best friend benefits
(part 3) • yunho x reader
synopsis: after a messy argument, yunho and reader are...not doing great. wooyoung helps her work through it a little. yunho comes over and confessions happen.
part 1 ♡ part 2
request: original request from (@joshuahongdarling). (Requests are open - send me an ask!)
misc. tags: yunho x reader, (fem reader), smut (mdni), fluff, emotional hurt/comfort, angst. wooyoung still loves to debrief and tease yunho & reader. confessions, etc.
a/n: okay it took me months to finish but here's the final part! hope you enjoy
warnings: smut (mdni). fingering, p in v, riding.
thanks for reading! let me know what you think! 💜
There was knocking at the door the next morning, loud and purposeful. You padded to the door in your socked feet and oversized hoodie, opening it to see Wooyoung standing there, in a tracksuit and cradling a large, brown paper bag in one hand, two cups of coffee in the other.
His eyes were sympathetic. “Hi. How you doing?”
You sighed. “Just come in.”
“Yes, ma'am.” He went to set the food down on your kitchen island. The two of you took seats at stools across from each other, with Wooyoung starting to unload the bag’s contents and you resting your head in your arms on the table. The day had just started and you were already weighed down by it, by the memory of last night.
He pushed food, followed by plastic utensils, over toward you and scanned your face. “That bad, huh?”
You pouted your lip and nodded. “So bad.”
Wooyoung pushed the coffee toward you, taking a sip of his own. “Let it out, girl.”
You told him everything – though, holding back some of the more explicit details, like the “brat” conversation and everything he did to you. When you told him what Yunho had said,
“Are they rumors if they're true?”
and all of what followed, Wooyoung's face fell, more serious than you'd seen it before.
“Holy shit. That is bad.”
You put your face in your arms on the table, nodding.
“I'm sorry.”
“It's alright,” you said, your voice muffled by your sweatshirt.
“But…”
Your head snapped up. “But what?”
Wooyoung grimaced, hesitating. “I told you he caught feelings.”
You groaned, head safely back in the dark world of your sleeves. “But why? I wasn't leading him on, right? I mean, he was the one that started calling us friends with benefits!”
After a beat of silence, you looked up to see if Wooyoung was even still there. He was, lips pressed into a line.
“What.” you said flatly, eyes narrowing.
“Well, you weren't leading him on, no. But that's just because you weren't actively friendzoning him.”
“Huh?”
Wooyoung breathed a laugh. “I'm gonna hold your hand while I say this, babe,” and he did just that, taking your hand into both of his. “I think you caught feelings too.”
You recoiled your hand, utterly confused. “The fuck?” You tried to laugh. “No. I didn't.”
Another sympathetic smile. “You've told me everything about the two of you, and your ‘friendship,’” he said, using air quotes. “At first, yeah, you guys were just fucking. But somewhere along the way I could tell that at least one of you–probably Yunho–was in it for more than that. And you started acting like that not long after.”
You had begun to absently pick at the food he got you, needing a distraction. “You're so fucking wrong, it's funny.”
Wooyoung snorted. “Yeah, okay.”
“I am not in love with him!” You protested.
“Maybe not, but you do have feelings and he definitely does.”
You were stunned. This was supposed to be simple. Yunho was your best friend. You laughed together. You just had fun together. You loved how good he was to you, you enjoyed being with each other–
“Shit.”
Wooyoung pointed at you, eyes widening in delight, mouth full of food. “Ha! You're seeing it now, aren't you?”
Your head was in your hands. “Fuck!”
“God, you've got a dirty mouth. Bet Yunho thinks so too–”
“Stop.”
“Sorry,” he giggled.
“I don't know what to do with this information!”
Wooyoung hopped off the stool, crossing over to wrap his arms around you, locking your shoulders in place. He gave your hair a quick peck.
“Would you ever consider being in a relationship with him?”
You gaped. “I haven't even processed this yet– I don't think I can even imagine what us dating would be like.”
He let you go, returning to his stool. “I can. It would be what you're already doing but with a sprinkle of romance, a lot more clarity, and less secret fucking.”
You scoffed. “So, we'll start fucking in public then?”
Wooyoung made an annoyed face at you. “You know what I mean. You can spend time with each other without it being limited to only friend hangouts and sex. Something more, you know?”
You considered this. It did sound nice. You definitely weren't against it. And with the fear of rejection not as present as it typically would be, given the feelings Yunho had been trying to gradually make apparent – a small curiosity, maybe even the smallest hope– sparked within you. You were intrigued. Maybe…maybe it could be something more.
You sighed. “But…but after last night? I'm not sure if he'll even want to talk to me.”
Wooyoung shook his head. “No, he will.”
“How do you know?”
“He's obsessed with you. A little fight couldn't change that.”
“Obsessed?”
“Let's just say…” he paused, obviously to be dramatic, leaning in, “He went a little off the rails last night when we went out after the performance.”
“Oh god, what did he do?” your brows crinkled in concern.
“He got absolutely hammered,” Wooyoung said matter-of-factly. “And he wouldn't stop talking about you. All night.”
“Oh my God.”
“It went from getting mad about you and him not dating yet, going on about how you'd be the perfect couple, to crying over how much he likes you, to yammering on about how pretty you are,” Wooyoung sighed. “Honestly, it got fucking annoying fast.”
“Should you be telling me all this?”
“Yes, so you can maybe fix him? Please fix him,” Wooyoung pleaded. “He's so insufferable when he's yearning.”
You laughed. Your body was calmer now, your dress and regret eased, but your heart was swelling with…something. Apprehension, maybe, or possibly hope, or some bizarre mix of both. You feared what might happen to your now confusing friendship, but let yourself dream – just a little – of what could be.
“I think we both need some time,” you decided. “But I will talk to him soon. Please don't tell him we talked. It'll just push him further off the deep end.”
“Okay, but if he starts telling us how pretty you are one more time, I'm going to duct tape his mouth, tie him up, and drop him on your doorstep.”
“Jesus, Woo.”
“I already know you're pretty! When's he going to tell me how pretty I am?” Wooyoung joked.
“When he falls in love with you after fucking him as a friend for years.”
“Well, it's too fucking late for that.”
° ° °
A couple of weeks passed in a blur. Yunho was on your mind constantly, but work was all you were able to devote your time to. You hoped he was okay. Your anxiety grew with each day you didn't hear from him, worried about him and worrying that you had lost your best friend for good. Each performance, each interview, each promotion felt like it dragged, and it all felt so pointless in comparison to your worries.
One night, you were lying on your couch, exhausted but content, because you had been able to come home a little earlier that day, finally having some free time. You'd decided to order food, binge a show, and just forget everything for a little while.
You were already in your pajamas, nestled in a large, soft blanket, TV blaring, when an abrupt knock at the door made you jump. You looked at the time: 9:45 PM. There was another knock. You hesitated, hoping that when you got up to get the door you weren't about to be greeted by a serial killer, or worse, one of your off-putting neighbors. You looked through the peephole.
Yunho stood there, looking disheveled, about to knock a third time.
You opened the door with robotic movements, all the blood and adrenaline in your body suddenly surging through your limbs. Yunho put his hand into his pocket, trying and failing to give you a smile.
“Hey.”
“Hey?”
He cleared his throat. “Can I… come in? Can we talk?”
You only nodded, moving out of the way so he could come in. As he brushed by you, you smelled the familiar combination of his cologne, light sweat, and a eucalyptus smell you'd always assumed was his shampoo. The whiff of it relaxed your nerves automatically, feeling some of the blood rushing through you slow its course.
Yunho stood awkwardly in the hallway, his hands clasped together like he didn't know what to do with them.
You looked him over. “You've…been here before. You can put your coat on a hook.”
He chuckled weakly, shrugging off his coat. “Yeah, I know. Just…we have stuff to talk about…feels weird,” he mumbled.
You didn't respond, not exactly sure how you would. You returned to your spot on the couch, and he followed, taking a seat a few feet away from you, sitting up rigidly straight, hands in his lap.
“So. What's up?” you ask, wanting to get whatever this was over with. At least he'd saved you the trouble of having to seek him out like you'd been meaning to do.
He sighed. “I wanted…I wanted to say that I'm sorry.”
You're surprised, but your whole body seems to relax. You thought he might have been there to get out some anger, to express how upset he was with you. But deep down, you knew that wasn't like him, seeking someone out just to vent at them, confront them.
“I was a dick, leaving you like that.”
You kind of thought so too, but quietly said, “It’s alright.”
“No, it's not. I just fucked you and left you there. And after you had been so stressed about your performance. I was just trying to help you out, but I ended up giving you more stress.” Yunho ran a hand through his hair, glancing up at you. “I'm sorry. I'm so sorry.”
“Yu–”
“And I'm sorry for getting so mad about…the other stuff.” Yunho looked away, staring at a point in the distance. He didn't speak for several seconds, considering his next words, hands fidgeting with his hoodie sleeves and stretching them over his fists like a nervous child. You'd never seen him this anxious before.
“I…” he sighed again, this time in exasperation. He still can't meet your eyes, though he's picked a new spot to stare at.
You can feel it, the tension, the fear radiating off him. You suspect what might be coming, and send out a peace offering: you scoot closer to him on the couch, reach for one of his sleeve-covered hands, and wrap your arms around it, grounding him.
His breath hitches, barely audible, at the closeness, and suddenly his gaze is completely, intensely on you. You stare back, feeling frozen like a deer in headlights. His eyes shine softly in the low light, and you hear in his voice that he's close to letting tears fall.
“I think…I'm in love with you.” His voice cracks at the end, and your heart breaks a little.
You say nothing, feeling your expression speak for you. You know you're staring at him with pity, but you can't help it. You were afraid of this. So, so afraid. You were still processing, trying to understand what you felt yourself, and you had no idea how to respond. You hold his arm a little tighter.
Yunho wipes at his eyes with his other sleeve, the first tears falling. God, he's pretty when he cries, yet your chest aches so much at the sight of it. “I tried to just be normal, you know? I didn't want to – I didn't want to make this complicated, but it just happened–”
“Yunho.”
He's wiping his eyes still, looking down, fighting off soft sobs.
“Look at me.”
He does. You put both hands on his cheeks, brushing away tears, whispering, “It's okay, baby.”
Something in him falls apart at that, something completely breaking his already crumbling self. Yunho gently pushes your hands away and grabs your face, kissing you, and you taste salt and need and desperation.
He pulls back, breathing heavily, eyes still watery. He looks shocked at his own actions. “I'm sorry– fuck, I'm sorry, I'll just go –”
You grab his hand, and he turns slowly to look at you.
“Stay,” is all you can utter, and he's back on the couch, leaning you back onto it as he kisses you again, a knee between your legs.
“Please– can we–” he's gasping between kisses– “one last time?”
“Yes,” you breathe.
Soon, after most clothes have been discarded onto your living room floor and you've both completely given up on breathing any more than a few gasps of air at a time, you're grinding your clothed clit against his tented boxers as he grips you, peppering biting kisses all over your neck and chest.
“Fuck,” Yunho's voice is desperate, choked at the feeling of you on him, but it wasn’t quite enough yet. “Fuck…so good.”
You let out a weak, whiny moan, already feeling your wetness soak through your underwear. Your arms hang loosely around his neck as you feel him growing harder beneath you.
He groans, and barely gets out, “Ready?”
You nod, your body ready, but in the back of your mind, you're screaming at yourself for ignoring the significance of all of this – would this be your last time together? Do you want it to be? No, you don't want it to be, you think you probably love him, and oh, God, he loves you, but he doesn't know you do too and oh, he was actually crying, and –
He's tugging down your underwear and you huff a frustrated breath at the loss of contact, but then when he pulls his dick out, all previous concerns about why the two of you are doing this are gone. You just want him.
Yunho rubs at your clit in slow, intense circles, and your back arches a little. “Shit, you're wet that fast?” He groans, sounding actually in awe.
“It’s you,” you respond in a voice that sounds so unlike your own. You feel needier than usual, your body sparking at his every touch, and it's all on display. Something flashes in his eyes at your words, something you'd register later as a strange mix of confused and hopeful.
Then, like a flipped switch, his own voice changes, deeper and darker than usual. “Me, pretty girl?” he slurs as he pushes a couple fingers inside, making you cry out. “You’re getting like this…for me?” His tone is laced with teasing filth you can practically feel in your bones as he pumps his fingers in and out.
You bite your lip, eyes shut tight, as you try to fight the moan in your throat, as your body can't help but try to thrust against his fingers.
Yunho clicks his tongue, pulling his fingers out. Your eyes open wide, hating the absence it leaves, and he laughs.
“You're not just getting off on my fingers tonight, sweet girl,” he says as he grabs your hips, warm hands gripping tightly as he pulls you up to his waist, his back against the couch, your knees on either side of him. “I need you. I’ve needed you for weeks.”
Your need takes over, frantically helping Yunho pull off his boxers. You push yourself up to hover over him. “I think I’ve always needed you,” he mutters just before you sink down onto him, and the movement combined with the words has your heart pounding.
You both let out a groan as you fit together, slowly sinking your body down over him as he gradually pushes up, stretching you, playing the game of “how far can I go?” you’ve both played too many times to count.
“Oh, jagiya,” he sighs. “You’re going to kill me, I know it.”
As you begin to move, you let out in a strained breath and a smirk, “You’ll die happy then, right?”
Yunho’s grin turns into a breathy moan as the two of you move together, trying to find a steady pace. It’s taking everything in him to not fuck you senseless, to not let instinct take over. It’s taking everything in you to not say what you’ve been thinking since he came here.
Every thrust, every breath, every moan has you wanting to say those three words he said to you.
As your shared pace grows quicker, the warm rush building so intensely, he grips your back, hands splayed, trying to keep you upright as you feel yourself start to let go, letting him keep hitting that just-right spot over and over. You grip his shoulders so tightly that your nails start to dig into his skin, and it spurs him on even more knowing he’ll have those marks later.
“Yunho, I--” Your eyes are shut tight, feeling all of it, and you’re starting to feel the first sparks of your release.
“I know, baby,” he grunts lowly, “I feel you, you’re so tight around me.” He pulls your upper body closer to him, and his face is in your chest, every breath hot on your skin and the rumble of his voice finally pushing you over the edge, “Come for me, jagiya. Let me have it.”
Your release is dizzying, disorienting, but ecstatic as you come, his name escaping your mouth over and over in a strangled cry. It finally puts him over the edge, feeling you come apart around him and seeing you let go of everything completely, and he pulls you flush against him, your arms fully around his shoulders and his fully around your waist. You feel warmth flood you as he lets out broken moans, riding out his orgasm like it’s the last time he’ll ever feel anything.
You hold each other for a while as you come down from the high, the world fading back into reality, hot skin and breaths and complete and utter closeness the only things you can comprehend.
Sitting in his lap still, you press your forehead to his, savoring the feeling of it all, of his breaths mingling with yours. Suddenly, your mind is filled with clarity.
“I have to tell you something,” you say, just above a whisper. His eyes are still closed, and his smile is blissful when he responds, somehow so earnestly, “Yes, baby, I’m listening.”
You take a breath, nervous but certain. “I think…you’re not the only one who messed the friends-with-benefits thing up.”
Yunho’s eyes flash open, and he’s staring into yours with confusion and the tiniest glimmer of anticipation. “What do you mean?” His voice is so small, so hesitant, that it hurts you that it’s taken so long for you to tell him.
“I love you,” you say, kissing him before he can say anything else. Somehow, it already feels different, despite having kissed only minutes ago.
He pulls away from you, his eyes wild, searching your face. “Are--are you sure?”
You laugh, running your fingers down his cheek. “Yes, baby, I’m sure.”
“It’s not just…you’re not just saying that…because of the sex?”
“What, my hormone-addled brain can’t handle truths in post-coitus?
Yunho chuckles, shaking his head in disbelief. “Not what I meant,” he puts his hand over his eyes and sighs. “God, you’re so weird sometimes.”
“Does that change anything?” you grin.
“Not a fucking bit,” he says, and pulls your body flush against him, holding you tightly.
He pulls away again to look at you moments later, and asks in the smallest whisper, “It’s really true?”
Your hands settle on either side of his face, hoping the warmth of them and the pressure will help him understand that this is reality. “Yes, Yunho. It’s true. I promise.”
“Fuck,” he breathes out before crashing his lips into yours. It's like you're feeling all of him at once for the first time: the heat of his skin against yours, his heartbeat thumping just underneath, the tone of his muscles and the softness of his lips. But more than that– it's like new colors are bursting in your mind, and your entire being feels more alive than it ever has.
He settles his face in the crook of your neck, inhaling a deep breath as if trying to breathe all of you in. “Thank you for telling me,” he says softly. “What now?”
You consider for a moment. Now, you can be real together, even if it's away from the public eye; you can go on dates, you can hold hands, you can send each other sweet texts, you can let the “friends” facade down for good and love each other deeply. This all flashes through your mind, and you're about to tell him these beautiful things before your brain comes to a screeching halt, and you laugh loudly.
“What?” Yunho looks up at you, smiling and confused.
“Now I've gotta tell Wooyoung.”
“What. No!”
“Yu, he’s been waiting for this,” you chuckle. “Also, he threatened to tie you up and duct tape your mouth if you kept talking about how pretty I am,” you grin as the last few words leave your lips.
“Goddammit, I knew you two talked too much!”
