[yeskookii]

Clingy bf Taehyung hc ⋆˚꩜｡. .sfw&nsfw.

Tags: fluff, explicit sexual content, HES DRAMATIC I LOVE HIM

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SFW

He’s a total koala in bed, no exceptions. Likes to sleep naked or in just boxers, bcuz he wants maximum skin contact. If ur wearing clothes, he’ll gently tug at the hem of ur shirt until u take it off so he can press his whole chest against ur back.

Actually gets a bit sulky if u’re on ur phone in bed. He’ll take it from ur hands, put it on the nightstand, and replace it with his head on ur lap or his hands pulling u back down to cuddle. “You’re developing bad habits that’s really offensive to me, you think the phone gonna cuddle with you?.”

He’s ridiculously handsy in a non-sexual, domestic way. Walking past u in the hallway, his hand will brush the small of ur back. Sitting at the table, his foot will find ur foot under it. Standing in line, his fingers will hook into ur belt loop or the back pocket of ur jeans, squeezing ur butt in the meantime.

Does NOT like closed doors between u. If u’re in the bathroom showering, he’ll come in to brush his teeth or just sit on the toilet lid and talk to u through the steam. The visual barrier of a curtain is fine, but a locked door hurts his feelings.

If ur doing chores, he’ll follow u from room to room like a shadow, talking about his day or just watching u fold laundry. He finds comfort in ur mundane presence. He’ll sit on the bed and hand u clothes to fold just to be involved.

He will literally get on his knees begging u to cook for him. Yep, he’s dramatic like that. He knows u won’t say no to him, u never do, especially for food. He just loves begging u for anything, and getting on his knees for u.

Gets genuinely sad if u have separate plans. He won’t throw a fit, but he’ll give u the biggest, most mournful puppy eyes and say, “Okay... have fun without me,” in a tone that implies he’ll be counting the minutes.

He’s hyper-aware of ur energy. If u’re stressed, he comes up behind u and just rests his forehead between ur shoulder blades, silent, sharing the weight. He doesn’t always need to fix it; he just needs to feel it with u.

Taehyung turns into a sad kicked puppy if he feels neglected. If u’re focused on something else for too long, he’ll eventually come over and lay his head on ur desk or book, blocking ur view, saying nothing. Just existing obtrusively until u pay attention to him.

Loves sharing everything. “Here, taste my drink.” Bites of his food. Even if he has his own blanket, he’ll want to share urs so he can be under the same fabric as u.

His ideal day off is literally just being in the same space as u, doing parallel play. Him editing photos on his phone while u read, legs tangled together on the couch, with occasional breaks where he shows u a picture or gets up to kiss ur temple for no reason.

The clinginess intensifies if he’s tired or sick. He turns into a giant, whiny baby who just wants to be held. He’ll drag u to bed at 3 PM on a Saturday because he wants a nap and “it doesn’t count if you’re not napping too.”

He finds reasons to come find u. “Do we have more coffee?" (He knows u do). “What do you think of this song?” (He’s played it for u five times). It’s never about the question; it’s about the three minutes of interaction it buys him.

He’s the type to stare, openly and without shame. If he thinks you look hot in an outfit, he’ll just stand there, eyes raking over you from head to toe, and say, “Yeah. Nope. We’re staying in.” Dead serious. Then he’ll walk over, pick you up, and carry you back to the bedroom, no arguments accepted.

When he wakes up in the middle of the night, feeling cold and the bed beside him empty, he’ll stand up looking for u, finding u in the bathroom. He’ll shuffle in, hair a mess, eyes squinting against the light, lean against the doorframe, and just watch you pee. Both of u looking at eo, “why didn’t u wake me?” He whispers, and ure too tired to reply to him so He just waits for u. When you’re done, he hands u toilet paper after u wash ur hand; takes your hand and leads you, half-asleep, back to bed, tucking you in before collapsing back onto his pillow. “Wake me up next time.” He murmured on the pillow, “okay” u say, not arguing with him cuz yk u will never win.

Taehyung loves taking care of u, but he loves it just as much when u take care of him. He gets all soft when u wash his hair or gently scrub his back, smiling to himself the whole time. He’ll mumble a quiet “ur spoiling me…” but he secretly hopes u never stop. By the end, hes always hugging u under the warm water for a few extra mins cuz he just loves feeling close to u.

He doesn’t understand the concept of “personal space” during private moments. You could be on a private work call, and he’ll walk in, kneel in front of you, and start mouthing at your stomach all the way to the small of ur back, because he’s bored. He sees no conflict between your meeting and his need for attention.

Taehyung’s face is ALWAYS on ur face. Doesn’t matter if u talking to him or just randomly press his cheek against yours, rub his nose against yours, or rest his forehead against yours just because he loves being that close. half the photos on his phone are pretty selfies with both of your faces squished together because the second he’s cuddled up against you, he’s already reaching for his camera to capture it.

If he’s upset with you, his form of protest is exaggerated, silent clinginess. He’ll follow you from room to room and sit right next to you, but with his arms crossed, lips pursed, staring ahead. He’s giving you the silent treatment while physically glued to your side. You have to coax the problem out of him while he’s literally in your lap.

Never shy asking for what he wants, physically. “Scratch my head.” “Play with my hair.” “Hold my hand.” “Kiss.” He points to his lips or his cheek. He says it like he’s reminding you of a scheduled appointment.

He’ll wear your perfume or your lotion. Not a little. He’ll douse himself in it. When his members or friends say, “You smell like y/n,” he’ll just nod proudly. “I know. It’s better than my cologne.”

Hes a spoiler also, his gifts r not ordinary. Hes rich, pls take his money, he will buy u a car and all the bags and makeup u ask for. Expect long lovely vacations everywhere ur heart desires.

Taehyung is always quietly paying attention to you even if u dont rlly realize it. He notices the tiniest changes in ur mood, like the way ur smile isnt the same or how ur voice gets a little quieter, and he’ll just naturally pull u closer, hold ur hand, or wrap an arm around u without making it a big deal. Hes super careful with his words cuz the last thing he wants is to accidentally hurt ur feelings or make u uncomfy. If he can tell somethings bothering u he wont make it abt himself, he’ll just be like “baby… what can i do to make it better?” Hes clingy in the sweetest way cuz he just wants to be ur comfort person, the one who notices you’re not okay before u even have to say anything. ㅤ♡ྀི

NSFW

Taehyung has this terrifyingly hot duality; he can go from kissing ur forehead with pure devotion to pinning ur wrists above ur head with one hand, his grip tight enough to leave a mark.

his hands r huge. like unfairly big. and he knows it. one palm on the back of ur skull, fingers threaded through ur hair, and u just stop moving. he doesn't even have to say anything.

Another thing why u love his hands playing with u, is his fingers reaches ur everything. Not as deep as his cock, but they r skillful. His favorite place to finger u is in his car. Squirting on his backseat is his ultimate goal.

Taehyung loves pinning u down from behind, pressing his chest flat against ur back and locking your wrists together with one hand while he drives into you.

He loves having sex where it’s risky. in the middle of the night where the others are asleep, fucking u from behind and pressing his hand on ur mouth keeping ur voice down. His thrusts purposely getting faster, just to hear ur whimpers slipping out. “Keep your voice down.” He whispers, making it so hard for u intensionally, “you want them to hear you, don’t you?”

His dirty talk half of the time is him begging and praising u, even when he's the one in control. “look at u. taking me so good. shit—dont stop, baby, don't stop, right there—“

he loves eye contact. like loves it. hand wrapped around ur throat, thumb brushing ur jaw, and he's staring straight into ur soul while he fucks into u slow. “Your eyes so pretty. Don’t look away. Good girl.”

He has a habit of manhandling you, especially after he came back from the military, taehyung won’t sit u down. flipping you onto your stomach or pulling you across the bed by your hips without warning, just to see you gasp.

Taehyung finds a strange, erotic pleasure in slapping ur face—not to hurt u, but to shock u—and the second he does, he leans in with that boxy, devastating smile, watching ur eyes glaze over.

When he’s really lost in it his accent slips heavier, words coming out breathy and broken as he tells you how perfect you feel.

He will teach u dirty talk in his language, and when u accidentally slip a word during sex, he will fucking lose it.

Cockwarming. Ofc.

He is obsessed with your expressions; if u smile at him while he’s fucking u hard, he goes feral. thrusting deeper and faster bcuz ur smile is his biggest turn-on.

he whimpers. lowkey his biggest tell. when he's close, when u do something that hits just right, that deep little sound escapes and he hates how much it gives him away. so he'll try to cover it by kissing u harder.

hair pulling. his hair, not urs. he loves when u grab a fistful of it while he's going down on u. groans against u and it sends vibrations through ur whole body.

he's loud. not like screaming but constant. moans, groans, murmured praises, broken sentences. “baby—fuck—please—“ like he cant help it. like it's all spilling out of him.

he laughs during sex. like genuinely laughs. if something funny happens, if one of u trips over clothes, if a joke slips out — he'll throw his head back and laugh, still inside u, and then kiss u while he's still smiling. it's the most disarming thing.

he likes when u sit on his lap facing him. not just for sex — for making out, for talking, for existing together. but when it does lead to sex, he loves the closeness. foreheads pressed together, breathing each other's air, slow and deep.

He got a sex tape of u. Always makes u take sexy poses naked and keep it in his folder. It’s sometimes not even in sexual way, he genuinely gets mesmerized by ur body and how u make every pic/vid look so good.

he says ur name. a lot. He whispers it, groans it, breathes it, moan it. It makes u go crazy.

he makes u cum first. always. always. it's not negotiable. making u cum multiple times, u hardly remember where u had only one orgasm with him, it’s always multiple. And he will edge himself for ages until ure exhausted, fast asleep and satisfied. ㅤ♡ྀི

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A/N: this is for my taehyung girlies on my inbox💞 hope it was to ur expectations, and dw! Im currently writing a one shot for taetae so stay tuned! Im not done with him yet 😋

[holybibly]

𝔐𝔞𝔤𝔦𝔠 𝔗𝔬𝔲𝔠𝔥 | Yunxo x reader

♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Dirty Masseur Yunho х reader ♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: A simple recommendation leads you to a private spa and into the hands of Yunho — a therapist whose presence is as captivating as his massage technique. Under his skilled and attentive touch, you find yourself melting in ways you never expected. What starts as a much-needed escape from stress slowly becomes something deeper, hotter and much more pleasant than a simple massage session. ♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: smut, Office!AU, Private Spa!AU, Non-Idol AU ♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI ♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 8.2k ♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: Dom Yunho/ sub reader, hands and fingers kink, erotic massage, groping. finger sucking, fingering, pet names, dirty talk, orgasm delay, pussy slapping, spit kink, overstimulation, praise kink, squirt, wet and dirty, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more. ♡ net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity ♡ 𝔄|𝔑: This idea has been on my mind for quite some time, and now I've finally managed to put it into something more or less enjoyable. Although, for this, I have to thank my wonderful bunnies, who steered me in the right direction. Either way, you're in for the best massage of your life, bunnies, especially under Yunho's warm and skillful touch, which will give you a truly happy ending. Oh, and by the way, in our beautiful bunny kingdom there are already 7k (actually 7.3k, but I always skip pretty numbers) baby bunnies, so consider this your little gift ✨ ♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post. ♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more 𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉 - Your love makes all this possible

Last week at the office had been nothing short of hell, and at some point it had even seemed to you that it would never end. The amount of paperwork you had to deal with kept growing, piling up on your desk like dirty dishes in a sink, while deadlines loomed closer with every passing day. And as if that weren’t enough, the new intern had managed to ruin a couple of important documents, forcing you to spend extra hours writing explanatory letters and trying to salvage what could still be saved. All of this required more effort and patience than you had to give, liters of coffee, and what felt like almost a year’s supply of your nerve cells, which decided to leave the chat without explanation. On top of it all, the quarterly report hung over your head like an ominous storm cloud, refusing to be ignored no matter how many times you tried to shove it to the back of your mind.

Your working days gradually bled into long, tiring evenings spent staring at the cold glow of your computer screen in a dark, empty office. At the same time your body was desperately resisting such a  tough schedule, answering with a dull, persistent ache that had settled deep into your muscles and refused to ease, while your lower back had grown so stiff from hours of sitting motionless that even the simple act of straightening up felt like a small, hard-won victory.

By the time you finally made it home, you felt completely exhausted, moving through the apartment on autopilot — keys dropped onto the counter, shoes kicked off without care, the dull stiffness in your lower back flaring sharply with every step toward the bedroom. You barely had the energy to undress properly before slipping under the duvet, hoping that sleep would come quickly and mercifully. 

Yet even as your body began to loosen, sinking into the softness of the mattress, something else stirred beneath the fatigue. A restless, low-burning awareness of the long drought you had pushed aside for days had begun to make itself known again, rising slowly through your body as an unsatisfied heat that lingered low in your belly, warm and  insistent. The quick, hardly enjoyable release you allowed yourself all this time did almost nothing to quiet the restless heat of arousal, leaving you more frustrated than before. 

You woke each morning even more drained than the day before, still carrying both the bone-deep fatigue and that low, nagging ache that refused to leave you in peace no matter how you tried to push them down.

As the most frantic period finally begins to ease, your schedule gradually returns to something closer to normal. However, the damage had already been done. The deep fatigue and that low, nagging ache had settled into your body like something permanent, following you into every moment until you could no longer remember what it felt like to wake up without it.

It was during lunch one day, when the accumulated strain had finally caught up with you and the stiffness in your body had become impossible to ignore, that you told your close colleague how exhausted the last week had left you and how much your back was killing you. 

Gayoung listened to you intently, nodding her head quietly in sympathy when you mentioned your aching lower back and how your bum had literally gone numb from sitting for so long.

"You know, I think you should try a massage. Something deep and gentle that'll definitely help you relax," she said, leaning in a little closer. "There's this place I go to regularly when the pressure gets too much. It's nothing special, in fact, you've probably never even heard of it, but the therapists there are amazing." A small, meaningful smile played on her lips, as she added. “Ask for Yunho. He’s very good with his hands.” 

Jeong Yunho was not at all what you expected when you arrived for your scheduled massage at the spa Gayoung had recommended. He met you at the entrance — tall and broad-shouldered, with a head of tousled black hair that gleamed with quiet richness beneath the soft golden lighting of the lobby, looking more like a model than a mere masseur.

The moment he turned toward you, his face lit up with a bright, boyish smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He radiated a warmth and light disarming charm that immediately put you at ease; yet beneath it all lay something else — a quiet but palpable air of dominance that made it unmistakably clear you were in the presence of a mature, self-assured man, not a boy. His dark eyes slowly glided over your body, lingering with quiet intent as though he could already see every taut muscle and hidden knot of tension crying out for relaxation. His assessment of you was neither hurried nor rushed, but rather calm and deliberate, sending a small, involuntary shiver through you even before he had spoken a single word.

His attentive gaze lingered on you for a moment longer before he dipped his head in a small, polite bow. “Hi.” He said, voice warm and pleasantly soft, yet carrying an unexpected depth that felt almost seductive. “I’m Yunho, your therapist for today. It’s a pleasure to meet you.”

You managed only a mumbled reply, still slightly dazed by the unexpected beauty of his features. He noticed your reaction but didn’t comment, long accustomed to such things, though the corner of his lips lifted in a faint, knowing smirk. 

“This way.” Yunho stepped aside and with a small, graceful gesture, motioned down the softly lit corridor.

He noticed right away, slowed down without saying anything and looked back at you. When Yunho saw your condition, his expression softened into something quietly understanding.

“Long week?” His voice was soft and warm as he inquired.

"You have no idea." You murmured, your voice was quiet and laced with weariness.  'It was relentless, to put it mildly."

Yunho’s gaze stayed on you a moment longer, his eyes tracing the clear marks of severe fatigue and exhaustion on your face. He found himself thinking how out of place such weariness looked on someone as lovely as you. When he spoke, his voice was low and even, wrapping around you with a calm steadiness that felt almost intimate in the dim light of the empty corridor.

“Don’t worry.” With a gentle pressure, Yunho guided you forward, his large palm resting warmly against your lower back. With every step, his hand shifted slightly, the steady warmth of his palm sending a faint trail of goosebumps rising along your spine. The touch was innocent enough on the surface, yet impossible to ignore.“I’ll look after you tonight. Just relax and let me take care of everything.”

The private suite was peaceful and golden. Warm muted light that spilled from recessed coves along the ceiling and the upper edges of the textured walls bathed everything in a soft, honeyed glow that made the room feel smaller and far more intimate than a typical spa suite which you’ve been to before.

A large ceiling fan turned slowly overhead, its quiet blades stirring the air just enough to carry the rich scent of melting wax mingled with something darker and sweeter like sandalwood and amber.

.

On the low wooden side tables stood clusters of thick candles and smouldering incense, their flickering flames reflected in the glossy, dark surface of the heated massage table. Crystal bottles filled with fragrant oils and creams were arranged neatly beside them, their presence somehow making the space feel less clinical and more sensual. The linens on the table were deep charcoal, heavy and soft, the kind of fabric that seemed more fitting for tangled sheets and passionate caresses than for a simple massage. 

All in all, the entire space exuded a sense of quiet luxury — peaceful yet charged — as though it had been designed for deep, absolute relaxation in more ways than one.

“You can leave your things behind the screen,” Yunho said, offering you a small, gentle smile. “Then lie face down on the table and make yourself comfortable. I’ll return once you’re ready.” With a polite bow, he stepped out and quietly closed the door behind him, leaving you alone in the softly lit suite.

You undressed slowly, neatly folding each piece of clothing with care before placing it behind the screen and returning to the table. The heated surface of the table pleasantly warmed your bare skin as you settled onto your stomach, just as Yunho had instructed. Lying face down and completely naked beneath the sheet, you remained still for a moment, suddenly aware of how vulnerable you felt. 

The intimate atmosphere of the room only deepened the sensation. The soft weight of the linen against your bare skin, the faint scent of oil and melting wax lingering in the air, and the quiet knowledge that Yunho would soon return — all of it made you feel more exposed, more aware of your own nakedness beneath the thin sheet. 

The thought of his large hands moving over your body with nothing between you stirred something deeper, a slow, insistent warmth beginning to gather low in your stomach that had nothing to do with simple relaxation.

A few moments later, the soft click of the door opening reached your ears, followed by Yunho’s low voice.

“Are you ready?”

“Yes.” You answered, your voice slightly muffled against the table. “You can come in.”

“Perfect.” He stepped inside and closed the door behind him with quiet care. 

You couldn’t see him, but you could hear the soft sounds of movement — the faint clink of glass bottles, the rustle of fabric, and the subtle shift of his presence as he prepared what he needed. After a moment, he spoke again, his voice calm and reassuring as he rested one warm hand lightly on your shoulder.

“I’ll begin now. Try to relax as much as you can. If anything feels uncomfortable or painful at any point, just tell me, alright? I want you to feel completely at ease while I’m working on you.”

“Yes,” you murmured. “I will.”

The soft click of the oil bottle was followed by the slow, viscous sound of warmed liquid being poured. A faint shiver ran through you as the first hot drops landed on your skin, before a thin, steady stream began to spill across your back and trail down the length of your spine. It gathered briefly in the small hollows of your lower back before continuing its slow descent, leaving a warm, glistening path in its wake. The rich, herbal scent of the oil rose to meet the deeper, earthier notes of sandalwood already lingering in the air, wrapping around you in a heady, sensual haze.

The sensation felt strangely intimate. The heated oil slid over your bare skin in a slow, deliberate caress, heightening every small sensation until every inch of you felt more sensitive, more responsive. It was as though the oil itself was coaxing you open — easing not only the tightness in your muscles, but the deeper, heavier tension you had been carrying for far too long.

Then his hands touched you. They were large and strong, the palms broad and the fingers long and slender, with prominent knuckles and veins that stood out beneath his pale skin. You couldn’t stop the thought from rising — how those same long, graceful fingers might feel if they moved lower, slipping between your legs and sinking deep inside you exactly where you needed them most. You tried to push the image away almost as quickly as it had appeared, reminding yourself that this was neither the time nor the place for such thoughts. Still, the idea lingered stubbornly at the edge of your mind, refusing to disappear completely.

Yunho’s hands moved over your back in slow, confident strokes, spreading the warmed oil across your skin until it glistened beneath his palms. The oil made everything slick and smooth, allowing him to glide effortlessly over your bare skin as he worked the liquid deep into your flesh with firm, steady pressure. He began at your shoulders, his thumbs sinking into the tight knots with deliberate care, and despite yourself, a soft, broken sound slipped from your parted lips as the sensation melted through you.

He paused for a moment, his hands coming to rest on your softly oiled skin. 

“Is this too much?”  Yunho asked in a low, gentle voice. 'I heard you make a sound just now...I want to make sure you're comfortable.”

“No, it’s fine.” You murmured, shook your head slightly against the table. “Everything’s alright, really.  It’s just… I knew my muscles were tense, but I didn’t realise it was this bad.”

'Mmm...' A quiet, understanding hum escaped him. “That happens more often than you’d think.” Yunho pointed out. “A lot of people don’t notice how tightly they’re holding themselves until someone else touches them.” 

Although his words sounded innocent enough, there was a quiet ambiguity beneath them, as though he wasn’t only speaking about the massage, but about another kind of touch entirely — one far more sexual. You turned a little red at the thought and quickly buried your face in the headrest again, trying not to dwell on it as Yunho returned to his work.

His hands began to move again, and this time they felt even hotter against your skin than before. Instead of the focused, targeted pressure from before, Yunho switched to long, sweeping strokes, using the full weight of his palms as they glided in slow, rhythmic waves from the base of your neck down to the middle of your back. The motion was deeper and more encompassing, as though he were trying to soothe your entire body at once rather than chasing individual knots.  Every glide was made effortless by the oil, with his skin sliding over yours in a way that felt almost hypnotic.

The relief came quickly, sinking deep into your muscles. You felt the week’s tension begin to dissolve beneath his magical touch, knots you hadn’t even realised were there slowly unravelling with each careful pass of his fingers. Every time Yunho found a particularly stubborn spot and pressed into it, your body gave a little more, surrendering another layer of stiffness you hadn’t known you were carrying.

The pleasant warmth of the heated table beneath you, the soft golden light filling the room, and the low, steady crackle of the candles all seemed to work in harmony with the slow motion of his elegant hands and his soothing presence, gently pulling you deeper into a state of heavy, luxurious relaxation. Your breathing slowed, your body growing heavier against the linen as the last remnants of tension melted away beneath his caressing touches.

Yunho continued working in silence for a while, letting the steady rhythm of his hands speak for him. At some point, his soft voice joined the quiet atmosphere of the room, pleasantly breaking the silence that had settled between you. He casually asked about your week, and when you offered a tired reply, he responded with a soft remark about how demanding office work could be — how it often left people carrying tension in places they didn’t even realise. The comment was light, but it carried the necessary understanding that made you feel seen. Whilst you were chatting, his long, strong fingers never ceased their movement, continuing their careful exploration as they traced the ridges of tension along your spine and the tight bands across your shoulder blades with focus.

Nevertheless, all the while, behind that professional and charming exterior, Yunho’s thoughts were far from innocent. 

He was enjoying this almost as much as you were — if not more. He couldn’t deny that, to him, you looked incredibly tempting like that, completely relaxed and defenceless beneath his touch. Your body was so soft and pliant in all the right places, warm and lightly glistening from the oil he had worked so thoroughly into your skin, and every quiet, sweet little moan that slipped from your lips whenever his fingers found a stubborn knot only deepened the heat simmering low in his stomach. 

Yunho knew he easily could draw even sweeter sounds from you, especially if his thick cock was buried deep inside that tight, plump pussy of yours. A pussy he suspected had been unfairly neglected, judging by the way you unconsciously clenched your thighs every time his hands slid lower, dangerously nearing to the edge of the sheet.

After a while, a low, almost unconscious hum began to rise from Yunho’s chest, a quiet sound of deep satisfaction that matched the unhurried rhythm of his strokes. The viscous consistency of the essential oil made everything slick and slippery; you could hear the wet, softly sloppy sound of his large palms gliding over your heated skin with every movement, the noise almost indecent in the soothing stillness of the room. 

The more he touched you, the more aware Yunho became of your body's response to him: the subtle shifts of your hips, your heavier breathing and your faint moans, which grew louder as you sank deeper into the haze of pleasure and the tension finally left you. It was becoming harder for him to keep his thoughts purely professional, and the low hum in his chest deepened slightly as his hands continued their slow, deliberate work.

As his hands travelled lower, smoothing the oil along your lower back, he eventually reached the edge of the sheet covering your buttocks and paused. 

“I’d like to work a little lower.” Yunho’s voice remained gentle and polite when he spoke, though there was a subtle shift in its tone — a barely perceptible hoarseness that hadn’t been there before. “Is it alright if I move the sheet down just a bit?” The tips of his long fingers resting lightly at the edge of the fabric. 

You made a small, drowsy sound of agreement, too relaxed to form proper words and too far gone in pleasure to fully grasp the weight of what you were allowing. You didn't think twice about what it might mean to let him see more of your body, because you simply wanted to let these magnificent, talented hands continue to touch you.

He slowly folded the sheet down, as if to give you time to change your mind, before exposing the plump upper curve of your buttocks to the warm air and his dark, hungry gaze. A fresh, generous stream of essential oil was poured over your skin, thick and glistening as it spilled across the roundness of your ass. His large hands followed at once, smearing the warm, viscous liquid over your flesh before sinking his fingers into the soft, supple curves with a pressure that was just a little firmer than necessary.

You hardly noticed the shift in intensity. The relief moved through you in slow, luxurious waves as he kneaded the firm muscle with focused dedication, his palms gliding and pressing in deep, rhythmic motions. Your body felt heavier now, more pliant, the last remnants of rigid tension melting away beneath Yunho’s touch as if by magic, leaving you soft and yielding under his hands.

As Yunho’s hands travelled lower, the conversation between you began to shift as well. His questions grew more personal, each one well-thought-out and laced with a certain undercurrent that made them feel heavier and  intimate than before. You answered them almost without thinking, offering him whatever he seemed to want while your mind remained soft and hazy, lulled by the steady rhythm of his touch and the slow, pleasant warmth spreading through your body.

When his fingers pressed especially deep into a particularly sensitive spot on your lower back, a low, helpless moan of pure pleasure slipped from your lips before you could stop it. A rush of unexpected heat bloomed through your body, and you felt a slow trickle of mucus spill from your little hole as your pussy clenched around nothing. It was so embarrassing, your  body was betraying you in the most undeniable way, and there was little you could do with it. Instinctively, you tried to press your thighs together in a futile attempt to ease the growing tension between your legs, but the movement only made the slickness between them more noticeable.  

Yunho noticed the changes in your condition right away. He repeated the movement with the same deliberate pressure, his thumbs sinking firmly into the small of your back just above the swell of your ass.

“Does it hurt here?” His voice was low and smooth as warm honey as he spoke, the sound wrapping around you while his oil-slick fingers parted slightly as they glided with unhurried precision over the soft, full curve of one cheek and then the next. “Or here?”

“No…” Your reply came as a soft, awkward murmur, as you slightly  shifted beneath his hands. “It doesn’t hurt. It’s just… a little more sensitive there, I think.” Your voice betrayed you by coming out softer and more uncertain than you had meant.

He didn’t respond right away. The corner of his mouth curved into a slow, knowing smile as he continued his unhurried kneading, his touch never faltering. He knew exactly what kind of sensitivity he was coaxing from your body, but for now, he allowed you the fragile excuse, his large hands moving over your skin with the same steady, patient care.

Yunho’s gentle hands continued their unhurried descent, his large, warm palms gliding over the backs of your thighs in slow, deliberate strokes. Without asking, he eased them apart a little wider so he could reach the tight muscles of your inner thigh, the movement quiet yet unmistakably intentional, as though he were testing the limits of what you would allow. 

A faint flicker of self-consciousness stirred within you as your body was opened beneath his hands with such ease, and though you tried to remain still, your muscles tensed involuntarily at the sudden vulnerability of the position.

Yunho noticed this subtle shift in you, but he didn’t stop. His touch lighter for a moment, giving you time to settle and get used to it, before he poured another generous amount of warm oil and continued. 

At some point the sheet had slipped away without you noticing, leaving you completely bare beneath his hands. Yunho’s gaze unabashedly lingered openly now, taking in the sight of your naked body and the soft, seductive curves of your figure. From where he stood, he could see the faint, glistening hint of your swollen pussy, already slick and shining with your arousal.

He poured more fragrant oil directly between your legs this time, letting the warm liquid spill thickly over your pretty pussy and coat your plump labia and delicate folds in a glistening layer. The sight of it made his jaw tighten and though he tried to keep his breathing even, you could hear a barely audible, raspy groan as his cock twitched visibly against the front of his trousers.

His hands continued their slow ascent along the backs of your thighs, each stroke gliding higher than the last. The oil made his touch impossibly smooth, and with every upward pass, you became more aware of your own body — of how deeply the relaxation had settled into you, leaving you sensitive in a way that felt almost unbearable. A deep, insistent warmth had begun to gather low in your belly, and with each brush of his fingers, your skin seemed to flush hotter,  sensitive.

Between your legs, a slick, liquid heat was steadily gathering, growing more insistent the closer his hands came. When his fingertips finally brushed the delicate fold where your inner thigh met the edge of your pussy — just the lightest, most deliberate graze through the warm oil — a soft, broken sound slipped from your throat before you could stop it.

One of Yunho’s hands came to rest on the back of your thigh, his long fingers tracing the same path once more, slower this time, as though deliberately testing the limits of your restraint. He could feel the way your body twitched beneath his touch, the heat radiating between your legs growing more pronounced with every passing second. Though his voice remained soft, still wrapped in that warm, boyish tone, something darker had begun to stir beneath it — a low, velvet hunger that made the air between you feel heavier, more charged.

“You’re holding so much tension here too.” He whispered, the calloused pad of his finger resting lightly against that sensitive place. “Right here.” His thumb stroked once, slow and deliberate, over the slick, swollen flesh between your legs. “Would you like me to go deeper?”

A part of you wondered, fleetingly, what the consequences of this moment might be — whether crossing this line would change something between you. But the thought was fleeting, pale in comparison to the raw, aching need that had been building inside you for far too long. Your pussy was so eager, so desperately empty after weeks without being properly filled, that any lingering doubts dissolved beneath the heat of your own desire.

When you didn’t pull away — when your only response was a shaky exhale and the helpless clench of your thighs — something in Yunho settled. The boyish smile faded into something darker, hungrier. His free hand came to rest between your shoulder blades, broad and heavy, pinning you gently but firmly to the table as though he had no intention of letting you escape what was coming.

“I know techniques that reach places most people never touch.” He said, his voice lower now, darker. “Inside. Where you’re really aching.” His thumb brushed over you again, slower this time, the pressure just firm enough to make your breath catch. “No pressure. But I think you need it tonight. I think you need someone to take care of this properly.”

Your hesitant, breathless “yes” was the only answer he needed.

The moment the word left your lips, something in Yunho shifted. The last traces of politeness and professionalism fell away like silk slipping from skin.

His hand pressed more firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you pinned exactly where he wanted you. With his other hand, Yunho poured a fresh, generous stream of warm, fragrant oil directly onto the curvaceous curve of your ass, letting the thick, glistening liquid spill slowly between your cheeks and over your cunt. 

It flowed in warm rivulets, coating your already slick folds and clinging to the peachy, soft halves of your cunt before dripping in slow, heavy drops onto the heated table beneath you. The sound was wet and completely shameless in the stillness of the room.

“Stay just like this for me, pretty.” He said, his voice lower now, rougher, the dominance no longer hidden. His large hand moved over your skin in slow, possessive strokes, spreading the oil as his fingers parted you without hesitation. “Let me take care of you the way you need.”

The sheet had long since been discarded on the floor, and you lay face-down on the heated table, completely naked, your legs parted just enough for Yunho to see everything. He stood behind you, tall and broad, devastatingly handsome in the golden light, his gaze dark with unrestrained hunger as he took in the sight now fully bared before him. Your body lay open and glistening, your delicate folds parted and slick with oil and arousal, the soft, flushed flesh of your pussy on full display in the most lewd and inviting way.

“You’re shaking already, princess.” Yunho dragging two long fingers slowly through your slick labia. “And I haven’t even started the real massage yet.”

His hand — large enough to cover your entire cunt— slid between your thighs from behind and pressing it possessively right against your soft little mound.. He didn’t move at first. Yunho simply held you there, his palm cupping your swollen pussy while his long fingers curled over your plump, soft labia, all smooth and slippery with oil, feeling how hot and wet you already were. 

Then he began to grope you in earnest. He squeezed gently at first, rolling your puffy outer lips between his elegant fingers, massaging them slowly, almost thoughtfully, as though he were learning the shape of your cunt. His palm ground in lazy circles against your clit while his fingers spread and squeezed your labia, tugging them lightly, feeling how soft and slick they were. Every so often he would deliver a light, wet slap to your crotch, the sound filthy and sharp, making your flesh jiggle and sending sparks of pleasure shooting through you.

The sight of your glistening folds, now even more swollen and slick from his touch, seemed to stir something rough in him. Yunho’s breathing grew heavier as he spread your ass cheeks apart with both hands, opening you completely for his gaze. 

“Look at these pretty little holes.” A low, appreciative sound rumbled in his chest. “So tiny and tight… it’s almost a shame they’ve been left empty for so long. But don’t worry, baby. I’m going to take such good care of both of them.” He spat directly onto your pussy, purring contentedly, seeing the warm saliva mixing with the oil and your own wetness, making everything even messier. 

His fingers returned at once, spreading the mess over your folds. You gasped, your back arching as he pressed them against your clit and stroking it with devastating precision.

“That’s it, good girl.” He praised, his voice low and filthy. “Spread those pretty legs a little more for me. Let me feel how badly this sweet little pussy needed to be fucked.”

You moaned helplessly, your hips twitching as you gave in to his touch, your body melting under the overwhelming sensation of being so thoroughly handled. 

“Fuck… this is exactly the kind of pussy I like.” Yunho groaned, his voice thick and low with unrestrained arousal. “So plump and swollen already… so fucking slippery. Look at how it’s dripping down my hand, baby. You’re making such a mess for me.” He kept you pinned beneath his hand, completely at his mercy, while his fingers worked over your cunt with slow, deliberate greed. 

Yunho squeezed and massaged your soft, puffy lips between his long fingers for some time longer, before spreading them open only to watch your empty hole flutter and clench around nothing. 

You couldn’t help but give in. A soft, broken moan slipped from your lips as your thighs parted a little wider of their own accord, your body surrendering to the filthy pleasure of his touch. Yunho noticed immediately. A dark, satisfied smile curved his lips as he slipped his hand beneath your hips and lifted them slightly, angling you higher, presenting your dripping cunt to him like a sweet offering.

The very next moment, two long, slender fingers pushed between your folds and sank deep into you in one smooth, merciless thrust. Yunho groaned at the way your walls gripped him so tightly, immediately curling his fingers hard against that sensitive spot inside you while his palm ground down against your swollen clit. 

He fucked you with expert precision — deep, steady thrusts that dragged along every sensitive inch of your walls, mixed with slow, grinding circles that made your breath hitch. Every time he pulled back, he spread his fingers just enough to stretch you open before sinking back in.

“You’re so fucking dirty for me already.” He rasped, his voice rough with lust. “Dripping all over my hand like a desperate little slut… and I like it even dirtier, baby. I want this pretty cunt messy and loud for me.”

He pulled his fingers out just long enough to spit directly onto your pretty, slutty pussy again, before he shoved three fingers back inside you. This time he fucked you harder, faster, his wrist twisting with every thrust so his knuckles dragged deliciously against your velvety walls. His thumb rubbed merciless, tight circles over your throbbing clit, and with his other hand he pressed firmly against your lower stomach, making sure you felt every deep, filthy stroke inside you.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, your hips rolling back shamelessly to meet every thrust of his hand. The heat in your belly coiled tighter and tighter, your thighs beginning to tremble as your orgasm built with dizzying speed. 

Just as you were about to fall over the edge, Yunho suddenly pulled his fingers out of you.

“Oh, no… please…” You were weeping loudly at the sudden emptiness, but Yunho gave you no time to protest. His hands were already moving, flipping you onto your back with effortless strength. Before you could catch your breath, he caught your legs and pushed them up toward your chest, folding you nearly in half and spreading you wide open for him.

“There we go.” He breathed, his eyes dark and hungry as they dragged over your glistening, oiled pussy. “Now I can really see what I’m working with.” His fingers returned to you at once, sliding slowly over your fluttering folds, teasingly parting your labia with the tips of his fingers.

“This is much better, isn’t it?”  The touch was lighter now, almost lazy, but no less devastating in its precision. “Now I can reach so much deeper… and I can be far more thorough with you.” His voice low and rough with arousal as he looked down at you, with obvious pleasure watching as thick, sticky strands of your mucus, mixed with his saliva and essential oil, stretch from his fingers to your plump snatch as he pulls it away from you.

He proved it immediately.

His skilful fingers pushed back inside you, and from this new position — with your legs folded up and spread wide — the angle was devastatingly different. 

He curled them hard against your front thin wall from the very first thrust, dragging over that sensitive spot with deliberate, merciless precision. His palm stayed pressed firmly against your swollen clit, grinding in slow, heavy circles while his fingers fucked into you deep and steady. 

The new angle made everything feel unbearably intense, overwhelming in the most exquisite way. He could reach places he hadn’t been able to before, and he took full advantage of it — alternating between deep, punishing thrusts and slower, grinding movements that made your toes curl and your breath hitch. Your moans grew louder, more broken, your body trembling in his hold. 

Sometimes he would pull his fingers almost all the way out, caressing the soft, stretched rim of your tiny hole with his calloused fingertips, only to push them back in with a sharp, wet, slurping sound that made your face burn with shame and arousal all at once.

‘I'm close...’ You could feel your orgasm building again, faster this time, the heat coiling tighter and tighter in your belly. 

Your thighs began to tremble in his grip, your walls fluttering desperately around his fingers as you teetered on the edge.

This time, Yunho didn’t stop.

The orgasm crashed over you hard, stealing the breath from your lungs. Your vision blurred at the edges as wave after wave of pleasure tore through you like an avalanche, your body seizing and shaking beneath him. 

You barely registered the broken, sobbing moans spilling from your lips, too lost in the overwhelming rush. He fucked you straight through it — fingers pounding into you at a relentless pace, his thumb rubbing your clit in tight, merciless circles, dragging every last tremor of pleasure from your overstimulated body.

But even after your trembling began to subside, his fingers didn’t leave you.

 “It’s too much…” You whined, overstimulated and trembling, instinctively trying to squirm away from his hand. “Yunho, I...I can’t…” You gasped, your voice soft and shaky. 

Yunho only pressed his large, hot palm more firmly against your lower stomach, pinning you down with effortless strength, keeping you exactly where he wanted you.

“Still not.” Yunho growled, his voice dark and thick with hunger as he drove his fingers back into you at a wild, punishing pace.

You cried out, the pleasure bordering on unbearable, your body jerking helplessly beneath him. 

Another orgasm rose far too quickly, your walls clenching desperately around his fingers as the heat inside you coiled tighter and tighter. This time it hit differently — deeper, more violent. Your back arched sharply as you came again, and this time you squirted hard, a powerful rush of wetness spilling out around his fingers, soaking his hand and the table beneath you in a hot, shameless flood.

Yunho let out a guttural, drawn-out moan at the sight, the sound low and primal, as though it had been torn from deep within his chest.

“Here we go, baby. ” He rasped, pulling his fingers out only to rub them rapidly over your pulsing clit and sand overly sensitive folds, splashing liquid everywhere as you kept squirting. “Fuck, that’s it… look at you, making such a pretty mess for me.”

When your body finally stopped trembling, he slowly removed his fingers, glistening with your release. His dark eyes dragged over your wrecked form as he brought those same fingers up to your parted lips, brushing them teasingly across your mouth before sliding them inside, letting you taste yourself on his skin.

“We still have forty minutes left before the end of the session, darling.” His cock, rock-hard and straining against his trousers, pressed heavily against your cheek as he rocked his hips forward. “So… what do you want next?”

He pulled his fingers from your mouth, letting them trail down your throat before sliding them back between your legs, lazily pushing it inside your used cunt.

“Should we keep going right here?” He asked casually, fucking you with slow, shallow thrusts. “Or maybe… here?” Yunho withdrew his fingers again and pressed the slick tips against your delicate, unspoilt asshole instead, rubbing slow, deliberate circles around the tight ring of muscle. “I can be so gentle…” he murmured, voice dropping lower, “or I can finger this tight little ass so deep you’ll feel it for days.”

He brought his dripping fingers back up to your lips once more, pushing them into your mouth so you could clear up the mess you made, while at the same time rocking his hips forward, letting you feel the full, heavy length of his huge cock pressed against your cheek.

“Or maybe...” He continued, voice low and filthy/ “I should massage that pretty throat after all that moaning… help you relax it from the inside with something hot, thick, and much bigger than my fingers.”

You moaned around his fingers, overwhelmed and desperate, your thighs twitching as you instinctively tried to press them closer together. But there was only one answer that truly made your body ache.

“In my pussy.” You breathed when he pulled his fingers from your mouth, your voice hoarse and needy. “I want you in my pussy.”

“That’s a good girl.” Yunho praised, his voice low and rough with approval.

Yunho climbed onto the table with effortless grace, settling between your spread thighs. His hands moved to his waistband, and he pushed his pants down just far enough to free his hard cock and the sight of it made your breath catch in your throat.

He was thick, far thicker than you had expected — with a heavy, flushed shaft that curved slightly upward in a way that promised ruin. The broad head was flushed a deep, angry red, already glistening with precum that slowly gathered at the tip before dripping down the thick length. Prominent veins pulsed along his cock, standing out starkly against the flushed skin, and below hung a pair of full, heavy balls, drawn up tight with arousal. The sheer size of him made your stomach tighten with a dizzying mix of nerves and desperate, aching want.

Yunho wrapped one large hand around his cock and began stroking himself slowly, deliberately, spreading the precum along his length until it shone wetly in the golden light. His eyes stayed locked on your exposed pussy, dark with hunger, as though he was already imagining how perfectly it would stretch around him.

He leaned in closer and dragged the thick head of his cock through your slick folds — once, twice, then again and again. Each heavy slap against your plump flesh sent wet, filthy sounds echoing through the room. He teased you mercilessly, letting the fat head catch against your swollen and still extremely sensitive clit before slapping it down again, watching with dark satisfaction as your body jerked with every impact.

“Look at you.” His soft voice was thick with lust now.  “Twitching like a desperate little thing every time I slap this pretty pussy with my big cock. You want it that badly already, princess? Do you want to see how far I’ll stretch this tiny, tight fuckhole until it swallows me whole?”

He slid the head between your labia once more, this time holding it there, rocking it slowly against your clit without pushing inside. With his other hand, he used two fingers to squeeze your outer lips together, making them plumper so they licked the thick head lewdly with every movement. The sensation was obscene — your soft, slippery folds clinging to him with every slow, torturous drag, increasing stimulation.

Yunho kept teasing you like that, alternating between heavy slaps of his cock against your pussy and long, torturous strokes that never quite gave you what you needed. Your hips began to move on their own, chasing him, silently begging. You could feel how wet you were, how desperately your empty cunt fluttered around nothing, aching to be filled. 

"Please... I need this so much... I want your dick so bad..." A soft, broken moan slipped from your lips as you spread your legs a little wider, giving in to the need that had been burning inside you for far too long. "I'll be a good girl, I promise... You can use me however you want, just fuck me. Please..."

Only when your soft, desperate whimpers turned into broken pleas did Yunho finally give in.

He pressed the broad head of his cock against your entrance and began to push inside. Even after everything his fingers had done, the stretch was intense. A sharp sting accompanied the thick intrusion as your walls were forced to open around him, but the burn was quickly drowned beneath the overwhelming feeling of being filled. 

Yunho didn’t rush. He sank into you inch by inch, groaning low in his throat as your tight heat swallowed more of him. When he was finally buried to the hilt, he stayed there for a moment, letting you feel every thick, pulsing inch of him deep inside you. Its length was so huge, so thick, that the distinct outline of his massive cock was visible against your lower belly. 

Then he started to fuck you.

One of his large hands pressed firmly against your lower abdomen, holding you in place and pressing on the obvious bulge that appeared every time he entered you, while the other kneaded and squeezed your breast, fingers tugging at your sensitive nipple. 

He began with deep, rolling thrusts — long, deliberate strokes that made you feel every ridge and vein dragging along your walls. Gradually, he picked up the pace, his hips snapping forward harder, the wet sound of skin meeting skin filling the room as he fucked you with growing intensity.

Your moans grew louder, more desperate, your walls fluttering around his thick cock as another orgasm began to build fast. Just as you were about to tip over the edge, Yunho’s voice cut through the haze, low and commanding.

“Not yet.” He ordered, voice strained but firm. “Hold it. Don't you fucking dare cum without me.” Yunho kept fucking you through the agonizing edge, slowing his thrusts just enough to keep you trembling on the brink without letting you fall. His movements grew deeper, more punishing, his hand pressing firmly against your lower stomach so he could feel every thick inch of himself moving inside you. 

Only when your whole body was shaking and tears pricked at the corners of your eyes did he finally slide his hand down from your breast to your clit, rubbing you with merciless precision.

You came with a broken cry, your entire body seizing up as the orgasm crashed over you in violent, overwhelming waves. Your back arched sharply, your walls clamping down around him in rhythmic, desperate spasms as pleasure tore through you with almost brutal intensity. 

Yunho groaned deeply, the sound low and guttural, raw with pleasure as your cunt milked him through your climax. He kept thrusting, fucking you straight through it, and only moments later he followed — burying himself to the hilt with a low, drawn-out moan as he spilled inside you in thick, heavy pulses. 

You could feel every hot spurt of his cum flooding your insides, so much that it began to leak out around his cock even before he was finished.

When he finally pulled out with a totally obscene, loud slurping, you were left trembling and boneless, your body still twitching from the force of your release. A thick, creamy load of his cum slowly spilled from your used, fluttering hole, trickling down between your cheeks in warm, glistening rivulets.

Yunho watched the sight for a moment, dark eyes heavy with satisfaction, before dragging two fingers through the sticky, viscous mess. He gathered the mixture of your release and his own before bringing them to his mouth, licking them clean with a low, pleased hum.

'Now that...' He said in a husky voice thick with lingering pleasure '...is what I call a really good massage.'

At the reception desk, Yunho casually leaned against the counter with that same warm, boyish smile he had greeted you with earlier, though now there was a darker, more satisfied glint in his eyes as he looked at you.

“So…” He began, tilting his head slightly, causing a few silky strands falling onto his face, giving him a more hot look. “...was everything to your liking? Do you feel better now?”

You paused for a moment, taking stock of your body. To your surprise, there was no trace of the aching stiffness or tension that had plagued you for days. Instead, there was only a deep, pleasant soreness — the kind that lingered after being thoroughly and expertly used. 

“More than.” A shy little laugh escaped you as you reached out and lightly swatted his arm.

Yunho’s grin widened, turning more confident, more knowing. 

“I’m glad.” He said, his voice dropping just a fraction. “You know, we have other ways to help you unwind too, if you’re ever interested. The sauna is particularly good after a massage… very relaxing.” He gestured casually toward the rest of the spa. “Next time...”

But before he could finish, the door to one of the other private rooms opened. Another therapist stepped out, followed by his client, and your gaze drifted toward him almost instinctively — and lingered.

He was absolutely stunning.

Where Yunho carried a bright, approachable charm, this man radiated something sharper, more dark and magnetic. His dark hair fell slightly over his face, framing sharp, expressive features and intense, alluring eyes that held a devilish mischief even in stillness. His build was lean but powerful, and the easy confidence in the way he moved made it impossible not to look. There was something almost feline about him — graceful and sensual, yet laced with an underlying dominance that made your stomach flutter.

Yunho followed your gaze and let out a low, amused chuckle. He tapped the counter lightly with his fingers, drawing your attention back to him. When you looked at him again, he was wearing a knowing smirk, the tip of his tongue briefly brushing over his lower lip.

“So then…” He said, his voice dropped several octaves, sounding more sultry and seductive. “...next time, we can try a different kind of massage. One I usually do together with San."

Heat rushed to your face so quickly you were sure it was visible. Still, despite the blush, you found yourself nodding.

“I’d like that.” You said, quieter now. “Can you… sign me up for another session?”

“Of course.” Yunho replied, his smirk softening into something warmer, though the dark glint in his eyes remained hinting at something a bit more naughty . “I’ll make sure to set something up for you.”

You left the spa a short while later, your body feeling lighter than it had in weeks or perhaps even months. There was still that deep, satisfying ache between your legs and in your muscles, but it no longer felt like exhaustion. It felt like a promise.

And as you stepped out into the evening air, you were already thinking about when you’d be coming back for the next session.

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part I @tiny-apocalypse @captain-joongz @alicedawitchbish @woohwababes @wlv-asteria @wisejudgedragonhairdo @mingisprincesss @lavishloving @teagietots @spooo00oky @sousydive @hwapou @bunnliix @softwsan @mjyungi @fantasy2wonderland @noirsfantasy @cassies-cookies @renaholicss @luffypants @hyukssunflower @watermelon2319 @peachygiku @bunnyxoxodarling @stolasisyourparent @soranosnowbunny @certifiedmoa @sanglix @slvtiny @hopefulrascalstatesmantoad @hecateslittlewitchling @xxawl @pastellbunno @starlletsblog @seonghwasstar @hwanring @vtyb23 @pearltinyy @minjaeum @chasevixx @bomi-ja @onedumbho3 @sanglix @cursedeastern @itza-meee @pinkies-things @atinism @mxnsxngie @nenefix-on @therealcuppicake @annafeebou @sharksandminhos @@lixies-pixieboy @@vampzity @0rangemilk @yellow-foxxing @claimmeyourprincess

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part II @unholywriters @hey-syia @hrts4nohee @vnessalau @mlink64 @tessakleine @fr34k4c1dr41n @313hwa @lilyuwon @tiziamattaga @un-knew @wiaxul @siyah-staryis @seonghwasbbgirl @mingisfavgf @bunnyluvr25 @roserperfume @lose-lose07 @variety-is-the-joy-of-life @lelaleleb @bubblebisk @silverlight-h @ chloe-elise-2000 @cookiesandcreammy @mxnsxngie @ghostlovesworld @i-love-ateez @mingisprincesss @vampscan @peachygiku @vampqueen777 @miyaluvvsyou @stay-tiny-things @moondanse94 @thyvessel

❣ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 ❣ Part III @yyaurii @infrenchexit @sanniesbum @jaxyy219 @lostxxgirl @m1sss1mp @manipulatedstars @cotton-candycloudz @kienhawon @flowerxsin @londonbridges01 @fluffyyongbokie @sang-09 @hobarihope @sanniesaur @luvbit3z @sanriomilk @s4erin @sanhwalvr @mallielovssyou @slytherinslays @your-bloodbag @cherricola-star @passionandsuga @hwasangel @yyaurii @nevermoreraven1 @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @unholywriters @mortal-advocate @heiswan @ninalove323 @freckl ypotato @staytinyluva @xcallmetaniax @julessworldduh @gayforbobandothers @jujusreader @onysmamas @lady-haitani @zzhengyu @scardorosht @lucyspage @vairytalier @fics-on9024

[mingislildevil]

I just know his back strokes be hittin real good 😩

[teezslvt]

𝐭𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐭 𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭

── ˚₊‧ 💋 ɞ₊‧˚ seonghwa x fem!reader ── mdni 𓆩♡𓆪 smut, established relationship, romance, angst, tension, hurt/comfort, fuckboy!hwa, kissing, oral sex (f receiving), fingering, teasing/edging, vaginal sex (unprotected), doggystyle, overstimulation, dirty talk, multiple orgasms ⸝⸝ᵕ ༯ᵕ⸝⸝ first, we fight, then we fuck and make up <3 ── word count: ³.¹ᵏ 👠 “Your boyfriend was watching himself fuck you—holy airball.”

A/N: wrote this cause I’ve been thirsting over seonghwa (ik big shocker there) but also been having a tougher time these days but doing my best to not be defeated or lose my passion and this just came to mind. sorry if it sucks, I just needed an outlet, so enjoy my cherries ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊ feedback is always welcomed!

“Ugh! Fuck you, Hwa!”

“I thought we were fighting. Now you wanna fuck?”

The smug grin spreading across his lips filled you with equal parts disgust and dread because you knew it was as easy as breathing for you to fall for his charms.

Not today.

“Keep it up,” you muttered, rolling your eyes as you turned away, “We’ll see who has the last laugh.”

Before you could make it two steps, his fingers wrapped gently around your wrist.

“Okay, okay.” His teasing melted away. “Don’t go. I don’t want to leave things like this.”

His expression softened, those big, warm brown eyes searching yours. Fuck! No! You glanced away before they could pull you in, looking anywhere else but at his face, blinking hard against the sting building behind your eyes.

“I’m tired of you embarrassing me and making me look like—”

Your voice caught.

“Like what?”

“Look like…some crazy bitch who’s desperate, obsessed, and head over heels for you.”

“..so you’re not head over heels for me?” There it was—that stupid grin again. You yanked your wrist from his hand.

“You think this is funny and it’s not.”

His smile faltered.

“Forget it.”

“No, wait.” He stepped forward. “What do you want me to say?”

His jaw tightened.

“She came on to me.”

“You allowed it! You went along with the whole thing—buying her drinks, dancing with her.” Crossing your arms over your chest, you sighed from exhaustion.

“Your friends continue to treat me as a joke because you do.”

“My friends are assholes, I can’t control how they act.”

His brows furrowed, his hand reaching out to touch you again but you stepped back to avoid it.

“Why is that my fault?”

“Because you never shut them down.”

You could barely look at him but you met his eyes, trying to calm down but the situation made you more upset than you’ve ever been before. This wasn’t the first fight, but it was the worst.

“You pick your friends and that says everything about you.”

Seonghwa flinched, the words paining him just as much as they pained you to say, but only half as much as his actions from the other night made you feel.

“I’m an asshole and I’m sorry. What can I do to make this right?”

It took everything out of you not to slap him, but you’d never lay a hand on Seonghwa. You couldn’t—wouldn’t. It wouldn’t solve anything regardless. It would only drive a final nail in the coffin of your relationship.

You were done with the argument.

You said everything there was to say.

“You can sleep on the couch. Goodnight.”

With that, you stormed off toward the bedroom, slamming the door shut behind you before he could say another word, sobbing into your hand.

Half expecting him to knock on the door, you’re pleased when he doesn’t. You fall face first into your pillow and cry to your broken heart’s content.

At some point, you must’ve cried yourself asleep. Your pillowcase, stained with tears and smudged mascara, was proof enough. You rolled over and your hand instinctively reached over to Seonghwa’s side of the bed, fisting the sheets. Why’d he have to be such a jerk?

Why’d you have to miss him? His touch? His warmth?

Even his snores soothed something inside you, and the empty space beside you left you restless. You squeezed your eyes shut, willing yourself back to sleep, but it never came.

Eventually, with sleep refusing to come, you pushed yourself out of bed. The first thing your hand grabbed was one of Seonghwa’s oversized t-shirts. You pulled it over your head, leaving your panties untouched, then quietly slipped out of the room.

The hum of commercials coming from the TV grew louder as you entered the living room, crossing over to the couch on the balls of your feet.

That’s when you saw him—

Hwa lay sprawled across the love seat, breathing softly as he slept on his back. The glow from the television washed over his face, softening every sharp angle. You bit your lower lip. His sweatpants had slipped low on his hips, the waistband of his boxer briefs peeking out beneath the hem of his shirt.

Damn him.

You stood over him and leaned down, tapping on his shoulder. He didn’t stir an inch. Rolling your eyes, you grabbed the remote and clicked the TV off.

Tapping Seonghwa again, harder this time, he finally shifted. His eyes scanned the room as they opened, then he sat up, disgruntled.

“Babe?” He groaned. “Is something wrong? You okay?”

His concern pierced straight through the walls you’d spent the last few hours building around yourself.

Damn him…again.

How did he make staying angry so difficult?

“Define okay.”

Seonghwa nodded, flitting his gaze and stared at the floor. It was obvious he felt guilty.

Good.

If he wanted your forgiveness, he’d have to earn it—and you had a few ideas where to start. You took a deep breath and held out your hand to him. It took him a moment to understand, glancing at your hand then back up to your face, confusion settling in his expression. Then cautiously, he took your hand in his.

You helped him stand to his feet before dragging him to the bedroom. Even half-asleep, he moved with effortless grace—agile bunny. Closing the door behind, you leaned your back against it. Anger and desire churned together inside you until you could no longer tell where one ended and the other began.

“Baby, I really am sorry. Can we talk more in the—”

Suddenly, cutting off his words, you closed the distance between you and lunged at him, pressing your lips to his with hunger and greed. Seonghwa’s hands slipped around your waist, tasting you with similar tension and need. Your hands trailed up the sides of his neck, fisting the hair at the nape of his head.

His tongue brushed against yours before he leaned back, leaving you pouting like a toddler who got their toy taken away.

“Wait, y/n, I want you to hear me,” he pleaded. “I don’t want you to think I’m trying to weasel out of—”

“Stop talking.” You muttered, returning your lips to his.

Your wet lips trailed lower, kissing and licking the corner of his mouth before moving to his jaw and then his throat. Seonghwa let out a hushed moan, gripping the hem of your shirt tightly.

“I just want you to know…I know I was wrong and—”

“I have something better for that mouth to do other than yap.”

Hwa raised an eyebrow, curiosity briefly eclipsing the guilt in his eyes.

“I want you to do that thing…” You both stood in silence for a beat, “…with your tongue. Now.”

That cheeky smile of his made a quick comeback. He made short work of guiding you backward toward the bed until the back of your legs hit the bed frame and your butt plopped down on the mattress. He sank to his knees and hoisted your legs above his shoulders, drawing you back on your forearms.

“Your wish is my command, princess,” he cooed.

His fingers tightened around your thigh as Seonghwa pushed your legs apart and placed slow, tantalizing kisses up your inner thigh until he got to the crease of your hip. His nose grazed along your panty line, lightly kissing the wet splotch of fabric. It drove you crazy.

You caressed his bicep roughly, crescent shapes indenting his skin from your nails.

“Stop teasing, Hwa,” you let out breathlessly.

He lifted his head and sweetly nipped the inside of your thigh.

“But, baby, teasing is the best part…” He rubbed two of his long fingers in circles over the damp cotton, playing delicately with your covered clit.

Your thighs shook slightly in his strong hands. Seonghwa ignored the way you squirmed, heat rushing from your core to your face. Switching his fingers with his lips, he licked a hot stripe up the cloth and sucked at the sensitive bud.

Goddamnit. Your head grew fuzzy, blood pounding in your ears. Seonghwa let out a low laugh as you whimpered, desperate for him to latch his tongue directly to your aching flesh. Your fingernails left angry red marks as they scratched along his arm.

“So wet for me already, I see.” He boasted, nuzzling his face deeper into your soaked panties like a man starved.

“F-fuck you…Hwa…”

“All in good time, y/n.” He tangled his fingers in the strings of your underwear. “Lift your hips for me, sweetheart.”

You did as he instructed before he slipped them down your legs, tossing them to the floor. He studied the juicy center between your hips, practically drooling at the sight. His gaze lifted to meet yours before he lowered his head once more, gliding his tongue up and down your pussy once. Your head tipped back, your entire body igniting like a flame.

“Please…”

“Please what?” He asked coyly. “Use your words, baby.”

“Please…eat me...” you whispered, clawing at his hand.

He buried his head, tongue parting through your folds and circling the bundle of nerves that begged for his attention. Seonghwa continued edging you, his tongue traveling everywhere but where you craved.

He knew exactly how to rile you up.

His mouth resumed the task at hand with renewed eagerness, and your choked gasps filled the room.

“H-hwa..” you moaned, but it was a broken, whiny sound from the back of your throat as your fingers twisted in his golden locks.

Your hips rutted up as his tongue worked you, a mixture of your wetness and his saliva dripping heavily down his chin. Each tug at his hair only spurred him on. He growled against you, sending vibrations through your core. Your toes curled at the overwhelming tension.

“You taste so fucking good, baby,” he rasped drunkenly.

Words abandoned you. All that came out was incoherent, meaningless babbling. His mouth moved to suck at your throbbing clit with endearing focus, the scorching pleasure blinding you.

Then he did it—that thing you loved most. His tongue slid into you, far as it could into your hot, wet core. His hand resting on your gut to hold you in place as you trembled.

“Hwa—” you cried out, gripping his hand frantically, grinding down as his nose hit your clit with each motion, his name tumbling from your lips. “P-please don’t stop.”

He sucked gingerly at your aching bud, swiveling his tongue flat like a brush in a painter's hand along your insides. The coil in your stomach knotted fast, the relentless attention to your clit sending unbearable sensations rippling through your body.

As the fire in your abdomen spread, an uncontrolled instinct to run away from him coursed through you, your hand shoving his forehead in weak effort.

He kept you exactly where you were.

His shoulders pressed your thighs further back as he moaned into you, keeping his mouth latched to you and his view unobstructed. Seonghwa liked to watch you fall apart. His gaze stayed fixed on your face as it lit up with delight.

The orgasm ripped through you as your eyes shut, your mouth falling open in a silent cry. You rode his tongue in a frenzy with the intense waves rushing through you. Silvery strings of spit and arousal broke as he pulled away. As the white haze faded from your vision, you caught the shine of it on his swollen lips.

Seonghwa stood over you, breathing heavily, taking in the aftermath of you coming undone.

“Fuck…” you panted, flicking your foot softly and pressing your toes to his crotch, teasing the bulge.

Seonghwa was rock hard, his cock pulsing to be freed.

“Flip over and get on your stomach,” his voice was delicate yet commanding as he pulled his sweats down by the waist, "I'm not done with you yet.”

You obeyed immediately, folding yourself over the side of the bed until your feet touched the cold wooden floor.

You barely heard him come up behind you.

Not until his cock pushed inside you, thick and unyielding, and stretched you open inch by inch. Your fingers dug into the bedsheets as the pressure built in your stomach with every snap of hips.

“Oh, y/n, you feel so fucking perfect…” his hands squeezed your waist to steady you as he bottomed out inside you.

The slick, heated squelching and your muffled cries as you stuffed your face in the mattress was all you could hear. Your legs threatened to give out under the weight of his thrusts. The burning friction was sharp, delicious, and intoxicating.

Your soaked cunt fluttered helplessly around him as he rolled his hips gradually, setting an intense but frustrating pace. Your breath hitched when you turned your head to the side, purring raggedly as Seonghwa stuffed you to an all too familiar fullness.

“You like that baby? Hmm, does this feel good?”

He knows you can’t answer.

Bastard.

Everything blurred into white as your body was entranced with fiery bliss, the next orgasm knocking on your belly with searing passion, but that’s when you saw it…

The mirror.

The reflection of the two of you staring back.

Your eyes widened at the sight.

(A few weeks ago, Seonghwa came home with the largest and gaudiest mirror you’d ever seen. A chrome silver frame adorned with red roses and thorny vines surrounded the glass, and he propped it against the wall across from the bed.

You hated it.

He loved it.

So, it stayed—but you didn’t understand why…until now.)

Seonghwa stared into the mirror, lustfully pumping in and out of you, a slow smirk creeping across his face as his eyes locked with yours in the reflection. His dark demeanor was animalistic and carnal and…painfully sexy.

Your boyfriend was watching himself fuck you.

Holy airball.

“You’re taking me so good, princess...”

Seonghwa raised your leg, guiding your knee onto the bed. Your eyes rolled back as he pushed deeper into you. One hand gripped the back of your thigh. The other seized the back of your neck, forcing your face into the bedding.

“Fuck…Seonghwa…oh my go—” you whined, feeling your ass bounce against his groin, “I’m c-close…don’t…s-stop…”

Low, wild groans tore from his chest as he quickened his rhythm.

Each thrust felt like an imprint in your pussy—like he was reclaiming you completely as his.

“That’s it, y/n. Cum for me, cum all over my cock,” he grunted.

Those words shoved you right over the edge.

For a second time, a choked sob bursted out of you as your walls clenched around Seonghwa’s length, causing his hips to stutter.

Stars sparkled behind your eyes, and it hit you that this was the most intense orgasm you’d ever had.

(The memory flickered—Seonghwa had you pinned against a fence in the backyard of his family home—mind-blowing, but this surpassed it.)

“S-shit, holy s-shit…” his deep voice broke, your name dribbling wrecked and raw through his lips as you cum around him.

His head tilted back and hips stilled, spilling his seed inside you, slowly pushing back and forth as you milked every last drop from him.

The only sound was the both of you breathing as he stopped and rested against you.

Seonghwa stayed inside you for a second longer before pulling himself out sluggishly. He fell to his knees, gaze dropping on his cum leaking out of your cunt.

Your body, heavy and flooded, collapsed before you carefully crawled along the bed, attempting to shift away and put some distance between you and your sex demon boyfriend.

It was too late.

Hwa was ravenous.

He followed instantly.

“Nu-uh, come back here.” Seonghwa grabbed your waist and pulled you back.

He greeted you with a sizzling, sticky lick up your drenched core and you yelped at the sudden contact.

He didn’t slow down. Standing over you, he closed the distance again and shoved his finger inside you without warning.

“I have to see you cum one more time.”

“Seonghwa…” you mewled, thighs shaking from the overstimulation.

He added a second ring-clad finger for good measure, the cool metal roughly pressing into your flesh. Hwa drove his fingers further inside you, flexing them and hitting your sweet spot.

Your screams of ecstasy fueled him.

His fingers split you with reckless abandon. Your thoughts dissolved as juices trickled from your cunt, coating his hand and puddling onto the floor.

A piercing slap stung your ass cheek before Seonghwa rubbed the sore skin.

“Good girl. You’re doing very well,” he praised, his thumb playing with your clit in tandem with his strokes.

“Oh my god…”

It was too much.

A strangled noise tumbled from your mouth as the knot in your stomach shattered and released your third orgasm fiercely, your pussy spasming around his digits until he pulled them out.

You quivered tensely, swallowing hard before going limp.

Thick spurts of cum, his and yours, seeped between your legs.

The rest of the night, you and Seonghwa lay together in bed, cuddling with his second erection engulfed by your wet heat. Arms wrapped around each other as he moaned lovingly into your ear.

You were kissing and sucking sloppily all over his neck and throat, leaving these reddish purple splotches on his skin.

Marking your territory.

“Baby…fuck…” Every time he moaned, his cock twitched against your spongy walls.

It made you giggle.

“I want to apologize…please…”

Your head lifted as you met his eyes, ready to finally hear him.

“I’m sorry I made you feel like shit. I promise it won’t happen again.” Seonghwa whispered, appearing extremely sincere.

“I know, Hwa…and I forgive you.”

His face lights up, giving you a short kiss on your lips with the utmost satisfaction. You continued biting at his bruised throat, giving kitten licks in between to soothe the stings.

He meant too much to you to let go of.

He just needed to respect you more.

“But you’ll have to prove that it’s earned with your actions.”

“Didn’t I do that like half an hour ago? You came three times?”

“Shut up,” you tried to stifle your laugh but it came out anyway as you punched him playfully in the chest.

“I will, baby. I swear. I love you too much to—”

Seonghwa’s words cut off as his eyes grew wide.

“I mean…fuck. I shouldn’t have said that. I, uhm...”

You took his face with both hands and kissed him tenderly. It was filled with passion, tongues massaging together as your mouths rolled over each other.

It felt like he was your last breath of air.

“I love you too, Hwa.”

© written by teezslvt— do not steal or claim as your own 𓆩♡𓆪

[wooyos]

ATEEZ BAD (2026) dir. Seong Wonmo — Digipedi

[mingi-buffering-24-7]

Under the Table [yunho x reader]

You’ve never asked him to choose you out loud. You assumed he would anyway. Until today, when someone else mistakes you for something temporary, and you decide to stop being patient and start being seen. 

Pairing: Dom!Yunho x Brat!Reader Tropes: Age-gap (40/mid-20s) Established Relationship. High Society Romance.  Genre: Smut. Hurt/Comfort. Fluff. Warnings: explicit sexual content, dom!yunho, public sexual activity, power dynamics, spanking, dirty talk, sexual humiliation elements, unprotected sex, heel play, objectification, orgasm denial, impact play, degradation, exhibitionism, emotional vulnerability, crying, possessive behavior, jealousy, insecurity, emotional distress, miscommunication, perceived emotional neglect, relationship insecurity, fear of public perception, age-gap relationship, explicit language, Word Count: 9.3k a/n: i need everyone to know that i don't even like feet. at all. so naturally i wrote almost 10k words where they're basically a supporting character. and the whiplash of going from writing sub mingi to dom yunho should honestly be enough to give anyone a headache.

based on [this] request

masterlist

Yunho still believes in dating you. Not because the relationship needs saving. Not because he thinks grand gestures are the secret to lasting love. He simply refuses to let the person he loves become someone he only sees between meetings.

Which is how you end up here. The restaurant glows with warm amber light reflected across crystal glasses and polished cutlery. Conversations dissolve beneath soft piano music, waiters glide silently between tables, and every detail, from the pressed linen to the wine list, whispers the kind of quiet luxury people spend weeks trying to reserve.

Yunho booked it the moment he found an evening that belonged to neither work nor obligation. Not because it's exclusive. Because he missed you.

Across the table, you shift for what must be the third time since sitting down. His eyes flick briefly beneath the table before returning to your face.

"The shoes?"

You sigh dramatically. "They're trying to kill me."

"They look beautiful."

"They're weapons."

"They're beautiful weapons."

You can't help smiling.

"You say that because you're not the one wearing them."

"No." His gaze lingers for just a heartbeat longer than necessary, warm enough to make your cheeks threaten a blush. "I'm the one who gets to look at them."

You shake your head, hiding your smile behind your wine glass.

The conversation slips easily into familiar territory after that. His latest project. Your week. A trip the two of you keep promising to plan and never quite finding the time for.

Somewhere in the middle, you mention a singer that's apparently impossible to escape these days.

Yunho frowns thoughtfully.

"I've never heard of them."

You look at him over the rim of your glass.

"You're making your age very obvious tonight."

"I've spent forty years carefully building that privilege."

"You could at least pretend to know."

"I could." A beat. "I'd rather have you explain it."

You laugh quietly, shaking your head.

"You're impossible."

"So I've been told."

There's something wonderfully unfair about the way he says it. Completely unbothered. Never defensive. Never trying to convince you he's younger than he is. He wears the years between you with the same quiet confidence he wears one of his tailored suits, as though neither has ever occurred to him as something needing justification.

You tease him because it's easy. He lets you because he likes the sound of your laugh.

By the time your starters appear, you've somehow moved from music to books to the strange corners of the internet that never seem to find their way onto Yunho's phone.

He only understands about half of what you're talking about. You know because he tells you. And yet he never stops listening. His attention never wanders. 

Every now and then, you catch him looking at you over the candle between you. Not saying anything. Just watching with that quiet, unwavering fondness that has always belonged to the two of you. 

It never feels like being observed. It feels like coming home.

The interruption slips so easily into the evening that, at first, you don't think anything of it.

"Yunho?"

He looks up.

For the first time all night, surprise brightens his face before settling into a smile you haven't seen since you walked into the restaurant.

"...Wow." He stands almost instinctively. "It's been years."

She laughs as she steps closer, arms already opening. Yunho returns the hug without hesitation, one hand resting briefly against the middle of her back before they separate again. Easy. Familiar. The kind of greeting that belongs to people who've crossed paths enough times for formality to disappear.

"You look exactly the same."

"So do you."

"No chance."

"I've become a much better liar."

He laughs, and something inside you softens.

Of course he knows people. He's spent twenty years building a career that seems to exist somewhere between boardrooms, charity galas and airports. It would be stranger if old acquaintances didn't recognize him.

She fits naturally into that world. Elegant dress. Confident smile. Around his age. The sort of woman who never looks intimidated by expensive restaurants because she's been having dinners like these for years.

They fall into conversation without effort. Fundraisers. Old colleagues. Someone retiring. Someone getting married. Names you've never heard and places you've never been.

You let yourself fade into the background for a while, content to listen. You know Yunho likes introducing people properly rather than interrupting conversations halfway through. He'll get there.

"I haven't seen you at anything lately," she says eventually.

"I've been hiding."

"Still?"

He smiles.

"Work."

She shakes her head, pretending to be disappointed.

"What a shame."

There's something in the way she says it that makes you glance up. Not inappropriate. Just interested. Interested enough that, without realizing it, you find yourself waiting.

Surely now. Surely this is where Yunho smiles, reaches across the table, brushes his fingers against yours and says the simplest sentence in the world.

I'm here with my girlfriend.

He doesn't. Instead, he answers whatever she'd asked next, completely unaware that you've stopped following the conversation.

You tell yourself not to be ridiculous. He's just being polite. Another minute passes. She laughs again.

"So you finally found a reason to leave the office?"

"I try."

"I was beginning to think you'd married your work."

"I've considered divorcing it."

She laughs harder than the joke deserves. You smile politely. Still waiting. Still giving him the chance. Then, almost as an afterthought, she turns to you.

"And you?"

You blink. "Sorry?"

"What do you do?"

You answer, and she listens with genuine interest. She asks about your work, compliments it, tells you it's impressive.

For one brief moment, the knot inside your chest loosens. Then she looks back at Yunho.

"You've always had good taste." He raises an eyebrow. "In people," she clarifies with a smile. "You always surround yourself with interesting company."

Yunho nods once.

"I've been lucky."

Lucky. That's all. No glance toward you. No quiet smile that says she's mine. No effortless correction. Nothing.

The conversation moves on, but something inside you doesn't. Because the awful part isn't that she's flirting. The awful part is that she has absolutely no reason not to. She's speaking to a man she believes is single. And the only person who could have told her otherwise keeps choosing not to.

When she finally excuses herself, her fingers brush lightly over his sleeve.

"You should come to the gala next month."

"We'll see."

"I'd love to catch up properly."

Her smile lingers for a heartbeat longer before she disappears into the restaurant. Yunho watches her leave with the absent familiarity of someone remembering an old colleague. Then he sits back down, reaches for his wine and smiles to himself.

"She's exactly the same as she was ten years ago."

"Mhm."

You smile because smiling costs less than speaking. Because saying what you're actually thinking would ruin the evening. 

"As I was saying..." He settles back into his chair, picking up the conversation exactly where he'd left it. "The board wants to move the launch to September, which makes absolutely no sense because we'd have to renegotiate every supplier."

His voice fades into the background. You hear it. You just aren't listening anymore. Not really. You're still sitting at the same table as him, but your mind is trapped five minutes in the past, replaying every smile, every laugh, every opportunity he had to choose you out loud. All you can think is how easy it would've been. One sentence. One look. One absentminded reach for your hand.

Anything that said she's with me. Instead, for ten long minutes, you felt like the centerpiece on the table. Beautiful. Expensive. And entirely decorative. Less like the woman sharing dinner with him and more like someone who happened to be sitting at his table.

"That's nice."

Yunho pauses. He mistakes the tightness in your voice for exhaustion. Or maybe he notices it and decides to give you space. Either way, he lets it pass.

"I wouldn't call it nice."

You blink, as though you've only just remembered he's speaking. "What?"

"I asked what you thought."

You shrug lightly. "I think you should do whatever makes you happy."

His brows knit together.

"Dove."

"Hm?"

"I stopped talking about work a while ago."

"Oh." You take another sip of wine, buying yourself a second. "I must've missed it."

His eyes stay on you. Long enough that you almost think he's going to ask what's wrong. Long enough that a tiny, hopeful part of you waits for him to.

Instead, a waiter stops beside the table. Perfect. This is the moment you decide you’re done being mature. Which is unfortunate. Because you’re usually very good at it.

You look up with a smile so bright it surprises even you.

"Sorry," you say, almost apologetically. "Can I ask you something?"

He's young. Pretty in the effortless way university students always seem to be.

You ask about the desserts. Then whether the cocktails are actually worth ordering. Then which dish he likes best. 

He answers easily. You laugh at one of his jokes. It isn't even that funny.

Yunho watches the exchange in silence. Not because there's anything inappropriate about it. Because there isn't. Which somehow makes the knot in your chest tighten even more. You're doing exactly what he did. Being polite. Being friendly. Nothing more. 

When the waiter finally excuses himself, Yunho doesn't say anything straight away. He waits until the young man disappears around the corner. Only then does he look at you.

"What was that?"

You tilt your head. "What was what?"

"You've asked him more questions in two minutes than you've asked me all night."

"I was being polite."

"You were interviewing him."

"He seemed nice."

"I'm sure he did."

You smile into your glass. "I liked his smile."

Silence. You don't need to look up to feel his eyes on you. When you finally do, his expression has changed almost imperceptibly. Not jealousy. Confusion.

"You liked his smile."

"It was a nice smile."

He studies you for a long moment. Like he's waiting for the punchline. Like he's convinced this version of you can't possibly be real. Eventually he shakes his head, choosing not to take the bait.

"So..." he tries again, "I was thinking maybe we could..."

You pick up your phone. His voice stops. You unlock it. Scroll. You couldn't say what you're looking at if someone asked. The screen is just somewhere else to put your eyes.

"Dove."

"Hm?"

"Put the phone away."

"Why?"

His patience holds. Barely.

"Because I'm talking to you."

You don't look up. "So?"

The word hangs there. Small. Careless. Sharp enough to cut.

"So..." He exhales slowly, choosing every word with visible effort. "I'd appreciate it if you listened."

You laugh quietly. "I listened to her."

Silence. Real silence. The kind that empties the space around it.

"...What?"

You finally meet his eyes. "I listened very politely."

Something flickers across his face. Not understanding. Recognition.

"You've been upset ever since she left."

"I'm not upset."

"No?"

"No."

"You've barely looked at me."

"I've looked at you loads."

You punctuate the sentence by stealing a bite from his plate. Not because you're hungry. Because it's his. Because you know he'll stop you. 

His fingers close gently around your wrist before your fork reaches the food. Not enough to hurt. Just enough to make you stop. He looks down at your hand. Then back at you.

"...Really?"

You smile with infuriating sweetness. "I wanted to know if yours tasted better."

"You ordered the exact same thing."

"It does."

"Dove..."

"It tastes different."

"It's the same recipe."

"It isn't."

"It objectively is."

"It isn't to me."

He lets go of your wrist with a slow breath, rubbing a hand across his mouth as though he's physically trying to hold onto the last thread of his patience.

"You are being impossible."

"I'm eating dinner."

"No." His eyes don't leave yours. "You're trying to punish me."

The words catch you off guard. For just a second. Long enough for him to notice.

"I haven't argued with you once," you say quietly.

"You don't have to." His voice drops lower. "You've spent the last fifteen minutes trying to make me feel something."

You force another smile.

"What exactly am I trying to make you feel?"

"I don't know." There's frustration there now. Real frustration. "That's the problem."

He leans back, studying you with the same expression he wears when something at work refuses to make sense. Like he's looking at all the pieces and none of them fit.

"I know you." His voice softens despite himself. "This..." His eyes search yours. "...isn't you."

Something twists painfully inside your chest. You could tell him. You could end this right now. You could say, You made me feel invisible. Instead, you swallow it. Smile. Tilt your head.

"I don't know what you're talking about."

And for the first time all evening, Yunho stops trying to continue the conversation. Because whatever happened to the woman he walked into this restaurant with, he has no idea how to reach her anymore.

You know you're being unfair. You know this isn't you. But the version of yourself that spent the last ten minutes feeling invisible is louder than the one who usually knows better.

You just want him to look at you. 

You casually drop your napkin and bend down to retrieve it, taking just a second longer than necessary to adjust the strap of your heel. When you straighten again, Yunho is already looking at you.

"Something wrong?" you ask, all innocent eyes.

"Nothing," he replies, a little too quickly.

"Hm."

You smooth your napkin back across your lap as though you've finally decided to behave. Yunho almost believes it. Then you reach for the dessert menu.

"I think I'm getting dessert."

"We haven't finished dinner."

"I like planning ahead." Your finger drifts lazily down the list before you smile to yourself. "This one sounds nice."

Yunho doesn't even look.

"What one?"

"The vanilla mille-feuille." You tilt the menu toward yourself. "I've heard the chef is very generous with the cream." 

His fork stops halfway to his mouth.

"Dove."

"What?" You glance up. "I like cream."

His jaw flexes. "You know exactly what you're doing."

"I do?" Your eyebrows lift with practiced innocence. "I'm ordering dessert."

"You haven't ordered anything."

"I'm thinking about it."

His jaw tightens.

"Think about something else."

You hum as though you're genuinely considering the suggestion.

For a heartbeat, neither of you speaks. Around you, cutlery clinks against porcelain, conversations drift lazily through the restaurant, and somewhere a bottle of wine is uncorked.

Only your table feels painfully quiet. You smile into the menu.

"I just want something sweet."

His eyes finally meet yours. "You are testing my patience."

"No." You lower the menu carefully. "I'm participating in the conversation."

"Dove."

"You said I wasn't talking enough."

"I also said to behave."

"I am."

"You've never looked less convincing."

The corner of your mouth twitches.

"Really?" you say with a shrug, crossing your legs slowly under the table, letting your foot brush against his calf. "I'm just enjoying dinner."

His breath hitches at the contact, and he pulls his leg away slightly. "Don't."

"Don't what?" you ask, voice dropping to a whisper as you lean closer. "Don't touch you? Don't talk about dessert? Don't breathe?"

"You're playing games," he accuses, but his voice has lost some of its edge.

"I'm just being myself," you reply with a small smile, tracing patterns on the tablecloth with your finger. "Unless you'd prefer I be more like her?"

Yunho's jaw tightens at the mention of the other woman. "That's not what I said."

"Then what did you mean?" you challenge, your foot finding his leg again and staying there this time.

For the first time that evening, something flashes across Yunho's face. Not anger. Not yet. Impatience. The kind that only exists because he cares enough to keep trying. And somehow, that only makes some childish, wounded part of you decide that's still not enough. 

You let your other foot join the first, the expensive Louboutins he bought you last month now hidden under the tablecloth. The ones he always says make your legs look endless. The ones he loves seeing you in when he's buried inside you.

"Dove," he warns, his voice tight.

"Yunho," you mimic, your voice syrupy sweet as you apply more pressure with your foot. "Problem?"

Your pointed toe traces the seam of his trousers until you reach his balls. You press gently, just enough to make him shift in his seat. His knuckles turn white on his fork, but he doesn't look away from you. 

Yunho keeps acting as if everything is normal. But his jaw tightens almost imperceptibly. He has a thing for your heels, always has. The way they look on you, the sound they make on marble floors, the marks they sometimes leave on his thighs when you're riding him.

"Behave," he grunts under his breath.

You blink innocently. "I am behaving."

His eyes darken. "No, you're not."

You smirk slightly. "Don't you like it?"

Yunho doesn't push. Not yet. Because you’re in public. Because he trusts you. Because he likes it when you want him. Because maybe you're just having fun. And god help him, because his dick is already responding to your touches.

"Remember when you fucked me in these?" you whisper, leaning forward. "How you said they should've been illegal?"

Yunho remembers. He also remembers paying for them. Looking back, he should've left them in the shop. 

He grows increasingly tense. Because this isn't you. Because something is wrong. Because you’re choosing a spectacularly inconvenient time to express it. And because despite his concern, he's getting painfully hard.

Then you cross the line. Not maliciously. Desperately, your foot travels higher, the pointed toe now rubbing against his length. You can feel him twitch and grow under your touch. His jaw clenches, but he doesn't look away from you. He's trying to win this silent battle, trying to pretend you're not affecting him.

"Stop," he mouths, his eyes dark with fury and arousal.

You just smile, rubbing your foot against him in slow, torturous circles. "Make me."

His hand shoots out under the table, fingers wrapping around your ankle in a grip that's both punishing and possessive. 

"Enough," he growls, his voice low and dangerous. "You need to stop."

His voice is low enough that nobody else hears it. You do.

The hand around your ankle loosens almost immediately, his fingers sliding away as though he's only just realized how tightly he'd been holding you. The warmth of his palm lingers against your skin for a second longer than the touch itself.

Neither of you moves. Neither of you says anything. The restaurant keeps existing around you. Glasses clink. Someone laughs two tables over. A waiter walks past carrying a bottle of wine as if the world hasn't just tilted on its axis.

Yunho looks at you. His breathing is uneven. His jaw is locked so tightly you can see the muscle jump beneath his skin. There is still frustration written all over his face, but underneath it, buried somewhere deeper, is something that twists painfully in your chest.

Worry. Not embarrassment. Not annoyance. Worry.

He pushes his chair back.

"Come with me."

You don't answer. He leans down instead, close enough that only you can hear him.

"Now."

The word isn't loud. It doesn't need to be. Yunho has never raised his voice at you. He doesn't have to. 

You stand without another argument. His hand finds your wrist first, then slips lower until it settles against the small of your back, guiding you through the restaurant with a firmness you've never felt from him before. Every step keeps you tucked against his side.

The walk feels endless. Your heels catch against the polished floor more than once, forcing you to stumble to keep up with his pace. Usually he'd notice. Usually he'd slow down immediately, his hand tightening instinctively around yours before asking if your feet hurt.

Tonight he doesn't. Not because he doesn't care. Because his mind is somewhere else entirely.

"What were you thinking?"

His voice is quiet. Controlled. Which somehow makes it worse.

You swallow. "I don't know."

A humorless laugh escapes him through his nose.

"Clearly."

The word lands harder than if he'd shouted. You flinch.

The bathroom door clicks shut behind you, sealing away the music, the conversations, the comfortable illusion that tonight had started as a date.

Silence settles immediately.

Yunho turns to face you. His tie sits slightly crooked. His hair is messier than it was twenty minutes ago. The picture of composure is still there, but only if someone doesn't know where to look.

You do. His jaw is set so tightly it almost hurts to see.  For a long moment, he simply looks. Like he's trying to recognize you again.

"Explain."

"I..."

Nothing.

He waits. Not impatiently. Expectantly. When you still don't answer, he exhales through his nose, rubing a tired hand across his face. 

"Talk to me."

You stare at the floor. 

"I didn't like her."

"I gathered that."

"You were flirting with her."

His expression doesn't change. "No."

"You were."

"I wasn't."

"You laughed at everything she said."

"I was being polite."

"You hugged her."

"She hugged me."

"You let her touch you."

"And?"

The question lands harder than if he'd argued. You stare at him.

"You never stopped her."

For the first time, Yunho goes quiet. Not because he doesn't have an answer. Because he's finally hearing the one thing you've been trying so desperately not to say. He studies your face for a long moment before speaking again.

"...There it is."

Your throat tightens.

"What?"

"That's what this has been about."

You look away before he can see your eyes burn. He notices anyway. He takes one slow step closer.

"Dove." You keep staring at the floor. Another step. "Look at me."

You hate how difficult that suddenly is. When your eyes finally lift to his, your voice comes out so much smaller than you intended.

"You never told her."

A small crease appears between his brows.

"Told her what?"

"That I was your girlfriend."

Silence. Real silence. Yunho blinks once. Not because he's caught. Because the thought genuinely never crossed his mind. You let out a brittle laugh.

"...See?"

"Dove."

"No."

You shake your head before he can interrupt.

"She looked at me like I was... I don't know... your assistant. Someone you brought because you didn't want to eat alone."

His face changes. Just enough.

"I don't care what she thought."

"I do."

The words break apart on the way out.

"I do because you never gave her a reason to think anything else."

Yunho's shoulders still. His eyes search yours. Not defensive. Thinking. Working backwards through the evening. Then, very quietly...

"Is that what you believed?"

You don't answer. Because answering would make it real. He watches you for another second. Then your whisper finally comes.

"Sometimes..." Your voice almost disappears. "Sometimes it feels like you keep me separate."

He doesn't answer. Which somehow hurts even more. Instead, he closes his eyes. Only for a heartbeat. When they open again, something inside them has shifted.

You fill the silence yourself. "Maybe you're embarrassed."

His head lifts. "No."

"Maybe you don't want people wondering why you're dating someone younger."

"Dove."

"Maybe you think they'll look at you and..."

"Stop."

The word lands like stone. Certain. He closes the distance between you in two measured steps, stopping just close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from him. One hand wraps gently around your forearm. Grounding. Not restraining. His thumb strokes your skin once. 

"Don't do that."

Your eyes finally spill over. "Do what?"

His own jaw tightens. 

"Don't tell me what I think." A beat passes between you. "Don't tell me what I feel." His voice is still calm. Still measured. But it cracks ever so slightly around the edges. "Especially when you're so wrong."

You don't argue. You don't defend yourself. Because for the first time that evening, you hear your own words the way he heard them. And they're ugly. You weren't accusing him. You were telling him you'd believed, even for a little while, that the man who loves you was ashamed to stand beside you.

The fight drains out of you all at once, leaving nothing behind except embarrassment and the quiet realization of how badly you've needed him to understand. 

Yunho sees it happen. He watches your shoulders fold inward. Watches your eyes drop. Watches the bravado disappear as quickly as it arrived. And in that instant, the irritation he's been carrying since the restaurant slips away almost completely.

Because you were never trying to make him miserable. You were trying, desperately and terribly, to ask one question you didn't know how to put into words.

His hand loosens around your arm. His shoulders drop with a tired exhale. When he speaks again, the steel is still there. But now it's wrapped around something infinitely softer.

"...Do you really think so little of me?"

The question steals the air from your lungs. Not because he's angry. Because he's hurt. Because beneath every stern word since you walked into this bathroom had been something else entirely.

Fear. Fear that something had happened to you. Fear that he'd somehow missed it. Fear that the woman he loves had spent an entire dinner convincing herself she wasn't enough.

You drop your eyes. 

"I'm sorry."

"No." His voice is gentle now. "I am sorry."

You look back up confused. He reaches out then, brushing a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingertips linger for just a second against your cheek, almost hesitant after everything that was said.

"I don't talk about my private life at work."

You frown. "I know."

"No." His thumb strokes your cheek once. "I mean..." He searches for the right words, his eyes never leaving yours. "I don't talk about it. Ever."

The confession sounds strangely vulnerable coming from him. Yunho always knows what to say. Except now.

"I don't talk about my parents. I don't talk about my brother. I don't talk about holidays." A faint smile pulls at one corner of his mouth, humorless this time. "Half the people I work with barely know anything about me."

You listen quietly. Because it's true. You've heard him dodge personal questions before. Seen him redirect conversations so smoothly people never realized he'd done it. You'd just never put yourself in that category.

His hand slips from your cheek to the side of your neck, warm against your skin.

"I've spent years building that habit." His thumb moves absentmindedly beneath your ear. "So naturally..." He lets out another slow breath. "I did the same thing tonight."

Your chest tightens. He isn't defending himself, he's retracing his own steps, trying to find the moment he got it wrong.

A sad smile tugs at one corner of his mouth.

"I thought I was protecting my peace." His gaze softens. "I didn't realize I was asking you to carry the cost of it."

Something inside you gives way. Not all at once. Quietly. Like ice finally cracking under spring sunlight.

"I should've seen it," he murmurs. "I should've realized what that looked like from where you were standing. I should've introduced you." Your eyes close for half a second. "I should've made it obvious."

The first tear escapes before you can stop it. Yunho catches it with the pad of his thumb almost instinctively. Not because he found the perfect explanation. Because he isn't looking for one. He's simply standing in front of you, taking responsibility for a hurt he never intended to cause.

"I'm sorry, Dove."

You laugh weakly through the tears.

"You never apologize."

"I do."

"No, you don't."

"I do," he repeats softly. "When I'm wrong."

The corner of your mouth lifts despite yourself. Relief flickers across his face so briefly you almost miss it. He studies you for another moment, then sighs, the last of the tension leaving his shoulders.

"You scared me tonight." The confession is barely above a whisper. "I didn't know who I was sitting across from."

Shame crashes over you all over again.

"I'm sorry..."

"I know."

He doesn't answer right away. Instead, he leans forward until his forehead rests lightly against yours. The contact is warm. Familiar. The kind that always slows your breathing before you even realize it's happening.

Then he kisses you. Softly. Nothing like the way he kissed you earlier. Nothing demanding. Nothing that steals the air from your lungs. Just a slow press of his lips against yours, gentle enough that it feels less like desire and more like reassurance.

I'm still here.

When he pulls away, he doesn't move far. One hand is still cradling your jaw, his thumb absentmindedly stroking your cheek as though letting go isn't something he's ready to do yet.

"You really aren't embarrassed?" you ask quietly.

The question slips out before you can stop it. You regret it immediately. Yunho's eyebrows draw together so quickly it almost hurts to watch. 

"Embarrassed?" He searches your face as if he's trying to understand how your mind could've built that conclusion. "Of you?" He lets out a quiet, disbelieving breath.

His other hand comes up to cup your face, leaving you held between both of his palms as though you're something far more fragile than either of you would like to admit.

"Are you out of your mind?"

Heat rushes to your cheeks. You want the floor to open beneath your feet.

"I just..."

The words refuse to come. Instead, another question does. Quieter this time.

"You still love me?"

Yunho simply stares. Not because he's offended. Because he genuinely can't believe that's the question you've been carrying around.

"That's your question?"

You look away instantly. "I shouldn't have asked."

"No." His fingers guide your face back toward him before you can hide. "You don't get to run away now."

His thumb brushes beneath your eye again, wiping away another tear before it falls.

"After everything we've just talked about..."

He smiles then. Small. Disbelieving. So full of affection it makes your chest ache.

"I love you." Simple. Certain. No hesitation. "I loved you when we walked into that restaurant." His thumb strokes slowly across your cheek. "I loved you while you spent an hour driving me out of my mind." The corner of his mouth twitches despite himself. "And I'm still standing here loving you now." Your breath catches. "There isn't a room in this world where I'd be embarrassed to stand beside you."

His forehead rests lightly against yours.

"If anything..." He continues with a quiet smile. "I'm usually wondering what I did to deserve being the man who gets to walk in with you."

Your eyes close. Not because you're crying anymore. Because your heart simply doesn't know what to do with that.

"You are not something I hide." A beat. "You are the best part of my life."

The silence stretches comfortably between you. This one doesn't hurt. This one heals. 

Then Yunho leans forward, pressing a lingering kiss against your forehead. Another against your temple. One more against your cheek, each one slower than the last, as though he's trying to erase every ugly thought you'd carried into this room. 

You smile despite yourself. It lasts all of two seconds. Because when he leans back, there's something new in his expression. The misunderstanding is gone. The hurt has been named. You've forgiven each other.

Which means there's only one thing left to deal with. The spectacular disaster you created out there. And judging by the look Yunho gives you, you're not getting away with that conversation quite so easily. 

"You caused me a great deal of trouble tonight."

The words aren't harsh. They're quiet. Which somehow makes them impossible to hide from.

You drop your gaze. "I'm sorry."

"I know." His hand finds yours again, turning it over gently until your fingers rest against his palm. "I forgive you."

Hope flickers across your face. Then he continues.

"But forgiveness doesn't erase the problem."

Your breath catches. You look back up at him. His expression is unreadable. Calm. Patient. Completely in control again.

"What... problem?"

Yunho pulls your hand and places it against the obvious tension beneath the expensive fabric of his trousers. Heat rushes into your face as you inhale sharply.

"Oh."

"Oh?" Yunho lets out a quiet, disbelieving laugh. "You knew exactly what you were doing." 

You immediately look away.

"I said I was sorry."

"You did." His fingers tighten around yours, pressing your palm more firmly against the hardness beneath his trousers. "And I accepted your apology."

You swallow. "Then...?"

"Then we address the consequences." His voice drops lower.

He steps closer. Your back finds the wall. Not trapped. Just nowhere else you'd rather be. Yunho reaches up, thumb brushing lightly across your jaw. Patient. Composed. Entirely too in control.

"You started this, Dove." His eyes darken. "Now you're going to finish it."

You bite your lip. "Here?"

"Where else?" His thumb traces your bottom lip. "You wanted to play games in public. Let's see how well you play when the stakes are real."

Your knees feel weak. "Yunho..."

"Unless you'd rather I take care of this myself?" He challenges, his voice low and rough. "But I don't think that's what you want, is it?"

You shake your head slowly, unable to form words.

"No." His hand moves from your jaw to the back of your neck, fingers tangling in your hair. "I didn't think so."

He leans in closer, his breath hot against your ear. "You wanted my attention? You have it. All of it. Now, are you going to fix what you broke?"

You nod, your heart pounding. "Yes."

"Good." 

The word has barely left his mouth before he's pulling you toward him.

One hand remains firm around the back of your neck, fingers spread wide beneath your hair. The other lands at your waist with enough certainty to steal the breath from your lungs, drawing you flush against him in a single, decisive movement.

"Now, be a good girl and show me how sorry you really are. Come here."

It's the last warning you get.

His mouth crashes into yours. The kiss is deep before you have time to think, your startled gasp swallowed immediately as he claims the space between your lips. There isn't an ounce of hesitation in him now. No careful testing. No gentle reassurance. Every slow, measured restraint he's held onto since dinner seems to disappear into the kiss instead.

Your fingers instinctively clutch at the front of his jacket, wrinkling the expensive fabric beneath your fists as your balance disappears beneath the force of him.

Yunho doesn't let you drift away. His hand tightens at your waist, keeping you exactly where he wants you, his breathing rough against your cheek every time the kiss breaks for the briefest heartbeat before he finds your mouth again. Like he's still angry. Still relieved. Still trying to convince himself you're here and that you're finally letting him in.

By the time he finally pulls back, neither of you is breathing properly. He doesn't give you room to recover. His forehead settles against yours almost immediately, his grip on your waist never loosening, your bodies still pressed together so completely you can feel the rise and fall of every uneven breath.

His eyes stay closed for a long moment.

"So stubborn," he murmurs, the words almost disappearing between your mouths.

His thumb presses once against your side, firm enough to remind you exactly whose arms you're standing in. 

The silence between you changes. The misunderstanding is gone. The tenderness is still there, buried somewhere beneath everything else. But what hangs between you now is heavier. Tighter. The kind of tension that makes the room suddenly feel too small to contain either of you.

Before you can smile, before your arms can find their way around his neck, his hands shift. One slides to the small of your back. The other gently catches your wrist. With one smooth movement, he turns you until your back meets his chest.

His body follows yours immediately, close enough that you feel the warmth of him through the fabric of your dress as he guides you forward. Two careful steps. Then your thighs meet the cool marble of the sink, and he stops behind you.

"Hands on the counter," he commands, his voice a low rumble against your ear.

You comply, your palms flat on the stone, your heart hammering against your ribs.

"You are a dangerous woman," he mutters against your shoulder before he bites down harshly, teeth sinking into skin where your dress won't cover it.

"Yunho," you whimper softly.

"Spread your legs," he commands.

You don’t have time to comply. He kicks your feet apart with his own, widening your stance. 

His gaze drops to your feet, still encased in the shoes he bought you. 

"Still wearing these," he murmurs, his voice rough with desire. "The ones that were torturing me all night. Every time you crossed your legs, every time you tapped that fucking heel against the table... I wanted to bend you over right there."

His hands are rough as they hike your dress up, bunching the fabric at your waist. The cool air hits your exposed skin.

"Look at you," he murmurs, his gaze predatory in the mirror. "All dressed up, and so beautiful but so, so misbehaving."

"Sorry," you whisper, your voice shaky.

His hand comes down hard on your ass. The sharp smack echoes in the tiled room. You cry out, more from surprise than pain.

"Louder."

"Sorry!" you repeat, stronger this time.

Another smack, this one on the other cheek, leaving a warm sting. "Good girl."

His hand comes down twice more in rapid succession, the sharp smacks echoing in the tiled room. Your flesh stings when he digs his nails into the sensitive skin, scratching hard enough to leave faint pink trails that make you whimper.

Yunho hooks his fingers into the waistband of your panties. Instead of sliding them down, he grips the delicate lace and pulls with brutal force. 

The fabric tears with a sharp sound, your knees trembling at the violence of it. Before you can collapse, he bucks his hips forward, pinning you more firmly against the cold marble of the sink.

"I'll be keeping these," he states. "A reminder for you to behave next time we're out."

He spreads your ass cheeks, exposing you completely. 

"Teasing me all night got you this wet? Such a messy girl for me."

He spits, watching the saliva trickle down your cleft before using two fingers to rub it over your clit and entrance. You push back against his hand, a desperate whine escaping your lips.

"Ah ah," he tuts, withdrawing his hand. He brings his glistening fingers to your mouth, his eyes locked on yours in the mirror. "Open. Taste yourself."

You obey, parting your lips as he slides his fingers into your mouth. You suck greedily, swirling your tongue around them, tasting your own arousal, mixing itself with the wine from dinner. His eyes darken as he watches you.

"Fuck," he groans, pulling his fingers from your mouth with a wet pop. "You don't get to dictate the pace. Not tonight. Tonight, I use you."

The sound of his belt buckle clinking open makes your heart race. Then the slow rasp of his zipper being lowered follows, each tooth releasing with agonizing slowness that has you trembling with anticipation.

He frees himself with one hand, the other pressing down firmly between your shoulder blades, keeping you bent over. He rubs the head of his cock through your wetness, coating himself in your arousal but not entering.

"Please, Yunho," you beg, trying to push back onto him.

He delivers another sharp slap to your ass.

"I said no."

He lines himself up with your entrance and, without warning, slams into you in one brutal thrust.

You both groan. He's impossibly deep like this, the angle unforgiving. The marble digs into your thighs with the force of his entry.

He gives you no time to adjust, setting a punishing rhythm from the start. Each thrust is hard, fast, designed to stake a claim. The sound of skin slapping skin is obscene, mixing with your helpless whimpers and his low grunts. 

Your high heels tremble dangerously beneath you, the stiletto points scraping uselessly against the tile as your legs struggle to support you under the force of his movements.

He captures one of your wrists, twisting it behind your back and pinning it there. He uses the leverage to push you further down, until your face is inches from the mirror, your breath fogging the glass.

His other hand finds your hair, winding it around his fist. He pulls, just enough to arch your back and force you to look at your reflection in the mirror.

"Watch," he growls, his hips never ceasing their assault. "Watch me fuck you. See how you take it? How desperate you are for my cock?"

Your eyes are glassy with tears of pleasure and pain, your mouth slack.

He looks so powerful behind you, his expression dark with lust, his expensive suit still perfectly tailored and pristine while you’re  a mess beneath him.

"You teased me all night," he pants, his grip on your hair tightening. "Rubbing your little foot on my dick. Making me hard in front of everyone. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be fucked like the little brat you are?"

"Yes!" you cry out. "Yes, I'm sorry!"

"You will be." He releases your hair only to grab your hip, his fingers digging into your flesh as he pistons into you. Your legs start to shake, but he continues his relentless pace, driving into you again and again.

He lowers his body, the expensive fabric of his suit brushing against your back as he leans down.

His tongue traces a path up your spine, making you shudder. He licks the exposed skin of your neck, then bites down on your earlobe, just enough to make you gasp.

Then he places his lips against the back of your head, not kissing, just pressing there to keep you in place and muffle his own moans.

"Fuck," he grunts against your hair, his voice muffled. "So tight. So perfect for me."

He presses a soft peck to your hair before straightening up, his gaze fixed on where you two are connected. His hand comes down hard on your ass once again. Then he grips the reddened flesh tightly, spreading your cheeks apart to watch himself disappear inside you with each powerful thrust.

Your forehead presses against the cool glass of the mirror, eyes closed as you focus on the sensation of him filling you so completely.

Each thrust sends waves of pleasure through your body, his length hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes the coil in your stomach tighten, ready to snap. 

"I'm gonna… Yunho, I'm close..."

"No, you're not."

With a sudden, cruel movement, he pulls out of you completely, leaving you empty and aching. You cry out at the loss, your body trembling with the denied release.

"Yunho, please..."

"Please what?" he growls, wrapping his hand around his slick cock and stroking himself a few times. Your juices glisten on his length in the dim light. 

"You don't get to come yet. You haven't earned it. You're going to take what I give you, and you're going to thank me for it."

His hand comes down hard on your left cheek, then your right, two rapid, harsh smacks that echo in the tiled bathroom.

The sharp sting makes you gasp, your flesh blooming red under his touch. He soothes the burning skin with his large palms, the contrast of roughness and tenderness making your head spin.

"Such a pretty color on you," he murmurs appreciatively before gripping your hips again.

He slams back into you without warning, even deeper than before. Your legs nearly give out. He slows his pace slightly, making each thrust more deliberate, more punishing.

"You wanted to act like a bitch? Fine. Now you're getting fucked like one. No relief. Just me, using this tight little pussy until I'm satisfied."

The bathroom door swings open. You freeze, a gasp caught in your throat as humiliation washes over you. Through the mirror, you see the woman from earlier pause in the doorway, her eyes wide with shock.

Your hands fly back, trying to push Yunho away, to create any distance between your bodies, but your arms feel like lead.

His arm circles your chest, pulling you upright against him until your back is flush with his chest. The new angle allows him to drive into you even deeper, his hips snapping with more intensity. 

Defeated, you rest your head on his shoulder, your eyes rolling back involuntarily, your mind going blank with overwhelming pleasure. You can't think, can't speak. You can only feel him filling you so good.

"Don't get embarrassed now," Yunho snarls in your ear, his thrusts never faltering. He doesn't even look at the intruder. His eyes are boring into yours in the mirror, a silent, possessive challenge. "Let her see who makes you feel this good. Let her see what my woman looks like when she's being properly fucked."

Your hand shoots out, gripping his wrist desperately to maintain your balance as your knees threaten to give out. Your other hand presses flat against the sink surface, fingers splayed wide as you try to anchor yourself. 

The woman watches for another second before muttering an apology and backing out quickly, pulling the door closed behind her.

Yunho lets out a dark chuckle. "Good girl. You did so well."

When one particularly loud moan escapes, he covers your mouth with his hand.

"Shhh, baby. I know, believe me, I know." He groans low when you squeeze around him involuntarily. "You know I love hearing you, dove, but I'd rather not have security escort us out of a restaurant I spent three weeks getting reservations for." 

Then he replaces his hand with two fingers in your mouth. You immediately suck and lick them, drool falling down your chin. He bites his own lip as he watches you, his eyes dark with hunger.

"Fuck," Yunho groans, his eyes darkening with pure devotion and angry lust. "That's it. So pretty."

He guides your chin toward the mirror, forcing you to look at your reflection. 

"Look at you," he murmurs against your temple. "So beautiful when you're falling apart for me." 

Your body is like putty against him, your dress disheveled with one strap fallen down your shoulder, your hair a mess, mascara smudged beneath your eyes.

He removes his fingers from your mouth, slick with your saliva, and traces them over your lips. 

"Watch," he commands softly. 

Then his hand slides down your body, finding your clit. He begins circling it, watching how easily you respond to his touches in your reflection with such intensity it feels like he's devouring you. Your hips buck against his hand, against his cock still buried inside you.

"Now, since you were so good... you can come," he pants against your lips. "Come for me, Dove. Squeeze my fucking cock."

That's all it takes. Your orgasm tears through you, violent and overwhelming. You scream his name, your body convulsing as your vision whites out.

He follows you over the edge a minute later with a guttural groan, burying himself to the hilt as he spills inside you, hips jerking with the force of his release. 

He grabs your hair, pulling just enough to tilt your head back. He cradles your face with his other hand, forcing you to meet his gaze as he continues to thrust through his orgasm.

"I love you," he breathes, desperate and raw. "God, I love you so much." he grunts as he pulses inside you.

"Love you too," you whisper, tears in your eyes. "So much."

Before you can say more, his mouth crashes against yours. It's not a kiss of gentleness, but of raw, overwhelming need. It's sloppy and desperate, filled with spit and drool as your tongues clash. 

He kisses you like he's trying to breathe you in. It's uncoordinated and filthy, a perfect counterpoint to the tender words just spoken, a testament to the storm of emotions raging between you.

He stays there for a moment, breathing heavily against your mouth, the only sounds in the room your ragged breaths.

Then, as quickly as the intensity began, it softens. He pulls out gently, and you feel his warmth leave you. He uses a handful of tissues to carefully clean you up, his touch impossibly tender now. 

"Can't have my perfect girl leaking all over her pretty dress," he teases softly.

He helps you stand, your legs trembling, and pulls your dress back down into place. He turns you to face him, his hands cupping your cheeks as he wipes away the tear tracks and smudged mascara with his thumbs.

"I've got you," he murmurs, pressing soft kisses to your forehead, your nose, your lips. "You did so good for me. So perfect."

He helps you fix your hair then. The same fingers that had tangled mercilessly through it only minutes ago now move with impossible care, smoothing down loose strands before tucking them neatly behind your ear.  

He straightens the stubborn strap back to your shoudler, brushes an invisible crease from your waist, then steps back to inspect his work with quiet satisfaction.

Only after deeming you presentable again does he adjust his own tie and smooth his jacket, slipping effortlessly back into the composed man who walked into the restaurant. 

"There."

Your hand flies instinctively to your shoulder.

"Oh, absolutely not."

Yunho catches your wrist before your fingers reach the mark. His mouth twitches.

"You did that."

"I think it suits you." 

You glare at him. He doesn't look remotely sorry. A quiet laugh rumbles in his chest as he leans in, pressing one last lingering kiss to your forehead.

"My beautiful girl."

The words settle warmly beneath your ribs.

"So now you'll fuck me in public," you murmur, "but I'm not allowed to hide the evidence?"

His smile is small. Unapologetic.

"No."

The answer is so simple, so certain, that your heart forgets how to beat for a second.

When you step back into the restaurant, Yunho reaches for your hand without hesitation. His fingers weave through yours naturally, like they've done it a thousand times before. Firm enough that you couldn't pull away if you wanted to. Gentle enough that it feels less like possession and more like certainty.

You barely make it a few steps before your free hand flies to your shoulder.

"This is awful."

A quiet laugh escapes him.

"You seemed very enthusiastic about it five minutes ago."

"Yunho."

His smile only deepens. You try to pull your hair over the marks blooming across your skin. Yunho simply brushes it back over your shoulder again, his fingertips lingering for the briefest second.

"Stop."

"No."

"They're going to see."

His eyes flick toward you, warm with something that makes your chest tighten.

"I know."

You stare at him. He doesn't elaborate. He doesn't need to. The meaning settles somewhere beneath your ribs before you can stop it. 

Then you see her. Still sitting at her table. Still talking to the people around her. Your entire body locks.

"No."

Yunho doesn't even slow down.

"No."

"Dove."

"I am not walking past her."

"You are."

"I'll die."

"You won't."

You make one last pathetic attempt to hide behind him, but he only chuckles softly, giving your hand a reassuring squeeze before lifting it between you. His lips brush across your knuckles. Your breath catches.

Before you can recover, he leans down and presses another absentminded kiss against your temple as you walk, the gesture so effortless it almost feels unconscious. Like this is simply what he does when you're together. Like loving you has become muscle memory.

The woman looks up. Recognition flashes across her face. Her eyes fall to your joined hands. To the kiss. To the way Yunho never once lets go of you. 

Heat rushes to your cheeks so quickly you're convinced the entire restaurant can feel it. But Yunho keeps walking as though nothing remarkable has happened, guiding you back to the table with the same calm confidence he'd walked in with an hour earlier.

This time, however, he pulls your chair out first.

His hand lingers briefly against the back of your seat before he walks around to his own, settling opposite you with infuriating composure.

You reach for your wine immediately. Desperately, because you need it. Bad.

"You never finished your risotto."

You blink over the rim of your glass.

"That's your concern right now?"

"It’s expensive."

You stare at him, waiting for the joke. It never comes. His mouth twitches just enough to betray him as he reaches for his own wine.

Around you, the restaurant carries on exactly as it had before. Cutlery clinks against porcelain. Conversations overlap. Someone laughs near the window. You're convinced every single one of them knows.

Yunho, meanwhile, opens the dessert menu as though the last twenty minutes never happened. He flips a page, the corners already beginning to curl beneath his fingers.

"So," he says, glancing up briefly. "Do we want the tiramisu?"

You swirl the last of your wine around your glass.

"Do we?"

His mouth twitches.

"Good point." He turns another page. "Chocolate soufflé?"

You don't answer. You simply keep looking at him. Long enough that he eventually lowers the menu, meeting your eyes over the edge of it.

"What?"

You tilt your head, pretending to consider the question.

"I kind of hate you."

A quiet smile pulls at one corner of his mouth. Small. Certain.

"No," he says. "You really don't."

You roll your eyes, but the warmth in your chest betrays you before your face can.

For the first time all evening, silence settles comfortably between you. No misunderstandings hiding beneath it. No sharp edges waiting to catch. Just the familiar quiet that has always belonged to the two of you.

You shift in your chair, wincing almost imperceptibly as the heels remind you how long you've been wearing them.

Yunho notices immediately. His eyes drop beneath the table for half a second before returning to your face.

"They're hurting."

It isn't a question. You sigh dramatically.

"A little."

Without another word, he extends one hand beneath the tablecloth, palm open.

"Give me your foot."

You eye him suspiciously.

"...Didn't we already establish that was a terrible idea?"

A slow smile appears at the corner of his mouth.

"Which is why I'm asking for your foot." His eyes meet yours. "Not your ideas." 

Heat creeps up your neck.

"Yunho."

"I'm choosing to believe you've learned from the experience."

You wisely keep your mouth shut. Judging by the look in his eyes, the only thing Yunho enjoys more than winning is watching you realize you've lost. 

His hand pats his thigh twice, waiting patiently. "Foot." 

You know that tone. The one that isn't asking because it already knows you'll give in. 

With an exaggerated sigh, you shift in your seat. One leg first, then the other. A moment later, both feet are on his lap. The movement is practiced. Unremarkable between you now, which is its own kind of problem.

"This time I'd like you to keep it above my knee."

You nearly choke on your wine.

"Yunho."

"Too soon?"

You can hear the smile in his voice long before you see it.

His hand settles around your ankle, thumb pressing slow circles into the sore skin. Then, almost absent-mindedly, his fingers find the tiny buckle fastening your heel.

You frown.

"...What are you doing?"

"Fixing the problem."

Before you can protest, he unfastens the delicate strap with practiced fingers, easing the shoe from your foot as carefully as though it were made of glass. He sets it beside his leg beneath the table, then repeats the motion with the other one.

The relief is immediate. A quiet breath escapes you before you can stop it. Yunho pretends not to notice.

He simply settles both of your bare feet across his lap again, one broad hand wrapping gently around your arches while his thumb works patiently at the muscles that have been aching since you left the apartment.

It's so automatic. So unceremonious. Like this isn't an act of devotion at all, just another item on the list of ways he takes care of you.

You watch him for a long moment. He doesn’t look up. That, more than anything, makes you smile.

“You’re being weird.”

"Hm?"

"You're... affectionate."

That earns you his attention. He looks up from the menu, genuinely considering the accusation.

“I’m always affectionate.”

You give him a look. 

"You are." You hesitate, searching for words that don't sound quite so vulnerable. "Just... not where people can see."

Something shifts in his expression. Because he's realizing you aren’t accusing him. You’re simply telling him how lonely you felt.

His hand stays on your ankle.

“Maybe I should’ve been.”

The words are quiet enough that no one else could hear them. They don't sound like an apology. They sound better than one.

Across the room, your eyes catch the woman for just a second. Her eyes dip beneath the table for just a moment, lingering where Yunho's hand rests around your ankle as though it's the most natural place in the world for it to be. 

For a heartbeat, you wait for the embarrassment to come. It doesn't. You look back at him instead.

"So. Chocolate soufflé then?" Yunho asks.

 "Get both," you murmur, nodding toward the menu.

His grin is immediate. "I was hoping you'd say that."

You laugh, shaking your head as his thumb absentmindedly traces another circle over your skin.

Dessert arrives a few minutes later. Your feet never leave his lap. Neither does his hand.

Conversation returns as though it had never been interrupted. Work. Travel. Which wine is better. Ordinary things. Comfortably ordinary.

And somewhere between the first spoonful of tiramisu and the last sip of wine, you realize the knot in your chest is gone. Not because the evening had been perfect. Because when it stopped being perfect, the two of you chose each other anyway.

masterlist

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© All rights reserved. Do not edit, or translate without permission.

[mingi-buffering-24-7]

i don't feel nearly as guilty about some of the choices i made in this fic anymore… this was very reassuring, actually

"i'm not a pervert 🙂"

sure...

[wooyungiee]

obsessed is an understatement

[gukcnt]

BACKSHOTS ✮ JJK

in which jungkook fucks his girlfriend raw in the middle of a performance because he's addicted to that pussy.

❪ PAIRING ❫ : idol bf!jungkook x gf!f.reader

❪ GENRE ❫ : established relationship au, porn with no plot, smut and fluff

❪ WARNINGS ❫ : 18+, explicit smut, semi public sex, quickie, rough sex, doggy style, unprotected sex, penetrative vaginal sex against the wall, praise kink, dirty talk and degradation, he calls her a slut, size difference, spanking, manhandling, lots of clit play, makeout, scratching, mentions of pain, creampie, slight overstimulation and orgasm control, he gives it to her hard, a little breeding kink, cum play, use of panties as a plug to keep the load in

❪ WC ❫ : 2.2k

❪ NOTE ❫ : couldn't help myself so i wrote a quick smut drabble cos i've been feral since watching jungkook perform in that jacket, i felt like you naughty girls deserved to join in on the fun so enjoy reading and wet dreams ! <33

「 MASTERLIST | READ ON WATTPAD 」

“wait for me baby, don't go anywhere.”

that was what your boyfriend jungkook had rasped two hours ago after kissing you breathless enough to leave your legs shaky and then he ran back onstage.

you stood just off the main stage, your heart pounding in your chest, feeling the sexual desire wafting between you both even though he was away giving all his energy and power to singing and dancing with his members.

but you only got the version of him no one else got or knew about, the one who glanced toward you between songs, eyes locking on yours with a hunger that had nothing to do with the performance.

it was as if he were giving his own personal sultry show to you instead of thousands of fans screaming his name.

you watched a droplet of sweat trace a line down the middle of his chest almost pornographically, like it begged for your tongue to lick it right off and you wanted to so badly.

now during the short break after one of their songs, jungkook jogged offstage for a quick towel and water, his denim jacket with nothing underneath parted to show off his sweat slick muscular body, his jeans low enough to show off the tiny hint of his calvin klein underwear.

he tossed the towel aside and made a beeline straight for you, ignoring the staff calling after him.

“fuck i've been thinking about you the whole time.”

his voice was husky from singing, a little breathless as well, he grabbed your wrist impatiently before you could even reply and pulled you deeper into the backstage down the corridor for more privacy.

“i can't focus when i know you're right there watching me.”

“jungkook the performance and the fans—”

you started but your protest melted into a gasp as he pushed you against the wall directly out of sight.

“they can handle the next song. i need you now.” he grumbles.

his eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust and with pent up energy that he wants to take out on you.

he spun you around without waiting, pressing your chest against the wall, his front molding to your back as you felt the hard line of his erection already straining against his jeans.

“it's been hard since i saw this tight little ass in those jeans.”

“kook...”

you whimpered at his words, your back already arching for him, your eyes growing half lidded.

“god i love it when you call me that.” he rushes out.

his hands moved fast before you could even catch a breath, yanking your jeans and your panties down your thigh in one rough tug.

you could hear the cheers of the crowd and the beat of the music still playing, everything made you both feel alive and the thrill that you both might get caught at any second, yet instead of stopping you it made you hornier, your pussy giving a twitch.

“shitt you're already wet.”

jungkook groaned low, one hand sliding between your legs to tease your folds, feeling the copious amounts of arousal you leaked.

his fingers were so skilled, always knowing how to find your clit like an expert and it makes you shudder each time as he circles your clit once twice before dipping inside just enough to make your knees buckle but not fully inside, just giving you a little taste of what's about to come.

“all this for me hmm? while i was out there dancing?”

you bit your lip hard, nodding frantically.

“yes kook p-please...” you panted.

he chuckled as he grabbed your hips, leaning down to nip at your earlobe.

“atta girl, keep quiet for me yeah? can't have them hearing how i fuck my baby backstage.”

he pulled the zipper down, freeing himself, his cock hard and throbbing hotly, precum already beading at the tip.

he rubbed it along your slit coating himself in your essence, letting out a string of curses at the warm feeling of you.

there was no time for foreplay and time was running by fast and he had to join everyone on the stage so he didn't wanna waste any time.

jungkook was big, always had been and each time he decided to impale you on his cock, it felt like the very first time even though the stretch had gotten familiar.

“ahh... yes…”

you let out a long relieved whine at the feeling of him coming home inside you as he pushed in slowly inch by inch, intentionally letting you feel every ridge and vein of his dick and how he twitches inside you.

“fuuuuck...”

he hissed through gritted teeth, forehead dropping to your shoulder as he felt your pussy clench on him, welcoming him inside with a wet hungry swallow like it'd been dying for him to be inside.

his one hand gripped your hip hard enough to bruise, the other hand on the wall above your head.

“so tight, always so fucking perfect for me.”

he growls and grunts like a madman and you respond with a moan of yours.

he bottomed out with a deep,manly noise and he watched with hooded eyes at the way your ass quivers.

the fullness was overwhelming, his cock buried deep and pressing against that spot inside you that made you see stars behind your eyelids.

for a second he just stayed there, breathing hard, both of you listening to the crowd outside, then he started moving and you were already a squirmy mess.

backshots or whatever they called it.

receiving that from him always turns your brain to mush and it felt like he was literally rearranging your insides.

hard, quick, yet rough thrusts that only happened when he was trying to make you cum fast and with each thrust from him, you rocked harder against the wall, your hand scrambling to grab onto something and not being able to help yourself, you gripped his hand tightly, your nails digging into it and the pain fueled him even more.

the angle was perfect and with every thrust he reached that special spot inside you.

his hips moved like a needle does on a sewing machine, your tongue lolls out lewdly, almost drooling in the mindless pleasure.

squelch. squelch. squelch.

obscene noises were made each time he pumped in and out and in and out, his heavy balls slapping against your clit, sending jolts through you.

each thrust made your breasts bounce under your top, nubs hard and aching against the fabric.

“listen to that!” he snarls.

“hear how wet you are? taking my cock so willingly while everyone out there thinks i'm just taking a break.”

you sobbed, trying to muffle it against your arm though it didn't do much help anyways.

“kook… faster p-please, i need—”

he didn't let you finish your words because he obliged instantly, picking up the pace, his hips slamming inside you.

the same control he used on stage now driving you into insanity.

sweat dripped from his hair and onto your back, his free hand snaked around you to rub your clit in a tight fast rubs, matching the brutal rhythm of his cock.

your lips remained perpetually parted, letting out little “uh uh uhs” with each of his thrusts, not having any control to hold yourself up, your body was held like a ragdoll with one of his arms alone.

“yeah uh huh? you like this?”

he asks, mockingly imitating one of your noises with a breathless chuckle.

“oh god..”

you mewled, not even processing his words enough to reply to him.

“answer me when i ask a question. tell me, do you like getting pounded like a secret slut while i'm supposed to be performing?”

he lets out an animalistic sound, his palm coming down to give a sharp spank on your butt cheek, most definitely leaving a red handprint there.

“nhnnmm ahh y-yes so good. i want more. i want more pleaseee.”

you choked out letting out quiet squeals, unable to keep up with his fucking while he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue, his head falling back, adam's apple bobbing as he swallowed.

“of course you want more, this pussy never gets enough does it huh? so greedy.”

he gives you a few more hard thrusts, his hips circling occasionally doing that grinding rhythm that makes your toes curl while you start fluttering hard around him as if trying to just trap him inside you forever.

“dammit you feel so good, g-gonna cum so hard inside you baby.”

he stutters, his brows furrowing.

the pressure was starting to build fast so fast, from the way he dominated you, from his words, the rush of adrenaline and everything else... it was too much yet so amazing at the same time.

you wanted more, more and more.

your head thrashed side to side as you felt like he'd just hit deep inside your stomach, your hand scratching red lines on his tattooed wrist.

“yes—yes—yes—”

you yelped, trembling uncontrollably as you felt so near to your orgasm.

“that's it cum on my cock, let me feel you.”

he starts pounding you, angling your hips, manhandling you so he's able to reach the depths inside you that you didn't even know existed.

his hand quickening on your clit, doing that side to side and up and down motions on your clit, he knows it drives you a little insane.

he knows that you love it when he plays around with that little sensitive button of yours.

when he decides to pinch it between two fingers and holding on while delivering sharp thrusts, did it finally break you.

you came with a loud scream that ended in a wail.

“hahhh!”

your pussy pulses around his pistoning length, milking him, making his pace falter at the heavenly feeling of you cumming around him.

but he soon picked back up, fucking you through it and chasing his own release while making your juices splash everywhere making a mess on the floor beneath you.

his breaths turned ragged, thrusts losing their rhythm as he got closer and closer.

thrust. thrust. thrust.

“gonna fill this cunt up baby ughh!”

he hisses, slapping his palm beside your head as he buried himself to the hilt and came.

“mmmph..”

you let out a pathetic muffled noise as hot spurts of his cum filled you to the brim, leaving so much of the white mess as he ground his hips slowly, murmuring expletives while pressing open mouthed kisses along your shoulder.

for a long moment you both just panted, bodies locked together, both of you throbbing in the same way with heartbeats racing together.

he didn't wanna leave you so soon or lose the feel of this sweet cunt wrapped around him that he was addicted to but time was almost up, he could hear the members getting ready and the staff calling for his name.

with a reluctant groan, he pulled out slowly with a grunt and an “ohh” leaves you from the empty incomplete feeling.

your pussy gaping right in front of his eyes, leaking his cum as if saying without words how much she misses him already, he had to force his eyes away or else he'd probably just cancel everything and throw you over his shoulder and take you back to the hotel.

he pulled you close pushing your panties and jeans up, smoothing over them while you squirmed at the sodden feeling but the way he held you tighter confirmed that this was exactly what he wanted.

“you okay?”

he asked, eyes searching yours with concern and cups your cheek.

you nodded, a wanton moan leaving you as he kissed you deeply, tongue tangling with yours, tasting your cherry chapstick and your natural taste that he knows by heart.

“i love you so much, i will be finishing the show as soon as possible and then i will take you back to the hotel to finish this properly, you get me yeah?”

he patted your clothed butt and you giggled even as your legs still trembled a bit as he leaned down to steal another kiss.

“i love you too, go kill the rest of the performance pretty boy.” you cooed.

he grinned at the praise, cheeks flushing, that bunny toothed smile breaking through the post sex haze which you adored so much.

he adjusted his earpiece and took a few steps forward but he paused and turned to look back at you.

“keep those panties on, i want my cum leaking out of you when i come back to you.”

he winks, wiping sweat from his brows and rushing back toward the stage as if nothing had happened and he hadn't just said the filthiest thing ever.

you leaned against the wall with a giddy laugh, catching your breath, feeling his cum slowly start to sweep into your panties.

you watched him rejoin his members and dance like he hadn't just ruined you backstage.

your beautiful man is glowing even more now.

but one thing he didn't forget to do every now and then was look back at you with that secret smirk.

the world wanted him, yet you had him all to yourself and you never felt more lucky.

he was yours and you were his, it was a forever kinda thing.

you watched his tongue trace his bottom lip while singing and watching you with bedroom eyes.

it was a promise of what was to come.

you knew the night was far from over.

you couldn't wait.

perm. taglist ❯❯❯ @gukdemonic @kskskskskskskskss @imjustcrabby @chelseaad @cupidsbling @jeonette @goldenjjksworld @mn1jungkook @dilflover008 @singularity4joon @sunkissedcheekss @yevataeia @kookstempo @ggukiebar @gld3en @yoongix7 @bethanyyuy @pinklemonsstuff @hainwhatever @elmarimochi9513 @httpjk7 @littleblue-pickle @mnimxrva @lohikook @coldfuzzylava @raechin-and-bloussiey @roselleroses @beaniestrash @jmscaffeine @mintedagustd @multimxa @furioustrashlover @sammywhammy1

© GUKCNT — all rights reserved. | divider by @/saccharinezennie

[yungistiny]

I’m gonna have to write something about him

[minkieater]

three’s company — smg & yjh ⭑.ᐟ

⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho ⭑ four days away at the beach, hiding your feelings from all of your friends while you’re all under the same roof, a week after yunho broke up with you and mingi. easy enough, right? ⭑ lots and lots of pinv, mxm, oral(m&f), edging, public play, bdsm dynamics (feel free to correct me on anything!! i tried to be accurate) praise, degradation, yunho being 3comp yunho. yes that's a warning in itself ⭑ part three of three / wc 36.5k ⭑ — holy shit i can't believe it's over. thank you to everyone who stuck with me through this, this series is my actual fucking baby. it brought so many eyes to my blog and led me to meeting so many wonderful amazing people, thank you so much if you're reading this, if you have read anything about my 3comp babies. no other series has taught me so much. nothing will ever mean as much as this. ⭑ — if you don't recognize my rortor or if haos confused you, pay my good friends a visit here <3 thank u @svgaplvm for letting my people hangout with yours <3

“You can’t seriously think this would ever work.”

You and Mingi haven’t moved an inch since he left for the bedroom. Now stood in front of you in cargo pants and the same dirty tee that was crumpled on your bed, it seems his anger hasn’t dissipated in the three minutes it took for him to get his things together. A bag thrown over his shoulder, jaw locked, eyes wide and wild like you’d just sentenced him to death, it seems very clear that Jeong Yunho wasn’t coming back here. 

“I was honest with you guys from the start,” his voice keeps its edge, “I told you what I look for in a relationship, what I want. There’s none of that here.”

Your teeth grit together, eyebrows slanted, fingers squeezing beneath your arms folded over your chest. “You’re overreacting,” you manage, heart running a marathon in your chest, ignoring the fact that his words hurt as you mask your feelings with a show of anger. 

“You two are together,” he points between you and your boyfriend with a finger. “I shouldn’t even be part of the equation. I let this go on too long, let it become too serious.”

“You think you’re the only one to blame?” Mingi surprises you with his words, the sharpness behind them, the glossiness in his eyes the only signal of sadness. “We thought we were already in a relationship, it’s all of our fault for not communicating.”

Yunho looks like he’s seen a ghost. “You– Are you serious?”

You nod, you thought it was obvious, “Yunho, we haven't been apart for more than twelve hours in weeks.”

He turns on his heel, “I can’t believe we’re even having this conversation.”

Mingi stands, following Yunho as he crosses your living room, “You’re just going to leave? You aren’t gonna talk this out?”

You watch from the couch, breathing deep into your lungs, ignoring how your eyes watered. Yunho turns around sharply, “What is there to talk about? We were fucking, and now we’re not. That’s it.”

You gasp from the couch, Mingi shrinks where he stands. Taking a step back, shaking his head, his voice is shaky as he says, “You don’t mean that.”

“I told you,” Yunho slips his feet into his shoes. “I’ve been honest from the start. If you took it more seriously, that’s on you. I’m sorry.”

Mingi’s arms fall to his sides as Yunho leaves through your front door, the heavy oak slamming shut behind him. Your heart breaks as Mingi’s head hangs low, his shoulders shaking, and it’s the sniff you hear from the couch that gets you on your feet, wrapping your arms around your boyfriend. 

“He’s just scared,” you whisper, tears lining your own eyes as Mingi racks a sob into your chest. “He’s just scared, Min. He’ll come around.”

His voice is wrecked, ragged and layered with grief, “I can’t believe he said all of that.”

“Me either,” you shake your head, tears slipping down your cheeks as you run your fingers through his hair, your other hand rubbing circles into his back. “It’s Yunho, we know how he is, especially with relationships.”

“I thought we were different,” Mingi picks his head up, pulling away from you to wipe his eyes. “I thought he was getting over his dramatic relationship block because of us.” He sniffs, then speaks through another sob, his voice cracking, “I thought he loved us, too.”

“You love him?” Your eyes widen, hands landing on his shoulders, and he nods without hesitation. “Shit,” you mutter under your breath, eyes screwing shut in an attempt to get your mind to bypass the shock so you can think. 

“Don’t you?” Mingi asks, his voice small, like if you said no he might crack entirely.

His laugh crossed your mind first. Eyes squeezed to crescents, grin spread wide, head tipping back as the most beautiful sound left his lips, you always got lost in him when he laughed. A hearty chuckle or a small giggle, when Yunho was emitting nothing but pure joy… Yeah, you loved him. 

You loved how he walked closest to the street, how he already had your order memorized at the cafe around the corner. You loved how he touched you, soft and delicate, how he complimented you every time he saw you. You loved that he wasn’t afraid to say the hard things, like telling you that you snore, or that this time your boss was in the right. You loved that he kept small pieces of you close in the years of knowing you, how he revealed his knowledge of you in the past month, how he wasn’t afraid to show his passion. 

You loved him, and you fucking knew he loved you back. 

“Yeah,” your nod isn’t immediate. “I think I do.”

Mingi’s lip quivers, “We’re just gonna let him leave?”

“We’re adults,” your voice is shakier than you need it to be, forever the rock holding Mingi’s hurricane. “He’s an adult. If he wants us, this, he’ll come back.”

Mingi shakes his head profusely, taking a step back from you, “If we love him then we fight for him, I’m not waiting around while he thinks this is over.”

Your lips curve upward, the most Mingi thing he’s ever said, “We’ll be with him for four days at the beach. Let him sit in the hole he’s dug himself in, let him miss us for a few days.”

Mingi looks at you like you’re speaking another language, “He probably won’t even look at us while we’re at the beach if we wait until then.”

“If we love him,” you step closer to him. “Then chances are he loves us, too. Let him take the time he needs to realize it.”

Mingi takes a heavy breath, thinking about who Yunho is, how he handles situations. With poise, consideration, vigilance. He thinks of all outcomes, all strategies, Yunho thinks of everything with his mind, and not always his heart. Mingi nods, because he hopes that just this once, he’ll think with his heart, and figure out the rest later. 

Yunho hasn’t called.  Not a text, not a word, not a breath. 

But you were on your way to Haos– and from Wooyoung’s call this morning, asking what time to pick you up, you found out that he’d talked to Yunho just before he called you, and he was still coming to the beach. A shred of relief washed over you as the words left his mouth, it couldn’t be that bad if he was still coming to the beach, four days spent in proximity with you and your boyfriend. And your ten other friends. Right?

“Do you want to stop at the convenience store for anything? Water, coffee, a snack?” Wooyoung asks from the driver’s seat, black hair shagged over his ears, his forehead, curling at the nape of his neck. 

Sana groans from the seat beside you, “Can we just go straight there? I’m itching to be on the beach with a drink in my hand.” Dressed in jeans and a strappy tank, heels on her feet, curled dark locks framing her cheekbones, she looked like she was going to the club rather than traveling for a vacation. Being eight in the morning, you looked like you just rolled out of bed. 

Mainly because you did. 

“I wasn’t just asking you, San,” Wooyoung cuts from the front of the black rental he drove. “We’ve been driving for an hour already.”

“Which means we should only have ten more minutes in the car if you just drive,” she bites back, rolling her eyes. She gives you a look, shaking her head as if Woo was asking the stupidest question in the world. She whispers to you, “He should have asked an hour ago.” 

You smile at her instead of giving her an answer, redirecting your gaze to the top of Mingi’s head that peeks over the headrest of the passenger seat. After spending some time away from her, you thought you’d at least be a little excited to see her, but alas, she still drives you up a fucking wall. You could have gone longer. 

You lean your head against the window for the last ten minutes, listening to soft rock music with your eyes glued to the intricate, tall houses along the coast, the small shops, the ice cream parlors, everything about this place screaming beach. Summer. Rich summer. You were still excited to come here, drama aside, spending time with your friends, cozying up in one of San’s queen-sized beds in one of his several bedrooms. You loved his house, the feeling it gave you, how badly you’d like to own something like it one day. 

You didn’t mind four days of pretending it was yours, nor did you mind laying on the beach, a drink in your hand. Maybe you’d shove your feelings aside and stay glued to Sana all weekend. 

Finally pulling up on a rocky driveway, you pull your eyes away from the beach just beside it, taking in the cream-colored fucking mansion before you. Ridiculous architecture, a two-car garage, a double main staircase, several balconies and a fenced rooftop, what always took your breath away was the windows. So much light poured into the house, salt scented air rushing through the space when the countless pairs of double doors opened, this house screamed happiness. It screamed carefree.

You let the feeling fill you, let it take a weight off your chest as you stretch your body upon leaving the backseat. Whatever happened this weekend, you’d accept. However you and Mingi returned home, with or without another boyfriend, you’d be okay. Both of you. 

You took a look around the driveway as Wooyoung and Mingi went into the trunk to grab all of your luggage. You and Mingi shared one, but Sana… She had two for herself, she bragged about it as soon as you opened the car door. 

Three other cars sat in the driveway. You recognized Yeosang’s, Jongho’s, Seonghwa’s, you assumed San and Jongin’s cars were in the garage. No sign of Yunho’s car. 

Mingi carried your luggage in behind you, you didn’t knock as you walked through San’s front door, nor did you have time to appreciate the creams, whites and blues stretching across the inside, because the only other person in the living room when you walked inside was Yunho. 

Your jaw clenched as your eyes slid over the back of him, faced away from you as he scrolled on his phone.

“Honey, I’m home!” Wooyoung yelled from behind you, and his voice echoed through the archways of the main floor, bouncing off each perfectly staged wall, the balcony above you. 

Yunho snapped around, meeting your eye, and he immediately stiffened. With one of his infamous linen sets on, barefoot and his hair swept back, you had to stop yourself from muttering damn under your breath. You loved when he looked like summer, but you also loved when he looked like winter, when he needed the comfort of fleece to keep him warm. Maybe you loved Yunho in anything. 

You looked away fast, turning to face Mingi who was already staring over your head, at his best friend who had undoubtedly become something more. Mingi stared at him with hope, with an unanswered question, with so much fucking love in his eyes you felt the cracking of your heart in your chest. 

“Finally!” You heard San before you saw him, shirtless and in swim trunks, body tanned and golden and sculpted by God himself. He wore a wide grin, Jongin following behind him, his boyfriend just as gorgeous as he is, taller and handsome and damn, just as sculpted. 

San pulls Wooyoung into a tight hug, “I missed you, man. It’s been too long.” 

“It’s barely been a month,” Wooyoung chuckles. “But yeah, too long.” 

Sana’s heels click against the pale hardwood as Jongin pulls her into a hug, the two men exchanging with the couple as you and Mingi attempt to ignore the elephant in the room only visible to the two of you. 

Wooyoung pulls Yunho into a hug as you and Mingi share exchanges with San and Jongin, just as the others start piling into the living room. 

“We’ve been waiting for you guys!” Tzuyu squeals as she enters your view, and you’re immediately pulled into all the women of the house, sharing hugs and kisses on the cheek. 

“I can’t believe we’re the last ones here,” you’re smiling, warmth filling your chest as you bathe in everyone’s excitement. 

Jihyo smirks, “Late because you were getting frisky?” 

You roll your eyes, heat warming your cheeks, “You need to let go of that. Like, now.” 

“Frisky?” Tzuyu pops a brow. “Fill me in.” 

“I went over her and Mingi’s place and saw a vib—”

“Okay!” You speak over her, hands ready to clamp over her mouth, and she winks at Tzuyu in a silent promise to fill her in later. You prayed it didn’t include Yunho’s name. 

“Who has which room?” Sana asks loudly, speaking over everyone in the midst of conversation. 

“We were waiting for you to decide, princess,” Seonghwa replies, voice smooth, a snarky remark hidden behind a beautiful smile. Your lips curl upward when you see him, stood tall next to his boyfriend, Seonghwa’s open shirt matched Hongjoong’s shorts. 

“Jongin and I have the master,” San says. “There’s five other bedrooms, one has a pull-out futon.” 

“Assuming I’m on the futon,” Yunho immediately adds, his voice flat. “Since I’m the only single one here.” 

Your eyes flicker between the two, heart thumping against your chest, stomach feeling sick at hearing him say he’s single. 

“You would have been fucked if you brought a date,” San's smile is anything but sheepish. “But I’m sure no one will mind if you crash their room, maybe one of the girlies are out of commission for sexual activity and it won’t matter.” 

Jongin smacks his chest with a disgusted look, but San giggles to himself. You look around the room and all the girls fall quiet, all the guys stay quiet, too used to San and his remarks to feed him a reaction. 

“He can room with you and Mingi,” Jihyo nudges your shoulder from beside you,.“Duh. You guys are super close, anyways, just kick him out when you wanna fuck.” 

“We aren’t twenty years old, Ji,” you muster. “We can go a few days without fucking.” 

You look up at Mingi and you can tell he’s teetering on the edge of losing his shit. You turn to Yunho and he looks like that’s the last thing he wants. Seeing his face, the clear dislike of the idea, imagining the thoughts racing through his mind, all of it combined makes you slap a smile on your face, “Yeah, that’s fine. We’ll take him.” 

“Hope you left the hitachi at home,” Jihyo whispers in your ear, winking. You nudge her back, forcing the smile to stay on your face— no one has any idea of what you’ve gone through the last few days. What happened. What started it in the first place. 

“Perfect!” San claps his hands together. “That was easy. Go unpack your shit and then we can go to the beach.” 

Mingi is at your side as soon as everyone takes a step toward the staircase, voice a low growl in your ear, “Why did you do that?” 

You whisper back, “It’ll be fine.” 

You didn’t know if it would be fine. 

“Three bedrooms on the second floor, two on the top, master is on the main floor. You guys can figure out which rooms yourselves,” San says from the base of the steps as you all make your way up, your shoes hitting the hardwood in chorus, everyone dragging their belongings behind them. 

Yunho stays close behind you and Mingi as you check each room in search of yours, taking in the detail of the hallways, where the bathrooms were. The paintings on the walls, tables with vases, starfish, framed pictures of small sayings of wordplays with the word beach, you made sure to take in everything, let it fill you with ease, you were on vacation. 

You wouldn’t let Yunho ruin it. 

On the third floor, Jihyo and Jongho peeled off into a room at the beginning of the hallway, a bathroom and two closets between you as yours lived at the end. A queen-sized bed, a couch along the wall that pulled out to a bed, the room was decently sized. Cozy, with its balcony attached, white covering the walls, the bedspread and couch a pale blue. 

Mingi threw your suitcase onto the bed as Yunho threw his duffle bag onto the couch. The air was tense, heavy, you could hear conversation downstairs, Jihyo and Jongho unpacking just down the hall. There was no sound coming from your room other than zippers sliding and clothes being shuffled. 

You stood opposite Mingi on either side of the bed as he sorted through the suitcase, zeroed in on his hands as he separated the clothes you were hanging from the ones going into drawers. With your bottom lip tucked between your teeth, you stood focused, yet thinking of nothing as your ears rang, buzzing beneath the heaviness of silence. 

What was he thinking right now? 

Your eyes flickered to him as he pulled clothes out of his duffel bag, folding them along the couch, laying out the clothes he was hanging up, keeping his toiletries separate. Your gaze fell on his shoulders, broad and muscular beneath the linen he wore, the length of his legs stretching to the floor beneath him, bare feet pressed against hardwood, stepping to the side to fold another tee along the cushion. 

You turn your attention back to Mingi, shaking off the discomfort as you grab the clothes to hang up, heading for the closet next to the couch. You lay the clothes over the armrest, hanging up tops, Mingi’s favorite pair of nice pants, the dress you brought to wear to the bar on Saturday. You think that’s the only time you were going out all weekend other than to small shops around the town. 

The last shirt you had to hang, one of Mingi’s, you knew you grabbed it from the stack of clothes on the bed, but it wasn’t splayed out on the couch beside you. Brows furrowed, you turned on your heel to check the bed, just for Yunho to be stood at your side, holding the shirt out for you while he had his own stack of clothes folded over his forearm. 

You swallowed, avoiding his eye, “Thanks.” 

Grabbing the shirt from his hand, your fingers brushed against each other, the feeling of his skin on yours no matter how small immediately sent a jolt of electricity up your forearm, into your shoulder. You were quick to hang up the last shirt, moving out of his way, back to where Mingi was before the dresser. 

While he laid folded clothes, pajamas, boxers and panties into separate drawers, you grabbed your bikinis, his swim shorts, cover-ups and the singular bra you brought to help him. The room still silent, suffocating with everything left unsaid, you began laying out your toiletries along the top of the dresser. 

You could feel his eyes. Lifting your gaze, meeting his stare through the mirror, you shuffled to the side as he sauntered up next to you, throwing his own clothes into the rest of the empty drawers. 

God, is this what the rest of the week was gonna be like? If so, fuck that, he can sleep on the couch. Downstairs. Far away from you and Mingi so you can enjoy this room and its balcony all to yourself. 

“Hey!” Tzuyu gleamed, knocking on the doorframe at the same time as she spoke. You jumped a foot in the air, hand clasping your chest, a gasp escaping your chest. She giggles, long brown hair in a braid over one shoulder, bikini already on her body. “Yeosang and I are going to the liquor store before we head down to the beach, want anything?” 

“Uh,” you glance up at Mingi, trying to find words. “Tequila, beer, some kind of seltzer to sip on. The usual shit.” 

She nods, “Same beer as always, right?” 

“Please,” Mingi nods back, giving her a smile that she would never know wasn’t real. 

Your stomach fucking aches. You could push your pain aside, but when it comes to Mingi, seeing him hurt in real time, you could feel it as if he shared it with you. Your jaw locks, you could not go the whole week like this. 

Tzuyu peeks her head back in, “You should get ready, we’ll be back in ten.” 

“Got it,” you smile, and when she bounces out of your room again, it drops. You needed to do something. You rack your brain as you zip the suitcase closed, shoving it beneath the bed, sitting on the edge of the mattress. 

Yunho was pretending. He was forcing a mindset on himself, ignoring his feelings for you and Mingi, he was putting on a show that he didn’t mean. In his head, he was protecting himself, or maybe he was protecting you two from getting hurt, of what could go wrong in the future. 

You glance up at Mingi who stood leaned up against the dresser, on his phone. You glance over at Yunho who sits on the couch, on his phone. Just because he was acting like he doesn’t love you, doesn’t mean that he believes it. 

Your eyes land on Mingi again, holding them there. He looks up from his phone, meeting your stare. 

Your lips curve upward. I’m gonna do something crazy.  He pops an eyebrow, lips crinkling. Oh no.  Your smile grows, eyes flashing something dangerous. You gotta trust me on this one.  Mingi nods, face still wary. I always trust you. 

You push yourself up off the bed to the dresser, opening one of the drawers, pulling out one of your bikinis from the bottom. You should really thank Jihyo for even putting it in your mind that you should wear one of your college bikinis— so small and skimpy it could barely be considered anything other than string, you funneled confidence into your veins. You wouldn’t care about how you looked after a drink or two, anyways. 

Your eyes meet Mingi’s through the mirror, bikini in your hands. Are you picking up what I’m putting down? Mingi shoots you a silent laugh. You’re fucking nuts.  You stick your tongue out. You love it.  Mingi licks his lips. I love you, and that bikini.  You hold his eyes through the mirror. Remember what I said, trust me. 

Letting your eyes dance over Yunho once more, you lay the bikini out over the dresser, and then pull your shirt over your head in one quick motion. 

“Shiiit,” Mingi mutters under his breath, long and dragged out from the bed, purposely loud enough for Yunho to hear. His eyes pick up, seeing you through the mirror, eyes catching on you shimmying your shorts down your legs, then your panties. 

You don’t let your gaze linger, pulling the bottoms up your legs, then tying the top around your back. “Min, can you tie me?” 

He’s at your back in an instant, letting his hands dance along your waist before settling at the back of your neck, bikini strings between his fingers. You’re smiling at each other through the mirror and it’s then that you know he understands what’s going through your mind, the plan you cooked up just a minute ago. 

His hands settle on your hips after he finishes tying your top, and both of your eyes slide to Yunho, catching him just as he looks back down at his phone, fingers pressed to his forehead. You smirk at Mingi through the mirror, wondering if maybe you pushed Yunho just a little harder, could you crack the shell of his facade?

Yunho’s never been a huge fan of the beach. He burns easily, sand gets between his toes, in places he simply can’t reach, he hates how his hair looks after being in the breezy, salty air for too long. He’s been excited to come to Haos despite it, to spend time with you and Mingi away from home, but he didn’t give it enough thought to really consider the logistics of it all. 

To himself, he thought it easy: Around everyone else, you and Mingi would be your usual selves, madly in love for the world to see. At the end of the night, behind closed doors, where no one could hear you or see you, that’s when he’d have his way with you both. He’d be lying to himself if he said he wasn’t excited for that most of all. 

Forcing you into submission, into silence in the dead of night, so the whole house couldn’t hear the whiney moans that leave Mingi’s mouth when Yunho takes him, or the shrill screams that Yunho pulls from your chest when he pushes you just a little too far. It’d be fun— that was fun to him, keeping the two of you hidden away, his two nasty little secrets. No one had to know. 

Because if they did, if anyone knew anything, it’d break your perfect bubble. He’d be forced to admit that he hated the idea of not being able to touch you in public, not being able to kiss you, or even flirt with you. Either of you. Which opens another question, one Yunho wasn’t willing to answer, or give any more of his attention. 

Luckily, it blew up in his face before he had the chance to worry about it too much, like it has a hundred times before with plenty of different partners. This was the routine— fuck for awhile, become a little more on accident, realize that this isn’t what he wants, leave. Leave, leave, leave. Yunho was good at leaving, at hiding, at not taking what he wants when it’s staring at him in the face. 

It was too fucking vulnerable. He ached for love, for true routine, to wake up next to someone and go grocery shopping on Sunday mornings. He yearned for someone to know him down to his core, to love him for the silly things, not just how he fucked or how he guided. For how much he needed to take care of his partners, he never realized how much he needed to be taken care of, too. 

This morning, how you stared at him with a locked jaw, a storm in your eyes, he knew he deserved it. He deserved your anger, your pain, he wishes he could take it from you and keep it for himself. How Mingi looked at him, with pain and love and hope, seeing Mingi’s feelings raw in his eyes terrified Yunho. Knowing Mingi hurt, that he was the cause of his ache but also knowing he’d take him back in a second, it sent a shiver down his spine, leaving a hole too deep, too cold in his gut. 

He really fucked up this time. He really, seriously, absolutely fucked up. He's fallen asleep cuddled up to your side, he’s woken up beside you for weeks. He’s gone grocery shopping with you, he keeps a mental list of everything you have in your house. You made space for him in your home, for his body and his clothes, he has a toothbrush beside your sink, products in your shower, socks in the top drawer of Mingi’s dresser. He’s felt the rush of affection when Mingi finishes his sentence, he’s felt the pain sitting in the crease of your brow without it having anything to do with him. 

He walked into what he was most afraid of, but what he’s yearned for without even realizing. Everything happened so fucking fast. That night with Mingi was the true beginning, he thinks, the catalyst that made him fall headfirst without casting a net. That night changed all of your boundaries, leaving everything in open field for the taking. Yunho took it with greedy hands, but then he destroyed it all the same. 

He knows what you’re thinking. In that pretty little head of yours there’s millions of beautiful, strategic thoughts, plans, ways to get him back in your bed. Even though he fucked up. Even though he was the one that destroyed it all. 

The curve of your chest in the mirror, a peek of the goldmine between your legs as you bent over, if this was a week ago he would have pinned your chest to the glass and fucked you until you were crying just for teasing him. Mingi’s hands trailing down your skin, his breath on the back of your neck, jealousy infested Yunho like a disease. He could feel the ghost of Mingi’s hands on his body, on his chest, his abdomen, his torso, he forced himself to tear his eyes away so he didn’t break. 

Yunho was the one who fucked it all up, and here you two were, trying to get him to fix it. Naive and optimistic, two traits that you two shared that made Yunho feel like he was your missing piece. He wouldn’t break so easily, you two have to know that, you know him. 

He watches you run across the sand, wet chest bouncing beneath golden sunrays with a can grasped in your palm. Mingi follows you from the water, trunks slick to his thighs, the inseam of his shorts shorter than any other pair he owned. Yunho sits with his jaw locked, his fingers curled around the armrests of the beach chair beneath the umbrella, watching as Mingi picks you up from behind, a grin on his lips as he presses them to your cheek. 

You two didn’t do PDA. You haven’t since you were in your early twenties, when your relationship just began. Everyone in the group knows it, but no one notices, no one pays any mind to the clear show you were putting on just for him. Mingi’s arm is hooked around your torso, black hair clinging to his cheeks, his neck, the two of you dripping in saltwater and love. He keeps you there, hanging off his arm as he walks back up to where you set up, your giggles becoming clearer, reminding him of his favorite song the closer you get.  

He could just get up and go back inside. The beach was San’s backyard, after all. 

“Can you hand me another seltzer, please?” You ask sweetly as soon as Mingi puts your feet back on the ground. Yunho blinks beneath his shades before the question registers in his mind, it’s the first that you’ve spoken to him other than thanks in the bedroom. 

He reaches into the cooler, making sure to hand you your favorite flavor, feeling bile rise up in his throat when Mingi opens it for you and plants a kiss on your lips before you take a sip. Maybe he had it all wrong— maybe you didn’t fucking care that Yunho was no longer apart of your relationship. Maybe, in some sick, twisted way, what happened just a few days ago made your relationship stronger. Seems about right for the two of you. 

“Let’s play volleyball!” Wooyoung shouts over the hum of soft rock music and waves in his ear. He forces his eyes away from you two to glance at Wooyoung, holding a volleyball to his chest while beads of sweat drip down his bronzed, tanned skin. 

“Hell no,” Sana responds from her towel, laying on her stomach with a bucket filled with God knows what kind of liquor in the sand just above her head. “We’re relaxing.” 

“I meant the guys,” Wooyoung replies, the smile on his cheeks never faltering, ignoring his girlfriends’ tone completely. He wiggles his eyebrows at Yunho, “You up for it? A little friendly game?” 

“I’m out,” Hongjoong responds from his chair, can of beer in his hand, head laid back along the headrest beneath the shade of the umbrella, “I just ate a gummy.” 

“I’m out, too,” Yeosang lifts his head from his towel, Tzuyu at his side, the two of them cuddled up so close under the burning sun he wondered how they weren’t suffocating. 

“I’m going to swim,” Jongin waves a hand, already turning his heel to walk down to the shore. 

“I’m down,” Yunho says, needing a break from staring, standing from his chair. 

“I’m down, too,” Mingi adds as if on command, pressing another kiss to your lips before walking towards where Wooyoung stood behind Yunho. 

San, Jongho and Seonghwa make their way towards them, too, and Yunho quickly regrets his decision when Mingi stops directly at his side. He stiffens, eyes glancing down to where Mingi’s hand lingers inches beside his. 

“Three versus three then?” San smirks as the six of them make their way towards the net across the beach. “I call Woo and Mingi on my team.” 

Jongho breaks into a laugh as he leans on the pole beside the net, fingers sinking into the webbing, “So it’s me, Hwa and Yunho?”

“I think that’s fair,” San shrugs. “We share the towers.”

Yunho rolls his eyes, and Mingi’s smile is wide. Seonghwa dips under the net to the other side of the sandy court, “They’re both competitive, too. Think it’s best we share.” 

“We can hear you, y’know,” Yunho follows, sliding into position flanking Jongho’s side, a grin crawling over his cheeks that was nothing short of competitive. “No need to fight over us.” 

“First team to twenty,” Wooyoung juts out his chin from the other side of the net, “Best out of three?”

Yunho pushes out an accidental sigh, “Three games?” 

Mingi, like he’d been waiting for that comment, snaps. “Why not?” He cocks his head to the side, smile dangerous. “Three games too much of a commitment for you?” 

The blood from Yunho’s face drains, the amusement in his eyes gone. After Yunho’s face falls, Mingi giggles, and the rest of the guys seem completely unaware of the jab that just left Mingi’s mouth. Yunho glares at him, knowing now that the two of you are serious about getting under his skin, but he chooses to ignore the shred of pride he feels with your efforts. 

The first game went by quickly— Mingi, San and Wooyoung were good. Yunho, Seonghwa and Jongho were good, too, but fell just short of their opponents. The second game went by just as fast, but instead this time it seemed Yunho’s team had a chip on their shoulder, a little too much pride to let their friends win twice. The third game, everyone was drenched in sweat, covered in sand from diving for the ball, forearms burning from bumping it, everyone’s patience was running thin. Curses were shouted, insults thrown from one side of the net to the other, they had gotten serious real quick. 

Mingi and Yunho stood at either side of the net, eyes on the ball above their heads, the two of them jumping at the same time to either spike, or block. The ball fell on Mingi’s side and his eyes dropped for a millisecond to see Yunho, both hands up, palms flat out to block his spike. 

Yunho, ambition living in the slant of his brows, tongue peeking between his lips, didn’t give Mingi an opening to push the ball through. So Mingi hit it to the side, just past Yunho’s hands before he could even think of sliding his arms over. 

Yunho cursed, and Mingi’s arms went over his head in a cheer for winning them one more point towards victory. Mingi leaned in close to the net, a smirk on his lips, “Pay attention, Yun. You don’t want me thinking I’m distracting you, do you?” 

Yunho’s jaw locks. Mingi was pushing it, he usually wasn’t the bratty one, that was your area of expertise. 

“Careful,” is all he says, venom on his tongue as his chin tips upward, just to stare down at Mingi through lowered brows. 

Mingi’s smirk grows, almost a full smile, fingers hooking into the net to lean closer. “Or what?” 

Yunho licks his bottom lip, shaking his head as he turns around, back to where he stood, waiting for the ball to be served. Maybe he was stupid for considering you two didn’t care about him, especially after the bedroom, and now he had Mingi taunting him ten feet away? 

The ball hits the sand beside his foot before he can process that it was served. Mingi, San and Wooyoung high five, cheering because they were one point away from winning, and Yunho’s teammates turn to him with a scowl. 

“What are you doing?” Seonghwa stands with his arms out beside him, face warped into annoyance and confusion. 

Jongho barks from beside him, “Lock the fuck in, we’re winning this.” 

Yunho nods, shaking off his thoughts, “My bad.” 

Then Mingi calls your name. Yunho’s head turns, watching as you turn your head from where you stood with a group of girls that weren’t a part of your group, staring as you jogged towards them when Mingi ushered you over. 

That fucking bikini, all string, barely covering anything. His fists clenched when the house hooted and hollered for you, as Jihyo whistled when she saw you. It wasn’t for you. It wasn’t for Mingi. It was revenge. 

His neck snaps back to the court before him when he hears San’s hand smack the ball, body moving before his brain can think, diving into the sand to bump it up. Jongho is quick to get under it, two hands setting the ball high in the air, but as Seonghwa jumps to smack it over the net, Mingi is already there. 

Broad, sculpted abdomen, hard chest he’s rested his head on too many times, hipbones peeking from just above his waistband. Yunho watches Mingi’s arms flex as he blocks the ball, how his torso folds to send the ball into the sand, Yunho nearly shoves his face in the sand too when his three best friends jump for joy across the net. 

Seonghwa and Jongho stand defeated, faces set toward the sun, chests heaving. Yunho gets up slowly, just to see you perched on Mingi, arms and legs hooked around his body, lips pressed to his. Mingi’s hands hold you up by your thighs, fingers making indents where they pressed into your skin, and it’s war for Yunho to peel his eyes away from the sight. 

“Sorry,” Yunho runs a hand through his hair, keeping his eyes on the sand as he walks toward Seonghwa and Jongho. 

Jongho clasps a hand on his shoulder, heavy but reassuring, “It’s just volleyball. We’ll beat ‘em tomorrow.” 

Seonghwa nods his agreement, and at least one weight is lifted off his chest. He watches his friends duck under the net, and Yunho follows, ready to get berated by his three other friends, good sportsmanship be damned. 

“This is my boyfriend,” he hears, and his eyes land on where you stood with Mingi, just beside the court with the two girls you were standing with before. One a grinning dirty blonde, the other a miserable-looking brunette, Yunho tried to listen as his friends spoke beside him, but jealousy pierced his soul that Mingi was the only one standing beside you, getting introduced as yours. 

His feet moved before he could think about it, coming up to your side, and the blonde caught his eye, looking him up and down as he made his way over. You beamed, not showing a flash of surprise or confusion as Yunho stood beside you, you immediately gushed, “This is Yunho, he’s single, super tall, clearly.” You giggled, leaning into Yunho’s side, you were drunk. You whispered not quietly to the blonde, “I think you’d like him.” 

Yunho’s eyebrows furrowed, weight hitting his gut with force, and the blonde before him blushed as her hands gripped the cocktail between fingers, her eyes dragging over him again. 

The brunette, eyebrows low, stares at Mingi before her, “You look really familiar.” 

Your hand clings to his, wrapping your fingers into your boyfriends, shoulders pushed back, no one would know you were standing your ground unless they knew you. Mingi laughs along, “Really? You kind of do, too.” 

“Do you have any relatives that go to Nasara?” She cocks her head to the side, “We’re in ITZ, a sorority at Nasara University in Delo.” 

Mingi shakes his head, then turns it to look at Yunho, “Do you?” 

Yunho shakes his head, shrugging his shoulders, she does look familiar. Yunho asks, “Has anyone ever told you that you look like Sitara Song?” 

The brunette makes a tch noise, then grabs the blonde’s hand, voice dripping in irritation, “Come on, Ror, I’m sure Wooyoung is missing you.” 

The blonde looks back at him twice as the brunette drags her away, and Yunho feels unsettled. Not only are you making a show with Mingi in front of his face, taunting him, but now you’re pimping him out to strangers? 

Mingi’s eyebrows are knitted together as they walk away, “They have an Wooyoung, too?” 

Yunho faces the two of you with his arms crossed, “What the fuck are you doing?” 

You’re already smiling, mischief in your eyes, “What do you mean?”

If the three of you were at home… 

“What was that?” He asks, a hand stretching in the direction of the two girls walking away. 

You giggle, back pressing into Mingi’s abdomen, “Was I wrong? You are single, aren’t you?” 

Yunho laughs a low, disbelieving chuckle. He turns on his heel, past the court, back to where you set up, sitting back in the chair he was sulking in before. He reaches into the cooler, pulling out a can of beer. If this was how the weekend was going to be, he might as well be drunk for it, too. 

Clean and close to sober, your hair was still wet after your shower as you sat around the bonfire, sweats on your body, under a blanket on the sand. Even in Haos the beach was cold at night, a sharp breeze ruffling everyone’s hair, egging the fire to blaze higher. 

Yunho barely looked at either of you during dinner. Lounged out on the back balcony after grilling, he laughed along with everyone, cracking jokes and engaging in banter, but he shut you and Mingi out. After his second beer it was as if he put a wall up, he was choosing to not let the two of you bother him, not that you had much to bother him with after the beach. 

Fear lived in all your joints that you took everything too far as you sat cuddled up to Mingi, head on his shoulder. With Yunho on your other side, you tried not to let your eyes slide to him, despite his closeness. Even mad, even apart you still drifted together, you try to let the thought relieve you, but you’re too tightly wound to let anything but his hands steady your heart in your chest. 

You missed the way Yunho doesn’t see your fear. Instead, all his tunnel vision allows is the way your arms lay over Mingi’s, the way you melt against your boyfriend, how comfortable Mingi looks with your body touching his. You don’t see his frustration, how his mind whirls a mile a minute in yearning to have any part of you two touching him, too. 

“You guys must have needed a vacation,” Hongjoong declared from across the fire, the growing blaze making his orange hair burn brighter, white teeth still shining despite the warmth laying over all of you. 

You smile, and Mingi agrees in a small noise from beside you. San perks up in a chuckle, “I haven’t seen you two act like that in years. There’s really never any trouble in paradise, huh?” 

Mingi snorts, and you close your eyes with a smile on your lips. If only they knew what trouble was terrorizing your paradise right now. 

Jihyo cracks a laugh, holding up a hand like she just remembered something hilarious, “No, can you guys remember the beginning? When they couldn’t keep their hands off each other?” 

Your cheeks burn as the group laughs around the fire, a chorus of amusement and remembrance. Jihyo continues, laughter still erupting from her chest, breaking up her words, “I miss when we still had true house parties, I remember catching you guys in Yeosang’s garage.” 

Mingi tips his head back with a groan at the memory, you remembered it like it was yesterday, he had you lifted on Yeosang’s father’s workbench, tools covering the space around you. Luckily, Jihyo didn’t see your legs spread for him, or his fingers hooked inside you. Your cheeks blaze hotter than the fire before you. 

“That’s not the only time, either,” Jihyo’s leaning forward now, cocktail in her hands threatening to spill over the blanket on her lap. 

San interjects, laughing himself, “I think we’ve all caught them once or twice throughout the years.” 

Wooyoung frowns, “At least none of you have caught them in your own bedroom. That’s worse, trust me.”

Your hand covers your face, digging your forehead into Mingi’s shoulder as he laughs along, muttering Enough in a low voice. The reason you weren’t as open with your relationship anymore was being laughed about in a circle, filling your gut with embarrassment and shame, Mingi felt it. 

You couldn’t see Yunho’s fists clenched at his sides, digging into the blanket above the sand. He tries to laugh along, he has a few stories he could tell himself, but he’s ruined them all with thoughts of what those memories would look like if he was included in them, too. He feels weird inside. Knowing it would always be you two, as it’s always been, but feeling so fucking frustrated that he isn’t included, as if two halves of him were fist fighting just beneath his skin. 

“My bad, today just reminded me of back then,” San waves a hand, a warm smile on his lips, showing his dimples. “I’m happy to see it. I’ve missed when you were attached at the hip.” 

“I was starting to get worried that you guys were chilling out too much,” Sana interrupts, her head tilted, a cheshire smile on her lips, “I assumed that’s why you didn’t have a ring on your finger yet, that your relationship wasn’t the same as it used to be.” 

The circle quiets. A beat of silence lays over you, thick and heavy, her comment feels like a jab. Yunho doesn’t know why it fills his veins with ice cold rage. He bares his teeth, “Where’s the ring on your finger, Sana?” 

Seonghwa gasps, Tzuyu’s eyes widen, Wooyoung cracks a smile. Everyone’s eyes dance between Yunho and Sana with fear at her awaiting rebuttal. She tips her cocktail back, takes a sip, then raises it up to Yunho with a sinister smile, “Hopefully we both see rings within the year.” 

You blink in confusion and awe, sitting up straight, both of your heads turned toward the black hair sat beside you. He meets your gaze and his eyes feel warmer than they’ve been all day, since before the fight, even. The others redirect the conversation into something lighter, but the three of you stay locked in on each other, a bubble within the ash and smoke surrounding you. 

You purse your lips. What was that for? Yunho smiles. Couldn’t help myself, I guess.  Mingi lays a hand over your thigh. Sana will always be Sana, it’s not worth it.  Yunho leans into his hands stretched out behind him. I’m tired of her sticking her nose where it doesn’t belong.  Your cheeks warm with a small smile. Thank you. 

After all the cans had been thrown into the fire and San had smothered it with the lid, the whole group decided it was time for bed, your day tomorrow required a full night’s sleep. Beach, boardwalk, dinner, a repeat of today, but tomorrow you could really drink. You had half a mind to stay sober tomorrow, you think you had enough day-drinking already, your brain muddled and your limbs sluggish, you didn’t miss the feeling of a hangover. 

The queen sized bed felt like a cloud beneath your thighs compared to the sand you were sitting on prior, the bottle of water Mingi handed you when he entered your bedroom healing you. In a hoodie and sweats, the house much too cold for a summer night, you sat up and chugged while Mingi got his toiletries ready for a shower. 

Yunho didn’t enter the bedroom until Mingi had left, drying his hair with his towel, sweats hanging low on his hips, droplets of water still trickling down his abdomen. You kept your water in your lap, lips pursed, trying to think of something to say. Just earlier today you weren’t speaking at all, you teased him all day, and then he… Sticks up for you to Sana? It doesn’t make any sense. None of this makes sense. 

Yunho pulls a tee shirt over his head, barely glancing at you sitting on the bed, then reaches into the closet to grab a blanket. Folded over his forearm, he tucks a pillow under his other arm, then without as much as a word he makes for the door. 

“Hello?” You sit up a little taller, confusion in the knit of your brows. “Where are you going?” 

He looks back at you over his shoulder, “I’m gonna sleep on the couch downstairs.”

“No,” you answer, shaking your head, staring at him like the idea is ridiculous, because it is. 

He raises his brows, “No?” 

“Stay,” you urge, heart picking up speed in your chest. “We need to talk at some point.” 

He finally turns around, brows still raised as he shrugs, “Talk about what?” 

Your lips part but nothing comes out. Jaw clenching, you sit dumbfounded and annoyed. Talk about the fight? Talk about today? Talk about how there’s still clearly something romantic between the three of you? 

“How you toyed with me all day?” Yunho finishes your thoughts, taking a step towards your bed, “How the two of you drove me up a fucking wall? How I snapped at Sana to defend you because clearly I’ve lost the ability to control myself?” 

You stare at him wide-eyed, speechless, excitement rippling beneath your skin because he took a step toward you. 

“They were right, you know,” he tilts his head, taking another step forward, “You haven’t been all over each other like that in years. And I sat there, knowing it was all for me, and couldn’t do a damn thing.” 

“Yes, you could have,” you finally counter, voice barely above a whisper. 

“What would you have me do?” He says through a sharp chuckle, “Put you over my fucking knee in front of everyone? The whole beach? That's what started all of this, right?” 

“I— What do you—?”

“This all started because of sex. You worked me up all day to have me at my wits’ end when we finally got back here at the end of the night. That was the plan, right?” 

You blink at him, that was the plan. Partially. “I just wanted you back here so we could talk—”

He smiles as he cuts you off, “You don’t want to talk, not really. I know what you want.” 

You sigh, frustration curling your fingers around the water bottle, ignoring the heat between your legs. He drops the blanket and the pillow on the floor as he takes another step forward, thighs just touching the mattress you sat on. 

“I do want to talk,” you frown, heart pounding against your chest, scared those five words will stop him from doing everything he was about to do. Voice lowering, you whispered, “I want you.”

“It’s pointless,” he shakes his head, smile dropped,.“You can’t separate it.”

“Because it’s already blended together,” your voice is still low, teetering on the edge of shaky. “The lines were crossed a long time ago, Yun.”

“That doesn’t mean it’s right,” he meets your eye, and there’s nothing kind behind them. No emotion that makes you feel like there’s any possibility of salvaging what you had. You refuse to trust it, the mask he puts on, you cling to how he’s looked at you these past weeks, with love and trust in his eyes, the mask he wears now is to protect himself. 

You give him a bitter chuckle, “Who are you to tell me what’s right? Do you not feel anything when you look at me?” 

“When I look at you,” he keeps his face steady, emotionless. “I see Mingi’s girlfriend.”

“You’re a liar,” you spit, sitting up on your knees, crawling closer to him on the bed. He watches, unmoving, eyes not even flickering a change in feeling. “Why did you stick up for us to Sana then?”

“Because you’re my friends, and I’m tired of hearing her project her own insecurities onto you.”

“Why were you bothered when I told that Aurora girl you were single, then?” You stand on your knees atop the mattress, almost face to face with him. “You are single, aren’t you? You want to be single.”

“I don’t want to be single,” his voice cracks, exasperated, eyebrows shooting to his hairline, “but that doesn’t mean I can just join a relationship that’s been established for over five years!” 

“Why are you making it sound like a decision that’s made on a whim? We just spent the last four weeks already in one, Yunho,” you raise your voice to match his, every ounce of emotion punctuating each syllable. 

“We spent the past month fucking,” he lowers his voice, words sharp enough to cut. “That’s it.”

As if every single one of your emotions swim up to your waterline, your voice cracks as tears blur your vision, “You’re a bullshit fucking liar, Jeong Yunho.”

You keep your eyes on Yunho as Mingi enters the bedroom, catching the towel hanging from his waist out of your peripherals. Yunho breaks eye contact before you do, his eyes sliding to Mingi who stares dumbfounded in the doorway, then quickly closes the door behind him when his eyes land on you. 

“What’s wrong?” His eyes are wide and concerned, one hand on his towel as he quickly makes his way across the room. The streak of sunshine in a hurricane, you can feel the hostility fizzle, his presence comfort enough to cool the fire in your veins. 

“Nothing,” you shake your head, then wipe your eyes with one hand as you sit back down on the mattress, legs folded beneath you. Your sniff betrays you, as if Mingi didn’t already know you were crying, “I’m fine.”

Mingi stands beside Yunho, a knit in his brow as he turns to his best friend, “What did you say?” 

“Nothing I haven’t said before,” Yunho bends down, picking up the blanket and pillow he was holding before. “I’m sleeping on the couch downstairs.”

“No you’re not,” Mingi chokes out a laugh in irritated disbelief, all of his features blown out as he faces him. “You’re not leaving again, you don’t get to walk out twice.”

Yunho’s chuckle mirrors Mingi’s, his voice louder and strained, “I don’t know what else you want me to say!”

“Say you don’t want us,” you answer from the bed, voice unsteady, terrified of his answer even if you’re certain you know it already. “Say you don’t want this, and we’ll let it go.” 

Yunho’s eyes dance between the two of you, the cogs turning in his mind visible in his tight features. Mingi takes a step away, walking towards the dresser, pulling out a pair of briefs to sleep in as he mumbles, “Don’t say it if you don’t mean it.”

You stare at Yunho as his lips open and close, racking his brain for something to say that isn’t that. He shakes his head, “Even if I want this, it doesn’t mean it’s right. What will everyone say?”

The slap of Mingi’s briefs against his hips sounds through the room, “Who gives a fuck what anyone has to say?” He faces Yunho, “If we’re happy, that’s all that matters.” 

“It’s not that easy,” Yunho drops the blanket and pillow again, his shoulders pushed back in defense, trying to hold onto what’s left of his control as his hands wave with each word. “As much as I want to believe everything will be sunshine and rainbows, it’s you two. Your relationship is concrete, everyone’s expecting a wedding within the next few years and you want to fuck all of that up?!” 

Your stomach drops with the validity of his fear, cheeks warming, ears burning hot. You and Mingi have never decided on marriage, not fully, the two of you semi-estranged from your families, not completely in a place financially to make that kind of commitment. A ring, a big party to show off your relationship was nowhere in the near future. A house came first. Stability came first. 

Yunho knows that. He knows all of that, but his fear is still valid– because what happens when you are stable? You and Mingi never got that far, the rest was hopes and dreams that would maybe come true one day. You swallow, sniffing again, raising a hand to wipe what’s left of your lingering tears as understanding turns into a bloom of warmth in your chest. 

“I understand this isn’t normal,” Mingi takes a step toward Yunho, confidence clear in his voice, it seems you’ve switched places since the last time you talked. Mingi looks over Yunho’s shoulder to meet your eye for a second before looking at Yunho again, “But this won’t fuck anything up, Yunho, our relationship has always been… What it is. This.” 

“Your relationship,” Yunho reiterates, his voice quiet, body leaning towards Mingi. “What if that doesn’t stay the same with me in the picture? What if down the line, you decide you want to get married? Do you want kids? Where does that leave me?” 

A rush of something you can’t describe swallows you whole. It was overwhelming enough having this conversation with Mingi, and you haven’t had the conversation again with Yunho in the picture, what that would look like for the three of you. Tears crawl their way back up, a tightness in your throat, heat in your cheeks. You didn’t have an answer to his question, fear leaves your stomach hollow, your limbs tingly.

“We’re not asking you to make a decision now,” Mingi’s hands curl around his waist. “Even if it seems like we are. All we know is that we want to be with you, we’re willing to figure all of the details out together, with you. We want you, Yunho, isn’t that enough to at least try?”

Yunho’s head dips down, his face hidden, sucking in a deep, grounding breath. You need to touch him, feel close to him, you need your skin on his, you need to feel like he still wants you. It feels like losing him– a sentiment you can’t bear to accept, you haul yourself off the bed and press yourself into his back. 

“This is a lot,” his voice is smaller than you’ve ever heard it, weak, frail, strained with uncertainty. “I don’t know what to do, I- I want you too, but this is,” his voice breaks. “Terrifying.”

“I know,” you feel Mingi’s hands swimming along his sides as you keep your cheek pressed to his back, your fists balled into the cotton of his tee. Mingi continues, “You can do it, the commitment, the titles. It’s scary and vulnerable, but it’s us, we won’t hurt you.”

Another trembling breath leaves him as his forehead meets Mingi’s, his hands resting on your own, curled into his shirt. Your lip quivers, trying so hard to keep your own tears in to be the stability he needs, the rock you're used to being; seeing him hurting is like an arrow through your chest, it hurts the same way it does with Mingi.

“You don’t need to make a choice,” Mingi whispers. “But don’t shut us out. Don’t make us think we don’t mean anything to you.”

“I’m sorry,” Yunho whispers, sniffing, his body rigid between the two of you. “I didn’t mean to, I didn’t mean any of it, I was scared. I am scared.”

You press your lips to his clothed spine, “It’s okay, Yunho.”

He squeezes your hands, palms over knuckle, his touch is grounding. Mingi’s hands glide from his waist over his chest up to the curvature of his shoulders, landing there for a moment as Yunho’s head perks up. Mingi leans in, lips grazing Yunho’s as his hands move to his neck, sliding up to cup his cheeks.

“Can I kiss you?” Soft, honest. Yunho barely gives him a nod before Mingi attaches their lips, Yunho’s hands darting to his waist. You keep your hands on him, body pressed into him, feeling Yunho’s body relax, shoulders drooping, back arching into Mingi’s touch. 

Their lips move slowly, unhurried, a practice of searching for something in one another, finding it, reveling in it. The air changes around you, expanding, room opening, tension slipping through the balcony door and into the saltwater air, dissipating into the humidity. Yunho’s hands find Mingi’s cheeks and they move together, bodies arching into one another, getting lost in emotion and feeling and longing, you could feel all of it, it bled from both of them and into you, watching from behind. 

Hands on Yunho’s waist, you guide him backward until your back hits the bed. You crawl onto it, never breaking your eyes from the pair, watching as Yunho uses one hand to support himself while Mingi lays him down onto the mattress. 

“I missed you.”

You’ve never heard him sound like that before. Emotional– soft and whiney, honest, like he’d pulled the words from the deepest part of his consciousness, a box he kept tucked away. It has you moving, crawling over to them, inserting yourself into their bubble. Yunho’s hand reaches for your cheek as soon as you come into view, your eyes meeting, and for the first time you see him consumed by lust without the harsh blade of control in his eyes. Raw, open, free, there’s nothing but delicacy swirling in chocolate brown as he pulls you down into him, attaching his lips to yours like he’d been waiting to do it all day. 

Hungrier than those with Mingi, his lips move quickly, tongue slotting between your lips to search your mouth for something true, as if you haven’t given him all of you since the start. “I want you,” you whisper, sharing his breath, a soft smile curving your lips before he swallows down your words with his mouth. You swing one leg over his hips and he sits up on an elbow, his other hand moving to your hip for leverage as he pushes himself up until he’s sitting, shifting you properly on his lap. 

Mingi moves behind him, hands on his waist under his shirt, lips finding his neck with soft presses of his lips as your fingers reach for the hem of his tee. “Need this off,” you whisper into his mouth. “Want to feel you.”

Mingi’s the one who pulls the cotton tee over his head, lips finding Yunho’s shoulder as you kiss his lips again, tongue dancing with his, hands splayed on his pecs, letting the warmth of him seep into you. Yunho reaches beneath your hoodie, fingers cold as they dance along your skin, palms curled around your waist while his thumbs brush against your abdomen, his touch is soft, like he’d break you if he pressed too hard. 

You break the kiss only to pull the hoodie over your head and Mingi steals Yunho’s lips, using two fingers to his chin to turn his face. You watch them for a moment before leaning in, lips following the curve of his jaw down to his throat, flattening your tongue down to the base of his neck, sucking into his skin just above his collarbone. He tastes clean, like his bodywash, him, your hands find the waistband of his sweats, tugging them downward. 

Yunho gasps as you slip them from under him, hips moving easily for you, “I– Are you sure?”

You’re nodding on command, “Of course, I’m sure.”

He’s talking as you tug his briefs down to his thighs. “I said a lot of things.”

“You didn’t mean them,” Mingi answers as you settle yourself between his thighs, coaxing Yunho backward until his back is pressed to his chest. 

His cock stands tall against his pelvis, pink-kissed and leaking, it makes your mouth water. Yunho’s hips twitch as your nails graze his thighs, making you smile, eyeing him through your brows. He looks… scared. Like this was unknown territory, his eyes wide, red splotched chest rapidly rising and falling, fingers curled into the sheets beside him. 

It makes you want to take care of him in the same way he’s always taken care of you. 

“Is this okay?” You ask softly, making him nod. Your head tilts, needing the words to continue, “Do you want this?”

“Yes– fuck,” his hips twitch again, brows raising like he’s surprising himself. “I want it, I want you. Please.” 

There’s a pit in your gut as the plea leaves his lips and you’re wrapping your fingers around his length, making a show of the glob of spit dropping from your tongue and onto his length, using your fingers to spread it. He groans, head tipping back into Mingi’s chest as you start working his length with your hand, watching him carefully. So pretty, hair mussed about, chest splotchy and body twitching, you wonder if this is how you look beneath him. You dip your head down, tongue lolling out of your mouth to lick at his tip, salty, raw, Yunho– you wrap your lips around him and suck. 

“Fuck,” he draws out the word, low and heavy, a hand reaching down to tangle into your hair. You let him ease you down his length, tongue flat against the underside of him, lips suctioned tight. “Missed that fuckin’ mouth.”

There he is. You smile, barely, lips stretched around the width of him, bobbing your head as your fist works the base of him, pumping, twisting, gripping him just right– the moan he releases is nothing but nasty, Mingi swallows it, stealing his lips again, you can hear their mouths as much as you can hear your mouth around his length, everything wet, sloppy. Mingi’s hands reach beneath his arms to his chest, thumbs flicking over his nipples and his hips buck into you, making you gag, a hand clawing into his thigh, eyes squeezing tight. 

“Sorry– fuck,” he curses again, voice desperate, “feels so good, don’t stop.”

You take him down your throat, gagging yourself purposefully as your nose meets the tuft of black hair at his base, the hand that was curled around him reaching below, cupping his balls softly, tightening your throat around him as you squeeze your palm ever so lightly. The sound that leaves him is obscene, abdomen clenching, his hands finding Mingi’s thighs, nails digging into his skin. You bob your head, breathing through your nose to keep him deeply rooted in your throat, constricting around him just to hear that noise over and over. 

“Oh my god,” his voice is strained, harsh, “I’m gonna cum– I want to fuck you, please, wait–”

His hand finds your hair but you don’t budge, keeping your rhythm on his cock, nose buried in his hair as your saliva drips from your lips and onto his pelvis, sliding down to where your hand lays below. 

“Baby, baby–”

His moan is strangled, caught in his throat as his limbs lock, legs straightening while his grip tightens in your hair, hips bucking into your mouth once, twice before his release shoots down your throat. You swallow him down, keeping your mouth suctioned to him as you ride out his high until he’s shaking, slipping off of him with your tongue still flat to ensure you’ve gotten every last drop. 

You break off of him with a pop, eyes glassy as you find him winded. Chest heaving, head lazily thrown on Mingi’s chest, your brown-haired boyfriend just smiled proudly from behind him. 

“Mouth just as dangerous as your pussy,” Mingi says, hands still splayed across Yunho’s abdomen, fingers softly petting his skin. 

“Only for you,” your smile is coy, of all things. Crawling up to where they sat, you lean down and press a kiss to Mingi’s lips, then one to Yunho’s. He still looks winded when you pull away, making you giggle, “You okay?”

He nods, “I just… I haven’t come since the last time, with you. Need a second.”

You snort, “A whole week, is that a new record or something?”

Yunho smiles, laughter in the exhale through his nose, “Don’t get smart with me, I haven’t forgotten about today.”

You lean down to press another kiss to his lips, keeping yourself close as you say, “Been waiting for the chance to do something about it, like you said?”

His eyes flicker up to yours. In that one sentence it’s as if you reminded him who he was, what he’s capable of. These eyes you know, deep and controlled, harsh in a way that tickles your spine. Your core clenches around nothing, tongue poking out to lick over your lips, anticipation heating your blood.

“Take off your pants, sit at the top of the bed.”

He barely gets the sentence out before you’re shimmying yourself out of your sweatpants, crawling up to your pillows. You’re vibrating as Yunho turns to Mingi, standing up on his knees, grabbing the younger man with one palm below his jaw to pull him upward. Mingi scrambles to his knees, brows already furrowed, lips still touching in the center as they part. 

Yunho smashes his lips into Mingi’s, there’s nothing graceful about the way his other hand digs into the nape of Mingi’s neck, making him arch into the older man with a whimper pouring straight into his mouth as his hands find Yunho’s biceps for leverage. It’s messy, rough, Yunho picking him apart with nothing but his lips– it makes your knees tie together, adding pressure between your thighs. 

“You,” Yunho starts, the word accusatory, giving Mingi another unforgiving press of his lips before he continues. “Teased me all day. Taunting me during volleyball, in front of our friends, do you have anything you want to say to me?”

“I’m sorry,” Mingi squeaks, fingers curling into Yunho’s biceps, the sound makes a smile spread across your cheeks, eyes flaring. 

“Louder.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Better,” Yunho mumbles, reaching down to pull his shirt up and over his head. One hand reaches down to palm Mingi over his briefs, palm flat and fingers splayed over his length, and Mingi folds upon contact. Head dipping low, abdomen clenching, a groan spills from his lips as his hips buck into Yunho’s touch. 

“Don’t tease,” Mingi whispers, voice a strangled moan. 

Yunho huffs a laugh, “Like you teased me earlier? You can dish it out but you can’t take it?”

Mingi lifts his head up to look at Yunho just as he starts grinding his palm against his length, bare chest leaning into Mingi’s, using his height to his advantage to look down at him. Mingi sputters, “T-That’s different, Yun. We were trying–”

“Trying to what?” Yunho squeezes his length and Mingi whimpers. Yunho smiles, “Bait me into fucking you in front of everyone?” 

“No–”

“Then what?”

“Wanted to feel like you still wanted us,” Mingi says it all in one strained breath, his voice rising in pitch as Yunho’s hand slips beneath his briefs, fingers wrapping around his length. 

“I wanted you,” Yunho’s voice slips into something quieter, other hand reaching up around Mingi’s neck, thumb brushing over his bottom lip as before brings his face to Mingi’s, lips almost touching. “The whole time.”

“You left,” Mingi’s voice is barely above a whisper, shaky, a hiss leaving his lips when Yunho twists his wrist, palm closing over the tip of his cock. Yunho pushes Mingi’s briefs down his thighs, lowering Mingi down until his knees are spread, arms splayed behind him, cock jumping against his pelvis, red, angry and leaking like a fucking faucet.

“Do you want my mouth?” Yunho, between Mingi’s knees, asks before his eyes slide to you at the top of the bed. “Or do you want to be filled?”

Mingi’s brows raise. “I get a choice?”

Yunho shrugs. “My way of saying sorry.”

Both of their eyes slide to you and your eyes widen under their attention, back straightening against the pillows. They drink in your posture, knees pressed together, hands scrunched in the sheets as if that’s the only thing keeping you from slipping your hand between your legs. 

“Come.”

Yunho’s voice is unyielding, it has you crawling across the mattress on all fours, landing on your knees before them. Mingi’s head tilts, “Thought I had a choice?”

Yunho snorts his amusement, “Like you’d choose anything other than my cock filling you up.” He plants a hand against your cheek, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead, “You can kiss while I prep him, but don’t touch.”

You nod, eager as you settle yourself laid down in front of Mingi, your beautiful boyfriend who already looked so gone. Cheeks pink, chest heavy, his muscled biceps land on either side of your head against the mattress, your calves curling over his thighs with him above you. His cock lands against your lower tummy, heavy, sticky, the order not to touch has your heart picking up speed in your chest, a desire you can’t fulfill. 

“Hi, baby,” Mingi’s smiling as he presses one, soft kiss to your lips. Your arms are bent up, hands on either side of your shoulders, palms faced up with your fingers loose and limp, hips fighting the urge to buck up into him. 

You push out a sigh, “Need you,” your back arches instead, nipples pebbling beneath the breeze that drifts through the room. “Wanna feel full.”

He places another soft kiss on your lips, “Soon.” He deepens the kiss, tongue pushing into your mouth, you can taste him, taste Yunho, it makes you moan into him, fingers twitching because you want them on his face, in his hair, around his cock. 

Yunho leaves the bed to cross the room, you hear him opening the closet, the zipper of the duffel he brought sliding open, but Mingi’s tongue is licking into your mouth, rendering you thoughtless, you don’t care to look over. “Wanna touch you,” you whisper, back arching more until your nipples press against his warm skin, whining at the contact. 

“Patience, baby,” his lips find your jaw, elbows closing in around your head, tongue sliding down to your neck to lick a stripe back up to your jaw. You moan, legs tightening around his thighs, hips bucking against his length that tapped against your stomach with each movement. Torture, being naked beneath him, wanting so badly to touch, to feel. 

You feel the dip of the bed when Yunho kneels behind him, you hear the cap snapping open on what you can only assume is a bottle of lube. It makes you smirk, knowing he brought it with him, that it was in his bag, waiting to be used. Yunho’s palms flatten over Mingi’s ass, and his head dips down into your shoulder at the contact, in anticipation of what comes next. 

You watch over Mingi’s shoulder as Yunho squirts some into his hand, closing it before running two fingers down the space between, thumb circling his hole. Mingi’s whole body jerks, gasping into your neck, cock digging into your stomach.

“Open up for me,” Yunho says softly, “let me in.”

Mingi’s knees spread a little wider, lips meeting your shoulder, your neck, back arching lower, the position Yunho likes. Yunho keeps his eyes on you beneath him as he pushes a finger inside, his own brows furrowing together at the feeling of him, the tightness around his digit.

“Shit,” Mingi whimpers into your skin and one hand comes up to tangle in his hair, relaxing him into the stretch, all while keeping your eyes on Yunho. 

“That’s it,” Yunho nods, voice just above a whisper, “there you go.”

Yunho bites his lip as he crooks his finger and Mingi fucks back, head lifting from your shoulder to push himself into the older man, moaning like it’s the best thing he’s ever felt. You quickly turn your head to catch a glimpse, his slacked jaw, eyes softly shut, brows knitted together in pleasure, so fucking beautiful. The sight of him when you’re wrapped around his cock versus Yunho pushing into him, the sight of his pleasure was so different, so raw seeing him this way, so open and desperate. 

“Yes,” you find yourself whispering, back arching at his pleasure, almost feeling it as if it were your own. 

Yunho adds another finger, making Mingi moan, lifting himself up onto his palms, head craning to see Yunho behind him. “More, gimme your cock, I can take it.”

Yunho nods, ripping open a condom packet from beside him and slipping it on in one quick motion. Tapping his cock between Mingi’s cheeks, he looks over Mingi’s shoulder to you, “Go ahead.”

At the speed of fucking light you’re reaching between you, making Mingi gasp as your fingers wrap around his length, Yunho lining himself up behind him as you line him up at your center. You didn’t need the prep, the head of his cock slipping around as soon as you brought it to your slit, sliding through your wetness until it caught against your entrance, making you gasp out a moan. 

“Fuck,” Mingi’s voice sounds strangled, strained, preparing himself to fuck you full while he gets fucked full– you’ve done it plenty, but each and every time it’s overwhelming for him, for you to be fucked by Yunho’s thrusts. 

“Breathe,” Yunho says, and it’s both a warning and an order as he pushes inside, making Mingi’s breath catch in his throat until he forces it down into the base of his lungs. Yunho groans, head tipping back as he slowly pushes inward until he seats himself inside. 

One of your hands cups his face, pressing your lips against his unmoving ones, “That feels good?”

“Full,” Mingi grits out as Yunho bottoms out, hands squeezing his ass, face contorted in pleasure. 

You smile, pressing your lips into the corner of his mouth, “Ready?”

He nods, eyes screwed shut, mouth stuck open like he’d unhinged his jaw. You tighten your legs over his thighs, an elbow planted under you, lifting your hips up to press his tip inside, and with Yunho’s next thrust he’s pushing inside, all the way, all at once. Your eyes blow wide as a shrill sound escapes you, and Yunho’s head picks up over Mingi’s back. 

“If you’re loud, I stop,” Yunho grits out. “We don’t need the whole house hearing us.”

Your other arm is clawing at Mingi’s shoulder, so fucking full and stretched out it’s dizzying, you barely process Yunho’s words as Mingi catches your lips with his own. The three of you readjust closer together now that you’re positioned, and with every thrust of Yunho’s hips against Mingi, Mingi fucks into you the same. 

“So tight, Min,” Yunho gasps. “Missed this ass, fuck, craved this tight fuckin’ thing.” 

He’s beautiful, hair soft and messy, brows quirked in focus as he watches himself drill into Mingi, how his cock disappears, how Mingi sucks him in with each thrust. You’re clinging to Mingi, one arm over his shoulder as your hips fuck back into him, his cock curving into you just right, making you moan into his lips as his tongue steals every sound from your throat, pouring another one right back into yours. 

“Faster,” you whimper, eyes lifting. “Please, Yun. More.”

“Never satisfied,” Yunho spits out through his clenched teeth, two hands gripping Mingi’s hips as he fucks into him harder, faster, ricocheting into you, body slamming into the mattress with each thrust. You’re a crying, whimpering mess, clawing into Mingi’s skin as he cries into your mouth, lost in a bubble of pleasure, Mingi’s body locking up with each thrust of Yunho’s hips. 

“I’m close,” Mingi whispers, straining. “Fuck, too good, so full, you’re so tight–”

“Cum,” you whisper, hips rolling into each thrust. “Fill me up, baby. Come on.”

Yunho’s hands slide up to his waist, nails biting into his sides, “Hold it.”

Your hips buck into him faster, a pit forming in your stomach as the pleasure builds, catching Mingi’s lips again. Yunho slaps his palm against Mingi’s ass as he feels Mingi buck into you, “Hold it.”

“Can’t!” Mingi cries, “I can’t, I cant, I’m cumming–”

You moan as his cock twitches inside you, still rolling your hips against him as he fills you up, warmth spreading through your lower half. Yunho hisses from behind, “You never fuckin’ listen.”

You smile, dazed and lazy as you stare up at him over Mingi’s back, “Happens every time.”

“Fuck,” Yunho huffs, “wanted to cum inside you, Min.”

You slow your hips as Mingi’s arms waver, shaking on either side of you. “’m sorry,” Mingi says, breathless. “Felt so fucking good.”

You pull your hips off of him as you let go of his shoulder, falling flat against the bed as he crumbles on top of you, Yunho pulling out behind him. Sated, he hums into your shoulder, left hand digging beneath your back, holding you close. 

Yunho slips off the condom and pulls you toward him by your ankles, Mingi’s startled enough by the action to roll off of you and onto his back, head turned with eyes half open to watch as Yunho tugs you upward by your hips. Yunho sinks down to sit on his calves, pulling your thighs over his, not wasting a second as he runs his cock through your folds, spreading Mingi’s release. You hiss at the contact, hips bucking into him, digging your elbows beneath you to hold you up. “Kiss me,” you beg, “kiss me while you fuck me, please. Need it.”

His brows furrow, lips parting like you’d just taken your cock down his throat, your words hitting like a pang to his gut. He lines himself up, cock prodding at your entrance as he leans forward, grabbing you by your waist to pull you on top of him, using your thighs on his as leverage to sit yourself over his cock. 

Lowering yourself onto him, you lay your hands over his shoulders to attach your lips to his, nothing about it structured or neat as he pushes inch after inch into your heat. You moan into him, whining as you reach the base of him, feeling the full length of him in your fucking guts. 

“Big,” you mumble, a whiney whisper. “Wanna cum on your cock, Yunho.”

His fingers tighten around your waist, lifting you up on his cock before slamming you back down, making you cry out into his mouth. “Quiet,” he grunts, then places a kiss to the corner of your lips. “I know it feels good, baby.”

Your fingers claw into his shoulders, “So good, missed your cock, fills me up so fuckin’ perfect, so full.”

He guides you with two hands on your waist, lifting you, lowering you, shifting you into a dirty grind, “Take me so well,” he says before he kisses you again. “Pussy so tight, missed her, missed you.”

You catch his lips, words staggered by each slap of your hips against his, “Don’t fucking leave again.”

His fingers sear your waist, squeezing so hard you’re sure they’ll leave marks behind, making you moan. You grind yourself into him, rolling your hips until his cock reaches the sweet spot inside you, a high pitched noise escaping your lungs before you can stop it. 

“Shit,” you cry out, panicking at the pleasure, lowering your voice. “Shit, shit, shit– good, right there, so good.”

Yunho meets you where you roll into him and your eyes drop to watch, his sculpted abdomen flexing under the movement, how you swallow his cock with each grind, it’s too much. Mingi’s behind you before you can process it, feeling his heat before his bare skin, his lips at your neck, teeth grazing your steaming skin, fingers toying at your chest, you fall into him as your hips move on their own. 

“Min,” you moan out. “Yunho, fuck– wanna cum, wanna cum,” you’re repeating the words like a mantra, Yunho’s cock kissing your walls, the tip of him running over that spot inside you like it has nowhere else to go. 

“Cum,” Mingi says into your skin. “Cum around his cock, let him feel it.”

You grind your teeth, a strangled sound escaping you, so close you could fucking taste it. 

“Need more, baby?” Yunho asks, breathless, jaw clenched like he was holding himself back. “My girl, never satisfied, always needs more.”

“Insatiable,” Mingi’s tongue drags along your neck and you nearly fold, the pleasure overwhelming. One of his hands dips down between you, two fingers rubbing at your clit and your eyes blow wide, entire body jerking forward at the touch. 

“There she goes,” Yunho smiles and your breath completely catches in your throat, hips stuttering in their grind, he quickly uses two hands on your hips to keep you moving in rhythm. You feel it building impossibly further, your orgasm right below the surface, your skin vibrating, your breath coming out in shallow bursts. 

Mingi reaches up, one hard pinch to one of your nipples and you’re falling forward, head on Yunho’s shoulder as your limbs lock, pressure blowing, euphoria consuming every inch of your being. You hear Yunho mumble something haphazardly to Mingi before he’s pushing you backward, holding onto your hipbones as he drills into you, chasing his own high. It’s more than overwhelming, your orgasm never ending, prolonged with each thrust of his cock inside you.

 “Mouth,” Yunho bites, and Mingi’s palm clasps over your lips on command. You don’t even realize what sounds are leaving you, that your lungs are even working properly, so consumed by euphoria. 

You’re seizing around him, body twitching, core clenching with each thrust of his cock until his hips stutter, emptying himself inside you with consistent, punched strokes so you feel every inch of him, every drop of him as he fills you up. 

Mingi releases your mouth when Yunho finally pauses, his hand shaky, chest heaving, cock half-hard again against his thigh. The only sound in the room is your breathing, distant waves crashing ashore, the sound of the breeze blowing through the room, making the curtains dance around the balcony doors. 

“I could watch you two forever,” Mingi mumbles, more to himself than to you. 

Yunho pulls out slowly, keeping a hand steady cupped over your center, so if you do drip it’s not on San’s comforter. Always thinking ahead, even after sex, when one would think his brain would turn at least a little fuzzy. 

You swallow down nothing but air in your dry throat, reaching for the man beside you and the other across from you, “Lay with me.”

“You need to shower,” Yunho counters, running his other hand through his hair, pushing it off his forehead. “Or pee, at least. Get this out of you so we can sleep.”

You mumble your discontent, groaning, body spent and tired but so fucking elated at what just transpired. Yunho smiles up at you, “We aren’t at home, little lady, you need to go pee.”

“Little lady?” You and Mingi ask at the same time, mocking him, brows furrowed, smiles amused. You snort, “Try a different nickname.”

“Shut up and go to the bathroom,” Yunho huffs, standing up off the bed, pulling you by your ankles to the edge. Mumbling under his breath, he’s looking at the sheets, “Always something to say.”

“You love it,” you smirk, standing on shaky, tired legs. You wobble, he slides a grounding arm around your waist, you look up at him with smiling eyes, “If I wasn’t such a brat you wouldn’t have anything to punish me for.”

“A well-behaved submissive is a well-trained one,” he’s quick to respond.

You scowl, eyes pointed as you look at him, throwing an arm over his shoulder, “I’m not your submissive.”

“What are you, then?” He asks and you steal your arm back from over his shoulder, ignoring the leakage between your thighs, just to look up at him and see him smirking, face fully amused. 

“Not funny,” you grumble. “Mingi will shower with me, you can wait outside.”

“No,” he half-whines the word, still fully amused, leaning into you before he bends at his knees, scooping you from beneath your legs into his arms bridal-style. “We’re all showering together, end of story. Say a prayer that Jihyo and Jongho are asleep.”

You’re giggling at him butt-ass naked in the dark hallway, it seemed Jihyo and Jongho were asleep with how easily you snuck into the bathroom without being caught, Mingi on your heel. Your shower was innocent, soft touches and bubbly soap, exhaustion dancing in the steam, the humor had dissipated and exposed what was left over. The three of you, together again. Whole.

Back in bed, you in the middle, Mingi on your left, Yunho on your right, you didn’t even bother with clothes. The only light came from the still open balcony doors, moonlight acting as a beacon, calming in how it coated the room in a soft pale hue. 

“I really did miss you,” Mingi cuts through what felt like an hour of silence, just waves and breeze. “We missed you.”

“I missed you, too,” Yunho’s response is soft, fingers playing in Mingi’s hair above you, you cocooned in the middle of the two. 

For the first time, those three little words sat on your tongue, begging to be said. Instead, you ask, “You know what you said? The submissive thing?”

His hand cups your cheek, “I was just kidding, baby.”

“No,” you shake your head. “It’s not that. I was wondering… What it’d be like.”

“To be my sub?” His brows raise, tipping your head up to look at him. “Like, for real?”

You smile, “Yes, for real. I’ve wondered since Woo’s going away party, what you’re like when you’re serious about it.”

“You don’t think I’m serious with you?”

“You know you let shit slide,” you narrow your eyes. “A lot slide. I want to experience a day, in public and stuff when you’re being you. In your element.”

Yunho’s eyes slide up to Mingi, “You too, baby?”

Mingi smiles, bashful but honest, nodding. “I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t curious, too.”

“You’re both untrained–”

“You’ve taught us a lot,” you cut him off. Rearranging yourself, head pressed into Mingi’s chest so you can see Yunho easier, you urge, “We can do it. Let us try tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?”

“Yunho.”

“Fine,” his smile is soft, eyes so dreamy it’s hard to comprehend that a man like him could ever be mean. If you hadn’t experienced it, you wouldn’t believe it. You love him mean. You love him nice. You love how he looks at you. You keep the words inside. 

“We’ll talk about it more in the morning.”

You didn’t say another word, other than goodnight. You could still hear the waves crashing onto the shore just outside the house, you could smell Yunho’s body wash everywhere, the moon shining down on your bedroom, for the first time in days, everything felt… Peaceful. Normal. 

Your heartbeat hasn’t been this even since the day Yunho walked out of your apartment.

Feet twitching, a tickle on your leg, your nose scrunches as consciousness pulls your eyelids apart. You suck in a short breath when you feel warmth on your thigh, the heaviness of a hand, Yunho’s hand, it snaps you awake like someone poured cold water over your head. 

“What are you doing?”

His other hand moves your panties to the side, his head already between your legs, which was enough to answer your sleep-induced question. Your thighs parted for him further, arms limp against the bed, you could hear the soft snores from Mingi still fast asleep beside you. 

A moan passes softly through your lips as his tongue makes contact with your center, slipping between your folds, lips swirling around your clit. The fingers curling into your thigh tells you to shut up, and you listen by slotting your bottom lip between your teeth, your eyes screwed shut. 

Fuck, you’ve missed his hands on you, you’ve missed his mouth, you’ve missed the way he tells you what to do without saying a fucking word. You’ve missed everything about him. 

He pulls away only to pull your panties down your thighs, throwing them somewhere on the floor before both hands push into the plush of your thighs, spreading them wider than before. The mewl that leaves your lips, the way your leg bumps into Mingi’s sleeping body has his eyes cracking open, confusion and sleepiness present in the way he blinks himself awake. 

“Damn,” Mingi groans, stretching out his limbs as Yunho devours you all over again. “I’ve missed this.”

Mingi leans over, pressing his lips sleepily into your neck, tongue poking out to slide up onto your jaw, your mind clouded with a whirlwind of pleasure. Too long since you’ve had two bodies on you, focused on you, pleasuring you, days had felt like months. 

Yunho’s hand left your thigh to grab onto Mingi’s ankle, pulling him downward, a cue to get off of you without him saying a word. Mingi shuffled himself down the bed until Yunho grabbed his already stiff length over his briefs, Mingi pushed them over his hips and down his thighs, eager to feel Yunho’s touch like it was the first time. 

Yunho’s fingers slip through your folds to gather the wetness onto his hand just to use it in gliding his hand over Mingi’s length, which had both of you squirming in pleasure, light moans blending together. He spits on your center before sitting up on his knees, slipping two fingers inside you, the other hand still pumping Mingi’s length, he used the same rhythm on both of you, where you both stared up at him with parted lips, furrowed brows, glassy eyes, you think that maybe you were dreaming, or maybe you’d gone to heaven in your sleep. 

“Missed me, huh?”

You and Mingi nod erratically, your hips jerking into his touch, he wore a cocky smirk and half-lidded eyes that told you he missed you just as much. Having the two of you splay out beneath him, victim to his hands, to his hold over you entirely, he had you exactly where he wanted you. 

His fingers curled into you at the same time as his wrist twisted around Mingi’s length, movements he knew drove you close to the edge, you could feel the pit in your stomach forming just from how deep his fingers hit inside you. He knew you so well, too well, he could pull you to orgasm so fast, even at god knows what time in the morning. From the rising sun outside of your balcony, you knew it was early.

“You want to be with me for real?” Raised eyebrows, temptation in his voice, a depth to his eyes that only came out when he was in the mood to have you crying beneath him, the ghost of fear nipped at your spine. You nodded.

“You– fuck,” Mingi gasped, hips bucking into Yunho’s hand. “You know we do.”

“Then you’ll learn what it’s like to be with me,” staring down at you beneath his brows, his jawline sharp from where you looked up at him, you gulped at the sight of gravity in his eyes. Fingers hitting the spongy spot inside you repeatedly, it was hard to feel the fear through the pleasure, to understand the weight of his words as he pulled you so damn close to the finish line. 

 “Yes,” you whispered, back arching, eyes closing, your orgasm so close you could taste it. 

Mingi wasn’t far behind, his fingers curling into the bedsheets, his legs trembling, small gasps and mewls falling from his lips one after another, it was ridiculous how easily he had the two of you rendered stupid before him. 

Lifting yourself onto your elbows, your voice shaky, you cry, “I-I’m close.”

“Me too, don’t stop, Yunho,” Mingi moans from beside you, sounding weary, teetering on the edge. 

Yunho smiles, a flicker of something in his eye that assured you the fear in your spine was right. His fingers scissor you open like he could make you cum with his eyes closed. He doesn’t answer, doesn’t give you permission, and you push a heavy breath through your lips like it’d help pause your impending orgasm while you wait for the green light. 

“I’ve been too lenient with you,” he bites the inside of his cheek. “I did some thinking, too, and I think you two forgot who I am, why you asked me to share your bed in the first place.”

Your eyes blow wide, panic surging through you, “Yunho, I’m gonna cum–”

He slips his fingers out of you at the same time as he pulls his hand away from Mingi’s cock, your thighs snap together, a curse slipping from your lips. A too verbal cry leaves Mingi’s throat, his cock spurting ropes of white cum onto his hips, his stomach, his orgasm completely ruined. 

“We’ll see if you still want me by the end of today,” Yunho is smiling while ignoring Mingi’s heaving chest and teary eyes, proud of himself, happy with what he had just done to the two of you. Your eyes are dancing between Yunho and your boyfriend that has tears slipping past his waterline, his jaw dropped in shock, in anguish of what had just been done to him. You wished you could have seen his raw reaction, the moment his orgasm was denied.

“I didn’t forget everything that happened yesterday, did you?” He asks, eyebrows raised, eyes flickering between you and Mingi. “Today will be different.”

Your body was on fucking fire– fear, arousal, the orgasm that was still on the brink beneath your hipbones, you didn’t know which emotion to pay attention to first. You tried to speak, some form of rebuttal, every string of words came out jumbled, completely incoherent. Yunho grinned. Mingi whimpered. 

“Clean yourselves up and come to breakfast,” Yunho climbs off the bed, running a hand through his black locks as he makes for the door. “Don’t touch each other, don’t touch yourselves. I’ll know if you do.”

You swear the beach is hotter than it was yesterday. 

All thirteen of you, after having breakfast out on the deck, packed up for another beach day that was thankfully right in San’s metaphorical backyard. No one was acting out of the ordinary, it seemed safe that no one heard the three of you getting edged by Yunho’s hands just a few hours ago, or getting split open by his cock last night, but you wondered if anyone could pick up how fucking frustrated you and your boyfriend were come this morning. 

You obeyed Yunho, you didn’t touch each other after he left this morning, instead you kept your distance in your bedroom while you got ready for breakfast, as Mingi took a cold shower, letting ice fill his veins as he replayed his ruined orgasm in his mind. 

Yunho was careful around you at breakfast, around your friends, only meeting your eye when he felt yours on him, while you were daydreaming, fantasizing, watching how his veiny hands picked up his utensils, how his pretty pink lips wrapped around the food he ate, how his body bent when he stood up from the kitchen table, the low rumble in his tired voice as he spoke to Hongjoong…

“This one.”

After escaping a calm breakfast, you were upstairs, getting ready for the impending beach day. Yunho had picked out a pair of swim shorts for Mingi, ones with a longer inseam, and had ruffled through all the bikinis you brought with you, choosing one less skimpy, but still as revealing as a bikini would be. 

He handed you a black triangle bikini with small, white polka dots printed on the nylon, the bottoms were string-tied, the back ruched at the middle. Thrill danced in your blood at the thought of wearing something he chose for you, an invisible display of dominance to the people who would see you in it. He hasn’t done this yet. This was new. 

“We’re playing today,” he sat back on the bed, you and Mingi standing before him, backs straight, heels touching, as per Yunho’s request. You were already buzzing with adrenaline, excitement, anticipation. “If it’s too much, you know what to say, but I’ll be expecting obedience, without question. Understood?” 

You and Mingi nod furiously– he clicks his tongue. 

“Yes, sir,” scrambles out of both of your mouths simultaneously. You’ve never spoken about or decided on a title formally, you’ve only said the word to Yunho playfully a few times, just for him to respond ‘be careful what you wish for.’ 

You were more than careful, it’s indescribable how the title makes you feel. Yunho has taken care of you both from the start, slipped into a role on his own when he started spending time with you, but today he’d officially take on the role fully, no shortcuts, no excuses.

There were times you’ve gone grocery shopping or went out to eat and he’s told you to not speak unless spoken to, to only walk on the right side of him, Mingi on his left. Something like this lit a fire in your belly, playing in front of your friends when you and Mingi knew Yunho didn’t want them to know anything about you three, you’d have to be discreet, yet still obey him completely, it made you nervous. Excited to comply, to appease him. Still excited, but nervous about what happens if you don't. 

This was Yunho, unshielded, unapologetically himself, this was Yunho showing you who he is, what he wants. Your request had turned into a test, one you deeply wanted to pass; because in your mind, passing felt like the last obstacle. That if you passed, he’d have no reason to deny you any longer, no further reason to say no.

Because he didn’t answer you last night with a yes, in your mind, it was still a no.

Excitement flared in your eyes when he nodded, pleased, “Good.”

When he laid out the rules for today, they seemed simple. 

You’re to sit with good posture on his left, Mingi on his right. Easy. There shouldn’t ever be sand on his towel, if there is, you or Mingi clean it off when you see it. The thought of the two of you doting on him makes your heart skip a beat. 

You’re both to make sure he is never without a drink, you get him another when he’s finished the one he has. He’s testing your ability to pay attention, to focus on him only. He should be at the forefront of your mind all day— as if he already doesn’t live there. 

 If you need anything, if you want anything, you ask permission first. Submission, structure. 

No complaining about the sand, the heat, if you or Mingi are in distress, you tell him properly, without whining. He wants you polite, but neither you nor Mingi were one to complain about anything, anyhow. 

You both are to stay within arm’s reach of him all day. You want to be by his side, anyways, but being expected to… you would pass his test with flying colors. 

You didn’t ask what happens if you didn’t follow them, maybe you should’ve. It feels full circle from Wooyoung’s going away party all that time ago, when you were curious about the date he brought, why she acted the way she did. How a part of you craved it, when you didn’t even know what it was. 

The sun scorched the sand, inescapable, a dry heat that was only eased by the salty breeze that snuck past your bodies every now and then, so sporadically you could barely call it relief. You had created a small village on the beach, multicolored towels laid out in a line, beach chairs, umbrellas, coolers with liquor, bags full of snacks, a large speaker that played nostalgic music over the sound of waves crashing on the shore. Looking at the scene made you laugh, you could remember coming to the beach with the same damn people with nothing but a towel and a handle of vodka. 

A lifetime ago. 

You sat with your knees bent in a pretzel, back straight, palms in your lap. A drink was buried in the sand next to you, something sour, Tzuyu mixed it, she claimed one was enough to keep you buzzed for a while. That was fine with you, sunglasses on your face, watching the waves fold onto the wet sand at the shoreline, head tilted, humming to a song you knew all too well while it danced with the breeze. 

Yunho bent down beside you on the empty, clean baby blue towel, the corners still stiff and bent from how it was folded in San’s linen closet, the print on it still bright, likely new. Your chin perked up with his presence, sunglasses perched on his nose, black hair already damp with sweat and mussed on his forehead, sun-kissed and angelic. Your mouth watered before he uttered a word. 

“You have sunscreen on?” Short, curt, filled with expectation. It wasn’t just the simple question forcing a rush of adrenaline to sweep through you, heart rate picking up, fingertips twitching against your skin, it was his tone; strong, composed, yet somehow condescending, as if you couldn’t remember to put your own sunscreen on. 

You nodded, the need to appease him curling low in your gut, the desire to make him pleased. His tongue clicked, words. You sputtered, “Yes, I put some on before we left the house.” 

“That was an hour and a half ago,” he sighed, running long, milky fingers through the damp black locks on his head. “I’ll get some.”

He used his palms braced on his thighs to stand again and your neck twisted to Mingi on the far towel, raising your brows.

Mingi gave you a small shrug, Here we go. 

You glanced around the group, taking in everyone’s whereabouts. San and Jongin laid out on beach chairs beneath the sun, carved abdomens dipped in honey, shiny and slicked by sunscreen and sweat. Hongjoong and Seonghwa were down by the shore, mid-conversation, hats blanketing their hair, ankle-deep in the water. Tzuyu, Jihyo and Sana laid in a line to your left, gossiping, drinking, bodies a contrast to the towels beneath them. 

Wooyoung had dragged Jongho and Yeosang into the sand off to your right, convincing the two men to bury him. You think Wooyoung started drinking when his eyes opened this morning. 

You felt Yunho’s presence at your back like a shadow, a promise of unfinished business. He leaned in tight, next to your ear, “This drink is the only one you’ll have today.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat, but you nodded. You didn’t ask permission before drinking it. His silence, his lack of movement, snapped you back into place, back straightening. “Yes.” 

“Yes what?” 

Fuck. You could genuinely moan at his tone, the way he’s biting his words, silvery in what he expects of you, the power he holds in two small words. Maybe he wants you all fuzzy and moldable, like jelly, testing your ability to control yourself and keep your focus on him. 

“Yes, sir,” it’s a mere mumble under your breath, head tucked down, just low enough for him to hear. You can feel Mingi’s eyes on you, you wonder if he heard, too, or if your cowering body is lost on him. 

Yunho hums in satisfaction, “Sit on your knees, I’ll get your back.” 

You don’t hesitate to tuck your knees under your body, ass pressed against your calves, the breeze on your now exposed tummy making you feel bare. Exposed in front of your friends. You can’t believe how it sends a deep pang of arousal through your entire fucking body. You hear the bottle open, lotion squirting into his hands, rubbing it together in his palms before he touches you. 

It’s like lightning hit you, how your entire body jerks at his touch, how his palm pressed to your skin makes your thighs clench on command, excitement thrumming beneath your skin. You can blame it on this morning, how he left you tightly wound and needy, the rules swimming in your mind, but the truth was that any time his skin touches yours it’s electrifying, it reminds you of all the times he’s fucked you brainless, it makes you ache for more. 

He rubs the lotion onto your back slowly, massaging it in, you couldn’t tell if his movements were erotic or if your brain had dropped to the gutter. Over your hips, the sides of your waist, the tops of your shoulders, the backs of your arms, each movement was controlled, slow in a way that let you feel each point of pressure, how he was studying you as he worked the lotion onto your skin. Your neck inevitably bends, head drooping, shoulders slouching, despite the lotion being cold, his hands on you were so warm. Your thighs untensed, knees breaking apart, lungs emptying themselves into the summer air, it felt so fucking good to have his hands on you. 

One palm smoothes up your spine, fingers curling around the back of your neck, the other hand squeezing your hip over the waistband of your bottoms. “Up,” he bites, the singular word a nasty whisper. “Pathetic for you to lose your composure over sunscreen.”

You were grateful for your sunglasses– no one could see your eyes fluttering at his words. Your back straightens, knees kissing once more, hands folded in your lap. “Good girl,” his voice is still too low for anyone else to hear, if anyone was paying attention. It probably seemed like Yunho was just being friendly, helpful, putting sunscreen on your hard to reach places. 

It didn’t look like that at all to Jongho and Yeosang, sunglasses shading their eyes as they scooped sand onto Wooyoung’s body, hands going motionless with each curve of Yunho’s fingers on your skin. 

“Are you seeing this too?” Jongho asked the older man, eyebrows furrowed, his voice laced with confusion.

Yeosang nods, “And Mingi’s just watching. I’d lose my shit if you touched Tzuyu like that.”

“I’d fucking kill you if you looked at Jihyo like that,” Jongho agrees. Their eyes linger, watching how Yunho leans in close to your ear, how your back straightens, body locking all over again. 

Wooyoung’s head peeks up from the sand, “What am I missing?” 

“Do you think she’s cheating on Mingi?” Yeosang asks, sitting back on his heels. 

“What?” Wooyoung sits up straight, the layer of wet sand on top of him cracking and falling in chunks onto his lap. The two other men groaned, knowing they were going to have to put it back on him in a moment's time. 

Jongho shakes his head, “Mingi’s watching, no way she’d cheat, and no way Yunho would do that to him. Plus, he's never been territorial.”

Wooyoung’s neck stretches forward like he was squinting to see beneath his sunglasses. “Mingi doesn’t care if you flirt, I think giving her a back massage in front of the entire group is different.” His head tilts to the side. “But yeah, he really is just watching. Huh.”

“Interesting,” Yeosang’s lips scrunch, but he brings his head of red hair back to Wooyoung. “Lay down and let us restart, dumbass.”

After getting a slew of pictures of Wooyoung’s bronzed body buried beneath the sand, a mermaid tail packed over his legs, fake abs drawn onto his abdomen, the still-giggling men came back over to the group, covered in sand head to toe. 

Wooyoung ran a hand through his hair, shooting back a mouthful from his can, “Anyone wanna go swimming?”

Jongho and Yeosang were behind him, sweaty and beautiful, sand on their exposed bodies like a second layer of skin. You blinked at them, silent, because you didn’t wanna swim, part of you was scared that if you stood, someone would notice the patch of wetness on your bikini bottoms, despite them being black. Your fear held no bounds, no logic, but it was enough for you not to move a muscle. 

Mingi leaned into Yunho, whispering something in his ear. 

“Can I go?” Too low for your ears to catch, Mingi gave Yunho puppy eyes from below his shades, his voice sweet as candy. 

Yunho gave him a short nod, forgoing a rule for Mingi’s appropriate execution of another, your boyfriend hopped up, a smile on his face, following behind his friends down to the shore. His dimpled lower back above the green shorts, how they scrunched around his thighs, the muscles in his shoulders too defined as he jogged away, fuck. You felt like an animal. A perverted, sex-crazed freak with the way your bottom lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him, how your toes dug into the towel beneath you. 

You laid on your back instead, trying to rid your mind of the thoughts, of the expectations over your head. Taking a deep breath to ground yourself, to stop being so fucking horny on the blazing beach with all your friends around you. 

Yunho’s empty can pressed against your arm. 

You turned your head to see his jaw in a steady line, his brows raised. Shit. You stood up, walking over to the cooler in three steps, grabbing him another drink. You opened it for him, he thanked you as you handed it to him, you smiled as you took the empty one. 

Even doing something this small, this insignificant, had goosebumps raising on your body. Doing it for him.  

Yunho was facing you when you got back to your towel, laying back again, hands laying at your sides. His voice was quiet, soft in a way that meant he was just checking in, “How are you feeling?”

“Good,” you answer in a smooth breath. 

“Give me something better than that,” he frowns, voice lowering in volume, “I don’t want to ask you to throw a color all day, if I ask you how you’re feeling, give me words. Tell me what you’re feeling.” 

You sit up on your elbows, sunglasses sliding down to the bridge of your nose. The first word that comes to mind, “Stimulated.” You smile, head tilting, “Hot, a little frustrated. Mostly eager.” 

He smiles, “That’s good, right where I want you.” He leans back on his own elbows, his can buried in the sand beside him, between you. “Sometimes I think you were meant for this, y’know. You take structure well, you perform easily with it.” 

“That’s because I enjoy it,” you respond, words coming easily, the alcohol making your lips loose. “More than I’m supposed to, I think. I like it the other way around too, sometimes.”

He quiets, watching Mingi out on the water. “You both switch. I wonder what I’ll do with you both sometimes.” 

Your lip curls in gratitude as you lean your head towards him. “You’ve changed since spending time with us too, you know. Maybe you don’t need to do anything, maybe the three of us are fine how we are.” 

He turns his head tight, but doesn’t say anything. You stare through your shades, holding your ground, hoping he feels what you said, and doesn’t cower in fear because what you have is real. He jerks his head to the towel next to him, voice unyielding once again, “Over here.” 

You push yourself up without a word, cleaning off your towel before you grab your drink and move to Mingi’s towel, laying back down, all without question or hesitation. Yunho smiles, pride etched into the curve of his lips, “Good.” 

The praise sets you ablaze all over again. 

When Mingi returns, water dripping down his body, dark hair pushed back by his fingers, Yunho already had a towel in hand. Up by the umbrella, you watched with your head tilted back as Yunho ordered him over by just a nod of his head. 

“Water feels so good,” he beamed, sandy feet walking between your towels, shedding droplets of water from his swim shorts as he walked past. He didn’t even notice you’d switched spots, or if he did, he didn’t say anything. 

He reached a hand out to grab the towel from Yunho’s grip, but the older man shook his head, “I got it.” 

Mingi stood dumbfounded for a moment, but turned around to face the three boys’ gaze who walked up from the water, also dripping saltwater, coated in sunshine. You were sure Mingi’s skin was burning as Yunho dried him off, slowly wiping the towel across his wet skin, on his hair. You bit your cheek. For someone who didn’t want anyone to know, he wasn’t exactly being discreet, but you supposed no one noticed Yunho at the going away party, either. 

“They’re so weird,” Sana mumbled under her breath, on her stomach, elbows holding the weight of her upper body. She dipped her sunglasses down to the bridge of her nose, watching Mingi and Yunho across the sand. 

Jihyo and Tzuyu turned over on their towels, looking at Sana to see where her eyes were locked, then focusing in on the scene before them. 

Tzuyu smiled, “Yunho’s so sweet, it must be nice for them to be so close.” 

Jihyo squinted. The way Yunho’s hands dragged up Mingi’s body, his fingers curled over Mingi’s shoulder, how he leaned in to say something in his ear. She had a feeling since that morning, catching Yunho in your apartment, but brushed it off because you wouldn’t lie about something like that. Especially not to her. She would never judge you for having a threesome. 

But Mingi’s head dipped down, eyes on his own crotch, mumbling a few words in response, and Jihyo’s lip curled. There’s no fucking way. She turned her head, “I caught Yunho at their apartment, you know.” 

Sana and Tzuyu’s heads snapped to Jihyo, eyebrows raised, silently saying continue. Jihyo sighed, “Yunho was shirtless, towel on his waist, he had just gotten out of the shower. In their living room. Mingi had on boxers, she looked just-fucked. They said he was only there to shower because he had no water.” 

“Doesn’t he live right around the corner from Joong and Hwa?” Sana asked. “If he didn’t have any water, why didn’t he just go there for a quick shower instead of traveling across the damn country?” 

“They’re close,” Tzuyu leaned in, forever devil's advocate. “Would you go to Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s for a shower if Ji was home?” 

“First of all, girls are different,” Sana shook her head. “Also, yes. They have a waterfall shower, and those jets in the walls for your body, plus Seonghwa uses that really good body wash from—”

“Exactly!” Jihyo cuts in. “Literally exactly my point. There’s something going on there, right? I’m not crazy?” 

“Definitely not crazy,” Sana shook her head again. “Remember how Yunho snapped at me last night, too? When has he ever done something like that?” 

“Maybe he was tired,” Tzuyu’s voice was small, like she didn’t believe the words that were coming out of her own mouth. “I don’t know girls… They've been together forever. Do you really think Yunho would be involved with them… intimately?”

Jihyo shakes her head, lips scrunched, disappointed that you’d keep something so important from her. She even insinuated it, and you said no. “Who knows what goes on with them anymore. It’s not like we get any details.” 

Yunho is more than pleased when Mingi cleans off the left side towel for Yunho, then the center one for himself, after Yunho nodded his head in silent direction, instruction in his body language only. 

You were buzzing. You were both following instruction cleanly, discreetly, you were passing with flying fucking colors, you wondered if your ability to obey made him any more inclined to be your boyfriend. Your boyfriend’s boyfriend. You wish you could be inside his brain so desperately. 

Yunho stood, brushing the sand off his multicolored, patterned shorts, throwing his sunglasses back on the towel. You sat up involuntarily, knowing if he moved, you moved with him. 

He didn’t look back as he started for the shore. You stood, Mingi following, within arm’s reach as you flanked him down the beach, to the water. None of you knew you had eyes on you the entire time. Or that Wooyoung approached San the moment you walked away. 

You minded your surroundings as you breached the shore, no sign of Hongjoong or Seonghwa, they must be on a walk, or back at the house. You’ve been so laser focused on Yunho and Mingi you almost forgot everyone else was there. 

“Min said the water’s nice,” Yunho looked to you, then over to Mingi on his other side, mischief dancing in his eyes. “Wanna swim?” 

You nodded, even if you didn’t have a choice. You wondered where the line stood with things like this, if you didn’t want to swim, if the urge to obey wasn’t so heavy. Would you be punished? For something measly like swimming? 

Ice wraps around your ankles, your calves, your body shaking, hissing the deeper you went into the sea. Mingi and Yunho dove in, completely unaffected, fully submerged by the time you got up to your hips. “Fuck, it’s cold, fuck,” you had your arms tucked tight to your chest, slowly wading deeper into the water while they swam a few feet out, laying under the sun for hours would have made the warmest water freezing. 

“How the hell are you guys so deep?” You yell across the waves that crashed against your abdomen, water reaching your belly button. “It’s fucking cold.” 

“Don’t be a baby,” Mingi teased, grinning, hair melted around his face, flat against the curves of his cheekbones. 

“And watch your mouth,” Yunho added, also teasing, smiling, on his back as he floated in the water. You scoffed, then faced the water before you, you’d have to rip the bandaid off if you were ever gonna be comfortable in the water. 

“Just go underwater, baby,” Mingi called again. “You can do it. I believe in you.” 

You scowled, eyes pointed, jaw locked. “It’s too fucking cold.” 

Yunho’s smile widens, listening to your complaints, drinking them all in. You hissed again, dipping your fingers into the sea, up to your forearms, legs pushing against the moving water to get deeper. Up to your waist, below the tie of your bikini top, you finally said fuck it and sank beneath the surface. 

Holding your nose, you gasped when you came back out to the salty air colder, ice consuming you head to toe. The two men just feet away cheered. 

“Come here, baby, swim over,” Mingi called out, ushering you over with one hand. Breathless from the cold, you wiped the saltwater out of your eyes, blinking through the sting as you swam closer to them. Clinging onto your boyfriend’s front for life, he tucked one arm under your ass as you moved his hair out of his face. He smiled proudly, eyes bronzy beneath the sun, “It’s nice, right?” 

You still shivered in his hold, but smiled playfully, he’s so handsome it hurts. “Fuck, fuck you.” 

“Curse again,” Yunho taunts from a foot away, swimming closer, affection in his voice. His eyes go over your head, scanning the beach behind you, before they land back on you, just as icy as the water. “See what happens.” 

“I’m sorry,” you whine, “it’s cold.” 

“I’m in the water with you, quit whining,” he muses, coming closer. “I’ll give you something to whine about. Is that what you want?” 

Arousal licks up your spine, you twitch in Mingi’s hold, but you shake your head. Yunho’s head tilts, “You sure, baby? You’ve been fidgeting all day, bet you’re feeling empty by now, aren’t you?” 

You’ve been doing so good. Keeping up with his rules, being obedient, focused, you didn’t think your arousal was noticeable at all. You shake your head again even if Mingi could feel your thighs clench, “No. No, I’m fine.” 

Yunho’s hands tug on your hips below the water, turning you until your back is pressed against Mingi’s chest, slotting himself between your floating legs. Mingi keeps his hands on your waist as your breath goes shaky, eyes widening, “Y-Yunho they can see—”

“Mingi is blocking us, they can’t see this far out,” Yunho cuts you off. “This body is mine. You don’t get to question me, you don’t get to worry. That’s my job.”

Even in the water, being held up by your boyfriend, he still feels so fucking big in front of you. You swallow, looking up at him through lashes coated in saltwater, voice as small as you felt, “O-okay.”

“You take what I give you, when I choose to give it,” he tilts his head, hands sliding down your thighs, thumbs curling into your plush skin, feeling so soft beneath the water. “Understood?” 

“Yes, sir,” you nod, and he grins. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to your lips, hands sliding up your hips, up to your waist, over Mingi’s hands. He breaks away just to press a kiss to Mingi’s lips, too. 

Your heart is racing in your chest. Intimidation, adrenaline, the press of cold surrounding you, concern about someone seeing you. 

He leans back, keeping himself close. “Tell me what you’re feeling.” 

“Horny,” you blurt and he laughs. You shake your head, smile on your face, “Overwhelmed.”

His eyes look up to Mingi behind you, who responds, “Also horny. Stretched thin.” 

“Color?”

“Green,” you and Mingi respond simultaneously without missing a beat. 

“Don’t be scared,” Yunho shakes his head, grabbing your wrists lightly, sliding them onto his abdomen. “Do you trust me?” 

You nod, “Yes, sir.” 

His eyes jump to Mingi who didn’t realize Yunho was talking to him too, in a rush he responds, “Yes, sir.” 

“Then make me cum.” 

Mingi keeps a knee beneath you as his hands race to Yunho’s waistband, reaching in to feel Yunho’s cock that wasn’t even hard. Mingi looks up at Yunho who smiles, “The water’s real cold.” 

At the shoreline, Hongjoong and Seonghwa had almost returned from their walk, fingers interlocked, legs moving at the same pace, mirroring each other’s movements. A mile down the beach, a mile back, the sun was warm, the water cooled them down, they loved everything about the beach. They’d get married on the beach, one day, soon. 

Standing in the shallow water, arms stretched by how Seonghwa kicks about the waves and sand, Hongjoong stops him. “Baby, Hwa.” Seonghwa looks up, his attention grabbed, Hongjoong’s chin dips in the direction of the sea, a little ways out from where they stood, “Is that Yunho out there with them?”

Seonghwa puts a hand atop his eyes, shielding his vision, squinting beneath his glasses. “I think so. Maybe they stopped fighting.” 

A theory the two had going from the time you’ve spent at San’s beach house so far, one they discussed before going to bed last night, a silly question from Hongjoong’s mouth that Seonghwa couldn’t believe he caught on to, too. From your reactions when choosing rooms to the bonfire yesterday to breakfast this morning, Hongjoong and Seonghwa have been keeping an eye on you three, reading your body language, your interactions. 

“Oh shit,” Hongjoong’s jaw dropped when Yunho leaned in to kiss you. “Oh shit,” he smacked Seonghwa’s arm when Yunho kissed Mingi, too. 

“What? What did you see?” Seonghwa is leaning in, bending forward, fidgeting where he stood, angling his head around to see. 

“They kissed, Hwa,” Hongjoong is whispering, his voice coated in sheer disbelief, “they fucking kissed!” 

“Who kissed?” Seonghwa raises himself on his tippy toes as if he wasn’t already taller than his boyfriend who could see clearly, “Joong! Who kissed?” 

“Yunho kissed both of them,” Hongjoong’s hand moved to Seonghwa’s forearm, “Holy shit.” 

“Holy shit,” Seonghwa whispers, a small mumble, his eyes widening beneath his sunglasses. “No- no, what are they doing now?” 

Hongjoong breaks out in a wide grin, before a disbelieving laugh punches through his lips. “You’ve gotta be kidding me. In public? In ocean water? People pee in there. Fish pee in there.” 

“I feel like we’re intruding,” Seonghwa shakes his head, turning away. “We’re definitely not supposed to see this. We shouldn’t watch. This is an invasion of privacy.” 

“They’re hooking up on the beach! They’re lucky there’s no one else out here.” 

“This section is private,” Seonghwa turns away fully. “San owns it, or something like that, I don’t know how it works. Plus, we can’t see what’s happening under the water, they could be—”

“You mean to tell me they aren’t jerking him off right now?” Hongjoong’s orange brows bend over the frame of his sunglasses, his smile completely amused. 

Seonghwa cringes, but turns around again to meet Hongjoong’s grinning cheeks. He looks out in the water, studying, frowning, “I don’t know if she’s doing anything. It might just be Mingi and Yunho.” 

“Okay, but still,” Hongjoong smacks his teeth. “They’re seconds away from fucking in the ocean. Am I wrong?” 

Seonghwa’s lips flatten, “Don’t say anything. They didn’t seem okay yesterday and today they’re inseparable, so clearly they’re figuring something out, and keeping it private.”

Hongjoong pouts, “Boo.” 

Seonghwa smiles, leaning in to press a soft kiss to his boyfriend’s lips, “Do the right thing, my love.” 

“You’re right,” Hongjoong sighs, looking out in the water again. "That's so juicy, though. In the middle of the ocean for anyone to see is crazy.” 

You feel dizzy on your walk back up. Frustration curls low in your gut, a pestering weed left alone for too long, growing at a rapid pace through your veins, into your limbs, your chest. You needed to get off. Your composure was running scarily thin. 

“Can I go to the bathroom when we get back up?” You ask Yunho, fingers laced with Mingi’s, both walking behind him, you on his left side, Mingi on his right. 

“Are you gonna touch yourself?” He looks over his shoulder, brows raised. 

You shake your head, “No, sir. Just need to pee.” 

He nods, small, but permission-granting. 

You didn’t say anything to anyone as you walked past the group, up to the house, to the outhouse tucked into the side of the property. It was more like a shack, no roof, thin bamboo walls to separate the toilet from the shower, nothing was enclosed except for the main door which was latched shut. 

You eased a breath as you put the black steel hook through the matching loop, running your hands through your hair, eyes squeezing shut while the throbbing between your thighs becomes too much to bear in the silence of the bathroom. 

Just for cursing.  Just for complaining about the water being cold. 

He’s mean. He’s so fucking mean. You asked for this, he reminded you three times, but the words that left his mouth, so degrading, so teasing, all while being passed between them like a fucking doll. All while neither of them touched you. That was almost worse than having your orgasm ripped from you this morning, watching, listening to them pleasure each other, while being on the sidelines but also right fucking between them, you don’t know if you can do it. 

You don’t know if you can take him like this. Mean, arrogant, purposely denying you pleasure because you haven’t earned it yet. You’ve been good all day. You deserve it.

You sit on the toilet with furrowed brows, knees kissing, toes touching the wood beneath you. Your clit cries for attention, throbbing, buzzing, there’s a streak of wetness in your bikini bottoms that was too fucking slick to be washed away by the ocean. Your body feels tight, wound-up, aching for attention. 

You could probably get away with it if you touched yourself. He’s not in the bathroom with you, he’s down at the shore with Mingi, with your friends, he’d never know.  Your thighs clench at the thought, it wouldn’t even take long. You could probably get off in thirty seconds. Your jaw clenches, fingers curling to fists on top of your thighs. Don’t do it, your subconscious screamed at you. He’ll know. 

You swallowed, taking a deep, grounding breath. Your need to obey, to please him, outweighed the ache. At least that’s what you told yourself while you wiped. You opened the latch after washing your hands to be met with Yunho standing outside the door. You jumped, a gasp leaving your lips, “Shit, you scared me.” 

“Give me your hand.” 

You stared at him dumbfounded before the instinct kicked in. He pulled your fingers to his nose as soon as you lifted your palm, sniffing deeply. Just his fucking touch made your thighs clench. 

“You didn’t touch yourself,” he says it like he’s surprised. 

Biting your lip, you shake your head. “No, sir.” 

He leans in, pressing a kiss to your forehead, moving to push past you and you want to scream. He’s even denying you a kiss to your fucking lips?!

“I can’t do it anymore,” you whisper. 

He leans back, brows furrowed. “Can’t do what?”

“I need you to touch me,” your voice cracks on touch. “I need you to kiss me, I need you to fix whatever is happening to me right now. I’m gonna freak the fuck out.” 

His eyes thin, jaw settling and god you want to sit on his face. “You don’t need anything.” 

“Yunho,” you fall forward, forehead pressing against his still-wet chest, hands landing on his hips, the soft skin just above his swim shorts. “I need you. I can’t take it anymore.” 

His neck cranes side to side, a heavy sigh pushing through his lips, his hand landing on top of your hair, fingers massaging at your scalp. “I’m teaching you submission,” he says into your hair, his voice steady. “It’s what you asked for. This is what it would be like. You can say red if you want to stop.”

Red feels like giving up, failing the test. You’re frustrated, but not enough to say the three lettered word that would end it all. You’re wound tight, clit still throbbing for attention, but the need to impress him aches worse. 

You stare at him blankly, saying nothing. His lips curve, standing back a step. “You have your answer then.”

“Wait,” you interject, pleading with your hands on his chest. “Why did Mingi get to cum, then? How is he any more well-behaved than I am?”

“You didn’t follow the rules,” he shrugs, answering plainly. “I don’t have to give you a reason, if I don’t want you to cum, then you don’t cum. Your body is mine to do as I see fit.”

“I can’t,” you whine, hands going into your roots, frustrated. You don’t even know what was going to follow the two words, what’s left to say after that. 

“Stop whining,” he bites. “It’s ugly, and you’re not ugly.” 

Your bottom lip quivers, leaning into him, hiding your frustrated face. “I’ve been good.”

“And that’s ending now, I guess.”  “Yunho.”

“Are you acting like this because you want to get punished?” Two hands on your cheeks, he pulls you away from his chest, forcing you to look up at him. “Purposely whining to piss me off, even when I gave you clear, concise instructions for the day?”

You shake your head, ears tipping with heat. You can feel the heat everywhere. Shame, arousal, they blend together with the need to appease him, to impress him, you’re fighting against your own instincts.

“Then listen,” he snaps. “That’s the last time I’m going to say it.”

Jongin sees you as he leaves the house. He grabbed his keys from the rack in the kitchen after the group decided to go out for an early dinner, a place that served bar-food just down the street. You, standing with your head in Yunho’s chest, until he grabs you by your cheeks and tilts your head backward, talking to you… sternly? He stays pocketed behind the tall pampas grass, watching through leaves, his heart picking up in his chest. Is he catching something he isn’t supposed to?

Somehow, he moves far enough to where neither of you see him, and makes his way back down to the beach. He has to tell San, he has to tell Mingi– should he even get involved? Considering what Wooyoung told him and San earlier, there’s a chance Mingi is in on it, too. 

“Got our keys,” he smiled briefly at San. “We should wait until they get back.” 

San lifts a brow, “Did you see them? Any treachery?” 

Jongin shakes his head quickly, not exactly sure why his gut tells him to lie. “I saw him inside, she was outside. No treachery to be seen.” 

San’s lift lips in distaste. “Boring.” 

Jongin feels bad lying to his boyfriend of three years, the man who changed everything about himself for Jongin, the yin to his yang. But this felt out of his control, a little too heavy for the friend group to be throwing around so easily, it's more than gossip. You, Mingi, you’ve been together for so long… longer than he’s known San. From what he’s learned, you’ve been together longer than any of the couples here. 

Except for Hongjoong and Seonghwa. Maybe. He’d have to ask San for clarification on that one. 

It wasn’t long until you and Yunho were bouncing back down the beach, wide grins on your faces and damn, his conscience feels heavy after lying. You bend down to press a kiss on Mingi’s lips and the way he grins with stars in his eyes tells Jongin enough. He’d keep his mouth closed for now. But if you and Yunho were any more obvious, if you take another risk— maybe someone else wouldn’t be as nice. 

There’s bamboo everywhere. Sand under your feet, surf boards lining the baby blue, wooden walls, the roof coated in thatch, the tiki bar–cafe-restaraunt whatever the fuck was the pinnacle of everything Haos claims to be. An escape, another world, somewhere the wealthy pride themselves in vacationing, it reminded you to breathe. To enjoy everything around you, your friends’ laughter, how the sun just beginning to sink was now far less brutal, the way Mingi and Yunho both had a claiming hand on either one of your thighs under the long, wooden picnic table. 

“Don’t speak unless spoken to,” with one hand on either of your shoulders, Yunho walked in the center of you and Mingi in the parking lot, one step behind you after you climbed out of Jongin’s Jeep. 

You were still playing. Stomach still churning, body still wound tight, you wished you could force yourself to believe that you wouldn’t explode if someone didn’t touch you soon. Still embarrassed over your outburst earlier, not being able to handle what you asked of him, most of you was glad he didn’t give in– even if arousal kept your body temperature heated to a low-grade fever.

Mingi, free as a bird, was giggling to himself at something Wooyoung said across from you, his face sunkissed, his forehead, the tip of his nose, like the sun shone down on Mingi alone. Maybe it did, your irresistible boyfriend with a heart of gold, you wouldn’t be surprised if the sun woke up every morning hoping just to see him. The sound was music to your ears, you leaned your head on his shoulder, hands holding onto the small, laminated menu. 

You flexed your thighs, I missed you guys.  The answering squeezes to your skin told you they missed you just as much. 

“Today went by too fast,” San shook his head of messy black hair to the left of Mingi, it was a rare sight to see him unkempt. San was always dressed to the nines, hair gelled back, face chiseled, the face of masculinity. Seeing him with pink cheeks and an affectionate grin made your heart swarm with affection, you loved it most when the group left business behind and lived in the moment instead. “I need to have you guys here more often.”

“Invite us then,” Wooyoung teased back, still shirtless, sitting on the end of the table across from Yunho. Skin bronzed and glowing, he reminded you of some kind of Greek God, like him and summer had a contract. “We’ll come when you call.”

Jongho leaned forward, his flower-patterned shirt unbuttoned and dragging along the picnic table, his dark hair messily sprawled across his forehead, sunglasses still sitting over his eyes. “Says the one who lives three states away.”

Wooyoung laughs, leaning forward, looking to his right to see Jongho almost at the other end of the table, “I’m here, aren’t I?”

“At the risk of being fired, I’m sure,” Hongjoong smirks, the only person to his right Seonghwa, who held the end of the table. The pair still had their matching hats on, sunglasses resting above the brim, the only two whose faces were unaffected by the sun’s rays. Maybe you should all invest in hats, the sun was inescapable in Haos. 

Yunho leans in, eyes dancing between each speaker, “Are you gonna get fired?”

Wooyoung shakes his head with his face scrunched like his company wouldn’t dream of firing him. Sana’s dark eyebrows raised, glossed lips falling in a line like he wasn’t telling the whole truth, the sight made a snort fall from your nose. When Wooyoung noticed, he nudged her side, scoffing, “You know they won’t fire me, they need me. You’re supposed to be on my side, Sana.”

You lean back with a laugh, hand covering your mouth, so stupid it was funny. You missed him so much, and if the possibility of Wooyoung getting fired was any indication, you think he missed you guys just as much. 

“We should take pictures after dinner, at sunset on the beach,” Tzuyu chimes in, sitting in her crochet cover up between Yeosang and Jongin at the end of the table on your side. “No dressing up, just in our bathing suits with some drinks, candid style.”

Jihyo and Sana agree, nodding, sitting next to each other like two peas in a pod. “We should get couples shots, too,” Jihyo adds, dark hair waved by saltwater covering her bikini top, “Jongho and I haven’t taken a proper picture together in so long.”

“Woo and I need pictures for our holiday cards,” Sana agrees, nodding, already leaning into Jihyo. Wooyoung, with his sunglasses pushing his hair off his face, silently groans from beside her. You giggle at his face, stealing Sana’s attention. 

Before she could open her mouth, San leaned forward, talking across you and Mingi, “Yun, we need to get you a girlfriend so you can be involved, too.”

You stop laughing immediately like San had reached over and stolen the smile from your face. You blink as Yunho’s hand jumps from your thigh, your body stiffening, trying not to let your eyes widen, to show surprise or discomfort on your face while a sharp pang of something sour hits your chest. 

“We could ask a random girl from the bar to pretend,” Wooyoung snickers, eyes locked with San’s.

Jongho laughs, a high-pitched, amused sound, “We’d have to pry him away from those two first.”

Yours and Mingi’s attention jumps to Jongho, who eyes you both, mischief in his eyes. Yeosang, with his elbow on the table, props his chin on his cheek, staring down at Yunho, asks, “What happened to that girl from Woo’s going away party?” 

Yunho shakes his head of chocolate locks inflated by humidity. Voice clear like he wasn’t bothered at all, he answers, “Just didn’t work out.”

Your body is on fire. So badly you wanted to tell them all to stop speaking about the past, to not bring up a future that isn’t centered around yourself and Mingi. Yunho is yours. 

“Are you okay?” You pick your head up to Jihyo who was eyeing you carefully, eyes pointed, jaw set. “You look sunburnt.”

You shake your head, forcing an easy smile on your face, “I’m fine, probably am sunburnt.”

“How? Yunho put sunscreen on you, like, four times,” San wore a slimy grin, the table erupting with laughter. 

“It was once,” you counter, eyes narrowed, tone biting. “And I can’t reach my back.”

“You’re quiet, Mingi,” Wooyoung interrupts, and Mingi’s eyes pick up, wide and doe-like. 

“What do you want me to say?” He asks, brows furrowing, head tilting like Wooyoung said something stupid. You smile. Yunho puts his hand back on your thigh. 

Like a saving grace, the waiter finally approaches your table, breaking your conversation to ask for your order. Yunho orders for you, then for Mingi, exactly what both of you would have chosen if you’d ordered for yourself. You felt eyes on you as Yunho finished, but you didn’t dare meet a single person’s stare. You didn’t want to know what their eyes would tell you. 

You didn’t have to guess, not when San spoke after the waiter left your table, his voice a blanket over one end of the table to the other. “Am I crazy? Is anyone else seeing this, or is it just me?”

The three of your heads pick up in a line. The table is quiet, the only thing you can hear is the reggae music, soft from the speakers, dissipating into the summer breeze. Low, far but close, it melts into the sound of waves, offsetting how thick the tension had become at the table. 

San’s face bulges out, bewildered, “No one’s gonna say anything?” He turns to you three and your heart falls into your ass. “Are you three together?” You swallow the bile in your throat. “Are you fucking?”

“No,” Yunho’s answer comes before your lips could part. The word is rigid, a wall, a finality. You look at Mingi who’s already looking at Yunho, his eyes so big, so round, you can hear your heartbeat over the music, the breeze, the waves. No. 

Yunho even laughs a little. “Come on, are you serious?”

You glance at Jihyo who’s already looking at you like she knows everything. Like your skin was transparent, and she could see your heart cracking beneath your ribs all over again. 

“You’ve been joined at the hip all day,” Wooyoung’s grin is feline, like he wasn’t done prying for information. “Can’t blame our minds for going there, can you?”

You and Mingi don’t smile, don’t laugh. You can’t pretend. Yunho takes a sip of his drink, “They’ve been together for years, you know we’re close. It’s weird that your mind would go there.” 

Weird. It’s weird. He’s not yours at all. You feel like ice under the summer sun, melting too quickly, soon you’ll be a puddle darkening the sand beneath you if you don’t remove yourself from the situation. You refuse to let any of them see you upset. You hate that a part of you doesn’t want them to know if Yunho doesn’t want them to know.

You look at Mingi, I’m going to the bathroom. 

He nods once, eyes glossy, you wish you could bring him with you. Pushing yourself up with your palms on the table, you swing a leg over the bench and don’t look back, don’t listen to a single word as you nearly run to the bathroom. Your skin is on fire, there’s no air conditioning in the small two-stall bathroom with baby blue walls, it’s suffocating. 

You stand at the sink, throwing cold water on your face, two hands hooked around the white ceramic to force yourself to calm the fuck down. What was last night for? What did you talk about all of that shit for? What did you fuck for? Now you feel fucking stupid for today, for thinking you’d pass a test he was never proctoring. It all felt redundant. Pointless. 

The door swings open, you don’t move. “Are you okay?”

Jihyo, smiling softly, apologetically. Your lips tighten, you refuse to let tears fall. You refuse to repeat what happened last time. You should have expected this. 

“All good,” you force a smile. “I think I got too much sun today.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” she leans in the middle of the two sinks, shoulder pressed to the wall between the mirrors, one manicured hand on your forearm. “Did he lie?”

You huff amusement, it lacks any semblance of warmth. “Yeah, he lied.”

“Fucking asshole,” she crosses her arms. “What’s with him and commitment? That day I came over, I knew it, I knew what he was there for.”

All you can do is shake your head, “I don’t know, Ji.”

“How long has it been?”

You hum before answering. “A month? Five weeks maybe?”

“Damn,” she shakes her head. “The way he looks at you… I don’t understand him. I don’t understand the denial.”

You give her another weak smile. “Don’t tell the others. Please.”

“I won’t,” she scrunches her lips to one side. “You still have Mingi, though. And Mingi has you.”

“Thank god for that, right?” Your smile is only half-fake now, moving away from the sink, pressing your back against one of the stalls. “Although I think he’ll be more upset than I am.”

“He was holding it together out there,” Jihyo shifts to lean her butt against the sink, head tilting. “Why didn’t you tell me the truth from the start?”

You shrug, lips flat. “It was instinctive, we hadn’t talked about it yet. After you left that day he freaked out, we fought, we only worked that situation out last night.”

“He said you’d tell people?”

You tilt your head, showing your bottom row of teeth, “Not exactly. More so that we’re more comfortable being in a gray area now, our feelings out on the table, working towards something. We weren’t expecting anyone to call us on it.”

“They’re such assholes for airing out your business,” she pushes herself off the sink, taking two steps toward you to throw her arms over your shoulders, tucking you into a hug. “I’m sorry, you guys will figure it out.”

You let your eyes close, sucking as much comfort as you can from the hug, “I hope so. Thanks, Ji.”

She pulls away to cup your cheeks, “You know you can talk to me, right? Let me in, I can be a shoulder to cry on.”

You nod, fingers wrapping around her wrists, “I will.”

The rest of dinner was damn near silent. Yunho was in your head with apologies, none you answered, you didn’t want to talk to him or hear him out. Mingi answered once or twice, short responses, it was clear the two of you were hurt and needed time to reset your feelings again. You didn’t want to argue, or settle your feelings in the bedroom again, you’d done that already. It clearly didn’t work. Pictures on the beach were swift, yours and Mingi’s were all fake smiles and silence, watching the live photos in your camera roll made your skin crawl. You don’t think you or Mingi said five words between dinner and bedtime, until it was the three of you in your bedroom again. 

Yunho actually had the audacity to pull down the comforter. You stopped him with your palm splayed flat on the right side of the mattress, voice monotonous and bored, but your eyes shot daggers. “You can sleep downstairs.”

His brows raised, “Are you serious?”

You settled deeper beneath the comforter, Mingi still throwing on clothes after his shower. You hold his eye, “It’s weird that you’d try sleeping in our bed.”

His hands fall to his sides, all emotion wiped from his face. “I just said that so they would leave us alone.”

“You could have been honest,” you answer simply. “You could have laughed it off. You could have said anything other than it being weird, Yunho.” 

His face softens, “It wasn’t my intention to–”

“You don’t seem to have any intentions,” you cut him off. “You can sleep downstairs, like you were planning to last night.”

Lips bending, a slow nod, without another word he turns around, grabs a pillow and a blanket, and leaves your bedroom. Mingi, watching from the dresser, finally crawls into bed after Yunho closes the door behind him. 

You open your arms, welcoming him into your chest, fingers immediately scratching into his hair, pressing a kiss to his clean scalp that still smelled like seasalt, “You okay baby?”

“Tired,” he mumbles into your chest, voice deep and heavy. "Don't wanna do it anymore. Too confusing.”

“You wanna be done?” You pause, fingers stalling in his hair. He looks up at you, his eyes big and round, sad. You frown, one hand sliding down to graze his cheek. “We can be done.”

“I don’t want to,” his voice is so small, just barely above a whisper. “But I think it’s obvious we’ll end up being his secret forever. I don’t want to be a secret, I want him to be proud.”

“Me too,” you lean in to press a soft kiss to his lips. “I’m proud you’re my boyfriend, y’know.”

He smiles, “And I’m proud you’re my girlfriend.”

“That’s all we need,” you kiss him again, parting your lips for him, sinking farther down the mattress until he can roll on top of you, elbows bracketing your head. Throwing your arms around his neck, your legs over his thighs, you break the kiss to say, “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” he smiles into the kiss, body pressing into yours, and it’s the easy reminder that you’ll always have him, no matter what, that eases weight off your chest. 

It’s easy to pretend everything is okay when you lean into the reminder that Mingi will be by your side forever. It’s stuck with you since seven in the morning, when San abruptly woke up the house cracking a wooden spoon against a pot, screaming activities day over and over. He popped into your room with a wide grin, asked where Yunho was, and left your room as confused as he entered it.

Jet skiing, mini-golf, a barbecue, ending the night at Rêve, a reputable bar in town. San insisted that your last day should be filled with the best things Haos has to offer. Of course he left out the part that jet skiing was at the yacht club he was a member of, and that he owned shares at Rêve, making him part-owner; never humble until he was supposed to be, you wished he told you to be on your best behavior today. 

Not that your group would ever be on their best behavior. Wooyoung was already drinking by the time you went downstairs for breakfast, he made mimosas for everyone, you had two. The first you chugged after Yunho went upstairs immediately after you entered the kitchen, the second you chugged when he came back downstairs, shirtless, swim trunks painted onto his thighs. If you were going to be forced into activities with him all day, you should make it easier for yourself.

White buildings with terracotta roofing, there were too many buildings to count, a winding paved asphalt driveway up to the front where men in suits stood under a white awning, one approaching as San put his Bronco in park parallel to the main doors. It had valet. 

The yacht club was beautiful, massive, every nook and cranny of the main building screamed prestigious. All patrons you encountered were dressed up, some in sports wear for the golf course you could only assume is somewhere on the grounds, in long summer dresses or business-style suits, everyone seemed important. Everyone looked proper. Part of you felt out of place, with your group half-dressed in bathing suits and cover-ups like you were headed to the beach, but it didn’t last long when you got outside to where everything was docked.

Your mouth didn’t close once from the time you walked inside the heavy red doors all the way out to where he kept his jet skis docked, next to his boat, The Kai. Not a far walk, you realized, you assumed meant he was also a very important person here, too, the size of his boat only aided in the confirmation. 

He owned four jet skis, which meant four couples could ride at a time, leaving two couples and a Yunho out. Luckily he had a cooler fully stocked on his boat, one he and Jongin brought out to the dock while the first wave of people went out on the water. On the dock were Mingi, Jihyo, Jongho, and Yunho– of course, naturally. You sipped on a seltzer, sitting between Mingi and Jihyo, your feet dangling over the side, one arm behind you holding you up. 

Yunho sat on the other side of Jongho at the end and as much as you were grateful after you and Mingi threw in your white towels last night, it hurt that he wasn’t even trying. He didn’t even look at you, not once today, you think. At least when you got out on the water you and Mingi were smiling and laughing, he let you drive the jet ski, which he quickly regretted when he realized the watercraft turned you into an adrenaline junkie. 

Mini-golf was ten minutes from the yacht club, half of your group in San’s Bronco, the other half in Jongin’s Jeep. A standalone establishment that had a small course on the outside, an ice cream shop on the inside, and a small kitchen for bar-type food. The alcoholic bar itself was small, connected to the kitchen-half of the indoor space, but it didn’t stop your friend group from ordering a round of shots, cocktails, and beers for all. Even better, the tab at the bar plus admission for minigolf was all paid for by San. His treat, he said, and who were you to argue after seeing The Kai?

There were too many of you for one singular game, but the consensus amongst the group was that you wanted to play together. So instead of splitting your group in half to play two separate games, you played in pairs, and once again you and Mingi were thrown into a triplet, this one you didn’t agree to so easily. One shot down and a cocktail in your palm, no one could feel the tension between the three of you, the energy should be light at mini-golf. You mentally decide you’ll be civil. Maybe you’ll even try being friends. 

Mingi and Yunho both had beers in their hands, neither jumping for joy at the blue club you chose, it wasn’t the longest, and the two men you shared with were a hell of a lot taller than you. You stifled a laugh as Mingi uncomfortably hunched over the club as he lined up his feet, awkwardly swinging the club to hit the blue ball. 

“This game is fucked,” he stands up straight when the ball bounces off the back wall, missing the hole completely. The first hole is the easiest. 

You snort a laugh where you stand, watching his face morph into frustration, his brows knitting and lips parting like he couldn’t believe he missed. “You’ll get it next time,” you encourage, taking a sip of your cocktail. 

Hongjoong goes up next, he makes it in with one swing. Tzuyu goes next, she makes it in with one swing. Sana next, she makes it in with one swing. 

“This is fucking rigged,” Mingi curses, taking another sip from his beer. Yunho laughs under his breath as your arm comes up to rub his back encouragingly. 

“Don’t worry,” you coo. “Yunho and I will win for you.”

“I can play golf,” Mingi argues defensively. “The club is just short. Yunho won’t be able to do it, either.”

Jongho goes next, he makes it in with one swing. Mingi’s brows raise like he’s seconds away from losing his shit. Jongin next, he makes it in with one swing. Mingi’s fuck is loud enough for the children at hole thirteen to hear. 

“Don’t get us kicked out of minigolf, Min,” Wooyoung is still laughing, a hand clutching his belly. “We know you’re competitive, it’s just a kid’s game.”

“I know it’s a kid’s game,” Mingi bites, all in one breath, barely looking at the younger man as he says it. Your face is full of amusement when Wooyoung turns to you, brows raised in surprise. 

“Don’t ask me,” you shake your head. “I’m not his keeper. When it comes to games, he’s on his own.”

It’s your turn again, the blue ball alone on the green. You’ve played enough minigolf in your life for this to be muscle memory– childhood games at arcades, random birthday parties from school friends over the years. But it’s been a long, long time since you were a kid, too long since you’ve come close to a minigolf course. Your first swing, just a foot away from the hole, you miss. The group laughs and you roll your eyes, waving a hand, “I’m just warming up!”

“Oh, I’m sure!” Sana’s voice is dripping with sarcasm and your lips tighten. Feeling hotter now, you line up your feet, the club with the ball, and swing. 

You fucking miss.

“Jesus fucking Christ,” you huff. “Someone hand me my drink, I need to be drunker if I’m gonna suck.”

Yunho’s laughing as he hands you your cocktail and you suck down half of it before lining your feet up all over again. You hit the ball this time, but it’s fueled by your rage, it bounces off the brick siding and onto the green of hole four right next door to hole one. You straighten, hand covering your mouth, eyes widening as your ball hits someone else’s ball that was currently playing hole four. 

“I’m sorry!” You call as the young kid, definitely not a day over the age of eight, throws the baby blue ball back onto the faded putting green. It’s as if it was in slow motion, how he threw the ball in a perfect arc for it to land flawlessly in the hole without as much as a singular bounce. You whip around to your friend group, eyes wide, “Does that count? Can that count? Jongin, count it.”

Your friend group sounds like a clan of hyenas, loud cackles, obnoxious laughter breaking out across twelve people because of how ridiculous that unfolded. 

“Are all three of you competitive?” Seonghwa asks, genuine, voice light and kind. 

You shrug as you walk off the green, “I’ve never really played sports, I don’t know.” Skipping over to Jongin who was keeping score, you brush up close to his sculpted arm, tone candy sweet, “So? Are we counting it or what?”

He makes a shh motion, one finger raised, smiling behind the purse of his lips. Your hand forms into a fist and you tuck it into your body with success, “Yes, hole in two, baby.”

Mingi and Yunho are snickering when you return to them, but it’s Yunho who mocks you, “Not competitive, my ass.”

“Hey,” you point a finger at him. “You can’t make fun of me, I’m pissed at you. I said I was gonna make up for Mingi’s shit swing.”

“Yours was even worse!” Mingi’s voice is high-pitched, still defensive. You’re all giggles when you lean into him, pressing a hand to his cheek to pull him down for a kiss. Beer and home, he tastes like half of you. 

You feel Yunho’s eyes, but you don’t stop, you don’t do anything to make him think it’s for him. Even if there’s the evil part of you that hopes he wants to rip his skin off his body, that he’s so enraged he sees red, you hope he doesn’t act on it. You hope he doesn’t act on anything ever again.

At hole two, Yunho surprises you both with how efficiently he makes the ball into the hole with only one swing, yours and Mingi’s jaws falling to the concrete. Yunho exudes everything smug on his return.

Smirk on his lips, rolling his shoulders, he says, “What? Like it’s hard?”

Your laugh is verbal disbelief, Mingi immediately quips, “Do not quote Legally Blonde right now.”

Yunho’s giggle is proud, his grin wide, his shoulders doing a little shake in celebration. So fucking cute you could rip out all your hair, you dig your head into Mingi’s chest to smell him, to rid yourself of feelings towards Yunho. Your forehead meets your boyfriend’s skin with a groan, “I need another drink.”

The third hole goes by quickly, efficiently, Mingi excited he got a hole in one, deservedly so. At hole four, you’re up again after a cocktail and a half, at least you’re at the starting line this time. You stare at the blue ball sitting on the green, eyes squinted, whispering, “Do not embarrass me. Okay?” 

“Are you talking to the ball?” San asks, humor laced in his tone. “I don’t think it’s gonna answer, girl.”

“I’m giving it a pep talk!” You snap your head to respond and then stare at the ball once more. You line up your feet, then the club with the ball, and swing. 

Your fuck is louder than Mingi’s was when you miss. You wave apologetically to the family of four that shoots daggers at you from across the course. 

“I can’t watch this,” Yeosang shakes his head as he approaches you. “You're legitimately killing me.”

Your face heats with embarrassment as he stalks up to you, determination in the crease of his brow. You pull all your hair to one side as he stands behind you, arms wrapping around you, hands dwarfing yours over the handle of the club. “Hold like this,” he explains, then kicks one foot between yours, spreading your legs farther, your knees bending. “Stand like that.”

Yunho, tensing beside Mingi, snaps his head to the side to get Mingi’s attention. “Hello?”

Mingi’s brows furrow when Yunho’s shoulder bumps him, his feet staggering. “What?”

“Look,” Yunho says, like it’s absurd Mingi just asked what. He can see the flex of Yeosang’s arms as he stretches them over your shoulders, the veins swimming along his forearms while his hands clasp over yours. It makes his jaw tick, his heartbeat quicken— you’re not Yeosang’s to touch. 

“He’s showing her how to play,” Mingi says casually, taking another sip of his beer, leaning towards Yunho like he was watching a sitcom instead of his girlfriend getting felt up by another man. 

Yunho’s head tilts, dumbfounded and semi-enraged that Mingi doesn’t feel a shred of the possession he does, his voice a harsh whisper, “Yeosang has had a thing for her since… since forever.”

“Have you lost your mind?” Mingi’s brows raise as he turns to his best friend, a disbelieving chuckle falling from his lips. “No he hasn’t. Tzuyu is right there.”

Yeosang kicks your feet apart and Yunho’s body jerks at the action. His foot inches forward, fingers grasping his beer a little harder like he was ready to pounce. Instead, he grits his teeth, “Have you ever watched Yeosang interact with her? Like ever? He’s basically told you to your face he thinks she’s sexy.”

“She is sexy,” Mingi shrugs, rolling his neck nonchalantly. “If I’m not pissed off then you shouldn’t be either. She’s not yours, she’s mine.”

Yunho’s neck snaps, meeting Mingi’s dead-serious stare. Stunned into silence, he shuts his mouth, drinks his beer, and lets it be. Just when Yunho thought they were getting somewhere, that maybe you wouldn’t be awkward all day, he’s surprised that Mingi’s the one who put him in his place. It’s worse when you return smiling, overflowing with excitement, asking Mingi if he saw your hole-in-one three times before throwing your arms around his neck and kissing him. He feels sick, palms sweating, you weren’t doing this to get a rise out of him, you were leaning on each other because he was the one who fucked up. Again. 

The rest of mini-golf goes by in a blur. He doesn’t speak much, he doesn’t have anything to say, his mind is on a roll, trying to come up with any sort of plan to fix this. He needs to get you two alone, he needs to apologize, he needs to say something to get the two of you to stop looking at him like you don’t care about him because that in itself is so fucking terrifying he can feel his goddamn throat close another inch every time he notices. 

The drive home is quiet, wind in Yunho’s ears, he can’t even hear the soft music playing through the speakers, he didn’t care to. Out of the corner of his eye he watches you sink into Mingi in San’s backseat with the sun laying over your lap like a blanket, your eyes closed beneath your sunglasses like you didn’t have a care in the world. Like nothing was bothering you at all. 

He’s never let himself learn just how terrifying it could be to love someone who didn’t want him. Two people who didn’t fucking want him. 

“Who’s ready to BBQ?” Wooyoung shouts from the passenger seat of Jongin’s Jeep, emphasizing the acronym, basically hanging halfway over the door while grinning wide enough to showcase each and every one of his bone-colored teeth. You’d just pulled into San’s driveway, finally back at home to barbecue, to fill your stomachs with a good, hearty meal before you were back on the streets for Haos’ nightlife. 

Everyone piled out of the cars quickly, heading inside just for the men to immediately split off into the kitchen to start prepping the grill. You watch as they gather around the kitchen island, shouting orders and ideas about cooking of all things until Tzuyu bumps your hip with her own at the base of the staircase, stealing your attention.

Pulling her hair tie from her bun, she lets it fall behind her in loose waves, scratching her fingers through her roots, “I guess the man-grill thing is genetic. Or built-in, like a default setting.” 

“There’s nine of them,” you whisper. “How many does it take to man a grill?” 

“Nope, I’m out!” Hongjoong raises both his palms beside his head in defeat while he retreats from the kitchen. “You’re all insane, I’m showering and napping. Call me when dinner’s ready.”

“Eight,” you correct yourself, a grin growing on your cheeks, and Tzuyu laughs from beside you. 

Jihyo, her bag over her shoulder, enters the living room with Sana at her side, the two approaching you and Tzuyu with grins on their faces. Sana does a little shake of her hips, grin reading excitement, “Who’s ready to fuck up the club?”

“It’s a bar, I think,” Jihyo laughs, “but it’ll be nice for us all to go out and let loose.”

“We’ve done nothing but let loose all weekend,” Tzuyu furrows her brows.

“No.” you shake your head once. “We have not.”

“I brought face masks,” Sana’s fingertips dance together mischievously. “We should pre-game getting ready while they grill and shit.”

Out on the deck, Mingi stood over the grill in front of the railing, a pair of tongs in his hand while he flipped pieces of meat and seafood on the black, steel grates. The speaker inside played music through the screen door, everyone mindlessly humming and singing along while they set the table, chatter and laughter flowing through the chilly summer breeze that ruffled his hair. 

So many years these guys have been his friends, so many years Yunho has been his friend, he can’t believe it’s all gone to complete shit. This was his worst fear coming true, the lingering fear when all of this began, that he’d cross a line and lose Yunho. Yeah, they’d all still be friends, but his friendship with Yunho has always been different. Deeper. He can’t believe he’s losing it, right in front of his eyes.

He felt alive again that first night in Haos, back to normalcy, you three felt closer than before, just for it to be ruined all over again the next day. Each and every time he met Yunho’s eye today, he hated that those three words still sat in the hinge of his jaw, the back of his throat, begging to be spoken. He could tell it was the same for you, where your eyelids sat over your glazed pupils, a certain twinkle to them as you stared up at Yunho even if you tried to hide it. He knows what the words look like forming on your lips, how you tighten your smile to stop them from spilling out, he knows you like the back of his hand. 

He can’t believe you both love him and you can’t have him. 

“Almost done?” Mingi’s head snapped up to Yunho on his right side, his head peeking over Mingi’s shoulder, the heat of Yunho hotter than the grill. Speak of the devil.

Mingi nods, eyes sliding over his face. Big, brown eyes with clean cut brows giving them structure, cheekbones high and sculpted, lips a pretty, pale pink heart. He wishes there was no one else on the deck, he wants nothing more than to lean forward and press his lips to Yunho’s, he hates that his feelings still linger.

Yunho’s head tilts when Mingi lacks a response, amused by Mingi’s eyes locked in on his lips. “What’cha thinking about?” 

“Nothing,” Mingi mumbles, bringing his eyes back to the grill. 

Yunho sighs, “Mingi–”

“Don’t,” Mingi keeps his eyes locked on the burning fire beneath the grates. “I don’t want to hear it, it’s all bullshit.”

It feels like a blow to Yunho’s ribs. “None of what I want to say is bullshit, Mingi. You know me.”

“I thought I knew you,” Mingi mutters, purposely keeping his voice low. “I thought I knew how you felt about us, I thought we were getting somewhere, that even though you’re scared, you wouldn’t pretend you didn’t feel anything.”

Yunho frowns, his head dropping. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to hurt you, Min.”

“But you did,” Mingi meets his eye. “And you knew you did in the moment. But you didn’t go back on what you said, you didn’t change your answer. You let me sit there looking stupid because I–”

Mingi cuts himself off and Yunho’s brows furrow for a second, “Because you what?”

“Nothing, it doesn’t matter.”

“It matters,” Yunho urges. “Everything you say matters.”

“Not to you,” Mingi turns sideways, his jaw locked, his brows flat. “Don’t apologize, don’t say whatever pretty words you think are gonna make it better. It was embarrassing, Yunho, sitting there while everyone laughed at the idea of us being together because you said it was weird.”

Yunho’s fingers rub at his eyes, exasperated, “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say it, it was word vomit, I got scared–”

“Yunho,” Mingi’s voice is so clear, so even Yunho stands a little straighter. “I know how you feel already. You’re twenty-eight years old, you’re old enough to know words have meaning. You know how we feel about you. We’re done here.”

Yunho’s throat is so tight he doesn’t think he could take a breath even if he tried. There’s no oxygen in the air, nothing to feed his lungs, Mingi’s words feel so concrete all he can do is turn around and walk away. Inside, toward the bathroom, he’s walking without vision, without a brain, he locks the door behind him and finally heaves a strained, verbal breath. 

We’re done here.

You’re done with him. Mingi’s done with him. His back presses against the door, facing the ceiling, willing his tears to stay below the surface. He’s right. He’s grown enough to know that his fear is childish, that it’s time to settle down, he shouldn’t be afraid of what his friends think, what anyone thinks. He shouldn’t be afraid of commitment with you, he knows you won’t hurt him in his soul, he knows how you feel about him. He feels the same way toward you, if not deeper, he feels so fucking much toward you that it terrifies him. 

He’s running out of time to get over it.

If this was a month ago he’d be seeing this situation as an out, he’d be thinking that this was for the best, but now his heart feels shriveled down to a husk in his chest. Hollow, like the best parts of him were gone, missing the people who made him feel whole, gave him purpose outside of sex. Outside of the role he gave himself. 

When he goes back out onto the deck, the sun’s at its last moments of visibility over the horizon, the girls had made it back down, too. You sat next to Mingi at the corner, Jihyo and Jongho across from you, Tzuyu and Yeosang beside you. Yunho sits beside Hongjoong who’s next to Seonghwa, and the couple look at him with sad eyes. 

Seonghwa leans across Hongjoong, his voice low. “What’d you do?”

Yunho sighs, lips flattening. He doesn’t question how Seonghwa read the situation. “You saw what I did. At dinner yesterday.”

Hongjoong makes a face, one that says you’re fucked. “That was a tough watch.”

“I know,” Yunho answers, tone flat. “I don’t know what to do.”

“I don’t think we’re able to give you advice, this is out of our area of expertise,” Seonghwa looks apologetic, voice soft as he leans across Hongjoong to lay his palm flat over Yunho’s hand, encouraging. “You’ll figure it out if you love them as much as they love you.”

Yunho stares at him for a second and for the first time in thirty minutes he can’t actively hear his own heartbeat. He gives Seonghwa a soft, grateful smile, pulling his hands back in his lap, thinking. 

You’ll figure it out if you love them as much as they love you. 

He lets his eyes graze over the meal, a feast is what it was, far too much food for thirteen people to consume and feel good after digesting, but no one seemed to care. Music flowed from inside, loud yet calming, a backtrack to conversation, banter, laughter, not anything Yunho could hear over the sound of his pounding heart. 

San made a toast to the last night in Haos, a small speech of how happy he was to maintain the friendships that were vital to him. Appreciation for all of you, gratitude for years of friendship, relationships he wouldn’t trade for the world, he even choked up talking about how close he holds everyone to his heart. Not often does he get emotional, but the way the table stood, clapped, clinked their glasses and took turns squeezing him tight, maybe he’ll be more inclined. 

Maybe the three of you weren’t the only ones who are having an emotional weekend. 

By the time dinner was over, all thirteen of you stuffed full, the impending night out seemed more like a chore than anything. Yunho’s stretched out on the couch half-asleep until he hears Wooyoung complain to San that the girls were getting ready in his room, perking his ears enough for him to wake the hell up and trudge up two flights of steps to his room, your room, to see Mingi passed out in the bed. 

A white tee, briefs on his legs, he lays on his side, both hands pressed together beneath one cheek, lips parted as he snores softly. Yunho smiles to himself, staring from the doorway, leaned up against the wooden frame, he looks so peaceful. So pretty, Yunho wanted so badly to crawl onto the bed and press a kiss to his lips, he knows better. Instead he creeps across the hardwood, gathering his things for a shower and leaves. 

The hot water gives him clarity. Maybe it’d be easier to confess tonight with a little liquid confidence, it’d give him an easier flow, he could say everything he needs to say without the stupid fucking wall that’s embedded in him biting his tongue. He loves you, he loves you both so much he feels incomplete, the world feels tilted off its axis without you two by his side. One week without you was hell, one day watching you with each other was like living in purgatory, the in-between, where he can look but can’t touch, he thinks that might be worse. 

Mingi’s still asleep while he starts getting ready, he only wakes up when Yunho’s buttoning up his shirt. He sits up slowly, wiping at his eyes, “What time is it?”

“After nine, I think,” Yunho responds, staring at Mingi through the mirror. His hair looks untouched, eyes half-lidded, he licks his lips three times just to get moisture in his mouth again. Yunho can’t fight his smile. 

“Fuck,” Mingi’s top lip lifts. “You’re dressing up?”

Yunho grins, “I’m only in a button-up and pants.”

“Yeah, but they’re your good pants,” Mingi argues, “the ones that make your ass look good.” His eyes widen after he says it, like his own words woke him up the rest of the way, but he doesn’t correct himself. 

Yunho looks over his shoulder like he’ll be able to see his own ass. “You think my ass looks good in these?”

Mingi stretches, a verbal noise of tightness leaving his chest as his arms go over his head, his shirt lifting at the hem, Yunho’s eyes snap to the exposed bit of skin like a moth to a flame. Mingi lays flat on the bed, arms straight out beside him, legs spread. “You know it does, don’t play coy.”

Yunho laughs a little as he buttons the last one, leaving the top three undone, one silver cross pendant sitting on his chest. He turns slowly, hands planted on the dresser behind him, taking a breath to build confidence since there was zero liquor swimming in his blood, “I regret what I said at dinner yesterday.”

Mingi sits up on his elbows, sleep still evident in his glossy eyes, his tone remains flat, knowing. “Do you?”

Yunho nods, lips scrunching to one side. “I don’t like how we are right now.”

Mingi sits up all the way, “I don’t like it either.”

Yunho’s voice is breathy, a little shaky as he asks, “Can I fix it?”

“Last time we were fixing things it took one day for it to get fucked up again,” Mingi lifts himself off the bed, running a hand through his hair. He stops right before Yunho, facing him, “You’re the only one who needs to figure your shit out, Yunho.”

Yunho watches as Mingi heads for the door, calling behind him. “What if I figured it out already?”

Mingi holds his stare from the door. “Then what are you waiting for?”

Stuck in time, Yunho stares, his tongue caught between his teeth, his heart in his throat. Mingi laughs a little, disappointment clear as he shakes his head. Before heading to the bathroom, he mutters, “Thought so.”

Yunho curses under his breath when he hears the bathroom door close, the shower turning on. He doesn’t wait around for Mingi’s return, he goes back downstairs, most of the guys already showered, dressed, ready to go. He opens a beer with the same tightness in his jaw, frustrated that Mingi just gave him an opportunity to speak and he couldn’t do it. He couldn’t say a word. 

There’s music playing from the TV in the living room, something pop from a decade ago, he doesn’t have it in him to listen, or to the conversation happening around the kitchen island. San, Jongin, Wooyoung, Jongho, it’s all muted mumbling in his ringing ears, he feels pathetic. 

It’s worse when Mingi comes downstairs and doesn’t even look at him. He joins the conversation seamlessly, the laughter grows, they’re talking louder than the music, it makes Yunho feel not only on the outside of his relationship, but on the outside of everything. Isolated because he can’t speak up, he can’t say how he feels, he’s trapped within his own mind, trapped beneath his feelings. He cracks another beer. 

He doesn’t think it can get any worse until you walk down the stairs. On the couch now, he gets a front-row view of the black dress painted onto your body, tied around your neck, stiletto heels with straps that twist up your calves like vines. Mingi meets you at the base, picking you up off the bottom stair with one arm hooked around your body, lips pressed to yours, when he sets you down carefully he says something in your ear that makes your head fall back with laughter. 

Emotion feels like bile rising in his throat. He’s jealous, but it’s different now; what was once frustrating was now driving, the words sit heavy on his tongue. You two look like you’re matching, dark clothes, hair styled, jewelry silver and offsetting one another, he looks down at his outfit and it’s almost like fate that he’s matching, too.

He looks back up to meet your eye across the room, what was supposed to be a glance lingers.

Yunho gives you the smallest of smiles, You look beautiful.  Your chin tilts upwards ever so slightly, I know, Mingi just told me. Ouch. He leans into the backrest, I can’t tell you, too? The corner of your lips tug upward. Thanks.  He watches as Mingi’s hand slithers around your waist. I need to talk to you.  You sink into Mingi’s hold, your back pressed against his chest, What if I don’t want to hear it? Yunho’s jaw clenches. You do. 

Sana shrieks from the staircase as soon as she sees Mingi’s lips pressed to the skin below your ear, “Do not fuck in that dress, I just bought it!”

You pull your attention away from him and he feels like grieving. You don’t give it to him again until you’ve had tequila poured into your mouth from the bottle, all thirteen of you in the kitchen fully dressed, pouring liquor like it’s water and calling it a pre-game. Outside, splitting two Escalades, rides San ordered for your group to take to Rêve across town, Yunho opted to sit in the back with you and Mingi, you scowled as soon as it left his lips. He smiles, because at least you care enough to frown.

San was immediately greeted upon approaching the upscale bar, stepping out of the Escalade to be met with two men wearing suits like it was regular, casual. Inside it was red everything, from leather booths to velvet barstools to the curtain that hung closed upon the stage; walls full of vintage framed photography, the architecture a brown so deep it appeared burgundy, dimly lit shaded lamps on tables, some traded for candles, the bar was drenched in an amber hue. It was definitely moody, a brand created off of atmosphere, it felt cozy as much as it felt expensive.

It was calmly crowded, plenty of people filling up the tables in the center of the room, a crowd before the stage that had waiters with trays between them. You spotted martini glasses, short glasses of whiskey poured neat, women in daring dresses and doused in jewels, men in suits who blew clouds of swirling smoke in the air from their cigars. All thirteen of you looked appropriate, expensive– but not old money expensive like some of the patrons you observed. You wondered about the history of Haos, about San, how deep his pockets really ran. 

You couldn’t wonder for long, though, with how the group was directed past the stage to a steel door at the back of the building that seemed… insignificant. Like it’d bring you outside or to a storage room, not to a long, dark hallway that hummed louder and louder with each step he took. 

Bass thumped beneath your shoes, the group quietly following the man in black like this was normal, no one questioned anything only because San followed with confidence, chest puffed out, shoulders back. Surprise wasn’t the word for what was behind the twin steel door at the end of the hallway, it opened to flashes of blue and purple, music so loud it made you jump where you stood. 

Women on platforms half-dressed, swaying their hips to the beat of the song, bottle girls with buckets of ice and handles of liquor atop their heads parting through the crowd like it was the Red Sea, patrons in clothing that matched yours exactly. The room was filled with people in your age group dancing to the music at the center of the backdoor club, the walls filled with enclosed sections you assumed were VIP, all by velvet roped attached to silver poles.

“So? Are you guys surprised?” San asks from the head of the group, his smirk turned to a wide, excited grin, which everyone replied with a monotonous, confused yes. San laughed, leaning into Jongin, “We wanted to surprise you, you guys looked so confused at the front, like we were gonna smoke cigars and watch Cabaret.”

“I wouldn’t have minded,” Jongho shrugs, and most of the group nod their agreement, including you. You didn’t care where you ended up tonight as long as there was liquor for you to guzzle.

“This is better, no?” San raises his brows as he begins walking you toward the back wall, what you assume was your VIP section. “Music we know, people our age, it’s been a long time since we’ve all gone clubbing together.”

Tzuyu, in a red dress painted on her body, adds, “Because all the clubs at home suck.”

“Not the ones here,” San quips like he was waiting for that reply, entering the section backlit by blue lights cool enough to be white. “They love me here.”

“You own it,” Mingi snorts, “they have to love you.”

“I partially own it,” San raises a finger as he steps into the open booth, the table at the center already full of ice and champagne. “There’s a difference.”

Jongin starts pouring champagne into flutes, “Should we make another toast?”

“We don’t need to get all teary-eyed again,” Sana smiles, softly instead of the nasty smirk she usually wore with her rebuttals. This was appreciation. “We have our makeup done, Sannie made us emotional enough back at the house.”

“It’s not every day that you get to tell your friends how much you love them,” San holds the flute between his fingers, brows wiggling. 

Yeosang laughs, “It could be, you just choose not to.”

You can feel the music in your blood, the dance floor calling to you, excitement in the bounce of your knee. You only spend fifteen minutes in your section, finishing a singular cocktail before Tzuyu’s pulling you out to the dance floor, after getting ready together in Sana’s room it was like all four of you had taken a breath of fresh air.

The dance floor was already swarming with sweaty bodies loosened up by liquor. Yours not quite there yet, you’re in a fit of giggles as the girls twirl you into the crowd, you stay on the outside of Jihyo and Sana who fall into rhythm, backs pressed to one another as they sway their hips, laughing as they twist around. You and Tzuyu are watching, smiling, giggling until the two pull you into their circle, forcing your hips into the same rhythm as theirs. 

“I’m out of practice!” You yell over the music, and both Sana and Jihyo shake their heads, like they wouldn’t accept the excuse. 

Jihyo slaps a hand on your shoulder, “You fuck, you know how to use your hips!”

Head tipping back with another laugh, you let her pull you into her, your hips so close they might as well be touching. You follow her rhythm, using a fuck-worthy roll of your hips as you do, bottom lip caught between your teeth while you focus. 

“You’re thinking too much,” Sana’s behind you, hands on your hips. “You need another drink, damn.”

Your lips tighten in a line as you look up at Jihyo again, embarrassed. She laughs in response, “She means you’ll feel looser with a little liquor in you.”

Sana stops the bottle girl holding a tray of shots, her screech for help loud as she tries to balance four between her fingers, the three of you snatch them from her hands like candy. Shooting it back in one swallow, you push a breath through your lips like it’d rid the sting from your throat, your face scrunching up at the taste. Vodka– bitter, painful. 

But it helps, it’s not long until your arms lay over Jihyo’s shoulders, your back pressed to Sana’s as she moves to the same rhythm as you, Tzuyu swaying her body in front of Sana. You can feel the music in your blood now, your body thumping with the bass, bones turning fluid with each shake of your hips. You’re unable to feel the warmth spreading through your skin, your senses already overwhelmed by the atmosphere, you’re too busy watching Jihyo’s half-clothed body grinding herself against you.

Eventually Tzuyu heads to the bar for more drinks, handing you another shot before a glass full of something and tequila, you don’t realize how quickly you’re sipping it while Tzuyu is bent over in front of you, her ass pressed to your crotch. You can hear your obnoxious laughter over the music when Sana lands a few smacks to her ass, Jihyo pulling out her phone to record it, the four of you erupting in a fit of drunken giggles and snorts, bodies light, brains somewhere else entirely, not once did you remember there’s an entire club of people around you.  

It’s been so long. House parties, clubs, bars, your friend group used to be outside on a weekly basis, you missed it. You missed them, dancing with them, completely carefree, like you’re twenty-three again. It was nostalgic in a visceral way, like maybe you were twenty-three again, sharing platonic kisses with your friends on the dance floor, waiting for your boyfriend to come scoop you up and fuck you in the bathroom because neither of you could wait.

You don’t realize you’re drunk until Mingi joins you on the dance floor. When you see his face, structured and beautiful, strands of hair hanging over his glossy eyes, a smile on his plump lips, you feel the rush of warmth from your chest to your toes. His pants cling to his legs like they’re tailored to him, strong thighs filling out the fabric, his unbuttoned shirt is showing enough skin for you to lick down his chest. You want to, the urge sitting at the forefront of your mind, you lick your lips as he approaches. 

“I was wondering where you went,” Mingi’s loud over the music, you could get drunk off the rasp to his voice alone. You throw your hands over his shoulders, swaying your hips to a rhythm he meets you at immediately, his hands on your waist. 

“I’ve been here,” you tilt your head, dazed. “We were dancing, the girls are so funny.”

Mingi snorts, “You’re drunk.”

“Nooo,” you shake your head, the word exaggerated, playful. “Just tipsy. Did I tell you how handsome you look?” Mingi looks amused, brows raising, you don’t wait for his answer. “You look sofuckingsexy.” His belly laugh makes your smile grow. “I’m serious, Min. I want you, like now.”

He leans in to attach your lips, a quick peck, he fights your strength to keep him close. “Now? Like were twenty-three again? Don’t wanna wait until we get home so I can fuck you in our bed?”

A small noise slips through your lips at the thought. “Too far away, we just got here.”

“We got here over an hour ago,” his hands curl around your waist, gripping you harder. “You’ve been out here the whole time, baby.”

It feels like you’ve been dancing for ten minutes. “Whatever,” you whine, pressing your front against his. “Kiss me already.”

He obliges, smiling before he presses his lips to yours, hands sliding down to grip your hips, pulling your body flush to his. You gasp into his lips, he tastes like whiskey, bitter but sweet, addicting. Your fingers find his hair as his tongue parts your lips, tasting you, groaning into you, your hands fall from his neck to feel him. 

“Baby,” he says with caution, you swallow the warning, tilting your head to kiss him harder. He squeezes your hips as your hands fall from his hair to his chest, palms splayed over his pecs down to his abdomen, tongue dancing with his. 

“I just wanna kiss,” you mumble into his mouth, hands fisting the fabric of his shirt as you take his bottom lip between your teeth, biting softly. He groans, chasing your lips again, his hips pressing into you, he’s so easy it makes your core clench. 

He parts your legs with one of his own, pressing into you, making you gasp a sound too lewd for where you are. Entirely bare beneath your dress, the pressure combined with the texture of his pants makes a breathy moan fall past your lips, one he drinks up with his own. Your fingers curl into his shirt tighter, hips bucking into him, one of his hands sliding up to the side of your neck.

“Can feel her on me,” his voice is deeper, almost a growl as he says the words into your mouth. “Knew you weren’t wearing panties.”

One of your heeled feet leaves the floor to grind against him at a better angle, head falling forward until your forehead lands against his, “Shit, feels good.”

He reaches behind you, fingers finding the hem of your dress, holding it taut over your ass. You moan again as your core drags over his thigh, forehead falling to his shoulder, the rest of the club melting away. He curses under his breath, “Baby, hold on, you gotta–”

You whimper into his shirt, eyes screwing shut, tequila and Mingi was a cocktail for impulsivity. Him, the smell of him in your nose, his body pressed to yours, he made you so fucking cockdrunk without even giving you an inch, without even touching you. The pleasure’s overwhelming, you needed more, pressure building steadily, you didn’t care where you were, who saw. 

Yunho can’t believe what he’s seeing. Curiosity getting the better of him, he should have known not to follow Mingi out to the dance floor to find you. But he was growing antsy at the table, listening to the bullshit conversation everyone was having when all he wanted to do was kiss Mingi across the table. Sitting back against the couch with his knees spread, beer in his hand, lips wet and pink and plump, Yunho was stirring in impatience. He’s hungry, he wants to touch him, to kiss him, wants him on his knees between his legs, he wants to tell him how much he loves him with his lips wrapped around his cock. He stared with his chin in his palm, elbow pressed to his knee, his foot tapping against the floor, the liquor made him restless.

At least he waited a few seconds before following Mingi, just to find the two of you at the center of the dance floor, surrounded by bodies and eyes while you grinded your hips against his fucking thigh like you were the only people out here. Mingi’s holding your dress over your ass, your hands in his shirt, leg hooked around his body, he stared until he understood the rhythm you were moving at, watching how you twitched like you were about to fucking cum.

He was seeing red. In his mind you were both still his, and you were letting all of these random fucking people see you like this? Seeing what’s his? He was moving before he could think about it, pressing himself up against your back, hands on your waist to shield you from everyone who could be watching. His voice comes out rough, harsh, “Don’t you fucking dare.”

Your hips still like your blood was still victim to his command. Head tilting backward, you stare at him through wet lashes, lips parting, his name leaves your mouth in a soft gasp. Eyes hazy, glossed over, fuck, all his rage dissipates into the humidity of the club, just from one look at you. Disheveled, you didn’t have a frown on your face, your brows weren’t tied together, so fucking beautiful flushed with arousal he can feel it in his chest. 

He looks at Mingi who’s equally as fucked out, cheeks red, eyes glossed over, he stares at Yunho like he wants to devour him, just like Yunho was staring at him in their section. His cock twitches in his pants, his heart twists, it’s been one fucking day and he misses you like he hasn’t had you in months.

He can’t take it anymore. He can’t do this anymore. 

He isn’t thinking when he leans forward, sandwiching you between himself and Mingi as his fingers grab his cheeks, there’s no patience in the way Yunho kisses him, no softness, it’s all hunger and relief and driven by every single thought he’s had today. He says each one with each lick into Mingi’s mouth, he hopes he can feel it, the guilt, the fear, the ease he feels just by tasting the whiskey on his tongue.

“Oh my god,” he hears you whisper, it goes one ear and out the other as Mingi groans into his mouth, it goes straight to his cock. He feels you slip from between them as Mingi’s hands find his hair, his hands slide to Mingi’s neck, their chests pressed together like they couldn’t be close enough.

“I love you,” Yunho breaks the kiss only to say the three words into his mouth and he moans. Between kisses, he holds him close, “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I fucking love you.”

“They’re watching,” you’re tugging on his arm, panic ebbed in your tone. “Yun, they’re watching you. They can see you.” 

He pulls away from Mingi to turn to you, your eyes wide with fear, lips parted, eyes bouncing back and forth between Yunho and what he can only assume is all of your friends. He doesn’t care. There’s no shame, there’s no denial, there’s nothing inside him that could stop him from grabbing you by the waist, throwing the other in your hair, and pressing his lips to yours. He breaks it only to murmur, “Let them see.”

You’re stiff for just a second before melting into him, his kisses softer than those with Mingi, more controlled, like kissing Mingi took the edge off his impulse. “I love you,” he whispers into your mouth. “I don’t give a fuck if they see me kissing you, you’re mine.”

You hook your leg over his thigh, palms on his cheeks, relief flooding you. You tilt your head to the side, smirking, “You couldn’t have said that yesterday?” 

“I’m sorry.”

“Stop speaking,” your fingers tighten in his hair. “Your mouth gets you in trouble. Take us home.”

Your friend group watches Yunho guide you both through the club with wide eyes and parted lips, you don’t spare them a glance as you and Mingi trail behind Yunho like dogs to their owner. The Escalades are still parked out front, a few words from Yunho to the driver and he’s opening the door to the backseat for you and Mingi, ushering you inside. 

You stole Yunho’s mouth the entire drive, Mingi settling for his neck, the skin on his chest, more with every button he ripped apart. You didn’t speak, you didn’t need to, you’d said everything on the dance floor, specifics could come later. The only thing left was consummation, which was the only thing on your mind as you nearly sprinted through the front door, almost tripping on your feet on the climb upstairs. 

“Careful,” Yunho said from behind you when you’d taken two steps at a time, but he couldn’t hold in his laughter, amused at your impatience. You ignored him, forgoing an answer to instead steal his lips once more when you reached the top of the steps. 

His hands found your hips, tongue pushing through your lips, you felt Mingi’s palms a steady wait on top of Yunho’s as he backed you into your room, then closed the door behind you. You broke away to untie your dress behind your neck, just for Mingi to trade places with you, stealing Yunho’s mouth. 

“Bed,” you said into the air, and watched as they tripped over each other, stepping in each other’s line of direction as they backed closer, closer, and closer to the bed. Mingi fell backwards, Yunho’s hands flying for his belt.

You kissed your boyfriend, who hummed when your lips met his. “Tequila.”

“Tastes good, right?” You smile into the kiss, dress riding up your thighs, body bent over completely to keep your mouth on his. 

You can hear Mingi’s pants hit the floor, grabbing your attention. Yunho has his shirt off, Mingi’s briefs discarded. Yunho’s eyes, always cool and collected, are wide, crazed; sparkling with the moonlight that makes a puddle of white at the balcony door, casting the room in a hue of midnight.

Reality settles, and it’s heavy. Drunk you may be, but not drunk enough to not be wondering what’s going through his mind. “Hey,” you offer. His eyes meet yours, charcoal, swirling with moonlight, not quite steady. Your lips curve, “I love you.”

His bare shoulders settle, ease washing over him. He leans over Mingi’s legs, two hands cupping your cheeks as he kisses you deeply, speaking into your mouth, “I love you, too.”

“Holy shit,” you mumble into his mouth, making him giggle right back. He giggled. 

He loves you. He fucking loves you. 

Mingi reaches for your legs, pulling one over his chest, you’re absent-minded as Yunho keeps his tongue tangled with yours. He pushes your dress up over your hips, holding it up over your waist, and pulls you down to meet his awaiting tongue.

You gasp out a moan as Mingi groans, bare hips bucking against Yunho who was still leaning over him. Yunho leans back, eyes darkening as he takes in the sight, your hips already rolling against Mingi’s tongue.

“Fuck,” Yunho sighs, grabbing his length through his pants, his grip tight like he was pacing his own pleasure. Like seeing you with Mingi might’ve very well brought him closer than he should have been.

Mingi’s arms hook around your thighs, tongue poking out to let your hips rock against it, allowing you to set your own pace, to use him however you want. You waste no time setting a brutal pace, whimpering as his flexed tongue rolls over your clit, as your hips rock back onto his nose. Fingers curling into your skin, searing where they held you, no doubt leaving oval shapes behind, the sting only makes you grind against him harder.

Yunho’s fingers find his button, his zipper, his eyes zeroed in on the sight before him like he couldn’t rip his eyes away if he tried. Indents of strain dimple the space above his brows, just a slight furrow, his hand finds his length again over his briefs, running his flat palm over his hard cock, a moan tumbling off his tongue. 

Your eyes flare. “G’na cum just like that? Watching?”

Yunho’s lips part. “Could, if I wanted to.”

You find the hem of your dress at your waist, pulling the thin fabric over your head in one quick motion. Still rocking your hips, abdomen flexed, breasts falling at your chest, Yunho groans. 

“Fuck,” he curses under his breath. You hiss when Mingi’s nose catches on your entrance. Yunho’s eyes sink down to where Mingi’s tongue swallows your folds, how it blankets over your core, swiping through, spit sliding down the sides of his mouth. His hand picks up speed over his briefs, hips bucking into his own hand, chest rising and falling heavily, “I might.”

You lean forward, holding Yunho’s eye, moaning as Mingi’s tongue curls inside you. You take Mingi’s length in one hand, the other pressed on his chest, and Mingi’s hips jerk into your hand immediately, a sharp grunt vibrating your thighs. 

Mingi’s knees spread, hips bucking off the bed, feet finding the edge of the bed, legs lifting just to spread wider. You keep your eyes on Yunho, voice a husky whisper, “Join.”

As if you were a siren, his body pulls him forward, his hand leaving his cotton-covered cock just to wrap around Mingi’s, his hand fitting perfectly right above yours. Mingi’s palms wrapped around your thighs keep your hips moving as you and Yunho pump his length, one-handed, your eyes never once leaving each other.

“Fuck him,” you nearly whisper, your voice still husky, coated in arousal. “Push his legs up to his chest and fuck him. I have his mouth.”

Yunho gasps, and it would have been silent if you weren’t so close. His face twinges, a jerk of a reaction, like he wasn’t used to someone giving him orders. But his hands find Mingi’s knees, the underside of them, pushing them upward. He leans toward you, taking your lips in his, and as his tongue pushes into your mouth you know it’s claiming. Steadying. Reminding you who he is, who he is to you. 

Yunho’s hand disappears between Mingi’s legs, earning a shattered moan spat into your core, you smile through the sound that rips from your chest. Rocking your hips again, sitting up straight once more, Mingi’s fingers singe your thighs, each fingertip like iron soaked in fire.

Mingi’s heels find the bed, cock twitching against his abdomen, leaking all over the stretch of skin beneath his belly button. The skin of your thighs gathers between his fingers, but you rock yourself through it, the pain mixed with the pleasure better than any cocktail you’ve had tonight.

Your head tips back as Yunho preps him, listening to Mingi curse into your folds, whining and whimpering but giving your clit the most attention of all. “S’good, Mingi,” you moan out, reaching behind you to run your fingers through his hair, sounding utterly dazed. “Mm, I love you.”

You barely hear him say it back, his voice lagged, muffled by a mouth full of you, head no doubt fuzzy from Yunho knuckle deep in his ass. You bring your eyes back to the older man who’s focused, taking his time opening him up, prepping him for his cock that neither of you can ever really be prepped for.

“Makin’ a mess, Min,” Yunho comments, finally noticing the painting the younger man made on his own skin. Droplets of pre, ropes that dripped down his sides, Mingi moaned in response. Yunho pushes his legs up, you catch them, palms splayed over his knees, holding him spread.

 Beautiful, watching Mingi suck in every single inch. Beautiful, watching Yunho fight every fucking instinct to cum as soon as he bottomed out. It ignited the fire in your gut like you were the one Yunho was splitting open; a harsh moan pushing past your lips, clit throbbing against Mingi’s unmoving tongue. At least he stuck it out, you thought as your hips bucked against him, grinding harshly against the muscle he wanted you to use for your own pleasure.

When Yunho started moving, when Mingi started moaning like nothing has ever felt this good in his life, you could feel it like a phantom limb; brows furrowing, moans growing in pitch, watching your boyfriend fuck your other boyfriend brought you right to the edge.

“Shit… shit,” you moaned, your fingers finding your nipples, pinching, twisting. Hips bucking rapidly, watching Yunho’s abdomen flex as his hips rolled into Mingi’s ass, you neared so close you could taste it. “Gonna cum, Yun, gonna c-cum–”

“Wait,” he ground out, his voice ragged and harsh like he was nearing the brink himself. It made your eyes dart to him, he always lasted, he’s never cum this quickly. Ever. His grin is lazy, his head tipped backward, sweat kissing his moonlight-kissed skin, he utters, “Been waiting– for this, t-to tell you how I feel.” His chin dips, eyes squeezing shut, “Fuck.”

You understood then, that his release was so much more.

“Let me cum,” you urged. “Let me, want to watch you.”

Yunho’s eyes met yours, and agreement shone in the subtle spark of white dancing in charcoal. He leaned forward, wrapping his fingers around your neck, tugging you toward him to crash your lips onto his, shoving his tongue into your mouth, tasting the orgasm that washed over you as soon as you met.

Mingi’s grip rocked you through it, a sob leaving your throat, lips unmoving against Yunho’s. Whispering into your mouth, he uttered, “I love you.”

You couldn’t answer. You couldn’t do anything but roll off Mingi’s face, the younger man gasping for a breath, reaching his arms upward for Yunho. Yunho’s hips didn’t falter as he leaned down, as he pushed Mingi up the bed, crawling onto it himself. Head in the pillows, utterly dazed, lovesick and spent, you watched Yunho take Mingi for everything he’s worth.

Mingi sobbed, hands in Yunho’s hair, muttering I love you over and over again like he couldn’t believe he could say it. Yunho’s hips snapped against his, responding every fucking time Mingi said it, not missing a single time it passed through his lips. 

And it occurred to you then, that they were yours. Both of them, finally, for real this time, they were completely yours. So beautiful together, their bodies molding perfectly, lips touching, speaking, not kissing; Mingi’s hands in Yunho’s hair, Yunho cradling Mingi’s cheeks.

You didn’t feel the tears on your cheeks until Mingi spilled onto his stomach, blurry eyes darting to where it dribbled down his side. They didn’t notice until after Yunho emptied himself inside Mingi, when the smack of hips became a sound of slick movement, and their heads turned to yours.

Mingi’s face, fucked-out turned to concerned. Brows bent, lips pouting, he scrounged to sit up on his elbows, “What’s wrong?”

You shook your head, wiping under your eyes. “I just love you, both of you. That’s all.”

Yunho crawled over to you, a warm smile on his lips as he split your knees, placing a cupped palm on your cheek before he pressed a soft kiss to your lips. Wiping your tears, he murmured, “I’m sorry for all the shit I put you through this weekend.”

You sniffed, “I’m just… still a little drunk, you don’t need to console me. I know you’re sorry.”

After cleaning himself up quickly, Mingi curled up to your other side, pressing his lips into your bicep. The two of them watched you like hawks, taking in every micro-expression on your face.

“I’m fine,” you reiterated with a small laugh. “I swear, I’m just emotional. It was an emotional weekend.”

Yunho’s face drooped with guilt. “I’m sorry it took me so long to get my shit together. I didn’t mean anything I said to you–”

Your palms found his cheeks, guiding him down, cutting him off by pressing your lips against his. “I know,” you whispered, eyes opening to look into his. “I know how you feel, I knew the whole time. I’m proud of you.”

His lips quivered. Your smile grows, “Now why are you getting emotional?”

“Because I’ve been searching for this for so fucking long,” he admits, his voice barely above a whisper. “Searching for you, both of you,” his eyes find Mingi, “in everyone.”

“Search is over,” Mingi rolls on his back, eyes playful, lips pinned up on one side. He looks at Yunho with barely a turn of his head, “Should we throw a party?”

Yunho snorts, pressing another kiss to your lips before throwing your leg over his body, collapsing on your other side. After a moment, he adds, “I’ve never felt more like myself than when I’m with you.”

Both yours and Mingi’s heads turn to him, listening. Yunho’s head angles toward you, but he doesn’t look as he continues, “I think it’s why I’ve never settled down. Nothing ever felt right, not until that first night with you both. I mean, after that, I never really left.”

“You tried,” you add with a grin.

Yunho looks at you just to roll his eyes. “It’s scary knowing the best thing that could ever happen to you is happening to you. I fucked it up before I even had the chance to fuck it up.”

“No you didn’t,” Mingi counters with a shake of his head. “You’re here, we’re here. Everything happened the way it was supposed to.”

Yunho’s quiet for a moment. “Thank you for letting me figure it out. For not abandoning me when I gave you every reason to.”

Before tears have the chance to fill your waterline again, you wrap yourself around him, literally climbing on top of him to attach yourself to him. Whispering into his neck, you say, “That’s what you do when you love someone.”

“And we love you very, very much,” Mingi adds, already cuddled up to Yunho’s side.

Yunho presses his lips to yours, a short, sweet kiss. Then turns to Mingi, pressing another short, sweet kiss to his lips. “And I love you both very, very much, too.”

masterlist 3️⃣

fin 💌

[thenewblackcanvasreads]

FUUUUUUUCK

I can’t believe it’s over! I’ve been so busy I hadn’t read it but I’d been waiting for this omg!! Can’t believe I read it so late.

This was so crazy! I knew something had to happen when they reconciled so early in the trip but woah! Roller coaster for sure

I love this throuple so much😭😭 They understand each other so well yet still have some issues like all relationships especially with unknown territory. It makes so much sense not to want others all in your business especially when you friend group runs over a dozen deep lmao

I gotta be honest I felt kinda sorry for Yunho after the dinner😭 I was pissed at him for what happened the first time but they barely talked then fucked then asked to have a day as his true subs and it was the most obvious thing ever to their friends who I’m surprised kept their mouths shut that long lmao. He’s someone who has commitment issues that is being put on the spot in front of almost a dozen of his friends and less than 24 hours after reconciling. I truly don’t blame him for the badly worded lie. They were super hurt before so it makes sense they reacted strongly but damn Yunho is better than me lol Even if i felt it was valid I would’ve been pushing back on some of the bullshit they said in the moment. I would’ve atleast said we still have things to settle when I apologized.

I hope there are more poly stories! Ateez writers I’m thirsty plsssss More Yungi x Reader! More Woosan x Reader

[sanjoongie]

🅳🅾🆄🅱🅻🅴 🅻🅾🅰🅳

🧺Pairing: Porn actor! Seonghwa x Director! Reader (f) x Porn actor! San

🧺Genre: smut, pwp

🧺Au: porn industry, director, porn star

🧺Trope: position of power, employer/employee

🧺Rating: 18+, MDNI

🧺Warnings: clothes ripping, threesome, double penetration, creampie, unprotected sex, anal sex, vaginal sex, mxm, groping, dirty talk, verbal instruction, switch! san, switch! reader, switch! seonghwa, dick drunk! reader, clit play

🧺Word Count: 3,106

🧺Summary: after a demonstration on set with your two male leads, they corner you in your trailer, and insist on a more hands on approach to the next scene

🧺Author's note: ... i don't want to talk about it. this is what happens when i'm left to my own devices....

You sigh and rub your eyebrow tiredly. This has been the seventh take of what was supposed to be a tasteful, slightly corny, but by EVERY means for the female eye porno. Your female actor was too used to acting it up for the male gaze and it was fucking with your vision.

You pull off your headphones and stomp over to the scene in the laundromat. “Let me show you what I want.”

Park Seonghwa, in his short top and jeans slung low, underwear band playing peekaboo and tanned skin out for display, stood leaning back against the washing machines, double stacked. 

“Can I touch you?” You make a point of asking. You may be in the porn industry but it was especially important that the actors feel comfortable. When Seonghwa nods slowly, like he’s a deer in the headlights, you begin your example.

You looked pointedly at the female star, who was casually tying a robe over her skimpy clothes. You grabbed Seonghwa's hips, firmly pushing him up against the machine. “You’re the one in power. It’s taking two men to pleasure you,” You instruct.

You run the tip of your nose along the seam of skin that Seonghwa is flashing. “You’re enjoying yourself. You want to feel the heat of his skin against your tongue, like you could drink it off him.”

Seonghwa watches you with wide eyes. He’s a vet in the porno world but he’s never been manhandled like this before. Especially by the director of all things.

“You want to hear his noises, hear him moan. You can be drunk off your power and loving it but moaning for no reason is really going to throw a female viewer off,” You say, head still at height with Seonghwa’s crotch.

“And then--” You look over your shoulder at the newbie, San. “Come over here, San.”

Choi San, a rising star with an equally slutty waist, pads over hesitantly where you’re bent over in front of Seonghwa. His eyes are shaky, looking hesitant as his hands hover. 

“Now San is enjoying what he’s seeing. He wants a piece too. But he has to be a good boy if he’s going to share,” You continue your narrative.

“Good boy?’ San squeaks.

You sigh. “Yes. Now put your hands on my hips.”

San’s hot hands grip your hips firmly. He may be a newbie but he was good at his job. 

“So while you’re busy sucking Seonghwa off, because you do so enjoy the weight of him on your tongue, San is nudging up against you, begging for access. You can pop off Seonghwa to answer San, but it has to be a place of power. You’re not begging him to fuck you. He’s gotta show that it’s worth taking the two of them at the same time.”

“Wow,” is all the female star can say. 

You stand up suddenly and clap. “Got it?” Both San and Seonghwa nod quickly in response. You smile, full of sunshine. “Good. Let’s go for another take.”

You sit in your chair, pulling your headphones back on, and sitting forward in your chair. “And action!”

The female star takes her cues from you very well, changing her attitude immediately. Seonghwa appears as melted candy in her hands and it’s exactly what you wanted. You did a careful pandown of Seonghwa’s body, from top to bottom. You managed to capture his eyebrows curved inward and the pop of his full lips as his teeth let them go. 

You raised your hand to silently count down until San entered the scene. His eyes were hooded as he took in the scene before him. Bronze skin on display because of the hot weather made him even more readily available than Seonghwa. Suddenly, the main female star has more options than she thought. You smiled inwardly, feeling glee at the female empowerment. 

The next hour or so goes seamlessly and you call for a break. 

Seonghwa and San make a beeline for you, after your assistant took your afternoon coffee order. 

“Can we get some notes for the next scene?” San asks eagerly. 

“We?’ You raise an eyebrow in Seonghwa’s direction.

The older actor nods enthusiastically. “It’s been eye opening to hear your perspective.”

You turn around to head to the back door of the laundromat. You crook two fingers to guide the two actors behind you. “My trailer has air conditioning. Let's go boys.”

Once inside, reclining against the sink, you open your script to refresh yourself. The next scene was the actress getting double timed by the two men. San takes a seat on the bench with the table and Seonghwa sits on the other end. 

“So this next part, after being spitroasted by the two of you, is…” You lick your finger and flip the pages. 

Upon the pause in your words, San pipes up. “You never acted, did you?”

Your gaze slowly rises above the script pages. “Why do you ask?”

Seonghwa exchanges a long glance with San. “Well, it just seems you have a lot of experience with this. And considering how you want to change the perception…”

“I’ve had a couple of indie films that were sensual enough that I had a few porn production companies ask me to try my hand at one of their films. I knew I wasn’t going to produce anything that they’d like. Or that they’d butcher my script. But when a female run company approached me, I knew it was time,” You provide.

“So… this vision comes from different experience?’ San continues. 

You chuckle lowly. “Are you asking me if this comes from personal experience, San?”

San scratches the back of his head. “I mean… does it?”

Cheeky bugger, this one. “Can’t film a porn if I’m an innocent soul, hmmm?” You hum.

“Well, no, what I mean is--!” San sputtered and you found it cute.

“She’s playing with you, San.” Seonghwa claps the younger’s back. “The script is definitely yours,” he says to you. “I can feel your voice right now and it is so similar to the narrative.”

You can’t help but shrug. “A woman in power is a heady thing.” You straighten your spine to get back into the professional head space. “Back to the script, the scene--”

“It’s my turn, right?” Seonghwa interrupts your train of thought. 

You lay down the script. “Exactly. The main character has decided what she’s had in her mouth she’d like to feel inside of her. And she can’t leave out her new toy, so she decides she’ll take San from behind.”

“Can you show us?” San wonders. 

Casting was easy with this one. You had judged him too quickly when he had walked into the room. Natural bitch face had you pegging him as one of those ‘take’er from behind and slap that ass’ type man. But the minute he read your script, wet eyes big and begging, you knew he’d be perfect. 

“The position is that San, with his arms, is going to hold the female up and open for Seonghwa,” You supply. 

Seonghwa stood up along with San. “Won’t that be uncomfortable for her?”

“She’s been warned. A few stretches will do wonders for her,” You shake your head.

“I think he means, would that really be comfortable if they were truly having sex?” San clarifies.

You frown. “Well, no, it’s actually quite easy--”

San’s hands descend on your shoulders, having taken his place behind you. Oh. They wanted that kind of show. Whatever helped them film the scene better, you supposed. 

You lean a little bit against San’s firm chest. “So, to start you’re gonna lift one of her legs by the back of her thigh. You want to almost brag to Seonghwa that you came inside her first. Your cum should be dripping out of her, and Seonghwa says--”

“--I can’t see that well, lift her other leg,” Seonghwa supplies in a sultry tone.

You nod. “Exactly so then--” You can’t help but squeal as San puts you in the position that the female actor is going to be. His hands grip your thighs firmly, immediately burning a handprint through your leggings. 

“I’m turned on by another man’s cum dripping out of your pussy or I’m simply eager to add my own to the mix?” Seonghwa wonders. 

“Uh, well, I was thinking the latter,” You supply.

Seonghwa nods slowly like he’s absorbing your words. “But San’s got no way to maneuver himself inside of you. He’s using his hands to hold you up.”

You’d let the freudian slips go. “If you check the script, it says that--”

San begins to lift you slowly up. “Aren’t I supposed to let my cum run down your cunt and coat my cock?”

Okay, one of them making a mistake you could accept but the both of them? “Her cunt. Yes, and then--”

“Can I help him?” Seonghwa asks. 

He’s awfully close to you now, his lips turned inward as if he’s anticipating your response.

“To put himself inside of her?” You ask. Seonghwa nods. “Well, I suppose that adlib wouldn’t be horrible. I wasn’t exactly looking to festishize two males in this one, though.”

“It’s just one bro helping another. What if he slips while trying to push in?” Seonghwa supplies.

San’s most definitely getting turned in by the conversation. His bulge is between your ass cheeks now. He must be trying to figure out how high he’ll have to raise you--her---so that he can penetrate the asshole. 

“So, we can practise this on set with your co-star. Now if you’ll just let me down, San.” You wait but you don’t feel the release of San’s muscles. “San?”

“Wouldn’t it be better if we practised more?” Seonghwa meets your gaze, eyes searching out yours. 

You raise both eyebrows. “I think this is plenty, don’t you?”

Seonghwa shakes his head. “I thought I’d help a newbie out. San’s not done anal on camera before. We should pop his cherry before you get back in your directing chair.”

Well, that’s a new one. 

“With me.” You state.

“Who better to practise with than the one with the vision? You can give us notes afterwards. Learning first hand would give me such an edge moving forward,” San murmurs into your ear. 

Your nipples tighten under your shirt. Instead, you say, “This is so unprofessional.” You squirm slightly in San’s grasp but he adjusts quickly, not letting you go. 

Seonghwa shakes his head, his fringe in his eyes making him blink cutely, helping his case. “Surely not. It’s our profession and yours. You tell us where to go, just like on set, and we’ll follow your lead. You’ve got the lines memorized, right, San?”

“Are you sure you want to do this?” San says, straight from the script and going right to your stomach, curling there like a purring cat.

“Don’t you want this too?” You reply with a husky voice, unable to help your tone. 

“It’s more important that this is what you need,” Seonghwa purrs. 

“I need both of you inside of me.” Your voice is wobbling by now. 

“This is in the way though,” Seonghwa muses.

“No no, wait--!”

Before you get a chance to tell Seonghwa to not ruin your only pair of pants on set, Seonghwa's already tearing the crotch apart. The satisfying ripping sound is like music to your director’s ears, however. 

Seonghwa lets out a very male chuckle. “Oh, she’s gooey.”

“Excuse you,” You cough out. 

“It’s too bad it isn’t my cum though,” San laments. 

Jesus, how long had these two been planning this? Was it because of your demonstration earlier? 

“Good point,” Seonghwa agrees, lips pursed in thought. 

“Where else are you going to get lube at a laundromat?” You laugh weakly. 

“Mmmm, spit will just have to do,” San says.

“Oh no, young padewan,” Seonghwa shakes his head, his shoulders moving with silent laughter. “Spit will dry too quickly. Get inside of her cunt first, coat yourself with her wetness, then fuck her ass.”

“Oh, pro tips coming from a pro, huh?” You can hear the grin in San’s voice.

“Also you’re putting the cart before the horse. You have to get out of your pants first,” Seonghwa says with a crooked, playful grin.

“Weren’t you supposed to be helping me with that?” San reminds Seonghwa.

Seonghwa looks at you inquiringly. “Well, Director? What do you think?”

“Tease--” You croak so you have to clear your throat. “Tease him.”

Seonghwa looks over your shoulder to San. “You didn’t say anything earlier.”

“Please, Papi, tease me,” San coos and then laughs. 

The joking between them relaxes some muscles in you. Two men being at ease with each other, especially on set, was settling whatever nerve had been holding you back.

“That’s it, sweetheart, use my chest to relax. It’s us pleasing you, remember?” San murmurs.

Those plush lips of his brush along your neck and you find yourself turning your head to give him better access. When San moans into the crook of your neck, you know that Seonghwa has found his target. 

“There we go, I didn’t even have to do anything,” Seonghwa whispers quietly. “Sannie was nice and hard for you already. Now we just have to get him inside of you.”

Seonghwa angles San so that the younger man can penetrate you. You and San groan in unison as he slides right into you without any resistance. With all of your weight in San’s hands and arms, the pornstar flexes his abdomen and shallowly thrusts inside of you. You whimper at the stimulation. 

“Just enough to coat it,” Seonghwa reminds San. “Remember, that’s my hole.”

“Yeah yeah,” San grumbles. “She’s clamping down on me so hard though. It’s like she doesn’t want me to leave.”

You’ve got a problem on your hands: you’re already dumb on San’s cock. 

“No no, don’t leave,” You moan. “So good.”

Seonghwa grips your chin to bring you back to reality. “C’mon, lover, don’t go soft on us now.”

“So good,” You whine.

Seonghwa captures your lips in a kiss. “God, you’re cute when you’re pussy drunk.”

“No!’ You whimper as San slowly pulls out of you.

“It’s okay,” San reassures you. “I won’t leave you empty for long.”

With the aid of Seonghwa again, San penetrates your puckered hole, more slowly this time. When he’s full hilt inside of you, you mewl when he doesn’t make any movement.

“So demanding,” Seonghwa jokes, flipping to the script. 

You attempt to pull some moisture into your mouth by licking your lips. One of your hands clasps the back of Seonghwa’s neck. “You better finish inside of me before my loads are done, otherwise, I’ll be the one you never finished.”

Seonghwa flashes you a crooked, slow smile that makes your insides melt even more. “It would be my pleasure.”

Seonghwa’s hand moves to the small of your back to push your lower half further out, somewhat pulling San out of you but pushing into you nonetheless. 

“Oh, oh my god,” You curse at just how full it is to feel this way. Again. 

“That’s not the line, Miss Director. Should we call cut and roll it back?” San wonders. He pulls you back down on his length, pulling Seonghwa out. 

“No, no, I can do it,” You gasp, pulling yourself back from the lust-fog that’s covered your mind. “I want to feel like you’re fucking me on the washing machine, come on boys,” You whine. 

Then it’s off to the races as the two pornstars fuck you like they’re being filmed. You can feel San’s body rolling behind you, small puffs of air hitting the back of your neck. Seonghwa almost doesn’t have to do anything to move in and out of you, so he takes advantage of his free hands and holds your head in place for messy kisses. San whines about being left out and you watch in awe as the two exchange a kiss full of tongue and saliva. 

“I’m not going to last very long,” You admit. 

“I thought it took two dicks to even make you come?” Seonghwa counters with the lines from the script.

“It’s just so good. I forgot. Oh please please please don’t slow down. You’ve got to recover and then we’ve got to shoot and--”

Any further real life invasive thoughts are gone as Seonghwa sucks his thumb and then begins to rub your clit. 

“Let’s see you come, Director,” Seonghwa suggests.

“Are your come noises pornographic?” You could picture the adorable eye smile of San’s right now at his pun.

Your back arches, your toes point, and your legs spread as you come hard enough to see stars behind your eyes. You don’t even attempt to quiet your groans as they both fuck you through your orgasm and search out their own. 

“Fu-fill me up,” You manage to stutter.

San’s first to go, bringing his hips flush to your ass and releasing with a low groan. He holds your legs wide as Seonghwa finishes next, nose scrunched up and unloading everything he’s got. 

“Not sure our co-star will be able to live up to that performance,” Seonghwa teases you.

“Oh god,” You moan. “San let go of my legs. One at a time, mind you, please.”

San does as you ask, Seonghwa’s hand firmly on your waist in aid. Your face heats up as you feel both loads of cum slowly start to leak out of you. You clench as hard as you can with both holes. 

“No one speaks of this,” You command.

San dips his head, his eyes searching out yours. “Because this is going to happen more often or..?”

Seonghwa starts to laugh at the rookie’s insistence. “That can be the price for our silence,” he offers, eyes shining with amusement. 

You rub your eyebrows in worry. “We’ll figure out the semantics later. Clean up and I’m going to see if my assistant can’t find me another pair of leggings.”

“No notes?” San pouts.

“I think the fact that she was dick-drunk was enough,” Seonghwa supplies.

When both male pornstars leave your trailer, you hear the perky voice of the female actress from outside of your trailer.

“Where have you two been?” She wonders.

“Getting notes from the director,” San says immediately. 

“She’s great, isn’t she?” the female actress sighs happily.

“Oh, better than you can imagine,” Seonghwa confirms.

The male laughter you can hear from inside your trailer is enough to get your face heated up again. Filming the rest of this movie was going to be a pain in your ass… literally.

[mingismoralloyalty]

This was so good and entertaining, just as always 😍😍😍

They are both so chill and Sannie is so cute, especially when he tries to be funny 😂❤️

[nayiana0]

“Keep Watching”

choi san. your hopelessly obsessed boyfriend. you ask one innocent question about what he does when you’re not around and immediately regret it .. or do you?

wc: 1.7k

tags: explicit content, masturbation, mutual masturbation, handjob, dirty talk, praise, voyeurism, possessive san, obsessed san, needy san, whiny san, established relationship, teasing, softdom!san, fluff, aftercare

a/n : hi guys! after almost a year away, i figured my comeback should be the successor to my fic 'keep talking'. thank you for 800+ followers. i love yall

You’re wrapped around your boyfriend like a koala, half in his lap, half sprawled across his chest when the thought suddenly hits you.

You pull back, narrow your eyes, tilt your head all suspicious:

“Wait… when I’m not here… do you, like… get yourself off?”

San freezes mid–back rub.

“…Huh?”

“Answer. The question.” Your eyes squint even harder.

He sighs, looks away, rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Baby, why would you ask me something like—”

“Cause I wanna know!”

He stares at you… then gives up.

“I watch our tapes.”

“Huh?”

“Our sex tapes.”

“San—”

“And I look at your Instagram pictures.”

“San.”

“And sometimes I screenshot your bikini photos before you delete them.”

“San???”

“And sometimes I use the ones where you’re adjusting your top because you always look flustered and—”

“Stop—”

He keeps going, dead serious, like he’s reading a grocery list:

“And that one video where you’re laughing and your boobs bounce a little? Yeah. That one goes crazy. Top-tier.”

“What????”

“And those mirror selfies where your hair is messy. And the ones where you’re not even trying. Those are the worst.” He shifts under you, already getting hard just thinking about it.

You smack his chest.

“You’re SICK.”

He shrugs.

“I’m in love.”

You slap him harder.

“You’re DEPRAVED.”

Another shrug.

“You’re SEXY.”

You bury your face in your hands, dying.

He gently pulls them away, lowering his voice:

“You asked, baby. You really think I jerk off to random women? No. Everything I do, I do to you.”

He leans in, kissing your cheek, jaw, neck.

“And if you want… I can show you exactly how I do it.”

You slide off his lap just a little, sitting between his knees, eyes wide and way too curious for his sanity.

“…Show me, then.”

San blinks once. Twice. His Adam’s apple jumps.

“…Yeah?” he asks, voice already dropping into that low, dangerous tone.

You nod.

He drags a hand down his face like he knows he’s about to ruin you with this demonstration alone.

“Okay,” he mutters, leaning back into the couch, legs spreading a little, “but don’t— don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

You bite your lip.

He sees it. He groans.

Then he slips a hand under the waistband of his sweats, pulls himself out, already half-hard from the conversation alone. His breaths get shaky, on purpose, because he knows you’re watching.

“Normally…” he starts, eyes flicking to yours, “…I start slow. Just— thinking about you walking around the house, tiny little outfit, pretending you’re not teasing me.”

His thumb glides over the tip spreading the precum, — and he sighs, deep, breathy, borderline whimpering.

You swallow so hard he hears it.

“And then,” he continues, pumping slowly, “I think about how you look when you ride me… all loud and needy…”

You shift on your knees.

He definitely notices.

His lashes flutter, and he lets out a soft, broken “mmh—fuck…”

You scoot closer.

He moans again, high, pretty, shameless, because he’s absolutely doing this on purpose now.

“You like watching me, baby?” he breathes out, jaw clenching, hips lifting into his own hand. “Yeah… you do…”

You nod, dazed.

He groans, throwing his head back for a second, biting his lip dramatically, exaggerating it because he knows it gets you.

Then he looks at you through heavy lids.

“You always make me this hard,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little. “Even when you’re not here.”

Your thighs press together.

He smirks, then lets out another deliberate whimper, soft and choked, like he knows it shoots straight into your bloodstream.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hand stroking himself faster. “If you’re gonna watch… watch up close.”

You crawl into his lap.

He pulls your hand to his stomach— so warm, tense, shaking, and keeps moaning softly, messy and pretty, just for you.

He’s doing all of this on purpose.

You lean in so close he can feel your breath on his throat, eyes glued to every movement of his hand, every twitch of his stomach, every shaky inhale he lets slip.

And San loses his mind over it.

“Jesus…” he whispers, voice cracking when he looks down and sees your face—eyes blown wide, lips parted, studying him like he’s something you want to taste. “You’re really watching me like this…?”

You nod slowly. His chest stutters.

He bites his lip so hard a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“That’s— fuck— this is the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” he mutters, voice warm and breathless. He spreads his legs wider, giving you a better view, pumping his hand a little harder… slower… letting you see everything. “You’re looking at me like you wanna eat me alive.”

“San,” you breathe. His eyes darken instantly.

“Oh my god…” he laughs under his breath, ruined already, “you’re obsessed with me.”

Your face heats.

He cups your chin with his free hand, forcing you to hold eye contact while the other keeps stroking, wet and filthy and slow enough to make your stomach twist.

“You like how I do it?” he whispers. You nod. His smile is evil.

“You like seeing what I do when you’re not home?” Another nod.

His grip tightens. His thighs flex under you.

“Y’know what I think about?” he murmurs, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. “You. On your knees. Mouth open. Eyes like that. Waiting for me.”

Your breath catches.

He groans. 

“Keep watching,” he says, voice low and trembly. “Don’t look away. Not once.”

You don’t.

Your eyes track the movement of his hand, the veins on his forearm, the way his stomach tightens every time he pumps upward. He notices. He feels your stare. It makes him moan again—soft, involuntary, almost shy.

You whisper, barely audible:

“…You look so hot.”

He chokes on a breath. His hips jerk.

And his voice drops even lower, wrecked and proud and starving:

“Say that again.”

You whisper it again, slower. “So fucking hot.”

You slide closer—slow, curious, innocent in that way that makes his whole body seize up—and tilt your head.

“Can I help…?”

His hand falters on himself, eyes snapping to yours like you just offered him the cure to every problem he’s ever had.

“…yeah,” he whispers, voice already breaking, “yeah—baby, c’mere.”

Your smaller hand slips under his, replaces his stroke. The second your skin touches him he whimpers—a real one, sharp and desperate, right against your neck.

“Oh—fuck—” His head drops to your shoulder. He’s trembling.

He grabs your wrist gently, guiding your rhythm, but you’re already doing it exactly how he likes—soft at the base, tight at the top, twisting up just a little—

“Baby,” he gasps, breath hitting your collarbone, “you’re—fuck—you’re so good at this—”

His hips buck into your palm. His hand is gripping your thigh, hard enough to bruise.

You look up at him through your lashes and his knees actually shake.

“That’s it,” you whisper, teasing, “you like when I do it?”

He moans. A pretty, broken, breathy sound right into your ear.

“I love—when you—help me—god—fuuuck” He’s collapsing, chest heaving, face flushed, thighs tense beneath you. The wet slick sound of your hand working him faster fills the room and he completely loses the last bit of control he had.

“Y/N—baby—oh my god I’m gonna cum—”

You tighten your grip, stroke him exactly how he likes—

His whole body jerks—

He lets out the most ruined groan you’ve ever heard—

And he finishes right into your hand, warm and messy and so much more than you expected.

He collapses into you, panting into your shoulder, completely melted.

Your sticky hand is still resting on him when he finally breathes again.

“…you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice wrecked, trembling all over. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

You hold your hand up— dripping.Absolutely covered in him. A warm, glossy mess. Your eyes go wide on purpose.

“…San.”

He looks up from your shoulder, dazed, hair a mess, breaths still shaking.

And you wiggle your fingers.

“Look at this! You're. SO. Desperate.”

His whole face flushes scarlet.

“Baby—” he groans, grabbing your wrist to hide the evidence, “don’t… don’t say it like that…”

But you lean back, smirking like the menace you are.

“You made a huge mess. This is—San, this is ridiculous. You couldn’t even hold it for a second??”

He hides his face in your neck, mortified, whining like a grown man being scolded.

“You can’t tease me after what you just did to me,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, “I warned you—I told you I was close—you kept going—baby, you know what you were doing—”

“No,” you say, faking innocence, showing your sticky palm again, “you’re nasty. Nasty. Look at this.”

He pulls your wrist down, panicked.

“Stop showing it to me!” His voice cracks. “I know what I did!”

You laugh so hard he swats your thigh lightly, embarrassed, still breathless.

Then he looks up at you—eyes heavy, lips parted, totally ruined—and mutters:

“…clean your hand before you start teasing me again or I swear I’ll make an even bigger mess.”

OH.

You grab a warm towel and clean him up gently, slow little wipes that make him flinch because he’s still sensitive.

You purposely kiss the tip softly just to watch him jolt.

“Y/N—!” You kiss it again..

He slaps a hand over his face. “Stop… you’re gonna kill me…”

You hop off the bed, still glowing, still smug, and go to the mirror. You clean yourself up too—wiping your mouth, fixing your hair—

But then curiosity hits.

You look at your fingers. You look at him in the reflection. You drag your tongue over them.

Slow. Purposeful.

San’s jaw drops.

“…that tastes kinda good. Somebody changed their diet. Good boy.”

His ears turn red.

“Why would you DO that?!”

You shrug in the mirror, wiping your lips.

“I was curious.”

“That’s not— you can’t just— you—” He’s literally malfunctioning.

Then, quieter, almost proud:

“…but yeah, I did start eating more fruit.”

You grin.

“Mm. I noticed.”

He hides under a pillow. Absolutely finished.

Masterlist

pt 2??

[thatateezgirl]

𝕋𝕒𝕝𝕜𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝔹𝕠𝕕𝕪

Now if we’re talking body, you’ve got a perfect one so put it on me

---------

𝗉𝖺𝗂𝗋𝗂𝗇𝗀: 𝗂𝖽𝗈𝗅!𝖩𝗈𝗇𝗀𝗁𝗈 𝗑 𝖿𝖾𝗆!𝗋𝖾𝖺𝖽𝖾𝗋

𝗀𝖾𝗇𝗋𝖾: 𝗌𝗆𝗎𝗍

𝖼𝗈𝗇𝗍𝖾𝗇𝗍 𝗐𝖺𝗋𝗇𝗂𝗇𝗀𝗌: 𝖬𝖣𝖭𝖨, 𝗏𝗈𝗒𝖾𝗎𝗋𝗂𝗌𝗆 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗈𝗍𝗁𝖾𝗋 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋𝗌 (𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿), 𝗅𝗂𝗇𝗀𝖾𝗋𝗂𝖾, 𝗅𝗂𝗍𝗍𝗅𝖾 𝖻𝗂𝗍 𝗈𝖿 𝖺𝗅𝖼𝗈𝗁𝗈𝗅, 𝗈𝗋𝖺𝗅 (𝖿 𝗋𝖾𝖼𝖾𝗂𝗏𝖾𝗌), 𝗌𝗊𝗎𝗂𝗋𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀, 𝖻𝗋𝗂𝖾𝖿 𝗁𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗃𝗈𝖻, 𝗉 𝗂𝗇 𝗏, 𝗎𝗇𝗉𝗋𝗈𝗍𝖾𝖼𝗍𝖾𝖽 𝗌𝖾𝗑, 𝖼𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗆𝗉𝗂𝖾

𝗐𝗈𝗋𝖽𝗌: 2.6𝖪

𝖠𝖭: 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗂𝗌 𝖻𝖺𝗌𝖾𝖽 𝗈𝖿𝖿 𝗈𝖿 𝖺 𝖼𝗁𝖺𝗅𝗅𝖾𝗇𝗀𝖾 𝖨 𝗌𝖾𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗆𝗒𝗌𝖾𝗅𝖿: 𝗁𝖺𝗏𝖾 𝖲𝗉𝗈𝗍𝗂𝖿𝗒 𝗉𝗂𝖼𝗄 𝗈𝗇𝖾 𝗋𝖺𝗇𝖽𝗈𝗆 𝗌𝗈𝗇𝗀 𝖺𝗇𝖽 𝗐𝗋𝗂𝗍𝖾 𝖺 𝖿𝗂𝖼 𝗂𝗇𝗌𝗉𝗂𝗋𝖾𝖽 𝖻𝗒 𝗂𝗍! 𝖨’𝗅𝗅 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝖾𝖺𝖼𝗁 𝗆𝖾𝗆𝖻𝖾𝗋 (c𝗈𝗇𝗌𝗂𝖽𝖾𝗋 𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗌 𝗆𝗒 𝗋𝖾𝖽𝖾𝗆𝗉𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗅𝖺𝗌𝗍 𝗐𝖾𝖾𝗄’𝗌 𝗁𝖾𝖺𝗋𝗍𝖻𝗋𝖾𝖺𝗄) 𝖨 𝗐𝗈𝗇’𝗍 𝖻𝖾 𝖽𝗈𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖺 𝗉𝖺𝗋𝗍 𝗍𝗐𝗈 𝗎𝗇𝗅𝖾𝗌𝗌 𝖼𝗈𝗆𝗆𝗂𝗌𝗌𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖾𝖽

𝖾𝗏𝖾𝗋𝗒𝗍𝗁𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝗂𝗌 𝖿𝗂𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗈𝗇𝖺𝗅, 𝗃𝗎𝗌𝗍 𝖿𝗈𝗋 𝗌𝗈𝗆𝖾 𝖽𝗂𝗌𝗍𝗋𝖺𝖼𝗍𝗂𝗇𝗀 𝖿𝗎𝗇

𝖱𝖾𝗉𝗈𝗌𝗍𝗌 𝖺𝗋𝖾 𝗌𝗎𝗉𝖾𝗋 𝖺𝗉𝗉𝗋𝖾𝖼𝗂𝖺𝗍𝖾𝖽 🤍

---------

You unlock the door to your apartment, a sigh of relief flowing through you at finally being able to spend some well deserved alone time with your boyfriend. He’s been on tour for a month, and for the past three days he’s been back, you’ve not been able to spend any time with him between both of your busy schedules.

“Hey baby I’m h…”

Your voice trails off when you hear a sudden burst of laughter, familiar voices following suit.

“Oh hell no.”

You speedwalk to the living room to find your boyfriend surrounded by some of his bandmates, drinking beer and eating some snacks.

Hongjoong sees you first. “Y/n, hey, long time no see!”

Your smile is pinched as you nod your head to him, making your way over to your smiley boyfriend. His ears are a little red, and you notice there’s a couple of empty beer bottles next to him.

“Hi.” He says sweetly as you approach, hugging your waist with one hand.

“Jongho, what are they doing here?” You ask in a quiet voice, trying to keep your smile impassable.

It’s not that you mind having the boys here. In fact you love it, and usually you’d be more than happy to join in. But the fact is that you haven’t had sex with your hot, sexy boyfriend in far too long, and you’re about to burst if he doesn’t fuck you in the next five minutes.

“I know, I know.” He starts, shiny eyes apologetically looking up at you. “But we had a stressful day and I suggested we come back here for a beer.” He looks at the table. “Okay, maybe a few beers… But, come on, join in, you’ll have fun!”

You laugh awkwardly. “Baby, I was looking for a different kind of fun. You know…” you rub his neck with your nails, grazing it lightly, creating goosebumps.

He clears his throat.

“They won’t be long. Right, guys?” He says as he turns to them.

Yeosang nods. “Don’t worry we won’t linger. But join us! We’ve missed you too, you know!”

You smile sweetly at him, a smile that makes Jongho’s stomach twist for some reason.

“I’ll be back in a sec.”

You grab your bag and make your way to the bedroom. There, you rummage through your drawers.

Is the idea crazy? Hell yeah. But you don’t care. You’re horny, desperate, and you won’t take no for an answer. If he can’t make them leave, you know you will.

You take one last look in the mirror, your heart beating extra fast as you take in the black lingerie set. It’s Jongho’s favourite for a reason - you need to pull out all the stops.

Adjusting the bra one last time so it enhances your boobs perfectly, you slap on a pair of shiny black high heels to match the ensemble. You look at the lace robe for a second, wondering if you should put it on for modesty. Ultimately, you decide against it - let’s do this properly.

You step out of your bedroom, the sound of your heels giving you away before they see you.

The first one to catch sight of you is Mingi, whose jaw drops, beer stopping mid air. The other men follow his line of sight, and various curses leave their mouths.

“Oh my god!”

“Y/n what the fuck do you think you’re doing.”

“I didn’t see anything I swear!”

Jongho jumps up, pulling the other men by their collars as they either look at you dumbfounded, or look away, completely red in the face. 

“Out. Out! Now!”

They barely have time to collect their jackets and shoes before he slams the door behind them.

He stands with his hand against the frame for a second, panting heavily, as if he’s trying to wrap his head around what just happened.

When he turns around, you’re resting innocently against the back of the couch, the picture of innocence in the black lace three piece combo and garters that leave very little to the imagination.

“What the fuck was that!”

You shrug. “You weren’t gonna make them leave, I had to do something.”

He scoffs, hands waving at you. “And this was your bright idea? Showing up naked in front of my friends, my members - my captain?”

“Oh come on, I wasn’t naked. I’m wearing a bra, panties and a skirt. Well… it’s more like a sexy lace belt, but whatever.”

He takes a step towards you. “Don’t play dumb. You know this was inappropriate.”

You turn your body to face him, catching the thick gulp in his throat as his eyes trace your figure with a hunger he’s failing to suppress.

“You know what’s inappropriate, Jongho?” You say, your voice dripping with honey. “Spending a whole month thinking of nothing but how much you miss your boyfriend - so much so that you get distracted in meetings. In the car. At dinner with family and friends. Until you come home on the first night you know you both have free - just to find him there with the guys he just spent a whole month with.”

You take a step towards him this time. “What’s inappropriate, baby, is you not being desperate to fuck your hot, horny ass girlfriend after not seeing her for a month.”

He swallows again, his resolve crumbling with every word.

“Believe me, I missed you. Every day. I missed you and your sexy body every fucking day. And I was gonna make them leave, I just didn’t wanna be rude!”

“Well, it’s okay. They can be mad at me for being rude.” You grab his shirt, pulling him closer to you.

“And if we’re talking body… Choi Jongho I swear to god you better put your perfect one on me in the next three seconds or I’m showing up like this to the next event we’re inv-”

He doesn’t let you finish your thought, crashing his lips onto yours as he cradles your head in his large palms.

The taste of his sweet lips, slight bitterness from his beers, flows through you like a drug you’ve been deprived of for far too long.

You grab onto him as he walks you to the couch, pressing you against its back, forcing you to sit on it with your legs spread around his.

“Fuck I’ve missed you.” He mumbles between wet kisses, to which you can only muster a moan in response.

“Missed your perfect lips.” He trails his own down, tilting your head away with his hand. “Perfect neck.” His grip holds you steady as he makes his way down your cleavage, kneeling in front of you. “Perfect tits. Perfect body. Perfect everything.”

You’re panting now, every word that comes out of his mouth adding to the electrifying heat coursing through you, making you dizzy.

“Tell me how much you’ve missed me. Tell me how desperate you were without me there to fuck your perfect pussy so hard you forgot your name.”

You whimper, thoughts clouded by his overwhelming touch.

“I’ve missed you so much that I… I rode your pillow ‘cause it smells like you…” You bite your lip. “My fingers and toys weren’t nough… they’re not you. You’re the only one who can make me cum like that…”

He bites the inside of your thigh, making you jolt.

“My perfect little slut rode my pillow, huh? Did you make a mess?”

You nod fervently.

“Does it still smell like you?”

You blush. “Washed it but… yes.”

He smirks. “Good.”

He yanks your panties to the side with one finger, exposing your soaked folds to the cool air of the room. He watches you for a moment, rough palm caressing and kneading your thigh until you start wriggling under him, impatient.

“Jongho…”

“Mmh… just taking in the sights babygirl.” He spreads you open with two fingers and you shudder. “The photos on my phone never do justice to how puffy you get when you need me.”

You run your fingers through his silky black hair as he looks up at you. You’ve missed him about as much as you missed the sight of him between your legs. He’s right. Your body only reacts like this for him because it knows only he can give you what you crave.

You yelp when you’re yanked down to his shoulders, your hips resting on the back of the couch as he wraps your legs around his head. Without a second thought, he dives in - like a man starved.

The lack of warning stops you from muffling your moans, the sound echoing on the walls with the wet slurps of his tongue on your cunt.

“Oh my g- fuck, baby.” Your voice is coming out all squeaky and breathless.

It’s like he’s sucking the air out of you with every lap of his tongue, and there’s nothing you can do but watch him.

His dark eyes keep hold of yours the whole time, committing your every expression to memory whilst his nails dig into the soft flesh of your thighs.

Mine is what he’s saying.

His nose rubs against your clit and you jolt, pressing your heels into his back, which has him hissing in return.

Your legs are starting to shake already when he inserts two fingers inside your weeping hole. Your cries only get louder, your chest heaving. You lean back fully into the couch, and the sight of your arched back, tits perked and encased so perfectly in the bra he loves so much has him doubling down his efforts, and it’s not long before you squirt on his hand. He smiles, satisfied by your predictable yet dizzying response to his touch.

You’ve missed him so much, been so on edge with pent up tension and need, that his fingers and mouth were all it took to have you unravel harder than you ever have.

You take in the feeling for a second, letting your senses return, before you sit up, unhooking your legs from his shoulders, and push him down on the floor.

“My turn.”

You grab the hem of his shirt, lifting it up over his head, revealing his perfect body that you’ve missed so much.

“You have no idea.” You start, kissing his golden skin. “How badly I’ve been needing you.”

He moans softly as you make your way down his chest, slowly.

“The nights I spent in our beds, trying to pretend my fingers were you.”

You hover over the hem of his jeans, unbuttoning them as you look up at him.

“But nothing compares to your cock.”

You pull the fabric down to reveal his length, red, hard, and glistening with precum.

You can’t help it, placing soft kisses on his tip as you look up at him. He hates when you tease him, and you love the way his face scrunches when you do.

You start moving your fist up and down, relishing in his burning heat in your palm, and he closes his eyes, twitching when you spread your spit on him.

His heart is beating a hundred miles a minute waiting for the feeling of your mouth on him, a feeling he thought about every day on tour, so he can’t help but whimper when he suddenly feels you sinking down on him.

“Wh- oh fuck y/n fuck” is all he can say when you start slowly tilting back and forth on him, anchoring yourself on his legs.

Nevermind feeling you suck him off - the sight in front of him is so much better.

The way your tits bounce softly with each movement, how the skirt as you call it is hugging your waist with precision, the way the garters are squeezing your thighs tightly… And then there’s you. Your soft skin he missed squeezing, your gorgeous lips parted ever so much from your moans, your hair framing your face perfectly…

“Remind me why I was away again?”

You look down at him smirking and gasping when you bounce on him in a particularly tantalising angle.

“Cause I fuck you so good when you come back.”

“Maybe I should wait longer next t- argh”

This time it’s you who doesn’t let him finish his thought as you lean forward, slamming your hips down on his.

“Don’t you dare.” You pant, bringing your hips down on his again and again, feeling that familiar coil tighten again in the pit of your stomach. “A month - too much. Needed you so bad.”

He grabs your chin, eyes switching between your face and where both of your hips meet.

“I’d never let my perfect girl down like that.”

Without warning, he lifts your hips up, planting his feet on the floor, and driving into you with so much force your knees slide on the cold tiles.

Your whimpers are broken by the force and speed of his thrusts, stealing the air from your lungs.

“Oh my god.”

He chuckles, sweat already forming on his brow. “Not god baby, just me.”

You bury your face in his neck, succumbing to the pleasure and letting him take full control of you. He’s holding your waist now, pulling you close to his chest so he can drive into you deeper, but he’s slipping against the floor. So without a moment to prepare you, he’s on top of you, your shoulder blades pressing into the hard floor.

With you underneath him, your legs wrapped around his shoulders, he’s free to completely destroy you.

“So good. So fuckin’ good.”

His lips are ravaging you, not knowing where to go - your face, your stomach, your leg, your chest. Every part of you is getting attention and yet he wishes he could give special care to each part of you separately like you deserve.

Ultimately, he just presses his forehead to yours, folding you in half even further, only concerned with being close to you.

“I’m gonna cum, you gon-”

You nod frantically, his tip hitting your cervix for the hundredth time making you feel so close to crumbling.

“‘ve missed you.” He mutters before kissing you hungrily, finally letting go inside you.

The feeling of fullness as he pumps his seed into you is just enough to bring you over the edge too, and he drinks in your cries eagerly.

This is what a month without sex was worth - every time you have him here with you again, you feel so full, not just physically, but emotionally. You’re not you without him there, and the desire you feel for him is simply a manifestation of your emptiness from his absence.

His hips finally stutter at the over sensitivity. His kisses have turned softer now, more reverent, grazing his lips down your sweat drenched neck, moving away the hair sticking to it. Your shaky legs around his neck draw his attention, peppering them with kisses, until he notices the growing purple spots.

“Baby, your knees are fucked…”

“Worth it.” You pant. “Do it again every time.”

He looks down at you, a glint of heat still in his eyes.

“You wanna?”

The clench between your legs answers for you.

“I think this is gonna be a long night…”

You kiss him.

“Oh baby, I could go on… and on… and on.”

---------

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[wooyungiee]

[bro-atz]

that's what roommates are for

in which: you're extremely frustrated, and your roommates can't help but overhear

pair: yunho/san/mingi/afab!reader

word count: 2.7k

content: sex, foursome/gang bang, oral, anal, double/triple penetration, unprotected sex, creampies, completely consensual!

rating: R — nsfw | mdni

part one | part two

You didn’t know this, but the guys could hear you. You thought that they were too invested in playing video games that they wouldn’t be able to hear you playing with yourself and your vibrator, but they heard every single noise coming from your room. They specifically paused their video game so they could hear your soft, stifled moans and sighs of pleasure, all three of them getting real fucking hard with every passing second.

You just needed release, honestly. It felt like it had been centuries since you had a nice, good fuck, and you were super pent up. However, a vibrator did nothing for you, and you didn’t have the energy to use a dildo. You struggled trying to get yourself to cum for a solid several minutes before officially throwing in the towel and calling it a day.

The second they heard the vibrator turn off, the men resumed their video game, all three of them trying their hardest to ignore the lewd sounds coming from your room just moments prior and their rock solid cocks. It certainly did not help when you joined them in the living room wearing nothing but shorts and a tank top— it was hot outside and in the apartment, and you weren’t about to sweat to death— and sitting down in front of the couch right next to Yunho’s legs.

You watched as the three of them fixated on their video game, unaware of the tension starting to build in the room. San was sitting in the arm chair and Mingi in the love seat, both of them stealing secret glances at you while Yunho did his best to keep his knee from bobbing up and down nervously as you rested your head against his leg, nor did he dare look down at you knowing that he would get an eyeful of your cleavage.

The second the round of the game ended, all three of them set their controllers aside and looked right at you. You, however, were still absentmindedly staring at the screen.

"Hey, roomie, you okay?" Yunho was the first to speak and somewhat hesitant at that.

He reached down towards your head and smoothed out your hair, making you tilt your head towards his leg. You let out a heavy sigh, your chest moving heftily, nearly getting all three boys to gag.

"Yeah... I'm fine..."

"That doesn't sound fine to me. Spill."

When you turned to look up at Yunho, your breasts pressed against his leg, making his entire body tense up and flush with heat. Then, you looked up at him with big, sad eyes that made him want to grab you and take you right there, but he held himself back because, oh dear Lord, you were his roommate for crying out loud.

"I'm just... Tired," you answered— and that was the truth. You were tired. You were tired of being so goddamn sexually frustrated, but there was no way in hell you were going to admit that to him or any of your other roommates. "Don't worry about it— It's not like you can do anything about it."

"Nuh-uh, don't do that girl thing where we ask you and then you keep deflecting and then get mad at us for not helping," Mingi spoke up, a little frustration in his voice.

"Yeah, plus, I'm sure if you told us, we could help in some way," San added, his voice nearly cracking as he realized the weight of his words.

"No, guys, seriously. I'm not doing that "thing", and I'm honestly just tired!"

"Would, uh, going to bed help?" Mingi asked while clearing his throat.

"You would think it would..." you muttered.

"Y/N, just tell us," Yunho prompted.

You pressed your lips together in a straight line then looked down at the ground. Oh, I'm just really fucking horny and frustrated and can't find a good guy to fuck is all. As if you could ever really admit that to your three male roommates.

"It's nothing," you said again. "I'm just going to go to bed. Good night, guys."

With that, you got up and left the three of them in the living room. You returned to your room, closed the door, and flung yourself onto your bed with a massive sigh. You stared at the ceiling while you tried to figure out what the hell to do about your fucking situation when you heard a light knock on the door.

"Come in," you said to the person on the other side.

Yunho walked in and closed the door gently behind him before joining you on the bed. You were still laying down and couldn't be bothered to sit up, so Yunho joined you and laid down right next to you, his body turned towards yours.

"Hey," he said softly.

"Hi..."

"Look at me," he continued while turning you over so that you were facing him.

His hand caressed your head as the two of you laid across from each other, the repetitive motion easing your anxiety slightly and also turning you on a bit.

"Tell me what's wrong."

"I can't say, Yunho..."

"Then... Can I say something?"

You blinked and nodded. Yunho pressed his lips together and closed his eyes for a brief second before trailing his hand from your head down your shoulder and to your waist, his fingers rubbing along the curve of your waist as he rested his hand there. You wanted to tear yourself from your roommate's touch, but he was just checking off all the boxes and making you feel just right that you wondered where on Earth he was going to go from there.

"We heard you earlier," he whispered.

He didn't need to clarify for you to understand exactly what he was talking about. Mortified, you covered your burning face with your hands and held back a scream, your entire body ready to burst into flames.

"And," he continued despite you praying in your head that he would not. "We would like to help... In any way..."

"Yunho, shut up," you nearly sobbed into your hands. "I'm literally so embarrassed right now."

"Y/N, I don't think you understand what I'm trying to say," Yunho let out a slightly exhausted sigh as he pulled your hands away from your face. "Whatever it is that's frustrating you, I'm sure we can help."

The second you looked into Yunho's eyes, your insides flipped. His eyes were usually soft and kind, but at that moment, he had the most intense gaze on you that made you feel like you were a piece of meat and he was starving to death.

That's when you did the unthinkable. You moved forward and left the lightest kiss on his lips before immediately moving back and looking at his reaction, your eyes darting back and forth as you observed every single detail on his face. Next thing you knew, Yunho's hand slipped to your ass, and he brought you forward, his lips meeting yours gently at first. It wasn't until you ran your fingers through the hair on the back of his head did Yunho get a lot more aggressive. He sucked hard on your lower lip before slipping his tongue into your mouth.

"Tell me," he breathed out, his hot breath hitting your neck. "What do you want?"

"I... I want to be fucked senseless," you responded in between kisses. "Until I can't cum anymore."

In response, Yunho pulled your leg over and around his legs, allowing him to press his crotch against yours, the large bulge sending shivers down your spine. You didn't expect him to be so packed, and he was still wearing his clothes, so it made you nervous to see exactly what he was working with.

"So, then," Yunho pulled back slightly, allowing you to breathe and regain the tiniest bit of sanity— he was an amazing kisser. "Will you let us help you?"

"God, yes, please," you agreed before the words could completely sink in. Gulping nervously, you asked, "What do you mean by us?"

You thought Yunho closed the door completely when he entered your room, but he didn't. Through the slight crack in the door, your other two roommates watched, their hard ons only getting harder and more painful. They wanted so badly to jump in and lend a hand, and they finally got that chance when Yunho turned to the door and said, "Don't just stand there and watch. Come help."

You sat up immediately and watched San and Mingi tentatively enter the room, their faces flushed, their eyes dark. They joined the two of you on the bed, all three men trapping you in the middle of them. Yunho was directly in front of you. He held your chin and tilted your head upwards.

"Suck my fingers, won't you?"

The filthy words leaving his mouth with the sweetest voice had your insides completely trembling. You took his hand in yours and slowly ran your tongue along his index finger before taking it into your mouth. Yunho's breath hitched as you looked up at him and sucked his finger so sensually. He was about to lose his fucking mind when you took another finger into your mouth, a slight whine leaving your lungs as your panties pooled with arousal and your hips moved back and forth impatiently.

San was the first to act. From behind, he reached in between your legs and started rubbing his fingers into your clothed crotch, your hips moving in sync with his fingers. But that wasn't enough. You needed more— way more.

Your hands hooked into the waistband of Yunho's pants and tugged down, his cock catching on the waistband before springing upwards. He was long and pretty, and you tried to calculate how big he actually was, but he barely gave you the chance to do so. He took his fingers out of your mouth and immediately replaced it with his cock. The tip hit the back of your throat almost immediately, making you gag. He placed his hand on the back of your head and guided you slowly until you bottomed out on his full length.

As you sucked Yunho's cock, San pushed you forward so that you were forced onto your hands and knees. He pulled your shorts down and immediately smacked your bare ass as if it was some sort of reflex, making you yelp and moan. His fingers rubbed along your wet folds a couple times before he sunk two of his fingers into your cunt, your toes curling as you felt him finger you roughly.

While San worked on you from behind, Mingi decided to work on your tank top. He scrunched up fabric in the middle and pulled downwards to release your breasts, the man inhaling sharply when he saw them jiggle slightly. He cupped your breast and massaged firmly before he rubbed and tugged on your nipples, your back arching as a result.

At that point, Mingi couldn't take it anymore. He pulled his own massive cock out and somehow moved your face towards his cock. When you took him into your mouth, you realized he was just as long as Yunho, but the corners of your mouth stung slightly because he was definitely girthier. A long, rumbling moan left Mingi's throat when you hollowed out your cheeks and began sucking obnoxiously loud. You were stroking Yunho's cock as you sucked on Mingi's, and San, who wanted some fun of his own, also pulled out his cock, willing you to stroke him too.

You took turns sucking all three men off, your saliva dripping off their dicks as your mouth watered more and more the longer you sucked. But, again, you needed more. You needed them inside you. You needed them to violate you.

Moments later, you were on your hands and knees on your bed once again. Yunho was lying on the bed underneath you, Mingi was kneeling behind you, and San was in front of you. They wasted no time in getting to work. Yunho slipped the tip of his cock into your cunt before holding your waist and sitting you down all the way.

"Oh, fuck! Yunho, you're too big," you nearly sobbed when you felt him hit your cervix when he bottomed out.

"Oh, then you're definitely going to lose it now," Mingi couldn't help but smirk when the tip of his cock prodded into your ass.

You cried loudly when Mingi forced his cock into you inch by inch, your tight hole spreading wide to fit his girth. Your cry was cut short when San stuffed his own cock into your mouth, the man shushing you as he did so.

"Yes, just like that," San groaned. "Fuck, you feel so good..."

You were so occupied by San's cock that you didn't realize Yunho was guiding your waist up and down. You only realized that you were bouncing when you felt Mingi's go deeper inside you. Tingles shot through your body as you felt their cocks rubbing and reaching all the right spots, and when Mingi smacked your ass before grabbing so tightly that his fingernails dug slightly into your skin, you felt tension build up in your stomach at an exponential rate.

Suddenly, San's breathing hitched. He grabbed the back of your head and pulled his cock, but before he could cum, you managed to take him back into your mouth. His cock twitched and throbbed as his cum spurt into your mouth, his eyes rolling to the back of his head and his jaw unhinging slightly as he came. After blinking the stars from his eyes, he looked at you and bit his lower lip while petting your hair, his cock still rock solid in your mouth.

You were quickly brought back to the situation when Yunho bucked his hips upwards, his cock practically ramming into your cervix as he came. Your legs trembled, and you let out a choked sob as you felt the tension snap within you. White filled your vision and pleasure swept through your body as you came hard. Yunho raised your waist off his hips entirely, and you squirted all over him and the bed when his cock left you, his own cum mixed with your arousal. Both his and your cum then rolled down your legs slowly, Yunho salivating at the sight and getting turned on all over again.

Mingi's cock was still deep in your ass, and he spread your asscheeks wide before pulling out, the sight of your gaping hole driving him insane. He just had to re-enter you because he was so close to bursting, and he desperately wanted to fill you up with his cum. He rammed his hips against your ass over and over again with so much force that you practically collapsed on Yunho's chest, and he was being so forceful that you were crying with pleasure so loudly that it echoed in the room. To make matters even crazier, Yunho sat up slightly so he could reach in between your legs and finger you quickly while San wrapped his hand around your neck and pressed into the sides lightly, choking you and making you feel absolutely wrecked.

Yunho's fingers curled inside you just right to the point where you came yet again, and this time you came so hard that you clenched tightly around Mingi's cock, the intense pressure making him cum with you. You gasped for air and moaned loudly when San let go of your neck to rest his hand on your cheek as if to praise you. He tugged on your lower lip with his thumb, making you instinctually take his thumb into your mouth and sucking on it.

Mingi pulled out and spread your ass once more to look at his work. He watched as your hole clenched around air several times before the cum he shot deep into you started coming to the surface and trickling out and rolling down your ass and leg.

"Shit, this is so fucking hot," Mingi uttered to himself as he couldn't tear his eyes away from you. "You're so fucking hot."

"Y/N is so fucking hot," San added as he tapped his cock against your cheek. "Very fucking hot... We should do this more often."

"What if..." you breathed out— you were still catching your breath. "What if I'm not done with you yet?"

"Hmm? You still don't feel good?" Yunho teased as he moved your hair from your face, willing you to look at him. "Do you want more?"

"Yes, please."

[mulloey]

want me inside…

he can’t bear it anymore—not when you’re so tight, so warm, so perfect to breed. he has to get you pregnant, and he’s not gonna stop until until he’s certain it’s taken.

words: 3.1k

PLEASE READ THE WARNINGS! desperate whiny wooyoung, a LOT of whining. breeding, unprotected sex, cum stuffing i suppose, mating press, wet and messy, pregnancy kink sort of. he’s so desperate to get you pregnant it’s all he can think about. lots of cum and talk of cum. one slap of your breast.

title from switch it up - jayb & sokodomo. dedicated to @lovelyun

It’s not unusual for sex with Wooyoung to end up like this.

Especially when he’s been away on tour, or busy with comeback preparations—whenever he’s not able to fuck you as much of often as he likes, this is the result.

Whiny. Desperate. Clinging to you; fingers digging into your skin, blunts of his nails pressed in deep enough to sting. Like he’s holding on for dear life; like he’s afraid that if he lets go, if he loosens his grip even a little bit, you’ll slip away for good.

He was already half hard when you walked into the living room in a thin t-shirt, the fabric a little tighter around your tits and hips, nipples visible through the white cotton. He’d started getting hard on the car ride home just from the thought of you; the thought of how pent up he knows you are after days without him, how desperate you must be, how easy it’ll be to make you come undone and everything he’s going to do to get you there. He’d spent the whole journey with his bag on his lap, trying to hide the imprint of his hardening cock against his sweats in case the taxi driver decided to glance back at him in the rearview mirror.

Fuck, he should’ve worn underwear, but he knows you prefer it when he doesn’t, especially in those sweats. He hadn’t really thought about how difficult that would make it to get home; hadn’t remember how fucking easy it is for him to get hard over you.

When he entered the apartment, when you walked through to greet him, his dick was already straining the fabric of his sweats. The sight of you, the way your shirt clings to your body, your bare legs—it took him the rest of the way. He felt the beads of precum leaking from the tip as you padded across the floor over to him.

Fuck, he needs you bad. He wasn’t even half this bad when he met you; he was far from low libido, but you just bring something out in him that’s entirely new.

“Hey,” you smiled. “Missed you.”

He didn’t even reply. Couldn’t reply; the moment your hand was wrapped around his wrist, pulling him towards you, the moment he got a whiff of your scent, the body wash you like to lather over yourself and a hint of your natural sweetness—he couldn’t do anything but pounce.

He barely got you to the bedroom. He didn’t even get your shirt all the way off; just yanked it up so your tits were exposed, so he could watch the way your nipples hardened in the cold air, how the skin reddened when he smacked lightly at your breasts just to watch them move, so he could feel the warmth when he grasped them in his hands. He managed to pull it over your head, but neither of you thought to pull out your arms, so now it’s sitting there, leaving you entirely exposed while he fucks you open.

By the time he’d pulled his dick out the front of his sweats had darkened, spots of wetness seeping through the light grey fabric, precum already smeared over his tip, He didn’t take them down, just pulled them far enough to get out his cock and got to work.

Your pussy was already wet, of course, just as he knew it would be—still he was kind enough to spit down onto your hole, a little more onto his fingers, smearing his saliva across your clit just to get you a little more needy for it before he finally sunk himself into you.

Wooyoung is thick, a little longer than average, and even with your pussy leaking and weeping for him like it often does, it took a bit of effort to get himself all the way inside. When he finally got himself in, when your hole was finally wrapped around his shaft, about halfway down, he yelled. The pressure, the pleasure was dizzying; the way you clung to him like you couldn’t handle him, like your poor little pussy didn’t know what to do with something his size—it was too much. Fuck, he had to close his eyes, squeeze them shut, dig his fingers into the skin of your hips to ground himself to avoid cumming before he’d even bottomed out.

He couldn’t handle it. The way you were responding—pussy leaking and clenching around him at the same time, so incredibly tight despite how needy and sloppy is already was for him; your cry, strangled and dizzied, when he sunk into you, your small, desperate whimpers as he continues to push inside—it almost pushed him over the edge. If he hadn’t closed his eyes in time to avoid the way your eyes widened, lips parting and shiny with drool as you tried to adjust to him, he knows he wouldn’t have been able to stop himself.

Now, finally, he’s bottomed out, dick all the way inside, pressing against your g-spot, slamming into it with every thrust. His brows are furrowed, pupils blown, sweat sticking to his forehead and dripping from his chin. His grip is iron, fingers digging into your hips, holding onto the skin like a lifeline; you know there’ll be bruises later, littering the expanses of your hips and waist, but you don’t care. It wouldn’t be the first time for either of you. You wear the marks he leaves, and he wears yours, like a badge of honour.

He’s going hard, rough, thrusts one after the other, so fast even he can barely keep up. He’s almost crying, you can tell; see the tears brimming in his eyes, hear his whines and gasps like he’s trying to keep himself together. “Fuck,” he hisses. “Fuck, you— baby. Oh my god.”

“Wooyoung,” you cry. “You— feels so good. So deep, Woo, how are you so fucking deep?”

“I know,” he says. His hand moves from your hip to your tummy, pressing down, running across the expanse of your skin. “I’m in here,” he grunts. The pressure of his hands increases, pressing down right where his dick is stuffed all the way inside you and pressing against your spot. “Do you feel it?”

You nod, whimpering, and he groans, a sharp, strangled sound from the back of his throat. “Tell me you feel it,” he says, and fuck his voice sounds so raw, so affected, the way you sound when you’re all fucked out and begging him for release. “Please, baby, tell me.”

“I feel it,” you say. “Woo, I feel it. You’re so deep inside me, you’re so big, it hurts.”

He pushes down a little harder, making you sob, then his hand moves back to its place on your hip, holding onto the skin, fingers digging into it again.

“More,” you breathe, voice barely a whisper, need and desperation evident in the tone. “Woo, please. Need more.”

“Fuck.”

He can’t ever say no to you—you both know that. He could be at the very edge of what he can do, at the very edge of collapse, and if you looked up at him with those wide, loving, fucked our eyes and begged him for more, he’d give it to you.

And like this—with your pussy crying for him, tensing and spasming around his shaft, sucking him in, your body begging for him without words—he’s pretty much a dead man walking.

He can’t fucking take this. He doesn’t remember you ever being so tight and warm and wet. He knows you have been—you always are—it must just be the days, weeks even that he’s gone without having you like this, the compounded need and relief of finally having your cunt wrapped around his cock.

He’s going to break. He knows it. But he hasn’t given you nearly as much as he intends to yet.

His head dips, the pressure of his hands on your hips increasing, like he’s struggling to hold himself up now. His hair is sticking to his forehead, breathing laboured, whimpers getting louder and hotter and more guttural. His thrusts are speeding up too, getting harder, but the precision and control of them is slipping; the more he fucks you, the tighter he clings to you, the sloppier and messier his movements inside you get.

Your legs wrap around his waist, feet interlocking with each other against the small of his back, locking you in place. You push your hips up, pressing yourself closer to him, pulling him in deeper; your hands reach out to grab his shirt, curling the material around your fists then moving up to hold onto his shoulders, then his neck, then a fistful of his hair in one of your hands while the other grips his forearm. A harder thrust, sharper, makes you squeal, head thrown back, your face wet and flushed and blotchy with tears.

Wooyoung looks up, finally, meeting your eyes, and the sight of your face, so dumb and desperate and high on what he's giving you, makes his dick pulse inside you, legs almost giving out just from the sight of you. His dick is so fucking sensitive now, strangled by your cunt, hardly able to move in and out of you but unable to do anything but go harder and faster and messier. He’s fairly certain you’ve creamed already, probably more than once; he’s felt your cunt spasming around him, heard your cries grow sharper then settle back into softer whines and sobs, and he feels the stickiness leaking out of your hole around his cock. He wants to cum too, so fucking badly, but he can’t—

Fuck. Fuck. The image hits him like a vision, a spiritual experience, something solid against his chest. The way you’re clinging to him. He knows he’s not going to pull out, won’t be able to, he rarely does with you; knows that when he cums, when he finally allows himself to break, it will be with his dick pressed up against your g-spot, the cum filling up the deepest parts of you. He wishes he could cum directly into your womb; he’s said that to you before, and when you’re stuffed full of him and begging him to fill you up, you have on a few occasions cried for him to stuff your womb with cum. To get you pregnant.

He wants to do that now. He wants it so bad he could cry; wants it so bad it’s all he can think about. And with the way you’re squeezing him, milking his cock with your cunt, it seems like you want it too. Your body wants it, at least.

“Baby,” he hisses. “I…”

He leans down, closer to you now, face inches from yours, close enough to see the tiny details of his face and feel his breath against your skin. You grab a handful of his hair, gentle but desperate, and pull him closer to you. Your breaths are short and shallow, words whispered, like a prayer meant only for him. “You what?” You breathe.

He grunts, chewing on his lip, hips bucking just at the thought. “I want to get you pregnant,” he hisses, voice cracking on the final syllable and slipping into something more like a whimper. “Please, baby. Let me…”

You cunt clenches at that, at the image; your hips buck upwards and you pull his head down further, closer, until his lips are on yours. He freezes, just for a moment, then melts into it, tongue pushing past your lips and into your mouth, hands cupping your face with the same pressure and fervour they’d had on your hips. The kiss is wet, rushed, messy; loving and hungry at the same time. He groans into your mouth, his hips bucking, skin slapping against yours, then pulls away. “Tell me I can,” he says. “Tell me I can knock you up. I need to knock you up.”

“Knock me up, Wooyoung,” you say. He rewards you with another, sharper thrust that nearly makes your vision white out. “Please. Put a baby in me. Need a baby in my tummy, Woo, need to be all swollen with it.”

“Shit,” he grits out. His hands are on your shoulders now, pushing them down and pinning you against the bed. His eyes are wild now—crazed. “You need it,” he says. “Fuck, baby, you need it, right?”

“Need it,” you repeat. “I need your baby, Woo, it’d be so cute, right? We’d have such a cute baby.”

“Fuck, don’t talk like that.” Wooyoung feels lightheaded, his entire body buzzing with need, toes curling into the sheets. He slows down just enough to think a little clearer, thrusts lazier while he strings his words together. “Baby, put your legs up. I wanna— I wanna press it all the way in. Need to press my cum all the way inside, right in your little womb, okay?”

He stops fucking you for a moment, still stuffed inside, then adjusts. He sits himself up, straightening up from where he was leaning over your; his hands grip your legs, still wrapped around his waist, keeping them there as he moves. Then he pushes your legs forwards, gently, so your knees are pushed towards your face, legs spread, calves pressed against your thighs and your thighs pushed back until—

“Yeah,” he grunts. “That’s perfect.”

You know this position; remember how it feels, how it allows him to get so much deeper and stay there, how his cum stays stuffed inside you after he pulls out, your ass raised a little off the bed.

He starts to move again, but he doesn’t ease you into it; can’t, at this point, when you’re spread out so invitingly, your pussy pulsing around him at the realisation of the position he’s put you in, your entire body so vulgarly displayed beneath him, at his mercy, a present only he gets to unwrap. Soon enough, he’s slipped again, the thrusts sloppier, messier, the control he’d managed to cling to for all of a second, just long enough to adjust you the way he wanted you, now evaporated. His hands find your waist now, holding you tight whilst he slams himself into your spot over and over like he’s chasing something.

His moans are soft, breathy, whiny, getting louder as he gets closer and closer to the edge. He can’t stop thinking about it, picturing it; you, knocked up, carrying his child, looking so perfect and pretty and used. His cum in your cunt—fuck, if he could keep his cum inside you every fucking day he would. He’d fuck you every morning before he goes out, unload inside you, slide your pretty panties over your pussy to catch any seed that tries to escape. If it starts to leak he’d make you push it back inside, or gather it on his finger and make you lick it off. Then he’d fuck you again, before bed, hard and rough, until you fall asleep with bruised hips and smarting skin and a belly full of cum.

He’s going to get you pregnant—he doesn’t fucking care anymore. As he pushes towards his orgasm he knows for a fact, no doubt, that he’s going to do it; that he has to do it, or he’s going to shatter. It’s like a compulsion now, a need as much as eating or sleeping or drinking. He needs to get you pregnant and see you pregnant and know your belly is round and swelling because of him.

He doesn’t realise how loud he’s being; doesn’t realise the loud, whiny moans filling the air and drowning out the sound of his skin slapping against yours is him. Fuck. Is he always this fucked out when he’s trying to cum? Is he always this… pathetic?

He doesn’t care. If pathetic is what he is when he fucks you full, when he fills you up, when he feels your perfect cunt squeezing his dick like this, then fuck it, he’s pathetic. He’ll wear that badge with pride if it’s for you.

His orgasm comes quickly when he stops resisting; when he finally allows it to overtake it. He feels it in his entire body, in his fingers, his toes, every inch of him. It starts and doesn’t seem to stop; you feel your tummy filling up, warmth spreading through you, Wooyoung’s hands heavier and grip tighter, his strangled gasps and choked sobs as he keeps fucking you through it, like he’s trying to milk every last drop of himself out and into you. He’s saying something, somewhere between grunting and wailing; words you can’t quite decipher but understand entirely.

You’re going to get pregnant, tonight. He’s not stopping until you do. He’s gonna fill you up over and over and you can’t take anymore; until you’re so full of his cum that he can’t even fit his cock in there.

His hips rock back and forth, pushing the cum in deeper as it comes out.

And then he stills. His grip loosens just a little bit. He slumps slightly, catching himself in time, breathing heavy and laboured. His dick twitches inside you, still hard, but no longer moving.

“Stay still,” he says. His voice is raw, hollow, as though he’d been screaming and screaming and screaming until he lost it. “Keep your legs there. Helps— it helps it to take.”

“Take?” You repeat. You feel dazed.

Wooyoung nods. “My cum. If you keep your legs there it’ll help you get pregnant. Hold them there. Please.”

Fuck, he really… he really wants you pregnant. Like, actually pregnant. You pull him closer to you, pressing your lips together. This time the kiss is gentle, soft, none of the desperation of before but all of the feeling.

Wooyoung is massaging your legs, rubbing the backs of your thighs with enough pressure to feel it in the muscles; trying to keep the blood flow going, to stop you from losing the feeling in your legs with the strenuous position he’s holding you in. “Doing so well,” he murmurs into your mouth. “Always so good, so pretty, gonna be such a good mom. Wanna give you a daughter.”

“Please,” you breathe. “Want it.”

“Good.” He sits back up, pushing the hair out of his face, staring down at you with a small smile.

You know that smile. That’s a smile that says you’re not done—not even close.

“You’re probably pregnant now,” he says. “But we have to be sure. And we’re not stopping until we’re sure.”

You don’t reply. Just watch as his smile widens, as his hands move back to your hips where they’d been before.

“I’m gonna fuck you again,” he says. “I’m gonna breed you over and over, until the cum is spilling out of you. Until you have my baby. Until you’re carrying my seed inside you all day, every day, for nine months. Okay?”

You don’t answer. You don’t need to; he knows you well enough to read your reaction.

And even if he didn’t—your pussy speaks for itself. The way it clenches around him says everything you’re too fucked out to voice.

[rikibabyyy]

Good Morning, Baby.

pairing : softdom!mingi x subfem!reader

warnings : this feels a little rushed sorry!! , mingi loves calling reader baby hehe , morning sex with no plot lmao , head (f receiving) , unprotected sex (don’t) , kissing , fingering , slight choking (not rlly) , biiiig dıck mingi🙏 , cum eating , pls lmk if i missed anything!

a/n : i literally haven’t wrote anything for AGES and i apologise🤭. i’ve had no motivation whatsoever and ive been so stressed with college work/assignments (my teacher pmo) but i’ll defo be trying to write more!! also, reblogs are always greatly appreciated!🩵

You wake up to find your bedroom silent and pitch black, the only light being the soft glow of the moon shining through your blinds.

You thought your sleep schedule had been getting better, but you’d started waking up in the middle of the night again. You’re not sure why.

Actually, you know the exact reason why. It’s because your boyfriend, Song Mingi, is on tour again. He’s thousands and thousands of miles away from you and the comfort of your apartment.

You rub your eyes and sit up in your bed, reaching for your phone on the nightstand. You turn on the screen and see the time reads 3:47am. Below is a thread of notifications from Mingi.

He’s probably telling you to get some sleep or to eat properly - not just instant noodles.

He knows you worry and he knows you get lonely without him. That’s one of the many things you love most about your boyfriend. He notices everything.

Mingi: sleep well beautiful

Mingi: i’ll be home before you know it

Mingi: don’t worry too much

You type out a quick reply before throwing your phone onto the mattress.

Eventually, after what feels like an hour of tossing and turning, you manage to fall asleep again.

————

The next time you’re woken up, it’s by the sun illuminating your bedroom and… a wetness between your legs.

You find yourself trying to wriggle away from the sensitive pressure between your legs, but something is holding you down.

Or someone.

You blink open your sleepy eyes and look down to find your boyfriend’s head between your thighs. His arms are wrapped around your thighs, keeping you pinned down. That explains why you couldn’t move.

You arch your back off the bed and reach down, letting your fingers card through his annoyingly perfect hair.

You see the moment he realises you’re awake when he lifts his head, revealing his shiny lips and chin. “Good morning, baby.” he smirks up at you.

You can’t help but giggle as he dives back in, sucking your already-sensitive clit into his mouth. You whine in response, tugging at his hair and rolling your hips upwards.

He wastes no time pushing two fingers inside of you, pumping them slowly as he effortlessly reaches all the right spots.

“Mingi…” you moan his name, somehow already close to the edge.

He doesn’t respond. He just quickens his movements. His tongue flicks over your clit faster and his fingers push further inside of you, curling at just the right angle. Your legs tremble as you warn him you’re about to come.

“M- ahh… Mingi, I’m close…” you whimper seconds before your release coats his fingers.

He pulls his fingers out of you slowly and brings them to his mouth, licking them clean while holding your gaze.

He releases your thighs and moves quickly, hovering over you. He buries his face in your neck and inhales deeply. “Good girl.”

“You couldn’t wait until later?” you chuckle (although you aren’t complaining) and wrap your legs around his waist.

“And miss out on waking you up in the best way possible? Absolutely not.” he groans as he begins kissing and nipping at your neck. One of his hands grips your hip tightly and the other rests beside your head, careful not to put all of his weight on you.

He leaves a trail of kisses from just below your ear all the way down to your collarbone. You didn’t even notice he had shifted his weight to unbuckle his belt and pull down his jeans just enough to free his hard length.

Saying Mingi is big is an understatement. He’s huge. Not just length, but girth, too. You’ll never get over how good the stretch feels when he pushes inside of you.

“Tell me you missed me, baby.” he whispers hoarsely against your neck as he lines himself up with your entrance. But he doesn’t wait for you to respond.

You open your mouth to speak but he’s already pushing inside of you. He groans against your neck and mutters something that sounds like a mix of your name and “fuck”.

You cry out embarrassingly loud and your nails dig into his shoulders through the thin fabric of his shirt (which he didn’t bother to remove).

He groans again and removes his hand from your hip, bringing it up to wrap around your throat instead. He squeezes, but not enough to cut off your breathing, just enough to show he’s in control. But damn you already knew that.

He bottoms out and he’s already panting into the crook of your neck. “Fuck, baby… needed you so bad.”

Then he’s moving. Thrusting deep and agonisingly slow. One hundred percent on purpose.

“Mingi…” you breathe, although you’re not even sure why.

“Use your words, love. Tell me what you want.” he smirks before lifting his head to capture your lips in a slow but hungry kiss. His fingers tighten around your neck for a moment, urging you to speak.

“More…” you manage to say.

“More?” he chuckles low in his throat. “Greedy little thing.”

He listens, though. With practiced ease, he quickens his pace and shifts ever so slightly to angle himself deeper inside of you.

When your walls begin clenching around him, you know you’re not going to last much longer. He’s kissing you when you squeeze his cock and he lets out this delicious, deep groan straight into your mouth. You swallow it, your tongue pushing into his mouth before mingling with his.

He lowers his head again and pushes his face into the crook of your neck. His thrusts are messy and ragged now as he gets closer to the edge.

He removes his hand from your throat and reaches between your bodies to rub fast, tight circles on your clit.

“Ahh… I’m close.” you manage to whisper.

“Let go, baby. Come for me.” he encourages, thrusting faster.

Your pussy clamp around him as you come which leaves him following seconds later. He basically collapses on top of you as his hot ropes of come fill you up. He’s a panting, groaning, sweaty mess when he lifts his head from your neck for the final time.

“Hey,” he smirks down at you. “Miss me?”

————

taglist : @binsown @testingspider @yoruse @tsumiyaa

lmk if you wanna be added!!

[kyberinthevoid]

I hate that “chat” now makes people think of chatgpt. no. I’m asking my imaginary greek chorus twitch audience.

[w00yngie]

heartbreak anniversary

pairing: jung wooyoung x fem!reader

genre: angst, hurt w/comfort (i'm not a monster cmon), established relationship, nonidol!au

word count: 10.7k

warnings: no use of y/n, mentions of alcohol, miscommunication (again!), possessive!wooyo, soft dom!wooyo, also whiny wooyo, pronebone!!!!!, praise kink, make up sex, unprotected sex (wrap before you tap!), p in v, mating press (kinda), multiple o's, fingering, oral, felching, breath play, spit play/spit as a means for lube, creampie, cockwarming, slight choking (?), mutual masturbation, body worship, breeding kink (mentioned like once tbh), a little bit of edging, emotional sex (he cries, her kitty did too), overstimulation / lmk if i missed any!

───── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───── author's note: based on this request! i lowkey went overboard and got carried away with the makeup sex but who's going to complaing if their steak is too juicy and the lobster too buttery, yk? :p i hope you enjoy this my love @moilele <333

permanent taglist: @norixseaweed @f3mboienjoyer @liightlizard @minguxxs @mourninglizzy + if you want to be added to my taglist, let me know :))

The key turns in the lock at 1:47 AM. You’ve been staring at the clock for so long the numbers have burned into your vision, following you even when you close your eyes. The candlelight dinner you prepared hours ago has congealed on the table, the wax from the candles having melted into sad, misshapen puddles.

When Wooyoung stumbles through the door, the smell hits you first—sharp, medicinal, unmistakably alcohol—before you even see his face. He’s loosening his tie with one hand, the other gripping the doorframe for balance. He tries to toe off his shoes and only manages to get one halfway off before giving up. He lets the other one fall with a thud, then drops his battered work bag into the hallway, not caring if it blocks the door or if either of you end up tripping over it later.

“Hey,” he mumbles, not quite meeting your eyes. “What are you doing still awake?”

You don’t answer immediately. You just watch him, this man who hasn’t texted you in nine hours, who left you sitting here with a heart that sank deeper into your chest with each passing minute. The silence stretches between you, taut as a wire.

“You didn’t answer your phone,” you finally say. Your voice comes out steadier than you expected, a calm that doesn’t match the storm inside.

Wooyoung blinks, processing your words through the alcohol fog. “Sorry, we were out at the bar. The project…” He waves his hand vaguely. “It went really well. Everyone was—”

“Celebrating,” you finish for him. Your eyes drift to the table behind you, the two plates still set with the meal you spent three hours preparing. The anniversary cake you ordered sits untouched in its box, the words “One Year” now barely visible through the condensation that’s gathered on the lid.

It hits you then, with a clarity that makes your stomach drop. He doesn’t remember.

“Look, I know I’m sorry that I’m late again,” Wooyoung says, finally noticing your expression. “Things got crazy at the office. You know babe, the promotion, it’s—”

“Do you know what day it is?” you ask quietly.

He frowns, clearly trying to think through his drunken haze. “Uhh Tuesday?”

The silence that follows is deafening. You watch the realization slowly dawn on his face, the way his eyes widen slightly, the way his mouth opens then closes without sound.

“Shit,” he whispers. “Oh fuck…”

“You forgot our anniversary.” It’s not a question.

“I didn’t—”Wooyoung runs a hand through his hair, his movements still uncoordinated. “The project deadline was today. We’ve been working toward this for weeks, you know that. And then everyone wanted to go out, and I couldn’t just—”

“Couldn’t just text me? Couldn’t just call to say you’d be late?” Your voice rises slightly, despite your efforts to keep it steady. “I sat here for hours, Wooyoung. I thought something happened to you. I called your friends, hell I even called your office phone.”

“I’m fine,” he says, and there’s an edge to his voice now, defensive. “I’m right here. Everything’s fine.”

“Everything is not fine.” You stand up, needing the distance between you. “You’ve been working non-stop for weeks. You come home exhausted, barely speaking to me, and now you can’t even remember our anniversary?”

Wooyoung sighs, the sound heavy with exhaustion and frustration. “I’m doing this for us, you know that—”

“Stop,” you cut him off. “Stop saying that. I’m not asking you to quit your job, Wooyoung. I’m asking you to be present. To remember that I exist when you’re not at work.”

He looks at you then, really looks at you, and for a moment you see the man you fell in love with—the one who used to notice when you changed your hair, who used to call just to hear your voice. But then his expression hardens again.

“You don’t understand the pressure I’m under,” he says, his voice tight. “This isn’t just about me. It’s about our future.”

“Our future?” You let out a humourless laugh. “What fucking future? I barely see you anymore. When was the last time we had an actual conversation that wasn’t about how tired you are?”

“I’m trying to build something for us.”

“No, you’re building something for yourself and calling it ‘us’ to make yourself feel better.” The words spill out before you can stop them, raw and honest in a way that makes your chest ache. “I feel like you only love me when it’s convenient for you. When you have the time and energy.”

Wooyoung’s face darkens. “That’s not fair.”

“Isn’t it?” You step closer, needing him to see, to understand. “When was the last time you asked how I was doing? When was the last time you noticed anything about my life that wasn’t directly related to yours?”

“I’m under a lot of stress right now, baby.”

“We’re all under stress, Wooyoung. That’s not an excuse to disappear on your girlfriend.”

The room falls silent. Wooyoung’s shoulders are tense, his jaw clenched. You can see the exhaustion etched into every line of his face, the dark circles under his eyes that have been there for weeks. Part of you wants to reach out, to comfort him, but the hurt is too fresh, too deep.

“I’m doing my best,” he says finally, his voice quieter now. “I’m trying to balance everything.”

“Your best isn’t good enough.” The words hang in the air between you, sharp and painful. “Not when your best means I spend our anniversary wondering if you’re lying dead in a ditch somewhere because you couldn’t be bothered to send a text.”

Wooyoung flinches. “That’s not—”

“Do you have any idea what it’s like?” Your voice breaks. “To sit here, watching the clock, imagining all the worst possible scenarios because the man I love can’t remember I exist?”

“I do remember you exist,” he says, and there’s frustration in his voice now. “I think about you all the time. I’m doing all of this for you.”

“For me?” You laugh, the sound hollow. “This isn’t for me, Wooyoung. I never asked for any of this. I asked for you. Not this stressed-out stranger who comes home at midnight and falls asleep on the couch.”

He’s silent for a long moment, and you can see him struggling, the alcohol and exhaustion making it hard for him to find the right words. When he finally speaks, his voice is strained.

“Maybe this is the real me,” he says. “Maybe this is who I am now and you just don’t like what you see.”

The words hit you like a physical blow. You take a step back, your breath catching in your throat. You shake your head, denying the words that came out of his mouth.

“That’s not true,” you whisper.

“Isn’t it?” Wooyoung’s voice rises, matching your earlier statement, fuelled by frustration and alcohol. “Because it seems like nothing I do is ever good enough for you. I’m either working too much or not making enough money or not paying enough attention—”

“I’ve never said that.”

“You don’t have to say it. I can see it in your face every time I come home late. Every time I’m too tired to talk.” He runs his hand through his hair again, the gesture agitated. “Maybe you should just find someone who can give you what you want, since apparently I can’t.”

The silence that follows is absolute. You stare at him, unable to believe the words that just came out of his mouth. Wooyoung looks just as shocked as you feel, his eyes widening as he realizes what he’s said.

“Wait… shit no that’s not what I meant…” he starts, but you cut him off.

“You want me to leave?” Your voice is barely audible.

“No, I didn’t mean…“ Wooyoung takes a step toward you, but you back away. “I’m sorry, I’m drunk and exhausted and I didn’t—”

“You meant it,” you say. There’s no anger in your voice now, just a deep, bone-weary sadness. “Maybe not all of it, but part of it.”

He doesn’t deny it. The silence stretches between you, filled with everything that’s been left unsaid for weeks.

“I need to be alone,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. The words hang between you, a barrier neither of you has the strength to cross. “I can’t do this right now.”

Wooyoung opens his mouth to respond, but you’re already moving, already turning away from the wreckage of your anniversary night. You don’t look back as you walk down the hallway to your bedroom—the bedroom that was supposed to be shared, not a place of retreat. The door clicks shut behind you with a finality that makes your chest ache.

In the darkness of your room, you press your back against the door and slide down until you’re sitting on the floor. Your shoulders shake with silent sobs you refuse to let him hear. The anniversary card you’d written him earlier sits on your nightstand, the words inside now feeling hollow and foolish.

Time passes. You don’t know how long you sit there, but eventually, you stand on trembling legs and change into your sleep clothes. The bed feels too big, too empty. You lie on your side, staring at the empty space where Wooyoung should be, and wait for sleep that doesn’t come. An hour passes. Maybe two. Your anger has cooled to a dull ache in your chest, but sleep still eludes you. Finally, you slip out of bed, needing water, needing to move.

The living room is dark except for the faint glow of the streetlights filtering through the blinds. And there he is—Wooyoung, slumped on the couch, still in his work clothes, one arm thrown over his eyes. Even in the dim light, you can see the tear tracks on his face, the dark stain on the cushion beneath his cheek.

Your heart constricts. Despite everything—despite the anger, despite the hurt—you still love him. You still care.

You move silently to the kitchen, filling a glass with water and grabbing the bottle of aspirin from the cabinet. Your movements are careful, deliberate, as you place them on the coffee table beside him. You don’t wake him. You don’t say a word.

Instead, you stand there for a moment, watching the rise and fall of his chest. Even in sleep, his face is troubled, his brow furrowed. You want to smooth the lines away, to tell him everything will be okay. But you can’t. Not yet.

So you do the only thing you can. You take care of him, silently, the way you’ve always done. Because even when he forgets, even when he’s lost in his own world of stress and ambition, you remember. You remember the man you fell in love with, the one who’s still in there somewhere, buried under exhaustion and pressure.

You pull the throw blanket from the back of the couch and drape it carefully over him. Your fingers brush against his hair, just once, so lightly he doesn’t stir. Then you turn and walk away, back to the bedroom that feels emptier than it should. You climb into bed alone, the space beside you cold and untouched. You wonder if this is how relationships begin to break—not through lack of love, but through all the ways people fail to hold onto each other when life becomes too heavy. Sleep comes eventually, but it’s fitful, troubled by dreams of a future that feels increasingly uncertain.

══════════════════ Wooyoung wakes slowly to the dull throb of a splitting headache and a sharp ache running down his neck. The couch digs painfully into his back, one arm numb from the awkward angle he’d fallen asleep in. For a few disoriented seconds, he just stares at the ceiling, blinking against the pale morning light filtering through the apartment. Then last night hits him all at once. The argument. Your tears. The look on your face when he realized what day it was.

With a quiet groan, he pushes himself upright, rubbing a hand over his face. That’s when he notices the blanket draped carefully over him. The glass of water sitting on the coffee table beside two aspirin. His chest tightens. You took care of him anyway. Even after everything.

Wooyoung stares at the medicine for a long moment before letting out a weak, humourless laugh under his breath. “Fuck,” he mutters hoarsely, guilt crawling up his throat. 

He swallows the aspirin dry before forcing himself to stand, exhaustion still heavy in his limbs. The apartment is quiet as he makes his way toward the bedroom, each step slower than the last, like he’s afraid of what he’ll find on the other side of the door. He eases it open carefully. You’re asleep, curled toward his side of the bed even though it stayed empty all night. In the soft morning light, he notices the tear tracks dried against your cheeks immediately, and something inside him caves in at the sight. His own eyes still burn from last night, raw and swollen in a way he knows mirrors yours. For a moment, he just stands there in silence, looking at you. At the woman who still tucked a blanket around him after he forgot about your anniversary. After he hurt you. Wooyoung closes his eyes briefly, jaw tightening.

He closes the door to your shared bedroom and makes his way to the kitchen. He quietly reaches for his phone and silences the alarm for work before typing out a lengthy message to his boss with determined fingers. Nothing at work feels more important than this anymore.

He had to fix this.

══════════════════

Your eyes open to the empty space beside you, the pillow still perfectly fluffed, untouched. Of course he’s already gone. The realization settles in your chest like a stone. You lie there for a moment, the events of last night crashing back with brutal clarity. The forgotten anniversary. The heartbreak that ensued. The fight. The words that can’t be unsaid. You press the heels of your hands against your eyes, forcing the tears to remain at bay.

Then you hear it—the soft clink of dishes from the kitchen.

Your heart stutters. You freeze, listening. There it is again—the unmistakable sound of someone moving around in the kitchen. The one that should be empty right now. Panic rises in your throat. He’s still here. Wooyoung is still here, and you have no idea what to say to him after everything that happened. After everything you both said.

You sit up slowly, your body heavy with emotional exhaustion. The floor is cold beneath your feet as you pad toward the bedroom door. Your hand hesitates on the doorknob. What will you see when you open it? Will he be packing his things? Will he be waiting to tell you it’s over?

The door creaks as you pull it open. The hallway seems longer than usual as you make your way toward the kitchen. With each step, your anxiety grows, a tight knot in your chest that makes it hard to breathe.

And then you see him.

Wooyoung stands at the counter, his back to you. He’s still wearing the same clothes from last night, rumpled and wrinkled. His hair is a mess, sticking up at odd angles. He moves slowly, methodically, as if each action requires immense concentration.

“Aren’t you going to work?” The words slip out before you can stop them, your voice hoarse from crying.

Wooyoung turns, and the sight of him makes your breath catch. His eyes are bloodshot, his face pale. He looks like he hasn’t slept at all, like he’s been carrying the weight of your argument with him through the long night.

“I told them I wasn’t coming in today or for the rest of the week,” he says simply.

The words hang in the air between you. You stare at him, trying to process what this means. Wooyoung never calls in. He’s the type who goes to work with a fever of 102, who works through weekends and holidays without complaint.

“What? Why?” you ask, the question barely audible.

Wooyoung sets down the cup he’s been holding. His knuckles turned white as he gripped onto the glass tighter. “I already lost enough time with you yesterday. I’m not about to just leave you here alone, again.”

The simplicity of his words hits you like a physical blow. You lean against the doorframe, suddenly weak. The kitchen table is set—two plates, two mugs, the breakfast you used to make together on weekend mornings. The silence that follows is thick with everything left unsaid. You watch as he turns back to the counter, his shoulders slumped with exhaustion. There’s a vulnerability in his posture you haven’t seen in months—the confident, ambitious man you’ve been watching slip away replaced by someone unsure, someone hurting.

“I’m sorry,” he says finally, still facing away from you. “For everything I said last night. For making you feel like you don’t matter to me.” He turns to face you, and the raw emotion in his eyes makes your chest ache. “You matter more than anything, and I’ve been acting like you don’t.” You want to go to him, to bridge the distance between you, but your feet feel rooted to the spot. “And the rest?” you ask. “What you said about me finding someone else?”

Wooyoung’s face crumples. “I didn’t mean any of that stupid shit. I was an idiot and said the most hurtful thing I could think of because I was angry at myself, not at you. What I said to you was inexcusable.” He runs a hand through his hair, the gesture agitated. “I was so terrified of failing you that I ended up failing you anyway.”

The truth of his words settles over you. You step into the kitchen, moving toward him slowly, giving him the chance to retreat if he wants to. He doesn’t. “I don’t want someone else,” you say quietly. “I want you. Not the version of you that’s so caught up in work he forgets we exist. That I exist.”

Wooyoung’s eyes filled with tears. “I’ve been so focused on building a future for us that I forgot to be present in our now.” He takes a step toward you. “I’m so sorry. I don’t expect you to forgive me right away or ever but—God, I fucked up so bad.”

You look at the breakfast he’s prepared—eggs perfectly set, toast golden, the smell of coffee already doing something to the tension in your shoulders. He’s always been a better cook than you. You’d forgotten that, somehow, in the wreckage of last night.

“Come here,” you say softly.

He crosses the kitchen in three quick strides, and then his arms are around you, holding you so tightly it’s almost painful. You can feel him trembling, feel the way his heart hammers against your cheek. Your face tucks just under his chin, and you feel the warm wetness of tears landing soft in your hair.

“I love you,” he whispers, the words muffled against your hair. “I love you so much, and I’m so sorry I made you doubt that.” You hold him just as tightly, your own tears spilling over. “I love you too,” you mumble against his chest. “Don’t shut me out like that again, You know I’m always here for you.”

Wooyoung pulls back, his hands coming up to cradle your face. His thumbs brush away your tears with a gentleness that makes your heart ache. “I know,” he says. “I’ll do better for you. For us. Today, tomorrow, and however long as it takes.”

He leans forward and presses his forehead against yours. “Can I show you something?” You nod. “I got you something,” he says. “I remembered that I had a whole elaborate plan to give this to you.” He exhales, something between a laugh and a sob. “Then I got the promotion news and I just—I let that take over everything. Your gift has been sitting in my bag for two weeks while I was out celebrating myself.” He shakes his head. “I made our anniversary about me. I’m such an idiot.” “Yeah, the biggest idiot of all time.” He lets out a small chuckle, a hint of guilt and sadness follow the hollow laugh. A flicker of something hopeful crosses his exhausted face. “Can I still give it to you?” You look up at him. “Of course.”

Wooyoung’s face lights up with a small, tentative smile. He takes your hand and leads you to the living room. You both sink into the couch where he spent the night, your shoulders touching. His work bag sits on the floor beside it. He reaches down and pulls out a small velvet box.

Your breath catches.

“It’s not what you think,” he says quickly, seeing your expression. “Not yet, anyway.” He opens the box to reveal a delicate silver bracelet, with a small charm hanging from it—a tiny compass.

“It’s so you always find your way back to me,” he explains, his voice soft. “Even when I’m being a complete dumbass.” You look from the bracelet to his face, seeing the hope and fear mingled in his eyes. This is what you fell in love with—not the ambitious, driven man who works too much, but this man who’s vulnerable enough to admit when he’s wrong, who’s brave enough to try to fix what he’s broken.

“It’s beautiful,” you say, holding out your wrist.

As Wooyoung fastens the bracelet with trembling fingers, you realize that healing won’t happen overnight. There will be more conversations, more difficult moments as you both learn to balance his career with your relationship. But as his hand finds yours, the bracelet cool against your skin, you know you’re willing to try.

Because some things are worth fighting for. Some people are worth the struggle. And this man—flawed and imperfect but trying, always trying—is one of them.

“I should have called,” he says finally, his voice quiet in the morning stillness. “I should have texted. I kept thinking about it, but then someone would pull me into another conversation, and I’d get distracted, and then...” He trails off, shaking his head. “That’s no excuse.”

“No, it’s not,” you agree, but there’s no anger in your voice now. Just bone-deep weariness.

Wooyoung’s shoulders slump. He looks smaller somehow, diminished by his own guilt. “I’ve been so focused on proving myself at work that I forgot to be present here. With you.” His eyes find yours, red-rimmed and sincere. “I’m drowning, and instead of asking for help, I’ve been pulling you under with me.”

Your chest tightens at his words. You’ve been so wrapped up in your own hurt that you haven’t fully considered his perspective. “Why didn’t you tell me you were struggling?” you ask softly.

He lets out a shaky breath. “Because I was supposed to be the strong one. The one who had it all figured out.” His voice cracks. “I didn’t want you to see how overwhelmed I was. How scared I am that I won’t be enough.”

The admission hangs in the air between you. You reach for his hand, your fingers hesitantly brushing against his. He turns his palm up, letting you take it.

“I’m sorry too,” you say, your voice barely above a whisper. “For being so accusatory last night. For making you doubt that your best wasn’t enough. And for dismissing the fact that you work so immensely hard to provide for us.”

Wooyoung looks up, surprise evident in his eyes.

“I was angry,” you continue, “but I was also terrified. Every time you came home late without calling, I imagined the worst. And then I’d feel so stupid when you finally texted, like I was being dramatic or clingy.”

“You’re not,” he says firmly. “You were right to be worried. I’ve been a completely inconsiderate asshole.”

You squeeze his hand. “And I said things I didn’t mean. About you not loving me.” The words are hard to say, hard to admit. “I know that’s not true. I just... I missed you. I missed us.”

A tear slips down Wooyoung’s cheek. “I’ve missed us too,” he admits. “I’ve been so caught up in work that I forgot how to be a person. How to be your person.”

You shift closer to him on the couch, the gap between you narrowing. Your free hand reaches up to brush away his tear, your touch tentative, questioning. He leans into it, his eyes closing briefly.

“I’m going to do better,” he promises. “I’ve already talked to my boss about setting better boundaries. About leaving work at a reasonable hour, about not checking emails at home.” He opens his eyes, looking at you with such intensity it makes your breath catch. “You deserve more than the scraps of time and attention I’ve been giving you.”

“What if you can’t?” you ask, voicing the fear that’s been haunting you. “What if work pulls you back in?”

Wooyoung’s expression turns determined. “Then I’ll walk away. Find something else. Because nothing is worth losing you over.” He brings your joined hands to his lips, pressing a kiss to your knuckles. “Nothing.”

Your vision blurs with fresh tears. “I don’t want you to give up your career for me.”

“I’m not,” he assures you. “I’m choosing our relationship. Choosing you. The career is just a job. I can be replaced at any given moment but you? You’re my whole life. You’re irreplaceable.”

The words wash over you, healing some of the hurt that’s been festering. You move closer still, until your knees are touching, until you can feel the warmth of him beside you.

“I love you,” you say simply. “Even when you’re being an idiot and forgetting our anniversary.”

A watery laugh escapes him. “I love you too. I’m your idiot, though.”

Your hand finds its way to his face, cupping his cheek. His stubble is rough against your palm, grounding you in this moment. He turns his head slightly, pressing a kiss to your palm, his eyes never leaving yours.

“Can I kiss you?” he asks, his voice raw with emotion.

You nod, unable to form words around the lump in your throat.

Wooyoung leans forward slowly, giving you time to pull away if you want to. You don’t. When his lips meet yours, it’s like coming home after a long journey. There’s relief in the touch, and longing, and a deep, abiding affection that transcends the hurt of the past weeks.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers against your lips. “I’m so sorry.”

His kisses move to your cheek, to the corner of your eye where tears still linger. “I’ll do better,” he murmurs, his breath warm against your skin.

You tilt your head, giving him access to your neck, where he presses soft, apologetic kisses. “I know you will,” you whisper, your fingers tangling in his hair. 

Wooyoung pulls back just enough to look at you, his eyes searching yours. “I don’t deserve you,” he says. “But I’m going to spend every day trying to be worthy of you.”

You shake your head. “You already are. You just got lost for a while.”

He pulls you into his arms, holding you against his chest. You can hear his heartbeat, steady and strong beneath your ear. His hand strokes your hair, gentle and soothing.

“I was so scared,” you admit, the words muffled against his shirt. “That we were falling apart, and I didn’t know how to stop it.”

His arms tighten around you. “We’re not falling apart,” he promises. “We’re just... learning how to be together in a new way. With new challenges.”

You look up at him, seeing the determination in his eyes. “Together,” you repeat. “That’s the important part.”

Wooyoung nods, pressing another kiss to your forehead. “Together. Always.”

The breakfast he made sits forgotten on the table, growing cold. But you don’t mind. There will be other breakfasts, other mornings. Right now, all that matters is this—the two of you, holding onto each other, finding your way back to what matters most.

“I think,” Wooyoung says after a while, his voice soft with sleepiness and emotion, “that since i took a few days off we could spend more time together. Just us. No work, no distractions.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You? Taking time off? Who are you and what have you done with my workaholic boyfriend?”

He laughs, the sound warming you from the inside out. “I’ve been replaced by someone with better priorities.” His expression turns serious. “I mean it, though. We need this. I need this. To remember that I have a lot of making up to do.”

The idea is tempting. “And how would you do that, hm?”

“I could think of one way right now,” he murmurs, his voice dropping to a low, intimate timbre that sends a shiver down your spine.

Before you can respond, Wooyoung stands and scoops you into his arms, his movements surprisingly fluid despite his exhaustion. You gasp, instinctively wrapping your arms around his neck as he carries you toward your bedroom—your shared bedroom that’s been missing his presence for far too long.

“Wooyoung,” you breathe, your heart racing as he pushes the door open with his foot. “Put me down! I could’ve walked to the bedroom too, idiot.”

“Sorry princess. I couldn't help myself,” he says, his eyes dark with desire as he lays you gently on the bed.

He climbs onto the bed beside you, his weight making the mattress dip. For a moment, he just looks at you, his expression a mixture of reverence and hunger that makes your breath catch.

“Missed you,” he whispers, his hand coming up to trace the line of your jaw. “So much.”

You reach for him, pulling him down into a kiss that’s deeper than before, more urgent. His lips move against yours with a desperation that speaks volumes about the distance that’s grown between you. You can taste the salt of dried tears on his skin, feel the slight tremble in his hands as they slide down to your waist.

You fist your hands in the crisp fabric of his shirt. The buttons press sharp and insistent against your chest, and you tug at them, desperate, fumbling until the first one gives. He groans, shifting so he can help, pulling away just enough to make quick work of the rest. The shirt falls open, exposing him to the morning light, the edges of his collarbone flushed and vulnerable.

Your breath hitches—you’d forgotten, somehow, how beautiful he is like this. His body is lean but not slight, muscle hugging bone and sinew in all the right places. You drag your hand along the inside of his forearm, tracing the thick black lines of the rose inked from his wrist to the curve before his elbow. You glide over the leaves and thorns, half-expecting the tattoo to prickle beneath your touch. He shudders, eyes hooded, drinking in the sight of you devouring him.

You slide your palm up, across his biceps, his shoulder—mapping every inch, reacquainting yourself with the geography of him. His chest heaves, the faint dusting of hair there rising as you scrape your nails down to his abs. You can’t help but smile a little at how his stomach tenses, how he jerks when you reach the sensitive dip above his hips. He grabs your hand, bringing it to his mouth, kissing each knuckle in apology and in thanks. He’s trembling with wanting, with relief, and you want to swallow it whole.

You pull him closer, reaching up to slide the shirt off his shoulders. It pools at his elbows, then falls away, leaving him naked from the waist up. He presses you into the mattress, his lips everywhere at once—your jaw, your neck, the hollow at your collarbone. His hands are greedy, slipping under your shirt, seeking skin, worshipping you as if you’re the only thing in the world that makes sense.

Wooyoung’s fingers curl into the soft cotton of your sleep shirt as though he’s gathering every ounce of courage in his body to peel away not only the fabric but the distance he’s put between you. The morning light filters through gauzy curtains, illuminating the swirl of dust motes in the air and casting a gentle glow over your skin. He pauses, breath catching as he drinks you in—every freckle on your shoulder, every rise and fall of your chest—before tugging the shirt up and over your head in one smooth, practiced motion. The cool air of the room grazes your bare skin, sending a shiver through you as the light catches the gentle pebbling of your nipples and the subtle flex of your stomach muscles.

He chases away the chill, warm palms gliding up your sides, fingertips tracing the lines of your ribs, thumbs circling the soft shadows beneath your breasts as if to reassure himself that you are real—solid and here. “W-Wooyoung,” you breathe out, barely more than a tremor in the air, but it hits him like a bullet: his gaze snaps up, blown wide and hungry, jaw tensing so hard you can see the cords in his neck stand out. “Hmm?” He sounds dazed, already gone for you. He searches your face for a clue, a hint of what you want, even as his hands keep moving—roaming your waist, palming the flare of your hips, stroking reverent up and down your spine. You shudder, skin prickling everywhere he touches. Then, with a slow, deliberate shift, you arch your back and hook your thumbs into the waistband of your underwear—your last layer—and drag them down, inch by inch, teasing yourself as much as him. You kick them off, letting them flutter to the floor, and stretch out on your stomach, arms reaching above your head, pressing your cheek into the pillow. You tilt your hips up, highlighting the bare swell of your ass, lush and expectant, every inch of you primed for him. The effect is instantaneous. He groans, low and feral in the back of his throat, his cock straining visibly against the thin grey of his sweats.

“What are you doing, baby?” he chokes, voice ragged, eyes glued to the sight of you so shamelessly presenting for him. 

You glance back lazily over your shoulder, lips parted, smile hazy and filthy. “Lay on top of me.” Your voice drips with need, teasing, coaxing, as your ass shifts again, the jiggle intentional, sinful.

His adam's apple bobs, eyes glued to the way you’re presenting yourself to him, pussy glistening and waiting. He sits frozen for a second, maybe trying to get his breath back, maybe just marvelling at how good you look, spread out and waiting.

“Bet."

Then he’s on you, crawling up the bed with a focused intent that sends another thrill through you. “Up,” he murmurs, tapping your hip. You lift obediently and he slides a pillow beneath you, angling your hips up off the mattress before he kneels behind you, pushes your thighs apart with strong hands, trapping your legs beneath his as he blankets your body. His heat, heavy and suffocating in the best way, seeps into your skin. Your cheek sinks into the sheets; you can smell your own slick in the air, feel the pulse of anticipation between your thighs. He leans in, lips skimming up your spine, worshipping every vertebrae, every goosebump and dimple, before he settles his weight against your back, pinning you down and making you feel tiny beneath him. You can’t help it: you reach back, grab at the waistband of his slacks, desperate to feel more of him. Your fingers brush the rigid outline of his cock and he shudders, hips jerking, the tip already wetting a dark stain into the fabric. He lets you tug down his pants, lifting his hips just enough to help you get them over his ass, down his thighs, clumsy and urgent. As soon as they’re off, he kicks them away, a brief chill racing up your legs before he covers you again, hotter and needier than before. You’re both trembling—maybe from nerves, maybe from how badly you need each other. 

“Please,” he moans, the word nearly a whimper, as you wrap your hand around the bulge beneath his boxers, feeling him throb in your grip. He’s so hard it almost hurts, and when you pull the waistband down and finally set him free, he gasps, forehead dropping onto your shoulder. His cock springs out, thick and flushed, the head angry red and already leaking.

“Jesus,” you hear yourself say, voice thick with awe. “Someone’s a little eager.” He laughs, shaky, like he’ll fall apart if he doesn’t.

“You have no fucking idea.”

His hand traces your thigh, kneading your flesh, fingers digging in with just enough pressure to bruise. You feel how much he needs you in every trembling touch. He cups your ass, squeezing and spreading, and then lets his hand drift lower, fingers ghosting along your slit. You’re soaked—embarrassingly so—and he groans when he feels it, slicking his fingers through you, teasing your entrance with featherlight touches. Your hips buck back, desperate for more, but he holds you firmly in place, taking his time, savoring the way you writhe under him.

“Are you gonna make me beg?” you pant, rutting against his hand.

He presses a kiss to your shoulder blade, voice thick and broken. “I want to hear you say you need me.”

“You already know I do.” 

“Say it anyway.” His tongue flicks your earlobe, his words vibrating in your chest. “I need you, Wooyoung. Please.” The words tumble out, more desperate than you mean them to, but you don’t care. You want him—need him—so bad it’s physically painful. He lines himself up at your entrance, the heat of his cock a brand against your skin. But he doesn’t push in—not yet. He grinds the tip against your folds, smearing his precum through your wetness, teasing you with shallow thrusts that never quite give you what you want. You sob into the pillow, body arching, entirely at his mercy. “God, look at you,” he whispers. “You’re so perfect. Fuck, I don’t deserve you.” “Yes you do.” The words are a gasp, but you mean them. Even after everything, you want to give him this. You want to give him everything. He’s shaking, whole body vibrating with the effort of holding back, not just rutting into you like an animal. “Is this okay?” he asks, voice so weighted with emotion it almost makes you cry. “Tell me you want this. Tell me you want me.” “I want you,” you say, “I always want you. I want you right now, more than anything.” He lets out a choked breath, as if you’ve released him from a terrible spell. “Fuck, yes.” He buries his face in the curve of your neck, breath hot and ragged. You feel the tip of his cock press against your entrance, stretching you slowly, inch by inch as he slides in. The stretch is sweet, burning, perfect. You moan, the sound loud and raw, echoing off the walls of your shared bedroom. He fills you up, deeper than you remember, and it feels like coming home after a long, cold exile. You clench around him, savouring the drag, the friction, the pulse of his heartbeat through the thickness of his cock. He starts to move, slow at first, drawing out each withdrawal and thrust so you feel every centimetre, every ridge and vein. His hands on your waist are trembling, sometimes gripping too hard and then letting go, as if he’s afraid to hurt you, afraid to let go of this moment. You arch your back, pushing yourself up into him, greedy for more. “Harder,” you urge. “Fuck me harder."

He whimpers, hips stuttering, and then sets a punishing pace, hips snapping forward to drive into you with every ounce of pent up longing he’s been carrying. The mattress creaks, the headboard smacks the wall. He’s so big, so deep, so desperate, and you love it.

“Don’t… fuck– say that shit,” he whines, his voice cracking. “Y’feel so good, so fucking tight.”

You arch back, meeting his thrusts, loving the way he loses control. His need for you is unfiltered, all-consuming, and you drink it like oxygen. He sets a rhythm, fast and merciless, hips slamming into you so hard it feels like a punishment, but you crave it, need it, want him to fuck you so hard you forget the argument and only memorise the feeling of him inside you. The slapping sound of skin on skin is obscene, even over the creaking of the bed and your shared moans, but you don’t care, don’t care if the whole apartment building hears you. Wooyoung is not gentle, not now; he’s desperate, driven by weeks of withheld affection, of loneliness and longing. He covers you, bites your shoulder, fucks you like it’s the last time, every thrust a plea for forgiveness and a pledge of eternity.

He leans more of his weight into you, his hand snaking around to your front, fingers seeking your clit. The first touch is electric—you jerk, stars bursting behind your eyes. He circles your clit with the pad of his finger, fast and hard, no finesse, just pure need to make you cum.

In a cruel twist of fate, his hips slow suddenly—the rhythm of his hips bullying yours breaking. You whimper at the loss, your body clenching around him, so desperate for more. But he pulls out completely, leaving you empty, aching.

“Look at me,” he demands, voice rough with need.

You crane your neck back over your shoulder, cheek still pressed into the sheets, and find him watching you with that dark intensity that makes your breath catch. His cock glistens with your combined wetness, the head swollen and flushed as he drags it slowly up and down your entrance, the angle making you feel every torturous inch of the tease—just enough pressure to feel but not enough to satisfy.

“Please,” you gasp, hips tipping higher. His lips curl into a wicked smile from somewhere above and behind you. “Not yet.” He circles your clit with his slick tip before sliding back down. Your thighs tremble against the pillow he placed under your hips. “Spit,” he commands, reaching his palm around to your mouth.

You obey without hesitation, gathering saliva that he uses to coat himself again, the wet sound obscene in the quiet room. He returns to his maddening teasing, the new slickness making his cock glide effortlessly against your swollen flesh.

“Good fucking girl,” he groans, the words punched out between ragged breaths. “Look at you—taking everything I give you.” You’re beyond words now, reduced to desperate sounds as he continues his exquisite torture. When you can’t stand it anymore, you reach behind your body, guiding him back to where you need him most. He lets you, but only for a moment. With a growl that vibrates through your chest, he pushes your hand away and positions himself again, his eyes locked on to the way your body is so responsive to his. Then he leans down, lips pressing soft and slow into your shoulder, and you feel his breath warm against the curve of your neck “Princess” he whispers, voice cracking open at the edges, his cock still dragging slowly and torturous against your entrance. “You can forgive me right? Shit…You can forgive your Wooyo right?” “Yes,” you gasp, hips rolling back into him helplessly. “Yes, yess—fuck, I f-forgive you… Wooyoung, I need you so bad, please!" Something breaks in his expression—all restraint shattering. He thrusts forward in one powerful motion, burying himself to the hilt with a sound that borders on a sob, hands clutching your hips—his grip bruising but full of desperate love. “God, you feel so good,” he croaks. “I missed this. I missed you. I missed you so fucking much.”

The force of it knocks the wind out of you, the fullness so shocking you can only moan, the sound muffled by the pillow but loud enough for him to hear—maybe for the neighbours to hear too. He doesn’t care. Neither do you. The words degenerate into a string of curses and pleas, all dignity and composure long abandoned. You’re reduced to this: the shudder of your hips, the filthy slickness on your thighs, the way you beg for him with every inch of your body.

He’s lost to it now, rutting into you with a violence born of weeks—months—of wanting, of regret, of all the shit he’s made you both suffer through in his absence. Every motion is a contradiction, a punishment and an apology, as he fucks you harder than he ever has, hips snapping so fast you barely have time to catch your breath between thrusts. His hands are everywhere—gripping your hips, yanking you back onto him, fisting in your hair, ghosting along your ribs and then down to your clit. His fingers rub you with the same desperate rhythm as his cock, no finesse, just pure, animal drive to make you cum first, to make you remember what you are together.

He doesn’t say a word at first, just grunts and breathes your name into your hair like a prayer. But when you look back at him, head turned over your shoulder, you see his face twisted in something rawer than lust. Love. His eyes are wet. He thrusts in, deeper, grinding the head of his cock against the spot inside you that makes your vision white out at the edges.

“God, I missed you,” he whines, the words hitching on the upstroke. “I missed you, princess, I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry—” He laces his apology into every movement, every thrust, trying to convince you with the force of his body how much he means it. “No one else can have you, fuck, never anyone else, not ever, you hear me?” His hips stutter, losing rhythm, and you know he’s close, so close, but he won’t let himself finish until you do.

He snakes his hand around your throat, the gentlest squeeze, just enough to remind you who’s in control. The pressure is perfect; you arch into it, into him, hips rocking back greedily to milk every inch of his cock. He bends over you, mouth against your ear, breath hot and frantic: “Cum for me, princess. Wanna feel you cum all over me.” And you do, splintering apart around him, pleasure ripping through you so hard it borders on pain. You scream, you swear, you claw at the sheets, and he fucks you through it, pace relentless, never slowing, never breaking.

He’s shaking above you, groaning your name, his hand still tangled in your hair as he thrusts a few more desperate times and then comes, deep inside you, with a guttural wail. The heat of his release is almost shocking, the way he fills you leaving no doubt that he’s yours, utterly and absolutely. He stays pressed to you, sweat-slicked and trembling, for long, silent seconds, his cock twitching with aftershocks, his breath turning softer, steadier. You can feel his heart thumping against your back, the wild rhythm slowly synchronizing with yours.

He never lets you go, not even as he softens inside you. He just wraps his arms around your waist, burying his face in your neck. You can’t move, can barely breathe, but the only thing you want is to stay like this forever—his weight, his warmth, his love, every bit of him pressed into you until you forget where you end and he begins. He’s the apology and the forgiveness, the punishment and the reward, and you take every last bit of him, all over again, until neither of you has anything left to give.

You’re both gasping, boneless, ruined, but it’s the best kind of ruined—like you’ve been put back together again, better than you were before. He kisses your neck, soft now, lazy, like he can’t help himself, and when he finally pulls out, both of you whimper at the loss.

You shift, rolling onto your side, facing him. His face is damp—sweat, tears, who even knows—but his eyes are clear and bright as he looks at you. He traces your jaw with a shaking finger. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he breathes, voice hoarse, “and I’m never letting you go, you got that?”

You laugh, delirious, and pull him close, your lips finding his in a kiss that’s slow and deep, the kind that says I forgive you, I want you, I’ll never be done with you. He sighs into it, like he’s waited a lifetime for this, like he’s never tasted anything sweeter.

And then his hand is between your legs again, gentle now, and you realize he’s not done with you yet. Not even close.

But you weren’t done with him either. “Wait,” you mumble against his lips, pulling back just enough to see his eyes. “Let me watch you.”

Wooyoung’s brow furrows, a question forming in his gaze. You slide your hand down his chest, over the damp skin, until your fingers wrap around his still-sensitive cock. He hisses, body tensing at your touch.

“Wanna see you touch yourself,” you clarify, your voice dropping to a husky whisper.

Understanding dawns across his face, followed by a slow, wicked smile that makes your stomach flip. “Yeah?” he asks, already shifting position. “You want to watch me jerk off, baby? Naughty girl.”

You nod, your own hand moving between your legs as you settle back against the pillows. Wooyoung sits up, kneeling between your spread thighs, his eyes never leaving yours as he wraps his hand around his length. He’s already hardening again, his cock responding eagerly to your gaze. You watch, transfixed, as his fingers begin to move, a slow, deliberate stroke from base to tip that makes his breath catch.

“Fuck,” he groans, his head falling back slightly. “Play with yourself too, princess.”

You’re touching yourself now, circling your clit with teasing pressure, your other hand squeezing your breast. The sight of him pleasuring himself while watching you is intoxicating—his muscles flexing, his lips parted, his eyes dark with desire.

“Show me…shit," you urge, your voice barely audible. “Show me what you think about when I’m not around to suck you dry.”

He moans, his pace quickening. “I’m always thinking about you, ” he admits, his voice rough. “About your pretty mouth, your perfect tits, the way you feel when I’m inside you.” His hand moves faster now, his breathing growing ragged. “I think about making you cum—fuck, l-love thinking about watching you fall apart because of me.”

Your fingers move faster, matching his rhythm, the sight of him pleasuring himself pushing you closer to the edge. The room fills with the wet sounds of your mutual pleasure, your soft gasps mingling with his deeper groans.

“I’m c–close,” you pant, your hips rising off the bed. “Baby, I’m so fucking close.”

“Me too,” he gasps, his hand moving furiously over his cock. “God, the way you’re touching yourself—fuck, I can’t—"

“So fucking good… haah—” you whimper. “Cum with me.”

His eyes lock with yours, and you see the same desperation, the same need reflected back at you. Your fingers move faster, your thumb circling your clit with just the right pressure as you watch his hand fly over his length, his body tense with impending release.

“Wooyoung,” you cry out as the first wave hits you, your body arching off the bed.

“Oh god, yes you’re so hot fuuuck,” he groans, his release spurting hot across your stomach as he watches you come undone.

You’re both panting, chests heaving as sweat trickles down your bodies and Wooyoung’s cum glistens wet and hot across your stomach—but even as you come down, the air between you only grows thicker. His eyes linger on your face, hungry and soft all at once, and you know before he says a word that he isn’t finished with you yet. He swipes his thumb through his mess, smearing it across your skin, and then lifts his hand to your lips. “Open,” he murmurs, voice already roughening around the edges, and you open obediently, tongue laving over his skin, savouring the salt and the faint sweetness of him.

He watches you, transfixed, and then the hunger snaps back into focus. With a sudden, fluid motion, he grabs you by the hips and guides you onto your back, landing you with a gasp and a bounce that sends aftershocks through your spent body. For a second you just lie there, limp and loose-limbed, but Wooyoung is on you before you have time to recover—his mouth capturing yours in a kiss that’s all teeth and tongue and desperate, greedy possession. He devours you, biting your lower lip so hard you nearly yelp, but then he’s soothing the sting with a velvet-soft lick, fingers already roaming, cupping your jaw, winding into your hair, squeezing the back of your neck until you’re gasping into his mouth.

“Last one baby,” he rasps, voice vibrating right against your teeth. “Need to breed your pretty pussy one last time.” He’s already sliding down your body, trailing open-mouthed kisses over every inch of skin—your throat, your collarbones, the peak of your tits. He bites down gently on your nipple, then flicks it with his tongue, the sensation sharp and electric and so fucking precise. He lavishes both breasts with attention, sucking bruises in places only he will see, then lets his tongue trace a hot, wet path down your torso.

He stops at your belly, swiping a finger through the sticky mess on your skin. “Look at you,” he says, voice thick with pride and awe, and you feel your cheeks flame even as you spread your legs wider for him. He dips his head, lapping at where his cum has pooled in your navel, and you shiver at the lewdness of it, the way he worships every part of you. When his mouth finally moves lower, you’re already shaking with anticipation, your core clenching tight, desperate for more even though you should be wrung out.

He dives between your thighs, licks a stripe from your entrance all the way up to your clit, and you nearly come off the bed from the shock of it. He laughs, low and dark, and buries his face in your cunt, eating you like a man starved. His tongue is everywhere. Circling your clit, plunging inside you, mixing slick and spit and the faint metallic taste of his own release. You fist your hands in his hair, grinding your hips against his mouth, shameless in the way you beg, “More, more... please, fuck, don’t stop—” and he doesn’t.

He works you with ruthless precision, two fingers thrusting deep while his tongue flicks rapid-fire at your clit. You feel the pressure build, so much faster than before, your legs trembling, your thighs clamping tight around his head. He holds you open, arms braced under your knees, keeping you spread and helpless as he brings you right to the brink and then eases off, just enough to drive you insane. He does it again, and again, pulling you apart, making you plead for it.

“Woo—” you whimper, your voice thin and shaky. “Please, please—”

He lifts his head, lips glistening, and you see the wild satisfaction in his eyes. “You’re so fucking pretty when you beg,” he says, and the praise sends another rush of heat through your veins.

“Please,” you say again, and this time he relents, sucking your clit into his mouth and moaning around it. The vibration hits you like a lightning strike and you come hard, arching your back, crying out his name so loud you know it will echo in your ears for days. He keeps going, licking you through it, not stopping until you’re sobbing with oversensitivity and shoving at his head to make it end.

He crawls up your body, cock already hard again as he rubs it against your thigh, your stomach, the sticky aftermath on your skin. He lines himself up at your entrance, and you’re so wet, so open for him, that he slides in with barely any resistance. The stretch still hurts—just a little—and he winces with you, kissing your cheek, your ear, whispering, “Shh, you can take it. You’re so good for me.”

You rake your nails down his back, desperate to pull him deeper, and he obliges, ramming into you with a force that makes the whole bed frame rattle. This time, he doesn’t pace himself—he fucks you with abandon, every thrust a fierce apology, a vow, a plea for forgiveness. “Pretty cunt was made for me, wasn't it baby?" he growls, the words muffled against your skin, and you believe him, every time.

He shifts your legs, bends you almost in half putting you into a mean mating press, and the new angle has him thrusting right against your g-spot. You claw helplessly at his arms, nails digging crescent moons into his biceps, and he just grins, sweat beading at his hairline, loving every second of your unravelling.

"'M not going to last... I'm g'na cum holy fuck Wooyoung," you moan out, feeling yourself edging closer to your own climax.

You feel him getting close—his rhythm falters, his hips jerk, his breath comes in ragged gasps. He slides a hand between your bodies, thumb circling your clit, determined to take you with him. “Oh fuck—Cum f’me princess, make me proud.” And you do, the orgasm ripping through you so violently that black spots dance at the edge of your vision. You scream, you sob, you babble his name like a prayer, and he follows, spilling inside you with a strangled cry. He shoves in deep, holds you there, and then collapses, pinning you to the mattress with the full weight of his body.

You lie like that for a long, breathless moment, your bodies trembling and tangled, sweat sticking you together, his cock still throbbing inside you as he pants in your ear. For a second you think he’s fallen asleep, but then he props himself up on one elbow and looks down at you, eyes shining, lips parted as if he might start crying all over again.

He rolls you onto your side, still joined, and wraps an arm around your waist, spooning you so tight you can barely move. You reach back and stroke his hair, feeling the way his whole body melts into your touch—the tension draining from his muscles, the way his breath evens out. The world feels impossibly far away, like it’s just the two of you floating in a bed-shaped universe, nothing but heartbeats and skin and the mess you’ve made of each other.

The room falls quiet, your breathing gradually slowing in tandem. Wooyoung’s arm tightens around you, his lips pressing a soft kiss to the nape of your neck. “Don’t move,” he whispers, his voice hoarse from use. “I’ll be right back.”

He pulls out gently, and you whimper at the loss, feeling suddenly empty. But he’s already sliding from the bed, his naked body glistening with sweat as he pads to the bathroom. You hear water running, and then he returns with a warm washcloth in his hand.

“Let's get you cleaned up yeah?” he says, his eyes soft as he kneels beside you.

His touch is reverent as he cleans between your thighs, wiping away the evidence of your passion with gentle, circular motions. The warm cloth feels heavenly against your sensitive skin, and you sigh, your body relaxing into his care.

“Better?” he asks, his voice barely above a whisper.

You nod, too blissed-out to form words. He disappears again, returning with a glass of water that he holds to your lips. You drink greedily, not realizing how parched you were until the cool liquid slides down your throat.

“More?” he asks, and you shake your head.

Wooyoung sets the glass aside and moves to his dresser, pulling open the bottom drawer. He rummages through it for a moment before pulling out a faded blue t-shirt that you recognize immediately. It’s one of his oldest, the fabric soft from countless washes, the university logo barely visible anymore.

“Arms up,” he murmurs, and you comply, letting him slip the oversized shirt over your head. It falls to mid-thigh, enveloping you in his scent—that familiar mix of his cologne and something uniquely him that makes your chest ache with tenderness. He adjusts the collar, his fingers lingering at your neck, before pressing a kiss to your forehead.

“Perfect,” he whispers, his eyes warm as they take you in.

You watch as he pulls on a pair of boxers and a simple white t-shirt, his movements languid, unhurried. There’s something intimate about watching him dress—the way his muscles flex beneath his skin, the casual grace of his movements. He catches you looking and says nothing, just gives you a small, tired smile before he climbs back into bed, pulling you against him. His fingers begin to trace lazy patterns on your arm, up and down, the touch so light it makes you shiver.

“I love you,” he murmurs into your hair. “I hope you know that I adore you so much.”

You turn in his arms to face him, finding his eyes in the dim light of the bedroom. There’s something raw and vulnerable in his gaze that makes your heart ache.

“I know,” you say, reaching up to brush his hair from his forehead. “I love you too.”

He catches your hand, pressing a kiss to your palm. “I’m going to do better. I promise.”

“I believe you, I know you will,” you whisper, and you do.

He pulls you closer, your bodies fitting together like puzzle pieces. His hand finds yours, fingers intertwining. The bracelet he gave you catches the light, the tiny compass charm glinting. He brings your wrist up to his lips and places a kiss on the charm, a silent reminder for you that’ll he’ll always be your north. No matter where you are, he’ll always be there for you.

“I’ve got you,” he coos, his voice dropping to that impossibly soft register he only uses in these moments. “I’m here, I'm not going anywhere.”

You hum in acknowledgment, too far gone for words. He softly chuckles at your sleepiness. His hand resumes its journey down your spine, each vertebra a landmark he maps with infinite patience. Another yawn overtakes you, your eyes watering at the corners. Wooyoung brushes away the tears with his thumb, his touch reverent.

“My beautiful girl,” he whispers. “My whole heart.”

A melody begins to form beneath his breath—something soft and wordless that you recognize from nights when sleep wouldn’t come, when anxiety gripped your throat. His chest vibrates with the sound, a lullaby composed of nothing but his love for you. Your consciousness begins to drift, the edges of your thoughts blurring like watercolours on wet paper. The scent of him—clean sweat and that cologne he’s worn since the day you met—wraps around you like a second blanket.

“I love you,” he whispers, his lips brushing your temple. “Happy anniversary, my love. I promise to make every one from now on better than the last.”

The words follow you down into darkness, a tether to the world you’re leaving behind. The future for the both of you still holds challenges—his career won’t become less demanding overnight, and you’ll both need to work to maintain the balance you’re rebuilding. But as Wooyoung’s arms tighten around you, as you feel the steady beat of his heart beneath your ear, you know you’ll face those challenges together. Because love isn’t about never making mistakes. It’s about having the courage to admit when you’re wrong, and the strength to keep trying, even when it’s hard. And as the morning light spills across the tangled sheets and your intertwined bodies, you know that’s exactly what you have—not a perfect love, but a real one.

© w00yngie 2026 | do not steal, plagiarise, translate or feed my work to ai.

[wooyungiee]

definitely didn’t cry… 🥹