toward the door. “Get out.”

“What?”

You grabbed the handle, opened it wide. “I said get out.”

“You’re kicking me out? Over this?”

“Over everything,” you said, voice shaking. “I’m tired, Chris. I’m tired of explaining basic respect to a grown man.” He hesitated, just for a moment. But your face said you weren’t bluffing. He muttered something under his breath, grabbed his keys, and stormed out.

You shut the door before the sound of his footsteps disappeared down the hall. And for a long time… you just stood there. Not angry. Not sad.

Just empty.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

You should’ve seen it coming. The way your boss called you into her office without a real reason. The way she wouldn’t meet your eyes. The way your badge was deactivated before you even made it back to your desk. “We’re downsizing,” she’d said.

You didn’t buy it. But what could you do? You packed your things, rode the subway in silence, and walked the final three blocks home through rain so heavy it felt personal. No umbrella. No coat. Just your hoodie soaked through, hair plastered to your face, bag clutched to your chest like it could protect you from anything other than everything.

You hit the building’s steps at the same time Yunho did. He was dressed for the weather in his own way, hood up, cigarette tucked between his lips, hands deep in his hoodie pockets. His sweatpants were soaked halfway up the leg. He looked at you, blinked once, and immediately flicked the cigarette into the street. “Hey,” he said, voice calm like thunder wasn’t rattling the city behind you. “You good?”

You didn’t answer. Just shook your head once and kept walking, Yunho following you silently. The two of you made it to the front door at the same time, and as soon as Yunho keyed in the code and swung it open, the building groaned. The lights above fizzled once and went black.

You both paused. “Shit,” he muttered as you let out a breath and took the first step up the stairs. “Come on. Ghost’ll panic if the power stays out.” He huffed a small laugh and followed because of course you remember his cat hates thunderstorms.

It was dark, humid, the air thick with storm and silence. His footfalls matched yours as you climbed, heavy and unhurried. You were halfway up the second floor when lightning lit up the windows for half a second and then came the sound. A zipper. You turned the corner and froze.

He didn’t see you right away. Chris. Standing just outside an apartment door, not yours, not even close. His back was to you, shirt half untucked, zipper just sliding up as a familiar voice giggled from inside. Donna. A girl Yunho has turned down multiple times. Same girl who flirted with Chris right in front of you once.

Your stomach dropped so fast it felt like falling through the floor as Chris turned. His eyes met yours and he froze, like a kid caught with his hand in the cookie jar. Yunho was two steps behind you, and he came up short the moment he registered what you were staring at.

Chris opened his mouth. Closed it. His face drained of color. “Baby…. I…”

You blinked as Donna called lazily from inside, voice echoing down the stairwell. “Hey, you left your belt…” She stopped short when she saw you.

“You fucking asshole,” Yunho muttered, stepping forward. You didn’t move. Couldn’t. You were shaking. Wet. Fired. And now humiliated.

Chris finally tried to speak again. “It’s not what it…”

“Shut the fuck up,” Yunho snapped, loud now. “Don’t say one more word to her.” Chris squared up, but it was weak, defensive and guilty. “This isn’t your business.” Yunho laughed. But it wasn’t funny. It was the kind of laugh people give when they’re one wrong word from swinging.

“She is my business,” Yunho said, stepping closer. “She always fucking has been.” That made Chris stop cold as Yunho looked at you. “Come on,” he said softly, holding his hand out. “Let’s go.” You didn’t take it. But you did turn away. One step. Two. Yunho followed, silent again, letting you feel it. Letting you hold it. Because he knew if he touched you right now, you’d fall apart, and he wouldn’t be able to stop it.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Your apartment was pitch black, the air thick with humidity and silence. You didn’t bother turning on your flashlight. Just leaned back against the closed door and exhaled for the first time since you saw Chris outside Donna’s. Zipping up his pants like it was nothing. Like you were nothing. Your breath came out shaky, but no tears followed. Not this time. You didn’t feel sadness. You didn’t even feel rage. What washed over you, slow and warm and terrifying, was something simpler.

Relief. He made it easy. After all the gaslighting. After all the guilt tripping. After making you question yourself for months… He made it so easy.

You pushed off the door, stripped as you walked, clothes wet and clinging. The rain had seeped through everything, down to your skin, into your bones. In the bathroom, the darkness was nearly complete. You lit a candle on the edge of the sink, then stepped into the shower, letting the warm water hit your neck, your shoulders, the back of your skull.

You didn’t cry. You didn’t speak. You just stood there, steam rising into the black, hands braced against the tile as the rain from outside continued to pound against the building. But it couldn’t reach you here. You were done. Done being made to feel small. Done being someone’s accessory. Done hiding in other people’s shadows.

Chris made it easy. And Yunho… Yunho never asked you to be anything but yourself.

You toweled off slowly, letting your hair stay damp and wild. Pulled on a pair of pajama shorts, soft and worn. A tank top, no bra. Bare feet. Clean skin.

The apartment was still dark. The hallway was darker as you opened the door without thinking and padded across the hall, body warm from the shower but still buzzing with something else. Need, maybe. Or clarity. Yunho’s door wasn’t locked. It never was. Not for you. You pushed it open gently, and found the apartment lit by nothing but the flicker of the same candle he’d always had burning, low, honey toned, barely lighting his living room.

He was on the couch, hoodie off, hair damp too now like he’d also showered. A second blunt was burning in the ashtray. Ghost was curled on the far cushion, tail flicking slowly. He looked up the second you stepped in. And didn’t say a word. He just… waited.

You stopped in front of him, looked down. And without a word, you reached up and pulled the blunt from behind his ear. His eyes followed your fingers the entire way. You didn’t light it. You sat down next to him, sinking into the couch like your bones had finally given out, like this was the only place your body trusted.

Ghost purred at you before jumping down and padding her way into the kitchen. The silence stretched as you exhaled, one short breath. Dry. Bitter. “So,” you said, eyes on the unlit blunt. “I got fired today.” Yunho blinked slowly, posture still, unreadable.

“And I found out I’ve been getting cheated on,” you continued, a hollow laugh catching in your throat. “So now I’m single. Unemployed. And apparently Donna’s sloppy seconds.”

Yunho’s head turned toward you, sharp and fast. But you weren’t done as you finally looked at him. “That’s a pretty solid Friday, right?” His jaw clenched. You saw it, just barely, in the flicker of the candle. But his hands stayed relaxed, resting on his thighs, like he was keeping himself still on purpose. Like one wrong move might make you bolt.

He didn’t speak.

You didn’t either.

You just looked at him, really looked, for the first time in a long time. At the way his throat moved when he swallowed. At the way he looked at you like this, you, broken, barefoot, smelling like sandalwood and stormwater, was the most important thing he’d ever seen. And you wondered why the hell it took this long.

You lit the blunt with Yunho’s silver lighter, your thumb finding the groove worn into it from years of use, and took the first hit. It was smoother than you expected. Warm in your chest. Calming in a way nothing else had been all week. You handed it back to him without a word.

He didn’t speak still, just took it between his lips, leaned back, eyes half lidded, and exhaled like it was a release he’d been holding in for days.

One hit turned into two. Then a second blunt. He rolled it in silence, hands skilled and calm, and you watched him, watched his fingers, the press of his thumb, the flick of his lighter. Like a ritual. Like therapy. He passed it to you as you curled your legs underneath you, leaning into the arm of the couch, letting the high settle low in your belly, fog your brain just enough to let your shoulders drop.

The candle burned lower. The storm outside got louder. By the third blunt, you were gone enough to let the words tumble out. You turned to him slowly, eyes heavy, mouth soft, “You’re quiet.”

Yunho didn’t look at you at first. Just took another slow pull and let the smoke curl from his lips, rising into the dim air like a question. “I’ve been trying not to say the wrong thing,” he said finally, voice low and rough, laced with that edge you’d only ever heard when he was defending you. “Because if I do… I won’t be able to stop.”

You blinked, the high sharpening the sound of his voice like it had teeth as he passed the blunt back, but didn’t move closer. “Chris never deserved you,” he continued, eyes locked on the floor. “Not for one second. Not the first time he showed up here pretending he owned you. Not the first time I heard you crying through the wall. Not the night you fell asleep on my couch holding my hoodie like it was the only thing keeping you together.”

Your breath caught.

“I should’ve told you,” he said. “But I didn’t want to be that guy. The one waiting for his moment. I didn’t want to use your pain as an excuse to say what I’ve wanted to say for almost two years.”

You swallowed. “Which is?”

He looked at you then. Really looked. “That I’ve been in love with you since the night you knocked on my door barefoot and furious and didn’t apologize for either.”

Your chest cracked open. There were no fireworks. No music swell. Just the silence between you stretching thinner and thinner until it couldn’t hold anymore.

You moved slowly. Not rushed. Not unsure. You crawled into his lap like you’d always belonged there, one leg over his thigh, hands finding his jaw. He froze, like he didn’t believe it. Like this was another one of his dreams as you took the blunt from his mouth. Took a hit. Held it. And then leaned in, close enough to brush your nose against his, and exhaled into his mouth just before your lips touched his.

The kiss was soft at first. Careful. Like a question neither of you had dared to ask until now. But when his hand slid up your back, slow and firm, and your fingers fisted in the front of his tank,

that question became a promise. The kiss deepened faster than either of you expected. What started soft, your lips ghosting his, that lazy exhale of smoke between you, became a slide, a grip, a need.

Yunho’s hands found your thighs first, fingers pressing into bare skin just beneath the hem of your pajama shorts like he couldn’t help himself. You moved instinctively, rolling your hips forward just enough to make him groan into your mouth. “Fuck,” he breathed against your lips. “You’re high. We should stop…”

You kissed him again before he could finish. “So are you.” Your tongue dragged against his as your fingers threaded through his hair and tugged, just enough to make him tilt his head back, exposing the curve of his throat. You mouthed along it, lips brushing the skin just beneath his jaw.

His hands slid up your sides, tank top bunching beneath his palms, and he pulled you flush against him, the bulge in his sweats pressing hard between your thighs. Your bodies slotted together like a secret neither of you could keep anymore. You felt his hand reach blindly toward the ashtray, grabbing the blunt, burnt nearly to the end now. He brought it to his lips, lit it again, and took one last pull, eyes still on you. Then he handed it back.

You took it between your lips, hit it slow, watching his mouth as he watched yours. You didn’t blow the smoke away this time. You kissed it into him. Your mouth open over his, smoke curling between tongues, lips sliding messy and perfect and greedy. His hands were everywhere now, your waist, your thighs, your back, like he couldn’t choose, like he was starving.

You dropped the blunt into the tray without looking. And then you started rocking. Slow at first, just a tease of friction between your bodies. Yunho’s head dropped against the couch cushion, eyes half lidded as he hissed through his teeth. “Jesus,” he whispered. But you didn’t stop. You kissed him again, harder this time, lips dragging, teeth nipping, hips grinding down like you’d been waiting for this exact moment since the day you met him.

He growled low in his chest, hands gripping your thighs tighter. “You’re torturing me.” You smirked, breath hot against his cheek. “You like it.” He pulled back just far enough to look at you. “Yeah,” he said, voice rough and reverent. “I really fucking do.”

You finished the blunt together in slow, stolen breaths, legs still straddling him, fingers lazily tangled in the hem of his shirt, mouths brushing in between every pull. By the time it burned down to ash, the air around you was thick with heat and smoke and everything unsaid. You felt weightless. Feral. Like you could crawl inside him and still not be close enough.

Your hand moved to his jaw, thumb brushing the corner of his mouth where your kiss had already smudged the remnants of ash and affection. And Yunho just… watched you. His eyes darker now. Hooded. Lips slightly parted, breath shallow, chest rising a little too fast for someone trying to keep control.

Then he moved. Quick and quiet and sudden, he flipped you onto your back in one smooth motion, your body sinking into the cushions beneath you before you had a chance to gasp. But you did gasp. Because now he was over you. One hand beside your head, the other firm on your thigh, keeping you spread beneath him. His hips pressed down just enough to make you feel how hard he’d been, how hard he still was. But he didn’t grind. He didn’t rut.

He held back. Barely. His mouth found your neck like it belonged there, lips warm and open, tongue dragging slow along your pulse before he kissed like it was his only way of staying in control. You moaned before you could stop yourself, hips twitching up into him. That’s when you felt it. The shift. Yunho groaned, a low sound buried against your skin, and his hand on your thigh tightened. He breathed you in like he was trying to memorize you. And when he pulled back just enough to look at you, it wasn’t soft anymore.

Not fully. His voice dropped, deeper, slower, like he was trying not to say something. Like he was biting down on instinct. “If you knew the shit I think about when you sit on my couch like that…” His hand slid under your tank top, fingers rough against your bare skin, but he still didn’t touch where you wanted.

Not yet.

“I’m not soft, baby,” he murmured, dragging his lips back to your throat. “Not like this.” Your breath caught. Your hands grabbed at his shirt, at his back, trying to pull him closer as he kissed you again, harder this time, tongue sweeping against yours as his body pressed down into yours, making you feel the full weight of what he was holding back.

His tongue slid against yours, heat crashing between your bodies like it had been waiting years to finally break free. His hands were on your thighs, your hips, under your tank, gripping like he didn’t know where to start because he wanted all of you. And then he stilled. Just for a second. Just long enough to pull back, eyes locked on yours, voice low and rough and dangerous as it dropped into the space between your lips. “Tell me what you want.”

Not needy. Not desperate. A command disguised as a question as you stared up at him, breath catching, heat pooling low in your stomach like lava. And you didn’t flinch when you reached for his face, thumb brushing his jaw. “I want you to ruin me.”

The sound Yunho made wasn’t human. It came from somewhere deeper, darker, pulled straight from the part of him he’d buried since the day you moved in across the hall. His mouth crashed back into yours like he’d been starved, tongue claiming, hands no longer hesitant, gripping your hips like handles, grinding down into you now, letting you feel every inch of how hard he was through the thin barrier of sweats and your shorts.

He kissed you like he meant to wreck you. And this time? He wasn’t holding back. Kissed you hard, deep, almost desperate, and then he pulled back just enough to grip your waist and drag you up with him. You moved together like gravity didn’t matter anymore, like the air had shifted in your lungs and the only thing keeping you grounded was him.

Your body pressed to his, chest to chest, your breath hot against his jaw. He didn’t speak. Just reached for the hem of your tank top and pulled it up slowly, his fingers dragging along your sides like he was learning you by touch. He didn’t rush, didn’t tear it away, he wanted this moment. Wanted to see you. All of you.

The second it was over your head, his eyes dropped. His hands followed. And you watched his mouth part, just slightly, like he couldn’t believe what was in front of him even though he’d imagined it a thousand times. Then he reached for the waistband of your shorts. Still no words. Just the slide of his knuckles against your skin as he dragged them down, slow, his palms brushing the sides of your thighs until you were in front of him in nothing but your panties, flushed and high and buzzing.

Your hands shook just a little when you reached for his shirt. But you didn’t hesitate. You grabbed the hem, tugged it upward, and he let you. His arms lifted, slow and controlled, and you pulled it off over his head revealing sweat slick skin, lean muscle, the soft trail of hair beneath his navel that made your mouth go dry.

His chest rose and fell with each breath, and god, he was beautiful. But it was the way he looked at you that wrecked you. Like he wanted to devour.

Like he wanted to worship. Like he wanted to do both and never stop.

He leaned back in close, lips brushing your jaw, your ear, his voice low and thick with hunger. “Still want this?”

You didn’t answer his question. Didn’t whisper yes.

Didn’t give him permission. You just looked up at him, his flushed chest rising fast, lips parted, pupils blown wide, and reached down. Your fingers found the waistband of his sweatpants and pulled. He didn’t stop you. Didn’t speak. He just stood there, watching you with a hunger so sharp it cut right through the haze of weed and heat. His hands flexed at his sides, knuckles twitching like it physically hurt not to touch you while you undressed him.

You dragged the sweats down his hips slow, savoring it, teasing him without even meaning to. And when they dropped, you froze. Fuck. Your breath hitched just enough for him to catch it.

Because there was no ignoring it. Yunho wasn’t just big. He was thick, long, heavy against his thigh, already hard and twitching slightly like he’d been barely keeping it together this whole time. You blinked. And maybe, for a second, he thought you’d hesitate. But all it did was make your thighs press together.

You looked up at him again, and he was smirking now. Not cocky. Not smug. Hungry. Like he just saw something crack in you and couldn’t wait to slip into the space it left behind. “Not what you’re used to?” he asked, voice rough with restraint, lips brushing your temple as he leaned in, one hand finallyfinding your hip again.

You didn’t answer that either. You didn’t need to. Because when your hand reached out and wrapped around him, testing the weight, the thickness, the way his breath stuttered in his throat… You both knew. This was about to ruin you. Exactly like you asked for.

Your head was spinning in the best way, hazy from the blunt, skin buzzing, mouth dry and aching to be filled. You could feel everything. Every inch of him against your palm, the heat radiating off his body, the tension humming under his skin like a coil about to snap. And you didn’t want sweet. You didn’t want slow.

You wanted him to fuck your mouth until your knees gave out.

You dropped to the floor without a word, the carpet soft beneath your knees as your hand trailed down his thigh. Yunho froze, one hand still hovering like he wasn’t sure this was really happening. “Y/N,” he breathed, voice wrecked already, like just the sight of you on your knees had short circuited his brain. “You sure?”

You looked up at him through your lashes, lips parted, pupils blown wide. Then you leaned forward and licked a slow stripe up the length of his dick, heavy, hot, already leaking for you, before you wrapped your lips around the tip and sucked, hard, making Yunho groan, his hand flying into your hair, fingers curling tight like he couldn’t stop himself. “Fuck…”

You smiled around him. Because that’s what you wanted. You bobbed your head slow at first, letting yourself adjust, feeling the stretch, the weight, the heat and god, he filled your mouth so deep it made your eyes sting. But it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you. You pulled off with a wet pop, spit clinging to your chin, and looked up at him. “Don’t hold back.”

His jaw clenched. “Fucking hell,” he muttered, then grabbed your hair tighter and said, “Open for me.” You did. Wide. Tongue out. Eyes locked on his like a challenge. And Yunho? He snapped as he slid his dick back into your mouth in one smooth thrust, deeper this time, his grip tightening in your hair as he began to move, slow at first, testing your limits. But when you moaned around him, when you hollowed your cheeks and sucked like you wanted it rough, he growled low in his throat and picked up the pace.

“Fuck… look at you,” he hissed, hips rolling into your mouth now, each thrust more desperate. “Been thinking about this for so long. You on your knees, lips stretched around me…. mine.” You moaned, nails digging into his thighs as he used your mouth just how you wanted, deep, controlled, filthy. The drag of his dick against your tongue, the way your throat tightened with every thrust, it was dizzying, addictive, perfect.

You couldn’t breathe. You didn’t care. You needed this. Needed him. Yunho’s rhythm faltered just slightly as your hands slipped up, nails scraping his hips, pulling him deeper, begging without words. “Fucking… baby,” he gasped, voice wrecked. “Gonna cum down your throat if you keep doing that.”

The second you moaned around him, Yunho’s whole body shuddered. He wasn’t breathing steady anymore. He wasn’t thinking anymore. He tightened his grip in your hair, hard, and his hips snapped forward on instinct, his dick pushing deeper into your throat with a strangled groan.

And you fucking whimpered around him. It vibrated up his dick like lightning. “Shit… don’t…. fuck, baby,” he panted, voice wrecked, body shaking. “You want it like this?” You blinked up at him with watery eyes, cheeks flushed, and let your tongue flatten beneath him as he fucked your mouth harder, deeper, now with rhythm, now with purpose. He wasn’t holding back anymore.

Every thrust of his hips made your throat tighten, your jaw ache, your body clench around the tension growing deep in your core. Your eyes stung, spit running down your chin, but you didn’t stop. Didn’t even flinch. You welcomed it. And then you reached down. Still kneeling. Still being used. Still so full of him you could barely breathe. Your fingers slipped under your shorts, panties soaked through. One press and you gasped around his dick, lips stretched, throat full, and now two fingers sliding inside yourself like you needed it to survive.

The way Yunho choked on his moan when he saw that?

It was primal. “Holy fuck,” he growled, looking down at you, wrecked, wet, high out of your mind, fucking yourself while he used your throat like it was his. “You’re getting off to this?” You couldn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Your whimpers around him said it all, needy and high pitched, every thrust of your fingers syncing with the thrusts of his dick in your mouth.

Yunho couldn’t take it. He snapped. He gripped the sides of your face, holding you still, and started thrusting in earnest, deep, hard, fast, your throat stretching around him as your fingers moved faster, wetter, your hips rocking forward against your hand like you were chasing it and you were gone. High, fucked, full, and right there on the edge as Yunho looked down at you, chest heaving, watching your body tremble.

“Come,” he growled. “Fucking come for me, baby…. come with my dick down your throat.” His words made you moan so hard around him it nearly made you choke, fingers plunging deeper as your orgasm hit like a goddamn wave, your body jerking, thighs clenching, your whole world going white hot as you came with his dick still buried in your throat.

Yunho’s head dropped back with a groan so low it sounded like it tore out of his chest. “Fuckfuckfuck…. fuck…” he gasped, thrusting deeper one more time as his dick pulsed hard in your mouth and he came down your throat, your name ripped from his mouth like a prayer and a promise in one.

You swallowed every drop and didn’t stop until his grip loosened, his hips stilled, his body trembling over yours. When he finally pulled back, your lips were swollen, your chin slick, your eyes glassy and wet. And you smiled. Wrecked. Glowing. Completely, perfectly ruined already, still kneeling, breath shallow, legs trembling from how hard you’d come, lips shiny and swollen, spit and cum still clinging to your chin.

And Yunho? He looked at you like a man absolutely fucking ruined. But instead of stepping back, instead of cooling off, he reached down, slid his fingers beneath your chin, and pulled you up to him with a slow, firm grip. Your body followed on instinct, weak in the knees, chest rising fast as he dragged your face to his, his eyes locked on your mouth like it had just destroyed him.

Because it had.

He kissed you. Tongue sliding into your mouth, tasting himself on you, and moaning into it like he couldn’t get enough. The low, broken sound that left his chest was pure filth, like the taste of his own cum on your tongue had just snapped whatever thread of self control he had left. His hand moved down, caught your wrist. The one you’d had buried between your legs. And without hesitation, Yunho brought it to his mouth.

You gasped, lips still slick from the kiss as he stared into your eyes and sucked your fingers into his mouth, deep, slow, messy. His tongue slid between them, tasting the cum you’d pulled from yourself, the proof of what he’d done to you, and he moaned again, louder this time. His eyes rolled back for a second like it was too much. Then they snapped back to yours, wild. “Fuck,” he breathed, still sucking. “You taste so fucking good.”

You whimpered as he pulled your fingers out with a wet pop, held your hand against his cheek, then leaned in and kissed you again, deeper, slower, like now that he’d had you once, it wasn’t enough. It would never be enough. “You’re mine now,” he murmured against your lips. “You know that, right?”

You didn’t get a chance to reply as he kissed you like he meant it. Like he owned it. Like claiming your mouth wasn’t enough, he needed more. Needed all of you. And you? You were barely standing. Your legs still shaky, breath short, your body oversensitized and aching again. But Yunho caught you. His arms wrapped around your waist, lifting you like nothing, and he guided you back down onto the couch.

He didn’t speak. He just looked at you for a second, lips swollen, jaw tight, pupils blown wide, and then he dropped to his knees. Slow. Purposeful. Predatory. You watched as he grabbed your thighs and dragged you down the cushions, your hips meeting the edge, legs spread for him like it was instinct.

He didn’t tease. Didn’t kiss around it. He grabbed your legs, strong hands curling behind your knees, and threw them over his shoulders, hooked them there, holding you open for him as he pressed his mouth to your pussy like he’d done it in dreams for years. His tongue thrusted into you. Deep. Unrelenting. Filthy, making you gasp, back arching as the wet slick sound of him fucking you with his mouth filled the room. He moaned into you like your taste was drowning him and he wanted to go under.

His tongue dragged out and pushed back in, over and over, fucking you, hard and rhythmic, lips locked to your soaked core like he was staking a claim. Your fingers flew into his hair. You pulled hard and Yunho groaned, the vibration of it tearing through your cunt like lightning. You ground your hips down against his mouth, chasing it, chasing more, your voice cracking on a moan as he gripped your thighs tighter, holding you in place while he fucked you with his tongue like his life depended on it.

“Yunho…. fuck… oh my god,” you gasped, grinding against his face, his tongue still pumping, his nose bumping your clit, his moans getting louder the messier you got. He never slowed. Didn’t stop. He was growling now, his whole face wet with you, tongue thrusting deep like he was going to make you come on nothing but his mouth. And you were close. So fucking close.

Your thighs trembled around his head, your hands tangled in his hair, and you couldn’t stop it, you didn’t want to. You rode his tongue like it was his dick, grinding down with reckless desperation as his grip bruised your skin and his tongue dove even deeper. “Don’t stop,” you whimpered, high and broken, “Don’t fucking stop…. Yunho…”

And that’s when he growled into you again, loud, his mouth now sliding up, tongue flattening against your clit, lips sucking as his fingers replaced where his tongue had been, two of them sinking deep, thrusting fast and hard, curling, making you scream as you came, shaking under him, sobbing out his name as he held you there, fingers still moving, tongue lapping every drop of your orgasm like he was starved.

Your legs were still shaking when he finally pulled his mouth back from you. His lips were wet. His chin slick with you. But his eyes? Ravenous. He didn’t move far. Just leaned up, slow, controlled, dangerous, and slid two fingers into you without warning. Deep, making you gasp, head falling back, but he caught you, pressed his forehead to yours, eyes locked onto your dazed, fucked out expression as he began to thrust his fingers.

Hard. Rhythmic. Perfect. And he watched. Like it was art. His lips brushed yours, voice raw and deep and filthy. “Do you know how many times I’ve thought about this?” You moaned, breath hitched as he curled his fingers just right, pressing into that spot like he owned it. “How many nights I laid in my bed across the hall, hearing your laugh, wondering what you’d taste like when you’re moaning my name?”

You whined, grinding down into his hand, his thumb just barely brushing your clit now, teasing, like he knew how close you were again already. “I thought about this pussy every time I heard your front door open. Thought about your thighs wrapped around my head every time that fucker made you cry.”

Your eyes rolled back. His forehead stayed pressed to yours, lips barely brushing, your breaths tangled, wet and shaking. “I’d jerk off with the lights off, eyes closed, imagining your mouth, your voice, the way you’d beg when I finally got my hands on you.”

His thumb pressed harder. His fingers moved faster making your hips jerk beneath him. “I knew I’d wreck you. Knew you’d fall apart for me,” he growled, kissing the corner of your mouth, breath hot against your cheek. “But nothing…. prepared me for how fucking perfect you feel.”

You sobbed out his name, eyes glassy, hands fisting the cushions as his fingers plunged into you harder now, wet slick sounds filling the room, your body clenched tight around him. “You gonna come again?” he whispered, filthy and reverent and all you could do was nod.

“Good,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your jaw, voice velvet filth. “I want you to come so hard you forget that asshole’s name. I want you to soak my fucking hand, baby.” You shattered. With a broken cry and your body seizing, you came harder than you ever have, squirting all over his hand, your thighs twitching uncontrollably as his fingers kept moving, pushing you through it, over it, deeper into it.

Yunho, fingers still deep inside you, dripping with your release, smiled, his mouth right at your ear. “Atta girl.”

Your whole body was still trembling, nerves raw, inner thighs soaked from your orgasm and his mouth, his fingers, his fucking words. You were gasping for breath, flushed, barely able to think. But you knew what you wanted. You always had.

You reached for him, fingers curling at his shoulders, dragging him closer and climbed into his lap, one knee at a time, legs shaking as you straddled his thighs. His dick was hard beneath you, angry and twitching, soaked in precum from how long he’d been watching you come undone.

He looked up at you like he wasn’t sure if he was dreaming as you settled into his lap, body hot, aching, needing him inside you now. And you reached between you, wrapped your fingers around the base of his dick, guiding him to your entrance, slick and open and ready. But before you could sink down…

“Wait,” Yunho breathed, eyes wide, voice wrecked and tight as his hand caught your waist. “Let me… fuck…. let me grab a condom…”

And that’s when you shocked him as you leaned forward, kissed him once, slow, messy, claiming, and then you wrapped your hand around his throat. Not hard. Not choking. Just enough pressure to make him freeze. To make his eyes go wide and dark and wild when you leaned in until your lips brushed his ear, voice soft but firm as your hips pressed down just enough for him to feel how wet you still were.

“I’m on the pill.” A beat of silence. Then your voice, softer. Deadlier. “I just never let Chris have me like this…” Your fingers tightened just slightly against his throat.

“but I want you to.” You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes, panting, pupils blown, sweat at your hairline. “I want it raw.” Another pause. “I want you.”

Yunho snapped. His hands gripped your hips so tight you gasped, and his head dropped back against the couch like he was trying not to come from just those words alone. “Fucking hell, baby,” he groaned, voice guttural, grip on your hips tightening, his breathing ragged as he looked up at you, completely stunned, completely wrecked.

“Fuck,” he whispered, almost in disbelief. “You really want it raw?” You just nodded, still holding him, still hovering over him, soaked and aching and so full of need. That was all he needed. He grabbed the base of his dick for you, lined himself up, and whispered, “Come here, baby. Let me feel you.”

You lowered yourself slowly, and the second his head pushed into your soaked entrance, you gasped, sharp, your body jolting as your thighs trembled on either side of his. He was big. You knew it. You’d seen it. You had it in your mouth. You choked on it.

But now?

Now you were feeling it. Stretching you, spreading you open so slow you felt everything, every ridge, every vein, the pressure mounting inch by inch. You bit your lip hard, trying to stay quiet, but a moan broke through anyway as you sank lower. “Shit… Yunho,” you whined, voice shaking, body clenching around him. “You’re… f… fuck, you’re big….”

His hands slid up your waist, grounding you, soothing you. But his voice? His voice was filthy. “Yeah?” he breathed, eyes locked on where you were taking him. “You feel that? That stretch, baby? That’s me.” You whimpered, barely able to breathe as you sank down further, halfway now, and your hips jerked instinctively at how deep he already was making Yunho groan loud, head falling back.

“You feel so fucking good,” he growled. “So tight, so wet…. fuck, baby, you were made for this. Made for me.” You were shaking now, hands on his shoulders, nails digging in as you finally took him all the way, your body settling onto his, dick fully sheathed inside you, walls fluttering around him. You couldn’t hold it in. Your moan was raw, deep and aching, tears burning behind your eyes.

Yunho’s hands were all over you now. One at your waist, the other sliding up your back as he pulled you forward, pressing your chest against his as he started kissing your neck, your jaw, your temple. “Look at how good you take me,” he whispered. “So fucking perfect, baby. You fit me so good…. so deep.”

You clenched around him and he groaned, hips bucking just slightly into you. “God, I’ve wanted this,” he confessed once again, voice rough and low in your ear. “I’ve wanted to feel you like this. Nothing between us. Just you.” You nodded, whimpering as his mouth moved to your ear. “Go ahead,” he rasped. “Move, baby. Ride me.”

You started to move slow. Testing the feel of him inside you, deep, thick, the drag of every inch making your walls flutter, your jaw slack, your thighs already burning. Yunho was panting under you, eyes blown wide as he watched you lift your hips and sink back down again, a broken curse falling from his lips. “Fuck… fuck, baby…. you ride me so good…”

You rolled your hips just right and his head dropped back against the couch, a full bodied moan tearing from his chest as you braced your hands on his shoulders harder, found your rhythm, your pace, the way he filled you perfectly with every slow thrust down. But it wasn’t enough. Not for either of you.

You saw it in the way his hands gripped your waist too tight. The way his hips twitched, trying to thrust up but holding back. The way his lips parted like he wanted to beg. So you leaned forward again, hand sliding up his chest. To his throat. You wrapped your fingers around it, lightly at first, just enough pressure to make him freeze.

His breath hitched. His eyes opened wide. And then he growled. His hips slammed up into you suddenly, so hard it knocked the air out of your lungs. “Harder,” he snarled, voice deep and wrecked. “Don’t be soft now… fuck me harder.” You gasped, moaned, eyes locked as you gripped his throat tighter and started slamming down on his dick, rhythm shifting from sensual to savage.

Your thighs slapped against his, your ass bouncing as you rode him hard, grinding down with every thrust until his hands flew to your hips to steady himself. “Just like that,” he growled. “Just like that, baby…. fuck, you feel so good…. I’m gonna lose my mind.” You tightened your hand around his throat again, just enough to make his breath catch, and his eyes rolled back as his hips thrust up to meet yours.

“Use me,” he groaned. “Ride me like I belong to you. Choke me, baby.” And you did. With your hand around his throat, your body slamming down onto his dick, your soaked pussy clenching every time he bucked up into you, you ruined him. And Yunho? Yunho let you.

Your grip tightened. Just a little more. Just enough to make his breath catch again, that beautiful throat flexing under your fingers as you rode him even harder, slammed down onto him again and again, hips snapping, thighs shaking. And then you clenched. Right as he hit that perfect spot.

Your pussy gripped his dick like a vice, and Yunho choked, hips jerking up into you, one large hand flying back and cracking down on your ass.

Smack.

You moaned. Loud. Eyes fluttering, your body jolting forward from the impact as your walls pulsed hard around him again.

Smack.

Another slap. This time rougher. The sting bloomed hot across your skin, and you clenched again, harder. “

“Fucking…. fuck, baby… don’t do that,” Yunho groaned, eyes screwed shut, chest heaving like he was trying to hold back a storm. “You’re gonna make me come…”

But you didn’t let up. You were too far gone now as you rode him like you were trying to tear the orgasm out of yourself, like it was buried deep inside where only he could reach. And he did making you scream. His name, a prayer and a curse all in one as your body locked up, back arching, thighs trembling around his waist.

“Yunho!”

The sound of it shattered through the room as you came, violently, gushing all over him, soaking his thighs, your walls clenching and pulsing around his dick like you were trying to milk him dry. But he didn’t come. He couldn’t. His muscles were tight, jaw clenched, breath ragged as he held you through it, eyes locked on the mess you’d made of both of you, still inside you.

Throbbing. Rock hard. Twitching every time your walls fluttered around him in the aftershocks of your orgasm. Sweat slicked your skin, your body limp in his lap as you breathed against his shoulder. You had just screamed his name, shattered all over him, and he still hadn’t come.

He growled. Low. Dangerous. Possessive. And then he stood up. His arms slid under your thighs and back, lifting you with zero warning, your legs wrapping around him out of instinct. You gasped when he shifted, still inside you, the thick stretch making your legs jerk around him. Every muscle in his body tensed as he adjusted his grip, holding you tighter, your cunt still hot and soaked and wrapped around his dick like it belonged there.

Every step down the hallway had you trembling. Every slight sway of his hips sent a jolt of overstimulated heat through your core. You could feel him, feel everything.

He kicked the door to his bedroom open. The room was dark, lit only by the hazy orange glow of a streetlamp outside the window, and it smelled like him, woodsy cologne, weed smoke, clean laundry, and something deeper. Like sweat and sex and barely leashed want.

He laid you down in the middle of his bed, your back hitting cool sheets, his hips never pulling back, never even thinking about pulling out. He hovered over you, muscles tight as cables, his hands braced beside your head, dick still buried deep. And then he growled again, low and breathless. “You said you wanted me to ruin you?”

You barely had time to breathe as Yunho shifted above you, his hands gripping your hips before he pulled out and flipped you over. “Face down,” he muttered, voice thick with heat as his palm splayed between your shoulder blades, gently pressing until your chest melted into the mattress.

Your breath hitched. Your ass was up, arched and exposed, while his dick buried itself back inside you, deep, stretching you so perfectly it almost hurt. Yunho cursed under his breath, hips twitching as he stared down at the sight of you. “Fuck,” he breathed, dragging his hand down the slope of your spine. “You don’t even know what you do to me.”

You felt the press of his lips next, soft, kissing down your back. Starting at the nape of your neck, he worked his way lower. Each press of his mouth against your skin was hot, wet, deliberate. “You’ve been driving me crazy for two fucking years,” he whispered between kisses. “Coming home in those tight skirts, those little heels… that laugh… that fucking laugh…”

You moaned, fingers curling into his sheets. “And he had you?” Yunho’s voice dropped, dark and lethal. “Chris got to touch you? Sleep next to you? He didn’t even know what the fuck he had.” His hand smoothed down over your ass, then smacked it, hard. The slap echoed through the room.

You gasped, eyes wide, your body jolting from the impact. The sting bloomed instantly, delicious and sharp. Your hips twitched against the sheets, cunt clenching around him, needy for more. Yunho groaned. “Fuck…. say something, baby.” You whined, voice muffled against the pillow, “Do it again.”

Another smack, harder and your mouth fell open, a broken moan tearing from your throat as he rubbed the tender skin after, soothing you with one hand while the other held your hips in place.

You tried to move. Your hips shifted, just slightly, just enough to try and pull back, just enough to feel something. But Yunho didn’t let you. He gripped your waist tight, fingers digging in as he slammed back into you with one deep, brutal thrust, all of him, buried to the hilt. You gasped, your mouth dropping open, arms trembling from the force of it.

He didn’t move. He just stayed there. Deep. Heavy. Pressed inside you like he lived there. You whined, grinding down, chasing friction, chasing anything, but Yunho’s hands locked you in place. “Ah ah,” he said, voice low, gravel rough. “You don’t move unless I say.” Your walls clenched around him out of instinct, and the groan that tore from his throat sounded almost pained.

“Fuck… that’s it.” He leaned down, his chest flush with your back, mouth grazing the shell of your ear. “Clench, baby. Come on…” You whimpered, biting your lip, your body twitching under his command. “Clench for me so tight I don’t ever wanna leave. So tight I forget my own name and all I know is you.”

He rolled his hips the tiniest bit, not thrusting, not yet, but pressing even deeper somehow, like he wanted to ruin every inch of you from the inside out. “I’ll fill you up so good, baby. So deep you’ll be tasting me for days. So full you’ll forget you ever fucking dated that asshole.”

You moaned, wrecked and breathless, and Yunho growled against your neck. “Don’t you dare run from me now. Not when you finally let me in. Not when you feel this fucking good.” Your whole body was trembling, your nails clawing into the sheets, your walls fluttering around his dick. And he still didn’t move. “Now be a good girl,” he said darkly, lips brushing your cheek, “and beg me to make you forget him.”

You were shaking. Writhing. Your breath hitched in your throat as your walls kept clenching, fluttering around him in desperate waves, but Yunho still didn’t move. Still buried deep. Still holding you there, stretched and aching and starving for more. “Yunho…” It came out broken, your voice cracking like you’d been sobbing for hours. And maybe you had. Maybe your body was crying for him even if your eyes hadn’t caught up yet.

“I know, baby…” he whispered behind you, brushing his mouth over your shoulder blade. “I know it’s too much… but it’s not enough yet, is it?” You whined, almost sobbing now, a choked noise bubbling up from your throat as your hips twitched again.

You were so full you could barely think, but it wasn’t enough. It wasn’t fast or hard or filthy enough to match the hurricane inside your head. “Please,” you whispered. That one word, cracked and breathless, did something to him. Yunho exhaled hard through his nose… and then his hand slid between your thighs.

Two fingers, rough, a little shaky, found your clit and rubbed slow. “Fuck,” you gasped, forehead hitting the bed as your back arched involuntarily. He rubbed circles, lazy ones at first, then faster, and every time you clenched around him, he grunted like he was hanging on by a thread. “That’s it… good girl,” he growled, pressing harder against your clit, voice thick. “That’s what I wanted. Cry for it.”

Your thighs trembled, your fingers clawing the sheets as your whole body locked up, heat exploding outward in a wave of unbearable release. You came clenching him so tightly he groaned through gritted teeth, and that’s when he snapped. His hand left your clit. And he started moving. No build up. No teasing. No warning. Just brutal, deep, punishing thrusts that knocked the air right out of your lungs.

Your cries turned into shattered gasps, little screams, each one punched from your chest with every thick, devastating snap of his hips. Your whole body jolted with every movement, slick, hot, soaked from your orgasm and already building again. You couldn’t speak. Couldn’t breathe.

All you could do was take it. Take all of him as his hand tangled in your hair, fist tightening as he yanked you up against his chest, your back arching with a gasp. “Don’t fucking run from it,” he growled into your ear, breath hot and ragged as he thrust into you, hard, fast, punishing. “Take it.”

And you did, God, you tried. your cries bouncing off the walls as his hips slapped into the backs of your thighs, each thrust deeper than the last. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only feel, the stretch of him inside you relentless, addictive, cruel in the best way.

“You feel that?” he groaned, lips brushing your jaw as he fucked you through it. “Feel how fucking tight you get when I’m this deep, when you know you’re mine?” You were crying again. From the pressure, the pleasure, the way your body was unraveling, falling apart in his grip. You clenched around him, your core fluttering uncontrollably as your orgasm ripped through you, violent and perfect, shaking your entire body.

And then, just as you were crashing, he pulled out. You barely had time to whimper before he shoved you forward, your face pressed to the mattress, ass in the air, thighs trembling. You could feel his cum dripping out of you, your body still twitching, still clenching as he groaned behind you. “Fucking look at you,” Yunho muttered, voice rough with wrecked arousal. “Still milking me. Still not satisfied.”

Before you could catch your breath, his hands gripped your ass and spread you open and his tongue dove back in. You screamed. It was filthy, the slick sound of him eating you out from behind, tongue thrusting into your overstimulated hole like he hadn’t just fucked you into oblivion. His moans were obscene, vibrating into you, his grip bruising on your thighs as he kept you open for him, devouring you like a man starved.

And you were gone, sobbing his name, grinding back on his face, hands fisting the sheets as your entire body convulsed. You didn’t know if you were going to survive this. And maybe you didn’t want to.

Yunho pulled back from between your legs, your body limp, spent, and shaking. But he wasn’t done with you. Not even close. His hands slid beneath your thighs, lifting you as you whimpered, already sensitive, as he flipped you onto your back, the room spinning for a heartbeat before you landed against the sheets.

He kissed you. Not your lips, not yet. No, he started at your ankle, trailing slow, reverent kisses up your calf, the inside of your knee, the dip of your thigh. His lips were soft, warm, careful… worshipping. Like he was tracing a map he already knew by heart. By the time he reached your breast, your chest was rising fast again, your breath catching as his mouth closed around your nipple, tongue flicking, sucking, his hand massaging the other.

You moaned, head thrown back, hips rising, needing him again. And when you wrapped your legs around his waist, he didn’t tease. He let you pull him back in with a low groan and a look in his eyes like he’d die for this as he sank back inside you. Slowly. Stretching you all over again, dragging a broken cry from your throat as your nails clawed at his arms. You were too sensitive, too full, and yet it felt so right, like your body would never forget the shape of him again.

He took your hands, intertwining your fingers with his, and pressed them into the mattress above your head, his forehead resting against yours. His thrusts were deep, slow, almost unbearable in how intimate they were. “Mine,” he whispered between shallow breaths, his voice trembling with emotion. “You’re mine.” You nodded, eyes glassy, heart pounding. “And I’m yours,” he added. “If you’ll have me, baby… I’m already yours.”

That broke something inside you. Your body locked around him, a desperate whimper escaping your lips as you clenched tight, your final orgasm crashing over you like a wave, sharp and emotional, shaking you to your very soul. “Yunho…” you gasped, voice catching on his name like it meant everything.

He groaned, hips stilling as he buried himself to the hilt, holding your hands tighter as he came, deep inside you, his body trembling as he filled you, staying right there, his weight settling on you as your legs stayed locked around his waist, your fingers still tangled with his.

No thrusts. No words.

Just his heartbeat against yours.

And the soft sound of rain against the window.

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It was Sunday. The kind of lazy, hazy Sunday that bled into afternoon without either of you noticing. You’d barely left the bed all weekend, except for food, water, and the handful of times Yunho had carried you to the shower only to ruin you against the wall instead of actually letting you get clean.

And right now was no exception. Your palms slammed against the tile as Yunho’s hips snapped into yours from behind, water cascading down both your bodies, steam curling around you like it couldn’t even escape the heat between you.

“Fuck, Yunho…” you choked out, head pressed to the slick wall, your body bouncing with every thrust. He was relentless. One arm around your waist, the other braced against the wall, his mouth dragging filthy praise across your shoulder blade between gasps.

“You’re still so fucking tight,” he growled. “I could fuck you all day…”

“You have been,” you whimpered, and he only laughed, deep and cocky, before shoving in even deeper until you were crying out, legs shaking, the world going white as you clenched and came around him.

He followed seconds later, groaning against your skin, burying himself to the hilt, his fingers bruising on your hips as he stilled. You stayed like that for a second, both panting, dripping wet, blissed out and exhausted.

Then, you shoved at his hip with a breathless, “Get out. I actually need to shower this time.” Yunho chuckled, pulling out and slapping your ass on his way out of the steam. “Yes, ma’am.”

He grabbed a towel, lazily wrapping it low around his hips, water still running down his chest as he padded barefoot into your apartment. Hair wet and messy, smile half lazy, he walked straight to the coffee table, grabbing his pack of cigarettes. He was heading for your balcony when…

Knock. Knock. Knock.

Firmer than it needed to be. Angry. Yunho’s hand was already inside the pack, pulling out a cigarette as he walked to the door. No rush. No panic. Just calm, dominant confidence as he lit the end with a flick of the lighter, that first inhale curling out of his mouth as he swung the door open.

And there he was.

Chris.

Standing in the hallway, red faced, chest heaving, the kind of man who clearly hadn’t been fucked or loved properly in years. Yunho tilted his head, a slow grin spreading across his face as he exhaled smoke through his nose straight past him. Didn’t even flinch.

Chris sneered, his voice low and bitter. “You fucking my girlfriend now?”

Yunho’s grin widened, tongue flicking across his teeth as he leaned against the doorframe, towel low, cigarette smoldering between his fingers. “No,” he said smoothly, eyes sharp and unbothered.

“My girlfriend now.”

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[yungistiny]

BLONDIE

[ J. Yunho ]

╚═════════

summary: in which your roommate dyes his hair blonde and it’s your greatest weakness

warning: possessive yunho, unprotected sex, squirting, oral, multiple orgasms, masturbation, hair pulling, creampie

genre: smut

pairing: basketball player yunho x afab reader

word count: 8.3k

masterlist

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Yunho blamed Yeosang.

Not out loud, obviously. Yeosang would never let him live it down if he knew the chain reaction he’d caused from one stupid conversation at the kitchen counter. But still…. this was absolutely his fault.

Yunho stared at himself in the dark reflection of the microwave while the bleach processed in his hair for the second round, looking vaguely like a raccoon that had developed anxiety and access to student loans. The tiny salon smelled aggressively like chemicals, the fluorescent lights too bright for someone running on four hours of sleep and terrible decisions.

“What made you wanna go blond?” the stylist asked and because Yunho valued his dignity at least a little, he didn’t answer, “Because my roommate said blondes ruin her life and unfortunately I’d let her ruin mine on command.” Instead he’d shrugged and said, “Wanted a change.”

Which was technically true. Because before this, Yunho had at least been pretending he had his feelings under control. That illusion died three nights ago. It had been late. Almost one in the morning. You and Yeosang had come back from closing the campus café together smelling like coffee beans and sugar syrup, both of you exhausted and slap happy in that way people only got after working customer service too long. Yunho had been half asleep already, stretched across his bed with one airpod still in when he heard your laughter echo from the kitchen. Normally he tuned it out. He’d learned how to live around you a long time ago.

How to ignore the way your voice carried through walls. How not to think too hard when you wore his hoodies around the apartment and he wanted to hurt himself inside you with just said hoodie on. How not to stare when you sat cross legged on the couch beside him with wet hair after showers smelling like vanilla and coffee. He’d gotten good at surviving you. Mostly.

But that night he got up for water. And then he heard Yeosang say, “So your thing is just emotionally unavailable tall guys?” Your laugh came immediately after. “No, my thing is blondes unfortunately.” Yunho paused in the hallway going completely still. “I’m serious,” you continued. “Blondes are actually my weakness. It’s embarrassing.” And that was it. That was the moment his brain apparently vacated his body permanently.

Because the next morning he woke up thinking about it. Then he thought about it during class. Then during basketball practice. Then while brushing his teeth. Then at three in the morning while sitting cross legged on his bed researching hair bleach like he was preparing a dissertation.

Can dark hair go platinum in one session?

Will bleaching destroy natural waves?

Best blond shades for warm undertones.

The worst part? He knew it was pathetic. You’d all been friends since freshman year. Back when the three of you were living in tiny dorms with broken AC and surviving off instant ramen and campus vending machines. Back before Yunho had learned every version of your laugh by memory. Before he’d memorized your coffee order. Before the two of you ended up splitting rent on a shitty off campus apartment at the end of sophomore year because housing prices near campus were criminal.

Two years. Two years of shared grocery trips. Shared laundry. Shared late night study sessions. Shared space. Two years of wanting you so badly sometimes it physically hurt to look at you too long. And somehow you still had no idea. Or maybe you did. Yunho honestly couldn’t tell anymore. Sometimes he thought you had to know. Especially when your eyes lingered on him too long or when you’d fall asleep against his shoulder during movie nights without thinking twice about it.

Other times you treated him so casually he felt insane for even hoping. So yes. Maybe bleaching his hair because of one overheard conversation was humiliating. But Yunho had reached a point where he’d do a lot worse if it meant seeing you look at him differently for even half a second.

“Alright,” the stylist said finally, returning to his chair. “Ready to see it?” No. Absolutely not. But Yunho nodded anyway.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

By the time you finally made it home, your entire body felt held together by caffeine and spite. Your café visor was shoved into your tote bag, your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, technically it was Yunho’s hoodie, as you unlocked the apartment door with a tired sigh. The hallway outside still smelled faintly like somebody’s burned microwave dinner, and all you wanted was a shower and unconsciousness.

The apartment lights were dim except for the living room glow. A video game soundtrack echoed softly through the space, one you recognized from how many times Yunho plays it. Mortal Kombat. “You alive in here?” you called, kicking the door shut behind you. “Barely,” Yunho answered from the couch.

You smiled automatically at the sound of his voice. “Good. I brought your favorite croissants before they tossed the leftovers.”

“Chocolate ones?”

“Obviously.” You stepped into the living room, already pulling the paper bag from your tote. “Yeosang tried to steal one and I told him I’d…” The rest of the sentence died instantly and your footsteps stopped as Yunho looked up from the couch. Blonde. Your brain fully disconnected from your body for a solid three seconds. He was sprawled lazily across the couch in grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, one arm hooked behind his head while the PS5 controller rested loosely in his other hand. The TV painted shifting colors across him, catching against pale blonde hair that fell messily over his forehead like he’d been running his hands through it for hours.

Your mouth opened. Closed and then opened again. “What did you do to your hair?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Dyed it.” Like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t just casually altered your brain chemistry. You stepped closer without meaning to, still staring at him. “Why are you blonde?”

Yunho shrugged, eyes flicking back toward the tv too casually. Way too casually. “Wanted a change.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Since when?”

“Since today?”

You made a disbelieving noise under your breath, still frozen in the middle of the living room while your heartbeat started doing deeply embarrassing things. Because Yunho had always been attractive. That was the problem. You’d spent years trying very hard not to think about it too much. But this? This felt targeted. Like a personal attack he had no idea he was doing. His hair looked soft enough to touch. The blond made his eyes look darker somehow. Sharper.

And the worst part was how relaxed he looked about it, stretched across the couch like he had no idea he’d just walked straight out of every bad decision you’d ever made. Yunho glanced back at you again finally, slower this time because you were still staring. Not subtly either. Your fingers tightened around the paper bag slightly as your eyes dragged over his hair again before you could stop yourself and a tiny flicker of satisfaction crossed his face so fast you almost missed it. “You hate it?” he asked.

You laughed once in disbelief. “Hate it?” you repeated. “Yunho, you look insane.” His eyebrow lifted. “Insane bad or insane good?” The apartment suddenly felt very warm. Very small. You swallowed once and completely betrayed yourself as you mumbled. “Unfortunately insane good.” You tore your eyes away from him with actual effort and shoved the paper bag toward him before you could continue staring like a Victorian man witnessing an exposed ankle.

“Here,” you muttered. “Your croissants before I decide you don’t deserve them anymore.” Yunho snorted softly, setting the controller down on his stomach so he could take the bag from you. Your fingers brushed for barely a second, just enough to make your stomach flip.

“You’re so generous,” he said dryly.

“I know.”

You dropped onto the opposite end of the couch quickly, mostly because standing near him suddenly felt medically unsafe. The cushions dipped under your weight while Yunho pulled one of the croissants from the bag immediately, peeling the paper back. You watched him take a bite. Unfortunately that was somehow attractive too. This was a nightmare. You exhaled through your nose, trying very hard to regain control of yourself before saying something humiliating. “Your postseason championship tomorrow,” you said, tucking your legs beneath you. “You ready?”

Yunho’s expression shifted slightly then, the teasing easing into something softer. Their intramural basketball team had somehow made it all the way to finals. Which normally wouldn’t have mattered much except Yunho was annoyingly good at basically everything. Half the campus showed up to games just to watch him play. “Mm,” he hummed around another bite of croissant. “Kinda nervous.”

You blinked, shocked. “You? Nervous?”

“A little.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Coach has been acting like this is the NBA finals all week.”

You smiled despite yourself. “That’s because you’re carrying the entire team.”

“That is actually true.”

“There he is.” You pointed at him. “Arrogant again.”

Yunho grinned and, God, the blonde hair made his smile worse somehow. Brighter. You hated this. “You’re coming though, right?” he asked and you softened immediately. “Of course I am. I even switched shifts for it,” you added. “Yeosang’s covering close tomorrow.”

Yunho stared at you for a second too long. Something warm flickered behind his eyes. Then he looked away first, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Cool,” he said quietly. And suddenly the apartment didn’t feel casual anymore. Not with his blonde hair glowing gold under the tv light.

Not with the way he kept glancing at you between bites of croissant.

Not with the heavy feeling sitting low in your stomach every time he smiled.

You were in so much trouble.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The next afternoon was somehow worse. You’d spent the entire morning telling yourself you were being ridiculous. It was hair. Just fucking hair. People dyed their hair every day. Millions of people probably woke up blonde every morning and somehow society continued functioning. So why had you spent half your shift replaying the image of Yunho sprawled across the couch in your head?

Why had you almost poured whole milk into an iced americano because you’d gotten distracted thinking about it? Why had you caught yourself staring into space while wondering if it was as soft as it looked? You were losing your mind.

By the time your shift ended, you practically threw your apron into your locker and headed for the employee bathroom. The game started in less than an hour. You’d been going to Yunho’s games ever since freshman year when he’d somehow convinced you to attend one “just this once.” That had turned into every home game. Which had turned into wearing his jersey number. Which had turned into you owning a black and red fitted shirt with a giant white 08 on the back.

You absolutely refused to examine how that happened. The shirt was already folded in your bag. You changed quickly, pulling it over your head and fixing your hair in the mirror. The familiar number stretched across your back with JEONG right above it. A small smile tugged at your lips before you jumped as a knock sounded on the doorframe.

Yeosang stood there holding a box of pastries, immediately narrowing his eyes. “Why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

You grabbed your bag. “I’m leaving. Have fun closing.” Yeosang stepped directly into your path. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Unfortunately, after years of friendship, he had developed an almost supernatural ability to tell when something was bothering you. Or when you were lying. The café had mostly emptied out now, most like you, were heading to the game. You finally signed, groaning. “It’s Yunho.”

“See? I knew it.”

“You always know it.”

“What’s he done now?”

You hesitated. Because somehow saying it out loud felt embarrassing. Extremely embarrassing. Yeosang waited patiently. Then impatiently. Then dramatically until you blurted it out.

“He dyed his hair.”

Yeosang blinked. “What?”

“He dyed his hair.”

“And?”

“He dyed it blonde.”

Yeosang laughed. A little too loudly. “Oh my god! Are you serious?”

You groaned. Then immediately regretted opening your mouth at all. Because once you started talking, everything spilled out. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Yeosang barked out another laugh. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

“Shut up.”

“You are.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I know.”

Yeosang looked delighted as you looked miserable. “Every time I close my eyes,” you complained, “I just keep thinking about running my fingers through it and pulling on it while he…”

Yeosang immediately held up both hands. “Nope. Don’t need your nsfw details.”

You laughed despite yourself. “I wasn’t even going to say anything.”

“That sentence was headed somewhere awful.” Yeosang jokingly physically shuddered. “Please save that conversation for literally anyone else.” You laughed harder now, the tension easing slightly from your shoulders as Yeosang pointed toward the door. “Go.” He grabbed a towel and started wiping down a nearby counter. “Go watch your blonde basketball player.”

You rolled your eyes and headed backwards toward the exit. “He’s not my basketball player.”

Yeosang’s laugh followed you all the way out the door. “Sure he isn’t.”

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The gym was already packed by the time you arrived. Not professional sports packed. Not thousands of people screaming packed. College packed. Students crammed into bleachers. Friends holding homemade signs. The marching band warming up in one corner. The scent of popcorn and sweat and polished hardwood filling the air. The noise hit you immediately and you loved it.

You slipped through the crowd, making your way toward your usual section. A few people recognized the shirt you were wearing and smiled knowingly. Yunho’s number. As usual but you ignored the looks. At this point half the athletic department had apparently decided you and Yunho were dating years ago. The fact that neither of you had corrected them probably wasn’t helping.

The teams were already on the court warming up. And then you saw him and your feet almost stopped moving. God. That wasn’t fair. The basketball uniform had always looked good on him. That wasn’t new. The black and red jersey stretched across broad shoulders you’ve spent years pretending not to notice. His shorts hung low on his hips. His long legs seemed to take up half the court whenever he moved. Normally that was already enough to make maintaining a friendship feel like an Olympic sport. Now add the blonde hair and you were finished. Absolutely finished.

The bright gym lights caught the bleached strands every time he moved. Against the uniform it stood out immediately, making him impossible to miss even among dozens of players. Several girls nearby were staring and you immediately hated them. Then realized you were doing the exact same thing. Which somehow made it worse.

A whistle blew and warmups ended and the game began. You tried, you really did, to focus on the actual basketball. For maybe five minutes. Then Yunho stole the ball and the crowd erupted. You found yourself leaning forward automatically as he moved with an ease that always fascinated you. Confident. Fast. Certain. The version of Yunho most people knew was relaxed. Sweet and easygoing. Basketball was different. There was a sharpness to him here. A confidence. An intensity. Every movement looked deliberate. Every play looked effortless. And apparently blonde hair made all of it ten times more distracting.

Halfway through the first half he scored again and the crowd exploded all over again as Yunho jogged backward down the court breathing hard. Sweat glistening along his neck. You immediately looked away. Then immediately looked back. Which was a mistake. Because once again your brain had decided to imagine what that hair would feel like beneath your fingers. Pulling….. gripping…..

You shifted in your seat, clenching your thighs together and knew if this was one of those omegaverse stories Yeosang likes to read, the whole gym would smell how turned on you were right now. By halftime you had learned three things: One, Your roommate was going to win this game. Two, The blonde hair somehow looked even better than it had last night. And three….. You desperately needed to get your act together before he noticed the way you kept staring or wet you are as he glanced up and smiled at you.

Yunho had always been good at pretending. That was probably the only reason he’d survived the last few years. Because if he hadn’t learned how to hide things, you would’ve figured him out sometime during freshman year. Back before there was an apartment. Before shared rent. Before he realized he was completely screwed. The game should have had his full attention. It was the championship. The biggest game of the season. The final game of his college career.

And yet every few minutes his eyes drifted toward the bleachers anyway. Toward you. They always did. The first time he’d looked over after warmups, he’d almost forgotten what play they were running. Because there you were as always wearing his name and number. And Yunho hated how much he liked it. Actually, hate wasn’t the right word. The truth was much worse. He loved it. Loved it in a way he would absolutely never admit out loud.

Because the second he started examining why seeing you wear his number made him feel the way it did, he’d have to confront some very uncomfortable truths about himself. Like the fact he was possessive. Not in an unhealthy way. Not in a controlling way. Just… Yours. His brain immediately corrected. No. Not yours. You weren’t his. He knew that. But every time he saw another guy talking to you for too long, something ugly twisted in his chest.

Every time someone flirted with you at parties. Every time some idiot from one of your classes made you laugh. Yunho had to sit there pretending he was perfectly normal about it. So yes. Watching you wear his name and number did something to him……

Yunho snapped back into the play when the whistle blew again. He intercepted a pass, pushed the ball down court, and scored. His teammates slapped his shoulders as they ran back and the crowd cheered but he barely heard them. Because his eyes were already looking toward the stands again and you were watching him. A smile pulling at your mouth and his chest tightened immediately. God. He was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. He immediately turned away. Then looked back three seconds later because apparently he had no self control anymore.

He kept glancing at you for the rest of the half. Through every possession. Every timeout. Every basket. Until finally midway through the second half he ended up at the free throw line and the gym quieted as Yunho bounced the ball once. Twice. Then glanced toward the stands out of habit again and immediately regretted it. Because you were looking right at him. Your chin resting against your hand. Looking at him like he was the only thing in the entire gym worth paying attention to. The shot nearly rimmed out but Yunho caught himself at the last second and the ball dropped through the net.

You weren’t even pretending to watch anyone else anymore. The scoreboard overhead glowed brightly against the gym lights, the numbers changing every few possessions. The opposing team was better than expected. Every time Yunho’s team started pulling away, they clawed their way back. The tension in the building kept rising. Students stood. The bench stood. Even the coaches looked stressed. And through all of it, Yunho somehow looked completely composed.

His blonde hair was darker now with sweat, the strands sticking slightly to his forehead as he moved across the court. The jersey clung to his back. His breathing had become heavier over the course of the game, but he never seemed to slow down. You’d watched him play dozens of times. Maybe a hundred. But tonight felt different. Everything felt different. Every glance toward him and him towards you lingered a little longer than it should. Every smile he gave a teammate made your stomach flutter. Every time he pushed his hair back from his face, your brain short circuited.

The scoreboard buzzed. Two minutes remaining. The game was tied and the entire gym seemed to collectively hold its breath. You shifted forward on the bleachers, elbows on your knees now. Nobody around you was sitting anymore. The student section was practically vibrating as the opposing team scored and groans erupted. Then thirty seconds later Yunho answered with a three pointer that nearly blew the roof off the place and you found yourself shouting before you even realized it but the sound was swallowed by hundreds of other voices.

Yunho pointed toward a teammate as they ran back down the court. One minute left. Then forty seconds. Then thirty. The score stayed tied and every possession felt life or death. You could see the exhaustion on every player now. The way they bent slightly when the play stopped. The sweat soaking through uniforms. The desperation. Twenty seconds. The opposing team missed. The rebound bounced loose and one of Yunho’s teammates grabbed it. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. You stood fully now, heart pounding as the gym felt deafening.

Yunho sprinted across half court and the ball found him immediately. Everyone in the building knew who was taking the final shot. Even the other team. Two defenders closed on him instantly. Five seconds. Four. The noise became unbearable. Three. Yunho stepped back, just enough space to aim as time seemed to slow. You saw the ball leave his hands. Saw the arc. Saw the blonde hair falling into his eyes as he watched it fly and the entire gym froze……

For a split second there was silence. Pure silence. Then absolute chaos. The buzzer sounded. The scoreboard flashed. His team had won and the gym exploded. Boomed. Students screamed. The bench stormed the court as teammates tackled each other. People jumped onto the hardwood from the stands and the sound hit like a wave. And through all the madness, all the celebration, all the movement… Your eyes found Yunho immediately. He was laughing. Head thrown back. Arms spread as his teammates nearly knocked him over as they swarmed him.

For a moment he disappeared entirely beneath the crowd before he emerged again. Breathing hard and grinning. Flushed from exertion and adrenaline. You got up and made your way down the bleachers and onto the court and for a split second, you considered leaving.

The idea hit you the moment you reached the court through the chaos of celebration. Students were spilling onto the hardwood. Teammates were hugging each other. Coaches were getting drenched in water bottles. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once. Then you saw her. Standing beside Yunho. Red hair. Pretty. One of the cheerleaders. And not just any cheerleader. You knew exactly who she was. Brandy. Unfortunately. Because sophomore year, long before you’d let yourself admit your feelings for Yunho, he’d gotten drunk at a Halloween party and disappeared upstairs with her.

You’d spent the rest of that night pretending it hadn’t bothered you. Just like you’d spent the next years pretending a lot of things. Now she was standing entirely too close to him. Laughing. Touching his arm. Looking up at him with the kind of smile that made your stomach immediately sink. The championship high vanished from your system so fast it was almost impressive. You stopped walking. The noise of the gym suddenly felt distant. Stupid. This was stupid.

Yunho wasn’t your boyfriend. He could talk to whoever he wanted. He could fuck whoever he wanted. He’d done exactly that for years. And yet all you could think about was the way she’d reached up a second ago and touched his shoulder while laughing and how you wanted to break her hand for doing it.

Your jaw tightened and before you could stop yourself, you turned. You’d just leave. Nobody would notice. The team would celebrate. Yunho would celebrate. You’d text him congratulations later. Simple. Except apparently the universe had decided you weren’t getting away that easily. Because before you’d taken more than three steps, you heard your name and you froze.

“Y/N!”

You looked back as Yunho was already jogging toward you leaving the conversation with Brandy entirely.She looked confused as he disappeared and your heart did something deeply embarrassing as Yunho reached you a moment later, slightly out of breath from both the game and weaving through the crowd. The smile on his face hadn’t disappeared since the winning shot. “Where are you going?”

You shoved your hands into your pockets. “Nowhere.” His eyes narrowed immediately. The same way they always did when he knew you were lying. “Uh huh.” You shrugged. “You were leaving.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally turned around.”

“I changed directions.”

Yunho stared at you and you stared back. Then, to your horror, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Like he knew exactly what had happened. Like he was enjoying it as you kept glancing at his sweat damp hair. “I’m gonna go shower real quick,” he said. “We’re all going to Murphys to celebrate.” The little sports bar was only a few blocks from your apartment. Close enough that most students walked there. You nodded. Trying very hard to act normal. “Okay.”

His smile widened slightly. “Then we can go together.” The words landed harder than they should have. Because he could’ve gone with teammates. Or literally anyone else. Instead he’d said we. Like it was obvious. Like of course he was going with you and a warmth spread through your chest despite your best efforts. “You sure?” you asked and the question came out before you could stop it and something flickered across Yunho’s face. Confusion. Then amusement. Then something softer. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. Because you couldn’t exactly say because Brandy looked like she wanted to climb him like a tree. So instead you shrugged. “Just asking.” Yunho watched you for a second. A long second. The kind that felt dangerous. Then one of his teammates shouted his name from across the court and the moment broke. “Give me twenty minutes,” Yunho said, backing away. “Don’t disappear.”

Your stomach flipped as the grin he gave you was quick. Easy. Familiar. Then he turned and headed toward the locker rooms as you kept standing there watching him go. Watching the blonde hair. Watching the way students stopped him every few feet to congratulate him. Watching three separate girls try to get his attention in the span of thirty seconds.

And for the first time all night, a realization settled heavily in your chest. The jealousy wasn’t getting better. If anything, it was getting worse.

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Murphys was exactly what every college sports bar eventually became on a championship night. Packed and overly loud. Impossible to move through without bumping into somebody. The moment you and Yunho stepped through the front doors, a roar erupted from somewhere near the back where most of the team had already claimed several tables. Someone immediately started chanting his name. Another teammate nearly spilled a beer trying to get his attention. You couldn’t help smiling. This was his night. The culmination of four years of practices, games, injuries, early mornings, and everything in between. And somehow, despite all the attention immediately being directed at him, Yunho still glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were following.

The small gesture shouldn’t have affected you but it did unfortunately. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, the blonde strands softer than before and pushed loosely back from his forehead. A few pieces had already fallen forward again, framing his face in a way that should probably be illegal. He’d traded the basketball uniform for black jeans and a dark grey henley that fit entirely too well across his shoulders. You hated how aware you were of every detail and the way half the women in the bar immediately noticed him.

“Over here!” one of his teammates yelled. The team occupied nearly an entire section of the bar now, pitchers and baskets of food already covering the tables. The second Yunho approached, someone shoved a shot glass into his hand. Then another. Then another. And another. “Champions drink free tonight!” someone shouted. The chanting started almost immediately and Yunho rolled his eyes then knocked back the first shot anyway.

You found yourself laughing despite everything. For a little while, it was easy. The energy was infectious. Everyone was celebrating. The game replayed on televisions mounted around the bar and every few minutes somebody brought up the final shot again. Every single retelling somehow made Yunho look more embarrassed.

You were watching him grin through another round of congratulations when your stomach suddenly dropped. Her. Brandy. She’d arrived sometime in the last ten minutes. You hadn’t noticed until now. Until she stood near the opposite side of the table talking to a few people from the athletic department and entirely too interested in Yunho. You tried ignoring it. Really. You focused on your drink. Focused on conversations around you. Focused on literally anything else. Then you looked up again and she was moving closer.

Your jaw tightened as she stopped right beside Yunho who didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did. You couldn’t tell as someone handed him another shot and he accepted it with a laugh as Brandy laughed too. At something that wasn’t even funny. Your grip tightened around your glass as she kept finding reasons to move closer, reaching out and touching Yunho’s arm while saying something. The movement lasted barely a second but it still made something unpleasant twist in your chest.

You immediately looked away and moved towards the bar having no idea Yunho was trying. He really was. He’d spent the last ten minutes being cornered by teammates, congratulated by professors he barely knew, handed enough shots to tranquilize a horse, and somehow Brandy had attached herself to his side like a particularly persistent barnacle. Ordinarily, he would’ve felt a little bad. Brandy was nice enough. Kind of. Not really.

They’d hooked up exactly once nearly two years ago after a Halloween party, discovered they had absolutely no chemistry beyond mutual attraction, and never did it again. Since then they’d been friendly. Casual. At least, Yunho thought they’d been casual. Apparently Brandy had different ideas. Because she kept laughing at things that weren’t funny. Kept touching his arm. Kept finding excuses to lean closer. And Yunho kept trying to politely create space without making a scene.

His attention wasn’t even on her. It hadn’t been all night. The problem was that his attention was currently locked on the opposite side of the bar. Specifically on you. And the guy sitting beside you. Sean. Of course it was Sean. Yunho knew Sean. Everybody knew Sean. Another player. Not on the basketball team, but one of the soccer guys. Tall. Built. Annoyingly good looking. And blonde. Naturally blond and that realization hit Yunho like a personal attack.

Of course. Of fucking course. The universe apparently had jokes tonight. Because there you were, sitting at the bar with Sean occupying the stool beside you. Laughing and smiling. Looking comfortable. And all Yunho could think about was that stupid conversation he’d overheard about blondes being your weakness.

His jaw tightened as Sean leaned closer to hear something you said over the music and you laughed and Yunho immediately hated him. Not rationally. Not fairly. Just instantly. “You even listening to me?” Brandy’s voice snapped him back for half a second. “What?”

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said.”

And he still wasn’t as a fresh wave of irritation rolled through Yunho. Which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. You weren’t his girlfriend. You could talk to whoever you wanted. You could date whoever you wanted. Fuck whoever you wanted. The same rules he’d been reminding himself of for years. The problem was they weren’t working anymore.

Yunho immediately looked again. And hated that he looked again. Because the second he saw your smile directed at someone else, that ugly feeling in his chest returned. Stronger this time. Possessive. Frustrated. Dangerously close to becoming something he couldn’t keep hidden much longer. And judging by the way Sean had started leaning even closer, Yunho was rapidly running out of patience.

Sean was halfway through telling some story about getting thrown out of an intramural soccer game when Yunho finally reached his limit. “Fuck it.” Before he could talk himself out of it, Yunho started walking towards you and the moment you felt his presence, you turned. And immediately forgot how to function.

Yunho had one hand braced against the bar behind your stool. The other settled on the counter beside your drink. In one smooth movement he’d essentially wedged himself into the tiny space behind you. Not touching. Technically. But close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough that his shirt brushed the back of your shoulder when he shifted. Close enough that the familiar scent of him immediately invaded your senses and your brain completely short circuited.

Sean looked up and grinned immediately. “Jeong!” Yunho nodded once and to Sean’s credit, he didn’t seem remotely threatened. Or aware. “Hell of a game,” Sean continued. “That shot was ridiculous.”

“Thanks.”

“You saved your whole team.”

“Someone had to.”

Sean laughed and Yunho smiled politely. Meanwhile you sat frozen between them. Because while Sean was carrying on a perfectly normal conversation, Yunho remained exactly where he was. Behind you. Practically looming as his arm still rested along the bar behind your stool. You grabbed your drink then immediately regretted it because your hand was shaking slightly. Wonderful.

“You guys still living together after graduation?” The question landed like a grenade. Sean looked genuinely curious when you looked startled and Yunho looked calm. “Yeah,” Yunho answered before you could and your eyes immediately flicked toward him as Sean nodded. “Nice. Makes life easier.”

“It does.” The answer came instantly. Like Yunho hadn’t even needed to think about it and something warm stirred in your chest as Sean smiled. “Honestly, I don’t know how you two do it. I’d kill most of my roommates after two years.”

This time you laughed. “So would I.”

Yunho looked down at you immediately. “You wound me.”

“You leave dishes in the sink.”

“They soak.”

“They rot.”

“They marinate.”

Sean barked out a laugh and you laughed too as Yunho smiled. And for a brief second the jealousy disappeared entirely. Because this felt familiar. Comfortable. The two of you slipping into the easy rhythm you’d built over years. Then Sean smiled at you again and the jealousy came roaring right back. Yunho’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as his eyes lingered on Sean for a moment longer than necessary then dropped to you.

“Oh, there he is.” You followed Sean’s gaze to see another soccer player waving him over from a crowded table near the back as Sean stood. “My roommate is going to drink himself into a medical emergency if I leave him alone any longer.”

“Probably a good idea then,” you said as Sean pointed toward Yunho. “Again, congrats on the win.”

“Thanks.”

And just like that, Sean was gone and the moment he disappeared into the crowd, the space beside you was empty for approximately half a second before Yunho sat down. Like he’d been waiting for the opportunity. The stool Sean had vacated hadn’t even stopped spinning before Yunho claimed it. You stared into your drink to hide your smile as the bar remained loud around you. Students celebrating. Glasses clinking. Music playing overhead.

But suddenly all of your attention narrowed to the person sitting beside you as Yunho leaned forward against the bar. His blonde hair had dried almost completely by now. Which somehow made it worse as you heard him mumble almost to himself. “You really do like blondes, don’t you.”

You froze. The words weren’t loud. But they were loud enough and Yunho froze too, his eyes widening slightly and for a second neither of you moved before you furrowed your brows. “What?”

Yunho stared straight ahead. The picture of regret. You could practically see him replaying the last five seconds in his head. Trying to decide if there was any possible way to pretend he hadn’t just said that.

“What did you just say?”

A faint flush crept up the back of his neck and his ears turned red and the realization hit you immediately. Yunho was embarrassed. Genuinely embarrassed. And somehow that made your pulse jump even harder.

“You told Yeosang you like blondes.” His words landed between you and your brain stopped working. For a moment you weren’t even sure you’d heard correctly. “You… heard that?”

Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

Your jaw dropped. “Yunho.”

“It was an accident.”

“You eavesdropped on us?”

“I was getting water.”

“You were eavesdropping while getting water.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You dyed your hair.” The words slipped out before you could stop them and Yunho finally looked at you. “You dyed your hair because of that?” you asked quietly and Yunho let out a short laugh. Not amused. More like someone caught red handed. “Maybe.” His jaw tightened as his fingers flexed around an empty beer bottle. For a moment he looked like he was debating whether to keep hiding. Then something in his expression shifted.

“I wanted you to look at me.” The words landed like a punch and your breath caught as Yunho laughed once. “Actually, no. That’s not true.” He shook his head. “I wanted you to want me. I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he admitted and you could have swore your heart stopped beating. “Since freshman year, probably. You remember when you got sick during finals?” You stared at him. Of course you remembered. You’d spent three days miserable in your dorm while Yunho kept showing up with soup and notes. “I remember.”

“I skipped practice for that.”

Your chest tightened. “I know.”

“You don’t.” His eyes locked onto yours. “I skipped practice because I couldn’t focus knowing you were sick.” Yunho looked away briefly before continuing. “I tried getting over it.” A small laugh escaped him again. “Didn’t work.” Your throat felt tight. “I dated other people. Didn’t work.” The noise of the bar washed around you but neither of you seemed to notice anymore. “Then we moved in together.” He smiled faintly. “Which was probably the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you as Yunho’s gaze softened. “Do you know how hard it is living with someone you want?” The air left your lungs because of you did. “You wear my hoodies.” His voice was lower now. “You fall asleep on my shoulder. You wear my name and my number.” Your eyes dropped briefly to the black shirt and when you looked back up, Yunho was already watching you. “I like when you wear it.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Yunho’s jaw flexed. Then he admitted the thing he probably never intended to. “It makes me feel like you’re mine.” The words settled heavily between you and Yunho immediately looked away. Like even after everything, that confession felt too revealing. Too possessive. Too honest. But it was already out there now. And suddenly so many things made sense. The way he’d always noticed when you wore the shirt. The way he’d smiled every time. The way he’d looked at you during games. The way he’d dyed his hair. The way he’d looked at you tonight and slowly, Yunho looked back and his expression was completely open now.

“I want you.” The words were barely above a whisper, yet somehow they hit harder than anything else he’d said. Your heart was beating so hard it hurt and for a moment neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. You simply stared at each other before you stood and the movement made Yunho blink, eyes following you immediately. Confused, hopeful and a little worried.

“You want me.” It wasn’t a question but your words made Yunho’s throat bob as he nodded like he couldn’t trust his voice anymore and the look in his eyes nearly destroyed you as a tiny smile tugged at your lips. “Then come have me.” And for a second, Yunho simply stared. Like his brain had completely stopped functioning.

Then his chair scraped against the floor so loud heads turned to stare a little as he followed you out the bar.

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The front door of your apartment barely clicked shut behind you before the tension that had been building all evening, for years, snapped like a live wire. Yunho’s hands were already on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you back against the wood paneling as his mouth found yours in a deep, hungry kiss finally. His tongue slid against yours with urgent need, tasting faintly of the drinks you’d had and the shots he downed. He pulled back just enough to breathe the words against your lips, voice low and rough. “You want me?”

You laughed softly, the sound turning into a gasp when his hips rolled forward to pin you tighter. “Obviously, blondie.” He grinned and then moved. Both of you pulled and tugged at each other’s clothes not wasting anymore time because you already waited years and both of you were impatient now. Shirts tugged over heads, pants shoved down legs, socks kicked aside, Yunho almost tripped once, until both of you stood in nothing but underwear, breathing hard as Yunho’s gaze raked over your body, pupils blown wide, before he bent and lifted you effortlessly.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you down the short hallway, mouth never leaving yours except to nip at your jaw, tongue gliding against your skin as he shouldered open the door to his bedroom and lowered you onto the edge of the bed wasting no time to start kissing his way down your throat, across your collarbones, pausing to suck lightly at the swell of each breast still covered by your bra. You reached behind yourself and unclasped it, letting the fabric fall away and Yunho’s hands immediately replaced it, palms warm as they cupped and squeezed, thumb stroking over one nipple before he leaned down to take it into his mouth. “Fuck….” You gasped as groaned against you, sucking harder, letting his teeth graze before moving to do the same thing to your other one as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your thighs, slow and deliberate.

He gave one more little nip at your nipple before sliding down and dropping to his knees between your legs, hooking one over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, working higher with open mouthed presses of his lips and your fingers threaded into his hair, gripping the bleached strands as he finally reached your center and his tongue dragged a long, flat stripe up your folds before circling your clit.

He took his time, licking and sucking with focused attention, occasionally dipping lower to push his tongue inside you in slow, deliberate little thrusts. A low groan vibrated against you when his own hand slipped into his boxers to wrap around his dick, stroking in time with the rhythm of his tongue just enough to edge himself as your hips started rocking against his face and the wet sounds of his mouth to fill the room. “Yunho…. I’m….” You could feel it, between the way he would rotate plunging his tongue insult to moving back up to suck your aching clit into to his mouth. You could feel your wetness, juices leaking against his chin, smearing, covering his face.

“FUCK!” Your orgasm slammed against you, coming with a sharp cry, thighs trembling around his head while he kept licking through every pulse and your grip tightened in his hair, eyes rolling back a little as he kept going until you couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged him upward by his hair and didn’t miss the way he moaned at his hair being pulled. “I need you inside me now.”

Yunho stood in one fluid motion, you certainly did not have to tell him twice. He shoved his boxers down, catching your ankles and pulling you toward the edge of the mattress, lifting you into his lap as he sat back on the bed, kissing you as you both could feel his tip aching against you, precum smearing at your entrance. “Look at me.” His voice was rough, raspy, as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You want this?” He held you up, giving enough space for the head of his dick to just barely slip inside you. “You want me to bury myself inside you and make you mine?”

“Please….” You hated that it sounded as if you were desperate and begging but you literally were and it was enough to make him groan as held you, sinking you down onto him in one smooth glide and both of you moaned at the stretch, at the years of wanting finally released. He held you there for a moment, forehead staying pressed to yours, letting you adjust to the deep fullness until you began to move, rising and sinking in steady bounces.

Every downward stroke seated him fully, the angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. It didn’t take long before the pressure crested again, you were to full, the knowledge of him taking you almost too much and you could feel it already, hitting you to fast. You clenched around him and felt yourself squirt, wetness spilling over his thighs and Yunho’s control fractured. “Holy shit, baby….” He laid you flat on the bed and drove into you harder, hips snapping forward while you kept coming in messy pulses around him. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your cries as your hands yanked at his hair which only fueled him to pound into you faster.

Another orgasm rolled through you, legs shaking uncontrollably, your moan formed into a cry of his name and Yunho pulled out, mouth returning to your pussy to lap at the fresh slick while you were still coming, tongue slipping inside you again as your walls clenched with aftershocks, and the moan he let out like you watching and having you come apart was the best thing to ever happen to him almost made you come again if he hadn’t pulled back and flipped you onto your stomach.

His hands gripped your hips to pull you back onto your knees, pressing you down into the mattress with one big hand between your shoulder blades, gripping his dick in his other hand, teasing his tip at your ass for a minute before moving it back down and thrusting back inside your overstimulated pussy from behind, going a little slower now, savoring the way you gripped him. “Always wanted this,” he murmured, voice thick. “Wanted you like this, taking every inch.” One hand slid around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. “Whose pussy is it?”

You tried to answer but all you could manage for a moment were whimpers, small little cries. “Yours,” you gasped, pushing back to meet him. “It’s your pussy.” The words seemed to ignite something in him. His pace quickened, hips slapping against your ass with each deep thrust as he pulled you upright against his chest, one arm banded across your waist to hold you steady while he continued pounding up into you. The new angle keeping him buried to the hilt, and the steady friction soon had you coming again, body arching back into him.

“Fuck…” Yunho reached up, hand wrapping around your throat, tilting your head back as he could feel his dick twitch. “Mine.” He groaned, thrusts frantic and gone as held you there right, coming, groaning your name as he filled you, hot pulses flooding deep inside you while his arms tightened around you, keeping you close through the aftershocks, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck as both of you caught your breath, the room quiet except for the sound of your mingled breathing.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan in the corner and the sound of your breathing slowly finding its rhythm again. The adrenaline that had carried you from the bar to the apartment was finally beginning to settle, leaving behind something warmer. Softer and real as Yunho rolled onto his back with a groan, one arm immediately reaching for you before you’d even fully settled beside him. Like it was instinct. Like after spending years wanting you, he couldn’t quite convince himself that this wasn’t some elaborate dream his brain had invented.

Then, after a moment, Yunho smiled. Dangerously teasing. The same look he always wears whenever he knows he was about to win an argument. He tilted his head slightly and chuckle escaped him. “You really do like blondes, huh?”

You laughed immediately, then reached up and pushed the hair back from his forehead, fingers lingering there and the teasing expression disappeared from Yunho’s face as he watched you. Watched the fond smile pull at your mouth.

“Mhmmm,” you hummed then you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But I like just Yunho too.”

And for a second, he simply stared before the biggest smile you’d ever seen spread across his face. And somehow, impossibly, that smile was better than the blonde hair.

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permanent tag list: @straycat420 @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @seungminniemin @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @love--in-stayville @hartsablaze @remi-young @bubbly-moon @fvxyxnh0 @herpoetryprincess @prchiquita8 @dreamgirlevilera @booposaurusrex @onecursedkitty @dvrktvnnel @atinynoona @metalheadatiny @uchihabbynic @eggielix @dodot04lover @thenumberoneangelcollection-blog @navydotz @auxiny @chanscappuccino @fixonmingi89

[iceonmyteeth]

SAN | GOLDEN HOUR : Part.5 Concept Trailer

[yunhosash]

🫰

[asesinas]

whatever this comeback gives us i just want to say thank you for blonde yunho!

[experienceandobservation]

Florence Pugh | Ibiza boho chic - 70s vibes, for Harris Reeds pool party | May 26, 2026 | 🎥 Faye Browne

[nuttybarzz]

Let me know all of you

[mingislildevil]

Big poppa 😮‍💨

[ceruleanslover]

✞༒𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐬𝐞𝐝 𝐀𝐫𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐝༒✞

Summary: Wooyoung is your dealer, you were only meant to pick up the goods but you got more than what you signed up for.

Pairing: Dom!Wooyoung x Fem!reader x Dom!San x Dom!Mingi

Warnings: Drug dealer woosanmin 18+ MDNI, smut, slowburn. porn, foursome, nasty. drug use, cheating, blowjob, menace wooyoung , many more. just proceed at your own risk lol THIS IS PURE FILTH WRITTEN DURING EASTER SUNDAY.

Word count: 7,106 k. (fuck im sorry)

A/N: not proof read but I really just wanted to get this out there. might've switched between 'her' and 'you' im too used to 3rd pov.

Song recommendation: RUNRUNRUN - Dutch Melrose

dividers by : © suupersonic

The Seoul night air was thick with humidity, clinging to your skin like a second layer as you make your way down the narrow, dimly lit alley. This was the part of the city that thrived in the shadows, a place where the neon from the main streets bled into the murky puddles and the only sounds were the distant thrum of bass from the nearby club.

You knocked on the unmarked steel door, the sound echoing slightly. It was a rhythm you knew by heart. Three short taps, a pause then one more. A moment later, the lock clicked, and the door swung open.

Wooyoung stood there, a silhouette framed by the warm, low light of his apartment. He was shirtless, wearing only a pair loose-fitting grey sweats that hung dangerously low.

His hair was damp like he just stepped out of the shower, dark strands falling into his eyes. A silver chain rested against his collar bone. and the smell of wood and trouble clinging onto his skin.

You were greeted by a stoic face before changing it into a shit eating grin.

"you're late" Wooyoung smiled, voice sweet it was sickening. You leaned one shoulder against the door frame, face contorted in annoyance. "not like you got anything important to do."

A beat passed between you two. The bass from somewhere deeper in the building pulsed faintly through the walls, slow and deliberate, like a heartbeat. He stepped aside without a word, you slipped past him.

The apartment was dim, lit by the faint LED strip under his couch. His apartment reeked of za and a mixture of something warm- vanilla, maybe. Familiar. Intimate. a mistake waiting to happen.

The door shut behind you with a soft click.

Wooyoung didn't move closer right away. Instead, he leaned back against it. His arms folded loosely across his chest as he watches you walk further inside like you owned the place. His gaze dragged over your figure, slow and almost assessing.

"Could've sworn that I just gave you a cue last week." he said quietly.

You turned with your brow lifted. "I ran out quick"

That earned the fainted twitch at the corner of his mouth.

Wooyoung pushed off the door, walking towards the dining table set in the middle of his apartment. he glanced over his shoulder as he opened the box. Inside, nestled in velvet lining, were several neat little baggies of well preserved buds. "You gotta slow down with this baby" baby.

"I'm starting to think that you just want to see me" He turned around, leaning against the table after he retrieved her usual order. Your face contorted again in annoyance, choosing to not entertain his little games.

"But you know" He began, instead of handing the bag to her. His tone shifted slightly. "You're my best customer, always making sure I'm fed, never any trouble. And I believe in rewarding loyalty."

He set her usual baggie aside and reached deeper into the box, pulling out a smaller, unmarked one filled with tightly packed, dark green buds dusted with crystalline sheen.

"New arrival" He said, holding it up. " 'Starlight' is stronger than what you usually get. Smooth as fuck though, with a little kick to it. I want you to try it. On the house"

You raised a brow in surprise. "Free? Are you feeling generous tonight Woo?"

A small hum escapes from his lips. "Always, when it comes to you" He replied, his smirk returning. "But you gotta try it with me, right now"

Before you could say anything, he was already moving to grab his rolling tray, papers and a grinder. Your heart fluttered in your chest, a mix of excitement and nervousness. You've been alone with him countless times, but for some reason. This felt different.

Wooyoung worked with a focused precision, his long fingers skillfully breaking apart the fragrant buds, grinding them to the perfect consistency. You couldn't tear your eyes away from his hands—the way they moved, the veins that stood out against his skin. God you needed to leave as soon as possible.

He caught you staring, and his lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Like what you see?" he teased, not looking up from his task. You scowled and whipped your head to the other direction. "fuck off woo" You breathed out. He chuckled.

"Alright try this" He finished rolling the joint with practiced ease, twisting the end perfectly. He brought it to his lips, eyes locking with yours as he lit it, the flame casting a warm glow on his features. He took a slow, deep drag, holding the smoke in his lungs before exhaling a plume that curled and dissipated into the air.

then, he held it out to you. "Try it"

You leaned forward, your fingers brushing against his as you took the joint from him. The contact was dangerous, electric, and a jolt of awareness that shot through you. You brought it up to your own lips, mimicking his slow drag, the smoke filling your lungs with a sweet potent haze.

As you exhaled, you felt it — a heady rush that your limbs feel heavy and your senses sharpen. The world seemed to slow down, the low hum of the city outside fading into a distant buzz. Wooyoung took the joint back, your fingers brushing again, and this time, his touch lingered.

You both passed it back and forth in silence, the only sounds the soft crackle of burning paper and your quiet breathing. The tension in the room grew thick, palpable , a living thing that coiled in the space between the two of you. Your skin tingled, pulse thrumming in your ears. You could feel Wooyoung's gaze on you, heavy and intent, and when you finally met his eyes, you saw something dark and hungry but he masked it in his boyish grin.

He knew. He knew exactly what it was doing to you, and he was enjoying every second of it. The teasing glances, the subtle brushes of his fingers, the low rumble of his voice — it was all a carefully orchestrated game, and you were willing to play.

"Feeling it?" he asked, his voice husky, the words hanging in the air between the two of you.

You nodded, your throat suddenly dry. "Yeah."

"Good" he murmured, leaning back against the couch with eyes on you.

Then, he leaned in closer.

You could feel the heat of him, the slow rise and fall of his chest almost brushing your shoulder. The joint burned low between his fingers, forgotten for a moment as his attention settled entirely on you.

"Your pupils are blown" he laughs lowly, tilting his head slightly to get a better look at your face. "hits fast dont it?"

You swallowed at the proximity, backing away a little. "Y-yeah.. You said it was stronger"

He hummed softly, amused. "Sure did."

he leaned back against the couch again, the low lighting carved shadows along his torso, tracing the defined lines of his abdomen, the V-line dipping beneath the waistband of his sweats. His knees brushed against yours. Too close! need to leave now!

He took another slow drag, eyes never leaving your face this time, then he reached forward. Not with the joint.

With his free hand.

His knuckles brushed lightly along your jaw, tilting your chin upward just enough to hold your gaze. The touch wasn't forceful. It didn't need to be.

"I finally got to smoke with you, been waiting on when you're gonna let me roll for you" He grins.

Your breath felt heavier in your lungs, the room softer around the edges. "You never give free shits before so."

His thumb slid just barely under your chin, warm and steady.

"Well, you never stayed this long before" his voice was slow. A slow smile curved his lips.

You hum softly, then shaking his hold off you.

The air between the two of you felt charged, heavy with smoke and something far more dangerous and risky.

"You're okay. I got you. just relax" Wooyoung exhaled slowly through his nose, eyes dropping.

The high was settling into your bones, a warm, syrupy feeling that made the plush couch feel like it was swallowing you whole. You shifted, the fabric of your dress whispering against your skin. Everything was heightened now, the low thrum of the bass from a distant club.

The silence was killing you.

"So," You spoke, voice a little softer than you intended. "What is this again? Starlight?"

"mm," Wooyoung hummed, taking another slow dragged from the joint that's almost finished. He passed it back to you, fingers deliberately brushing against her palms. "New strain, Supposed to be special"

Your brows rose, feeling a bold curiosity fueled by the haze in your mind. "Special how? what's the side effects?"

Wooyoung leaned back, spreading his arms across the back of the couch. A slow, wicked grin spread across his face. Instead of answering, he picked up his phone next to him, his thumb swiping across the screen. "Let's see what the pot heads says"

he squinted at the bright screen, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then, he let out a low chuckle, a sound was both amused and dangerous. He looked up from his phone, his eyes locking directly at you. The air crackled.

"Well, first on the list is doozy. check." He said, his voice dropping to that gravelly register that made your thighs clench. "Next is... and the primary effect is.. aroused."

The word hung between the two of you, stark and undeniable. Your breath hitched. A hot flushed crept up your neck, blooming in your cheeks. You blamed the weed, of course its the weed! but you knew it was more than that. It was him. It was the way that he's looking at you, like he knew every dirty thought tracing through your head.

"...Right" You managed, trying for nonchalance and failing miserably. You need a distraction until this shit wears off. Anything to break the intensity of his gaze. You reached out for the remote resting next to the ash tray. Your fingers fumbled with it as you pointed it at the massive , black screen mounted on the wall. You pressed the button.

The screen flickered to life, but it didn't return to a streaming service menu. It resumed exactly where it had left off. On the screen, a woman with her head thrown back in ecstasy was being thoroughly pleasure by a man whose face was mostly buried between her legs. The sound were vivid, slick and unapologetic. A litany of breathy moans and dirty talk filled the stunned silence of the room.

You froze, the remote clutched in your hand like a lifeline. Your face burned with a humiliation so acute it was almost arousing. "Oh my god, I—"

Wooyoung's laughter cut her off. It wasn't mocking; it was deep, genuine and completely unbothered. He didn't even flinch.

"I was watching porn before you arrived, sorry" He admitted with a casual shrug, as if he'd just confessed to leaving a dish in the sink. He leaned forward, propping his elbows on his knees, his gaze flicking from the screen to your mortified expression. A slow smile played on his lips before taking the remote from your hands. He pressed play before you could say anything.

"Woo! you're fucking insane" Your mouth hang open as your eyes naturally drifted to the screen. You should've stood up and left but he sank deeper into the couch next to you, close enough that you could feel the warmth radiating from his skin.

For a while, You two just watched in silence. The sounds from the TV filled the space, a rhythmic, explicit soundtrack to the tension coiling tighter and tighter between the two of you. You tried to keep your eyes glued to the screen or your phone but you were achingly aware of him beside you.

Then, to the corner of your eye, you saw it. A subtle movement. Wooyoung has shifted, slouching down into the cushions. He wasn't touching himself. Not overtly. But his hand had come to rest on his upper thigh, his long fingers languidly tracing the thick, hard line of his erection straining against the fabric of his sweats. He wasn't hiding it. He wasn't being aggressive. He was just... existing in his arousal, letting it sit there, a silent, powerful invitation. and that made it more dangerous.

Your own body responded instantly. A wave of liquid heat pooled low in your belly, your clit pulsing in time with the moans from the television. You squeezed your thighs together, a futile attempt to alleviate the sudden, desperate ache. You tried not to look, you wanted to leave but your body was heavy. You really tried but your eyes kept betraying you, darting back to the slow teasing circle his thumb was making, so close to where she suddenly, desperately wanted him to touch.

Wooyoung knew. Of course he fucking knew. He could probably smell your arousal from where he is. He let out a soft hum, a sound of deep satisfaction, and finally turned to look at you, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

"See?" he whispered, his voice low.

"Told you it was special"

The porn on the screen faded into distant, irrelevant hum. The only thing in your universe was the man next to you and the thick, pulsing tension that was making it hard to breathe. Your eyes were now glued to the prominent bulge straining against the soft grey cotton of his sweatpants. It was a blatant, confident display, and it was doing things to you that you couldn't control.

You felt his gaze on you , hot and heavy, but you couldn't meet it. You were too caught up in the sight, in the ache throbbing between your legs. Unconsciously, your thighs rubbed together, a desperate, silent plea for friction you knew he could only provide. A low chuckle rumbled in his chest; Got you.

He held out the last of the joint, the paper now short and singed. "Here, finish it" He murmured, his voice thick with smoke and satisfaction.

You took it, you shouldn't have. You should've left. You brought it to your lips, your eyes still fixed on his lap as you inhaled deeply. The smoke was potent, laced with an aphrodisiac quality that melted the last of your inhibitions. It coursed through , a warm, permissive wave that told you to stop fighting, to just take what you wanted.

And what you wanted was right beside you.

As you exhaled a low, unsteady stream of smoke, your hand moved with a will of its own. It dropped from your lap to his thigh, the skin warm and firm beneath your touch. He didn't flinch, didn't move a muscle. He just let you explore, his body a silent, willing canvas.

Your fingers inched higher, tracing the seam of his sweats until they brushed against the hard, thick ridge of his cock. The fabric was soft, but beneath it, he was rigid steel. You curled your fingers, wrapping it around him through the pants. He was bigger than you imagined, thick and heavy in your grasp, and a jolt of pure unadulterated lust shot through you.

Wooyoung let out a soft hiss of air, his head falling back against the couch. He still didn't touch you, his hand resting loosely on his own thighs, offering you complete control. The power was intoxicating.

You tightened your grip, stroking him slowly through the fabric. The friction wasn't enough. It was a frustrating tease. You needed more. You needed to feel him. skin on skin.

Your fingers found the waistband of his sweats. With a soft decisive tug, you hooked your thumb under the elastic and pulled it down just enough. His cock sprang free, slapping heavily against his lower abdomen. The sight stole the air from your lungs. He was perfect— long, thick, and flushed a deep, angry pink, the tip already beaded with pearly precum.

The joint now forgotten, was crushed out in the ash tray. There was only one thing left to do.

Leaning over, you lowered your head. The scent of him, clean and masculine and uniquely Wooyoung, filled your senses. You stuck out your tongue, tracing a slow, deliberate circle around the head, lapping up the salt drop of precum. He tasted as good as he looked.

Wooyoung's sharp intake of breath was the only reaction you needed.

Then, you parted your lips and wrapped them around the head, sinking down slowly, taking him into the heat of your mouth. He groaned, a low guttural sound of pure pleasure that vibrated straight though you, settling deep in your core. You began to move, your tongue swirling, your slips sliding, taking him deeper with each pass, the television moans now a pathetic echo of the real thing happening on this couch.

The world has narrowed to the wet slide of your lips, the heavy weight of him on your tongue, and the deep rumbling groans he was letting out. You lost yourself in the rhythm, in the raw, primal act of pleasuring him. Every flick of your tongue, every hollowing of your cheeks, was met with a sharp intake of breath or a muttered curse from above. You were so focused, so consumed by the taste and feel of him, that you didn't notice the shift in the room's atmosphere.

Wooyoung, however, did. He was a creature of his own environment, always aware. And right now, his environment was about to be breached.

While you were occupied, his hand moved from his own thigh to yours. He didn't ask, didn't hesitate. He simply gripped the hem of your dress, the soft fabric a stark contrast to his rough, assertive touch, and pulled it up, baring your legs and the thin lace of your panties to the cool air. he didn't yank or tear; the motion was dominant but deliberate, claiming.

His fingers ghosted over the soaked fabric, and he chuckled, a low, dark sound of his triumph. "Fuck baby, You're dripping for me, aren't you?" He murmured, his voice a husky caress. He pressed the heel of his palm against your clothed core, the pressure a delicious torment that made you moan around his cock. He was in control, dictating the pleasure even though your mouth was around him.

Just as his fingers hooked the side of your panties, ready to grant you the pleasure you've been desperate to have, the front door clicked open.

You froze, your mouth still full of him. Panic, cold and sharp, cut through the haze of arousal. You tried to pull back, to scramble away, but Wooyoung's hand was suddenly firm on the back of your head, holding you in place. It wasn't a rough gesture, but a silent command: Don't move.

Two figures walked in, their laughter and casual conversation dying mid-sentence as they took in the scene. It was San and Mingi. Wooyoung's friends.

They stopped just inside the doorway. For a split second, there was a stunned silence. San's eyes widened slightly, a slow, appreciative smirk spreading across his face. Mingi just blinked, his gaze flicking from your flushed face, to Wooyoung's relaxed, dominant posture, to the very obvious act happening on the couch.

There was no shock, no outrage. Just mild surprise and amusement.

San was the first to speak, his voice casual as he shrugged off his jacket. "Well, that's fucking hot"

Mingi just snorted, shaking his head with a grin as he toed off his shoes.

They didn't stop and stare. They didn't gawk or make a scene. As if it were the most normal thing in the world to walk in on their friend getting head on the couch, they simply continued their path. They walk right past them, heading for the staircase that leads to the upper floor.

"Hey Woo" Mingi called over his shoulder as he started up the stairs. "Just grabbing Gedd's order. Don't mind us."

"Yeah," San added, following him up. "Carry on. Don't let us interrupt the ... this"

Their footsteps faded away, and then the sound of a door closing upstairs.

The silence that followed was deafening. You were mortified, your entire body rigid with embarrassment. But Wooyoung, still holding you gently but firmly, just tilted his head back and laughed. A real, deep, /pissed/ genuine laugh.

"Those dickheads..." he said, his voice vibrating through his chest and into your mouth. "Has zero fucking boundaries" He finally released his hold on your head, his fingers stroking through your hair softly. He looked down at you, his eyes dark with lust and something else— something like pride.

"Now.. where were we?"

The laughter died in Wooyoung's throat, replaced by a low growl of pure need. The interruption, far from breaking the spell, has only sharpened it, adding a dangerous, thrilling edge to the atmosphere. He looked down at you, your lips swollen and your eyes wide with a mixture of lingering shock and renewed hunger, and a slow dangerous smile spread across his face.

"get up" he commanded, his voice a husky whisper.

Before you could even process the order, he was already moving. His hands were on you, strong and sure, as he effortlessly flipped you over. You landed on your back on the soft plush cushions with a soft gasp, your dress still bunched around your waist. He hooked his fingers into the sides of your panties and with one fluid decisive motion, pulled them down your legs and tossed them aside.

Now you were completely exposed to him, your glistening cunt open and waiting. he didn't give her a moment to feel self conscious. he lowered his head, not giving any warning before he dove in.

The first touch of his tongue was electric. A broad , flat stroke against your slick folds that made your back arch off the couch. He wasn't gentle or tentative; he was ravenous. He ate you out like a man starved, his tongue swirling and probing, finding your clit with a sickening accuracy that made you see stars. He alternated between sucking the sensitive bundle of nerves and fucking his tongue deep inside you, his hands gripping your thighs, holding you open for his assault.

You were so lost, your fingers tangling in his hair, your hips rolling against his face as he drove you higher and higher. The sounds from the TV were gone, replaced by the wet , lewd sounds of his mouth on you and your own breathy moans.

You were so close, teetering on the edge, when you heard footsteps again.

Your eyes fluttered open, your hazy vision focusing on the figure descending. It was San. He has come back down. He stopped at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes fixed on the scene on the couch, on Wooyoung's head buried between your shaking thighs.

A fresh wave of heat, potent and dark, washed over you. This was wrong. This was filthy. And it was the hottest thing you have experienced.

San watched for a moment, his own arousal evident in the tight line of his jaw. he walked closer, his movements slow and deliberate, until he was standing right behind the couch. he didn't look at Wooyoung. He looked at you.

"Wooyoung" San's voice was low and rough that vibrated through the room. "You're gonna make her pass out before I get a turn"

Wooyoung lifted his head, his chin and mouth glistening with your arousal. He gave him a menacing grin, a feral possessive thing. 'Fuck off San"

"Just a taste" San bargained, his gaze still locked on you. His eyes were dark and intense, a silent question in their depths. "Come on, she looks so fucking delicious"

The decision wasn't Wooyoung's to make. It was yours. San was asking you. The power shifted back into your hands, and the thrill of it was immense. You looked from San's burning eyes to Wooyoung's challenging smirk. A part of you should've said no, but the weed, the lust and the sheer audacity of it all won.

You gave a slow nod, ashamed and embarrassed.

This was all the permission San needed. Wooyoung surprisingly didn't object. He just shifted to the side, making room. San knelt on the floor by the couch, leaning in. He didn't hesitate either, his head dipping back down.

And then it happened.

Two tongues, two sets of lips, working in tandem. It was a dizzying, overwhelming assault on your senses. Wooyoung was more aggressive, his movements focused and demanding as he lapped at your clit. San's was exploratory, his tongue delving, curling inside you, tasting you deeply. They share you, passing you back and forth between their mouths like a joint, their occasional brushes against each other only adding to the thrill.

Your mind went blank. You could only feel. The dual sensations, the sight of them between your legs, the sound of their shared appreciation. Your orgasm ripped through you with the force of a tidal wave, a blinding, shuddering release that left you gasping and weak, your body twitching with the aftershocks. They didn't stop, drawing out your pleasure until you were a whimpering, oversensitive mess, completely and utterly theirs.

You were still floating in the hazy aftermath, your body limp and pliant, when you heard the heavy footsteps on the stairs again. A third person. Your heart gave a little flutter of anxious anticipation. You didn't have to wait long to see who it was.

Mingi appeared at the bottom of the steps, his tall frame filling the space. He took in the scene instantly; Wooyoung kneeling on the floor, San's head still between your thighs, your legs splayed wide and still trembling. Unlike San's initial pause, Mingi's reaction was one of immediate understanding and a grin that was pure sin.

"Oh That's what we're doing" He announced, his voice a deep, amused rumble. "Let me get a turn"

He strode over, his confidence radiating off him in waves. While San finally lifted his head, his lips shiny and his expression satisfied, Mingi was already hooking his thumb into he waistband of his own sweats. He pushed them down just enough to free himself, and your breath was caught. He was long and thick, a heavy, imposing weight that he held in his fist.

He didn't ask. He didn't wait. He positioned himself by your head, tapping the thick head of his cock against your swollen, sensitive lips. The gesture was both a question and a command. You were caught in a dizzying spiral of submission and lust. You parted your lips willingly, inviting him in.

He slid into your mouth with a low groan, his hand tangling in your hair to guide you. The sensation was overwhelming— the weight of him on your tongue, the musky , clean scent of him filling your senses.

Just as you find the rhythm, you felt Wooyoung shift. He rose from the floor, his body moving over yours, caging you in. His eyes, dark and possessive, bored into yours as he notched the head of his cock against your soaked entrance. He paused for a fraction of a second, a silent moment of connection, and then he pushed inside.

A guttural moan was muffled by Mingi's length as Wooyoung filled you completely. He didn't start fast. He set a punishing, deliberate pace, pulling out almost all the way before sinking back in, deep and hard. Each thrust forced you further onto Mingi's cock, creating a perfect, overwhelming rhythm. You were the centre of their storm, a vessel for their shared pleasure.

San , now a spectator, watched the whole scene with an avid, hungry gaze. his eyes eyes tracked the way Wooyoung's hips snapped against yours, the way your body arched to take him deeper, and the way you hollowed your cheeks moved as you suck off Mingi. He palmed himself through his jeans, a look of intense concentration on his face.

Then, he calmly pulled out his phone, He unlocked it, his thumb moving lazily across the screen. You could hear the faint click of the keyboard as he typed, his eyes still glued on the sinful scene in front of him. He held his phone to his ears.

"Yo Gedd, Yeah listen, I'm gonna have to raincheck tonight.." he said, his voice completely normal, as if he was discussing the weather. He paused, listening. " Nah, I'll deliver tonight or tomorrow.. laters."

He hung up, tossing his phone onto the armchair across with a soft thud. He looked back at you, a satisfied smirk spreading across his face.

"Wouldn't wanna miss this"

The world was a blur of sensation, a symphony of overwhelming pleasure. You were completely at their mercy, caught between the two men using your body, their movements a perfectly timed, intoxicating rhythm. The air was thick with the smell of sex and smoke that made your head spin.

While Mingi's cock filled your mouth and Wooyoung's pounded into you, San was silent, appreciative audience. He moved in a languid grace, completely comfortable in the role of being the observer. He settled on the armchair across, rolling up another joint with practice eased just like Wooyoung. He lit it, taking a slow drag as he watched them, his eyes dark and heavy-lidded.

Just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Wooyoung's thrusts began to slow. With a final, deep groan, he pulled out of you, leaving you achingly empty. Before you could even process the loss, Mingi was already withdrawing from your mouth.

"My turn" Mingi rasped, his voice laced with lust.

He didn't give her a chance to move. With a strength that was both thrilling and a little terrifying, he gripped your hips and flipped you over onto your hands and knees. the position was lewd, exposing you completely. He wasted no time, gripping his cock and sliding it in one swift, powerful stroke.

A sharp cry tore out of your throat. Mingi was rougher than Wooyoung, his thrusts harder, more demanding. He sent a relentless pace, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing in the room. But it wasn't cruel. His hand roamed on your back before finding the lose strands of your hair, he gathered in a pony tail for him to hold.

He reached out one of his arms towards San, who passed him the lit joint without a word. Mingi took it, bringing it to his lips and inhaling deeply as he continued to fuck you from behind. The sight of him, tall and powerful, smoking calmly as he drove into you. It was pushing you over the edge.

But Wooyoung wasn't done either.

he sat back on the couch next to her, his legs spread. His cock, still hard and glistening with your arousal, stood at attention. He tangled his fingers in your hair, guiding your face back towards his lap.

"Open up, Sweetheart" He says with mockery. "We're not done with you yet"

You willingly obliged, your lips wrapping around him once more. The new position was even more intense. Mingi's hard thrusts from behind forced your mouth down onto Wooyoung's length, creating a perfect, synchronised rhythm of being filled from both ends. You were their toy, their plaything, and the thought sent a fresh wave of gushing wetness down your thighs.

That's when the talking started, a low filthy phrase that pushed you to the edge.

"Look at you" San's voice heard from across the couch, thick with smoke and satisfaction. "Taking it so well. Such a good girl.."

"fuck, your mouth feels so good baby" Wooyoung groaned, his hips bucking slightly, pushing deeper. "Just like that, take it all"

Mingi, Holding the joint in one hand, used the other to deliver a sharp, stinging slap to your ass. The sharp smack made you clench around him. "You like that huh?" He growled, his voice rumbling against your back. "Like being fucked by both of us huh? While San watches? Nasty bitch"

The combined stimulation, the relentless pounding, the fullness in your mouth, the stinging pleasure on your ass, and the degrading words that was also praising her. was all too much. Your orgasm crashed through you, violent and consuming. Your body convulsed, your scream muffled by Wooyoung's cock as your walls clenched uncontrollably around Mingi's length.

They didn't stop, riding out your orgasm, drawing it out until you were a trembling, whimpering mess. Yet you craved for more.

You were a limp, quivering mess, your body still humming with the aftershocks of your last orgasm. You were barely conscious, floating in a haze of blissful exhaustion. But the night was far from over.

San had enough of watching.

He stood up from the couch, his patience worn thin. With a possessive growl, he moved to the couch, his eyes burning. He didn't ask, he didn't negotiate. He hooked his hands under your arms, yanking you back from Mingi with a rough, decisive pull that made you gasp.

"My Turn" San snarled, His words raw with declaration of intent.

he manhandled you onto the couch, positioning you so that you were straddling his lap. your back pressed on his chest. He lined up cock against your slick entrance. He didn't give you a moment to prepare before gripping your hips and slamming you down onto him.

A piercing scream tore from your throat, the sound instantly muffled as Mingi stood in front of you again, grabbing the back of your head and guiding your mouth back onto his slicked cock. San's pace was brutal, a ruthless, punishing speed that stole your breath. He used your body like a toy, lifting you up and slamming you back down , each powerful thrust driving you deeper onto Mingi's cock. The pleasure was so intense it bordered on painful , a while hot, blinding force that consumed you.

After a few moments of his merciless assault, San's movements changed, He stilled his hips, his hand gripping on your waist. "Ride me" He commanded. " Show me how much you want it"

Your muscles screamed in protest, but your body was desperate and it obeyed. You planted your hands on Mingi's waist for support and began to roll your hips, bouncing on San at the pace that he wanted.

Your eyes, blurry and hazy, landed on the forgotten joint smoldering on Mingi's hand. You reached for it, you needed the haze, the sweet smoke to dull the edged of this overwhelming feeling that's consuming you. Your movements clumsy as you continue to ride San, you brought the joint to your lips, inhaling a deep, shaky drag as you sank deeper on his length.

The three men watched you, utterly captivated. The sight of you riding one of their cocks while the other is stroking Mingi's, was the single most erotic thing they've ever seen if not experienced. Their gaze was heavy with lust, dark, possessive with pride.

Mingi stroked your cheek, his thumb wiping away a stray tear of overwhelmed pleasure. "So fucking perfect"

Wooyoung took the joint off you from behind the couch, taking a drag off it while reaching to grope one of your tits. You exhaled the thick cloud of smoke, head falling back on San's shoulder as a sudden sharp clarity cut through the fog of lust. You looked at them, a breathless, disbelieving laugh escaped your lips.

"You guys are fucking insane.." you breathed out, voice hoarse from screaming and moaning.

San just chuckled, he nipped at your ear. "You love it"

He tightened his grip, a possessive, final claim. He held you still for a moment, his chest heaving against your back, his cock buried deep inside you. Wooyoung who was watching from behind the couch saw the opportunity, eyes locked at the way you were stretched around San. Your clit swollen and begging for attention. A menacing grin appeared on his lips as he made his way around. 

“Gotta make sure she’s full right?” He spat on his hand, stroking his cock to make it slick, and then moved forward, positioning himself at your already occupied entrance. 

Your eyes widened, a jolt of panicked excitement shooting through you. ‘W-wait! I- I can't!” 

“Yes you fucking can, don’t be weak” San’s voice was low but reassuring, his arms tightening around you to hold you still. “Take a deep breath, I got you baby” 

Wooyoung started to push. The pressure was immense, a burning,  stretching sensation that teetered on the edge of pleasure and pain. You cried out, your hands unsure where to hold, body tensing instinctively. 

“That’s it baby.. You’re doing so well” Wooyoung coaxed, his voice calming you down. 

You forced your eyes open, meeting his intense gaze. He looks so fucking good. He pushed again, a slow relentless pressure, and then with a sudden, sharp pop, the head of his cock slid in along San’s 

A scream was torn from your throat, the sensation of being so impossibly, unbelievably full sending your senses into overdrive. It was a feeling of complete and utter surrender, of taking you to your absolute limit and then pushed beyond it. 

They gave you a moment to adjust, a precious second to breathe through the overwhelming stretch. Then, they began to move.

It was a clumsy, perfect rhythm at first, learning to move together. One would pull out slightly as the other pushed in, creating a constant, maddening friction. Then they found their pace, a synchronised, powerful rhythm that stole the air from your lungs.

Two cocks, stretching you, filling you, owning you. The pleasure was immense, a white-hot, all consuming fire that burned away every rational thought. Your head fell back against San’s shoulder. Your body limp and pliant in his arms as they used you, their shared grunts and groans sending you into another world. 

“So fucking perfect” San whispered in your ears, “Such a good little slut” 

“Made to be stuffed full” Wooyoung chimed in, his eyes locked on the sight of your cunt stretched around them. Then, he looked up and straight past your shoulders. He leaned in, over your shoulders where San’s face resides and claimed the older male’s lips. Like, they’ve done this before. 

You could feel the two move their heads as they locked their lips, it was the most erotic thing you have ever witnessed. 

The dirty words, combined with the relentless, dual stimulation, were your undoing. Your orgasm didn’t build; it detonated. A violent, explosive force that ripped through you, your body convulsing and clamping down around them as you screamed their names into the charged air. You were gone, shattered into a million pieces of pure, humiliating ecstasy, lost in the sensation of being filled by two men at once.

The world had dissolved into pure sensation, Your mind went completely blank as Wooyoung and San found a devastating rhythm inside of you. Each twin thrust sent a shockwave through your system, a perfect, agonizing pleasure that was too much and not enough all at once. 

Mingi, who had been stroking himself with a slow, deliberate patience as he watched, finally decided it was his turn to join the symphony. He moved to the couch, his tall frame towering over yours from the side. He tapped his leaking cock against your cheek, no words were needed, your mouth complied. 

You parted your lips, he slid into your mouth that followed a groan from his own lips. The slick heat distracts you from the painful stretch between your legs. Now you were completely full, three cocks, three men all focused on you. 

They all work in tandem, a perfect coordinated machine of pure filth. San’s hips thrust up from below, Wooyoung’s drove down from above, and Mingi slid in and out of your mouth. They moved in a rhythm that was both brutal and beautiful, a shared ecstasy that consumed you whole. Your muffled whimpers and the slick, lewd music of their music of their bodies joining together. 

You could feel it coming. The change in their breathing, the way their movements grew more erratic, more desperate and sloppy. They were all reaching their peak. 

“Fuck I’m gonna cum” Mingi groaned, his hand tightening around your hair as he began to fuck your face in earnest. “Swallow it all– fuck.” 

With final, deep thrust, he buried himself in your throat. His cock pulsed, and hot, thick ropes of cum filled your mouth. You swallowed instinctively, your throat working to take every drop as he groaned his release. 

The sight of it, the feeling of you swallowing around Mingi, was the last straw for the two. 

“Gonna fill you up” San snarled in your ear, his teeth grazing your neck as his hips slammed up into you one last time. 

“Take it” Wooyoung groaned, his eyes wild as he drove deep. 

They came together, a perfect, synchronized explosion. You felt the hot, powerful spurts of their release flooding your insides, two distinct pulses of heat that seemed to merge into one, filling you to the brim until their combined essence trickled down your thighs. The feeling was so intense, so absolute, that it triggered one final, shattering orgasm that ripped through what was left of your consciousness. 

They stilled, the only sounds in the room their heavy, panting breaths. Mingi slowly withdrew from your mouth, a soft, satisfied sigh escaping you. Wooyoung and San remained inside you for a moment longer, their bodies trembling from the aftershocks, before they too pulled out, leaving you empty and dripping with their cum. 

You collapsed forward onto the couch, used, quivering and a satisfied mess. 

For a long moment, the only sound in the room was the heavy, sated breathing of four people. The air was thick, saturated with the scent of sex, sweat and smoke. 

Then, a sound cut through the haze. 

It was your phone, buzzing and skittering across the coffee table. The sharp, insistent chirp of your custom ringtone– a cheerful, upbeat pop song– was scarily out of place. The screen lit, illuminating the name in bold, glowing letters Yunho. 

The air turned into ice. Wooyoung who broke the silence, a slow wicked grin spreading across his face. 

“Well, Well” He drawled, his voice a low purr against your ears. 

“Looks like Boyfriend’s checking in” 

You yanked your dress on, grabbing the baggies on the table as panic washes over you. 

I’m fucked. 

[fandomwritesstuff]

Don't Want a Hero

Pairing: Yunho x f!Reader Summary: After breaking up with your ex, Yunho makes you an offer to help. However, you only think of him as a golden retriever, your sweet best friend who would be too vanilla to actually help you. That is until.... Genres + Warnings 18+ Minors DNI! friends-to-lovers, kinda mean dom!Yunho, sub!Reader, unprotected P in V, breast play, rough sex, fingering, multiple orgasms, overstimulation, spanking, creampie, choking, big dick!Yunho, dirty talk, degradation (reader is called slut), praise kink (lmk if I missed any) A/N: This is my first time writing Ateez but like we all saw the Spiderman suit. I just had to try my hand. This is all fictional and not an actual depiction of the band or members Word Count: 3,327

“Oh come on, Yunho. You’re like Peter Parker and let’s face it, I’m no MJ. I don’t want a hero.” You spoke with a scoff at the quite ridiculous proposal he made. 

You had just broken up with your ex (long overdue) and were complaining about his inability to get you there. He left you tightly wound and tense, an inability to fully relax without that outlet. Yunho, hearing this and seeing how affected you've been through the breakup, offered to help you out.

“Oh? Then you want me to be a villain?” Yunho asked with a smirk as he sat in the chair next to you. Head leaning on his hand as he looked you up and down again.

A dark glint in his eyes you'd never seen before sent a chill down your spine. Your best friend had never looked at you like this–with such hunger. The air in the room becomes heavy and charged with something you hadn’t expected from your best friend.

“I’m not asking you to be what you’re not.” 

“What about an anti-hero?” 

“Still a hero aren’t they?” You asked with a raised eyebrow. You silently hoped he would drop it–move on or go back to the movie you were watching. 

“Yeah… but different.” His eyes held yours. You could get lost in the dark chocolate if you let yourself. The tension becoming nearly unbearable, as you fidget in your seat. 

You hesitated before finally asking. “How so?” 

“Let me show you.” He offered, holding out his hand. 

You glanced between his hand and his face. 

This was Yunho. Your friend that you had known for what seemed like your entire life. The golden retriever who would help you in any way that he could just to be near you. The sweet and caring boy your family trusted no questions asked. He would bear any weight if it eased the burden on your own shoulders. The one who invited you over to hear out your troubles. Now toeing the line of something more than friends. A line you weren't sure should be crossed. 

“Yunho, we–”

“This doesn't have to change anything. I just wanna help. Your ex was terrible and I just wanna help take the edge off.” 

“You think you can?” You couldn't help the bratty retort from coming out if you wanted to. 

“Oh, I know I can. I just need your permission.” His smirk seemed to grow as he edged his hand closer to you once more. The golden retriever energy that was usually so welcoming had turned predatory. 

The look in his eyes gave the sense that he knew what he was doing to you. Knew how his words were hitting home–starting the engine that only he knew how to rev.

“Don’t make me regret this.” You whispered as you placed your hand into his. The warmth sending a tingling sensation through your arm as you allow him to pull you up. 

“You won't.”

He leads you to his bedroom and pushes you against the door as soon as it’s shut. You could feel the vibration of the door against your back as you heard the click of the handle seal the door shut. One hand cups your neck, tilting your head up while the other moves to your waist. His eyes search yours for a sign of doubt.

“You have a safe word?”

“No?” You question, hesitant. Your ex was as vanilla as you could get and sought out his own pleasure over yours. A safe word was never created or deemed necessary.

“You do now, just say Venom if you need me to stop. Okay?” His tone commanding but protective as he pressed into you.

“Really? Like the–” Of course your nerdy friend would find a way to–Yunho gave you a look, cutting off your retort. “Okay, I understand.”

His eyes search yours, looking for any doubt. Your heart races, pounding against your chest. Questions of reality seeped into your head. Was he really about to do this? Was he truly prepared to cross this line–to dive over the edge?

Before you can put a voice to these questions, he dives in. His lips crashing on to yours with the heat of a burning fire. Your head tilts back against the door as he moves a leg between yours. You breathe him in, his rich cologne filling your senses with nothing but him. His hand sliding up your waist, going under your shirt, and stopping just below your breasts where your bra line is. 

Moving away a moment, your top is removed and thrown to the floor. The sound of the fabric hitting the floor is muted by your deep breaths. You quickly tug Yunho back to you by the front of shirt causing a chuckle to leave his lips. 

“Eager are we? Me too, been thinking of this for months” He confesses, causing you to gasp. 

Your thoughts reevaluating the friendship you shared with him. The subtle touches you shared, especially around others. The protectiveness that you thought was just him being caring, seemed to shift to a more jealous tone at his confession. Yet you couldn’t say that you hated it. If anything it made you want to pull him, pull him closer–tip over the edge in front of you. 

His hands finding their way to the clasp of your bra. His leg moves higher as you grind down to create the friction you need. A burning desire filling you as he moved to nip at your ear. 

“Yunho, don’t tease.” You pleaded, tugging at his shirt to remove it. 

“Yeah? You think this is teasing? You just need to be patient. Good girls get what they want.” He whispered into your ear, a chill moving down your spine. Removing your bra, he cups your breasts in his hands. 

His mouth begins a trail of open mouth kisses down your neck to your chest before sucking a nipple into his mouth. Using his fingers to pinch the other, almost painfully, a soft moan falls from your lips. You felt him smirk as he released your hard nipple with a pop. 

“Oh? You like that? Like a little roughness, don’t you?” He asked, blowing air onto your hard nipple causing another shiver to go down your spine. You couldn’t answer as your brain tried to comprehend the mean behavior coming from your closest friend. He continued to pinch your other nipple, twisting it after a moment. You yelped as he chuckled. 

“Good sluts answer when asked something.” 

“Yes! Yes, sorry.” You answered hurriedly, not expecting this from your sweet Yunho. The whiplash smacks your senses to alert. He chuckled as his eyes met your wide ones. 

He gives the same treatment to your other nipple as his free hand undoes the button of your jeans. 

After releasing your breasts, he pulls down your pants as he kisses down your stomach to your panties. Helping you step out of your pants, he then moves up your legs, glancing up at you as he pauses over the only clothing left on your body.

“Such a good girl. Tell me what you want.” 

“I want you. Touch me, please.” You begged softly.

“I am touching you.” His hands grip your thighs lightly, a reminder of their placement.

“Yunhooo.” You whine, bucking your hips in an attempt to put his attention where you need it. The heat building becomes almost unbearable.You could feel your wetness pooling uncomfortably in your panties. The clothing feels too tight against your now sensitive skin. You attempt to rub your thighs together only for Yunho's body to stop you.

Yunho scoffed before lightly pinching your thigh. 

“Good girls don't whine. Use your words.”

“Touch me, my pussy, please, Yunho. Just please–” You beg, bucking your hips again. 

“Good girl.” He mumbled as he kisses the inside of your thigh, hooking his fingers into your panties and slowly pulling them down. A soft moan escaping your lips as the restrictive material peels away from your body.

Moving your legs over his shoulders, he lifts you to exactly where he wants you. Your weight fully against him and his door.

“So wet, and all for me. Always wonder how’d you taste–how’d you sound.” He speaks, causing heat to rise to your cheeks. He then dives into your core, wide tongue pressing flat against you causing your head to fall back again.

Your hand finds his hair as moans pour out of your chest. Yunho groans, sending vibrations straight to your core. You clench around nothing as his tongue circles your clit.

“So sweet, perfect little pussy.” He mumbles, pulling away only a moment before reattaching his lips to suck your clit into his mouth. One hand reaches around to part your lips. All while the other toys with your entrance, rubbing a teasing circle around it before sinking in a finger knuckle deep. 

He thrusts in a few times before having a second join. Starting a scissoring motion, you feel the delicious pain of a stretch join your pleasure. All while he continues to lap and suck at your clit, abusing the tiny nub.

“Yunho!” You moan, fingers digging into his scalp, causing him to groan.

“Eyes on me, baby girl.” He speaks, pulling his mouth away for a moment. Voice deep and rough as his thumb quickly takes the vacant spot his mouth left. You struggled to move your head to follow his command, eyes meeting his once more. “You don't cum until I say so, got it?”

His question goes unanswered as a sudden rough thrust and curl of his fingers causes your head to lull back as you moan.

A moment later his hand stops as he pulls his fingers away. A whine involuntarily escapes your mouth as your hips attempt to chase his fingers. 

“And here I thought you could be good for me, but you can't even answer a simple question.” He speaks, carefully setting your legs down. After making sure you were good to stand on your weakened legs, he rises to his feet. The coldness of the room is more apparent as his heat leaves you.

“On the bed, hands and knees.” He orders, moving away from you.

You hesitate only a moment before moving toward the bed. You crawl onto the sheets, glancing over your shoulder when you hear the sound of his belt coming undone. 

His shirt was removed and you stared at his defined chest for a moment. Catching your eyes, Yunho smirks as he pulls his belt free from the loops. Chucking it to the side of the room, he makes to undo his pants. 

“Eyes forward.”

At the command, you whip your head back not wanting to fan the flames anymore. Curiosity dangled in front of you like a carrot on a stick, but you refused to accept it. You took a deep breath attempting to calm the pounding in your chest as you hear him shuffle closer to the bed. You feel the mattress shift as he leans on it. His hand skims over the skin of your ass as he sharply inhales. 

“So beautiful.” He mumbled as he raised his hand and brought it back down with a sharp smack. “Count for me.” He orders, rubbing the now sore spot. 

“One.” Your voice already having a slight shake in it causing him to chuckle. 

“Think you can handle ten?” 

“Yes, sir.” The title slipped out easily causing more heat to rise on your face and ears. You speak without hesitation, but when the next slap doesn't come you start to wonder if your really can handle–

SLAP! He groans as he brings his hand down on the other cheek.

“Two.”

Pleasure mixes with pain as he continues at a steady pace. Each new slap brings a new wave of pleasure directly to your core. Wetness pools and spreads down your thighs. Moans mixing in with your counting as you collapse to your elbows. Tears threatened to fall from the corners of your eyes as you hide your head in his pillows. The coolness of his sheets, a nice contrast to the heat of your raw skin.

“Ten.” You sobbed into the pillow after the final blow.” 

“What was that? Couldn’t quite hear you.” He taunted, rubbing your sore skin to ease some of the pain. 

“Ten!” You cried louder, lifting your head to look at him. He was smirking as he met your eyes. 

“Look at you, so desperate.” he spoke as his hands spread you apart. “All wet and dripping for me. I think you liked your punishment, didn't you?” His fingers dip to collect some of your arousal, before moving them to your mouth. 

“Suck.” 

Your mouth opens automatically, welcoming his fingers. You lap at the digits, moaning at your own taste, before wrapping your lips fully around them. You trail your eyes up to his as you begin to suck. There's a fire in his eyes you'd never seen before. The dark chocolate hardening right in front of you.

The intensity turns you on in a way you didn't think possible. 

“Think you can handle my cock now?” He asks as he removes his fingers slowly from your warm cavern.

“Yes, please! Yunho, please give it to me. Just fuck me, ple–”

Your words were cut off by a moan as you felt the head of his cock slowly ease its way into you. He was much larger than you were used to. The stretch burning as you tried to subconsciously pull away. 

His hands quickly stop you, gripping your hips, keeping you in place.

“Where you going? I thought this was what you wanted? Can my baby girl not handle it? Is my dick too big for you?” He taunts as he continues to push. 

“It’s too much–too big. Yunho, I can't.” 

“You can. My baby girl was made for me. Squeezing me so tight. Fuck, I'm almost there. Gonna feel so good, baby. Just relax and take it–take me.” 

Yunho mumbled as he continued to push. You could feel the veins and pulse of his cock as it sunk in deeper. Every time you thought he was done, it just kept going. A slow stretch that continued until you felt him hit your cervix. It was a delicious burn that had you clenching your eyes shut. Tears threatening to spill from them. His hips becoming flush with yours.

He leaned over, putting his weight gently on your back. He placed a couple kisses on your shoulder before leaning up to your ear. 

“So tight and perfect. Made just for me.” He spoke in a deep whisper. The words cause you to clench. A soft moan leaving your lips. He groans as he leans back, hands rubbing your hips. Your breath slowly became even as the pain gave way to a pure bliss as your eyes fluttered open once again.

“Yunho, move, please.” You begged, glancing over your shoulder to see a slight smirk on his face. 

Gripping your hips, he pulled back until only his tip remained before thrusting sharply back in with a snap of his hips. The pace he set was brutal as it shook the bed, headboard banging into the wall from the intensity of each thrust. Bruises would form where his fingers dug in.

Your hands dug into his pillow and sheets. Trying to ground yourself in the intense raw pleasure coursing through your body. Like a large wave dangerously crashing on a beach.

Moans tumbled from your mouth. Cries of his name and curses mixing together in a beautiful cacophony. Yunho’s grunts and groans sending jolts straight to your core. 

He then leaned over once more. A hand slid between your legs to find the bundle of nerves that would bring you even closer to the edge. The other holds his weight beside you, as to not crush you beneath him fully.

“Yunho, please!” 

“Please, what? What does my girl need?” 

“Let me cum, please.” You sobbed, burying your head in his pillow once again. 

His lips brushed your ear, hips barely slowing in their thrusts. 

“Cum for me.” He growled, sending you straight over. 

Feeling you clench, Yunho slowed for only a moment. Removing the hand from your clit to rub soothing circles into your hip. He groans deeply in your ear before continuing the brutal pace he originally set. 

“Yu-Yunho! It’s too much!” You spoke, one of your hands moving toward his body to push him away.

“Too much? But we just got started, baby. You can handle it. You can always use your safeword if you need me to stop. But you can give me one more, right? My good girl can give me another.” He spoke in your ear before attaching his lips to your neck and sucking on the sensitive skin there. 

Venom danced around in your head only for a moment, as pleasure began to pool in your core once again. The word at the tip of your tongue as the flames of pleasure threatened to burn you.

Moans tumbled from you as your senses became overwhelmed. The drag of him lighting your nerve ends on fire, a burning pleasure consuming everything. Your thoughts go mush as you push back against him, chasing every thrust as he pulls back. 

He then wraps his hand around your throat, pulling you up so your back meets his chest. Brutal thrusts not stopping as he chuckles darkly in your ear. 

“Yeah, that's what you need, huh? Someone to be rough and treat you like the little slut you are?” He growls and you can feel yourself clench even harder. 

The finger on your clit returns, rubbing faster and harder on the abused nerve. Waves of pleasure wash over you as your hands grip onto Yunho’s arms. 

“Look at you, so beautiful like this. No thoughts, just cock drunk on my dick. Sucking me in so good. Never wanna leave this perfect pussy.” 

Yunho’s thrusts become erratic as he continues to ramble. You can feel him pulsing against your sensitive walls as he hones in on his own release. 

“Where do you want me, baby?” 

You struggle to find your voice for a moment “Inside!” You finally cry out. “I n-need it in-inside.” 

“Yeah?” He chuckles at your struggle. “Want me to breed you like a bitch in heat?” You couldn’t stop the moan at his words from tumbling out. 

“Of course you do. I knew you’d like that. Cum for me baby. I’ll give you what you need, but you gotta cum first.” He ordered snapping the coil to your release once again. A shattering feeling causing you to lose all sense of feeling for a moment. 

“That’s it, so perfect. I’m gonna–” His words get cut off by his own moan as he falls over the edge moments after you. He thrusts a couple more times, riding out your highs before slowly pulling out.

Yunho's hands moved to support you as he helps you lay down on your back. 

“You okay? Still with me?” He asks after a moment and you nod. 

“Yeah, I'm here.” Your voice is quiet, softer than normal. 

“I'm gonna grab a towel to clean you up, I'll be right back.” He explains as he makes his way off the bed. The golden retriever you were used to, returning after the night's activities bringing a familiar warmth to your heart. He leaves the room for less than five minutes, coming back with a wet towel. 

Yunho's hands are gentle as he cleans. His eyes watching your reactions and pausing when needed. He massages your legs lightly before throwing the towel in his hamper. He then joins you in the bed, carefully pulling you to his chest. 

 “Hey Yunho?” You speak after a moment.

Humming in acknowledgement, he tilts his head down to look at you. 

“I don't think I mind an anti-hero.”

[kangsyeosang]