운산 lovebot

your apartment is quiet except for the desperate little whines coming from the bedroom. you follow the sounds down the hall, pushing the door open and stopping dead in your tracks.

wooyoung's shirt is pushed up his chest, face buried in your favorite pillow, hips rolling down slowly. his pussy is soaked, making a dark patch on the fabric where he's been grinding himself stupid.

he freezes the second he realizes you're standing there, eyes going wide, thighs flexing like he's about the scramble off the bed.

"don't," you murmur, shutting the door behind you. "keep going."

wooyoung jolts, his breath catching as his wet little pussy clenches around nothing. he tries to hide his face, but you're already crossing the room, making him whine into the pillow.

"i said keep going," you remind him softly, warning laced in your tone.

his hips twitch, pressing down against your pillow in a shaky grind that makes his whole body shudder. you watch the mess he makes: slick spreading, sticking to the fabric and his thighs, dripping down in strings every time he lifts his hips.

"good boy," you murmur, pulling a whimper from his lips.

you sit on the edge of the bed, close enough that your knee brushes against his skin, "you've been rubbing your pretty little pussy on my pillow all afternoon, huh?"

he shakes his head automatically, but the lie dies in his throat the second your hand wraps in his hair, lifting his face off the pillow. "try that again," you say quietly.

his lips are swollen, cheeks flushed. "y-yes," he whispers. "yes- i needed it, i'm sorry, i couldn't-!"

"show me."

you let go of his hair and he immediately drops his head, hips rolling down into the pillow with a choked moan. you watch him fuck humself stupid on your favorite pillow, a dull throb rising between your thighs.

your hand drifts down, pressing against your own clothed pussy, enough to make him see. wooyoung freezes, panting, "wait- are you- are you touching yourself? because of me?"

"keep grinding," you say, ignoring his question.

he listens, hips working in sloppy circles, his soaked slit dragging over the pillowcase, catching right against the seam. his back arches, mouth falling open as he tries to find it again.

"there?" you ask, leaning back on your palms, spreading your legs just a little so he can see the shape of your cunt under your clothes.

"y-yes-fuck-please-!"

"you're gonna cum like that?" you taunt, "humping my pillow like a needy little slut?"

a broken little whimper falls from his lips as he nods quickly, his hair falling into his eyes.

your hand presses harder between your own legs as you watch him, causing him to look at your motions, pupils blown wide as his hips stutter.

"i asked you a question," you say, voice lowering, "you're gonna cum like that? humping my pillow like a needy little slut?"

wooyoung nods again frantically, unable to get words to leave his mouth, causing you to tilt your head, waiting.

"y-yes," he finally gasps, whimpering as his pussy drags over the seam of the pillowcase, "yes- please- can i-?"

"not yet."

a frustrated whiomper leaves his throat as he tries to slow down, slick puddling onto the fabric of your pillowcase, leaving his thighs shiny.

you shift, spreading a little wider so he has a clearer view of your hand cupping yourself, and wooyoung keeps his gaze locked there, mouth open as he tries to catch his breath.

"look at you," you murmur, "couldn't even wait until i got home. just had to get your pretty pussy all messy on something that smells like me."

wooyoung whimpers, forehead dropping back to the pillow for a second before forcing himself back up, his rhythm becoming more shaky by the second as his swollen clit catches against the fabric.

"you're dripping all over my favorite pillow," you mutter, "what makes you think you get to use my things whenever you get desperate?"

"i-i'm- sorry-" he tries, his voice breaking into a whimper as the pillowcase hits a sensitive spot, causing his hips to snap forward harder, chasing his orgasm.

"don't be sorry, be useful," you snap, leaning in to caress the soft skin of his thigh, "show me how bad you needed me. fuck yourself on my pillow the way you were when i wasn't here."

wooyoung speeds up his movements, collapsing into messy and frantic grinding. he plants his elbows on the bed, working his cunt against the soaked fabric in hard circles. you keep touching yourself lazily, watching his hips twitch as he clenches around nothing.

"that's it," you praise softly, "keep going, my good boy. don't stop until i say."

wooyoung nods frantically into the pillow, hips rolling faster as he chases his orgasm, the dark patch in the fabric continuing to spread.

"go on," you murmur, pressing a kiss to his temple, "cum for me, make a mess of my pillow."

wooyoung cries out, his hips stuttering hard as his cunt pulses against the soaked pillow, slick flooding out of him and dripping down his thighs. he keeps grinding through it, pushing himself into overstimulation before he slumps over.

you ease your hand away from yourself, gently pulling him off the ruined pillow. he goes limp against you, face burying in your chest as you stroke his hair, pressing a kiss to his cheek.

"did so well f'me," you whisper, "such a good boy for me."

You were halfway through a yawn when you turned the corner into the narrow hallway and smacked face to chest first into Mingi. “Oof…shit, sorry….” he muttered, stepping back as your breath caught in your throat and your hand shot out to steady yourself against his chest. Bare chest. Warm and solid and way too close. His skin was still damp from a shower, short messy black hair sticking up everywhere, a towel slung over one shoulder, and he was wearing nothing but… boxers. Black Calvin Kleins. Low on his hips. Hugging his thighs like they were painted on. You’d seen him like this before. So many times. Post showers. Late nights. Early mornings. But lately? Lately, it was driving you crazy. His eyes dropped to where your hand still rested against his chest and your fingers twitched as if suddenly aware of the contact making you jerk your hand back like you’d been burned. “I didn’t think you were up yet,” you said quickly, voice still rough with sleep. He grinned, lazy and unbothered. “Didn’t think you were awake either. You usually don’t roll outta bed until after you threaten your alarm like it owes you money.”

“Rude,” you muttered, stepping past him to the bathroom, careful not to brush against him again. But Mingi didn’t move. He just stood there for a second, eyes lingering on your legs, bare beneath the hem of that shirt. That shirt he recognized, because it used to be his. You didn’t look back, but you felt it, his gaze on your thighs, on the way your hips shifted as you moved. You turned on the faucet and closed the bathroom door a little too fast and leaned on the counter, heart thudding in your chest like it knew something your brain was still trying to deny.

By the time you remerged from the bathroom, hair damp and wrapped up in a towel, the apartment had settled into its usual late morning rhythm. The AC hummed through the vents, the coffee machine gurgled in protest as it brewed something criminally bitter, and from the living room, the low buzz of the TV drifted down the hallway as you padded barefoot into the kitchen, now dressed in light blue scrubs that hugged in all the wrong places when you were running late. You grabbed a travel mug from the drying rack and poured what might have been coffee and might have been battery acid. Then you saw Mingi laid out across the couch like sin in sweatpants. Still shirtless. Still glowing from his shower. Still smug as hell. His long legs were stretched out, one ankle hooked over the other. He had a half smoked blunt pinched between his fingers, resting on his stomach like it belonged there. His hair had started to dry in messy. On the TV, some loud anime was playing, subtitles on, volume low as he looked over at you like he always did. Like he didn’t even realize how unfair he was being just by existing. “You look cute in blue,” he said casually, eyes dropping to your chest for a beat too long before dragging back up.

“Shut up,” you muttered, trying to sip your coffee like your face wasn’t burning. “What?” he grinned. “I meant it.” You rolled your eyes and turned back to the counter, pretending to dig through the junk drawer for a pen that wasn’t there. You needed to breathe. You needed to not look at his abs. Or his chest. Or that faint little glimpse of a happy trail disappearing under the…. “I don’t get why you work mornings,” he said through a cloud of smoke. “You’re always dead inside before noon.” You rolled your eyes. “Because not all of us can grind three nights a week and come home with enough cash to pay rent and buy overpriced cereal,” you fired back.

“Jealous?” he teased, voice low and smoky as you glanced over your shoulder…. mistake. He had his arms behind his head now, which only made the cut of his biceps more obvious. The blunt dangled from his lips as he smirked around it and you had to turn back around, muttering, “I hate you.” He laughed, so sure of himself. “No you don’t.” You didn’t answer. Because he was right. And if you stayed any longer, you were going to say something stupid, like how much you liked the way he smelled in the mornings, or how the sound of his voice saying good girl during one of your dreams last week had woken you up in a sweat. So instead, you grabbed your keys. “I’m gonna be late,” you said, tossing him one last look on your way out the door. “Don’t burn the couch.” He waved you off. “No promises,” he called after you, grinning with the blunt still between his teeth.

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The hospital was already buzzing when you arrived, nurses huddled over clipboards at the station, the smell of antiseptic biting at the back of your throat, and call lights flickering like a Christmas display gone rogue. You clocked in, grabbed your patient sheets, and headed to the break room to caffeinate before the chaos could fully begin. Seonghwa was already there, perched on the edge of the worn sofa like he didn’t have a single bone in his body. Dressed in his usual scrubs. black, fitted and unfair, he looked like he belonged on the cover of a medical drama, not elbow deep in bedpans and IV drips like the rest of you. He looked up the moment you walked in, smirk already forming. “Late night?” You sighed. “Hardly,” you grumbled, pouring your second cup of coffee for the day. “I just had to deal with Mingi being shirtless and smug at seven in the goddamn morning.” A knowing look formed in his eyes. “Ah,” Seonghwa said, amused. “So a normal Thursday.” You shot him a look over your shoulder, and he laughed, swinging his stethoscope around one finger. “You know,” he said casually, like he wasn’t about to drop a conversational grenade, “I’ve known Mingi for three years now. Worked with him every Friday night at Velvet Inferno. And I still don’t get how you’ve never seen his show.”

You stiffened. “I’ve been busy,” you said quickly, reaching for the coffee creamer like it would shield you. “For three years?” Seonghwa scoffed. “I work weekends sometimes.” You argued as he tilted his head. “You had last weekend off.” You stirred your coffee too hard, spilling a little. “Maybe I just don’t want to see my best friend grinding on strangers in leather pants.” Seonghwa arched a perfect brow in amusement. “Strangers? Or you?” You froze, fingers tightening around the mug as he leaned forward, voice lower now, teasing but not unkind. “Look, I’m not judging. Honestly? I think it’s kind of sweet. But I’ve seen the way he looks at you when he thinks you’re not watching. And I’ve seen the way you look at him when you think I’m not watching.” You opened your mouth, ready to deny everything…. but nothing came out. Because what could you say? That the idea of seeing Mingi dance…. seeing him like that…. scared the hell out of you? Because if you did, everything might change. Seonghwa smiled, leaning back. “Just come this Saturday. Just once. You don’t even have to tell him. I’ll put you in the back. No pressure. But I think you need to see what everyone else already knows.” You swallowed hard, heart thudding in your chest. And you hated that a tiny voice in your head whispered you wanted to go.

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The sun was dipping low by the time you pulled into your usual spot in the apartment complex lot, the air thick and heavy with the scent of summer rain still lingering from earlier. Your body ached, shoulders tight, feet on fire, and your brain running on its last ounce of caffeine and spite. All you wanted was a hot shower and silence as you dragged yourself up the stairs to your apartment and pushed the key into the lock just as the door opened from the inside. “Whoa… oh hey,” Mingi said, stopping short when he nearly walked right into you. “Timing.” You blinked up at him, a little stunned. He was in his usual off duty gear: oversized black tee hanging loose over baggy sweats, worn Vans on his feet, a crossbody slung over his chest. His hair was damp and tousled like he’d just showered, and he smelled like cedarwood and laundry detergent. Comfort and home to you. “Heading out?” you asked, adjusting your bag on your shoulder as he nodded, stepping aside to let you in. “Yeah, club night. You good?”

“Long day,” you said, toeing off your sneakers, “one guy tried to bite me. That was new.” Mingi let out a breathy laugh, keys jingling in his hand. “Your job’s wild.” You snorted. “Says the guy whose job title might as well be professional panty dropper.” He smirked. “Exotic dancer, thank you.” You rolled your eyes, but your lips tugged up at the corners as he glanced at the clock on his phone. “I gotta run or Hongjoong’ll give my slot to San.” You waved him off. “Go shake your ass for the masses.” He saluted you as he walked out the door. “Always do.” And just like that, he was gone, door closing softly behind him leaving you standing there for a minute, the silence settling around you. Then, as you made your way to the kitchen, you paused, eyes drifting toward the living room where his hoodie hung over the back of the couch.

You’d known Mingi danced. You’d joked about it, teased him about it, supported him in theory. But you’d never actually seen him at work. Never seen what he became when the lights hit him, when the music started, when the shirt came off. You didn’t even know what he wore onstage. Just the vague idea that it was… not much. And now? Now the curiosity had claws as you opened the fridge and muttered to yourself, “What the hell does he wear?” The curiosity stayed with you as you settled in. The movie you picked was already thirty minutes in, something easy and familiar you’d seen a dozen times before. It played low on the TV while you lounged on the couch, fresh out of the shower now and buried in a hoodie that still smelled a little like your favorite fabric softener. Your legs were tucked under a throw blanket, but your mind wasn’t anywhere near the screen. It was with him still as you stared blankly at the movie, but your brain kept chewing on the same question you hadn’t let yourself fully ask until now. Why haven’t you gone to see him perform?

He’d been working there for over three years. Seonghwa did Friday nights. Hell, he’d had even joked once about how you were the only person in Orlando who hadn’t seen Mingi shirtless under a spotlight. So why? Why had you avoided it like it would ruin you? Your fingers tightened slightly around the blanket. Because you knew exactly why. It wasn’t about the fact that he danced. It wasn’t about the teasing, or the way he’d wink when you told him to shut up, or how he’d come home at 3:00 am still buzzing with energy, collapsing on the couch to eat cereal straight from the box. No. It was because you’d already seen it once. Not the stage lights. Not the show. But close. A year ago. You had just gotten home late from your first overnight shift. Quietly unlocked the door, trying not to wake him. But the second you stepped inside…… you heard it first. Low moans. Gasping breaths. The unmistakable rhythm of someone getting absolutely wrecked. You hadn’t meant to look. You really hadn’t. But you turned your head anyway, and there he was….. Mingi, shirtless and flushed, sweat slicked and panting, one hand braced against the back of the couch while the other gripped the thigh of the girl riding him.

You remembered her, she used to come by a lot. A regular at the club, you’d later find out. Gorgeous, confident, the type of girl who knew what she wanted and went after it. And she had Mingi wrapped around her like he was hers. You’d frozen in the entryway. Couldn’t move. Couldn’t breathe. He didn’t even notice you. Too far gone. Eyes dark, jaw slack, letting out a low groan that made your knees buckle. You’d backed out the door like a ghost, quietly closing it behind you. He never found out you saw. And you never told him. But that night had haunted you. Not because he was having sex. But because for the first time in your life, you realized how badly you wanted to be the one underneath him. And ever since then? You’d kept your distance. In all the ways that counted. Because if seeing him like that from across the room nearly broke you… what the hell would happen if you watched him onstage, knowing that, for three nights a week, Mingi wasn’t just your best friend anymore. He was fantasy. And worse? You weren’t just craving the fantasy. You wanted the real thing.

The movie had long since faded into background noise, the credits rolling over a dramatic orchestral swell you didn’t register as you sat curled on the couch, blanket tucked around you, bowl of popcorn untouched in your lap, eyes fixed on nothing in particular. You were thinking about him still. Of course you were. The way he looked earlier, casual, smiling, smelling like shampoo and cologne. You’d bumped into him like it was nothing, like he wasn’t your best friend, like he didn’t get up onstage hours later and become someone else entirely. Someone you’d never seen. Someone the rest of the world paid to see. And you? You kept pretending like you didn’t want to know what he looked like under those lights. But God, you did. You tossed the blanket off your lap and stood, pacing without realizing it. Every logical part of your brain was screaming don’t go. That this was a terrible idea. That seeing Mingi in his element…. seeing him be seductive, powerful, untouchable… wasn’t going to fix anything. Maybe it would even break something. But your heart had already made the call. Fuck it.

Maybe if you saw it for yourself, really saw it, you could finally snap out of this stupid crush. Put it to bed. Get over the fantasy. Even though every part of you knew that was a lie. You grabbed your phone off the charger and opened your messages, thumbing through the chaos of your shift notes until you found the thread with Seonghwa and let him know you wanted to go tomorrow night and then locked your phone and stared at the wall for a long time while in your chest, your heart thudded a little too loud, a little too fast, as you whispered to yourself, “This is probably gonna make it worse.”

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The street outside Velvet Inferno was packed, black ropes, velvet lined doors, sharp dressed people waiting with anticipation and lip gloss, some hoping to get in, others already drunk off the idea of it. But you weren’t waiting in line. Not tonight. Not when you were with Seonghwa, who nodded at the bouncer with a smirk and tugged you gently by the wrist. “Still time to run, you know,” he said as he led you down the side alley toward the back entrance. His tone was teasing, but there was something else in it too, like he wasn’t sure if he should be dragging you in or dragging you away. “I said I was coming,” you murmured, adjusting the off shoulder sleeve of your black corset top. “And I didn’t think you meant it,” he shot back, glancing you up and down. “Not looking like that, anyway.” You ignored the warmth creeping up your neck. Your outfit had taken a solid hour of second guessing. Corset laced, form fitting black top. Wide leg dark jeans studded along the seams. Towering platform shoes that made your legs look unreal and your presence even taller than it already felt.

The hallway behind the club was dimly lit and smelled like fog machine residue and cologne. Seonghwa tapped a few beats on the staff door and the guy working security cracked it open, giving him a nod before letting you both slip inside. The dressing rooms were just ahead. Music pulsed faintly through the walls, heavy bass, muffled cheering, the rush of a crowd already half lost in the show. Mingi was somewhere in there. Completely unaware. Seonghwa led you out from the back and into the main heart of the club, bringing you towards the bar. He just grinned, lounging back as a server dropped off your drinks and you took a slow sip of yours, trying to act cool, trying not to let the rising hum in your chest give you away. Because any second now, Mingi would be on stage. And you had no idea what you were about to see. You’d only ever known him in hoodies and backwards hats, baggy sweats and sleepy eyes. That was your Mingi. But this? This was his world. And for once, you were stepping into it…..

Backstage at Velvet Inferno was a whole world of its own. Dimly lit mirrors flickered with rows of bulbs, costumes and props scattered across hooks and benches. The air was thick with cologne, sweat, body glitter, and ego. Music from the stage thumped through the walls like a second pulse, and somewhere out front, the crowd was already screaming. San was stretching, shirtless and grinning like a menace. His routine was up next. Yeosang sat on the bench nearby, buttoning a tight, sheer black shirt over his bare chest, his movements slow and precise, like every inch of him knew it was being watched even back here. Mingi was in the corner, half dressed, tugging on a pair of tight black jeans, shirt still slung over his shoulder. He wasn’t on for another two sets, but he liked being ready early. And then there was Wooyoung, draped over the bench like a cat in heat, groaning into the crook of his elbow. “God, I’m so horny,” he whined, flopping dramatically. “San and I need a third. I’m tired of rotating amateurs.”

“Maybe stop scaring them off,” Yeosang muttered, sliding on his rings and Wooyoung sat up, eyes gleaming, completely unfazed. “You know what? We should ask her.” Mingi looked up. “Who?” Something was telling him he wasn’t going to like what Wooyoung was about to say. “Your roommate,” Wooyoung said with a grin. “What’s her name again?” Mingi blinked, jaw clenching a little. “Why?” Wooyoung better not fucking say it….. “She’s hot,” Wooyoung said easily. “And if she’s lived with you this long, she’s probably used to the lifestyle. San and I need someone who can keep up. Emotionally, sexually, spiritually…. like, we light candles and everything.” Yeosang answered without looking up. “Y/N.” Wooyoung snapped his fingers. “Yes! Y/N. That’s her name.” Mingi stared at him, jaw tight. “No.” Wooyoung blinked. “No?” Mingi glared now. “No.” Wooyoung tilted his head, smile curling. “Why not?” He was antagonizing him now. “Because,” Mingi said, yanking his shirt on roughly, “she’s not like that.”

“Ohhh…” Wooyoung’s grin spread, slow and sharp. “Ohhh.” Yeosang raised a brow, glancing over. “Here we go.” Wooyoung was like a shark and Mingi’s emotions were like blood to him right now. “You like her,” Wooyoung said, pointing like it was a mic drop. “You like like her.” Mingi rolled his eyes. “Shut the fuck up.” Wooyoung laughed, giggling and clapping his hands together. “That’s why you’ve never invited her here. That’s why you don’t talk about her. That’s why you looked like you were gonna commit a crime when I said she was hot.” Mingi didn’t say anything as Wooyoung leaned in, elbows on his knees, smug as hell. “Dude. You’re in love with her.”

“Wooyoung….”

“You gonna make a move?”

“No.”

“Why not?”

Mingi’s jaw flexed. “Because she’s my best friend.” Wooyoung made a dramatic face. “That’s the best kind of person to ruin your life with!” Yeosang snorted as San popped his head in, fully dressed for his set in leather pants and a harness. “Did Wooyoung start the polyamory evangelism again?” It wouldn’t be the first time. “He tried to recruit Y/N,” Yeosang said and San grinned. “Oh damn. She’s hot.” Mingi threw his towel at the nearest locker with a loud clang and Wooyoung just laughed. “Better hurry up, lover boy. A girl like that doesn’t stay single long.” Mingi didn’t answer. Because deep down, he knew Wooyoung was right. And he also knew something Wooyoung didn’t. Y/N was the one thing he could never afford to fuck up.

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You were adjusting your top when the lights dimmed and a hush rippled through the crowd as Hongjoong’s voice came through the speakers, smooth, sultry, trained like velvet over whiskey. “Put your hands together, ladies and gentlemen… for your favorite little devil…. SAN.” The spotlight hit center stage and the room exploded. You nearly spilled your drink as the crowd screamed, shrill and feral, as San sauntered out under the lights. Shirtless, with a harness of course. Leather pants hugging him like they were scared to let go. A black choker glinting under the lights. Smirk full of sin. “Oh my God… “He’s really……” you whispered. “Yep,” Seonghwa replied, sipping his drink without flinching. “He’s their chaos demon.” On stage, San dropped to one knee and rolled his hips like he was summoning something dark and holy. Women screamed. Someone threw a bra and you couldn’t stop staring. Not because of San. But because Mingi was going to walk out there soon. And you had no idea how you were supposed to breathe when he did.

You sat there frozen, drink half forgotten in your hand, as the man you’d only ever seen as Mingi’s ridiculously sweet coworker turned into something else entirely under the lights. San prowled across the stage like he owned it, like he’d built it himself. His leather pants clung to every curve, every flex of his thighs as he stalked toward the front, bathed in red light like sin incarnate. The bass pounded. The fog machine kicked. A woman in the front row stood up in her seat and screamed like she was being exorcised. Seonghwa leaned toward you, voice close to your ear. “You’re lucky you missed his firefighter set last month. He had a damn hose.” You choked on your drink. San’s body was shimmering under the lights, abs flexing with every roll of his hips. And then… he jumped down off the stage and stalked through the crowd like a panther, grabbing the arm of a woman in a rhinestone dress and guiding her onto a chaise lounge at the edge of the floor. She looked like she might faint but San didn’t give her a second to recover, just climbed up beside her, straddled the seat, and slowly rolled his hips down against hers, one hand braced beside her head, the other dragging up her thigh like he was checking the strength of his own self control.

“Holy shit,” you muttered and Seonghwa just smiled, sipping his drink. “Told you.” San leaned in like he was going to kiss the girl, but stopped just short, lips hovering a breath away. Her hands were everywhere, chest, arms, back, and San let her. Even encouraged it, grinding slow and deep while the crowd screamed and tossed bills. It was chaos. It was art. It was sex with a lighting designer. And you couldn’t stop watching as San got off the lounge and winked as he pulled the woman up to her feet, gave her a playful little slap on the ass that made the whole table behind her screech, and guided her back to her seat like a gentleman. Then he walked back to the center of the stage, arms out, chest gleaming, a grin on his face that said I just wrecked your soul and I’m not even winded and then bowed as the house lights dimmed and the stage went dark. He came strutting offstage, chest gleaming with sweat and bills sticking out of the waistband of his pants. He grabbed a towel off the rack, wiped his face, and tossed it onto the bench like it owed him money.

The dressing room was a blur of movement, Yeosang doing last minute checks in the mirror, Wooyoung adjusting his earrings, Hongjoong’s muffled voice echoing the last of San’s name through the speakers. But San? He had tunnel vision right for Mingi who was sitting on the edge of a bench, elbows on knees, fully dressed in his performance gear now, black jeans tighter than sin, a mesh shirt hanging loose over his chest, and his hair styled spiky. He was scrolling through his phone, earbuds in, probably blasting his pre set playlist to ignore Wooyoung. Until San kicked his boot. “Yo.” Mingi looked up, pulling out one earbud. “How was it?” San just grinned. Too wide. Too smug. Like he’d just won a bet no one else knew about. “Set was great,” he said. “Crowd’s wild tonight. I swear someone tried to lick my abs.” Mingi snorted. “Not surprising,” he muttered, standing to stretch. “You’re a menace.”

“Guilty.” San didn’t move. Just stared still grinning which made Mingi raise a brow. “What?” San grinned wider. “You’re not even curious who’s in the audience tonight?” Mingi grabbed his water bottle. “I don’t need to be. It’s the same as every week. Bachelorettes. Drunk office girls. That one lady with the glitter cane who tips like a goddamn queen.” San licked his lips, still grinning. “You sure?” Mingi paused, staring at him suspiciously now. “What?” San just tilted his head, leaning against the lockers like a man with secrets. “You really don’t know she’s here?” Mingi frowned. “Who?” San laughed then, shaking his head. “Y/N.” Mingi froze as San’s grin widened even more. “Seonghwa’s here too, but I wasn’t exactly looking at him.” Mingi blinked in denial. “Y/N’s not here.”

“Oh, but she is,” San said, stretching his arms up behind his head like he didn’t just casually nuke Mingi’s entire night. “Sitting in the third booth off center. Black corset top, jeans with studs. Platforms. She looks good. Like someone who absolutely should not be watching you do what you’re about to do.” Mingi’s mouth went dry. “You’re messing with me.” San smirked. “Am I?” Go look.” Mingi didn’t move. Just stood there, every muscle in his body coiled like a wire pulled tight. San patted him on the shoulder as he walked past, towel slung around his neck. “Good luck out there, lover boy.” And then he was gone. Leaving Mingi in a storm of adrenaline, nerves, and something dangerously close to hope.

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The lights dropped low again. The bass thudded once, deep and resonant, followed by a rush of fog spilling out across the stage like the start of a storm. Hongjoong’s voice purred over the sound system, dripping with anticipation. “You’ve been waiting for him… and he’s ready to ruin you.” The crowd screamed. “Give it up for the man who makes fantasy look easy…. your headliner tonight… MINGI.” You couldn’t breathe. Not when the spotlight hit the center of the stage and he walked out like he was made for it. Not when the cheers around you turned primal. Not when the bass dropped and the music started. Because there he was. Mingi. But not the one you saw every morning in his hoodie, grumbling about cereal and half asleep on the couch. This version? This version was lethal. Tight black jeans that looked like they’d been sewn onto his body. A cropped mesh shirt unbuttoned all the way down his chest, the fabric clinging to sweat slick skin and teasing every dip and plane of muscle. Thick silver rings flashed on his fingers. He moved with slow confidence, every step perfectly timed to the thump of the beat. Not rushed. Not overdone. Like he already knew he owned the room. And God, he did.

The screams rose as he reached center stage, his hand sliding down his chest as the first switch in the music hit, a slick remix of something dark and sexy, all bass and breathy vocals. You couldn’t move or look away. And Mingi? Mingi was trying so hard not to look for you. He’d known the moment the curtain parted. He felt it like gravity. The shift in his breath. The hum in his chest. The way his heart slammed once, hard, like it recognized you before his eyes even did. But he didn’t turn his head. Not yet. He started slow, hips rolling in time with the music, hands skimming down his own body like he wasn’t teasing the entire room. His movements were smooth but controlled, like he could go harder but was choosing to drive everyone mad instead. And it was working. Women screamed. Money flew. A few already stood at the edge of the stage, reaching as Mingi dropped low into a crouch, legs spread wide, one hand dragging up his thigh to his chest. His lip curled into a smirk as he popped his hips once sharp. Then again slower. But still… he didn’t look.

Your hands were clenched in your lap, knuckles white. Your drink sat untouched. Your pulse? Absolutely fucked. Seonghwa leaned closer, whispering into your ear with a grin, “You breathing?” You didn’t answer. Because just then Mingi stood and turned, his eyes sweeping the crowd. Searching. Trying to pretend he wasn’t. Trying to stay smooth. Sexy. In control. But the moment his gaze landed on you? He stopped. Only for a second. But it was enough. Enough for you to know he saw you. Enough for him to forget the choreography for a half beat before snapping back in with a grin that didn’t reach his eyes. You felt it. That flicker, real Mingi, underneath the performer. And in that moment, the game changed. Because now he wasn’t dancing for the room. He was dancing for you.

He’d always been good on stage. Controlled. Smooth. A slow burn with a fuse he could light and kill at will. He could flirt without touching, seduce without a word, tease until the whole room was ready to explode and then walk off like it was nothing. But tonight? Tonight was not a normal night. He wasn’t sure what came over him. Maybe it was the way you looked, corset laced tight, sitting back like you were trying to disappear, but your eyes were locked on him like they were chained. Maybe it was the memory of all the nights he’d come home from this stage and found you asleep on the couch, unaware of what he became after dark. Or maybe it was just that he’d waited too long to know what it would feel like to really perform for you. So he stopped holding back. He turned away from the crowd, letting the music climb into a filthy, distorted drop, shoulders rolling once, twice, before he grabbed the hem of his mesh shirt and yanked it off in one smooth pull and the screams that followed shook the walls as he tossed the shirt offstage and ran a hand down his chest, slow, like he was savoring it before he turned back around and met the crowd head on. And you.

There was no mistaking it now. He was performing for you. No more playing it safe as Mingi strutted forward, bare chest gleaming and dropped into a low squat near the front of the stage, spread his knees wide, and rolled his hips up, a deep, obscene grind that had a woman near the edge drop her drink and scream and he smiled. Then came the pants. He didn’t rush it. Oh no. He turned, showing off his back, hands sliding low over his waistband. Then…. pop, the button came undone and he dragged the zipper down slowly before he bent forward and rolled his hips. And then stood again in nothing but black briefs stretched dangerously across his thighs, low enough on his hips to make your throat go dry and the room lost its mind. Bills rained down like confetti. San’s name had gotten cheers. Mingi’s got worship. The lights followed him as he walked back down the runway, body pure heat and precision, muscles shifting under skin like he was carved to be stared at. He grabbed one of the poles, spun once, and dropped into the floor with his knees spread and thighs flexed so tight you thought you might pass out. Your nails dug into your thigh as he looked right at you as he did it and held your gaze as he popped his hips again. And again. And again.

You could feel your breath catching in your throat, your body burning under his stare. You didn’t even realize you were leaning forward slightly until Seonghwa whispered beside you, “He’s gonna destroy you.” You didn’t answer. Because right then, Mingi climbed back to his feet, chest rising and falling like a man on fire and he smiled. Smug. Sinful. Targeted. Like he knew exactly what he was doing to you. Like he didn’t care if you were ready. Because you were already his.

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You weren’t sure how much time had passed since Mingi left the stage. Minutes? Hours? Your concept of time had evaporated somewhere around the third hip thrust. And Seonghwa had been absolutely insufferable since. “Drink some water before you pass out,” he said casually, pushing a glass toward you while lounging in the booth like he hadn’t just watched your entire soul leave your body. “I’m fine,” you muttered, eyes still half glazed. “Oh yeah? You haven’t blinked since he took off his shirt. Do I need to check your vitals, Nurse Y/N?” You took the water purely so you wouldn’t dump your drink on him. Wooyoung had performed next, of course, and it was exactly the chaotic firestorm you expected, leather pants, fire visuals, and a lot of tongue. Yeosang followed, graceful and untouchable, a sharp contrast that left the crowd breathless. But you? You barely saw them.

Your mind was still spinning from Mingi. From the way he looked straight at you. The way he moved like he knew what he was doing to you. And worst of all…. the way he smiled right before the lights went out. Smug bastard. And now the Hongjoong’s voice came booming back through the speakers, and the lights shifted, soft pinks, warm reds, the kind of glow that signaled one thing and one thing only. Audience participation. “Alright, alright, alright,” he purred, grinning as he walked across the stage. “You’ve seen them solo, but what if I told you there’s more?” The crowd screamed. “Oh, I know we’ve got some special people in the house tonight… where’s our bride to be?” More screaming as a spotlight snapped toward the left, landing on a girl in white with a tiara and glitter down her arms. She was losing her mind as Hongjoong grinned. “I think she deserves one last sin before the ring, don’t you?” Another round of unhinged cheering. “Ladies and gentlemen, for our bachelorette tonight… the Velvet Inferno All Stars!”

The lights dropped. The bass hit. And the entire team came out. San, Wooyoung, Yeosang, and, of course, Mingi, now in a sleeveless black tank and ripped jeans, hair still wild from earlier. He wasn’t even trying to perform yet. Just walking. And somehow still ruining your life. The crowd was feral as the guys spread out across the stage, moving in sync, just a taste of choreography, enough to tease, before they surrounded the bachelorette’s chair like lions circling a meal. “Now,” Hongjoong grinned, “you get to pick who gives you the lap dance of your dreams.” The bachelorette looked like she was about to ascend as San leaned forward and whispered something in her ear. Then Wooyoung dropped to his knees in front of her with a wink. Yeosang stood back, arms crossed, smug and untouched. And Mingi didn’t even approach her. Not at first. Because he was scanning the crowd again. Looking for you. And when he found you? He smirked. That same dangerous smirk he’d worn earlier. But this time? He winked and your stomach dropped.

Seonghwa leaned in. “You’re not getting out of here without at least five more people knowing you’re in love with your best friend.” You didn’t answer. Because on stage, the bachelorette finally picked her dancer. But Mingi’s eyes never left yours as the crowd erupted. San let out a dramatic, fake gasp. Wooyoung fell to the floor clutching his chest like he’d been robbed. Yeosang clapped, deadpan as Mingi just grinned. Slow. Sharp. Like he’d been expecting it. He strolled forward with that lazy, lethal confidence, towering over her like a fantasy made of smoke and basslines. The bride squealed, half standing before Hongjoong gently pushed her back down into the chair at center stage. “Stay seated, sweetheart,” he smirked. “He’ll do all the work.” Seonghwa sipped his drink beside you, not even pretending to hide his smile. “Oh, this is gonna be fun.” Your soul left your body again as the music kicked in, something filthy, heavy and slow. It wasn’t choreographed like the main sets. This was freestyle. Improvised. Raw. The dancers were encouraged to push the envelope. To read the room. Or in this case…. read you.

Mingi circled the chair once, eyes never leaving the bride. But you could feel it. His awareness of you as he straddled one leg of the chair and bent low, arms braced on either side of her shoulders, mouth brushing her ear as he whispered something that made her slap a hand to her mouth and giggle like a teenager at a sleepover. Then he dropped to his knees and placed his hands on her thighs, spreading them slowly, obscenely, before dragging them back up to her waist. She was losing her mind. Laughing. Squealing. Gripping the sides of the chair like her life depended on it. And then he climbed into her lap and you almost stood up. Instinct. Jealousy. Something primal and embarrassing that you tried to crush before it showed on your face. But of course Seonghwa noticed. “Ohhh no,” he whispered, clearly delighted. “You’re suffering.”

You ignored him as Mingi started grinding down into the bride’s lap, rolling his hips in slow, punishing waves that had women throwing money onstage like it was a religious offering. He leaned back, arms behind his head, chest on full display, eyes closed for a beat…. then he cracked one eye open and looked right at you. Still moving. Still in her lap. But his gaze? Locked. He didn’t smirk. He didn’t wink. He just stared, slow and steady, while he kept rolling his hips. You couldn’t breathe as the bride squealed again when he leaned forward and brushed his mouth along her jaw, not quite kissing, just enough to make her sob laugh and fan herself as the other dancers hyped the crowd. He stood a moment later, still grinning, and backed away as the MC brought down the lights and pulled the bride up for a round of applause. You barely clapped as Seonghwa leaned in close, eyes glittering. “He’s going to be insufferable after this.” You didn’t even wait for the lights to come back up. The second Mingi stepped offstage, you turned to Seonghwa with wide eyes and a tight jaw. “I need a drink.”

Seonghwa didn’t argue. He just grabbed his jacket and his phone, tossed a few bills on the table, and followed you without a word as you slipped past the last wave of screaming fans and out into the thick Florida night air. The sidewalk was quieter out here, but your head was still full of him. Of the way his hips moved. The smug weight of his gaze. The grind in that girl’s lap and how you could still feel it on your skin even though he never touched you. You needed something cold. Strong. Preferably on fire. “There’s a place down the block,” Seonghwa said as he fell into step beside you, not even out of breath. “Divey but not gross. Some of the guys go there after shows.” You didn’t care, you just nodded. “Perfect.” Two blocks later and you were both stepping inside a bar that was comfortably dim, the kind of place that didn’t demand conversation. The music was low, the hum of quiet voices around you almost soothing. Your drink was half empty. Your walls? A little more than that. Seonghwa didn’t push. He never did. He just sat across from you, nursing his whiskey, eyes steady as you stared at the table for a long time before you said it. “He’s my best friend.”

It came out small. Honest. Like you needed to remind yourself. Seonghwa looked at you, but didn’t speak. “I mean… he wasn’t dancing for me. Not really.” You swirled the ice in your glass with a fingertip, watching it spin. “If anything, he was messing with me. Teasing. He knows I’ve never seen him perform. He probably just wanted to make me squirm a little. Mission accomplished.” Seonghwa raised an eyebrow. “You don’t actually believe that.” You kept going like you didn’t hear him. “I mean…” you laughed, short and hollow. “Don’t you think if he actually saw me like that…. saw me the way he sees those girls in the crowd, or the ones he brings home sometimes… he would’ve made a move a long time ago?” Seonghwa’s glass clinked softly as he set it down but you didn’t look at him. You couldn’t. Your throat was too tight. “I’ve been living with him for five years,” you said quietly. “I walk around in his shirts. I do his laundry half the time. I know what cereal he likes and what side he sleeps on and that he cries during sad movies when he thinks I’m not looking. And nothing’s ever happened. Not once.” You looked up finally, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach. “That means something, right?”

Seonghwa didn’t speak right away. He just watched you before finally, softly, saying, “Yeah. It means he’s an idiot. He’s also your best friend,” Seonghwa added, tone even. “Which means he probably thinks you don’t see him like that. And knowing Mingi? He’d rather suffer in silence than risk losing what you already have.” You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. Because a small, stupid part of you wanted to believe he was right. But the louder part? The part that watched Mingi grind into a stranger like she was the only woman in the world? That part couldn’t help but think…. if he wanted me… wouldn’t he have said something by now….. the bell over the bar door chimed. You barely registered it at first, still caught in the haze of what you’d just said. Still chewing on the weight of your own words, feeling them echo in your chest like you’d carved them into your ribs.

But then Seonghwa’s eyes flicked up and something about the way his posture shifted made your stomach twist. You turned and there he was. Mingi. Laughing. Loud. Glowing. Still flushed from the stage. Black jeans. Flannel shirt that clung to his chest in all the worst ways. Silver chains catching the low bar lights. His hair a mess, like he hadn’t even stopped to cool down. Right behind him, San and Wooyoung pushed through the doorway like they owned the building, talking with their hands, both laughing about something Wooyoung said way too loudly as Yeosang trailed after, calm and unreadable as always, already scanning the room. They were a unit. A storm. A problem. And they saw you immediately. Wooyoung spotted Seonghwa first, and his grin bloomed like trouble. “Ohhh shit, look who finally came out to play!” San followed his gaze and his eyebrows lifted when he saw you. Mingi was still scanning the bar casually, mid laugh, until his eyes landed on your booth and stuck. His smile didn’t drop. Not quite. But it changed. Like a curtain had lifted and he was aware now. That you were still here. That you hadn’t run far enough.

Seonghwa exhaled, drained his drink, and muttered under his breath, “Brace yourself.” Too late. The guys were already heading straight for you. Wooyoung got there first, sliding into the booth beside Seonghwa without asking. “Didn’t know this was a post show party. You guys should’ve told us you were coming here.” Seonghwa rolled his eyes as Yeosang stood at the end of the booth, nodding to you with that unreadable expression. San pulled up a spare chair, flipping it around and straddling it with ease. And Mingi hovered for a second before dropping into the seat right beside you. Close enough that his knee brushed yours. Close enough to smell his cologne. His sweat. The faintest trace of whatever body oil was still on his skin from earlier. “Didn’t expect to see you again tonight. Figured I’d get home and you’d be passed out.” he said, voice low and a little rough. You turned to him, blinking slowly. “We just wanted a drink.” His gaze dipped to your lips. “Yeah?” You nodded, trying to stay calm. “That’s all.”

He hummed. “Did you enjoy the show?” You opened your mouth then closed it. Because how the hell were you supposed to answer that? You looked away as Mingi leaned back in his seat, grin pulling at the corner of his mouth as he turned to Wooyoung like he hadn’t just gutted you in one line. But you could feel it. His knee still brushing yours. His fingers resting just close enough to yours on the table to make your skin buzz…… Wooyoung slammed his hand on the table. “Tequila shots. Extra lime. We’re celebrating.” Seonghwa opened his mouth to object, but the server was already nodding and disappearing as San leaned over the back of your chair, draping his chin on your shoulder with all the innocence of a man who had just dry humped on stage thirty minutes ago. “You stayed for all of us, huh?” You gave him a tight smile. “Regretting it.” He grinned “You loved it.” He backed off just as the server returned with a tray of shots and a grave warning about their strength. No one listened as Wooyoung handed them out like a bartender on his last shift, one for each of you, no hesitation. Then he turned to you, raised his glass, and said with zero warning, “You know, Y/N… I asked Mingi if San and I could get you to be our third and he looked like he wanted to murder me.”

You choked on air. “What?” you asked, eyes going wide as Mingi tensed beside you and San coughed into his hand, failing to hide a grin. Wooyoung? Absolutely shameless. “Our third,” he repeated with a smirk. “Like… in bed. Between us. On top of us. Around us. You get the vibe.” Your mouth opened. Closed. Opened again. “I…. what the hell, Wooyoung?!” Seonghwa was straight up wheezing across the booth. Even Yeosang finally cracked a smile behind his glass as San lifted his shot like it was a toast. “For the record, I supported the idea.” You looked back and forth between him and Wooyoung. “You two are feral,” you snapped, flushing hot. “And yet,” Wooyoung sang, tilting his head at Mingi, “he said no. Real fast. Like he was ready to throw me through a wall.” You turned to Mingi who was staring into his shot like it had betrayed him personally. “Mingi,” you said slowly. “Did you actually threaten Wooyoung?” He didn’t look up. “Not explicitly.”

“He snarled,” Wooyoung added helpfully.

“I did not snarl.”

“He made a noise. It was primal. Hot, if I wasn’t scared for my life.”

You just sat there, blinking. Because what the fuck. What did that even mean? Why would he care? And why did that tiny part of you, the one curled up deep inside, drunk on heat and nerves and years of tension, feel something dangerously close to hope? Wooyoung, never one to let go of chaos, spun his empty shot glass between his fingers with a devil’s grin. “I’m just saying, Mingi told me you weren’t into that kind of thing.” You froze as more shots arrived. Seonghwa snorted under his breath. San went suddenly quiet, eyes flicking from Mingi to you with a little too much interest. Yeosang leaned back, his face unreadable, but you swore his brows ticked up a fraction as your gaze snapped back to Mingi. He wasn’t looking at anyone. Still just sitting there, jaw tight, shoulders hunched, gaze fixed hard on the table now like he could physically will this conversation into the void. And something in you cracked.

You reached out, grabbed your shot glass, clear tequila sloshing near the rim, and turned your stare back to Wooyoung. “He has no idea what I’m into.” The whole table went still. Like someone had yanked the volume knob on reality. Wooyoung’s mouth opened into a perfect O. San actually whistled. Seonghwa pressed his lips together to stop a smile. And Yeosang murmured, just once, “Oof.” But Mingi? He finally looked up. Slowly. Eyes sharp, wide, locked on you like he’d just seen you for the first time. There was something in his expression you couldn’t place. Like your words had knocked the air out of him and he wasn’t sure whether to get angry, get flustered, or get closer. You didn’t break the stare. You just tipped your shot back and slammed the glass down like punctuation. “Cheers,” you said and San immediately grabbed his own, grinning like this was the best night of his life. “To wild revelations and poor self control,” he toasted. You didn’t look at Mingi again. But you could feel him. Watching. Burning. And you knew, without a doubt, that something had shifted for real this time.

The rounds of shots had cracked something open at the table, walls lowered, filters slipping, everything a little too loud, a little too easy. Even Yeosang was smiling now, and that almost never happened without money involved. Everyone had another drink in hand, courtesy of Wooyoung, and the conversation had swerved somewhere between sex, injuries, and unhinged post show stories. Naturally, it was only a matter of time before the chaos god himself struck again. Wooyoung turned to you and Seonghwa, chin in his hand, eyes gleaming. “So… be honest. You two ever get hit on at work? Like, emergency room drama plus sexual tension? Feels like it happens.” You rolled your eyes with a laugh. “You have no idea. Hwa once got hit on while treating a girl’s dislocated shoulder.”

“She asked for my number while crying,” Seonghwa added proudly as he raised his glass. “Okay, but nothing beats the screwdriver guy.” You blinked. “Seonghwa.” San perked up. “Wait…. screwdriver guy?” Mingi tilted his head, brow twitching. “Yeah, what screwdriver guy?” You were gonna kill Seonghwa. “Ohhh yeah,” Seonghwa said, glancing at you with a wicked grin. “This guy walks into the ER with a screwdriver literally embedded in his skull. Just sticking out like a goddamn cartoon. And he still had the audacity to flirt with her.” Wooyoung gasped. “Did you say yes?” You wished the floor would swallow you whole because you could feel Mingi staring at you. “She didn’t say anything,” Seonghwa replied. “But get this…. he comes back a month later for follow up scans, totally healed, and smooth as hell. And she…” He leaned back smugly. “Ends up hooking up with him in the on call room.”

The table exploded. “No fucking way,” San cackled. “I love that for you,” Wooyoung declared, reaching across the table to cheers your glass as Yeosang blinked. “Was this pre or post screwdriver?” You groaned. “Post,” Seonghwa answered for you, already laughing as you hid your face in your hands, groaning. “You were supposed to take that to your grave.” Seonghwa shrugged, grinning. “Too good not to share.” You peeked through your fingers only to lock eyes with Mingi. And he looked… not okay. Not angry. Not sulking. But something had definitely shifted. His jaw was tight. One of his hands flexed slightly against his thigh. And his eyes? Still on you, but narrowed now, more focused. Like he was trying to solve a puzzle that had just gotten a new piece he didn’t like. It was a casual story. But it hit him like a loaded gun. You sat back slowly, pulse picking up as Mingi looked away.

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The front door creaked open, the hinges protesting like they knew what kind of night it had been. Mingi half carried, half guided you inside, one arm wrapped around your waist, the other catching your wrist as you stumbled slightly over the threshold. “Okay, okay, I got you,” he muttered, voice low and warm as he toed the door shut behind him. You giggled into his shoulder, completely drunk and unapologetically soft, letting yourself be steered down the hall like gravity had taken the night off. Your heels were dangling from your other hand, fingers limp around the straps. Your hair was a mess. Your corset had shifted slightly, and your voice had that dreamy slur you only got when you were too far gone to care about appearances. And Mingi was suffering. He had one hand splayed against your bare waist where your corset had ridden up. The heat of your skin against his palm was killing him slowly. You weren’t heavy, but every sway of your hips against his side, every little laugh into his neck, it was all too much. “Did I thank you for not letting me fall in the street?” you mumbled as he helped you into the apartment.

“Twice.”

“You’re strong.”

“You’re wasted.”

“I mean it,” you said, looking up at him with those half lidded, glassy eyes. “You could probably carry me with one arm.” Mingi swallowed hard. “Maybe,” he muttered. “Don’t test me.” You stopped walking suddenly making him turn, confused, until he realized…. you were just staring at him, head tilted, eyes soft. Curious. Honest in the way only drunk people and small children ever were. “Mingi,” you said quietly. “You didn’t like that story.” His breath caught as your fingers brushed his wrist. “You got weird after it. The screwdriver guy thing.” He tried to play it off, forcing a small laugh. “Wasn’t that deep.” But you shook your head. “No. It was.” You reached up, hand clumsy but gentle, fingers brushing the chain at his neck. “He was just some guy,” you whispered. “It didn’t mean anything.” Mingi’s jaw clenched. “I don’t care,” he said quickly. Too quickly. And you blinked at him, swaying slightly. “Liar.” Mingi exhaled through his nose, chest tight. “You’re drunk, Y/N.”

“Not that drunk.” He looked at you then, really looked at you. Your flushed cheeks. Your parted lips. The strap of your top sliding off your shoulder. The way your body leaned into him without even realizing it. And still, he didn’t move. Didn’t touch you. Didn’t say the thing sitting right there on his tongue. Because he didn’t know if you’d remember in the morning. And if you didn’t? It might break him. So instead, he whispered, “Come on. Let’s get you to bed.”

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One week later, you were one minor inconvenience away from snapping. The ER was chaos. Of course it was. Flu season had hit like a freight train, two interns were arguing about IV placement, someone spilled coffee on the med cart, and the vending machine ate your last dollar without giving you your fucking chips. But none of that was the real problem. No, the real problem was lower. Cramping. Aching. Heat blooming in your gut in waves that had nothing to do with illness. You were on your period, bloated and irritable and craving every carb known to man. And horny. Not like regular horny. Dangerously horny. The kind of hormonal spiral that made you want to climb someone like a tree, and unfortunately, that someone was currently folded into your brain like a goddamn highlight reel.

Mingi. Mingi on stage. Mingi shirtless. Mingi grinding in slow motion with his tongue poking out slightly and sweat dripping down his chest. You growled quietly and slammed a clipboard down on the counter. “Everything alright?” Seonghwa asked, suddenly appearing beside you with a chart and a little too much amusement. “No,” you snapped. “Everything is not alright.” He blinked, then gave you one long, knowing look. “Cramping or craving?”

“Both.”

He nodded solemnly. “Mingi again?” You said nothing. But your face said everything. You hadn’t stopped thinking about him. Not since the bar. Not since the lap dance. Not since he half carried you home and stared at you like he was dying to say something and didn’t. He hadn’t brought it up since and neither had you. And that? That was driving you insane. You were stuck in limbo. Frustrated. Sensitive. Needy in ways you couldn’t even explain. And every time your mind drifted, it went right back to him. The way his hands looked on someone else’s thighs. The way his jeans sat on his hips. The way he smelled when he was that close, cologne and sweat and something you swore was designed to break you. You clenched your thighs and Seonghwa noticed. “Y/N.”

“Don’t.”

“You’re literally sweating.”

“I said don’t.” He raised both hands in surrender, but he was laughing now. “Just saying…. maybe you need to… handle it.”

“I can’t.”

“Why?”

You glanced at the clock, hating everything. “Because I have rounds in ten minutes, and also this is a hospital.” He gave you a slow smirk. “So no on call room hookup today?” You turned to him, eyes dead. “You are not funny.” But you were already thinking about it. Already thinking about him. And wondering how much longer you could go before you snapped completely.

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The second you opened the front door to the apartment, the scent hit you first…. your favorite candles. Not one of his woodsy ones. Not one of the weird incense sticks he picked up from that crystal shop San dragged him to once. Yours. The vanilla and lavender one you only lit when cramps were killing you and you wanted to feel human again. Your throat tightened as your bag slipped from your shoulder with a dull thud against the hardwood as you stepped further in. The living room was dimmed, lamps only, no overhead lights, and the coffee table had a neatly arranged setup of your favorite snacks. A giant bottle of water. Chocolate covered pretzels you didn’t even realize he remembered you liked. A heating pad, already plugged in. And your favorite fuzzy blanket, folded on the couch with Grey’s Anatomy already queued up on Netflix.

You stood there frozen. Like an emotional bomb had gone off and you were the only one left standing. “Mingi!” you called out, voice cracking slightly. He emerged from the hallway. Hoodie. Sweatpants. Hair damp from a shower. He looked freshly scrubbed and so soft it made something behind your ribs ache. “Hey,” he said, voice gentle, like he already knew. “Rough day?” You nodded, not trusting your voice and he smiled coming over. “I set it all up. You just missed the rain too, it started like five minutes ago, perfect sad girl weather.” And that’s when you almost lost it. Your eyes burned. Your nose stung. Not because of the cramps. Not because of work. But because how could he care about you like this and not feel it too?

You dropped your eyes to the heating pad, to the snacks, to the blanket you’d once told him was your favorite two years ago, and whispered, “You didn’t have to do all this…” He shrugged, scratching the back of his neck. “I wanted to.” And that was it. The thread snapped. You sat on the couch too quickly, trying to hide your face in the blanket, but your voice cracked again when you said, “You’re gonna make me cry, and it’s so stupid.” Mingi blinked, concerned now, crouching beside you. “What? Hey. No, it’s not stupid.” You shook your head, biting the inside of your cheek. “I’m just hormonal and tired and….” And in love with you. He touched your knee gently. “Y/N.” You looked at him, trying to hold it together as he smiled, quiet and soft. “You don’t have to say anything. Just let me take care of you tonight.”

Two hours later and the soft hum of Grey’s Anatomy played through the apartment, but you weren’t really watching. It was Friday night. Which meant Mingi was working. Which meant somewhere, right now, this very minute, he was onstage. Shirtless. Smirking. Running his hands over someone else. Letting them run theirs over him. Laughing into someone’s ear. Grinding into some stranger’s lap like it didn’t mean anything. Because to him, it probably didn’t. But to you? It felt like a slow stab to the chest. You sat curled on the couch, fuzzy blanket pulled around you like armor, a half eaten bag of chips crumpled beside you and your phone screen lit up every so often from some irrelevant notification. Your heating pad had long gone warm instead of hot. But your thoughts? They were scorching. You hated how vivid your imagination was. How easily your brain conjured it. The way his thighs looked when he moved. The roll of his hips. The way his fingers looked tangled in someone’s hair the night of the bachelorette set. The way he looked at you while grinding on someone else like he wanted you to feel it. And God, did you feel it.

Even now, alone in your apartment, the jealousy crawled up your spine like a fever. You didn’t want to care. You really didn’t. He’d been dancing long before you ever stepped foot in Velvet Inferno. You’d known what he did. Hell, you supported it. Encouraged it. But seeing it? Feeling it? Knowing he was out there right now with hands on him that weren’t yours? It made your chest ache. Made your throat tight. Made your eyes sting. And worst of all, you couldn’t do anything about it. You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t his anything. Just his roommate. His best friend. The one he made soup for when you were sick. The one he knew better than anyone. The one he carried home drunk and tucked into bed like she was something precious. But still… Not the one he touched like that. Your jaw clenched as your hands curled in the blanket. You tried to focus on the TV, but the tears were already pressing against your lashes.

And suddenly…. you just missed him. Even though he’d only been gone a few hours. Even though he’d come home eventually. Even though he wasn’t really yours to miss in the first place.

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The music was finally dying down. Velvet Inferno had started to clear out, lingering bachelorette groups giggling out the doors, dollar bills scattered like confetti across the stage, the haze of sweat and body spray still thick in the air. Staff moved in practiced rhythm, cleaning, counting, cashing out. Mingi sat backstage in his usual spot, toweling off the last of the sweat from his neck, his black tank clinging to his chest. The adrenaline had faded, but he was still wired. Not from the show. From thoughts of you. He hadn’t been able to shake you all night. The way you looked curled on the couch before he left. That soft, tired smile. The heat pack in your lap. The blanket around your shoulders. You’d barely said anything when he left, just mumbled “have a good night” without looking up from the TV. But he’d felt the shift. The distance. And now? Now he just wanted to get home.

He was sliding on his jacket when he heard a voice behind him. “Heading out already?” Mingi turned and looked at her. Daphne. Same long legs. Same red lipstick. Same skin tight dress she always wore on Friday nights when she came to watch him work. The same girl who used to be a routine. Who never asked for anything more than what he gave, and who gave exactly what he used to want. Used to. “Yeah,” he said casually, zipping up his jacket. “It’s late.” She smiled, slow and familiar. “Wanna come back to your place?” He blinked. “What?” She smirked at him. “You said you were heading home. I figured…” She stepped closer, resting a hand lightly on his chest. “It’s been a while.” Mingi gently removed her hand. “Nah,” he said, voice quiet. “Can’t tonight.” She tilted her head, a flicker of irritation passing behind her eyes. “Why not?”

“Y/N’s home,” he said simply, not even thinking about it and Daphne’s brows lifted. “Your roommate?” Mingi nodded. “Yeah.” And my best friend. The woman I love. Daphne laughed. “So? You’ve had girls over when she’s home before.” He flinched slightly but didn’t answer. Didn’t explain that he didn’t do that anymore. Daphne took a half step closer. “Okay, fine. Come back to my place then.” He hesitated. Just for a second. But it was enough for her to see it. “Mingi,” she said, a little sharper now, “you and I both know this doesn’t have to mean anything.” Now his patience was growing thin. “I know,” he said quietly. “That’s the problem.” Candace blinked, thrown as Mingi adjusted his bag and nodded toward the exit. “I’ll see you around.” And then he was gone.

Outside, the night air hit him hard. But it wasn’t the cold that made him shiver. It was the image of you, curled on the couch, waiting for him. And the ache in his chest that told him the only place he wanted to be was home with you.

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Two weeks later and the ER was slow that day, the hum of fluorescent lights overhead and Seonghwa’s relentless nagging being the only consistent sounds in the small break room. You were sipping on lukewarm coffee, flipping through a clipboard when Seonghwa burst in with all the dramatics of a Broadway curtain call. “Please, please, please come tonight,” he begged, leaning on the desk like the fate of the world depended on your attendance. “It’s my birthday. I’m literally performing to Pony just for you. And I got you on the guest list. VIP. No excuses.” You rolled your eyes, lips twitching. “You’re trying to bribe me with Ginuwine?” He gasped. “How dare you disrespect a classic.” You laughed, trying not to cave too fast, but truth was, part of you wanted to go. Even if it meant risking seeing Mingi onstage again. Especially after that first time when the sight of him dancing for someone else nearly cracked you in half. But it was Seonghwa’s birthday… and damn it, you did miss that energy. “Fine,” you groaned, “but only because it’s your birthday.“ Seonghwa grinned like he’d won the lottery. “You won’t regret it.”

When you got home, your bare feet padded across the wood floor as you dug through your closet like a woman possessed. You weren’t even sure what you were looking for until your fingers brushed the silky fabric, pulling out that black dress. The one with the daring cutouts, gold clips, and the power to make any man forget how to spell his own name. You hadn’t worn it in ages. You barely remembered buying it. But something in your chest tightened as you held it up to your body in the mirror. Let him look, you thought. Mingi was in the shower, steam rolling under the bathroom door as you shimmied into the dress, adjusting the straps and making sure the clips were perfectly in place. The door creaked open behind you and you didn’t have to look to know it was him. You heard his steps pause. “Where are you going?” came Mingi’s voice, low and casual but with that distinct edge only someone who just walked past your door in a towel and saw you in that dress could have.

You turned slowly, watching him lean on the doorframe, towel slung low on his hips. You met his eyes, cool and effortless. “It’s Seonghwa’s birthday. He begged me to come to the club again. Said he’s dancing tonight.” Mingi blinked once. Then again as you turned back to the mirror like it was nothing. Like your heart wasn’t suddenly doing backflips. “You’re wearing that dress?” His voice was low, unreadable and you shrugged. “Yes.” Mingi didn’t respond. He just kept looking at you like you weren’t real. Like the air had gotten punched out of him. You tilted your head, a little amused. “Why?” His tongue pressed into the inside of his cheek and you saw it hit him. The memory. You saw it in the way his throat bobbed. The way he blinked like he was trying to snap himself out of something. Because you had worn that dress once before, two years ago, at his birthday party. The rooftop one with the string lights and the terrible punch. You’d shown up late and he’d been halfway through a drink when he saw you across the crowd in that exact dress. He hadn’t lasted ten minutes. He’d walked straight out. Claimed he had to take a call and never came back.

His fingers twitched at his sides and his gaze dropped again, slower this time, heavier as you shrugged, smoothing the fabric again as you turned slightly in the mirror, checking the back. “Hwa said dress slutty.” Mingi huffed out a laugh but it wasn’t amused. It was breathless. Frustrated. His hand dragged through his still damp hair, and he muttered something under his breath in a tone you couldn’t quite catch. “Something you wanna say?” you teased lightly, not looking at him. He stepped back, eyes still locked on you like you might disappear if he blinked. “Nah,” he said eventually. “Just… I remember that dress.” You finally met his eyes through the mirror. “So do I.” For a moment, neither of you said a word as the air between you thickened, warm and electric and dangerously unspoken. Then he cleared his throat, eyes darting away. “I’ll, uh… I’ll see you there.” And just like before, Mingi turned and walked away. Except this time, you heard his breath catch the second he rounded the corner.

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The club was already packed by the time you got there. Friday nights were always heavier, more tourists, more regulars, more people celebrating birthdays they’d never remember by tomorrow morning. The line outside wrapped around the block, but you didn’t wait in it. You knew better. You slipped through the side entrance like you’d been there a thousand times before, heels clicking against the hallway tile as the muffled bass grew louder with every step. And then you stepped out into the main room and every set of eyes in the place might as well have turned your way. Especially the women. It was subtle at first, side glances, a few narrowed eyes, a whisper behind a manicured hand. But the closer you got to the front, the more obvious it became. Your dress wasn’t designed for subtlety. Black. Clinging. Cut in ways that defied logic and modesty.

You sank into the velvet chair, legs crossed, ignoring the judgmental looks from the women at the bar. Let them look. Let them whisper. Let them wonder why, for the first time ever, Mingi wasn’t behind the curtain doing shots or smoking a blunt or hyping himself up for his number. Because Mingi wasn’t hyped. Mingi was pacing. Mingi was sweating. Mingi was seconds from walking onstage because he knew you were already here. In that dress. The lights dimmed just as you settled deeper into your seat, the chatter fading into a hush as a smooth, bass heavy track spilled from the speakers and a spotlight flared to life, and there he was. Yeosang. Golden skin, dark eyes, lean muscle dressed in all black and leather. His entrance was smooth and practiced, dripping with that quiet confidence only he had. The crowd responded immediately, cheers, catcalls, a few high pitched moans from the row behind you but you just smiled and sipped your drink as you watched him move with surgical precision, hips rolling, fingers dragging down his chest as he danced for the women at the edge of the stage, grinning when one of them tried to reach for his belt but Yeosang winked and stepped back just out of reach. Your gaze moved to the door behind him, the one leading backstage.….

Mingi was sitting on the edge of the couch backstage, bouncing his knee like it owed him money. Shirtless, sweat already misting his collarbones as he glared at the floor like it had personally offended him. That fucking dress. He couldn’t get it out of his head. Not the current version of you in it, though that was bad enough. No, what was really wrecking him was the memory of it. You, two years ago, walking into his birthday party without a clue what you were doing to him. Hair loose, smile innocent, body hugged tight in that goddamn black fabric. He remembered the exact second he saw you, how the world tilted, how the air left his lungs, how he had to walk out because if he didn’t, he was going to do something that would’ve ruined everything. And now? Now you were wearing it again.

“Bro, if you bounce your knee any harder, the floor’s gonna crack.” Mingi looked up to find Seonghwa zipping up his pants in the dressing mirror, shaking his head with a smirk. “She wore that fucking dress,” Mingi muttered. Seonghwa paused. “What dress?”

“The one ruining my existence.”

Seonghwa let out a low whistle and turned back to the mirror. “Well. Guess I’m not the only one getting a present tonight.” Mingi groaned and ran a hand through his hair. “I’m gonna combust.”

“Don’t. I need you alive. You’re after me.” Across the room, San was pressed against the wall with Wooyoung in his lap, both of them shamelessly making out like they didn’t care it was a shared dressing room. Which, to be fair, they didn’t. Wooyoung’s hands were already halfway up San’s shirt, and neither of them looked like they had plans to stop. “Do they have to do this right now?” Mingi grumbled. “Have you met them?” Seonghwa said without turning around as Hongjoong pushed through the door, headset in place, clipboard in hand, his expression all business until he saw Seonghwa. “Alright, birthday boy. You’re up next, and your set’s been extended. Two full songs instead of one. You good?” Seonghwa blinked. “Wait….. what?” Hongjoong grinned. “It’s your birthday. Consider it a gift. Work the stage, soak it in. And wear the silver chains tonight, make the old women in the back row faint.” He turned and disappeared before Seonghwa could protest, leaving him staring at the mirror in disbelief. “Well,” Seonghwa said, glancing at Mingi. “Guess I’ve got more time to keep her warm for you.” Mingi rolled his eyes, but his stomach twisted.

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The lights changed again, darker now, drenched in purple and silver, bassline deep and sultry as the Hongjoong announced the next set. “Ladies and gentlemen… for the birthday boy himself…” You leaned back with a smile, just as the music kicked in, slow, smooth, something with a wicked little rhythm. And then Seonghwa stepped into the spotlight and the audible gasp from the crowd was immediate. You could hear someone behind you whisper “holy shit,” and you didn’t blame them. Seonghwa looked good. Silver chains draped across his chest, the open black blazer showing just enough skin to make knees buckle, his hair styled back but a few strands rebelliously falling forward. You sipped your drink, half listening to the screaming around you. If only your coworkers at the hospital could see him now. Confident, clean, seductive, the kind of controlled performance that made everyone pay attention.

Seonghwa didn’t beg for the spotlight. He commanded it. He hit every beat with sharp precision, giving attention to each side of the stage, a knowing smirk curling his lips. Until he found you. Your eyes widened a little as he walked toward your side of the stage, fingers tracing his chest before he pointed directly at you, hips grinding to the beat. You groaned and laughed, covering your face for a second before looking back up at him with a smirk, mouthing, “You’re ridiculous.” Seonghwa winked and didn’t break rhythm for a second.

“Someone’s enjoying herself.” Wooyoung was peeking out from the side curtain, chin resting on Mingi’s shoulder, both of them hidden in the shadows just past the curtain near the stage entrance. Mingi didn’t say a word. He was standing like stone, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes locked on you. You, in that dress. You, laughing and glowing and completely unaware that you were slowly ruining him. Wooyoung whistled low and let out a chuckle. “Goddamn… if you don’t finally make a move tonight, San and I will.” Mingi didn’t blink. Didn’t look away. Didn’t even breathe. And Wooyoung, always a menace, grinned. “You’re on next, lover boy. Better figure it out quick. I don’t think that dress is gonna last the night.” Seonghwa’s performance ended to deafening cheers, the crowd still buzzing as the lights shifted and another playlist took over the speakers for the brief intermission. You clapped and whooped with the rest of them, smiling when Seonghwa blew a kiss toward the audience before disappearing behind the curtain.

You needed a drink. Not just because it was hot in here, not just because Seonghwa had turned the place into a damn sauna, but because the momentary flutter in your chest, the one you really didn’t want to acknowledge, was starting to feel familiar. You weaved your way toward the bar, still getting looks. A few women gave polite smiles. A few didn’t bother hiding the fact they were sizing you up. The bartender handed you your drink, vodka soda, extra lime, and you sipped slowly, watching some of the staff rearrange props on stage for the next set. You’d just started heading toward the back when the line for the restroom came into view, and you groaned. Of course. You took another sip and slipped into the hallway anyway, heels clicking softly against the dark floor. It was quieter back here, the sound of music muffled by the heavy curtain and door. You were mid scroll on your phone, waiting for the next stall, when you saw her. Daphne. She was across the hall, leaning against the wall by the lounge door, laughing at something on her phone. She hadn’t changed much. And even if you hadn’t clocked the flirty body language and the way her lipstick was too perfectly smudged, you’d know that face anywhere. Because it was her. The girl you’d walked in on with Mingi.

You took another slow sip of your drink, shoulders straightening, not meaning to eavesdrop. You were just waiting your turn for the restroom, but then she laughed, a sharp, airy little thing, and it drew your attention before you could help it. She’d been joined by two other women, both dolled up in the kind of designer clubwear that screamed I’m not here for drinks, I’m here for backstage. You couldn’t help the sideways glance as Daphne sighed dramatically. “I swear to god, he gets hotter every time I see him,” she said, tossing her hair back like she was still center stage. One of the other girls giggled. “You mean Mingi?” Daphne rolled her eyes. “Who else? That man could make me forget my own name. I swear, if he so much as glanced at me tonight, I’d be backstage with my legs in the air before he finishes his set.” That earned a chorus of laughs from the others. “He’s got that energy,” another one chimed in. “Like, the moment he touches you, you know. I still think about that one night….. his hands? Unreal.”

“Please, I could still feel him the next morning,” Daphne said, sipping her drink with a smug tilt of her lips. “He knows what he’s doing. Doesn’t rush. Doesn’t talk much, either. Just grabs your throat and owns you.” Your stomach tightened, a strange, cold twist curling low. You took a slow breath, steadying yourself. It didn’t matter. They could talk about the way he fucked them all they wanted. What you had with Mingi was different. It had always been different. Still, you couldn’t help the small flicker of something in your chest, some stubborn, possessive ember sparking in the dark. You made quick haste in using the restroom before sliding back into your seat, smoothing your hands down your thighs, trying to push the unease out of your chest. The voices from the bathroom still lingered, too clear to forget. Daphne’s obnoxious giggle, one of the other girls saying something about how fast he always pulled her into his lap, and someone else laughing, “Mingi’s a slut, but like, in a fun way.” You knew better. You’d known him since you were thirteen. You’d seen every version of him, from the awkward middle schooler who used to trip over his own feet to the man now regularly grinding on stage under heavy lights. But that didn’t make it sting any less.

You crossed your legs, sitting straighter, chin up like you weren’t affected at all, even though your stomach still felt off as the lights dimmed suddenly, shifting the attention back to the stage, and the low thrum of bass pulsed through the club. Hongjoong’s voice came over the mic, smoother than the whiskey he drank. “Alright, alright… try to keep your hands to yourself for this next one. You know who he is.” A moment of silence passed, followed by a mischievous grin. “And judging by how loud some of you get when he so much as breathes…. yeah, I know you know.” The crowd laughed, whistles already rising. You blinked, heart kicking a little harder despite everything. “Put your hands together for the one and only…. MINGI!” The lights exploded in a rush of violet and gold as the music shifted. And there he was. Mingi barely looked at the crowd when he stepped out…. except for the split second his eyes found yours. A quick glance. But it landed like a punch to the chest. No wink. No smirk this time. Just that unreadable look that made it impossible to tell if he was affected by your presence… or trying hard not to be. The music started slow, deep bass with a teasing rhythm, and the screams erupted around you, the kind of shrieking only Mingi’s hips could cause. You swallowed thickly, crossing your legs tighter as he started moving, rolling his shoulders and swaying to the beat with that devastating ease he was known for.

You tried. You really tried not to stare. He was your best friend. He was also wearing pants that looked spray painted on. And you were only human. Your gaze flicked away, anywhere else, anyone else. But of course, it landed on her. Daphne. And her little fan club. Clustered just a few seats down, leaning forward in their chairs like they were watching their favorite scene in a movie. Daphne had one hand resting under her chin, eyes locked on Mingi’s chest like she already had plans for it, while one of her friends whispered something and giggled behind her hand. Jealousy rose in your throat like smoke. Stupid. Stupid. You had no right to be jealous. You weren’t his girlfriend. You’d never even kissed him. But you had seen the way he used to smile at you in high school when no one else got him. You had been the first one to know about his audition. The first to hug him when he got the job. The one who helped him with his first eyeliner wing and teased him for crying during Pixar movies. And now here he was, grinding on stage in front of everyone. Including them.

You blinked hard, forcing your eyes back to the stage as he dropped to his knees and ran one hand up the inside of his thigh, his mouth parted just slightly like he knew exactly what he was doing. No. No, you were not going to fall into the Mingi trap again tonight. Even if you already had. The second verse hit, and the lights dimmed to a smoky red, casting long shadows over Mingi’s body as he stalked down the stage with slow, deliberate steps. His eyes swept over the crowd like a predator picking his target, and you felt your breath catch when, just for a second, they landed on you again but he didn’t do anything. He just kept going. There was something different tonight. His usual energy was there, the raw confidence, the way his body moved like he knew it was a weapon, but he wasn’t pushing it as hard as he usually did. He wasn’t playing up to the crowd, no shirt ripping dramatics, no licking his fingers before dragging them down his chest. It was… restrained. Controlled. Almost like he didn’t want to give it all away. Still, the screams got louder when he rolled his hips in time with the beat, running one hand through his hair and letting his head tip back. His shirt was already long gone, tossed somewhere into the lights during the first chorus, and now his hands moved to the buckle of his belt, slow and showy but still somehow not cocky.

You caught your bottom lip between your teeth as the pants hit the floor. Black underwear. Tight. Low. Dangerous. Your heart pounded in your ears. The club was electric. One of the girls near Daphne squealed, clutching the other’s arm, while Daphne herself sat there smugly, eyes dragging up Mingi’s thighs like she owned them. You had to look away. You had to. But your eyes didn’t listen. Mingi moved to the edge of the stage, kneeling at the end of it, sweat glistening down his chest as the music hit a low, pulsing bridge. His hands slid slowly down the tops of his thighs, just barely skimming over the elastic of his underwear, and he let the tension sit there, soaking into the air like heat. You couldn’t breathe. Couldn’t think. And he hadn’t even touched himself yet. Because he was holding back. He wasn’t here to blow the crowd away tonight. He wasn’t here for the loudest cheers or the biggest tips. He wasn’t performing like a man who wanted the world’s attention. He was performing like a man who already knew exactly whose attention he had. And he was being careful with it.

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Backstage was chaos. Sweat, laughter, leftover glitter, the low buzz of someone’s portable speaker still playing the tail end of the track Mingi had just walked off to. But he didn’t really hear it. His pulse was still racing, muscles tight, lungs catching on a breath that had nothing to do with dancing as he ran a towel down his chest, flinching a little when the fabric passed over the still damp waistband of his underwear. God. He barely remembered stepping off stage. His mind was stuck on the time your eyes locked with his….. “Mingi!” Wooyoung’s voice cut through the noise like a shot. “You good? Or did someone forget it was Seonghwa’s birthday?”

Mingi blinked. “What?” Wooyoung crossed his arms, tilting his head with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. “That performance? That was, like, 70 percent. Maybe 75 if I’m being generous.”

“I hit every step,” Mingi muttered, still towel drying his hair like it would help him avoid this conversation. “Yeah, yeah, the steps were there. But the filth? The drama? The tongue and hand action?” Wooyoung held up his fingers like a checklist. “Gone. Missing. On vacation.” Mingi threw the towel at his face. “Get out of my business.”

“I would…. if your business wasn’t being all tense because a certain someone’s sitting out there looking like a sin in heels and barely even glancing your way.” Mingi froze. “She glanced.”

“Oh, she glanced,” Wooyoung agreed with a smirk. “But the other girls? They drooled. And you didn’t even give them a good reason to.” Mingi dragged a hand down his face with a frustrated sigh, ignoring the heat curling in his chest. “It’s Seonghwa’s night.” Wooyoung grinned. “Exactly! Which means you should’ve been out there slutting it up in his honor.” He threw a dramatic hand to his chest. “Instead, you came off like a sad stripper who’s in love with his best friend but trying to hide it by pretending he’s not thinking about her in that tiny black dress.” Mingi narrowed his eyes. “That was weirdly specific.” Wooyoung gave him a slow blink. “Am I wrong?” Mingi didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. Because Wooyoung already knew.

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The final song boomed through the club, the kind of bass heavy anthem that had drinks sloshing, phones up, and the floor vibrating with heat and sweat. San and Wooyoung had just finished their performance with the kind of chaos only they could pull off together, shirts missing, glitter somehow everywhere, Wooyoung mouthing something obscene into a camera someone definitely had on him. The rest of the guys had joined them on stage, shirtless, glistening, hyped, all of them catching their breath as Hongjoong stepped forward with a mic and that dangerous glint in his eye again. “Alright, alright!” he yelled, breathless, cheeks flushed from champagne and adrenaline. “It’s that time again….. lap dance giveaway!” The crowd screamed. Phones shot higher. Someone whistled so loud Hongjoong flinched. “So here’s how it works,” he grinned, gesturing behind him. “All our lovely dancers are up here. But you, the audience, get to vote who gives the final lap dance of the night!” The crowd erupted into cheers again, hands shooting up, chants starting. Names were shouted, screamed, begged for, Seonghwa, San, Wooyoung, Yeosang. But then someone yelled Mingi’s name. Then someone else. And another. Until it turned into a wave. “Mingi! Mingi! Mingi!”

“Alright!” Seonghwa suddenly cut in, grabbing the mic from Hongjoong. His voice was full of playful command. “It’s my birthday, which means I get to pick who the lucky recipient is.” That brought fresh noise from the audience, whooping in anticipation as Seonghwa turned in a slow circle, gaze sweeping the room like a spotlight until it landed on you. He didn’t say your name. Didn’t need to. Because every single person in the room watched his eyes land on you. Watched that wicked birthday smirk spread across his face. “I pick…” he said, pausing for dramatic effect, still staring dead at you, “her.” The spotlight followed his gaze, landing on your stunned, wide eyed face as Wooyoung literally turned around on stage, hand clamped over his mouth, his whole body shaking with silent laughter. Because your expression? Stunned. Borderline panicked. And Mingi? He looked like he’d just been told to walk a tightrope over a pit of lava with you on the other end. “Oh, this is so much better than cake,” Wooyoung wheezed under his breath, turning just enough to glance back at the two of you. “Happy fucking birthday, Seonghwa.”

San’s hand was warm as it wrapped around your wrist, pulling you to your feet before your brain could even catch up to what was happening. “Come on,” he grinned, voice low in your ear. “Don’t make me carry you.” Your legs moved on autopilot, your heart slamming behind your ribs as the crowd parted and Yeosang appeared like some smug ass magician with a sleek black chair, placing it center stage with a little bow like tada. Your knees nearly gave out when San guided you to sit. The spotlight was on you, heat prickling down your spine, adrenaline crashing through your bloodstream. Somewhere in the fog of music and shock, you became vaguely aware of more movement behind you. A couple of the club staff were rolling out a cart with a glowing birthday cake lit up in white and gold, sparklers shooting off on either side with Seonghwa’s name scrawled across the top in elegant frosting. You could barely register the cake though. Because your eyes found Mingi. He hadn’t moved. He was standing off to the side, jaw locked, eyes dark, arms loose at his sides like he was trying so hard not to look at you but failing miserably.

And then he did look at you and it was like the whole club disappeared. Every person, every scream, every spotlight. Just his eyes on you as your thighs clenched automatically under his gaze, heat crawling up your neck because fuck, your best friend was about to give you a lap dance. In front of everyone. At Seonghwa’s birthday show. With Daphne still watching. And you still weren’t sure if this was a dream or a fever or both as Mingi finally moved and stepped in front of you, and for a moment… he didn’t move. His hand flexed at his side. His jaw clenched. The song pulsed through the air, but he stayed frozen, just looking at you like you were a loaded gun aimed right at his chest. You tilted your head, a teasing smile trying to save you both from this moment, from whatever this was turning into. But Mingi didn’t smile back. He exhaled through his nose, low and slow, and finally stepped closer and the screams got louder. But you could barely hear them. All you saw was Mingi, hesitant, trying to remember how to perform when his best friend was the one looking up at him in that dress, legs parted now just enough to flash bare thigh under the dim red lighting. He moved to the beat, slow, calculated, his fingers dragging across his chest, down the sculpted lines of his stomach. But it was cautious, more controlled than usual. Like he was holding back. Because he was. This wasn’t just a show anymore. This was you. And Mingi didn’t know how the hell he was supposed to pretend anymore.

Each step was perfectly timed, but you knew him, knew when his movements were real and when he was playing a part. And this? This was him half there, his body moving on autopilot, hips swaying gently as he circled behind you. The crowd didn’t care though, they were eating it up either way, but you felt it. That barely there tension in his hands as they hovered just above your shoulders. The stutter in his breath as he leaned in, but didn’t touch. It was the hesitation of a man trying not to cross a line he’d drawn for himself a long time ago. But then your hand lifted. Just a little as you reached behind you and placed it lightly on his thigh. And that was it. That was all it took. Mingi snapped. The second your hand pressed against his leg, his hands dropped to your shoulders, firm now, grounding himself on you as his body rolled into yours from behind like instinct had taken over, dragging his hips against the back of the chair, down the curve of your spine as the crowd screamed louder, but it sounded distant to you still, muffled beneath the rush of blood in your ears as Mingi’s hands slid down your arms, gripping your wrists gently and placing them on his chest as he stepped around to face you. His eyes locked with yours, full of something raw and deep and buried far too long. You didn’t even know where to put your hands until he guided them, keeping his over yours as he rolled his hips forward, grinding down just slow enough to feel obscene and your legs fell open allowing his knee to push between them. And when the chorus of Happy Birthday to you hit Seonghwa’s name, Mingi dropped it low.

One of his hands braced on your thigh, the other sliding up the back of your neck, fingers threading into your hair as he rocked his body into yours like he wasn’t surrounded by people, like you were the only one in the room. Because to him, you were. And Seonghwa, bless him, just laughed, clapping along, fully aware his birthday performance had officially been hijacked by a man realizing far too late that he he should of said too long ago that he was in love with his best friend. The music pulsed louder now, slower and dirtier, like it knew what was happening. And so did he. Mingi didn’t hesitate anymore. His hands, once careful, once unsure, were everywhere now. Gripping your waist, skimming your hips, dragging up your sides like he had permission now. Like he’d finally allowed himself to stop pretending this didn’t mean something. And you weren’t any better. Your fingers slid up his chest, nails grazing the skin at his waist as your head tipped back, eyes half lidded as you let him move against you. Let him show you exactly how good his body could feel pressed this close, this tight, this intentional. It wasn’t a performance anymore. Not really. It was foreplay. The way he rolled his hips, slow, deep, then faster, grinding into your inner thigh like he needed the friction. The way your nails dug into his back, pulling him down just enough that your lips brushed his jaw. You weren’t even thinking anymore, just feeling. The scent of his cologne, the heat of his skin, the way the room spun a little every time his hand gripped your thigh and squeezed. And the crowd? Still singing. Still cheering. But quieter now. Because something was happening on stage they weren’t meant to see as Mingi leaned in, his mouth grazing your ear as his breath fanned hot across your neck. “You look like a fucking dream in this dress,” he murmured, voice low, hoarse, possessive. “You know that?” Your breath caught as you looked up at him, your best friend. Your Mingi. Except not the same Mingi you knew. This was the one who couldn’t hold back anymore as his hand slid between your thighs, not quite touching, but just hovering, the ghost of contact making your whole body ache and your thighs to press together, chest rising, eyes locked with his right as the final beat hit.

Then the music ended and the lights dimmed. And for just one breathless moment, the two of you stood frozen in the silence. Mingi’s hand still on your thigh caught between the clench of them, heat pulsing between you like the crowd never existed. The spell didn’t break until San whooped and slapped Mingi on the back like he hadn’t just dry humped his best friend in front of the entire club. Laughter exploded around the room, cake was smeared across Seonghwa’s cheek, but Mingi didn’t laugh as he looked at you. And you knew…. he felt it too. That nothing between you would ever be the same after tonight.

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The bar glowed in warm amber light, crowded but cozy, the bass of the music low enough to talk over, the laughter loud enough to ignore the awkward silences. You were still buzzing from the show, from the attention, from Mingi’s hands on you. But now, seated across from him at the long booth table, all that heat had simmered down to a prickling awareness. Every time you looked up, he was already looking at you. Every time he looked away, you wanted to ask why. But neither of you said a word. Wooyoung, of course, had no such filter. “Okay, okay…. but remember when Hongjoong walked in on me and San with that guy backstage?” he grinned, already snorting into his drink before the story even started. “Like pants around ankles, San’s hand halfway to heaven, and Joong just… deadpan. Completely dead inside.” Yeosang choked on his beer as San just threw a napkin at him. “You promised you’d never bring that up again.” Wooyoung sing songed. “Oops,” Seonghwa leaned over, grinning lazily. “Honestly, I’m just mad I missed it.” They all laughed as Wooyoung looked to you and Mingi with a devious look. “What about you two? You ever accidentally walk in on each other?” You felt your heart stop for a second as Mingi shook his head. “No,” he said instantly, like it was a dumb question. “Never.” You hesitated. It was maybe half a second but Mingi noticed. Wooyoung noticed too, but he just raised a brow and took another sip, letting the silence stretch. “Wait,” Mingi said slowly, leaning forward a little. “Why’d you pause?”

You looked at him, really looked at him. And maybe it was the lingering jealousy. Maybe it was the feel of his hands on your thighs still haunting you. Or maybe it was just time. You set your drink down carefully and met his eyes. “A year ago,” you said, voice calm. “I came home…. You were…on the couch.” His brows pinched together for half a second. “Wait…. what?” You took a long sip of your drink, eyes fixed on the amber liquid. “You were on the couch. With Daphne.” The name hit the table like a dropped glass. Yeosang’s chewing stopped. San blinked. Seonghwa looked between you and Mingi like he was watching the opening act to a car crash as Mingi sat back slightly. “You never said anything.” You met his gaze. “What would I have said? Hey, saw you getting rode last night, looked busy?” Wooyoung snorted hard. “Oh my god. You’ve been holding onto that?” You smiled, but it didn’t reach your eyes. “Wasn’t exactly something I wanted to remember.” Mingi’s jaw clenched. “You… how long were you there?” You shrugged not meeting his eyes. “Long enough.” It was quiet for a long moment before Seonghwa raised his glass with a smirk. “Happy birthday to me. Damn.” The table chuckled. But Mingi’s gaze didn’t leave you. You didn’t say anything else. Just slid out of the booth and made your way toward the bar, your dress hugging every curve like it knew Mingi was watching. Because he was. Everyone was. But he looked wrecked, jaw set, brow furrowed, eyes tracking you like you might disappear if he blinked.

“Bro.” Mingi didn’t look away from where you stood now, leaning your elbows on the bar. Wooyoung leaned in, voice louder this time. “Bro.” Mingi blinked, barely glancing at him. “What?” Wooyoung leaned across the table like Mingi was two seconds from being smacked upside the head, “you practically fucked her onstage. I had to turn around.” Mingi ran a hand down his face, groaning. “I didn’t mean for it to go that far.” Yeosang snorted into his drink. “Yes you did. Now you’re just too scared to do anything about it.” Silence settled for another moment before Mingi stood and the rest of the guys just watched him go, heads tilted like they were watching a soap opera in real time as Wooyoung raised his glass. “Godspeed, idiot.” You were mid laugh, fingers lightly curled around the straw of your drink as the bartender leaned just a little closer than necessary. “On the house,” he said smoothly, sliding you another cocktail you hadn’t asked for. “Pretty girls shouldn’t have to pay.” You were about to respond, something between polite and dismissive, when a body moved in behind you, warm and familiar, towering enough that the bartender’s cocky grin faltered.

“Didn’t know we were offering free drinks for anyone,” Mingi said, voice calm but edged. His hand slid along the bar beside yours, not touching you but close enough your breath caught as the bartender gave a chuckle. “Club policy for regulars.” Mingi tilted his head. “She’s not a regular.” You finally turned your head, trying not to look startled by how close he was. “Hey.” He looked at you, not the bartender. “Hey.” The air shifted. Dense. Charged. “I was just…” you started, but the bartender cut in. “She was telling me about a cake. Big party. You guys always go this hard?” Mingi didn’t smile. “Only when it matters.” His eyes dropped to the drink the bartender had slid over to you. “You sure you want that one?” You raised a brow. “It’s just a drink.” Mingi stepped a little closer. His chest almost brushing your back. “Some drinks have strings.” You felt the words low in your stomach as the bartender, sensing the tension, awkwardly wiped his hands on a bar towel. “I’ll, uh… check on the other side.” Mingi nodded. “Good idea,” he said flatly but he didn’t move even after the guy disappeared down the bar. You turned to face him fully, chin lifted “Subtle. You just scared off the bartender.” Mingi shrugged like he didn’t care. “He was flirting with you.” You snorted. “I know.” Mingi stepped closer, crowding into your space like he had every right to be there. “And you were flirting back.” You swallowed hard, your voice a little softer now. “What if I was?” His eyes dropped to your lips. “Then I guess I’m done pretending to be just your best friend.”

You stared at him, heart stuttering in your chest like it couldn’t decide whether to leap or freeze. “What?” The word came out small, not because you didn’t hear him but because it hit you like a damn freight train. Mingi didn’t move, didn’t blink, didn’t try to play it off. There was a pause thick enough to cut, bass from the music thumping through the floor beneath your heels, laughter echoing from the other side of the bar, none of it touching the two of you though as he said it, voice low and rough at the edges, “Best friends don’t look at each other the way we did tonight.” Your breath caught. He wasn’t smiling. There was no teasing in his eyes. Just truth. Hot, heavy, terrifying truth. “You wanna go home?” It was simple. But it wasn’t. Because home didn’t mean your shared apartment anymore. It didn’t mean crashing on the couch with takeout and reruns of shitty reality shows. It didn’t mean what it usually did. Not tonight. Tonight, it meant crossing a line you’d both been toeing for years. You stared at him, pulse thudding in your throat like it was trying to answer for you. “Yeah,” you said softly, throat dry. “Let’s go.” Mingi nodded, sharp, determined, and gently took the drink from your hand to set it on the bar behind you, fingers brushing yours, just barely, but it was enough to ignite sparks that raced up your spine. You didn’t even look back as he led you toward the door.

Seonghwa, still nursing a half melted cocktail, watched with narrowed eyes before smirking around the rim of his glass. He set it down with a little clink and looked at the rest of the guys. “Finally,” he muttered, like he’d just won a long running bet with the universe. Yeosang grinned. Wooyoung practically choked on his drink and leaned into San as the doors opened and in walked Daphne with two friends flanking her like backup singers. She spotted Mingi immediately, a slow smirk curling on her face. “Well, well,” she purred, walking right into his path, tilting her head. “Didn’t expect to see you leaving so early…” Mingi didn’t even break stride. He didn’t even look at her. He just tightened his grip on your hand and led you straight past her like she was nothing but background noise.

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The door clicked shut behind you, the quiet thud echoing through the apartment louder than it should have. Neither of you said a word as you toed off your shoes slowly, one heel, then the other, the soft tap of them hitting the floor sounding way too intimate in the silence. Mingi did the same, shrugging out of his jacket and draping it over the back of the couch, his eyes never once leaving you. The room felt heavier now. Warmer. You stood there, still dressed like temptation, your chest rising and falling just a little faster than usual as Mingi’s jaw twitched, watching you, like he was trying to keep a leash on something, something coiled deep and tense behind his eyes. “Nineteen,” Mingi finally said, voice low, like it physically hurt to get the word out. His eyes didn’t waver. “Nineteen. We were nineteen when I realized I was in love with you.” Your breath stuttered. “Eight years,” he went on, stepping closer, slowly, like he was afraid if he rushed it, you’d disappear. “Eight years pretending I didn’t want you. Eight years burying myself in other people, eyes closed, pretending it was you.” You swallowed hard, heart thudding, knees wobbling slightly from the weight of his confession as Mingi let out a shaky laugh, no humor in it. “This dress,” he murmured, gaze dropping for the briefest second before dragging back to your face. “First time you wore it, I left my own birthday party. Because if I didn’t, I was gonna drag you into the back room and rip it off you.” You stood there stunned, lips parted, head spinning. And Mingi? He just looked like a man who’d finally stopped running.

Your lips parted, breath shaky. “Do it. Mingi blinked, confused. “What?” You stepped forward, slowly, your eyes locked on his. “Rip the dress off me.” For a second, he didn’t move, like he was trying to make sure you really said it, like maybe his mind was playing tricks on him. But then his jaw clenched, nostrils flared, and something in his expression shifted, snapped. “You…” he started, voice cracking. “You can’t say shit like that unless you mean it.” You didn’t hesitate. “I do.” Mingi surged forward, grabbing you and crashing his mouth onto yours like he’d finally lost the battle with himself. His hands cupped your face at first, tender despite the heat between you, lips hungry and frantic as years of tension detonated all at once. You clutched at his shirt, pulling him closer, the kiss turning messy, deeper, desperate. When you gasped into his mouth, his hands dropped, skimming down your body until they gripped your hips tight and he pulled back, just enough to look at you, his breath ragged. “Last chance,” he whispered. “Tell me to stop, and I will.” But you didn’t. Instead, you slid his hand up the side of your dress, resting it right at the seam with your thigh, and whispered, “Rip it.” His fingers curled into the fabric, and with one hard pull, the dress tore with a sharp rrrrip, seams splitting clean down the back. It slid from your shoulders like it had been waiting to fall off you, pooling around your feet as the air hit your bare skin and his eyes darkened, swallowing the sight of you whole as he stood there, chest heaving, his gaze devouring every inch of you like he was seeing you for the first time, not his best friend in a towel, not the girl who’s lived in oversized shirts and underwear on lazy Sundays, not the one he’s caught glimpses of a hundred times in shared spaces and never touched.

This was you. Naked, save for the thin scrap of panties clinging to your hips. Wanting him. And he was completely undone. “Fuck,” he muttered, voice low, reverent, almost in disbelief. “You’re gonna ruin me.” He wrapped his arms around your thighs and lifted you effortlessly, your legs instinctively hooking around his waist as his mouth found your breast the moment you were against him, hot and hungry, tongue dragging over your nipple before he sucked it into his mouth. One hand held you firm while the other palmed up your spine, fingers splaying against your skin like he needed to memorize the shape of you. You gasped, your hand tangling in his short hair as his teeth grazed your nipple. He didn’t stop walking. He carried you down the hallway, dimly lit by the soft glow of the living room behind you. He passed his room and paused in front of your door before kicked it open gently, not even looking, his focus locked entirely on the way your body trembled in his arms, the way your breath hitched every time his mouth moved. He lowered you onto your bed like he was setting something sacred down, carefully, slowly, even though his chest was tight and his pulse wild. His mouth never left your skin, lips still wrapped around your breast, tongue swirling as he sucked and teased. The second your back hit the mattress, he settled between your legs, one arm braced beside you while the other slid down, tracing your side, your hip, dragging goosebumps in his wake.

You arched into him when his hand finally slipped between your thighs and the soft, wrecked sound that escaped him when he felt how wet you were….. “Shit…” he groaned against your chest, breath hot. “You’re soaked.” His fingers teased over the damp fabric, tracing you slowly, reverently, like he was still trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. Then he pressed down just enough to make your hips twitch and pulled his mouth from your breast to look up at you. “All that… from me?” he murmured, voice low and dark. “From that dance? From touching you?” A moan escaped you as you met his gaze. “Both,” you whispered, breath hitching and Mingi groaned like it punched the air from his lungs, raw and low in his throat. His fingers curled into your panties, dragging them down just enough, his gaze flicking between your face and where his hand disappeared. “You’re killing me,” he muttered, voice rough, almost pained. And then, finally, his fingers slid through your folds, slow and teasing, gathering your wetness before pushing inside. “Fuck,” he hissed, head dropping to your chest as he curled his fingers and felt you clench around him. “You feel like this for me? All night?” You nodded, your fingers threading through his hair, your thighs parting wider as your hips tilted to chase the pressure as he started moving them, slow at first, deep, curling with every stroke as your body arched under him. “Mingi,” you gasped, and he shuddered, biting down gently on your breast as he pumped his fingers faster. “Say it again,” he growled.

You grabbed his jaw, hard enough that his lips parted, his eyes snapping to yours like you’d just yanked a leash. “Fuck me with your fingers,” you ordered, dragging his face closer, your thighs tightening around his wrist. “Make me come like I’ve wanted you to for years.” Mingi’s eyes darkened, and something unholy snapped behind them. He growled, a sound from deep in his chest and then his mouth was on your neck, teeth scraping skin as his fingers slammed back into you, no more teasing, no more hesitation. He curled them hard, rough, filthy and perfect, pumping into you with the kind of rhythm that made your hips lift and your moans fall apart. “Like this?” he rasped into your throat. “Is this how you want it?” You barely managed a nod before your back arched off the bed, your nails raking down his arm, every nerve ending on fire. And he wasn’t stopping. Not until you screamed for him. Your fingers dove into his hair again, tugging hard enough to make him groan against your skin as you yanked his head back just enough to meet his eyes, eyes that were already glassy with lust, lips slick from the path they’d traced across your chest. “Don’t stop,” you panted, grinding down against his hand, riding his fingers like you owned them. “Fuck…. just like that, Mingi. God, you feel so fucking good… why the hell did we wait so long?” Your voice was wrecked, dripping filth and fire, every word going straight to his already aching dick. He swore under his breath, low and guttural, his jaw clenching as your wetness coated his hand and wrist. “You have no idea,” he growled, fingers curling harder, deeper. “You have no idea what you’re doing to me right now.” You leaned in, lips brushing his as you whispered, “Then shut up and ruin me.”

Mingi’s whole body tensed, he was gone. Absolutely gone. Nothing about this was best friends anymore. Nothing about this was safe. Not with you saying things like that, not with your body soaked and begging for him, not with the way your thighs were trembling around his wrist as your orgasm started to crest. He’d never been more turned on in his life. “Fuck,” He groaned, voice wrecked as he watched you tremble around his fingers. He couldn’t take it, couldn’t take you like this, soaked, panting, eyes glazed over with need and begging for more. He pulled his fingers out slow, slick dripping down his knuckles, and you whined at the sudden emptiness. But before you could even finish the sound, he was already dropping between your thighs. “Spread for me,” he muttered, breath hot against your core as he hooked his hands under your knees and pushed them wide. Then his mouth was on you. Hot, hungry and possessive. His tongue slid through your folds like he’d been starving for you, moaning into you as if he’d just tasted salvation. He sucked your clit into his mouth, slow at first, teasing the way he knew would drive you insane and when you gasped and tried to grind into his face, he growled, locking your hips down with his arms. You could feel how messy it was, his spit, your arousal, his tongue working like he was trying to memorize every part of you. And the worst part? He wasn’t stopping. He wasn’t giving you room to breathe. “Mingi…” you gasped, thighs shaking, hands flying back to his hair. But he still didn’t let up. He just moaned again, eyes dark and locked on yours from between your legs as he devoured you like he was never letting you go.

Your fingers tightened in his hair, both hands gripping as you ground yourself against his mouth, chasing every wicked flick of his tongue. You could feel him moan into you again and again, deep and guttural, the sound vibrating against your clit as your hips rolled harder. “Just like that…. fuck, Mingi, don’t stop…. your mouth feels so fucking good,” you gasped, voice breathy. “Always wondered how that pretty mouth would feel between my thighs…. look at you, baby, making me so goddamn wet.” Mingi let out a desperate sound at that, eyes fluttering shut as his grip on your thighs tightened. You felt him rock forward slightly, and when you glanced down, the sight had you gasping all over again. He was rutting against the bed. Still fully clothed, still eating you out like it was the only thing keeping him alive as his hips grounded down into the mattress, trying to get even the smallest bit of friction as he moaned with every move you made. Your back arched, hands fisting tighter in his hair. “Fuck, you’re gonna make yourself come like that?” you whispered, completely wrecked. “Humping the bed like a needy little thing while your tongue’s buried in my pussy?” His growl vibrated right through you and somehow, impossibly, he started devouring you even harder before he pulled back just long enough to catch his breath, lips slick and swollen, the look in his eyes feral. You were trembling beneath him, but it didn’t stop him, his fingers slipped right back in, two thrusting deep into your soaked heat while his thumb dragged slow, tight circles over your clit. You barely had time to gasp before he added pressure, angling just right…. and then you felt it. A smaller finger, his pinky, teasing your other hole. “Mingi…. fuck…”

“I got you,” he whispered, voice ragged with need, “I got you, baby, just feel me.” It was overwhelming, his fingers stroking deep, his thumb rubbing perfectly, his pinky pushing in so carefully it made your whole body jolt. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think, only chase the high he was pulling from you so ruthlessly. You reached for him without thinking, fingers tangling in his hair again, dragging him up to crash your mouth into his. It was messy, all tongue and teeth, but it grounded you just enough right before it hit. Your whole body tensed as you came hard, crying out against his mouth, your thighs clamping around his hand as you squirted, soaking him, the sheets, everything and Mingi moaned into the kiss, swallowing every sound you made as he worked you through it, eyes wide like he couldn’t believe what he just did to you. Like he wanted, needed, more. He barely had time to catch his breath again before you shoved at his chest, pushing him back until he sat at the edge of the bed, hands bracing behind him, chest rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon. “Strip.” Your voice was low, wrecked, but laced with command making him blink once, then grinned, slow and sinful. The kind of grin that always came out on stage when the beat dropped and the lights hit just right. Except now it was for you and only you. “After all,” he murmured, fingers already moving to the hem of his shirt, “it’s my job, isn’t it?” You didn’t answer. You didn’t have to. Because Mingi was already peeling his shirt up over his head, revealing that strong, lean torso you’d seen a thousand times but never like this. Never with that fire in his eyes, never with your slick still glistening on his fingers. His pants followed, slow and deliberate, teasing. And when they hit the floor, and he stood there in nothing but tight black briefs, hard and straining, the outline of him unmistakable, you couldn’t help the way your legs shifted restlessly on the sheets. “Tell me,” he said, voice a little breathless, “do I take these off too, or do you want to do it?”

You slid off the bed, the air thick between you as you sank to your knees in front of him. Mingi stood there, chest rising, lips parted, watching your every move as your fingers hooked into the waistband of his briefs, and he let out a shaky breath, hips twitching forward before he caught himself. You dragged the fabric down slowly, his briefs slipping past his hips, your eyes widening just slightly because he was big. Thick, heavy, already flushed and twitching, curving just a little toward his stomach. The kind of big that made your mouth water and your thighs press together. “Fuck,” you whispered without thinking. Your hand wrapped firmly around the base of him, and when you looked up, your voice was low, teasing and daring. “You’ve thought about this, haven’t you?” Mingi’s breath stuttered. His hands clenched at his sides like he didn’t know what to do with them. His mouth opened but nothing came out at first, just a flush creeping up his neck, dark and undeniable. “Yeah.” His voice was hoarse, nearly a groan. “So many fucking times.” You tilted your head, your grip giving just the slightest squeeze, and his abs tensed. “Show me how much,” you whispered. “Show me everything you’ve been holding back.” Mingi’s hand slid up, fingers curling under your chin as he tilted your face up to meet his gaze. “Open,” he said, voice low and wrecked. And you didn’t hesitate, just smirked, lips parting slowly, eyes locked on his as your tongue teased the air between you. The sound he made was pure sin, one of his hands bracing atop your head as the other guided himself to your mouth, slow and deliberate. He let the tip brush your bottom lip, and your tongue flicked against it, dragging a ragged groan from his chest. “Fuck,” he breathed, as he began to slowly push in, the heat of your mouth making his jaw clench, every muscle in his body drawn tight with restraint. You started slow, the heat of your mouth wrapping around him as your tongue teased lazy circles. Mingi’s hand twitched at his side, fighting the urge to grab your hair, his breath already uneven. “Don’t do that,” he muttered, voice gravel. “Don’t tease…” But you didn’t listen. You sank down just a little more, then pulled back with a filthy pop, smirking up at him like you had all the time in the world. Like you weren’t seconds away from wrecking him. And then you hollowed your cheeks and the groan that ripped out of Mingi’s chest was downright desperate as you took more of him, hands sliding up to grip his thighs for leverage. You let your nails dig in just enough to make him twitch, then started moving, slow, controlled strokes at first, lips gliding, tongue working every inch of him with practiced ease.

“Shit,” he breathed, his hand finally tangling in your hair. “You…. fuck, baby…” But you had control now. And you didn’t let up. You looked up at him with glassy eyes, mouth full of him, and let him see the exact moment you relaxed your throat and pushed deeper, your grip on his thighs tightening as you urged him to move. And he did. Thrust by slow, shaking thrust, Mingi began to fuck into your mouth, his rhythm building as you moaned around him, the sound sending shivers up his spine. His other hand joined the first in your hair, voice broken as he whispered your name like a curse and a prayer all at once as you moaned around him, the vibration making his knees nearly give out. His grip tightened in your hair as he rutted into your mouth, breath ragged, jaw slack. You let him use you, let him fall apart like he had no control left, taking him deep, your moans growing louder, wetter, filthier. He was close. Too close. And then he groaned, a rough, strangled sound, and pulled out, chest heaving, dick glistening as it twitched in the air between you. “Fuck…” he looked down at you like he didn’t know whether to drop to his knees or throw you onto the bed and ruin you. “Not yet.” His voice was thick. “Wanna be inside you when I come.” He reached down and pulled you up with ease, one hand on your hip, the other sliding around your waist like he was ready to take control, like this was going to go the way it always did for him. But he had no idea. You pushed against his chest, hard, catching him off guard and sending him stumbling back onto the bed. “What….” Before he could finish the question, you were crawling up after him, slow and purposeful, your eyes locked on his, a wicked little smirk tugging at your lips as you straddled his hips. “Mingi,” you purred, hands sliding up his chest, nails grazing just enough to make him twitch, “you really thought you’d be the one in charge tonight?” He swallowed hard, pupils dilating, the realization sinking in as you leaned down, lips brushing against his ear as you whispered, “Lie back. Be good. And let me fuck you.” You didn’t give him time to respond. Instead, you lowered yourself slowly, lips brushing his chest, the line of his ribs, the dip of his stomach, every kiss deliberate, a tease and a promise all in one as Mingi’s breathing turned ragged beneath you, his muscles tense under your mouth, but he didn’t move. Didn’t dare.

You reached his hips, sitting up, your nails dragging lightly along his sides as your eyes met his again. His hands gripped the sheets, knuckles white as you finally reached between you, guiding him to your entrance, already soaked and ready. You took your time, just the tip at first, the stretch enough to make you both exhale. Then, with one slow, deliberate roll of your hips, you sank down onto him, inch by thick inch, until he was buried inside you. Mingi’s head fell back with a choked moan, his hands flying to your thighs but stopping short of grabbing, like even now he was waiting to see what you’d let him do. “Fuck,” he breathed. “You feel….. fuck.” You smiled, starting to move, slow and deep, claiming him like you always should have. You rolled your hips in tight circles, feeling every inch of him stretch you open. Then you picked up speed, bouncing harder, riding him faster with each thrust. Your thighs flexed as you slammed down onto him, the wet slap of your bodies filling the room as you reached up, fingers wrapping around his throat, squeezing just enough to make his eyes flutter. “Look at you,” you breathed, voice thick with heat. “Taking my pussy so fucking good.” You pounded down onto him, your ass meeting his thighs with every drop as your grip on his throat tightened and you leaned in close, lips brushing his ear. “You see what you do to me, Mingi?” You pulled him up by the throat so he could watch, his eyes going wide at the sight of you coating his dick, creaming him, strings of it stretching every time you lifted off and slammed back down.

He whimpered, the sound raw and broken, hips twitching up to meet you as you kept fucking him, relentless, your walls gripping him tight. “You gonna come for me, Mingi? You said you pictured me while you were buried in someone else…” your grip on his throat tightened again, pulling yourself all the way up before slamming back down onto him. “now look at me as you come.” A broken “fuck” tore from his throat as his dick jerked inside you as he did, cum flooding your pussy in thick pulses as his body shook under you. But you didn’t stop riding him, milking every drop while your hand stayed locked around his throat. “You’re mine,” you growled, squeezing tighter. Your free hand sliding down between your bodies, fingers rubbing fast circles over your swollen clit and pleasure slammed into you hard making you cry out, pussy clenching and fluttering around him as you came gushing out around him. Before you could lift off, Mingi’s hands locked around your waist and he sat up in one fluid motion, still buried inside you, grabbing your legs, hooking them over his shoulders, holding you up like that, your back arched, his dick angled deeper. “Clench me,” he ordered, voice low and rough. You obeyed instantly, your pussy squeezing around him in rhythmic pulses. He didn’t move at first, just held you suspended, feeling every squeeze. Then he started thrusting, slow, deliberate lifts that dragged his dick almost all the way out before sinking back in. The pace building gradually, each thrust deeper, harder, until he was fucking you with full force and your hands clutched at his shoulders, nails digging in as he took complete control, pounding up into you while you hung onto him.

“Such a good girl,” he praised between thrusts, voice strained. “Taking every inch like you were made for it.” Your orgasm crashed over you again without warning, squirting hard around him, soaking his abs and thighs. Mingi pulled out just enough to watch the mess, holding you up so he could see your pussy pulsing and dripping before he flipped you onto your stomach, spreading your legs wide. His tongue dragged through your soaked folds, licking up the mess you’d made, sucking at your clit before kissing his way up your spine and flipped you again onto your back, wrapping your legs around his waist as he sank back into you with one smooth thrust. He sucked at one of your nipples, tongue swirling over it while he started fucking you slow and deep. One hand grabbed both of your wrists, pinning them above your head as his other braced beside you, hips snapping harder, pace picking up. Sweat slicking your bodies together. “I love you,” he panted against your mouth, forehead pressed to yours. “I love you.” You were too far gone to form words at first, just moaning and gasping as he fucked you relentlessly. “Come for me,” he growled. “Fuck…. you’re mine. Mine. I’m yours.” Your orgasm ripped through you, body shaking as you cried out, “I love you too” and Mingi followed right after, burying himself to the hilt and filling you once more, his dick throbbing as he groaned your name and stayed inside you, rocking gently through the aftershocks, both of you panting and clinging to each other. The room smelled like sex and sweat, your bodies joined, hearts pounding in sync as he kissed you, hands finally releasing your wrists so he could stroke your hair, whispering how perfect you felt around him, how long he’d wanted this, how he never wanted to let you go and you stayed wrapped around him, legs locked at his back, his cum leaking out around his softening dick while you both caught your breath, the intensity of everything you’d just done settling into something warm and possessive between you.

You stroked his back as he buried his face into the crook of your neck. Then you could think. The thought of him now after everything, onstage, not the stripping part, but the touching other women. The lap dances…. the thought made you surge with possessiveness. “No more lap dances.” It took a moment for Mingi to register but when he did, he laughed softly into your neck. “I promise from now on I will only grind on you.” He lifted his head and looked down at you. “No more sex with hot patients who flirt with you.” You laughed this time, fingers tangling into his hair, pulling him back down, your other hand moving to stroke his jaw, thumb brushing his bottom lip. “I promise from now on….” You kissed him. “You’re the only one I will fuck in an on call room.” You both laughed at that. Snuggling into each other.

Still best friends.

And now also so much more.

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there just seemed to be nothing going right this entire practice. all yunho could think about was how much his feet hurt and how badly he wanted to play valorant with the company of his favorite person—you. he had the perfect night planned in his head after such a terrible day. he would come home and shower, washing off the stress from his day. and after playing a few rounds of his game, he would tend to you and fuck you senseless.

it seemed like he was finally going to be able to wind down after everything. once you arrived at home you quickly found yunho sitting in his gaming chair, headset on, and hands moving impossibly fast on his mouse and keyboard. you usually would be okay with him playing the game, why would today be any different?

you had the same routine as always when he had practices; come home, shower, and bask in each others company for the night. but today for some reason just seemed like you really wanted to get on yunhos nerves. he was trying his best not to get upset with you, figuring you also had a bad day. but every time you would complain about something new, his patience started to run thin.

yunho was already on his third round of valorant by the time you got out of the shower. you emerged from the shower in a small tank and a pair of underwear, a usual nightly outfit. when you walked into the bedroom and saw his silhouette swallowed by the light in front of him you let out a loud sigh. he acknowledged you with a small hum, way too focused on the screen in front of him. after a long day of not seeing him all you wanted was his attention.

“are you gonna be on that thing all day?” you inquired, the attitude in your tone terribly obvious. yunho takes in a deep breath, his hands still moving skillfully across his keyboard. “no.” he responded, letting out a grunt as he got a kill. it really didn’t even seem like he was paying that much attention to you, which only fueled your anger even more. the room goes silent for a beat, only sound bouncing off the walls being the ones coming from his monitor. “when are you gonna get off?”

“soon.” really? could he only reply with one word?

you let out another sigh, sitting on the edge of the bed before speaking again. “how long is soon?” you keep poking, trying to get more than a single word out of him. yunho takes in another deep breath from his nose, “i don’t know, maybe a couple more rounds.”

“you’ve been on since i got home.” you whine exaggeratedly. your eyes are trained on the back of his head, but you can see how his jaw flexes slightly. bingo. if you couldn’t convince him to get off the game with your complaining, you’d just get him off it by doing what you do best—being a brat. “it won’t be that much longer.” he finally replies. you notice how his voice gets lower, and that only eggs you on. you walk up closer to him, trying to distract him from the screen. “ugh come on-“ “baby please, it wont be long.” he says, cutting you off slightly.

you blink down at him in shock. how much more would it take to get him to turn off that damn game??? then, its almost as if your brain flicks on. an idea, not necessarily a good one, pops into your head.

you stand behind him watching the screen as he plays for a few moments. “is the game more important than me?” you ask, matter-of-factly. you notice how he freezes slightly, and then in a flash his character dies. he curses under his breath, removing his hands from the keyboard until he respawns. “what are you talking about?” he sounds more serious this time. you feel a small smirk form on your face. you’re getting under his skin, you can tell. he’s sitting up straighter than usual. yunho always likes to sit slouched back in his chair while playing—legs with those grey joggers on spread wide open. making it very obvious he was going commando. he looks focused, but not quite on the game. he looks like he’s trying to keep his composure. keep himself from snapping and taking his anger out on you.

little does he know thats exactly what you wanted. so you decided to keep going. trying to see how far you could go with him until he finally gave up and got pushed over the edge. “just say it-” you start letting your voice grow a tad bit louder to show how mad you were getting. “please don’t start this.” he cut you off again. your heart was beating and you could feel the heat rising in your belly. he was actually getting mad. no—this wasn’t just slightly upset yunho. he seemed about 3 seconds from fully grabbing you and having his way with you. his character continuously dying, flashed of red on his screen as he gets shot.

“i mean it’s painfully obvious, yunho.” he dies again. then he just sits there. he doesn’t press any more buttons. his hands just rest on the keyboard. you can practically feel your heart in your throat. the silence is deafening—but its thrilling all at the same time.

he pushes up from out of the chair and immediately turns to you. his hand swiftly reaches up grabbing you by your cheeks to tilt your head back. you gasp at the suddenness of it all as you scan his expression. his tongue was poking the inside of his cheek, granted he had been doing that the entire time before he stood up. but now you could see his eyes. the rawness in them. you had finally done it. you tipped him over and he couldn’t take it anymore and now he’s gonna make you regret it all. “what the fuck is up with you today?” his voice sounds rough, and it went straight to your core. you’re practically shaking in his grip with excitement as he speaks to you like this. you go silent for a beat, and he shakes your face a bit. “hello? gone dumb already on me?”

you take in a deep breath, “i just wanted your attention…” your voice is low now and your eyes are big. you’re playing dumb. he can tell. he knew you wanted to irritate him. “no no, don’t act all cute now.” he says sharply. “down. on the floor.” you freeze for a moment—not because you’re shocked—but because you want to get under his skin just a bit more… one last time.

he huffs a laugh out of his nose, “funny.” his hand moves from your face to grab onto your shoulder, pushing you down all the way to your knees. you had been so focused on his face these past couple of minutes, that you didn’t even notice how hard he had gotten already. he brings his free hand to his sweats, pulling them down, along with his boxers, just enough to free himself right in your face. his hand that rested atop of your shoulder slowly slid up to grip the hair at the back of your head. he reaches down and takes ahold of your wrist, bringing it in front of your own face. “spit.”

you quickly obliged, letting enough saliva gather in your mouth before letting it fall into the palm of your hand. your hand gently wrapped around his dick, and he was already hot and throbbing in your grip. it made your breath hitch and your thighs clench beneath you. “go on. do what you were made to do.” you kept your eyes on his face as you slowly began to stroke him. up and down, not hurried or rushed at all, wanting to watch every facial expression he made from the teasing. his breath began to get heavy, and his grip on your hair increased slightly. when you brought your hand back up to the tip, you squeezed gently, and a low moan erupted from the back of his throat. you watched as his eyebrows would pinch up more and more from the pleasure, more little curses spilling under his breath. he had let you do enough to where he was covered in your spit, his cock shining in the light that came from his monitor. you bring your hand back up to his tip and before you can even do anything he grabs your wrist again.

“enough, enough.” he uses the hand tangled in your hair to bring you closer to him, his dick barely even an inch away from your face. “open your mouth honey…” you kept those big eyes trained on his face, opening your mouth like a little puppy. he brings the tip to your lips, smearing spit all over them. “just a little more…” he says as he pushes further into your mouth, letting the warmth envelop his length. he pushed in until he can feel himself at the back of your throat, the hand in your hair keeping you there.

he stutters out a moan, like he was letting his restraint slip. but he wasn’t gonna let you control anything. each time he pulled out he’d barely give you a few seconds before he was pushing your head back down all the way. you felt so full, so overwhelmed. you were blinking away tears that formed with each gag around his cock. “there you go doll, take that dick like you were made for it.” he repeated the same motions over and over, bobbing your head up and down on him until he couldn’t take your throat squeezing him anymore. he pulled you off, lifting your head up towards him. you were already a mess. your spit running down your face, a string connecting you both as he pulled you away.

“you just couldn’t fucking wait, could you?” the words sent a shiver down your spine. of course you couldn’t, but you wouldn’t admit that to him. the hand that wasn’t tangled in your hair came up to your chin, wiping all the saliva from your face, then slowly entered it into your mouth. “clean up your mess… since you wanted to be a greedy slut i’ll treat you like one.” you felt yourself moan around the digit, making sure to lick up the entirety of it. once he was sure you were done he removed his thumb from your mouth, tracing it down your lips and chin.

yunhos grip on your hair loosened and whispered, “you gonna be good for me now?” you nodded up at him, tears still in your eyes. he nodded towards the bed without a word and you knew exactly what that meant. you scrambled to your feet and by the time you made it to the bed and turned around he was already on you. his hands grabbed at your waist, flipping you over onto your stomach in one swift movement. one hand moved, pulling you up by the hip to arch perfectly for him. he let his hands roam across your body. your skin started to feel hot, and you could feel yourself soaking through your panties. a small whine slipped and you let your head fall onto the pillows in front of you. “aw, is someone getting impatient?” he mocks, bringing a hand to your core. he ran a finger through your folds, the fabric bringing more stimulation but still not enough. you whine again, reaching behind you for something, anything. all yunho did was huff out a laugh, grabbing your wrist and pinning your hand behind your back.

his hand continued with its teasing, getting you wet enough until he saw a patch start to seep through. yunho didn’t even bother removing your panties. he only moved them over to the side, noticing how they stuck to you for a bit.

you felt the heat of him as he pressed his tip against you and you started to writhe underneath him. “stay still—you’re gonna take what i give you.” he whispered as he started to push into you. with how wet you both were he could easily slide in, not stopping until he felt you clench around him when he hit that spot. you moan simultaneously, and he barely gave you any time to recover before he began moving. he kept your hand behind your back, pushing it down even more to get you to arch further, ripping a loud moan from your throat.

yunho immediately set a brutal pace, the sounds of your moans and whimpers echoed around the walls. “y-yun.. please!” you could already barely speak properly with him hitting your g-spot over and over without fail. the feeling of his hand around your wrist pinning you down and the other on your waist is making your head spin. he lets out a low groan when you clench around him again, slowing down his thrusts and pushing himself all the way in until he noticed your legs slightly shaking. he leaned down further until his chest was almost pressing against your back and brought his mouth to your ear, “baby you’re already shaking? i thought you could take it…” he teases with a tsk. he emphasized his sentence with a deep thrust, practically punching the breath from your lungs. he repeated the same motion, slowly pulling out before pushing back in hard and forcing moans out of you.

“maybe if you weren’t so fucking greedy and waited i could’ve taken care of you doll…” he whispers to you. everything he was doing to you was filling your senses and you felt yourself getting overwhelmed with it all. each breath you took was filled with his scent, you could still taste him on your tongue, his hands felt like fire burning over your body. but you still wanted it all. you hadn’t even realized your mouth was open this entire time until you felt the side of your face getting wet. you were drooling all on the pillow. it was almost as if he was reading your mind when he started talking again. “god, am i fucking you dumb already?” you don’t even know why but apologies quickly started spilling from you, mixed with loud moans and sobs.

“m’sorry, i swear! wasn’t trying to be greedy-“ he quickly shut you up with another hard thrust, lifting back up so he could resume his pace. “no… you’re not sorry. you wanted this, didn’t you?”

the sounds coming from you were borderline pornographic. you felt your legs began to shake again and before you knew it you were coming. hard. the feeling of you clamping down on him made yunho moan too. once you finally felt yourself coming down you barely had any time to recover before he started fucking your again.

“no fucking manners either, you couldn’t say please?” he growled, looking down between the two of you, watching your pussy as he slid in and out with ease. your moans faded to low, high-pitched whines. “i didn’t- mean to…” you pant out. he laughs at you before removing his hand from your wrist, only to put it on the back of your neck. he used it to keep you pinned down right where he wanted as he pounded into you from behind. the room was filled with the harmonies of your noises and the nasty squelch of your spit and cum. you opened your mouth to speak again but you just couldn’t. every time he saw you try to speak again he’d cut you off with a rough thrust that would knock the wind out of your lungs.

yunho hasn’t slowed down yet, and you could already feel the familiar sensation in the pit of your stomach growing again. “y-yu… im close…” you whimper into the pillow, trying you best to be as coherent as possible. you felt so full in the best way humanly possible, but with your impending orgasm not even minutes after your first is making you sensitive. “cant- fuck i’m so close!”

he laughs at you again, slowing down his thrusts but only getting even rougher with them. “say please…” he mutters as his grip on the side of your neck gets slightly tighter, making your brain go fuzzy from the lack of oxygen. you moan loudly, opening your mouth to speak but you just can’t. the hand on the back of your neck quickly moves, reaching to grab your face, only forcing you to turn your head and look back at him. “say it.” he took his bottom lip onto his mouth, biting so hard he almost drew blood. the way he was handling you only made you moan louder—the contrast of this yunho and your usual sweet boyfriend was making your head spin.

“please yun! please… can’t take it-“ he cuts you off immediately, “say you’re sorry.” your legs were shaking again from the overstimulation. he really was trying to fuck you dumb. yunho swiftly moves his hand from your face to your throat, impossibly increasing his speed as he hit your g-spot with every movement.

you feel tears forming, only this time they actually started to fall. you looked a fucking mess—face wet and lip swollen from unconsciously biting it. yunho looked like he could keep going as long as he so pleased, eyes intense and focused as he watched every expression on your face. he was sweating and his hair was sticking to his forehead, the view in front of you only causing you to clench down even harder on him. “m’sorry i promise… so sorry- only wanted your attention.” he let out a sound of fake sympathy while letting his free hand reach between you both, skillfully rubbing his middle finger against your clit. your body would twitch with each touch, it felt like an electric shock each time.

your eyes rolled back as your body started to lock up. you shut your eyes tight as you felt the coil in your belly finally snap as your orgasm washed over you. flashes of white were the only thing you could see and yunhos moans were the only things you could hear. “fuccckk baby, there’s my good girl…” he thrusted again once. twice. then stilled as he emptied himself inside of you.

you could feel him shaking too, the both of you panting and whining as the sensitivity took over. yunho slowly pulled out and you whimpered at the loss. when he let go of your face you had realized your entire body was weak and limp, and you instantly fell forward onto the pillows. you felt the warm sensation of his lips against the cool sweat on your shoulders. “good job honey… did so good…” you could only hum in response, too tired to do anything. you were both breathing heavily, and his hands roamed across your body, gently squeezing anywhere he could. he quickly noticed when your breathing got shallow, but he didn’t want you to fall asleep yet.

“no no, sweetheart… not yet.” he says softly, flipping you on to your back and lifting you by the arms. you let out a whine in protest, keeping yourself limp to make it harder for him to lift you, which really didn’t work. “gotta take another quick shower before before bed, okay?”

“mm okay.”

“next time, it’ll take way more than just an ‘i’m sorry.’”

The city never slept, but you had learned to find pockets of quiet in it anyway. Tonight, the rain slicked the streets into mirrors, reflecting neon signs and the occasional flash of red and blue lights high above the rooftops. Somewhere up there, your boyfriend was probably swinging between buildings, mask pulled tight over that bright, boyish grin you loved so much.

Yunho had been Spider-Man for almost two years now. To the public he was the friendly neighborhood hero: quick with jokes mid-swing, always stopping to help old ladies cross the street or rescue cats from trees. To you, he was still the tall, clumsy golden retriever of a man who burned toast every Sunday morning and apologized with a thousand kisses. He came home bruised and laughing, peeling off the suit in your shared apartment while you patched him up and scolded him gently for taking too many risks.

You were happy. Deeply, stupidly happy.

Until Song Mingi started appearing in the edges of your life like a shadow that refused to be ignored.

The first time you noticed him was on a Tuesday evening, three weeks ago. You were walking home from the bookstore where you worked part-time, arms full of new releases you’d promised to review for the shop’s social media. The rain had just started, and you were cursing yourself for forgetting an umbrella when a tall figure stepped under the awning beside you.

He didn’t say anything at first. Just leaned against the brick wall, hands in the pockets of a long black coat that looked far too expensive for this neighborhood. His hair was damp, blonde strands falling into sharp eyes that watched you with unnerving focus. When you glanced up, he offered a slow, crooked smile.

"Need a hand?" His voice was low, a little raspy, like he’d been shouting earlier and his throat hadn’t recovered.

You shook your head, polite but firm. "I’m good, thanks."

He didn’t push. Just nodded once and melted back into the rain, coat flaring behind him like wings made of night.

You told Yunho about it that night while he was sprawled across your lap on the couch, letting you run your fingers through his hair.

"Sounds kinda creepy" he said, eyes half-closed in bliss. "Want me to swing by the bookstore tomorrow? I can be your personal bodyguard."

You laughed and flicked his forehead. "You have enough people to save, Spider-Boy. I can handle one weird guy."

But the weird guy kept showing up.

At the café near campus where you studied on Thursdays, he sat two tables away, nursing a black coffee and reading a copy of some old sci-fi novel. When your eyes met, he lifted his cup in a silent toast, that same crooked smile tugging at his lips.

Outside the library after closing, he was leaning against a lamppost, staring up at the stars like he could see through the light pollution. You walked faster. He didn’t follow, but you felt his gaze on your back until you turned the corner.

Then came the night he saved you from a mugger.

It wasn’t dramatic, just some desperate kid with a knife who thought your bag looked worth the risk in a poorly lit alley shortcut. You’d barely had time to scream before black, slick tendrils shot out from the darkness, wrapping around the attacker’s wrist and yanking the knife away. The kid hit the ground hard, gasping as something viscous and alive pinned him in place.

A tall silhouette stepped forward. Mingi. His eyes glowed faintly in the dark, not quite human.

"You okay?" he asked you, voice calm despite the way the living shadow around his shoulders rippled with agitation.

You nodded, heart hammering. "Y-yeah. Thank you."

He disposed of the mugger with terrifying efficiency, not killing him, but leaving him bound and unconscious for the police to find. Then he turned back to you, the black substance retreating under his skin until he looked almost normal again. Almost.

"My name’s Mingi" he said simply. "And you… you’re the one dating the spider, right?"

Your stomach dropped. "How do you..."

"I notice things." He shrugged, but there was something raw in his expression. "Hard not to notice you."

That was the beginning of the real pursuit. He never threatened you. Never forced anything. He was just… there. Persistent in a way that should have felt dangerous but somehow felt magnetic instead. He’d wait outside your building with takeout from the ramen place you loved, claiming he "happened to be in the area."

He’d text you (you never gave him your number, but he had it anyway) short messages that made your cheeks warm despite yourself.

"Saw you smiling at something on your phone today. Hope it was good." "You looked tired after your shift. Get some rest, yeah?"

One night he showed up soaked from the rain again, standing under the streetlight like he belonged to the storm. You opened the door before he could knock, arms crossed.

"What do you want, Mingi?"

He looked at you for a long moment, rain dripping from his lashes. Then he stepped closer, close enough that you could smell rain and something darker, metallic.

"You" he said, simple and honest. "I want you."

Your breath caught. "I have a boyfriend."

"I know." His voice dropped lower, rougher. "Jeong Yunho. Spider-Man. Nice guy. Golden boy. Makes you laugh, brings you flowers, kisses you like you’re made of glass." A bitter edge crept in. "But I see the way you look when you think no one’s watching. Like part of you wants something that bites back."

Black tendrils flickered at the edges of his fingers, then vanished. Venom. You’d heard rumors about the anti-hero who operated in the gray zones of the city, saving people when it suited him, but never afraid to get his hands dirty. The symbiote made him stronger, faster, more dangerous. And right now it seemed to pulse with the same desperate hunger in Mingi’s eyes.

"I’m not a good man" he continued, voice barely above a whisper. "Not like him. I’ve done things… hurt people who deserved it. But for you? I’d try. I’d burn the whole damn city down if it made you look at me the way you look at him."

Your heart raced. You should close the door. Call Yunho. Do anything except stand here listening to this tall, dangerous man confess like his life depended on it.

Instead, you asked "Why me?"

Mingi laughed, low and self-deprecating. "Because the first time I saw you, you were helping some kid who dropped his ice cream. You didn’t even know I was watching. You just… cared. No ulterior motive. No fear. And something in me, in us, woke up." He tapped his chest where the symbiote lived. "Venom doesn’t like many people. But you? It wants to wrap around you and never let go. And I… I can’t stop thinking about how your hands would feel in my hair. How your voice would sound saying my name instead of his."

He reached out slowly, giving you time to pull away. His fingers brushed a stray raindrop from your cheek, surprisingly gentle for someone so large and lethal.

"I know it’s wrong. I know you’re happy with him. But I’m selfish, sweetheart. And desperate." His eyes darkened. "Let me take you out. Just once. Dinner. No pressure. If you still want me to disappear after that, I will. But give me a chance to show you what it feels like when someone wants you like they need air."

Weeks passed like that. Mingi’s appearances grew bolder, his words more heated. He never touched you without permission, but every glance felt like a caress. Every low murmur in your ear when he "accidentally" ran into you sent shivers down your spine.

Yunho noticed something was off. You’d come home distracted, cheeks flushed, and he’d pull you into his lap, kissing you soft and sweet until you melted. He was perfect: attentive, funny, endlessly patient. He made you feel safe and loved.

But Mingi made you feel seen in a way that terrified you. Like he could peel back every layer and still want what was underneath.

One rainy Friday, you finally broke.

You were locking up the bookstore alone when Mingi appeared in the doorway, blocking the exit with his broad frame. The shop was dark, only the emergency lights on. He looked half-wild, coat open, shirt clinging to his chest from the downpour outside.

"I can’t do this anymore" he growled. Not angry: frustrated. Starving. "Every night I patrol these streets and all I can think about is you in his arms. Smiling at him. Letting him kiss you goodnight. It’s driving me insane."

A black tendril slipped out, curling around your wrist like a bracelet, cool and alive. It didn’t squeeze, just rested there, pulsing in time with his heartbeat.

"I’m not asking you to leave him" Mingi said, stepping closer until you had to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. "I’m begging you to let me in. Even if it’s just a little. Even if it’s only for one night. Let me show you how good it could feel to be wanted by someone who’s not afraid to be a little monster for you."

Your pulse thundered in your ears. Yunho’s face flashed in your mind: his bright laugh, the way he looked at you like you hung the moon. But Mingi was right here, raw and open and trembling with how badly he needed you to say yes.

You swallowed hard. "Fine" you whispered. "But only if you meet him first. My boyfriend. Yunho. If you’re serious about this, about me, then you have to face him. No secrets. No hiding."

Mingi’s eyes widened, surprise flickering across his sharp features. Then a slow, wicked smile spread across his lips, dangerous and victorious all at once. The tendril around your wrist tightened for just a second in what felt like pure relief before retreating.

"Deal" he murmured, voice like velvet over gravel. "Introduce me to your spider, sweetheart. Let’s see if the golden boy can handle sharing the spotlight."

He leaned down, lips brushing the shell of your ear. "And when he says yes… because something tells me he might… I’m going to spend every second proving I was worth the risk."

Rain hammered the windows as Mingi stepped back, giving you space even as his gaze burned with promise. You stood there long after he disappeared into the night, heart racing, wondering what on earth you had just started.

Because deep down, you already knew you weren’t going to walk away from this. And somewhere across the city, swinging through the rain, Yunho had no idea that his quiet, perfect life was about to get a whole lot more complicated and a whole lot hotter.

The apartment smelled like garlic and sesame oil when Mingi arrived exactly on time. You had spent the last hour pacing between the kitchen and living room, heart hammering so loudly you were sure Yunho could hear it from the bedroom where he was changing out of his suit. The takeout bags from your favorite Thai place sat warm on the counter and you’d opened a bottle of red wine, something decent but not too fancy. Neutral ground.

Yunho emerged in soft gray sweatpants and one of his oversized hoodies, hair still damp from the shower, flashing you that bright, reassuring smile that usually melted every worry away. Tonight it only made your stomach twist tighter.

"You sure about this, baby?" he asked softly, wrapping his long arms around your waist from behind and pressing a kiss to the top of your head. "We can cancel. Tell him something came up. I’ll swing by and web him to a rooftop if he gets weird."

You laughed despite the nerves, leaning back into his chest. "No fighting. You promised. And no webs in the living room, I just vacuumed."

"Fine, fine. But if he tries anything-"

"He won’t." You turned in his arms, cupping his face. Yunho’s eyes were warm brown, full of that endless patience and quiet strength you’d fallen in love with. "He’s… intense. But he agreed to this. Meeting you. That means something, right?"

Yunho searched your face for a long moment, thumb brushing your cheek. "It means he wants you bad enough to walk into the spider’s den. I’m curious, I’ll admit it." His smile turned a little mischievous, the same one he wore when he was planning a surprise date or sneaking you onto a rooftop for stargazing. "And if you’re feeling even a fraction of what he’s throwing at you… we’ll figure it out together. Okay?"

You nodded, kissing him softly. His lips were familiar, gentle, tasting faintly of the mint toothpaste he always used after patrols. Safe. Yours.

The knock came at exactly seven.

You opened the door to find Mingi standing there in all black: fitted shirt that clung to his broad shoulders and chest, dark jeans and that long coat draped over one arm. His hair was styled back, exposing the sharp line of his jaw, and his eyes locked onto you immediately, dark and hungry. For a second the air felt thicker, like the symbiote beneath his skin was reaching out.

Then he smiled, slow, crooked, almost boyish if it weren’t for the edge of desperation lurking underneath.

"Hey" he said, voice low and rough. "You look beautiful."

Behind you, Yunho cleared his throat lightly, stepping into view with his easy, disarming grin. "Mingi, right? Come on in. We ordered way too much food, hope you’re hungry."

Mingi’s gaze flicked to Yunho, assessing. The two men were almost the same height, but where Yunho was all long limbs and golden warmth, Mingi carried a coiled, dangerous presence that made the hallway feel smaller. He extended a hand and Yunho shook it without hesitation. No flinch, no spider-sense warning apparently, or if there was, Yunho hid it perfectly.

"I appreciate you letting me come over" Mingi said, stepping inside. His eyes never left yours for long. "Didn’t think the friendly neighborhood Spider-Man would be this… hospitable."

Yunho laughed, the sound bright and genuine as he closed the door. "Hey, I’m off the clock. And she said you saved her from a mugger. That earns you at least one dinner before I decide if I need to web you up."

The tension should have been awkward, but somehow it wasn’t. Not at first.

You all settled around the small dining table. Mingi sat across from you, Yunho at your side, his hand resting casually on your thigh under the table, a quiet anchor. Conversation started safe: the weather (still raining), the latest villain sighting downtown (Yunho handled it with his usual quips), the book you’d been reading that Mingi had apparently noticed you carrying weeks ago.

"You remembered that?" you asked, surprised, as you passed him the pad thai.

Mingi shrugged, but his eyes softened. "I notice everything about you. The way you bite your lip when you’re concentrating. How you always order extra spring rolls even though you say you’re full after two." He glanced at Yunho. "She does the same thing with you?"

Yunho’s fingers tightened slightly on your thigh, but his smile stayed easy. "Yeah. She’s terrible at sharing food, but I let her steal my dumplings anyway." He leaned over and pressed a quick kiss to your temple, deliberately affectionate. "Worth it every time."

Mingi watched the kiss with open hunger, jaw flexing. A faint ripple of black shifted under the collar of his shirt before disappearing: Venom reacting to the emotions rolling off him. He took a slow sip of wine, then set the glass down.

"I’m not here to play games" he said suddenly, voice dropping. The civility cracked just enough to let the raw edge through. "I’ve been watching her, from a distance, mostly, for weeks. Trying to stay away. Failing. Every time I see her with you, laughing, holding your hand… something in me wants to rip the world apart just to have one chance to make her look at me like that."

You froze, chopsticks halfway to your mouth. Yunho didn’t. He tilted his head, studying Mingi with genuine curiosity rather than anger.

"Bold" Yunho said mildly. "Most guys would at least pretend to be subtle on the first meeting."

"I’m not most guys." Mingi’s eyes glowed faintly for a split second, the symbiote peeking through. "And neither are you. Spider-Man. Hero. The guy who swings around saving everyone with jokes and zero fear. But I’m the one who does what needs to be done when the heroes look away. I’ve put down monsters the city pretends don’t exist. And right now, the only thing I want more than my next breath is her."

The room grew quiet except for the rain pattering against the windows. Yunho’s hand stayed warm on your thigh, thumb stroking slow circles, calming, grounding. He wasn’t tense. If anything, he seemed… intrigued.

"You’re Venom’s host" Yunho said after a moment, tone conversational. "Anti-hero vibes. I’ve heard the stories. You don’t play by the rules, but you’ve saved people too. Stopped a couple of shipments that even I couldn’t get to in time."

Mingi nodded once, sharp. "We do what we have to. The symbiote… it likes the violence sometimes. But it likes her more. We both do. She’s light in all this gray shit. And I’m desperate enough to sit here across from her boyfriend and beg for scraps if that’s all I can get."

You felt heat rise in your cheeks. Yunho glanced at you, searching again for any discomfort. Finding none, only flushed confusion and something warmer you didn’t want to name yet, he turned back to Mingi.

"So what exactly are you asking for?" Yunho’s voice was calm, but there was a new undercurrent, low and curious. "You want to date her behind my back? Steal her? Or… something else?"

Mingi leaned forward, elbows on the table, eyes locked on yours even as he answered. "I want whatever she’ll give me. A date. A kiss. A night where she forgets the world and just feels wanted so badly it hurts. I’m not asking her to leave you. I know what you two have, it’s real. But I’m selfish. And the thought of never touching her, never hearing her say my name while she’s falling apart… it’s killing me."

Black tendrils flickered briefly at his fingertips before he forced them back, breathing hard.

Yunho was quiet for a long beat. Then he surprised you both by chuckling softly. "You’ve got balls, I’ll give you that. Most people see the suit and assume I’m all sunshine and heroic speeches." He squeezed your thigh gently. "But I’ve seen the gray areas too. Up close. And if she’s interested…if there’s even a part of her that wants to see what this could be…I’m not the type to cage her."

Your heart stuttered. "Yunho…"

He turned to you fully, cupping your face with both hands now, expression soft and open. "Baby, you’ve been distracted for weeks. I noticed. And tonight, watching the way he looks at you…it’s not just lust. It’s need. Raw. The kind that makes a man, or a symbiote, risk everything." He brushed his thumb over your bottom lip. "If you want to explore that, with me right here…I’m okay with it. More than okay. As long as it’s what you want. We’ve always been honest with each other."

Mingi’s breath hitched audibly across the table. His hands clenched into fists, knuckles white, as if he was physically holding Venom back from reaching for you.

You looked between them: your sweet, golden boyfriend who loved you enough to share the spotlight and the dangerous anti-hero who had chased you relentlessly, baring his soul without shame.

The wine had loosened something in you. The rain outside felt like a cocoon. And the heat in both their gazes made your skin tingle.

"I… don’t know what this would look like" you admitted quietly. "But I didn’t expect you to be open to it, Yunho. And Mingi… you’ve been so persistent. So honest about how much you want this."

Mingi’s voice came out rough, almost broken. "More than anything. Let me prove it. Let us, all three of us, see what happens when the spider and the monster both get to touch the same woman."

Yunho smiled again, slower this time, a spark of something playful and heated flickering in his eyes. He leaned back on the couch after you all migrated there with fresh glasses of wine, arm draped casually around your shoulders.

"So" he said lightly, but his tone carried weight, "you really want her that badly, Mingi?"

Mingi’s gaze never wavered. "More than anything."

Yunho looked down at you, searching one last time. When you gave the smallest nod, cheeks burning, he pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

"Then maybe we should see just how well you can share."

The words hung between the three of you like a spark on dry tinder.

Maybe we should see just how well you can share.

Yunho’s voice was low, playful, but laced with a heat you rarely heard outside the bedroom. His arm stayed draped around your shoulders on the couch, fingers tracing lazy circles against your skin through your shirt. Across from you, Mingi sat perfectly still, but the air around him seemed to vibrate. A single black tendril had slipped from his sleeve earlier and now hovered near your ankle, cool and questioning, before retreating as if waiting for permission.

Your heart hammered so loudly you were sure they could both hear it. The rain continued its steady rhythm against the windows, cocooning the apartment in a private world. The wine had warmed your blood, but it was nothing compared to the way both men were looking at you: Yunho with familiar affection mixed with curious excitement, Mingi with raw, desperate hunger that made your thighs press together instinctively.

You swallowed, voice barely above a whisper. "Are we really doing this?"

Yunho turned to you fully, cupping your cheek with one large hand. His thumb brushed your lower lip, eyes searching yours with that endless patience you loved. "Only if you want it, baby. No pressure. We can stop anytime. But if you’re curious… if part of you has been wondering what it would feel like to have both of us…" He leaned in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your lips. "I’m right here. I’ve got you."

Mingi’s breath hitched audibly. His hands clenched on his knees, knuckles pale. "Say the word" he rasped, voice rough like he’d been holding it back for months. "And I’ll show you how badly I’ve needed this. Needed you."

The decision settled in your chest, warm and thrilling. You nodded, cheeks burning. "Yes. I want this. Both of you."

That was all it took.

Mingi moved first, not rushing, but with the coiled intensity of a predator finally released. He rose from his seat in one fluid motion, crossing the small space between you in two strides. His hands found your waist as he pulled you up from the couch and into his chest. The moment his mouth crashed against yours, all the pent-up desperation from weeks of pursuit poured out.

The kiss was deep, hungry, almost bruising. His tongue slid against yours with bold strokes, tasting of red wine and something darker, wilder. Black tendrils flickered at the edges of his shoulders, cool and slick as they brushed your arms, not restraining, but exploring, teasing the bare skin where your sleeves rode up. You moaned into his mouth, hands fisting the front of his shirt, feeling the hard muscle beneath.

Yunho watched from the couch for a moment, eyes dark with arousal. Then he stood, stepping behind you and pressing his tall frame against your back. His familiar warmth contrasted sharply with Mingi’s intense heat. Yunho’s hands settled on your hips, sliding up under the hem of your shirt to caress the soft skin of your stomach while his lips found the sensitive spot on your neck.

"Easy, Mingi" Yunho murmured against your skin, voice husky with amusement and desire. "She’s not going anywhere. We’ve got all night."

Mingi pulled back just enough to growl "I've been waiting too long for easy." But his next kiss was slightly softer, though no less consuming. One of his hands cupped the back of your neck, tilting your head for better access, while a thick Venom tendril curled gently around your wrist, pulsing warmly.

Yunho’s fingers worked your shirt upward. "Arms up, baby" he whispered. You obeyed, breaking the kiss only long enough for him to tug the fabric over your head and toss it aside. Mingi’s gaze dropped to your bra-clad breasts, pupils flaring with want. A pair of smaller tendrils slipped from his collar, cool and smooth as they traced the straps before sliding underneath to tease your nipples through the lace.

You gasped at the dual sensation: Yunho’s warm hands unhooking your bra from behind while Mingi’s symbiote sent little jolts of cool pleasure across your sensitive skin. The bra joined your shirt on the floor and both men groaned at the sight of you bare from the waist up.

"Always so beautiful" Yunho praised, voice soft and reverent as he cupped your breasts from behind, thumbs circling your nipples until they tightened. He kissed along your shoulder, nipping lightly.

Mingi dropped to one knee in front of you, eyes never leaving yours. "I've been dreaming about this" he muttered. His large hands slid your pants down your legs, taking your underwear with them in one impatient tug. You stepped out of them, suddenly naked between the two fully clothed men. The vulnerability sent a fresh wave of heat through you.

Mingi’s hands gripped your thighs, spreading them gently. "Look at her, Yunho. Already so wet for us." He leaned in, dragging his tongue slowly through your folds. The first broad stroke made your knees buckle. Yunho’s strong arms held you upright against his chest, one hand still playing with your breast while the other stroked your side soothingly.

"Fuck… she tastes even better than I imagined" Mingi groaned against your pussy. His tongue was relentless: lapping, circling your clit, dipping inside you with teasing thrusts. Thick Venom tendrils wrapped around your thighs, holding you open and steady while Mingi's thumb flicked rapidly against your clit, the cool slickness adding an overwhelming layer of sensation.

You cried out, head falling back against Yunho’s shoulder. "Oh god… Mingi-"

"That’s it" Yunho encouraged, voice low in your ear. "Let him hear how good he’s making you feel. You’re doing so well, baby. Taking everything he gives you." His free hand slid down, fingers joining Mingi’s efforts. Two of Yunho’s long fingers pushed inside you alongside Mingi’s tongue, stretching you deliciously while Mingi continued his merciless teasing on your clit.

The combined assault had you trembling within minutes. Pleasure coiled tight and hot in your belly. Mingi sucked your clit between his lips at the same moment Yunho curled his fingers against that perfect spot inside you and you came hard with a broken cry, thighs shaking in Mingi’s grip as waves of ecstasy crashed through you.

They didn’t stop. Mingi lapped up every drop of your release with hungry sounds while Yunho whispered praises against your neck. "Good girl… so pretty when you come. We’re just getting started."

When the aftershocks finally eased, Mingi stood, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand. His lips glistened. The bulge in his jeans was obvious, straining against the fabric. Yunho turned you gently in his arms, kissing you deeply.

"Bedroom" Yunho suggested, voice rough now. "I want to watch him fuck you while I hold you."

The walk to the bedroom was a blur of hands and mouths. Mingi shed his shirt on the way, revealing a powerfully built torso marked with faint scars, evidence of his life as an anti-hero. Black symbiote patterns rippled across his skin like living tattoos before settling. Yunho stripped more leisurely, revealing the lean, athletic body you knew so well, already hard and ready.

They laid you on the bed together. Yunho slid behind you, propping himself against the headboard and pulling you back against his chest so you were reclining between his spread legs. His cock rested hot and hard against your lower back. Mingi knelt between your thighs, stroking his own impressive length; thick, veined, with a slight curve that made your mouth water.

"Tell me you want this" Mingi said, voice strained with restraint. A tendril curled around your calf, stroking soothingly.

"I want it" you breathed. "Want both of you. Please."

Yunho reached down, guiding his cock to your entrance first. He pushed in slowly, familiar and perfect, filling you with one smooth thrust that made you moan. He stayed still once seated, letting you adjust while his hands roamed your body: pinching nipples, stroking your stomach.

Mingi watched with dark, rapt attention. When Yunho nodded, Mingi positioned himself and began to push in alongside him.

The stretch was intense, almost too much at first. Two thick cocks filling you at once, rubbing together inside your tight heat. You gasped, nails digging into Yunho’s thighs on either side of you. Tendrils from Mingi wrapped around your waist and wrists, cool and supportive, easing the pressure while adding teasing friction against your skin.

"Breathe, baby" Yunho murmured, kissing your temple. "You’re taking us so well. Such a good girl for us." His hand slipped down to rub slow circles on your clit, helping the pleasure overtake the initial burn.

Mingi’s head fell back with a groan once he bottomed out. "Fuck… so tight. So perfect. Been dying to feel this." He stayed still for a long moment, letting you adjust, sweat already beading on his forehead.

When you finally rocked your hips experimentally, both men moaned in unison.

They found a rhythm quickly. Yunho thrust up into you with deep, measured strokes, familiar and loving, while Mingi fucked you harder, deeper, with the raw desperation that had defined his pursuit. Their cocks dragged against each other with every movement, the dual friction driving you higher than you’d ever felt.

The sounds were obscene: wet slaps of skin, your broken moans, their mingled grunts and praises.

"Look at you" Yunho panted against your ear, voice wrecked. "Taking both our cocks like you were made for it. So fucking beautiful. I love you so much."

Mingi leaned down, capturing your lips in a messy kiss while still thrusting. "Mine too now" he growled against your mouth. "Gonna fill you up. Make you feel how badly I’ve wanted you."

Pleasure built fast and overwhelming. Yunho’s fingers on your clit, Mingi’s relentless pace, the constant teasing from the symbiote, the fullness of being stretched so completely, it all crashed over you in a devastating orgasm. You came with a sharp cry, clenching hard around both of them, body shaking between their frames as ecstasy ripped through every nerve.

Yunho followed right after, burying himself deep with a low moan of your name, pulsing hot inside you. Mingi lasted only a few more brutal thrusts before he came with a roar, hips stuttering as he spilled deep, the symbiote tendrils tightening around you in shared release.

For a long moment, the only sounds were heavy breathing and the rain outside. They stayed inside you, softening slowly, hands and tendrils stroking soothingly over your sweat-slick skin.

Yunho pressed soft kisses along your neck and shoulder. "You okay, baby? That was… intense."

You nodded weakly, a dazed smile on your lips. "More than okay. Amazing."

Mingi pulled out carefully, collapsing beside you with surprising gentleness. A few tendrils still lingered, cleaning and soothing your skin with cool touches. He pressed a surprisingly tender kiss to your shoulder, then looked across at Yunho.

"Thank you" he said simply, voice hoarse. "For trusting me with her. With this."

Yunho smiled, that bright, golden smile returning even through the afterglow. "We’re figuring this out together. All three of us." He nuzzled into your hair. "Think you can handle both of us from now on?"

You laughed breathlessly, reaching up to thread your fingers through both their hair: one soft and fluffy, the other slightly damp with sweat. "I think I’m going to love trying."

Mingi’s low chuckle vibrated against your side. One last tendril curled affectionately around your wrist before retreating. "Good. Because I’m nowhere near done proving how much I want this. Want you."

The three of you stayed tangled together as the rain continued to fall, bodies cooling, hearts slowing.

In the quiet aftermath, with Yunho’s familiar warmth at your back and Mingi’s intense presence at your front, you felt utterly, perfectly loved.

You had been observing him for months.

Every single day the moment you got home, your eyes instantly drifted upward to where he stood on his balcony. Sometimes, you would run into him at the entrance of your shared apartment complex.

He completely consumed your every thought, not just because of his looks, but because of his kindness.

He was the missing piece.

A few meaningless interactions were all it took to trigger the shift. Soon, you found yourself monitoring his routine. You noted the exact minute he left, the specific cars that picked him up, and the people he allowed into his space.

Isolation wasn't just a habit for you.

At work, you existed as a ghost, completely invisible. Outside those hours, the silence was defeaning.

You had never fit in. Since you were a child you were just a silent spectator standing on the outside while other kids ran, laughed, and existed in a warmth you couldn't touch. You were always the one watching from the shadows, entirely erased from their world.

But it was nothing compared to your childhood home. Inside those walls, your parents looked right through you.

There was no love, no care, no warmth.

Most of the time, you were met with silence. The only time they ever acknowledged you was out of necessity or when their resentment turned to rage. You learned very early that survival meant staying quiet, blending into the background.

Maybe that’s why you never learned how to love the right way.

Night after night, lying in the dark of your bedroom, your phone screen would illuminate your face as you systematically combed through his digital footprint. You memorized his posts, studied the shifting patterns of his followers and analyzed every interaction.

You wanted to finally be seen.

The standard neighborly small talk wasn’t enough. You needed everything.

But words had always failed you. So, you relied on the one skill that had kept you alive your entire life: you watched.

Some might call it obsessive, but to you, it was the only way to finally make him notice you.

So, you slowly began making your way into his friend group.

Hongjoong, one of his friends, worked at a café near your workplace. You began stopping by in the mornings before your shift. When he worked at the register, you often found yourself chatting with him. It was nothing meaningful, but just enough to make him remember you.

After some time, you began sitting with Hongjoong during his breaks at the café. The two of you would joke around, laugh together or you would simply listen to him talk about the music he was currently obsessed with.

In these conversations, you were practically mirroring his interests. You stayed up late to look at his socials, just to have something to bring up in your next conversation.

Each step you took was aimed at getting closer to San, to be noticed, to become a presence in his life.

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

One evening at closing hour, you were sitting with Hongjoong as usual, simply talking, until someone walked in.

You froze.

It was San.

Hongjoong stood up to greet him. “Hey man, thanks for picking me up! I'm glad to see you,” he exclaimed happily.

You stared blankly at the two of them as they were having a conversation, suddenly feeling out of place. Then, San looked at the person Hongjoong had been talking to earlier.

"Oh hello, didn’t think you guys knew each other," he smiled at you.

Your mind was racing. You didn’t expect him to be here, you weren’t prepared. So you just greeted him with a simple hi, while smiling back at him.

Luckily, Hongjoong chimed in. "You two know each other?"

"Not really, she’s my neighbor. We sometimes talk when we see each other," San said, still looking at you.

"Oh, that’s cool! I’ve been talking to ____ for a while now. She’s keeping me company… unlike you guys, who almost never visit me at work," he sneered.

San turned to him laughing: "Well, if you wouldn’t cancel on us every time we ask you to come over, maybe the others would stop by too."

"Next time I’ll be there, I promise," he whined. "Speaking of that," Hongjoong looked at you. "Why don’t you come too? I mean, it would be nice to have someone like you there. The other guys surely wouldn’t have anything against it."

This was the moment you’ve been waiting for. This was the moment you’ve worked so hard for. "Sure, I’ll come," you said, trying to keep your voice steady.

When you got home that day, you couldn’t sleep.

You had to be prepared.

You had to put on the same fake persona just like you did with Hongjoong. You didn’t know who exactly would be there, which was rather unfortunate, but just when you started to lose hope, you suddenly got a text from Hongjoong.

hongjoong: heyyy, we’re gonna meet up at san‘s tmrw at 6pm :D

hongjoong: I already asked woo, mingi and yeosang if they're okay with you coming and ofc they said yes!

you: yayy thank you :) you: should i bring anything ?

hongjoong: noo, no need to bring anything, we’re gonna order something anyway

you: alrighty, thank you for having me :D

hongjoong: no need to thank me, i’m happy to finally see you outside of my work place !!

hongjoong: see you then <3

Hunched over your laptop, you scanned their profiles, trying to claw together every scrap of information you could find. Luckily, Wooyoung and Mingi were pretty active on their socials, constantly reposting stuff and posting their daily activities. Yeosang, however, was like a ghost. Every single one of his accounts was locked down tight, completely private.

Once your research was done, you finally crawled into bed.

You were so close, so close to finally getting what you wanted. To be noticed, to be remembered, to be a part of his life.

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

You were restless, it was already 4am, still scrolling on you phone.

When suddenly San’s latest post flashed in front of your eyes. He was at the beach, wearing nothing but swim shorts, posing effortlessly for the camera. There was nothing inherently sexual about it, there really wasn't, just a sweet, casual update to show what he had been up to.

The background captured a sunset, the fading light catching the sweat glistening across his abs, framing that signature grin that deepened his dimples.

You stared at the picture.

Heat was already pooling between your thighs. It felt gross getting off to a picture that was meant to be entirely innocent, but the longing had built up for too long, and he looked too devastatingly beautiful to ignore. You gave in.

Holding the phone in one hand, your free hand slowly slipped beneath the waistband of your panties. They were already damp, the friction alone sending a jolt straight to your clit. A soft whimper escaped you at the contact, your eyes never leaving the screen. Pushing the fabric aside, you slid a finger between your folds. You moaned softly against the quiet of the room, slicking yourself as you began to massage the bundle of nerves, desperately pretending it was his hand instead of your own.

Your fingers trailed downward, teasing your entrance. His whimpered his name when you finally pushed a finger inside, wanting it to be him so badly. You pictured him holding you tight, his frame pinning you down as he prepped you for him.

Adding a second finger, you let out a breathless moan, you imagined how his fingers would feel inside you, how much larger, thicker and longer his fingers would be. You were so close by now, not just because of the stimulation of your own hands, but because of the thought of him doing this to you.

When you finally peaked, you cried out his name, ragged breaths escaping you as the high rippled through your body.

And still, that damn picture remained open on your screen.

You should have felt a wave of shame, but as you looked at him, how could you?

Not when it felt this good.

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

Standing before his door, a sudden wave of nervousness washed over you

You had prepared for this moment, but actually being here felt entirely different than managing Hongjoong.

You knew exactly how naive and easily manipulated Hongjoong was. But you hadn't met the rest yet.

This wasn’t just about stepping inside his apartment, this was entering his life.

Whispering a silent prayer that everything would unfold exactly as planned, you finally knocked. Only a few seconds passed before the door swung open. San stood there, looking down at you with a gentle, unsuspecting smile. He greeted you warmly, stepping aside to invite you into his space.

The rest of the guys were gathered in the living room, the low hum of their conversation fading as you entered. Hongjoong was the first to approach, closing the distance to wrap you in a welcoming hug.

"I am so happy you're finally here," he beamed, breaking the hug to point toward the couch. "That's Wooyoung sitting on the right," he laughed softly. "You've probably seen him around a few times already, considering that he practically lives at San’s place."

In fact, you had. You had seen everyone who had crossed that threshold over the past few months.

Wooyoung stood up, offering his hand with a gentle grin. "Hey____, Hongjoong hasn't stopped talking about you since we arrived. It's a pleasure to finally meet you."

Cute, you thought, maintaining your composure.

"Oh, wow, I definitely didn't expect that from him," you replied, effortlessly mirroring his warm smile to mask the thoughts running through your head. "The pleasure is all mine."

After smoothly introducing yourself to the rest of the group, you sat next to Wooyoung, who was seated at the opposite of San.

You were officially on the inside and they had absolutely no idea who they had just let through that door.

While engaging in a conversation with Wooyoung, you smoothly dropped a few subtle hints about things you already knew he liked. You kept it low, just a passing mention here and there, purely to make yourself seem more intriguing and perfectly aligned with his interests.

He took the bait effortlessly. He talked a lot about his bond with the others. He reminisced about how San and he had known each other since middle school and how they had been inseparable ever since.

Talking to Wooyoung was easy, he was genuinely nice and open, but as he spoke, you found yourself secretly wishing it was San opening to you with that level of freedom. You couldn't help but steal glances across the room. San was sitting there, laughing carelessly at something Yeosang had said. A wave of jealousy hit you. It irritated you that someone else was the reason behind that smile. But you forced the feeling down. Not today. Today wasn't about conquering San just yet, it was about becoming part of his inner circle.

You had to play the long game.

You couldn't afford to overplay your hand.

The rest of the evening carried on effortlessly. After ordering food, you began engaging with the others too, applying the same charm you had used on Wooyoung, slowly weaving your way into their trust, one conversation at a time.

When you saw San walking to the kitchen to wash the dishes, you followed him.

"Need any help with that?"you asked innocently.

He smiled at you. “Sure, I could use a helping hand.”

You stood next to him, drying off a plate as he washed the next.

"Oh, I just remembered," you chimed in, "I saw that you have some Pokémon cards displayed on your shelf. I actually love collecting them too."

San looked at you, surprised. "What? No way! I’ve been obsessed with Pokémon since I was little. The others always tease me for still liking them."

"Me too," you replied smoothly. "People always told me my interests were childish, but I stay true to myself. I have some rare cards at my place," you smiled, "You should come over and take a look sometime."

"That is a great idea! It’s so nice to finally have someone to talk to about stuff like that," San said flashing a warm smile.

You actually did own a few cards yourself, but you had only bought them because your research showed that he liked them.

San and you talked for a long time about his interests, and coincidentally, you seemed to love most of them too. The conversation felt completely natural. You knew him inside and out and San just like the others ate it all up. As you stood there chatting, you felt a deep sense of pride. You were officially in.

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

The evening went on. You laughed and smiled with the others, but your mind was stuck in that kitchen. It was the first time San had actually looked at you, really looked at you and that feeling was intoxicating.

When it was finally time to leave, you played your part perfectly, thanking everyone for being so kind.

But the moment you closed your apartment door behind you, the fake smile dropped. You were practically trembling with excitement. Everything was falling into place perfectly. You were getting closer to your goal. Just as you were getting ready for bed, your phone buzzed.

hongjoong: hii thanks for keeping us company!!

hongjoong: the others loved having you around you should come next time and meet the others too :)

you: yea that would be nice, I enjoyed hanging out with you guys a lot ! :D

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

After that night, your plan accelerated. You made sure to hang out with them constantly. They even added you to their group chat. You successfully made the others love you, but more importantly, you crawled your way into San's life.

Soon, you were staying late at his place, long after the others had left. You would sit on the balcony alone with him in the dark, listening to him talk about everything and everyone.

With every secret he shared, the obsession inside you grew heavier, suffocating and deep. He was opening up his heart to you.

You were inside his head now.

You owned a piece of him.

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

One night as you were laying in your bed mindlessly scrolling through your phone, Your heart skipped a beat. It was San.

san <3: heyy, you still up? :D

You paused for a second, forcing yourself to wait so you wouldn't seem desperate, even though your pulse was racing.

you: hiii yea

You stared at the screen, watching the little typing dots appear and disappear.

san <3: do you wanna come over ?

san <3: I can’t sleep and I really want someone to talk to, just us

Your grip tightened on the phone.

Just us.

The words felt like a victory.

You had spent months planning for this, shifting your whole life just to fit into his. And now, he was reaching out for you in the middle of the night.

you: sure, I can come over, give me five minutes :)

san <3: Thank you, seriously

san <3: see you then :D

You threw the covers off, a smile spreading across your face in the shadows of your room. You threw on some casual clothes, making sure it looked like you hadn't tried too hard and left your apartment.

He was lonely.

He was vulnerable.

And he had chosen you over everyone else.

· · ─ ·ʚɞ· ─ · ·

"You're actually here", he said softly, a small, grateful smile tugging at his lips. "Thanks for coming. I know it's late."

"Of course," you replied, your voice warm and innocent. "I'm always here for you, San. You know that".

Always

You took off your shoes, tracking the familiar layout of his apartment. A layout you had memorized long before you ever set foot inside it.

He led you over to the balcony, the same one where you had always sat with him when the others left and it was just the two of you. The apartment was silent. There was no Wooyoung, no Yeosang to take his attention away from you.

You had him all to yourself.

"I couldn't shut my brain off," San admitted, sitting down and pulling his knees up to his chest. He looked small, vulnerable. "Everything just feels.. loud tonight. The guys are great, but sometimes I feel like I have to keep up a certain image around them you know? With you, ____, it's just.. different. It's easy."

You sat down next to him, close enough that your shoulders almost touched. You could feel the warmth radiating off him. Every instinct inside you wanted to reach out, to wrap your hands around him and never let go, but you kept your movements slow, deliberate. You played the role of the perfect, comforting friend.

"You don't have to pretend around me" you said softly, looking into his eyes. "You can tell me anything. I won't ever judge you."

He turned his head to look at you, his dark eyes searching yours in the dim light of the lamp.

He believed you. He completely, entirely trusted you.

"Sometimes I feel so lonely, even when I'm surrounded by people" San whispered, his voice cracking slightly as he confessed this. "Is that weird?"

"No,” you murmured, reaching out to gently touch his arm. Your skin tingled at the contact. "It's not weird at all. But you don't have to be lonely anymore. I'm right here."

San stared at your hand on his arm, then looked up at you, his eyes shining with intense, raw emotion. He leaned in just a bit closer. You smiled at him in the dark. You had finally crawled under his skin.

San breathed out a long shaky sigh, letting his forehead rest against your shoulder. The sudden weight of his body against yours sent tingling sensation through your body. It took every ounce of your selfcontrol to keep your breathing steady, to not let him hear how fast your heart was beating.

"I don't know what I would do without you" he spoke, his voice muffled against your arm. "You just.. you came into my life out of nowhere and now I can't imagine you not being here."

Out of nowhere

He really thought it was fate.

He had absolutely no idea about the months of planning, the sleepless nights.

He thought it was just a beautiful accident.

"I’m not going anywhere, San" you whispered, resting your chin on top of his head. You raised your hand and slowly ran your fingers through his soft, dark hair. Comforting him like a good friend would, but inside your grip felt possessive."I’ll always be right here. No matter what".

San relaxed completely under your touch, melting into the embrace.

You looked past him, staring out into the dark city. The shadows seemed to wrap around the two of you, isolating you from the rest of the world. There was no going back.

You weren't just a part of his circle anymore, you were becoming his entire world.

"Let's just stay like this for a while," San whispered, closing his eyes.

"As long as you want," you replied, your voice sweet and comforting. You stared down at him in the dim light, a smirk touching your lips.

Neither of you moved. San’s breathing soon slowed down, becoming deep and even as he drifted into sleep against your shoulder. The trust he placed in you was heavy, physical and addictive. You sat perfectly still, refusing to move even an inch, terrified of breaking the spell.

A quiet, breathless laugh escaped your lips, so soft it didn't even disturb him. It was almost funny, how easy it had been. A few practiced lines and he had handed you the keys to his soul.

You looked back down at his sleeping face. Without his usual sharp, energetic expressions, San looked fragile. You leaned down just a fraction, your breath brushing against his hair.

"You have no idea, do you?" you whispered into the dark.

You thought about the others, Hongjoong, Wooyoung, the rest of the group. They thought you were just a nice, supportive friend. They would keep inviting you over, keep pushing you closer to him, completely unaware.

Soon they wouldn't matter anymore.

Soon, he wouldn't need them at all.

San stirred slightly, murmuring something as he gripped the fabric of your hoodie a little tighter, pulling himself closer to your warmth. Your smile widened in the shadows. You wrapped your arm tighter around his waist, locking him against you. Every step, every lie, every move had led to this exact moment.

He was entirely yours now, asleep in your arms. And you were never going to let him go.

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

You had been sitting on the outdoor bench for some hours by now, wrapped in the chilling dawn, but you barely felt the cold. The weight of San sleeping soundly against your shoulder was all that mattered. Your shoulder was stiff and a dull ache was blooming across your back from sitting upright for so long, but you welcomed the pain.

Slowly, you reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You opened the group chat next. There were dozens of unread messages from Mingi, Yunho and the others, talking about plans for the upcoming weekend, joking around, being a family.

You stared at their names on the screen, feeling a cold sense of detachment. They really believed you were one of them now.

You looked down at San, whose face was still buried in the crook of your neck.

They don't know you like I do They never will

With extreme care, so as not to wake him, you raised the phone and angled the camera. The screen captured the two of you framed by the fading shadows. San, vulnerable and asleep, clinging tightly to your hoodie and you looking directly into the lens with a calm smile. You took the photo. You didn't send it to the group chat. Not yet. That would be too messy.

San shifted, his eyelashes fluttering against your skin as he let out a soft sigh, settling even deeper into your embrace. You slid your phone back into your pocket.

San’s grip on your hoodie loosened slightly. He let out a soft, contented hum, his face turning toward your neck, his breath warm against your skin. You raised your hand again, lightly tracing the line of his jaw with the tip of your finger, barely touching the surface so he wouldn't wake up.

You owned this version of him now. The version no one else gets to see.

Suddenly, his phone on the small balcony table buzzed, the vibration loud against the metal surface.

New Message: Wooyoung

You didn't even have to blink to read it from where you sat.

woo: hey, you up? heading out early, want me to pick you up ?

A spark of irritation flared in your chest, but it vanished just as quickly, being replaced by a feeling of superiority. San stirred at the sound, his eyes slowly fluttering open. He blinked against the dim morning light, looking disoriented for a fraction of a second before his gaze focused entirely on your face.

For a moment you held your breath, wondering if the morning light would bring regret or hesitation into his eyes.

Instead San just smiled, a sleepy, soft grin. He didn't pull away. He tightened his arms around you, shivering slightly against the cold morning air, before finally sitting up and rubbing his eyes.

"You stayed," he whispered, his voice thick with sleep. "You were out here with me the whole time."

"Of course I stayed," you said, your voice dripping with sweet devotion. You offered him a gentle, reassuring smile, masking the screaming in your head. "I told you. I’m not going anywhere."

He looked at his buzzing phone on the table, then looked back at you, a choice forming in his mind. He didn't reach for it. He just let it buzz until it went completely silent.

"Thank you," San said softly, looking at you as if you were the only person left in his world.

"Anytime," you replied, standing up on the chilly balcony and stretching your stiff muscles, already planning your next move.

San shivered slightly. He wrapped his arms tightly around himself, his eyes still fixed on you with a quiet, desperate kind of gratitude.

"It's freezing out here," he murmured, "We should go inside."

"You go ahead," you said softly, giving his shoulder a gentle, reassuring pat. "I should probably head back to my place”.

San’s face fell instantly. The thought of you leaving hit him like a physical blow. He stood up quickly, taking a step towards you. "No, wait. You don't have to leave. Just.. stay for breakfast? Please?"

· · ─ · ✝︎ · ─ · ·

San kept his back turned to you as he busied himself with the coffee maker, but you could see the slight tension in his shoulders just because you were in the room. The kitchen was filled with the soft sounds of clinking mugs and dripping water, a perfectly domestic scene that you had constructed in your mind a thousand times before.

You walked over to the kitchen counter and leaned against the edge.

"Black coffee, right?" San asked, turning around with two mugs in his hands.

You smiled softly. You hadn't even told him how you took your coffee, but of course he had noticed it during the hangouts. You had made sure to order it exactly how he liked it back then, just to create another invisible thread between you.

"Perfect, you know me so well," you smiled, taking the mug from him. Your fingers brushed against his and you caught the slight hitch in his breath.

San leaned against the counter next to you, blowing softly onto his coffee. "I feel like I'm finally starting to relax. It's crazy.. a few months ago, we didn't even know each other. Now, I feel like you're the only person who actually looks at me and sees me"

"That's because the others see what you let them see, San," you said smoothly, keeping your voice low, "But with me, you don't have to hide. I see every part of you and I'm not going anywhere."

San looked down at his mug, a soft, almost vulnerable smile forming on his lips. "I don't think I'd let you leave even if you wanted to."

It was meant to be a lighthearted joke, a sweet comment from a grateful friend. But to you, it was the truth.

Just then, your phone vibrated in your pocket. You pulled it out, looking down at the screen.

New Message from: wooyoung in: hangouts

You stared at the message for a second, a cold smile touching your lips. They were still trying to include you, still trying to pull you into their dynamic.

You didn't need them anymore.

You had the prize.

"Who is it?" San asked, glancing at your phone.

"Just Wooyoung," you replied carelessly, turning the screen off and putting the phone face down on the counter. You looked back up at San. "It's nothing important. Let's just focus on us this morning"

San’s eyes widened slightly at your directness, but the genuine look in your eyes made him relax again. He nodded, completely shutting out the rest of the world, completely yours.

San set his mug down on the counter. The silence in the kitchen grew heavy, thick with a strange tension. The rest of the world seemed to fade away, leaving nothing but the two of you.

"Just us," San repeated softly, testing the words out loud. A faint smile touched his lips. "I like the sound of that."

"I do too," you whispered.

You took a slow step closer to him, closing the small distance between your bodies. San didn't step back. Instead his posture softened, his chest rising and falling in a slow, steady rhythm as he looked down at you. He was entirely focused on your presence, craving the validation you had spent for months calculating exactly how to give him.

Slowly you raised your hand and placed it flat against his chest, right over his heart. You could feel it thumping beneath the fabric.

"You look tired" you murmured, your voice dropping to a soothing, innocent tone. "You should rest. You don't have to carry everything by yourself anymore. Let me handle it."

San covered your hand with his own, his fingers warm and slightly trembling as he pressed your palm deeper into his chest. "I feel like I can finally breathe when you're around," he confessed, his voice dropping to a whisper. "Like the noise in my head just.. stops."

"Then let it stop," you replied, giving him a small, comforting smile.

You guided him away from the kitchen counter and back toward the living room, leading him by the hand. He followed you without resistance, completely compliant, like a puppy following his owner. You made him sit back down on the couch and before he could say anything, you sat right beside him, pulling a soft blanket over both of your laps.

San immediately leaned his head back against the cushions, closing his eyes as a deep, shuddering sigh escaped his lips. The exhaustion was finally catching up to him and he was letting it happen because he felt entirely safe in your hands.

You watched him as his breathing began to steady once more. Your phone vibrated again in your pocket, another meaningless notification from them, no doubt, but you didn't even bother to check it.

You didn't need to.

You leaned your head back against the couch, a smile spreading across your face in the quiet morning light as you watched him drift off to sleep again, right beside you.

As San’s breathing deepened into a heavy, sleep, the soft mask you’ve been wearing all night and morning completely melted away.

You turned your head, eyes wide and unblinking, locking onto his sleeping face with pure want. A shiver ran down your spine.

Slowly, you leaned over him. You brought your face so close to his that you could feel the hot, steady puff of his breath against your lips. You inhaled sharply, swallowing his air, drinking him in until your lungs burned. It’s sick, knowing that right now, you are the only thing keeping him safe, even though you are the very thing he needs to be saved from.

You brought your hand out from under the blanket. Your fingers hovered over his face. Gently, the tip of your index finger touched his bottom lip, pressing down just enough to part them slightly. You traced the shape of his mouth, your pupils dilated in the dim golden light of the morning.

"Mine" you whispered, the word whisper in the quiet room. "Every piece of you.. every breath."

You slid your hand up, burying your fingers deep into his dark hair, gripping the strands tightly. You pulled just enough to tilt his head back, exposing the vulnerable line of his throat. You looked down at the pulse thumbing beneath his skin.

You want to leave a mark.

You want to bite down until he bleeds, just so he wakes up and realizes that your teeth are the only things holding his world together. But you restrained yourself.

Instead, you leaned down and pressed your open lips against the side of his neck, right over his pulse. You lingered there, feeling the thud against your skin, taking a slow, deep breath of his scent. You pressed a hard, lingering kiss into his skin, leaving an invisible seal of your love.

San stired slightly in his sleep, a tiny, distressed whimper escaping his throat as if your dark thoughts are bleeding into his dreams. He moved closer, his hands blindly reaching out to grasp the fabric of the hoodie that you are wearing. He clings to you like a drowning man, burying his face back into your chest.

A soft, breathless chuckle escaped your throat.

On the table, his phone lit up again. Wooyoung is calling now. The screen flashed with his name over and over.

You don't even look at it. You took San’s hand, locking your fingers with his, pressing his palm flat against your own chest so he can feel how violently your heart is beating for him. You smiled, leaning your head against his.

He thinks he’s safe.

He thinks he’s loved.

And he’s right, but it’s a love that will consume him entirely.

San’s whimper dies down, replaced by the rhythm of his breathing. His fingers still tightly knotted into the fabric of your hoodie. You looked down at his hand, admiring the way his knuckles look against your chest. You placed your free hand over his, squeezing just hard enough to let the pressure border on painful.

You want him to feel you, even in the depths of his subconscious.

The phone on the table finally stops ringing. The screen goes black, cutting Wooyoung off.

You leaned back slightly, pulling a stray lock of San’s dark hair between your fingers. You twirl it tightly, pulling it just enough to feel the resistance of his scalp. Your eyes wandered across his face, tracking every single detail, the tiny mole on his cheek, the curve of his eyelashes, the slight parting of his lips. You’ve already memorized these details.

"You have no idea how perfect this is" you whispered, your voice dropping into a quiet purr right against his ear. "They're going to keep looking for you. They're going to wonder why you're changing. But you're only changing for me."

Slowly, you shifted your weight, carefully sliding your leg over his lap beneath the heavy blanket. You positioned yourself over him, pinning his lower body down with your own. He doesn't wake up, too exhausted, too deeply comforted by your warmth. You looked down at him from above.

You reached down to gently touch his eyelids, smoothing them down with the pads of your thumbs.

Keep them closed

Don't look for anything else

Don't look at anyone else

Your phone vibrated against your thigh. A soft, muffled buzz. You didn’t even have to look to know what it is. The groupchat is probably alive with morning plans, entirely unaware that one of their bestest friends has already been stolen right under their noses.

You slipped your hand back beneath his chin, lifting his head just a fraction more. You leaned down, your lips hovering mere millimeter above his. You could taste the warmth of his breath. You don't kiss him, not yet. Instead, you just breathed him in, watching his chest rise and fall against yours.

"Sleep, Sannie.." you whispered against his lips. "I've got you.. I've got you forever."

Your pulse thumped wildly beneath your skin. You shifted your weight slightly, pressing yourself harder against him, feeling his body trapped beneath yours.

"Look at you," you breathed out, the whisper scraping against his skin. "So quiet.. so safe."

You leaned down further, pressing your cheek against his, letting your hair fall around his face like a curtain, shutting out the rest of the world. The smell of his cologne, the heat radiating from his skin, the soft fabric your clothes crushing between your bodies, it’s a sensory overload, a high that you never want to come down from. You wrapped your arms completely around his torso, squeezing him so tightly that your muscles ache, burying your face in the crook of his neck.

You want to merge with him.

You want to leave your scent so deeply embedded into his skin that no amount of scrubbing will ever wash it away.

On the table, the phone screen flashes again.

1 Missed Call: Wooyoung

New Message: Hongjoong

joong: hey man, we're leaving in 20. you ready?

You lifted your head just enough to look at his face one more time. A single, strand of your hair lies across his cheek. You leave it there, a tiny mark of your presence. You leaned in, your lips brushing the corner of his mouth in a ghost of a kiss, tasting the warmth of his skin.

"They can keep calling," you spoke into the space between your lips. "But you're not going to answer, are you?”

The phone on the table gives a long vibration. Not a text this time.

A Facetime call. The screen lit up, casting a harsh blue reflection against the wall. Wooyoung.

At this point you’re starting to get annoyed.

You reached over, your arm draping completely across San's chest as you grabbed his phone from the table. Your thumb sliding across the screen, completely powering the device off. The screen goes black.

You dropped the dead phone onto the floor, letting it clatter against the hardwood and wrapped both arms back around him, locking him beneath you in the quiet of the room. You pressed your forehead against his, your breathing completely synchronized with his.

San’s body reacted to the sudden silence of the dead phone, his muscles going completely slack again. The absolute quiet of the apartment closes in around the two of you, heavy and thick.

You remain draped over him, your chest rising and falling in perfect synchronization with his.

Slowly, you lifted your hand and began to trace the outline of his face again, but this time your movements are different. Your fingertips press firmly against his cheekbone, dragging down to his jaw, feeling the structure of his bone beneath the skin. You grip his chin, tilting his face up toward yours.

"Wake up, Sannie.." you breathed, your voice a dark whisper right against his ear. "Look at what you've done. Look at where you are."

His long eyelashes fluttered. A low, confused groan escaped his throat as the heavy layers of sleep began to peel away. He blinked against the bright morning light, his eyes unfocused and swimming with confusion. For a second, he looked around the room, trying to orient himself, trying to remember how he ended up pinned to his own couch.

Then his eyes lock onto yours.

The confusion in his gaze instantly deepened. You don't move an inch.

"What.." San’s voice is rough, cracked from sleep and dry from the cold morning air. He glances down at your hand firmly gripping his chin, then looks toward the floor where his dead phone lies. "..Wooyoung.. what time is it?"

"It doesn't matter," you say smoothly, a wide smile spreading across your face. You leaned down closer, until your lips are almost touching. "They called. But I turned it off."

Instantly, you notice San’s body tensing beneath you and your mask of absolute, tender care slips back into place.

In a fluid motion, you lift your weight off him, sliding off his hips to sit normally beside him on the couch. Your intense, fixed gaze instantly transforms into an expression of deep and warm concern. You brush a stray lock of hair from his forehead, your fingers completely calm and soothing now.

"Hey.. Sannie, it's okay," you spoke in a soft, comforting voice. You took his trembling hand in yours, squeezing it reassuringly. "You were shaking so badly in your sleep. I think you were having a really awful nightmare."

San blinked, the panic in his eyes slowly turning to confusion.

"A.. nightmare?" he murmured hoarsely, rubbing his eyes. He looks at you and all he sees is the person who has patiently stayed by his side all night.

"I'm right here, you're safe," you said with a warm, innocent smile.

"You're just completely overworked," you continue, tracing soothing circles on the back of his hand. "The guys called earlier, yeah.. I muted your phone and put it away for a bit. You were just so deeply asleep, I felt so bad for you. I didn't want them waking you up when you clearly need the rest so desperately. They will definitely understand if you just call them back in a few hours, mhm?"

San looked down at the floor where the phone is lying and then back up at you. In his exhausted state, it all makes perfect sense.

"Thank you.." he whispered. He scoots a little closer to you, instinctively seeking your warmth and tiredly rests his head on your shoulder. "I really don't know what I'd do without you right now."

You wrapped your arm around him, stroking his back in steady, calming motions, staring out into the empty room with a peaceful, utterly innocent smile.

The soft, comforting strokes change, subtly. Your fingers became slower, heavier, more deliberate.

You slip your hand beneath the warm fabric, tracing your cool fingertips over his hot, bare skin. Your thumb brushed against his sensitive skin. A quiet, involuntary shiver ripples through his body. He takes a deeper breath, his head still resting heavily on your shoulder as he presses himself even closer to you.

"You're so hot, Sannie.." you murmured into his ear, your voice low and deep. You inhaled the scent of him like a drug, your lips dragging painfully slow across his earlobe. "Completely flushed from your little nightmare".

You let your hand wander further up, across his chest, until your fingers felt the rapid hammering rhythm of his heart. You pressed your palm flat against it, drinking in the bare heat of his body. With your other hand, you gently fisted his hair, pulling his head back just enough to tilt his face up toward yours.

San opened his eyes just a fraction. He looks at you, seeing the dark, almost hungry glow in your eyes.

You leaned in, pressing your lips to his, not a gentle kiss, but a slow, possessive, wet claim that steals the air from his lungs. San lets out a soft gasp into your mouth, his hands clutching your sides, as he gave in. He started kissing you back with the same intense longing you had for him. You moaned softly, when his tongue finally entered your lips.

A soft, breathless moan escaped your throat the moment his lips parted yours and his tongue finally entered your mouth. The tension that had been building between you both dissolved into an all consuming heat.

Neither of you wanted to stop, each kiss growing hungrier than the last.

You slid your fingers up into the dark strands of his hair, gripping tight and pulling at the roots. The sharp tug earned a rough groan from him that vibrated directly into your mouth.

He started massaging your sides, drawing you even close, until you were on top of him.

The heat of his chest pressed against yours. His hands shifted from your sides, sliding down to grip your hips with a possessive force. The kiss broke for a moment, both of you gasping for air. You could feel the thudding of his heart against your chest.

Every boundary he had ever had, melted away in this moment. You angled your head deeper, your fingers digging into his skin.

He was drowning in you.

You felt him growing hard beneath you. Without giving him a second to think, you began grinding down on him, your hips rolling in a slow, torturous rhythm that drove your weight directly against his length. He broke the kiss with a sharp, ragged gasp, a breathless moan tearing from his throat at your sudden movement.

You didn't let him recover. You started trailing hot, openmouthed kisses along the side of his neck, your teeth sinking in to nibble his skin just hard enough to leave a mark, claiming him inch by inch. San whimpered underneath you, his hands moved up and down your body, his fingers travelling lower digging in to squeeze your ass while holding you down, desperately trying to keep you flush against his chest, as if he would lose you if he let go for even a fraction of a second.

"You look so beautiful like this, Sannie," you breathed out right underneath his ear. "So pretty.. so vocal. Just for me."

He didn't answer with words, he couldn't. He just pressed harder, his hands sliding down to grip your thighs, setting a faster, more punishing pace from beneath you. The friction through your clothes was almost unbearable, sending sparks straight to your core. You arched into him, meeting his frantic rhythm, the overwhelming sensation building a tight knot in your stomach that made you dizzy.

Right when you felt him getting dangerously close to the edge, you stopped moving your hips. You broke the contact completely, shifting your body to kneel on the floor right between his spread legs. San whined at the sudden loss of your warmth. When he forced his sleepy, glazed eyes open, he looked down at you, completely mesmerized by your features.He leaned his upper body down, fisting his hands into your hair to pull you into a deep, bruising kiss.

Moaning directly into his mouth, you began sliding your hands up and down his thick, muscular thighs, feeling the way the muscles contracted and twitched beneath your palms. You started palming him right through his pants, your hand wrapping around his length and squeezing. San groaned into your mouth, swallowing the sound right away as his body shuddered.

He was painfully hard by now, his cock already leaking and leaving a dark, prominent wet patch on the fabric of his joggers.

You broke the kiss, dragging your mouth down to place heavy, wet, openmouthed kisses to the base of him through the fabric. His head fell back against the couch cushions, his eyes tightly closed as a breathless gasp escaped him. The worship of your touch was overwhelming, an addiction he knew he could never get enough of.

Finally, you hooked your fingers into the waistband of his pants and underwear, slowly pulling his fully exposed, leaking length out into the dim light. You stared up at it, your chest heaving. He was even more beautiful than you had ever imagined. With your fingertips, you traced slowly along the pulsing veins, watching how his lower stomach twitched at the featherlight touch.

"____, please... need you, need you s'bad," he moaned, prying open his heavy eyes just enough to look down at you, his gaze filled with need.

You smiled, starting with light, kittenlicks across the tip, earning a jolt from him at the sudden, wet sensation. You took just the head into your mouth, sucking at a brutally, agonizingly slow pace. San was an absolute mess beneath you, the combination of the dry humping and the work of your mouth already had him hovering right on the edge.

Then while looking into his dark, glazy eyes, you sank lower, taking him in inch by inch into the heat of your throat. You swirled your tongue completely around him, tasting his skin.Your pace quickened, eyes never leaving his face. You felt him twitch in your mouth, indicating that he was getting closer.

This only spurred you on, finally tasting what you had been longing for so obsessively driving you crazy.

"I'm so close, s'close..." he groaned, his voice cracking, his hands blindly fisting into the fabric of the cushions.

After a few more flicks of your tongue, you felt him snap. He came heavily into your mouth, thick, white-hot spurts hitting the back of your throat. You swallowed every single drop he gave you, draining him completely, leaving nothing behind.

As San was still coming down from his high, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath, you stood up. You immediately propped yourself right back onto his lap, straddling him to take in the sight in front of you. He looked up at you with deep, shattered admiration in his eyes, completely under your spell.

"You can take another one, can you?" you smiled sweetly at him.

San couldn’t even reply, his brain too fogged from the overstimulation. He could only nod his head furiously, completely eager to give you whatever you wanted.

Without breaking eye contact, you threw off your pants and underwear, discarding them carelessly somewhere into the room. Taking his stillhard cock in your hand, you aligned the wet tip with your dripping hole. You sank down slowly, the sudden intrusion making both of you let out a loud, breathless moan.

The anticipation was overwhelming. You took him in completely, burying him deep inside you, and stayed like that for a few minutes, just to feel him pulse and throb inside your walls, locking him in place.

Then, you began to move. Slowly at first, you added the perfect mixture of grinding down and rolling your hips, creating a friction that drove you both out of your minds. San rested his head in the slope of your neck, groaning loudly from the sensation of your body crushing down on his.

You began quickening your pace, the friction between your bodies pushing you closer to the edge, the tight knot in your stomach threatening to snap.

"S'close, Sannie... want to fill me up? Want to make me yours?" you moaned softly, your breath hitching as you drove yourself down onto him.

"Please... all mine, so perfect..," he groaned, his voice completely broken, his hands gripping your waist. "You were made for me."

You both moved in perfect synchronization. Squeezing one last time around his cock, pulling him as deep inside your warmth as physically possible, you felt San finally tip over the edge. A wave of warmth filled you and that sensation alone was enough to make the knot in your core snap. Your body locked tightly around him as you came, a cry tearing from your lips.

San and you stayed like that for a long while, fused together in the quiet room where the only sound was your heavy, ragged breathing. You laid your head on San’s damp shoulder, closing your eyes and breathing in his scent.

When you felt that it was time, you slowly got up to lie down right next to him. You could already see him growing tired again, the exhaustion taking over as his eyelids threatened to close.

"Sleep tight, Sannie... I'll be here when you wake up," you spoke to him softly.

Snaking an arm around you, San pulled you closer against his chest, holding on with a tense grip, scared that if he let go, you’d just disappear and leave him alone in the dark. You couldn’t help but smile into the shadow of his neck at the desperation of his hold.

"I love you, ____," he whispered into the quiet, his voice already slipping into sleep.

“And what,” Lucifer asked patiently, “are you doing?”

“Interrupting you while you’re meditating.”

One amber eye cracked open. “I appreciate that you’ve stopped arguing with me.”

“I’ve learned it saves time.”

Lucifer hummed. “I suppose it does.” Seonghwa inclined his head. “The final arrangements have been completed.” Lucifer’s expression didn’t change. “The ballroom?”

“Prepared.”

“The guests?”

“Invitations accepted.”

“The musicians?”

“Waiting.”

“The kitchens?”

“Already at work.”

“Good.”

Seonghwa waited another moment before continuing. “Prince Yunho and Y/N returned approximately ten minutes ago.” Lucifer’s other eye opened. “They’re back?”

“Yes, Your Majesty.”

In one smooth movement, Lucifer rose to his feet. The glowing runes beneath him faded into the polished black floor as he adjusted the cuffs of his dark coat as a grin slowly spread across his face. “Come.” Seonghwa already knew where they were going. “Must we? Last time I walked into their chambers unannounced I found your daughter in law gripping your sons horn while…”

“Please stop talking.” Lucifer looked over one shoulder. “My son has just returned from his honeymoon.” Lucifer’s grin widened. “I haven’t seen him in days.”

“You’ve been scrying on him.”

“That doesn’t count.”

“It should.”

“It doesn’t.”

Before Seonghwa could argue further, Lucifer had already stepped into the corridor and with a quiet sigh that suggested centuries of experience dealing with this exact sort of behavior, Seonghwa followed. The walk through the palace was surprisingly short. Royal guards stationed around the corridor outside the prince’s chambers bowed immediately, stepping aside without a word. Lucifer didn’t bother knocking. He simply pushed the massive doors open and walked inside. The chambers were warm, filled with the familiar scent of sandalwood and old books. Several travel bags rested near the entrance as Yunho stood beside the wardrobe with his back partially turned, stacking the last of their luggage neatly against the wall, looking up at the sound of the door opening. “Father.”

From somewhere deeper in the chambers came the unmistakable rush of running water. The shower. Y/N was humming softly to herself behind the closed bathroom door, completely unaware they had visitors. Lucifer simply looked at his son. Really looked at him. The first thing he noticed wasn’t the luggage. Or the faint scent of the Mediterranean sea that still clung to his clothes. It wasn’t even Y/N’s scent woven so naturally into his own that, for the first time, Lucifer could no longer tell where one ended and the other began. No. It was his face. Four hundred years. Four centuries of watching Yunho carry the weight of immortality like a chain around his neck. Four hundred years of carefully hidden loneliness. Of duty. Of restraint. Of convincing himself he was destined to outlive anyone he dared care about. That burden…. was gone. Not completely but Lucifer knew better than anyone that love came with its own fears. But the emptiness that had lived behind his son’s eyes for centuries had vanished and in its place was something quieter.

Lucifer’s smile softened before he could stop it. He had seen that look only once before. A small cottage in Korea. Wildflowers growing outside the window. A stubborn young witch laughing because she’d just thrown salt at the Devil himself. He remembered catching his own reflection in a bucket of water days later. He had worn that same expression. He hadn’t realized it then. Not until years afterward. The same impossible softness. The same quiet certainty. The same terrifying realization that someone else’s happiness had somehow become more important than his own. Lucifer looked back at his son. “Well.”

Yunho frowned. “What?”

Lucifer folded his arms. “It finally happened.” Yunho stared at his father with a brow raised. “What did?” Lucifer’s smile became almost unbearably knowing. “You’ve fallen exactly as hard as I did. A rarety for those like us.” Yunho opened his mouth. Closed it. Then glanced instinctively toward the bathroom, where the water was still running beyond the closed door as Lucifer laughed. A rich, genuine laugh that echoed through the chambers. “There it is.”

Yunho looked back at him. “What?”

“That.” Lucifer pointed directly at him. “You looked toward the bathroom before you answered me.” Yunho frowned harder. “So?”

“So,” Lucifer said, unable to stop smiling, “four hundred years ago, every time someone asked me a question…” He nodded toward the bathroom door. “I looked to wherever your mother happened to be standing before I answered.” Yunho glanced back towards the bathroom as his father’s expression softened again. “You don’t even realize you’re doing it.” Yunho simply stood there in the middle of his chambers, surrounded by half unpacked luggage, listening to the distant sound of Y/N humming to herself in the shower. And somewhere deep down, he realized his father was right.

Lucifer let the silence linger for another few seconds, studying his son with an expression that had softened into something almost impossible for anyone outside the room to witness. It wasn’t the calculating gaze of the King of Hell. It wasn’t the ancient predator who had ruled Pandemonium since before most civilizations had learned to write. It was simply a father looking at his child and quietly appreciating that, after four centuries, the loneliness he’d watched consume him had finally begun to loosen its grip. Then, inevitably, the softness disappeared beneath a grin. “Now then.” Yunho sighed. “What.”

“I have news.”

“I was afraid you were going to say that.”

Lucifer clasped his hands behind his back, casually strolling farther into the chambers as though he owned the place. Which, technically… he did. “I’ve arranged a welcome banquet.” Yunho groaned. “You’ve arranged what?”

“A welcome banquet.”

“I heard that part.”

“It’s in Y/N’s honor.”

Yunho closed the wardrobe doors with considerably more force than necessary before slowly turning to face his father. “Father.”

“What?”

“We just got back.”

“I know.”

“Less than fifteen minutes ago.”

“I know.”

“The woman you’re throwing the banquet for is currently in the bathroom trying to wash the sand from Greece out of her hair.”

“I know.”

“And your solution to that…” Yunho gestured broadly around the room. “was to invite all of Hell over?” Lucifer looked genuinely confused. “Not all of Hell. Just the important people.” Yunho stared at him in exasperation. “That’s somehow worse.” Seonghwa, who had been quiet this entire time, remained near the doorway, wisely saying nothing Lucifer continued as though his son hadn’t spoken. “She’s the Princess of Hell now.”

“I know.”

“She’s my daughter in law.”

“I am aware.”

“The kingdom should meet her properly.”

“They’ve met her.”

“They’ve seen her.” Lucifer corrected him with a raised finger. “Those are two entirely different things.” Yunho rubbed both hands down his face. “Father…” Lucifer smiled. “Everything has already been arranged.”

“Cancel it.”

“No.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Father.”

“Son.”

Yunho exhaled sharply through his nose. “She doesn’t even know this place really yet.” His voice had lost its irritation now, replaced by something quieter. “She’s still adjusting. Not to mention how when someone bows to her and she looks behind herself because she thinks they’re greeting someone else.” Yunho’s gaze drifted unconsciously toward the bathroom door again, where the faint sound of running water still filled the chambers. “I don’t want her overwhelmed.” For the first time since entering the chambers, Lucifer’s expression grew thoughtful. He hadn’t been considering politics. Or appearances. Or royal expectations. He’d simply been excited. Excited to introduce the woman who had somehow managed to do what nothing else in four hundred years ever had. He looked at his son again. Really looked at him. Every objection Yunho had made… not one of them had been about himself. Not once had he complained about attending another royal function. Not once had he mentioned how exhausted he was after traveling. Every single concern had been for Y/N.

Lucifer smiled to himself. There it was again. Without realizing it… his son had started measuring the world by someone else’s comfort. “I can postpone it until tomorrow evening,” Lucifer said at last and Yunho blinked shocked. “Really?”

“I am capable of compromise.”

Seonghwa coughed politely. “Occasionally.” Lucifer ignored him. “Which brings me to the second reason I came.” Yunho’s expression immediately became suspicious again. “There was a first?”

“There were several.” Lucifer’s smile faded just enough for Yunho to recognize the shift. “Eres stopped by while you were away.” The room grew noticeably quieter as Yunho’s relaxed posture straightened. “Eres.”

“He wished to offer his congratulations.”

Yunho let out a humorless breath. “I’m sure he did.”

“He seemed… disappointed you hadn’t returned yet.”

“I imagine he was.”

Lucifer watched his son’s face carefully. “He also informed me his daughter is very distraught with your new wife.” Another long silence settled over the chambers. Behind the bathroom door, Y/N’s quiet humming continued, blissfully unaware that her name was already moving through the highest circles of Hell. Yunho’s eyes drifted toward the sound for only a moment before returning to his father. His voice, when he finally spoke, was calm. “Keep her away from her.” Lucifer raised an eyebrow. “Estrie is just…. different.”

“She’s a psychopath.” Yunho snapped and for a moment, neither Lucifer nor Seonghwa spoke. “I’ll have a word with Eres before the banquet.” Lucifer promised as the steady rush of water from the bathroom stopped. All three men looked instinctively toward the closed door and Yunho’s expression changed instantly. “She’s finished.” Lucifer followed his son’s gaze before an amused smile spread across his face. “I gathered as much.” A cabinet door opened somewhere inside the bathroom. Glass bottles clicking softly against marble. Drawers sliding open. The unmistakable sounds of someone finishing a shower. Yunho looked back at his father. “You should probably…”

“I should.” Lucifer nodded in complete agreement. “I have no desire to be standing in my son’s chambers when my daughter in law walks out wrapped in nothing but a towel.” Seonghwa cleared his throat. “I was trying very hard not to be the one to say it.”

“You shouldn’t have to.” Lucifer adjusted the cuffs of his jacket before making his way toward the door. As he passed Yunho, he paused just long enough to clap a hand against his son’s shoulder. “I’m happy for you.” There wasn’t a hint of teasing in his voice this time. Just quiet sincerity. Yunho met his father’s eyes for a brief moment before giving a small nod. “Thanks.” Lucifer smiled once more before heading for the doorway as Seonghwa inclined his head politely toward the prince. “I’ll have preparations adjusted for tomorrow evening.”

“I appreciate it.”

The massive doors swung shut behind them with a muted thud just as Y/N stepped out of the bathroom, a large black towel wrapped securely around her, another smaller one draped over her shoulders as she rubbed at her damp hair. Wisps of steam escaped around her, carrying the scent of lavender and sandalwood into the room as she looked around curiously. “Were you talking to someone?” Yunho couldn’t help smiling. “My father.” He walked over, gently taking the smaller towel from around her shoulders before beginning to dry the ends of her hair himself. “They left about five seconds before you came out.” Y/N let him keep drying at her hair with the towel before brushing past him towards the wardrobe. Yunho watched her, moving to lean against the dark marbled vanity. She glanced towards him with an easy smile. “Would you hand me that brush?” He reached across the vanity, passing it to her before quietly. “I know you can hear me pretending not to watch,” he admitted as she dropped the towel she had on.

A laugh escaped her. “I was wondering how long that would last.” With an amused shake of her head, she tossed the towel onto the nearby chair and began getting dressed without the slightest hint of self consciousness around him. There was something different now. Greece had changed them both. The uncertainty that had existed between them in those first days after the binding had disappeared completely now, replaced by an effortless comfort. She slipped into a flowing black crocheted dress that hugged her figure she got back in Athens, falling gracefully to her ankles. The intricate weave caught the light, while the elegant cutouts at her waist and neckline gave it an almost regal quality without sacrificing its relaxed, vacation inspired feel. She adjusted the halter at the back of her neck before running her fingers through her still damp hair. “Well?” Yunho stared at her for several seconds… just simply stared making her fold her arms. “You’re supposed to say something.” He kept staring. “I am.” Still nothing until he cleared his throat. “I’m just trying to remember how.” Her cheeks warmed, rolling her eyes. “You see me naked all the time.” His eyes slowly traveled back to hers. “Not my fault you somehow manage to look like royalty in literally everything you put on.” She smiled despite herself. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He grinned. “It was.” He walked over, gently brushing an imaginary crease from the side of her dress before resting his hands lightly on her waist. “You look beautiful.” Her smile softened. “Thank you.” For a quiet moment they simply stood there together. Then Yunho remembered. “My dad wasn’t just here to annoy me.” Y/N snorted. “I’m shocked.”

“He postponed the banquet until tomorrow evening.” Her eyebrows lifted. “Banquet?” Yunho reluctantly nodded. “A welcome banquet.” She furrowed her brows as she looked up at him. “For me?” He nodded like it was obvious looking much like his father in that moment. “For you.” She blinked. “Why?” Yunho kissed her, thumb rubbing at her chin as he grabbed it gently. “Because you’re the Princess of Hell now.” She sighed dramatically before back away from him to finish brushing her hair. “I suppose I should start getting used to things like this.” He smiled faintly before it vanished completely and she immediately noticed the change in his expression. “What?” Yunho’s gaze drifted toward the window before returning to her. “There’ll probably be someone at the banquet named Estrie.” Y/N tilted her head. “Estrie?” He nodded… hesitating for a moment. “Her father, Eres… has spent a very long time trying to convince my father that the two of us should’ve been married. Arranged marriage.” Y/N studied his face. She didn’t like where this was going. That new found possessiveness she had for him growing…. “Did you… did you two ever…” Yunho answered before she could even finish. “No.” The response came so quickly it almost overlapped her question. “Never.” She scoffed, folding her arms across her chest. “I wasn’t even finished asking.”

“I know what you were asking.” He stepped closer, his expression earnest. “No.” He shook his head firmly. “Never. Not once. I never kissed her. I never fucked her. Never led her on to think otherwise.” His voice was calm, but there wasn’t the slightest trace of hesitation. “My father never accepted the proposal, and I never gave Estrie any reason to believe I wanted it.” Y/N searched his face for a long moment. “Okay.” He shook his head. “I mean it.” Y/N reached out grabbing his hand and tugging him to her. “I believe you.” He let out a slow breath of relief. She trusts him. “Eres never stopped pushing for it. And Estrie…. His expression tightened. “She… didn’t take rejection particularly well.” Y/N folded her arms loosely. “So why are you warning me?” Yunho stared at her completely serious as images flashed through his mind before he could stop them. Estrie smiling as she’d pushed a sobbing succubus into the River Styx simply because Yunho had spent one evening with her. She hadn’t even been angry. She’d smiled. And most of all….. Estrie despised humans. “Because she’s had centuries to imagine a future that doesn’t exist anymore. Decades in hoping for a betrothal.” He squeezed her hand, gently intertwining their fingers. “And I don’t know how she’s going to react when she finally meets the woman I will spend eternity with.” Y/N looked down at their joined hands before looking back up at him. “Do I need to be worried?” Yunho was quiet for a moment. “I don’t think she’ll be a danger to you while my father is present.” He offered a reassuring smile. “But if she says anything… or makes you uncomfortable…” His thumb brushed lightly across her knuckles. “I’ll kill her. I’ll send her to purgatory myself.”

Y/N stared at him for a long moment, trying to decide whether he was joking. He wasn’t though. She’d known that the moment he’d said it. He would. Without hesitation. Without remorse. If someone tried to hurt her… Yunho would become exactly what Hell had raised him to be. She squeezed his hand once before a different thought surfaced, one that had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since she’d arrived in Hell. “Can I ask you something?” His expression softened immediately. “You know you can.” She shifted her weight against the vanity. “I’ve heard all of you mention it since I’ve been here. Purgatory.” The word itself coming from her seemed to change the atmosphere of the room. The warmth in Yunho’s eyes dimmed slightly. “What is it exactly?” Silence settled between them and for a few moments, Yunho simply looked at her, deciding where to begin. “It’s not part of Hell.” Y/N frowned. “It isn’t?” He shook his head. “No.” He guided her over toward the sofa near the fireplace, taking a seat before gently pulling her down into his lap. Their hands remained intertwined, his thumb absentmindedly brushing across her knuckles as he searched for the right words. “Humans have… misunderstood a lot of things over the thousands of years they’ve written about us.” She listened carefully. “Hell…” He glanced around their chambers. “as you’ve noticed, is a kingdom.” His voice was calm. “A civilization. A home. There are cities. Families. Children. Music. Art. Markets. Schools.” He gave her a small smile. “You’ve already seen most of that. There are punishments here too. There are prisons. There are laws. But Hell itself isn’t endless torture.”

Y/N’s brow furrowed as she threaded her fingers through his hair, fingertips lightly tracing one of his horns. “Then… where did humans get that idea?” Yunho’s expression became noticeably more serious. “Purgatory.” He tightened his arms around her, leaning his head slightly into her touch. “When a demon dies… or if they get their asses exorcised up top…. their soul doesn’t remain here.” Y/N’s eyes widened. “Demons can die?” Yunho chuckled a little despite everything. “Yes…. though we’re incredibly difficult to kill. But yes. And when one of us dies…” His gaze drifted toward the fire crackling quietly across the room. “that’s where we’re sent.” Y/N swallowed, suddenly gripping his horn like she was afraid he’d be taken there right now. “Forever?” Yunho didn’t meet her gaze. “Forever.” The room seemed quieter now. Even the crackling fire suddenly felt distant. “It’s also where the worst human souls are taken. The truly cruel. The monsters. The ones whose evil wasn’t born from desperation or fear…” He looked back at her. “but choice.” Y/N felt a chill run across her skin. “The images humans paint. The lakes of fire. The endless screaming. The eternal torment. The place where hope no longer exists…” His jaw tightened. “They weren’t describing Hell.” She stared at him. “Then why does everyone call it Hell?”

“A mistake. A convenient one. Humans rarely understand the difference.” He leaned back against the sofa, pulling her with him. “Most religions merged the two places together over time. So they became the same thing. But they never were.” Y/N was quiet for a long moment before she had to know. “Have you ever seen it?” Yunho’s seemed to drain of color. He didn’t answer for a long moment and when he did, his voice was much more quiet than before. “Once.” His eyes had grown distant. “I was young. Father took me because he believed every prince should understand exactly what awaited anyone foolish enough to betray our kingdom.” His grip tightened around her more. “I’ve never forgotten it.” He drew in a slow breath. “There are no cities. No sky. No music. No silence. Just…” He searched for a word that seemed impossible to find. “…absence.” His voice had almost become a whisper. “It strips away everything that made you who you were. Time. Identity. Memory. Hope. The suffering never ends because it was never designed to. It exists only to remind those trapped there of every choice they made. And it never lets them forget.” Y/N hadn’t realized she’d started clinging to him until her one hand had curled around the back of his neck and the other was practically holding onto his horn for dear life. “Even demons are afraid of it?” Yunho let out a humorless laugh. “Afraid?” He looked at her. “I’ve watched ancient demons who have laughed in the face of archangels go completely silent when Purgatory is mentioned.” His expression remained unreadable. “There isn’t a single demon alive who doesn’t fear dying. Not because we fear death.” His voice dropped another octave. “But…. because we know what comes after.”

“So when you said…” Y/N swallowed. “that you’d send Estrie there…” Yunho met her eyes without flinching. “I meant every word.” There wasn’t anger in his voice. There wasn’t even hatred. Only certainty. “If she ever became a threat to you… if she ever tried to…. or does hurt you….” His thumb gently stroked at her back, the tenderness of the gesture standing in stark contrast to the words that followed. “I would do whatever was necessary to make sure she never had the chance to do it again.” The room fell silent once more. Outside their chambers, the vast kingdom of Hell carried on as it always had. But somewhere far beyond its borders… beyond the cities, beyond the palace, beyond even the oldest reaches of Pandemonium… there existed another place entirely. One that even the Prince of Hell prayed he would never see again.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Later that afternoon, the markets of Hell were every bit as alive as they had been before the honeymoon. Stone streets carved from polished black volcanic rock twisted between hundreds of storefronts, their windows glowing with warm amber light beneath crimson lanterns suspended from wrought iron brackets. Demons haggled over enchanted jewelry beside vendors selling freshly baked bread. Children darted between crowded stalls chasing one another with tiny black wings fluttering behind them while musicians played strange stringed instruments on street corners, their melodies drifting through the warm infernal air. Y/N still wasn’t sure how Hell had managed to become one of her favorite places to simply… wander. It wasn’t what she’d expected. Nothing here ever was. Hongjoong walked comfortably beside her, one hand tucked into the pocket of his tailored black trousers while the other lazily spun a pair of sunglasses around one finger. “You know,” Y/N said, glancing sideways at him, “I think Yunho secretly hired you as a bodyguard.” Hongjoong snorted. “You know he did.” They continued walking, passing an elderly demon arguing over the price of tomatoes with a farmer before Y/N suddenly stopped so abruptly that Hongjoong nearly walked into her. “What?”

She pointed across the street. “No way.” Hongjoong followed her gaze. A beautiful storefront stood nestled between a bookstore and an apothecary. The windows were decorated with black orchids and polished obsidian mirrors, elegant gold lettering across the glass reading: INFERNA BEAUTY ATELIER Hair • Nails • Glamour Magic. Y/N stared then snorted in disbelief. “There’s really a salon in Hell.” Hongjoong folded his arms. “There are several.” She slowly looked at him. “I’ve seen it all.” She grinned. “Come on.” Without waiting for an answer, she crossed the street toward the salon and Hongjoong sighed dramatically before following after her. “I knew this was going to happen.” The bell above the door chimed softly as they stepped inside. The salon was breathtaking. Dark marble floors reflected dozens of dragon bone crystal chandeliers filled with softly glowing crimson flames. Shelves lined with enchanted cosmetics stretched along one wall while plush black velvet chairs surrounded polished obsidian styling stations. The air smelled faintly of jasmine, vanilla, and something smoky that somehow worked perfectly together. Conversation throughout the salon stopped almost instantly. Every demon inside turned. And one by one they bowed. “Princess.”

Y/N immediately looked behind herself. “You really don’t have to do that.” Several of them exchanged uncertain glances but remained respectfully lowered. One of the stylists smiled nervously. “It’s tradition, Your Highness.” Y/N rubbed the back of her neck. “I’m really going to have to get used to that.” Hongjoong chuckled. “I’ve been telling you.” She shot him a look before smiling awkwardly at the salon. “So…” She clapped her hands together once. “Who can do my nails?” Three hands shot into the air at once. Another stylist nearly tripped over herself hurrying forward. “I can! I’m Cora.” She practically beamed before gently ushering Y/N toward an oversized velvet chair. “This way, Princess.” Before Y/N had even fully sat down, another appeared beside her carrying an elegant crystal glass filled with what looked suspiciously like sparkling blackberry lemonade. Y/N blinked. “I didn’t order anything.” The woman smiled warmly. “You don’t have to.” She placed the drink onto the side table before disappearing again. Y/N slowly looked toward Hongjoong. “Did she just…” Hongjoong was openly laughing now. “You outrank everyone in this room except Lucifer and Yunho.” He shrugged. “They’re going to spoil you.”

“I don’t know how I feel about that.”

“You’ll survive.”

Cora settled onto the stool opposite her, carefully laying out an impressive collection of bottles, powders, tiny brushes, and shimmering enchanted pigments. She looked up with an excited smile. “What were you thinking today, Princess?” Y/N looked over the display. Every imaginable color. Every finish. Every shape. She honestly had no idea. “I don’t know…” A grin spread across her face. “I guess…” She glanced around the salon. “something dark and twisty. I mean…. We’re literally in Hell.” Cora giggled, her crimson eyes lighting up. “I have the perfect idea.” Y/N raised an eyebrow. “You do?” She nodded enthusiastically. “Oh, absolutely.” Cora immediately began selecting deep black lacquer infused with subtle garnet pigment, followed by gleaming metallic chrome powders that caught the light like polished obsidian. For the next hour, Y/N chatted easily with the stylists, learning which districts everyone lived in, hearing stories about their families, and laughing every time someone accidentally called her “Your Highness” before correcting themselves to “Princess.” By the time the final layer of glossy topcoat had cured beneath enchanted crimson lights that would hold the look for a very long time, Cora gently lifted Y/N’s hand with obvious pride. The nails were unlike anything Y/N had ever worn. Long, elegant stiletto tips gleamed like polished onyx. Deep crimson shimmered beneath the glossy black surface, almost like glowing embers trapped beneath obsidian glass. Flowing silver chrome framed each nail in sharp, organic curves, giving the illusion that molten metal had frozen around pools of dark garnet. They looked dangerous. Like they had been designed just for the Princess of Hell.

Y/N slowly turned her hand beneath the light, watching the crimson catch and shift beneath the glossy black. “These…” She looked up, grinning. “are the coolest nails I’ve ever had.” Cora beamed, clearly relieved. “I’m so happy you like them.” Hongjoong leaned over for a closer look before giving an approving nod. “They suit you.” Y/N laughed. “I don’t know whether that’s a compliment…” Hongjoong smirked. “Or a warning.”

The little brass bell above the salon door chimed softly as Y/N and Hongjoong stepped back onto the bustling streets of Hell. The warmth of the salon gave way to the lively chaos of the marketplace once again. Vendors called out daily specials from enchanted bakeries. A pair of young demons chased one another through the crowd, laughing as one accidentally knocked over a stack of pumpkins nearly twice his size before hurriedly setting them back upright with embarrassed apologies. Somewhere farther down the street, a violinist played alongside an enormous creature with four arms plucking strings on an instrument Y/N still couldn’t name. She couldn’t stop admiring her hand. Every few steps she turned it beneath the lantern light, watching the crimson beneath the glossy black shift like embers beneath obsidian. They almost looked the same shade as her father in law’s horns. “Okay,” she admitted with a grin. “These might actually be my favorite nails I’ve ever had.” Hongjoong glanced over. “You’ve looked at them twelve times.”

“Twelve?”

“You’ve been counting?”

“I was bored.”

She rolled her eyes. “I hate that you’re observant.” Hongjoong shrugged. “It’s my job.” She laughed, lifting her hand again. They’re just… really cool.” They continued weaving through the market until Hongjoong slowed and his easy smile disappeared. Y/N noticed almost immediately. “What?” He didn’t answer. His eyes had settled on someone standing farther down the street. Someone leaning lazily against one of the black stone columns bordering the marketplace. Hands tucked into his pockets. Watching them. No… watching her. Dante. And his crooked smile spread slowly as their eyes met. “There she is.” Y/N felt her own smile disappear as Hongjoong sighed under his breath. “Keep walking.” Dante pushed himself away from the column. “I think not.” He strolled toward them with the same infuriating confidence he’d carried the last time she’d seen him. Dark eyes traveling deliberately from the top of Y/N’s head… the black dress. To the fresh manicure she was still admiring moments ago. Then back to her face. “My…” His grin widened. “The prince’s wife certainly looks comfortable.” Y/N folded her arms. “Dante.”

“Princess.” He gave an exaggerated little bow that somehow managed to feel insulting rather than respectful. Hongjoong stepped smoothly between them. “Walk away.” Dante barely acknowledged him. “I’ve been trying.” His gaze drifted around Hongjoong as though he weren’t even there. “You know…” He looked back at Y/N. “You really hurt my feelings the last time we spoke.” She arched an eyebrow. “I did?” He nodded with a false pout. “You did.” He pressed a hand dramatically against his chest. “I made what I thought was a very compelling threat. I pour my heart into intimidating you… and you call it a daydream.” Y/N couldn’t help smiling. “It is a daydream.” Hongjoong’s voice remained calm. “Dante. Walk away.” Dante continued to ignore him. Instead, he began slowly circling them. Unhurried. Like a predator amusing himself. Hongjoong pivoted with him, never allowing Dante behind Y/N making Dante laugh quietly before stopping directly in front of Y/N again. He tilted his head. Studying her. Really studying her. The confidence. The way she refused to shrink in front from demon nobility. “So tell me…” His voice became almost conversational. “Princess.” He paused almost for dramatic effect. Then, with unmistakable curiosity… “Does the Prince love you yet?”

Y/N didn’t answer right away. The question settled between them, swallowed by the noise of the marketplace until it almost seemed louder than the merchants shouting only a few feet away. Her mind drifted backward. His threat to Yunho. At the time she’d dismissed it. Called it a daydream. Now… After Greece. After Yunho had promised to spend eternity proving himself to her. After he’d whispered those three words without even realizing he’d said them… she wasn’t so sure the question was really for her. Her eyes lifted back to Dante and she shrugged one shoulder. “Go ask him.” Dante smiled. Not the theatrical grin he’d worn moments ago. Something quieter. Sharper. More genuine. “Interesting.” He took a slow step toward her and Hongjoong immediately moved. One smooth stride placed him squarely between them. “That’s close enough.” Dante’s eyes shifted lazily to Hongjoong, looking him up and down. Like someone acknowledging an inconvenient piece of furniture. “I wasn’t talking to you.”

“You are now.” Hongjoong didn’t move. Neither did Dante as the marketplace around them had begun to notice. Conversations softened. Merchants suddenly found themselves very interested in reorganizing their displays while discreetly keeping one eye on the confrontation. No one intervened though. No one was foolish enough. Dante sighed dramatically. “I simply wanted him to remember the romise I made.” His eyes slid around Hongjoong’s shoulder until they found Y/N again and the playful amusement disappeared completely. The smile vanished from his face so suddenly it was almost jarring. And when he spoke again… there was nothing theatrical left. Only cold certainty. “Let him love you, Princess.” The words were quiet. Almost gentle. And that somehow made them infinitely worse. “It’ll make it so much more enjoyable…” His gaze never left hers. “when I peel your flesh off in front of him.”

The marketplace fell silent. Even the violinist somewhere down the street had stopped playing. And for the first time since she’d met Dante… Y/N saw no trace of humor in his eyes. He wasn’t trying to frighten her. He wasn’t boasting. He wasn’t provoking Yunho. He was simply telling her what he intended to do. Hongjoong took one deliberate step forward. “You should leave.” The warning carried enough weight that several nearby demons instinctively backed away. Dante didn’t even look at him. His eyes remained fixed on Y/N for one final second. Then black smoke erupted around him. It billowed upward in a twisting column before vanishing as quickly as it had appeared leaving nothing behind except lingering silence. Only when Hongjoong was absolutely certain Dante was gone did he slowly exhale. “Well.” Y/N was still staring at the empty spot where he’d been standing, heart hammering painfully against her ribs. Because…. She wouldn’t admit it allowed…. but he scared her. Hongjoong turned toward her, checking on her. “Are you alright?” She swallowed. “He’s insane.” Hongjoong didn’t disagree but instead corrected it a little. “No.” His eyes swept the marketplace one last time. “He’s patient.” There was a difference. And it was far more dangerous.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The banquet hall was considerably quieter than it had been the morning Y/N had first had breakfast. Servants moved silently between tables carrying silver platters piled high with roasted meats, fresh bread, roasted vegetables, and fruit that only seemed to grow in Hell. Y/N had barely finished telling one servant she didn’t need anything else before another quietly refilled her glass anyway. She sighed. “I’m beginning to think nobody listens when I say I’m full.”

“They hear you,” Hongjoong said, reaching for another roll. “They simply choose to ignore you. They’re afraid Yunho will find out they let his wife go hungry.” Across the table, Lucifer nodded once. “They’re making the correct decision.” Y/N laughed despite herself as Seonghwa, seated beside Lucifer, reached calmly for a serving dish at the exact same moment Hongjoong did. Their hands bumped and Hongjoong narrowed his eyes. “I was reaching for that.” Seonghwa glared at him. “So was I.”

“You saw me.”

“I acknowledged your attempt.”

Hongjoong scoffed. “You’ve always been insufferable.”

“And yet,” Seonghwa replied smoothly, placing vegetables onto his own plate before sliding the dish toward Y/N instead, “you spent nearly a century following me around.”

“I was supervising.”

“You called it courting.”

“I was lying.”

“You wrote poetry.”

Hongjoong nearly choked on his drink as Lucifer didn’t even look up from cutting into his dinner. “It was dreadful poetry.” Y/N looked between the two of them before bursting into laughter. “You two are unbelievable.” Hongjoong sneered at Seonghwa. “We’re divorced,” he answered. “As though we could forget,” Lucifer muttered and the familiar rhythm settled over the table with surprising ease. For all their bickering, there was an odd comfort to it. Like watching people who had argued for centuries and simply accepted it as part of life. Lucifer finally leaned back in his chair, swirling the dark wine in his glass before looking toward Y/N. “So. Why, exactly…” His brow lifted. “did you and my son decide leaving Wooyoung alone in my villa with an archangel was a sensible idea?” Y/N blinked, shaking her head. “We didn’t really decide. It just…” She smiled sheepishly. “…kind of happened.” Lucifer pinched the bridge of his nose. “That is somehow less reassuring.” Y/N laughed. “They needed a place to hide. Wooyoung said God is… pretty pissed.”

Silence. So thick the air suddenly could have suffocated someone. Then… Lucifer snorted. Actually snorted. The sound startled everyone at the table as he leaned back farther in his chair, shaking his head with a smile that looked remarkably familiar to Yunho’s. “My father…” He took another drink. “has always been…” He searched for the right word before looking at Y/N. “well…” A corner of his mouth tugged upward. “a conservative asshole, as you would say up top.”

Hongjoong immediately covered his mouth to hide a laugh as Y/N failed completely. Seonghwa merely sighed, though there was the faintest hint of amusement in his expression. “I imagine,” he said, “that is not how the scriptures describe Him.”

“They tend to leave out the inconvenient parts,” Lucifer replied dryly as Y/N tilted her head. “You still call him your father.” Lucifer’s fingers paused around the stem of his glass. And for just a moment, something unreadable crossed his face. “I do.” The King of Hell was quiet for several seconds. “Because…” His voice was calm. “before humanity ever gave Him titles…” He glanced back at her. “He was simply my father.” The words settled over the table as Lucifer took another slow sip before a crooked smile returned. “Unfortunately…” He looked toward Y/N again. “being someone’s father has never guaranteed their pleasant company.” The conversation around the table begun to find its rhythm again when the massive doors at the far end of the banquet hall groaned open and every servant in the room straightened almost instinctively. Boots echoed against polished obsidian as Yunho strolled in. His fitted jacket hung open over a dark shirt with the sleeves rolled neatly to his forearms. His silver hair was slightly tousled, as though he’d been running his hands through it for most of the day, and despite the composed expression he wore entering the room, the moment his eyes found Y/N… he softened. Lucifer didn’t even bother hiding his amusement. “You almost missed dinner.”

Yunho didn’t look away from his wife. “I know.” He reached the table, slowing behind Y/N’s chair. She turned toward him just as his hand came to rest lightly against the back of her seat. ““There you are,” she said, smiling. “Here I am.” Without hesitation, he leaned down, hand brushing gently against her jaw as he kissed her. When he pulled back, his forehead lingered against hers for the briefest moment. “You have a good afternoon?” he asked quietly. She smiled, hiding the way she wanted…. Knew… she would have to tell him about Dante. “I got my nails done.” His eyes immediately dropped to where her hand rested on the table. “You did.” She couldn’t help grinning as she held them up for inspection. “What do you think?” Yunho took her hand without a second thought. Turning it carefully beneath the crimson chandelier light. The glossy black shifted. Deep crimson shimmered beneath the surface like embers trapped beneath glass. The silver detailing caught the light as though liquid metal had frozen across each nail. A small smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “They’re beautiful.” His thumb traced lightly across the side of her hand before he looked back up at her. Only this time his eyes had darkened, voice dropping so only she could hear. “I think we should… test them out later.” It took Y/N a moment to register what he meant and when she did, she smirked, turning away from him and picking her wine glass up to not make anything obvious that her husband wanted her to scratch him.

Lucifer watched the entire exchange over the rim of his own wineglass. He heard every word his son said. Yunho finally released Y/N’s hand, though only so he could pull out the chair beside her. As he sat, his knee bumped lightly against hers beneath the table. Then his hand moved, resting on her thigh. Y/N felt the gentle pressure beneath the table and glanced sideways at Yunho who was already reaching for a plate as though nothing had happened. Completely innocent as his hand started rubbing against her thigh over her dress. Only the corner of his mouth betrayed him and she smiled to herself and let him shove a bite of steak into his mouth as he continued to move his hand higher up her thigh.

Y/N found herself watching Yunho more than her own dinner. He now sat beside her with one arm resting comfortably along the back of her chair, the other still occupied with his meal, every so often glancing sideways to make sure she was actually eating too. It was such an ordinary thing. So ordinary that it almost made her forget the marketplace. Forget Dante. Forget the way his smile had disappeared before he’d spoken. She looked down at her plate, turning her fork through the vegetables without really seeing them. She had to tell him. She just… she wanted one more minute where everything felt normal. Across the table, Hongjoong noticed. He watched Y/N for another few seconds before looking at Yunho. “Dante threatened her today.” The room stopped. Yunho’s fork never reached his mouth. It simply froze. The quiet clink of silver against porcelain echoed through the banquet hall as he slowly set it back onto his plate. Lucifer didn’t speak. He merely turned his head toward his son. Watching. Waiting. Anticipating the storm before the first crack of thunder. Beside him, Seonghwa grew unnaturally still. Even the servants standing along the walls seemed to instinctively stop moving.

Y/N’s heart sank. She’d wanted to tell him herself. Yunho didn’t look at Hongjoong. He looked at her. His voice, when it came, was almost impossibly way too calm. “What did he say to you?” She swallowed as her fingers tightened around the stem of her wineglass. “He…” The words caught in her throat. “He asked me…” She forced herself to meet his eyes. “if you loved me yet.” Yunho didn’t blink. Didn’t interrupt. Just listened. “Then…” She looked down for only a moment before continuing. “He said…” Her voice grew quieter. “to let you love me…” The rest refused to come. She could still hear Dante saying it. Still see the complete absence of emotion in his eyes. She opened her mouth but nothing came out so Hongjoong answered for her. “So that it’ll be more enjoyable when he peels her flesh off in front of you.” His voice was flat. “His exact words in fact.” No one moved. The fire in the enormous hearth cracked softly as Lucifer refused to take his eyes off Yunho. He’d seen that expression before. Y/N reached toward Yunho hesitantly, her fingers brushing lightly against the back of his hand. “Yunho…”

His hand turned beneath hers, quietly threading their fingers together. His grip wasn’t painful. It wasn’t even tight. It was steady. Grounding. He looked at her. “Did he touch you?” She shook her head immediately. “No. Hongjoong made sure of it.” Yunho gave the smallest nod. Then, for the first time since Hongjoong had spoken… he looked across the table at Hongjoong. “You were with her the entire time?”

“I was.”

“And after he left?”

“I searched the district.” Hongjoong held his gaze without hesitation. “He was gone.” Yunho looked toward the windows overlooking the sprawling lights of Hell. His expression remaining unnervingly composed. Lucifer recognized it immediately. It was the same look he would get. His son wasn’t deciding whether to act. He was deciding how.

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The walk back to their chambers was unusually quiet. Not uncomfortable. Just… quiet. The corridors of the palace stretched endlessly before them, polished black stone reflecting the glow of crimson sconces mounted high along the walls. Their footsteps echoed softly through the empty halls while servants respectfully stepped aside as the Prince and Princess of Hell passed. Y/N stole glances at Yunho more than once. He hadn’t raised his voice at dinner. Hadn’t stormed from the table the table in search of Dante. If anything… that worried her more. When the heavy doors to their chambers swung closed behind them with a deep, resonating thud, the silence seemed to settle around them all over again as Y/N turned toward him. “Yunho…” He slipped his jacket from his shoulders, draping it over the back of a chair before loosening the top button of his shirt. “I don’t want you doing something reckless because of what Dante said.” She took a cautious step closer. “Yunho…”

“I don’t want to talk about Dante.” His voice wasn’t cold. It was simply… decided as he turned to face her fully, reaching into the inside pocket of his jacket. “I’d rather talk about something else.” He withdrew a small black velvet box. Y/N stared at it. “What’s that?” A faint smile touched his lips. “I had something made.” Her eyes widened as he opened the box and nestled against the midnight velvet rested a ring unlike anything she’d ever seen. The band was forged from polished black obsidian metal, smooth as glass and dark enough to swallow the firelight surrounding them. Delicate feathers, each carved with astonishing detail, wrapped gracefully around the band, their curved forms embracing a breathtaking pear shaped gemstone at the center. The stone shimmered with impossible color. In one moment it was the brilliant turquoise of sunlit Mediterranean water. Then she shifted slightly and the blue deepened becoming the rich sapphire of the sea beneath the surface. Exactly like…. “Melissani.” She barely breathed the word as Yunho smiled. “I hoped you’d recognize it.” Her eyes never left the ring. The tiny marquise cut stones surrounding the center gem caught the light like scattered reflections dancing across water. It was Greece. The cave. Their honeymoon. That peaceful afternoon where the world had disappeared and, for a little while. Only them.

She looked up at him, speechless. “When…”

“The day after we saw the cave. After we met that old couple.” He admitted it almost sheepishly. “I contacted the royal jeweler.”

“You…”

“I couldn’t stop thinking about it.” His thumb brushed gently across the velvet box. “I wanted you to have something that reminded you of the happiest place you’ve ever been.” Y/N felt tears prick unexpectedly at the corners of her eyes. “You’ve been carrying this around all day?” He nodded. “I wanted tonight to be perfect.” She laughed softly through the emotion building in her chest. “I don’t think today qualifies as perfect.”

“No.” His smile became smaller. “But this part can.” He lifted the ring from its box then reached for her hand. His fingers were warm against hers as he carefully slid the ring onto her finger. It fit perfectly. Not too loose. Not too tight. As though it had always belonged there. The blue stone caught the firelight immediately, sending ripples of turquoise and sapphire dancing across the walls around them. Y/N stared at it unable to look away. “It’s…” Her voice cracked. “…beautiful.” She turned her hand slowly beneath the light, watching the colors shift exactly the way the water had beneath the opening in the cave. Then… something else caught her attention. Her eyes drifted from her own hand… to his. “Yunho. You have one.” Only now did she notice the ring resting on his left hand. The band matched hers. Black obsidian metal polished to a mirror sheen. But instead of feathers embracing a gemstone, tiny sculpted horns and feathers chased one another around the entire band in an endless circular pattern. Over and over and over again. The marks the covenant had carved into their wrists the day he chose to save her. Yunho glanced down at it almost absentmindedly as she stepped closer, taking his hand between both of hers as she studied the ring. “The horns…” He nodded. “And the feathers…” She smiled, tears finally slipping free. “So we’re carrying each other.” His expression softened in a way that still amazed her every time she saw it. “Exactly.”

For a long moment, neither of them spoke. They simply stood there, hands intertwined, the blue stone catching the firelight between them. Yunho lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss against her knuckles, just beneath the new ring. “No matter where we are.” His eyes met hers. “Whether it’s this palace… or a cave in Greece… or somewhere neither of us has seen yet…” His thumb brushed over the feathered band. “I wanted you to have something that would always remind you…” A quiet smile crossed his face. “…that you are home to me.” Y/N didn’t wait another second. She surged forward, fisting the front of Yunho’s shirt and yanking him into a hard, open mouthed kiss. Their teeth clicked before his tongue slid against hers, tasting the lingering sweetness of wine making him groan into her mouth, hands immediately sliding down to grip her waist, then lower, palms spreading over her ass as he lifted her clean off the floor letting her legs wrap around him as Yunho carried her across the room without breaking the kiss.

The moment her back hit the mattress he was on her, mouth devouring hers again while his hands worked at the zipper of her dress. Fabric tore slightly in his haste but he didn’t care. “I’ll buy you another one.” He promised and she laughed breathlessly as they stripped each other fast and messy. Her dress hit the floor. His shirt followed. Pants and underwear were shoved down in one motion. When they were finally naked, Y/N pushed him onto his back and climbed over him. She straddled his hips but stayed upright on her knees, leaning down to press open mouthed kisses across his chest. Her tongue tracing the hard line of muscle, teeth grazing a nipple before she sucked it between her lips. Her new nails dragged down his torso, red lines blooming in their wake. Yunho’s abs jumped under the touch as he watched her with dark, hungry eyes, one hand sliding into her hair, the other gripping her thigh. “Fuck…” he muttered. “You remember what I said at dinner?” She lifted her head, lips shiny, glancing at her nails and smirked. “You told me to test them out later.” His dick twitched against her inner thigh. “Do it.”

Yunho sat up in one fluid motion, hands sliding under her ass as he lifted her again, turning them so her back hit the pillows. He settled between her spread thighs, dick heavy and aching against her slick folds. No teasing. No slow build. The rings on their fingers caught the low light as he grabbed her hips and lined himself up and sank into her in one long, deep thrust. Y/N’s mouth fell open on a broken moan as the stretch burned in the best way. Her walls fluttered around him buried inside her. Yunho didn’t move at first. He just stayed deep, forehead pressed to hers, breathing hard. “Been thinking about this since you showed me…” he growled. “Since you sat there at the table letting me feel you up while everyone was eating. Couldn’t stop imagining how they’d feel digging into me.” He pulled back and thrust again, slow, deliberate, grinding his hips so the tip of his dick dragged against that perfect spot inside her making Y/N’s hands fly to his shoulders, nails biting into the muscle there. The sharp points pressed in, and Yunho’s eyes fluttered shut for a second. “That’s it,” he praised, voice rough. “Mark me up, baby. Show me how good I’m fucking you.”

He kept the pace measured at first, each thrust deep and rolling. Y/N’s legs wrapped around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back, pulling him closer. Every time he bottomed out she gasped, nails scraping down his shoulders in long, stinging lines. The red welts stood out against his skin as Yunho hissed through his teeth but didn’t slow down. “Harder,” she begged, voice already shaking. “Please, baby….” He answered by snapping his hips faster. The bed creaking under the force. Skin slapping against skin as Y/N’s nails raked down his back now, leaving angry red trails that made him growl. The sound vibrated through his chest and straight into her. “Fuck…. yes, just like that,” he groaned. “Dig those pretty claws in. I want to feel you tomorrow when I’m walking around the banquet. Want everyone to know my wife owns me.” Y/N cried out, back arching. Her walls clenched around him rhythmically as Yunho fucked her through it, relentless, hips pistoning. Sweat slicking their bodies as her nails dragged lower, across his ass, then his ribs, his chest, then up again to his shoulders. Each scratch pulling another filthy sound from his throat.

He panted against her mouth. “I love you. Love how tight you are around me. Love how you take every inch like you were made for it. Made for me. Love these fucking nails tearing me apart while I ruin you.” He shifted his angle, grinding deep on every thrust so his pelvis rubbed her clit and Y/N’s thighs started to shake. Her nails sank in harder, almost drawing blood but Yunho didn’t care. He wanted it. Needed the proof that she was here, real, his. And he was hers. “Come for me,” he ordered, voice low and commanding. “Come on, baby. Let me feel it.” She shattered with a broken sob of his name. Her pussy clamping down hard, pulsing around him in hot, wet waves as Yunho kept thrusting through it, fucking her through every aftershock, forehead pressed to hers, eyes locked on her face. “Fuck, I love you,” he groaned. “Love you so much….. fuck…” His rhythm faltered and he slammed into her one last time and stayed buried to the hilt as he came, dick throbbing as he kept rocking through it, pushing every drop deeper while her walls milked him and Y/N whimpered at the heat, nails still digging into his shoulders, holding him close. They stayed like that for a long while, panting, foreheads together, bodies locked as Yunho’s hands stroked her sides, gentle now, thumbs brushing over the marks he’d left on her hips and pressed soft kisses to her cheeks, her nose, her lips.

He eased out slowly, watching his cum leak from her before he gathered her into his arms and rolled them so she was draped over his chest. His fingers traced lazy patterns on her back while her nails, now gentler, stroked over the scratches she’d given him. “I do. I Love you,” he said again, quieter this time, like a promise. “More than anything.” Y/N nuzzled into his neck, breathing him in. The rings on their joined hands glinted in the low light, a quiet reminder of the bond they’d sealed. Outside, Hell continued its chaos, but in this room there was only the sound of their breathing and the steady beat of two hearts that had finally found home as Y/N finally, truly, said those words. “I love you too.”

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Hours later, the palace had gone quiet. The fires burning in the hearth had settled into glowing embers as Y/N slept peacefully beneath dark silk sheets. Yunho hadn’t slept. He lay on his side for a long while simply watching her. One of her hands rested against the pillow between them, the ring catching the faint light every time she shifted in her sleep. Loose strands of hair had fallen across her face, and every now and then she’d murmur something unintelligible before settling again. Carefully, so carefully she wouldn’t wake, he brushed the hair back from her cheek, thumb lingering there for a moment. Then he quietly slipped from the bed. He pulled back on his discard’s pants, not bothering with his shirt, and crossed the chambers barefoot before easing open the balcony doors. Cool night air drifted inside. The city of Hell stretched endlessly below, rivers of molten light winding between towering black spires while distant thunder rolled somewhere beyond the mountains.

Yunho rested both hands on the stone railing. “Garrett.” The name disappeared into the night but nothing happened. “Garett. Don’t make me say it again.” A second later… black smoke erupted near the edge of the balcony and a tall figure stepped from it, adjusting the cuffs of an expensive charcoal suit with an expression that suggested profound irritation. Garrett sighed dramatically. “I was in the middle of an SNL after party.” Yunho didn’t turn around. “He threatened her again.” Garrett’s expression changed. Not to surprise. To understanding. His eyes flicked toward the open balcony doors. Through them, he could just make out Y/N asleep beneath the covers. He looked back at Yunho. “So….. how do you want me to do it?”

Yunho said nothing. Garrett didn’t need him to. There was no need to explain.

They both knew who he meant. Dante’s succubus lover. The woman Garrett had been watching ever since Yunho had given the order before his honeymoon.

Yunho remained silent as he looked back through the open doors. His gaze settled on Y/N. She’d rolled slightly onto her side. One hand now rested beneath her cheek. Completely unaware of the conversation taking place only outside their chambers. Garrett followed his line of sight as Yunho’s voice lowered. “Just make it quick.” Garrett studied him for another moment. “You know Dante will know why.”

“I know.”

“He’ll come after you.”

“I know.”

“He’ll probably come after her harder.”

Yunho finally met Garrett’s eyes. “He already is.” The words hung in the air between them and Garrett gave a single nod. “No suffering?” Yunho looked back toward the bedroom. “No. No messages either. No spectacle.” Garrett inclined his head. “It’ll be over before she knows it.” The smoke began gathering around him once more and just before he disappeared, he stopped. “For what it’s worth…” Yunho looked over. “You’re better than I. If Dante threatened the woman I loved….” He smirked darkly. “I’d skin that succubus in front of him after I let her starve.” Then both he and the smoke vanished into the Hellish night leaving Yunho alone on the balcony. The wind tugged gently at his hair as he stared out over his kingdom.

Behind him, from inside the chambers, Y/N stirred softly in her sleep again. He closed his eyes for a brief moment. Then turned and quietly went back inside, easing the balcony doors shut behind him before returning to the bed, slipping beneath the covers and wrapping an arm around her as though, for just a few hours, he could keep the rest of Hell outside.

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“I know.” Keres smiled faintly. “You’ve become rather attached.” He didn’t deny it. “I have.” Silence settled between them before Keres tilted her head slightly. “Does she know?” Yunho’s brows furrowed. “Know what?” Keres finally looked at him. “That you and I were still sleeping together before you met her.” The words landed with surprising softness. Not cruel. Not jealous. Just simply factual. Yunho let out a quiet breath through his nose. “No. She knows we were together once a long time ago that’s it.”

“And are you planning to tell her?” He thought for a moment. “If she asks…” His gaze drifted toward the front doors of the estate. “I’ll answer.” Keres studied him. “You’re different.”

“I’ve been told.”

“No.” A small smile touched her lips. “I don’t mean happier.” She folded her arms. “I mean… careful.” Yunho chuckled. “I have something worth being careful with now.” Keres followed his line of sight toward the villa. “I never thought I’d hear Lucifer’s son say something like that.”

“Neither did I.” Before either could continue, the front doors opened as Y/N stepped into the sunshine adjusting the strap of the small woven bag resting against her hip. The cream colored outfit she’d chosen looked made for the Greek islands. The textured wrap skirt fluttered gently in the breeze while the matching asymmetrical top left one shoulder bare. Dark sunglasses rested atop her head, and comfortable sandals clicked softly against the stone as she descended the steps and smiled immediately when she saw Yunho. “There you…” She stopped as voice came from the opposite corridor. “Princess.” She turned as Darrius emerged from one of the side hallways fastening the cuff of a charcoal jacket. His movements were as relaxed as ever. Almost. The injury from the previous evening had nearly vanished. Only a thin reddish mark remained around one eye, the last evidence of Yunho’s temper. It was already fading with every passing hour. Demonic healing. He caught her noticing it and smiled. “You should’ve seen the other guy.” Y/N couldn’t help the tiny laugh that escaped. “I have.” She nodded toward the lingering mark. “I think he won.” Darrius barked out a genuine laugh. “I suppose that’s fair.” His gaze flicked briefly toward the terrace where Yunho had already gone completely still then back to her. “I wanted to apologize.” That… she hadn’t expected. “For what?”

“For making your first dinner among Hell’s nobility… eventful.” There was an odd sincerity beneath his usual swagger. “I enjoy provoking your husband.” He shrugged. “That’s between him and me.” His expression softened just enough to be believable. “You, however, had nothing to do with it.” Y/N studied him carefully, not fully believing him. “Apology accepted.” A slow grin spread across Darrius’s face. “I can see why he married you.” Before he could say another word, a familiar voice cut cleanly through the morning air. “Darrius.” Yunho hadn’t raised his voice. He hadn’t needed to. Every trace of warmth disappeared from Darrius’s amused expression as he looked toward the terrace. Yunho stood exactly where he’d been moments before. Hands relaxed. Expression calm. But his eyes never left the older demon as Darrius lifted both hands in exaggerated surrender. “We’re having a perfectly civilized conversation.” Yunho glared at him. “Then let’s keep it that way.” Y/N glanced between them before walking the remaining distance to Yunho’s side, slipping her hand into his and his fingers closed around hers. Only then did the tension in his shoulders begin to ease. Keres watched the exchange from a few steps away and smiled to herself. Not with envy but understanding. Whatever had existed between her and Yunho belonged to another century. This…. the quiet way he reached for Y/N’s hand without looking. The instinctive way she took it. That belonged to someone else now.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The ferry cut steadily through the impossibly blue Ionian Sea, its wake trailing behind like a ribbon of white silk. The farther they traveled from Athens, the quieter everything seemed to become. The bustle of the port had long since disappeared, replaced by the rhythmic crash of waves against the hull and the occasional cry of gulls circling overhead. Sunlight danced across the water in thousands of glittering fragments, bright enough that Y/N had to squint despite the sunglasses perched on her nose. She rested both forearms against the polished rail, letting the sea breeze tug loose strands of her hair across her face. The air smelled faintly of salt and sunscreen instead of brimstone and smoke, and every deep breath felt like it reached places inside her she hadn’t realized had been tense as Yunho emerged from the ferry’s café balancing two plastic cups filled with iced drinks. He paused for a second before walking over, unable to stop watching her. The sunlight suited her in a way Hell never could. It softened her features, warmed her skin, and turned the loose cream colored outfit she’d chosen into something that looked like it belonged on every postcard Greece had ever printed. He smiled to himself. “I was gone less than three minutes.” She looked over her shoulder. “I noticed.”

“You didn’t come looking for me.”

“I figured you weren’t collecting souls from the snack bar.” A laugh escaped him as he handed her one of the drinks. “Iced peach tea. Except this one is spiked.” She took a sip, humming happily. It was what she let him buy her the first night they met at the club. “You remembered.”

“I remember most things about you.” She gave him a suspicious look over the rim of the cup. “That was smooth.”

“I know.”

“You practiced that.”

“I absolutely didn’t.”

“You did.”

“I’ve had four hundred years to become charming remember.” She laughed, nudging his shoulder before turning back toward the water. And for a while they simply stood together in comfortable silence. The sea stretched endlessly ahead of them, impossibly blue, broken only by tiny sailboats drifting in the distance. Mountains slowly began taking shape on the horizon, their green slopes rising out of the water as if the island itself were waking from the sea as Y/N leaned against the railing again. “It’s weird.”

“Hm?”

“I always thought vacations were something other people got.” Yunho looked at her and shrugged lightly. “My grandmother and I used to watch travel documentaries after dinner.” A smile tugged at her lips. “She’d point at places she’d visited before I was born.” Her gaze stayed fixed on the approaching island. “Greece was always her favorite though. She’d talk about the water for hours.” She laughed quietly. “I’d tease her that water was water.”

“And now?” Y/N looked down at the shimmering sea surrounding them. “I owe her an apology.” Yunho smiled, moving to stand behind her, wrapping his arms around her waist, gripping his drink in one hand still as he kissed her shoulder. “I think she’d accept it.” She rested her head lightly back against his chest. “I wish she could’ve seen this.”

“I know.”

“I wish…” She stopped herself before smiling instead. “Actually, she’d probably think marrying the Devil’s son was the most interesting thing I’d ever done.”

“I imagine she’d have questions.”

“So many questions.” Yunho laughed, the sound blending with the wind as they watched Kefalonia grow larger with every passing minute. White buildings began to appear along the shoreline, tucked between green hillsides, and little fishing boats bobbed lazily in the harbor. Y/N’s smile grew until she couldn’t contain it anymore. “That’s it.” Yunho followed her gaze. “I can’t believe we’re actually here.”

“You haven’t even stepped onto it yet.”

“I know.” She looked back up at him, excitement bright enough to rival the sun itself. “Do you think it’s really going to look like all the pictures I’ve seen?” He looked from her to the emerald cliffs waiting in the distance. “I have a feeling,” he said with a small smile, “it’s going to be even better.” As if on cue, the ferry’s horn echoed across the water, long and deep as the harbor of Kefalonia opened before them, the island welcoming them beneath an endless blue sky. The drive to the villa wound through towering cypress trees before finally slowing as ornate wrought iron gates swung open on silent hinges. Beyond them, a long stone drive curved between ancient olive trees whose silver green leaves shimmered in the afternoon breeze. Lavender and rosemary bordered the path, filling the warm air with a fragrance so fresh it drifted through the open windows of the SUV. Ahead, the sea flashed between the trees in brilliant shades of sapphire, growing larger with every turn until the landscape suddenly opened and Y/N forgot how to breathe. The villa sat perched high above the Ionian sea as though it had grown from the cliffs themselves. Cream colored stone glowed beneath the afternoon sun, ivy climbing lazily over its walls while flowering bougainvillea spilled from balconies draped in white linen curtains. Floor to ceiling windows reflected the endless stretch of blue water beyond, and an infinity pool disappeared seamlessly into the horizon, making it impossible to tell where the pool ended and the sea began. Stone terraces stepped down toward a secluded crescent of white sand below, hidden beneath the cliffs and accessible only by a winding staircase carved into the rock.

The SUV rolled to a stop beneath the shaded entrance and Y/N simply stared through the windshield, her mouth slowly falling open. “No.” Yunho smiled without looking at her. “What?”

“This…” She pointed helplessly toward the villa. “This isn’t a villa.”

“No?”

“This is where billionaires go to pretend they’re humble.” A laugh escaped him as he got out the car, walking around to her side and opening the door for her. “I suppose definitions vary.” She looked back toward the house, then toward the ocean glittering beyond it. “You mean to tell me…” She gestured wildly at everything. “this is where we’re staying?”

“For the next several days.” Without the slightest warning, she let out an excited squeal that echoed across the quiet driveway and before Yunho could even react, she launched herself at him. He barely had time to laugh before she collided with him, instinct taking over as his arms wrapped securely around her waist catching her effortlessly, lifting her completely off the ground as she wrapped both legs around his waist. “You’ve got to be kidding me!” she laughed, cupping his face with both hands. “I take it you approve?” Instead of answering, she kissed him. It wasn’t slow or shy. It was bright, spontaneous and full of the kind of happiness that couldn’t be contained. Yunho smiled against her lips before kissing her back, one hand settling securely against the middle of her back while the other supported her beneath her thigh. When they finally pulled apart, she rested her forehead against his, still grinning so hard her cheeks hurt. “I love it.”

“I can see that.” He laughed, holding her just a little tighter as she laughed, shaking her head and his eyes searched hers. “I’ve never…” She looked back toward the villa, almost disbelieving it was real. “I’ve never seen somewhere this beautiful.” He followed her gaze. “It gets better.” She looked at him like he had completely lost his mind. “It gets better?” He nodded toward the sea. “You haven’t seen the view from the bedroom yet.” She narrowed her eyes playfully before stealing a quick kiss. “I’ve decided something.”

“And what’s that?”

“I’m never leaving.” Yunho chuckled, still holding her as though she weighed nothing. “I was hoping you’d say that.” A polite cough sounded somewhere behind them making them turn their heads in unison to find two impeccably dressed attendants standing beside the SUV, both pretending very hard not to smile as they waited beside the luggage. Y/N buried her face against Yunho’s shoulder with a groan. “We’ve had an audience this entire time, haven’t we?”

“They’ve been remarkably professional about it,” Yunho said, his grin growing wider as she laughed into his shoulder before finally lifting her head again. “Fine,” she declared. “Show me this ridiculously beautiful villa before I decide to climb onto the roof just to see the view.” Without setting her down, Yunho adjusted his hold and started walking toward the front entrance.

“Yunho.”

“Hm?”

“You know I can walk.”

“I know.”

“So why are you carrying me?” He looked down at her with a smile that was entirely too pleased with itself. “Because my wife jumped into my arms.”

“And?”

“I’m enjoying the consequences.” Yunho didn’t loosen his hold once. One arm remained securely beneath Y/N’s legs while the other supported her back, carrying her up the wide stone steps as though she’d become part of him somewhere between Hell and Greece. She laughed quietly, one arm looped around his neck, giving up on pretending she wanted to be put down as the front doors swung open with a flick of Yunho’s and cool air drifted out to meet them, scented faintly with lemon blossoms and polished cedar. The villa’s interior was just as breathtaking as its exterior. Sunlight poured through towering windows that overlooked the sea, illuminating creamy limestone floors and exposed wooden beams that stretched overhead. White linen curtains billowed gently with every breeze coming in from the open terrace doors, while soft neutral furnishings, woven rugs, and shelves lined with books gave the expansive rooms an effortless warmth that made the house feel lived in rather than merely luxurious. Y/N turned her head from one side to the other, trying to take everything in at once. “This is insane.”

“It’s comfortable,” Yunho replied with a teasing smile and she looked at him as though he said something completely outrageous. “Comfortable?”

“Yes.”

She gestured around the soaring room. “Your definition of comfortable is deeply concerning.” The attendants followed them inside with their luggage. “Your Highness,” one of them said politely, “where would you like the cases?” Yunho barely looked away from Y/N. “Just leave them by the front door. We’ll sort them out later.”

“Of course.”

The attendants bowed and quietly set the luggage neatly against the wall before slipping back outside, closing the doors behind them with barely a sound letting silence settle over the villa with only the distant rhythm of waves meeting the cliffs below remaining as Y/N smiled as she looked around again. “I don’t even know where to explore first.”

“The bedroom,” Yunho answered without hesitation and she laughed. “Biased.”

“Entirely.” He adjusted her slightly in his arms before heading toward the sweeping staircase. “You are seriously still carrying me.”

“I am.”

“My legs work.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“So…”

“They’re getting a break.”

She rolled her eyes, though the smile never left her face. “You’re impossible.”

“So you’ve said.” They climbed to the second floor, sunlight spilling across the landing from another wall of windows. Yunho turned down a quiet hallway before stopping outside a pair of tall wooden doors and nudged one open with his shoulder. The bedroom beyond was expansive without feeling ostentatious. White linen curtains framed open French doors leading onto a private balcony overlooking the Ionian sea. A fireplace sat opposite a large bed dressed in crisp white sheets, while the sound of the waves drifted inside with the breeze. Y/N stared for a long moment. “Okay….” She looked back at him with an almost disbelieving smile. “You were right.”

“I usually am.”

“Don’t let it go to your head.”

“It already has.” He carried her a few more steps into the room before leaning close enough that only she could hear. “I was thinking,” he murmured with an unmistakably playful grin, “that we ought to properly christen the honeymoon suite.” Heat immediately rose to her cheeks and she laughed, giving his shoulder a light swat. “You’ve been here less than five minutes.”

“I’ve been remarkably patient.”

“Patient?”

“Exceptionally.”

She shook her head, smiling despite herself. “I think Greece is having a terrible influence on you.”

“I was going to blame my wife.” She met his eyes, unable to stop smiling as he dropped his glamour and let his horns on display. “I walked right into that one.”

“You did.” For a quiet moment, neither of them spoke as the breeze stirred the curtains, sunlight shimmering across the sea beyond the balcony, and the villa settled around them with a peaceful stillness neither had experienced in what felt like forever. Yunho looked from the view back to her. And he felt it then. A feeling that for the first time in his life…. scared the shit out of him…… he suddenly couldn’t imagine eternity without her. That realization hit hard as he kissed her with a slow, deliberate hunger that hid the storm raging inside his chest, swallowing down his feelings and letting it fuel the way his lips moved over hers instead.

He guided her backward without breaking the kiss, lowering her onto the mattress with careful control, his larger frame hovering above her as their tongues slid together and Y/N’s hands found the hem of his shirt, yanking it upward. He let her strip it off, the fabric whispering across his skin before she tossed it aside and slid off the bed onto her knees, fingers hooking into his shorts and tugging them down along with his underwear letting his dick sprang free, heavy and already half hard. She looked up at him with a smirk that made his pulse jump. “I just realized…” she murmured, wrapping her fingers around his shaft and giving it a slow stroke, “I’ve only tasted you once.” The memory of their first night flashed behind his eyes and Yunho’s lips curved into a grin as he caught her chin between his thumb and forefinger, tilting her face exactly the way he had that night. “Open,” he said, voice low and she parted her lips as he leaned down and let a thick string of spit fall onto her tongue. She held it there for a moment, eyes locked on his, before closing her mouth and swallowing. Then she leaned in and dragged her tongue from the base of his dick all the way to the tip, slow and deliberate, savoring every inch as her hand stayed wrapped around the base and she opened wider and took the tip into her mouth, sucking gently at first, tongue swirling around it.

Yunho’s hand slid into her hair, not pushing, just resting there. “That’s it… fuck, just like that. Look at you taking me so well already.” She took more of him, inch by inch, until her nose brushed his pelvis and her throat fluttered around him. He groaned, hips twitching but staying still, letting her set the rhythm as she bobbed steadily, saliva dripping down his length, the wet sounds filling the quiet bedroom. Every time she pulled back to breathe, she licked along the underside before sinking down again, deeper each time. “Such a good girl,” he praised, voice rough. “Your throat feels fucking perfect around my dick. Keep going…. don’t stop.” She hummed around him, the vibration making his thighs tense as he let her stay in control, watching her work him with single minded focus until the pleasure built too high. His fingers tightened in her hair and he pulled her up, capturing her mouth again in a messy kiss as he kicked his shorts and underwear the rest of the way off along with his shoes, then reached for her clothes. Piece by piece he stripped her, lips following the newly exposed skin, kissing down her neck, across her collarbones, over the swell of her breasts, sinking lower, pressing open mouthed kisses to her stomach, her hips, the soft skin of her inner thighs. “Fuck…” he breathed against her, “I don’t think I’m ever going to get enough of you.”

Y/N’s fingers threaded through his hair, gripping one of his horns making him moan and his dick to twitch. “Again and again and again, huh?” she echoed him, voice teasing but warm and he answered by sliding two fingers through her folds, finding her already soaking wet. He pushed them inside her pussy in one smooth motion, curling them against her front wall while his other hand lifted toward her mouth. “Suck,” he ordered and she took his middle finger between her lips, sucking it wetly. When it was dripping, he pulled it free and reached behind her, pressing it against her tight rim. He worked it inside her ass slowly while his other two fingers kept thrusting into her pussy. The dual stretch made her moan and rock against his hand as he fucked both holes with steady rhythm, watching her face as pleasure built.

Her walls fluttered around his fingers as she came with a sharp cry, pussy clenching hard, ass squeezing his finger. Yunho didn’t stop though until the tremors eased, then withdrew his hand and licked his fingers that were buried in her pussy clean. Before he could move, Y/N surged forward, catching him off guard. She shoved his chest and he went down onto the bed and she climbed up after him, crawling over his body with a smirk, then turned and wiggled her ass right in front of his face. “You want it?” she teased, looking back over her shoulder and a low growl rumbled from Yunho’s chest as he grabbed her hips and yanked her back. “You sure?”

“Make me scream,” she grinned and his hand cracked across one ass cheek making her gasp, then she bent forward, arching her back and presenting herself to him. Yunho gripped her hips, lined up, and sank into her pussy first, taking his time, rolling his hips in deep, measured thrusts that coated his dick in her arousal. She grew wetter with every stroke, slick sounds filling the room. When she was dripping and moaning, he pulled out and brought his soaked dick to her ass, pressing the tip against her rim, pushing in slowly, giving her time to adjust to the thicker stretch. Y/N gasped his name as he bottomed out, her body trembling. Yunho stayed still, leaning down to kiss along her spine, one hand reaching beneath her to rub slow circles over her clit while the other teased her pussy with two fingers again. And only when she relaxed did he start moving, long, deliberate thrusts that let her feel every inch. He built the pace gradually, hips snapping harder as her moans grew louder and she sobbed his name, pushing back to meet him. “Fuck me,” she begged. “Please…. baby… just fuck me.”

Something in him snapped at the way she begged and called him baby. Yunho’s grip tightened and he started pounding into her ass, the bed creaking under the force. She cried out, fingers clawing at the sheets, begging him not to stop as he pulled her upright against his chest, one hand wrapping around her throat while the other guided her own fingers down to her pussy. “Put them in,” he growled against her ear. “Clench around them.” She slid two fingers inside herself, sobbing as her walls squeezed and Yunho kept fucking her ass in hard, relentless strokes while his fingers rubbed tight circles over her clit. “Mine,” he snarled.

“Yours,” she gasped.

“My pussy.”

“Your pussy.”

“My ass.”

“Your ass.”

The words fed the fire between them as her body shook harder with every thrust. And when she finally broke, she screamed his name, squirting around her own fingers, ass clenching rhythmically around his him. Yunho held her upright, fucking her through it until his own release hit and he buried himself deep, filling her ass and groaning against her neck. They collapsed onto the bed together, breathing hard, bodies slick with sweat. Yunho stayed inside her for a long moment, pressing soft kisses to her shoulder before slowly pulling out, gathering her close, one arm draping over her waist, the unspoken realization of what she meant to him now still burning quietly in his chest as he held her through the aftershocks.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Pandemonium had never been quiet. The palace breathed with constant motion, servants crossing endless corridors, nobles arriving without invitation, ancient demons arguing over matters that had somehow remained unresolved for millennia. Yet somehow, over all of it, Lucifer’s voice still managed to dominate. “I said bigger.” Several servants froze as Seonghwa pinched the bridge of his nose without looking up from the parchment spread across the council table. “Your Majesty…” Lucifer stood before an enormous tapestry depicting Hell’s founding, gesturing animatedly as though the entire celebration already existed in his head. “I want every noble house invited.” Seonghwa sighed. “Every noble house?”

“Yes.” Lucifer replied like it was obvious. “The last time every noble house attended the same event…” he interrupted Seonghwa mid complaint. “Three duels.” Seonghwa corrected him. “Seven.” Lucifer waved a dismissive hand. “Minor details.” Seonghwa gave him a deadpan look. “They burned down the east ballroom.” Lucifer shrugged as if it were no big deal. “We rebuilt it.”

“They poisoned each other’s wine.”

“They survived.”

“Barely.” Lucifer finally looked at him. “And?” Seonghwa stared back. “You’re impossible.” Lucifer smiled smugly. “I rule Hell. I’ve earned it.” A reluctant laugh escaped Seonghwa despite himself. “So what exactly are we celebrating?” Lucifer looked almost offended by the question. “My daughter in law.” Seonghwa dipped his quill into ink. “You do realize most of the aristocracy still hasn’t accepted the marriage.”

“Then they’ll attend.”

“And if they refuse?”

“They won’t.”

“Because?” Lucifer smiled in that uniquely terrifying way only the Devil could. “Because I’m inviting them.” Seonghwa made another note. “So…” Lucifer clasped his hands behind his back, beginning to pace. “I want music.”

“Noted.”

“A feast.”

“Obviously.”

“I want every hall decorated.”

“I’ll inform the staff.”

“And gifts.”

Seonghwa paused. “Gifts?”

“For Y/N.”

“You’ve already given them a villa for their honeymoon.” Lucifer looked genuinely puzzled. “So?” Before Seonghwa could answer, the massive chamber doors swung open with enough force to echo through the throne room. Neither of them looked surprised as an older demon strode inside without waiting to be announced. Tall, broad shouldered, silver threaded through long black hair that hung past his shoulders, Eres carried himself with the effortless authority of someone who had ruled his own territories long before most kingdoms on Earth had existed. Curving obsidian horns framed a face carved with centuries of experience rather than age, and the crimson embroidery stitched into his dark robes marked him as one of Hell’s oldest noble houses. His expression, however….. was anything but composed. “My king.” Lucifer’s smile disappeared. “Eres.” Seonghwa quietly set his quill down. This wasn’t going to be a pleasant visit. Eres stopped several paces before the throne, his green eyes fixed entirely on Lucifer. “I’ve just returned from the eastern territories.”

“I gathered.”

“I was informed…” His jaw tightened. “that Prince Yunho has been bound.” Lucifer had to refrain from being a smartass. “He has.”

“To a human.”

“He has.” Silence settled over the room until finally, Eres laughed but it held no humor whatsoever. “Tell me they’re mistaken.”

“They aren’t.”

“You allowed this?”

“I did more than allow it.” Lucifer folded his hands calmly behind his back. “I blessed the marriage.” The words landed like a blade as Eres stared at him. Then disbelief gave way to anger. “For decades…” His voice remained controlled, though only barely. “For decades we discussed an alliance.” Lucifer remained perfectly still. “We did.”

“My daughter has spent years preparing.”

“I know.”

“We agreed the Prince would one day marry Estrie.”

“We discussed the possibility.”

Eres took another step forward. “It was more than a possibility.”

“No.” Lucifer’s voice stayed level. “It wasn’t.”

“It was understood.”

“It was assumed.” The distinction was razor thin and devastating. Eres’ eyes flashed. “My house has remained loyal to yours for over twelve hundred years.”

“I haven’t forgotten.”

“My armies answered every summons.”

“They did.”

“My family has stood beside yours through every rebellion.”

“And I’ve appreciated it.”

Eres spread his hands. “And this…” His voice cracked with restrained fury. “is how that loyalty is repaid?” Lucifer’s expression softened only slightly. “No.”

“It feels remarkably similar.”

“The marriage was never promised.”

“You never denied it.”

“I also never accepted it.” The room fell silent again and Seonghwa quietly looked toward the floor. He’d been present for many of those discussions over the years. Lucifer was right. He had never once promised Yunho to Estrie. Hell’s nobility had simply convinced themselves it would happen. Eres exhaled slowly through his nose. “My daughter loves him.” Lucifer had to refrain from rolling his eyes. “As do many.”

“She has for nearly seventy years.”

“I’ve noticed.”

“And now she learns…” His laugh returned, brittle and hollow. “from gossip.” A flicker of actual amusement crossed Lucifer’s face. “I intended to speak with you personally.”

“When?”

“When Yunho returned.”

“After introducing his human wife to the court?” Eres practically spat the word human out in disgust. Lucifer didn’t answer though. “I see.” Eres nodded and turned as though to leave before stopping. And without looking back, he spoke quietly. “Tell me one thing.” Lucifer waited. “Is she truly worth dismantling centuries of alliances?” The Devil looked toward the towering windows overlooking Pandemonium and when he answered, his voice carried none of the authority of a king. Only the certainty of a father. “My son smiled.” Eres frowned as Lucifer looked back at him. “For the first time since he lost his mother…” A faint mournful smile touched his lips. “my son smiled because he was happy.” The throne room became impossibly still but Lucifer’s gaze never wavered. “No alliance is worth taking that away from him.” Eres held his stare for another long moment before inclining his head just enough to acknowledge the answer. Whether he accepted it was another matter entirely. Without another word, Eres turned and walked out of the throne room, the enormous doors closing behind him with a thunderous boom that echoed through Pandemonium. Only after the silence returned did Seonghwa glance sideways at Lucifer. “So…” Lucifer sighed. “So.” Seonghwa stared at him. “I suppose I should make the guest list a little… flexible.” Lucifer rubbed a hand across his face. “No.” Seonghwa blinked, confused. “No?” The Devil’s eyes gleamed with quiet resolve. “Invite House Eres.” Seonghwa stared at him. “To the welcome celebration?”

“Especially them.” A slow, knowing smile spread across Seonghwa’s face. “You want the entire nobility to meet her.” Lucifer returned a menacing smile of his own. “If they’re going to question the Princess of Hell…” His voice lowered with unmistakable confidence. “I’d much rather they do it to her face for my son to see.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The drive to Melissani Cave wound through winding mountain roads lined with olive groves and towering cypress trees, the late morning sun spilling across the landscape in sheets of gold. Every few minutes the sea appeared between the hills, impossibly blue before disappearing behind another curve. Y/N had spent most of the drive with the window down, one arm resting against the door as the warm Mediterranean air played with her hair. “I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of looking at this.”

“You’ve said that six times.”

“I’ve meant it all six.” Yunho smiled to himself as the rental car Jeep rolled into the small parking area overlooking the famous cave. The moment the engine shut off, Y/N was already reaching for the door. “Hurry.” Yunho raised an eyebrow. “We’re on vacation.”

“I know.”

“So why are we in a rush?”

“Because…” She pointed dramatically toward the trees. “there’s an underground lake over there remember.” He laughed. “I don’t think it’s going anywhere.”

“You don’t know that.”

“I’m fairly confident.” She was already halfway out of the car before he finished speaking. A few minutes later they followed the shaded stone path leading toward the entrance. Y/N had worn the swimsuit Yunho insisted on her buying in Athens. A black bikini peeked through the sheer black mesh cover up that flowed around her legs with every step, the fabric catching the breeze while sunlight filtered through it. Oversized sunglasses rested atop her head now instead of over her eyes, and simple black sandals clicked softly against the stone walkway. Yunho had been staring for nearly five minutes. Not discreetly. Not even pretending. And of course caught him. “What?”

“What?”

“You’ve looked at me exactly twelve times since we got out of the car.”

“I don’t think that’s accurate.”

“I’ve been counting.”

He considered that. “Thirteen?” She snorted as he looked her up and down once more, completely shameless. “I can’t help it. My wife is beautiful.”

“I appreciate the compliment.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.” He grinned, playfully spanking her ass. “It was an observation.” A laugh escaped her before she could stop it and they continued down the path, more tourists came into view, families, couples, photographers, all making their way toward the cave entrance. Y/N leaned closer to Yunho, letting him wrap an arm around her. “I have a question.”

“Hm?”

“Do demons… get sunburned?”

Yunho looked genuinely thoughtful. “No.”

“Lucky.”

“We do overheat, though.”

She looked at him skeptically. “Really?”

“No.”

She smacked his arm. “You lying asshole.”

“I couldn’t resist.” He laughed as the path narrowed before opening onto a natural limestone sinkhole and Y/N stopped so abruptly that Yunho nearly walked into her. “Whoa.” The cave seemed to open beneath the earth itself. Sunlight poured through the collapsed ceiling high above, striking the water below like a spotlight. The lake glowed. Not blue. Not turquoise. But something between sapphire and liquid glass. The light shifted constantly beneath the surface, rippling over ancient limestone walls that curved into darkness beyond where the sun could reach. Small wooden rowboats drifted silently across the water, each carrying only a handful of people while local guides steered them through the cavern with long wooden poles. Y/N simply stared. “I…” She couldn’t find the words as Yunho watched her instead of the cave. “I’ve never seen water…” She laughed softly, almost to herself. “…I didn’t know water could look like that.” The sunlight caught in her eyes as she stepped closer to the railing. “It almost doesn’t look real.”

“It is.”

“I know.” She smiled without taking her eyes off the shimmering lake. “That’s the crazy part.” A boatman called out from below, waving toward the next group waiting to board. Yunho extended his hand. “Ready?” Y/N looked from the cave…. to him… then slipped her fingers into his. “I have a feeling,” she said, smiling brightly, “this is going to be one of those memories I’m still talking about when I’m almost too old to remember.” Yunho’s thumb brushed gently across the back of her hand, her missing the look on his face at the mention of her getting old. Her immortality lingering in the back of his thoughts as if mocking him for being too much of a coward to kill her. “I hope so.”Hand in hand, they descended the worn stone steps toward the waiting boat, disappearing into the brilliant blue heart of the cave. The little wooden boat drifted away from the dock with barely a ripple, its elderly guide using a long polished pole to push them silently across the glowing lake. The deeper they ventured beneath the limestone ceiling, the quieter the outside world became. Conversations softened into whispers as everyone instinctively looked upward. Sunlight poured through the opening high above, scattering across the water until it looked less like a lake and more like liquid sapphire. Y/N sat near the front beside Yunho, one hand trailing lazily just above the water’s surface without quite touching it. She couldn’t stop looking around. Every few seconds another shaft of sunlight found a different angle, painting the cave walls in shifting shades of blue and silver. “This feels fake,” she murmured and Yunho smiled, his shoulder brushing her. “You’re saying that a lot today.”

“Because everything keeps looking like someone edited reality.”

“I’ll admit…” He looked around himself. “Earth has its moments.” She nudged him lightly. “I knew you’d finally admit we’re prettier than Hell.”

“I’m not admitting anything.”

“You just did.”

“I said Earth has moments.” She grinned triumphantly anyway and several seats behind them, an older couple chuckled. The woman had silver hair tucked beneath a wide straw hat while her husband sat beside her with one arm comfortably around her shoulders. Deep laugh lines framed both of their faces, the kind earned over decades rather than years. “You two are adorable,” the woman said warmly making Y/N glance back smiling. “Thank you.”

“Vacation?” Y/N looked at Yunho before answering. “Honeymoon, actually.” The woman’s expression brightened immediately. “Oh! Congratulations!” Her husband reached over to squeeze her hand. “Best kind of trip.” The woman looked between them again before her brow furrowed slightly. “Although…” Y/N tilted her head. “What?”

“I hope you don’t mind me asking.” She smiled apologetically. “Where are your rings?” For the first time since the binding… Y/N blinked as her left hand instinctively lifted. Bare and empty. She looked toward Yunho’s. Also bare. The realization hit both of them at exactly the same time as she had the horn shaped mark around her wrist. He had the feather shaped mark winding around his own. They’d been so consumed by surviving earthquakes, Hell, demon politics, weddings officiated by Reapers, and honeymoon sex that neither of them had once stopped to think about wedding rings. Y/N laughed awkwardly. “That’s actually a really good question.” The older woman smiled knowingly. “Oh, sweetheart, don’t worry. My husband lost his first ring three weeks after we got married.”

“I dropped it into the Adriatic,” the man admitted sheepishly.

“You threw up over the side of a ferry.”

“I was seasick.”

“You insisted you weren’t.”

“I was wrong.”

Y/N laughed. “We…” She glanced sideways at Yunho. “had a very unconventional wedding.”

“I’ll say,” Yunho muttered under his breath and she bumped his knee with hers before looking back at the couple. “We just… haven’t gotten around to rings yet.” The older woman nodded thoughtfully. “That happens more often than people think.” Her husband smiled fondly at her. “We actually came to Greece for our honeymoon too.” Y/N’s eyes lit up. “Really?”

“Forty years ago,” the woman said, squeezing her husband’s hand again. “This cave was one of our first stops.”

“We promised each other we’d come back someday.”

“It only took us four decades.”

Her husband laughed. “Life gets busy.”

“It does.” Y/N looked between them, watching the quiet ease with which they sat together. They weren’t constantly talking. They didn’t need to be. Every now and then one would simply glance at the other, smile, and look back toward the shimmering water as though forty years had taught them an entire language without words. “They’re relationship goals,” Y/N whispered quietly to Yunho. He looked at the couple. Then at her. “I can see that.” The older woman overheard just enough to laugh. “My dear…” she said, smiling at Y/N. “The secret isn’t finding someone exciting.”

“No?”

“It’s finding someone you still choose when life stops being exciting.” Her husband nodded. “Eventually the butterflies settle down.”

“And then?” The older woman smiled up at her husband. “If you’re lucky…” Her fingers intertwined with his. “you realize you married your best friend.” Silence settled over the little boat again and Y/N found herself staring thoughtfully at the rippling water. Beside her, Yunho quietly reached over and laced his fingers through hers and she squeezed back without thinking. The older couple smiled to themselves as the boat drifted beneath another shaft of brilliant sunlight and the woman looked toward Yunho with a teasing smile. “And young man…”

“Yes?”

“When you finally buy her a ring…” She winked. “make sure it’s one she’ll never want to take off.” Yunho’s gaze shifted from the woman to Y/N’s empty left hand… then to the horn shaped mark circling her wrist and a quiet smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I think,” he said softly, more to himself than anyone else, “I already know exactly what it should look like.” Y/N looked up at him curiously. “You do?” He only smiled, glancing at the water around them. “I have an idea.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The little beachfront restaurant sat tucked between swaying palms and the shoreline, strings of warm golden lights hanging overhead like scattered stars while the last rays of the sun melted into the Ionian sea. Waves rolled lazily onto the sand only a few yards away, their quiet rhythm blending with soft Greek music drifting from somewhere farther down the beach. It was the kind of evening that felt too beautiful to belong to real life as Y/N stepped onto the wooden deck ahead of Yunho, smoothing the soft white romper she’d chosen for dinner. The lightweight fabric danced around her legs every time the sea breeze rolled through, the lace up sandals winding elegantly around her calves. The hostess greeted them warmly before leading them toward a table set almost directly on the sand. Candles flickered inside small glass lanterns, their flames dancing every time the breeze swept through. The horizon burned orange. Then pink. Then deep violet. Y/N sighed as she sat down. “I’m serious…. I don’t think I’m ever leaving.” Yunho pulled out her chair before taking the seat across from her. “I could arrange that.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.”

She looked out toward the sea again. “I could stay here forever.” The word caught him. Forever. His smile remained exactly where it was but something behind his eyes shifted. The waiter arrived, taking their orders before disappearing just as quietly, leaving them alone with the sound of the ocean. Y/N rested her chin in her hand, watching the last edge of the sun disappear beneath the water. She didn’t notice Yunho watching her. He wasn’t seeing the beach anymore. He was seeing… years. Decades. The first silver strand in her hair. The tiny lines beside her smile. Hands that would someday wrinkle. A back that might ache. Eyes that would eventually struggle to read. She’d joked about talking about Greece when she was almost too old to remember. At the time, he’d managed to hide what that sentence had done to him. Now… watching the sunset paint her face… he couldn’t stop imagining it. She was twenty four. So heartbreakingly young as she laughed at something happening farther down the beach where a little girl chased gulls through the surf. The sound pulled another thought through him. One day… she wouldn’t look like this anymore. Unless… his father’s words slipped back into his mind with merciless clarity. Kill her while she’s still young… his jaw tightened. No. He couldn’t. He already knew he couldn’t. Which meant… she would grow old. While he remained exactly the same.

“Yunho?” He didn’t answer. “Baby?” The nickname finally reached him. He blinked, focusing his gaze on her. Y/N was leaning forward now, concern replacing her smile. “You’ve been staring at me for like…” She glanced at the sky as if calculating. “ten minutes.”

“I have?”

“You didn’t even blink.” He tried to smile but didn’t quite reach his eyes. She reached across the table, gently taking his hand. “What’s wrong?” His thumb brushed absentmindedly across her knuckles but nothing came out. Because where would he even begin? By the way, you’re going to die someday unless… No. My father wants me to kill you before that happens. Absolutely not. There’s a way for you to live forever, but… He couldn’t. Not here. Not while she still looked so happy. The candlelight flickered between them as Y/N squeezed his hand again. “You’ve got that look.”

“What look?”

“The one where you’re thinking so hard you’ve forgotten I’m sitting in front of you.” A quiet breath escaped him and are waited patiently. Until finally…… very quietly… Yunho let it out. “There’s something I haven’t told you.” Her smile faded just enough for concern to take its place. “What is it?” He looked into her eyes. Then down at their joined hands. Then back at her. “I just…” His voice caught before he tried again. “I don’t know how to tell you.” The waves continued to roll onto the shore. The music carried softly through the evening air. And for the first time since arriving in Greece… the perfect honeymoon felt very far away as the words sat between them for so long that the sounds of the restaurant slowly filled the silence. Glasses clinked. Someone laughed somewhere farther down the beach. A server walked past carrying a tray of grilled fish, the scent of lemon and herbs briefly cutting through the salty evening air. Yunho barely noticed any of it. His entire world had narrowed to the woman sitting across from him. He took a slow breath. “When a mortal soul becomes bound to an immortal one…” His fingers remained loosely intertwined with hers atop the table. “…the binding itself doesn’t change the mortal.” Y/N listened without interrupting. “You stay human.” She nodded. “I noticed.”

“You still age. You can still get sick. And…” His voice became quieter. “you’ll eventually die.” The words felt wrong leaving his mouth. “I won’t.” Y/N furrowed her brows. “Won’t what?”

“I won’t die.” He shook his head. “But…. I don’t want to lose you.” Her confusion deepened. “There is…” He searched for words that somehow didn’t exist. “Another part of the binding. If…” His jaw tightened. “…if the immortal bound to the mortal is the one who kills them…”

“What?”

“Their soul returns.” He forced himself to continue. “They wake again. Immortal.” The breeze stirred the candle between them as Y/N simply looked at him. Trying to understand. “So…” Her voice had become almost a whisper. “If…” She couldn’t even finish the sentence so he did it for her. “If I kill you…” His throat tightened around the words. “you would come back.” She looked horrified. “Immortal.” Yunho squeezed her hand. “But I’m not going to.” She finally looked back at him. “What?”

“I’m not.”

“Yunho…”

“I can’t.” His voice cracked. “I thought…” He laughed once, bitterly. “I thought maybe I could.” She watched him carefully. “My father believes I should while you still have your youth. He thinks…” Yunho looked out toward the darkening sea. “…it would spare you.” He couldn’t bring himself to explain the rest. That she’d never wrinkle. Never weaken. Never grow frail. Never leave him. He swallowed hard. “I can’t. Y/N I can’t kill you.” She opened her mouth but he kept talking anyway. “I keep trying to convince myself it’s logical.” He laughed quietly. “It isn’t.”

“It is.”

“It isn’t.” His eyes finally met hers again. “Because I…” The words caught. He’d faced armies. Kings. Archangels. Ancient demons. But none of them had ever made him hesitate like this. “I…” He rubbed a hand across his face. “I think… I’m pretty sure…” He laughed nervously at himself. “I’ve fallen in love with you.” The world seemed to stop. Even the waves sounded farther away and just Y/N simply stared as The Prince of Hell looked almost embarrassed. “I wasn’t planning on saying that tonight.” Or for a while. Because it was insane. They’d known each other a week.

“No?”

“I was hoping to have… significantly more dignity.” Despite everything… a tiny smile tugged at the corner of Y/N’s mouth. “You’ve picked a very romantic setting.” She teased. “I suppose I have.” Before either of them could say anything else, their waiter appeared with an apologetic smile. “Forgive the interruption.” Menus were gently set before them. “Are we ready to order?” Yunho looked at Y/N and she nodded. “I think so.” Several minutes later, after deciding on fresh seafood and roasted vegetables, the waiter disappeared once more, leaving them alone beneath the string lights. Neither spoke for a while. Yunho wondered if he’d ruined the evening. Or the honeymoon. Or everything. If she hates him? Then… Y/N quietly broke the silence. “So…” He looked up. “If you don’t…” She searched carefully for the words. “kill me…” He hated hearing her say it. “I’ll grow old normally?”

“Yes.”

She looked down at their joined hands. Then back at him. “Then do it.” His entire body froze. “What?” She held up a finger. “I mean…” A nervous laugh escaped her. “…not right now.” He continued staring. “I don’t want to die tomorrow.”

“Y/N…”

“But…” She looked out toward the moonlit sea for a long moment before returning her gaze to him. “I also don’t want to leave you.” Those six words stole every thought from his mind as she smiled sadly. “You’ve lived four hundred years. I’ve lived twenty four. If we really are…” She squeezed his hand gently. “bound forever…” Her voice softened. “Then I don’t want forever to end because I got old.” Emotion flashed across Yunho’s face so quickly she almost missed it. “I know that’s probably a terrifying thing to hear. But…” She smiled a little. “I’m also pretty sure I’m falling in love with you too.” Yunho stared at her, his immortal heart feeling as if it would blow into a million pieces inside his chest. “You…” She laughed softly. “I wasn’t planning on saying it tonight either.” For a long moment, neither of them spoke as the candle flickered between their hands. Then, finally, Yunho shook his head with an almost disbelieving smile. “You realize…”

“What?”

“this might be the strangest love confession in history.” Y/N laughed through the tears gathering in her eyes. “It definitely is.” He lifted her hand and pressed a gentle kiss across her knuckles. “We don’t have to decide tonight. We have time.” And Yunho allowed himself to believe it. Not because the decision had become easier. But because, whatever they chose, they would face it together.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Morning arrived slowly over Kefalonia. Golden sunlight spilled through the open balcony doors, carrying the scent of saltwater and blooming jasmine into the bedroom. White curtains swayed lazily in the breeze, and somewhere below, waves rolled rhythmically against the cliffs. Yunho opened his eyes first and for a long moment he didn’t move. Y/N was still asleep beside him, naked as he was, tangled in the white sheets, one arm stretched across the space where he’d been lying moments before. Her hair fanned across the pillow, the peaceful expression on her face completely at odds with everything they’d survived to reach this quiet little corner of Greece. He smiled despite himself. A week ago she’d been a stranger. Now… now couldn’t imagine waking up without seeing her there. Careful not to disturb her, Yunho slipped quietly out of bed, grabbing one of the lightweight white robes hanging near the bathroom, tying it loosely around his waist before glancing back one last time. She was still sleeping. “Good,” he murmured to himself. Maybe he could surprise her with breakfast.

The villa was almost unnaturally quiet as he padded downstairs, rubbing a hand through his silver hair. He hadn’t even made it halfway across the kitchen before the unmistakable sound of someone opening the refrigerator reached him and his entire body went rigid. Someone was in the kitchen. Every instinct sharpened at once as the refrigerator door swung shut. “Morning.” Yunho nearly jumped out of his skin. “What the fuck, Wooyoung?” Wooyoung stood there holding an orange juice carton like he’d lived in the villa his entire life. “What?” he replied innocently. “Good morning to you too.” Yunho blinked twice before glaring at the lust demon. “How did you get in here?”

“I opened the door.”

“I locked the door.”

“I’m a demon.”

“That’s not the point.” Wooyoung took a casual sip of juice. “I disagree.” Yunho stared at him in complete disbelief before noticing movement near the island countertop. Someone else was standing there. Dark hair. White linen shirt. Looking thoroughly uncomfortable. “San?” The archangel lifted one hand in an awkward little wave. “Hello.” Yunho slowly closed his eyes. “No.” Wooyoung looked confused. “No?”

“No.”

“What do you mean no?”

“I mean…” Yunho pointed between the two of them. “absolutely not.” Wooyoung frowned. “You haven’t even heard why we’re here.”

“I don’t need to.”

“You really do.”

“I really don’t.”

Wooyoung sighed dramatically. “I need somewhere to hide.”

“Hide from who?”

Wooyoung hesitated. “Several people.”

“How several?”

San answered quietly. “Enough that we thought it was better not to count.” Yunho pinched the bridge of his nose. “Please tell me you didn’t bring your problems to my honeymoon.”

“We didn’t bring them. They followed us.” Yunho looked from Wooyoung…. to San then back to Wooyoung. Then realization dawned and his eyes widened. “You two are hiding together.” Wooyoung smiled proudly. “We’re dating.”

“I gathered.”

“And we’re adorable.”

“Debatable.”

San coughed into his fist, unsuccessfully hiding a smile as Yunho pointed toward the front door. “No.” Wooyoung blinked. “No?”

“You and your fucking archangel boyfriend are not ruining my honeymoon.”

“We’re not ruining anything!”

“You appeared in my kitchen before breakfast!”

“We were very quiet about it.”

“You were stealing my orange juice!”

“I was borrowing it.”

“There is no universe where that’s borrowing.” Wooyoung opened his mouth to argue before the unmistakable sound of bare feet padding across the hardwood stairs echoed through the villa. Yunho’s eyes widened. “Oh, no…” Y/N wandered into the kitchen with sleepy eyes, one hand rubbing at them as she yawned. The white sheet she’d hastily wrapped around herself after realizing Yunho had disappeared was tucked securely beneath one arm, leaving one shoulder bare. She hadn’t even fully opened her eyes yet. “Baby…” she mumbled. “You left me…” Then she looked up and entire body froze. For a solid three seconds, nobody spoke. “Why is Wooyoung here?” Wooyoung slowly raised one hand. “Morning?” Y/N’s eyes narrowed as she looked at Wooyoung then to San who she had no idea was. Then at Yunho standing there in nothing but a robe. Then right back to Wooyoung. “Am I still asleep?”

“No,” Yunho answered unfortunately.

“I was hoping I was.”

Wooyoung offered her an awkward smile. “In my defense…”

“You have a defense?”

“I didn’t know you’d be downstairs this early.” Y/N looked down at the sheet wrapped around herself before letting out a tiny squeak. “Oh my God.” It wasn’t as bad as Seonghwa walking in on them in the shower but she was still naked under that sheet. Without another word, she spun around so fast the sheet nearly came loose, caught it at the last second, and bolted straight back toward the staircase. “I’ll… I’ll be back!” Her voice echoed from halfway upstairs. “With clothes!” The bedroom door slammed shut behind her. Wooyoung looked after her before slowly turning back to Yunho. “She looks thoroughly fucked out so I’m assuming the honeymoon has gone splendidly so far.” Yunho stared at him with the flattest expression imaginable. “I am going to throw you into Purgatory myself.” San quietly took another sip of coffee he’d apparently already made for himself. “I did suggest knocking.”

“You did,” Wooyoung admitted.

“I distinctly remember saying, Perhaps we shouldn’t surprise the newlyweds.”

“You did say that.”

“And yet…” Wooyoung shrugged. “I thought it’d be funny.” Yunho let out a long sigh, dropping his forehead briefly into one hand. “I cannot believe this is my honeymoon.” A few minutes later, the bedroom door opened again and Y/N descended the stairs much more cautiously this time, now dressed in a pair of denim shorts and one of Yunho’s oversized black Henleys that nearly reached the middle of her thighs. She stopped beside Yunho, lightly bumping his arm. “You could’ve warned me.”

“I just found them. There wasn’t exactly time for a detailed explanation.” She huffed a laugh despite herself before looking back at Wooyoung. “So…. What are you doing here?” Wooyoung smiled brightly at her. “Well…. the big guy upstairs kind of found out one of his favorite archangels have been topping me and he might be a tad bit mad.” San closed his eyes. “I told you that wasn’t how you should phrase it.”

“It was the quickest explanation.”

“It was certainly… an explanation.”

Y/N looked from Wooyoung to San, then slowly toward Yunho. “Did I hear that correctly?” Yunho sighed. “Unfortunately.” Wooyoung leaned casually against the kitchen island. “So now Heaven is looking for him.” San raised a finger. “Technically, they’re looking for both of us.”

“True.”

Y/N frowned. “Because you’re… together?” San nodded. “It isn’t exactly encouraged.” Wooyoung snorted. “Encouraged is one way to put it.” San rubbed the back of his neck, looking genuinely apologetic. “We really are sorry.” Y/N looked at him. He was the complete opposite of Wooyoung. Calm where Wooyoung was chaos. Polite where Wooyoung was… well, Wooyoung. “So…” she said carefully, “how long are you planning on hiding here?” Wooyoung looked at San and neither answered making Yunho glare at them. “Absolutely not.”

“What?”

“That silence tells me you don’t have a plan.”

“We’re figuring it out.”

Y/N laughed again before walking over to the coffee machine. “Okay,” she said, reaching for a mug. “Before anybody starts another argument…” She glanced over her shoulder. “does anyone else want coffee?”

“I would love some more,” San answered politely as Wooyoung raised his hand. “I’ll take some.” Yunho stared at him. “You have some nerve asking my wife to make you coffee after breaking into our villa.” Wooyoung looked at Y/N. “See! I told you he’s possessive.” Y/N smiled over the rim of the coffee tin. “I’ve noticed.” Yunho looked at her in mock betrayal. “You were supposed to be on my side.”

“I am.”

“Then why are you smiling?”

“Because…” She laughed softly as she measured out the coffee grounds. “I kind of think this is the most normal morning we’ve had all week.” The kitchen fell quiet for a moment. She wasn’t wrong. No earthquakes. No demon politics. No assassination threats. Yunho looked around the room, then back at Y/N and a reluctant smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. “I suppose it is.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Late afternoon sunshine bathed the harbor in warm gold by the time the four of them finally left the villa. Y/N stepped out onto the stone walkway first, a pair of sunglasses perched atop her head as the sea breeze immediately caught the flowing hem of her black dress. The long sleeves hugged her arms while the cutouts at her waist revealed just enough skin to keep it playful, the asymmetrical skirt drifting behind her with every step. It was the kind of outfit that looked effortlessly elegant against the whitewashed buildings of Kefalonia, especially with the sparkling blue water stretching endlessly beyond them. Yunho followed a second later, locking the villa behind him. His silver hair caught the sunlight as he adjusted the sleeves of the red and black flannel hanging open over a fitted black tank top. Black cargo shorts sat comfortably on his hips, sunglasses hooked through the neckline of his shirt. It was the closest thing the Prince of Hell owned to vacation clothes. He looked up and stopped. “Seriously?” Y/N turned in a slow circle, letting the breeze lift the skirt slightly before planting a hand on her hip. “What?”

“You couldn’t have warned me.”

“About?”

“That.”

She looked down at herself with exaggerated innocence as he laughed under his breath. “I was hoping we’d actually make it through today’s sightseeing.”

“We are.”

“No, we’re not.”

“Why not?”

“Because I’m going to spend the entire day making sure every man around the island remembers how to keep his eyes to himself.”

Y/N grinned. “There he is.” Her grin slowly turned into a smirk.

“Who?”

“My possessive husband.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Mhm.” She reached up, tugging lightly on one of the strings near the neckline of her dress and Yunho’s eyes immediately followed the movement. “Don’t.” A mischievous smile spread across her face. “I didn’t even do anything.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“I was.”

“I knew it.”

She laughed, slipping her hand into his before he could continue pouting. “I dressed up for you. Because I love the way you look at me.” That stole every remaining complaint from him and his ears turned the faintest shade of pink. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“I just did.” Before Yunho could recover enough to answer, the front gate creaked open behind them. “Oh good!” Wooyoung announced brightly. “You’re finally ready.” Yunho’s shoulders sagged. “No.” San offered an apologetic smile as he stepped through the gate behind him, dressed simply in a loose cream button up with the sleeves rolled to his forearms and light linen trousers. “We brought pastries.” Wooyoung triumphantly held up a paper bag. “And coffee.”

“I don’t care.”

“They’re still warm.”

“I still don’t care.”

Wooyoung looked genuinely offended at Yunho. “You don’t care about pastries?”

“I care that you’re here.”

“We’re sightseeing together.”

“No, we’re sightseeing.” Yunho pointed between himself and Y/N. Then pointed toward Wooyoung and San. “You two are following us.”

“It’s the same island.”

“Go see a different part of it.”

Wooyoung draped an arm around San’s shoulders. “But we like this part.” San quietly lifted the paper bag. “There are pistachio croissants.” Y/N’s head turned so quickly Yunho almost laughed. “Pistachio?” The archangel nodded. “The bakery owner insisted we try them.” Y/N looked at Yunho. Then at the bag. Then back at her husband. “Can they come?” Yunho stared at her in disbelief. “You’ve betrayed me…”

“They have pastries.”

“You were on my side five seconds ago.”

“I still am.”

“You switched teams for baked goods.”

“I switched teams for pistachio baked goods.”

Wooyoung pumped a victorious fist into the air. “Yes!” Yunho pinched the bridge of his nose. “I cannot believe I just lost my wife to a croissant.”

“You didn’t lose her,” Wooyoung said, already pulling one from the bag. “You merely underestimated the power of European pastries.” San accepted his own pastry before offering one to Y/N with a warm smile and she took it happily. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Y/N smiled at San before she looked up at Yunho, slipping her hand back into his. “Come on, Prince of Hell.” She tugged him gently toward the winding streets overlooking the harbor. “I want to see the island.” Still muttering under his breath about uninvited guests and stolen honeymoons, Yunho let himself be pulled along anyway, his fingers tightening around hers as the four of them disappeared into the maze of sunlit streets above the sparkling Ionian sea. The streets of Argostoli were alive with the lazy rhythm of a Greek afternoon. Balconies overflowed with bright bougainvillea, cats lounged in patches of warm sunlight without a care in the world, and every few storefronts another café spilled laughter onto the cobblestone streets. The scent of fresh bread, citrus, and the sea drifted together on the breeze as tourists wandered between little family owned shops selling handmade ceramics, olive oils, local wines, and shelves full of tiny souvenirs. Y/N was absolutely in heaven. “Ooh.” She disappeared into yet another little shop before Yunho had even finished the last bite of his croissant. He stopped outside the doorway. “Again?” She looked over her shoulder. “They have magnets.”

San accepted the paper shopping bag Y/N had already filled with postcards and little bottles of locally made olive oil. “I can carry these.”

“Thank you.”

Yunho reached for the bag. “I’ll carry them.” San immediately let go. “Of course.” Y/N smiled to herself. There it was again. She wandered deeper into the shop, picking up a tiny hand painted ceramic pomegranate before holding it toward the sunlight. “It’s cute.”

“It’s fragile.”

“I know.”

“It’ll break in the suitcase.”

“I know.”

“You’re buying it anyway.”

“I am.”

Yunho sighed dramatically before taking it from her with surprising care and wrapping it back in the tissue paper exactly as the shop owner had packed it. She watched him for a second. Then another. Until finally… a smile slowly spread across her face. “You know… you’re kind of like a puppy.” Yunho looked up. “Excuse me?” She nodded confidently. “You follow me everywhere.”

“I do not.”

“You absolutely do.”

“I’m making sure you don’t accidentally buy the entire island.”

“Mhm.”

“You have no sense of restraint. And honestly I blame myself.”

She folded her arms. “And yet…” He raised an eyebrow. “you’ve been carrying every single bag I’ve bought.”

“That’s called being helpful.”

“No.” She stepped closer, grinning. “That’s called puppy behavior.” Wooyoung laughed so hard he nearly dropped his coffee ad Y/N slipped her hand into Yunho’s again. “You know…” she said more quietly this time, “I kind of like having my own very tall puppy.”

“I am not a puppy.”

“No?”

“No.”

“You just happen to follow me into every shop.”

“I’m supervising.”

“Mhm.”

“So you don’t spend three thousand euros on decorative spoons.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You were thinking about it.”

“I was considering them.”

“I knew it.”

She laughed, leaning briefly against his arm before they wandered back outside into the warm afternoon sun. They spent another hour weaving through narrow streets lined with colorful storefronts until Y/N suddenly stopped in front of a small artisan shop tucked between a bakery and a florist. Wind chimes danced gently outside the entrance. Inside, shelves overflowed with handcrafted wooden music boxes, carved figurines, embroidered tablecloths, and delicate stained glass ornaments that caught the sunlight like little jewels. Yunho slowed beside her and his smile faded into something quieter as his eyes lingered on a small carved wooden jewelry box decorated with pressed flowers beneath polished glass. “My mom would’ve loved this place.” The words slipped out before he could stop them. Y/N turned toward him. Watching as he seemed to lose him for a moment in memories. “You’ve… never really talked about her.” He didn’t answer. For several long seconds he simply stared through the shop window. Even Wooyoung fell silent and San quietly drifted toward the opposite side of the street, giving them space without saying a word. Y/N didn’t push. She simply waited until Yunho exhaled slowly. “My father met her in Korea.” His voice had become softer than she’d ever heard it. “The early 1600s. She was a witch.” He smiled faintly. “She’d already been practicing for decades.” He looked toward the mountains rising beyond the town. “She fascinated him.”

“I can imagine.”

“He wasn’t supposed to stay.”

“But he did.”

“He stayed for almost thirty years.”

Y/N’s eyebrows lifted.

“Thirty?”

“He kept finding excuses.” A tiny smile tugged at the corner of Yunho’s mouth. “He’d claimed he was studying humans.” Y/N laughed quietly. “He was studying one human.”

“Exactly.” Yunho looked back toward the little jewelry box. “They fell in love.”

“And she knew… who he was?”

“From the first day.”

“How?”

“She told me the first thing she did when he appeared in her cottage…” His smile became almost nostalgic. “was throw salt at him.” Y/N stared at him, a small snort leaving her. “What?”

“It didn’t work.”

She laughed. “I assume not.”

“She told him afterward she knew he wasn’t a ghost.”

“What did she think he was?”

“A very handsome problem.”

Y/N grinned. “You and your father seemed to have that in common.” Yunho chuckled softly, his smile slowly disappearing again. “When she was around forty… my father brought her and me to Hell.” Y/N looked at him in surprise. “She lived there?”

“For years.” He nodded. “She had her own gardens. My father rebuilt an entire courtyard because she said Hell needed flowers.” Y/N couldn’t help smiling at the image. “I can actually picture Lucifer doing that.”

“He complained the entire time.”

“But he still did it.”

“He always did.” The warmth left Yunho’s expression. “But…” His voice became almost a whisper. “They weren’t bound.” Y/N’s smile faded. “So…”

“So she stayed human.” Yunho swallowed the lump in his throat at those last memories of his mother. “She kept getting older.” The sounds of the busy street seemed to fade around them as he looked out toward the sea. “My father could’ve interfered. But she wouldn’t let him. She said death had already chosen its path.” His fingers tightened almost unconsciously around Y/N’s hand. “By the time she became sick… she was tired. She told him she’d had a beautiful life.” His voice grew rough. “She didn’t want the man she loved spending eternity wondering whether she’d only stayed because he refused to let her go.” Y/N felt her chest tighten. “What did he do?”

“He respected her choice.” Yunho stared silently toward the glittering Ionian Sea. “I’ve never seen my father beg anyone before.” He gave a quiet, humorless laugh. Yunho had been too young to understand it then. Looking back now, he realized that wasn’t the King of Hell kneeling beside his mother’s bed. It was simply a husband who couldn’t imagine a world without his wife. “But he begged her.” His eyes never left the horizon. “And she still smiled at him… held his face… and told him that loving someone doesn’t mean stealing every goodbye.” For a long moment, neither of them moved. Y/N simply reached for his hand with both of hers. And this time… it wasn’t because he was following her. It was because she realized exactly where his fear came from. It had never been about immortality alone. He had watched the most powerful being he’d ever known discover that even love couldn’t always win against time.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Night settled over the villa with the slow, easy rhythm that seemed unique to the Greek islands. The balcony doors had been left cracked open, allowing the cool evening breeze to drift through the bedroom, carrying the distant sounds of waves rolling against the cliffs below. Moonlight spilled across the hardwood floors in pale silver ribbons as steam still lingered in the adjoining bathroom. The shower shut off and a moment later Yunho stepped out, a white towel slung low around his waist as he rubbed another through his damp hair. Water still traced lazy paths down his shoulders while he wandered barefoot into the bedroom. Y/N was curled comfortably against the headboard, a book she’d picked up earlier that afternoon resting in her lap as she glanced up. “Feeling better?”

“Hm.” Yunho stopped as a muffled thump echoed from somewhere farther down the hallway. Then another thump. Then what sounded suspiciously like someone moaning before being hastily shushed. He slowly closed his eyes. “I should just let God kill them.” Y/N looked up from her book. “What?” Another muffled moan drifted through the villa and her eyebrows lifted. “Oh.” Yunho pinched the bridge of his nose. “I gave them one guest room. I specifically gave them the guest room on the opposite side of the villa.” Another unmistakable moan louder this time. “And somehow,” he muttered, “they’re still the loudest people on the island.” Y/N bit the inside of her cheek, trying very hard not to laugh. “They’re really…”

“Unfortunately.”

She pulled the blanket a little higher as amusement spread across her face. “I forgot…” Yunho looked over with one brow raised. “Isn’t he like your…” She gestured vaguely. “grandfather or something?” He furrowed his brows. “Who?”

“God.”

Yunho shrugged as though she had asked whether he’d ever tried olives. “Technically.”

“Technically?”

“I’ve never met him. My dad hates him. He hates my dad. Hates me. And everyone hates him.” That answer caught her off guard. “Really?” Yunho shook his head, sitting on the edge of the bed. “Just because humans worship him…. doesn’t make him good.” Y/N was quiet for a while. The only sounds in the room were the waves beyond the balcony and the occasional muffled noise from somewhere down the hallway that Yunho was making a very deliberate effort to ignore. She closed her book and rested it on the nightstand. “Yeah.” Yunho looked over. “They usually are.” His brow furrowed slightly. “What do you mean?” She drew one knee toward her chest, absentmindedly tracing the edge of the blanket with her fingertips. “My ex…” The words came slowly. “I…” She let out a small breath. “I broke up with him about a year before my grandma passed. He was…” She gave a humorless little laugh. “Perfect.”

“Perfect?”

“To everyone else.” She looked toward the moonlit balcony. “He volunteered. He remembered birthdays. He brought flowers to my grandma every Sunday.” She smiled sadly. “People loved him.” Yunho watched her expression change. It wasn’t anger. It was disappointment. Like she still mourned the version of him she’d thought existed. And he didn’t like it. Knew he wouldn’t like what she was about to say. “Then…” she said quietly. “he wasn’t.” Silence settled over the room and Yunho’s gaze never left her but his jaw clenched, his claws elongating without thinking. “What happened?” She swallowed. “He got comfortable.” The words barely rose above a whisper. “It started with little things.” She shrugged faintly. “Telling me what I should wear. What friends I shouldn’t spend time with. Criticizing everything I did.” She looked down at her hands. “And every time I’d say something…” Her smile disappeared. “he’d apologize. And then he’d do it again.” Yunho’s eyes went black as she continued. “I kept telling myself he’d go back to being the person I met. But he didn’t.”

Yunho had to control himself. Choose his words wisely. Because if she said what he thought she was going to…. if this story went where he knew it was going…. “Did he hurt you?” The question was so quiet it almost disappeared into the breeze. Y/N looked at him and for a long moment she didn’t answer. “It’s why I left him.” Something shifted in Yunho. His entire posture changed. The softness he’d been carrying all evening was completely gone now beneath something much colder. His eyes remained on hers, but there was now a dangerous stillness behind the black depths. When he finally spoke, his voice was calm. Almost too calm. “Do you want me to kill him?”

“What?”

“If that’s what you want…” He didn’t look like he was joking. “I can.” She stared at him. “Yunho…”

“He’ll never touch you again.”

“He hasn’t.”

“He never will.” His expression never changed. “I’ll make certain of it.” She reached over and gently took his hand. “No. I already got away.” His jaw remained set as she shook her head. “I don’t need revenge.”

“He hurt you.”

“He did.”

“And he gets to keep living like nothing happened.”

Y/N gave his hand a gentle squeeze. She forgot momentarily that this was the son of Satan she was talking to. “Maybe.” She offered him a small, tired smile. But if I asked you to kill every person who ever hurt me…” Her thumb brushed across his knuckles. “I’d lose the man I’m falling in love with.” That finally made him look at her. Really look at her. “And I don’t want that.” His shoulders loosened if only slightly as he turned his hand over and intertwined their fingers. “I still don’t like him.” She laughed softly. “I don’t either. And hey, if I ever see him again….” She leaned over, kissing him, lips lingering against his own. “you can kick his ass.” A soft laugh escaped Yunho as he leaned in again, kissing her once more. It was slower this time, unhurried, the kind of kiss that didn’t need to prove anything. His hand came up to cradle the side of her face, his thumb brushing gently across her cheek as though reassuring himself she was really there. When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together as the moonlight spilled across the room, painting silver across the blankets while the sea whispered beyond the balcony. Yunho looked into her eyes for a long moment. “I would never do that.” Y/N searched his face, not sure what he meant. “What?”

“Hurt you. Like that.” His voice was barely above a whisper as she watched him carefully. “But I will never become that.” His hand slipped into hers again. “I know…” He gave a small, almost self conscious smile. “I know that’s not something I can just promise and expect you to believe.” He looked down at their intertwined fingers. “Anyone can make promises.” His thumb brushed slowly across the back of her hand. “But…” When he looked back up, there wasn’t a trace of uncertainty left in his eyes that had slowly turned back to their normal brown along with his claws retreating. “I have eternity to prove it to you.” The words settled over the room like the gentle sound of the waves outside. “I’ll spend every day showing you.” Y/N felt her throat tighten. “You don’t have to convince me.”

“I want to. I need to.” For himself and for her. She reached up, brushing a damp strand of silver hair away from his forehead. “I already believe you.” The corner of Yunho’s mouth lifted into a small smile. “I still intend to prove you right.” She smiled back before leaning forward to kiss him again. “You really are impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

Y/N reached for him without hesitation, fingers curling into the damp fabric of his towel as she tugged him forward and Yunho came willingly, lowering himself until their mouths met again in a slow, deeper kiss that tasted like midnight and salt air. His lips trailed lower, brushing the column of her throat, then dragging his tongue deliberately across the faint mark he’d left there back at Keres’ villa. The wet heat of it making her shiver and in a voice she had never heard from him before, low, cracked open, almost fragile, he whispered against her skin, “Let me make love to you.”

She watched him, breath caught, as he sat back just enough to peel the oversized henley up and over her head. The shirt landed somewhere on the floor and Yunho’s gaze dropped to her breasts and leaned in again, pressing open mouthed kisses across the swell of one, then the other, tongue circling a nipple slowly before he sucked it between his lips, drawing a soft sound from her throat. The towel around his waist had already begun to tent, the thick outline of his dick pressed visibly against the cotton as he took his time, alternating between gentle sucks and the flat drag of his tongue. He kissed lower, down the center of her stomach, the muscles there twitching under his mouth as his horns unglamored as he moved, dark and ridged, curving back from his temples. The sight of them made something tighten low in Y/N belly as Yunho settled between her spread thighs, pressing kisses to the soft skin there before hooking his fingers into her panties and sliding them down.

He kissed her pussy first, then lower, lips parting to drag his tongue through her folds in one long, unhurried stroke making Y/N gasp, hips twitching as Yunho’s hands slid under her thighs, holding her open as he licked again, slower this time, savoring. He sealed his mouth over her clit and sucked, tongue flicking in tight circles until her back arched and her hands found his horns without thinking, fingers wrapping around them. The moment she gripped them, Yunho moaned into her pussy, the vibration traveling straight through her as he doubled down, sucking harder, tongue working relentlessly while she held onto his horns like handles. He kept her pinned with one broad forearm across her lower belly, refusing to let her squirm away as he focused on her clit. The pressure building fast and sharp until Y/N’s thighs trembled around his head. “Yunho… baby…” she sobbed, voice breaking as her orgasm hit hard. Her whole body seizing, thighs clamping around his head as she came against his mouth. But Yunho didn’t pull back, he licked her through every pulse, tongue broad and gentle now, cleaning every drop until she was shaking and oversensitive. Only then did he kiss his way back up her body, lips shiny as sat back on his knees between her legs, the towel finally discarded as he yanked it off. His dick stood heavy and flushed, the tip glistening as he wrapped one hand around the base and dragged the length slowly through her slick folds, rubbing the underside against her swollen clit without pushing inside.

Y/N watched as he kept a steady rhythm until the teasing became too much and she reached down, fingers circling his wrist. “Please… I need you inside me.” Yunho’s eyes flicked up to hers, dark and soft at the same time, she didn’t have to beg again, he’d give her whatever she wanted. He tapped his his dick against her clit once more before lining himself up and sinking in slowly, inch by inch, watching her face the entire time. Once he was fully buried inside her, he lifted one of her legs, hooking it over his shoulder so he could hold it there while her other leg wrapped around his waist and he stayed upright on his knees, rolling his hips in long, measured strokes that let her feel every inch. His gaze stayed fixed on where they joined. Her arousal coated him, creamy and glistening each time he withdrew and the sight made his jaw tighten.

He leaned his forehead against the leg he held, breathing through his nose as he watched his dick disappear inside her again and again. After several minutes of that slow pace he lowered her leg, wrapping both of hers around his waist, leaning over her as his thrusts deepened, still controlled but gaining speed. Y/N’s arms came up around his shoulders, hands finding his horns once more and the moment she gripped them he groaned, hips stuttering. “Fuck, just like that,” he breathed against her ear. “Hold onto me. You feel so good…. so tight and wet and perfect. Taking me so well. Mine…” She moaned, clenching around him. “Yunho… you’re so deep. Don’t stop.” She pulled herself up a little by the grip she had on his horns, forehead against his own. “Please….. I need it…..” He kissed her, swallowing the words, then buried his face in her neck again as his pace quickened. The wet sound of skin meeting skin filled the room as her thighs started to shake again. “I’m….. fuck, I’m coming,” she gasped, voice high and broken as the first gush of her release hit him and he moaned loudly into her throat, hips never faltering. She squirted around him, soaking the sheets beneath them while she sobbed his name over and over.

Yunho kept thrusting through it, drawing every last tremor from her until she was limp and whimpering and only then did his own control slip. His thrusts grew erratic, desperate as he moved to press his forehead back against hers, eyes squeezed shut. “Gonna fill you up,” he panted. “Again….. and again….” His dick twitched inside her. “And again……. fuck…. love you…..” it slipped out as he came with a broken whimper, dick pulsing deep inside her. His hips jerked with each spurt until he had nothing left, body trembling above her. And he stayed buried to the hilt, breathing hard, pressing soft kisses to her jaw and temple while they both came down. And for a long moment neither of them moved. Yunho’s body stay joined with hers until eventually he eased out carefully, watching the mix of their releases slip from her and then kissed her again, slower this time, almost reverent. “Stay right there,” he murmured. “I’ll get something to clean you up… then we can do that all over again if you want.”

Y/N smiled, dazed and sated, fingers still loosely curled around one of his horns. “I want.” Yunho’s answering grin was soft and wicked all at once as he leaned down to kiss her once more before slipping off the bed, already planning how he would take his time with her again. That little “love you” slip up lingering around them, Yunho realizing he didn’t even notice he’d said it until it was already out in the open, but there was no fighting it. No denying it. Because he did. He does. And damn anyone who tried taking her from him.

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Your friends thought you were crazy for your curiosity about vampires, but you couldn't help it. How could you not wonder what made them immortal? How could you not imagine being bitten by one after the stories you'd heard of the pleasure it brought?

The bouncer checked your ID and gave you a red wristband before permitting entry. "Red is for humans, white is for vampires," he informed you as he opened the door.

You wanted to ask if it was red for blood and white for death but decided not to. The last thing you wanted was to accidentally offend a vampire before even making it inside. Instead, you nodded and took your first steps into the club.

The first thing you noticed was the darkness. You could barely see more than a few feet in front of you, forcing you to weave through the packed crowd before finally reaching the bar where the air was at least slightly easier to breathe.

The bartender looked up. "What can I get you?"

"A Bloody Mary," you answered, deciding it felt strangely appropriate for a vampire bar.

You weren't entirely sure he'd heard you over the pounding music, but he nodded without hesitation and immediately began mixing the drink.

When he returned he set down the Bloody Mary along with a shot. "First time here?" he asked, looking surprisingly human despite the white wristband that clung to his skin.

"That obvious?" you laughed as you sucked down some of the drink.

"You seem a little... tense," he observed, his eyes flicking to the white-knuckled grip you had on your bag.

You glanced down in surprise. You hadn't even realized how tightly you'd been clutching it. Embarrassed, you loosened your fingers and flexed your hand, wincing as your aching knuckles protested from being clenched for so long.

"I've never met a vampire before," you confessed. "My hometown is really small and close-minded about non-humans."

"But you're not," he pointed out.

You smiled that he'd noticed your willingness to give vampires a try. "You used to be human once, too. I just can't fathom thinking that you'd be so different that we couldn't just get along."

"We do drink blood, little human," he reminded you as you both turned to watch a man in the corner tilt his head to allow a vampire to drink from him.

You couldn't look away from it...

The man gasped and held the vampire closer, eyes falling back as she sucked from his neck with needy moans. She pulled away after only a few seconds, but the man hadn't had enough. He kissed her gently and exposed his throat again, urging her to take more which she happily did.

"The vamps won't bite you unless you want it," the bartender explained as he took away your empty glass.

"Why would anyone want to be bitten?" you questioned in awe.

He smirked and leaned in, eyes trailing from your chest to your throat in such a way that you couldn't help but feel the tension. "The better question is, why would anyone not want it," he whispered as he inched forward a little more. You impulsively moved towards him, briefly wondering if he would bite you, but just as the thought crossed your mind, he eased back with a cocky lift of his brow.

Your breath hastened and you dizzily thanked him before downing the shot and stepping into the crowd before he could see how embarrassed you were. You had come here primarily to observe vampires and maybe chat with one, but after just one conversation, you were shamefully turned on.

You danced your way into the crowd, eventually melting into it and becoming just another human enjoying the music. It felt mostly like being at a regular club except that couples were sucking each other's necks instead of making out.

One vampire, in particular, eventually caught your attention. His lips brushed against a woman's throat, lingering just above her pulse, but instead of sinking his fangs into her skin the way everyone else was with their human companions, he slowly traced the line of her neck with the tip of his tongue. Every movement was pure sex, and throughout it all, his firm gaze never left yours.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of his mouth before he pressed a final kiss beneath the woman's ear and murmured something to her. She glanced back at him with a knowing smile, then turned to meet your eyes. Without a word, she started walking toward you.

You swallowed hard and looked around to see if she could be heading for anyone else, but all the other humans nearby were either wrapped up in their own conversations or tucked into the arms of vampires.

"Yunho would like to see you," she said simply as she passed before disappearing into the crowd.

Your eyes found him again almost instantly, and you realized he was still staring as if he'd never looked away. You hesitated for a second, but your feet began moving before you could fully decide whether it was a good idea to answer a vampire's call or not. You felt compelled to go to him.

When you finally reached him, the first thing you noticed was his height. He towered over you with an effortless sort of dominance, forcing you to tilt your head just to meet his eyes. Up close, he was devastatingly handsome in a way that felt almost unnatural...as though beauty itself had been sharpened into a weapon.

His skin was flawless porcelain, pale enough to make the dim lights of the club seem warm against it, while his lips were stained a rich crimson that looked permanently kissed by fresh blood. Every feature was impossibly precise: a sculpted jaw, high cheekbones, dark eyes that held the quiet promise of violence beneath their calm surface. You were entranced by him.

"I've never seen you here before," he pointed out, as if he had a catalogue of former patrons cycling through his mind.

Before you could answer, his cool fingers slid beneath your hair, sweeping it over one shoulder with effortless familiarity. The touch was gentle, yet it was clearly meant to keep you rooted in place. His gaze drifted slowly along the exposed line of your neck as his fingertips traced your skin, searching with practiced precision for that pulse point he was so familiar with. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his mouth once he found it.

"You've never been bitten," he observed, sounding almost intrigued. "Not once."

"There are no vampires in my hometown," you told him. "I came here to find out what vampires were really like," you admitted, the words stumbling out far less confidently than you'd intended.

It was becoming difficult to think with his hands resting against your skin. His touch was impossibly cold, sending a chill racing down your spine. If not for the crush of bodies and the suffocating warmth of the crowded club, you were certain you would've shivered beneath his fingertips.

"We're just like you," he said dryly, the words dripping with sarcasm as he echoed the slogan the vampire delegate, Hongjoong, had repeated every time he appeared on television.

You caught the flicker of contempt that crossed his face before he could hide it. "You don't believe that," you realized.

A humorless smile ghosted across his lips. "We may have once been human," he said quietly, "but we've evolved into something far greater." As he spoke, his thumb traced a slow path along your neck before gliding beneath your jaw. The gentle pressure coaxed your chin upward before you even realized you'd moved. "It would be an insult to my kind to pretend we're equals with our prey." His gaze lingered on your face, a dark lust in his eyes. Then, after the briefest pause, the corner of his mouth lifted. "Even when our prey is as beautiful as you."

"Prey?" you echoed, swallowing hard as images of foxes chasing rabbits flashed through your mind.

"You sound surprised." Amusement flickered in his crimson eyes. "Surely you knew we drink blood."

"I do." You frowned. "But... aren't you supposed to bite and release now?"

The government's Bite and Release campaign had been impossible to escape. Every commercial, every billboard, every interview insisted the same thing: vampires fed responsibly, took only what they needed, and always let their donors walk away unharmed.

"Mhm," he answered lazily. "That is what we're supposed to do."

Every hair on your body stood on end, and you instinctively tried to pull away for fear of what he might do, but Yunho's grip remained firm. You whimpered as he tilted your head farther to the side, exposing more of your neck despite your futile attempts to resist. His razor-sharp fangs hovered just above your skin, and you squeezed your eyes shut, bracing yourself for the bite.

When his lips brushed your neck instead, a startled gasp escaped you as your fingers instinctively clutched the front of his shirt. A relief so overwhelming that it made your knees weak flooded through your body. It felt ridiculous that a simple kiss could bring such comfort after he'd spent the last minute convincing you he was about to sink his fangs into your throat, and yet that was exactly what had happened.

As you finally exhaled and caught your breath, Yunho inhaled deeply, his grip tightening around your waist as he pulled you flush against him.

"I want to fucking tear you apart," he rasped against your ear, his voice rough enough to send a chill down your spine. "I want to sink my fangs into your throat and drain every last drop from you while you beg someone to save you."

You couldn't speak. Every instinct told you to pull away, but you knew it would only make his grip tighten. He was stronger than you by an impossible margin, and if he truly wanted you dead, there wasn't a single thing you could do to stop him.

"I could throw you over my shoulder right now," he imagined, his voice low against your ear, "and have you back at my place before anyone even realized you were gone." His hold on your waist tightened as he let the thought linger between you. "No one would be able to stop me."

You choked on a breath.

"Fuck," he breathed. "You'd make a beautiful corpse to add to my collection."

You began to hyperventilate, body freezing against him. Yunho was a killer...the top of a fucked up food chain with only two species...vampire and human...predator and prey.

He slowly dragged his tongue along your throat, a low, satisfied sound escaping him as his fangs barely skimmed your skin. "Fear tastes good on you, bunny," he murmured.

"B...bunny?" you stuttered, curious where the name had come from.

"Mhm," he hummed, dragging his tongue along your throat once more before turning you to face the crowded room. His hands settled on your hips as he held you against him. "You're just a little, helpless prey," he murmured. "Like a bunny."

Your frantic gaze swept across the club, desperately searching for anyone who might notice the fear written across your face, but every person around you was lost in their own conversation, dance, or embrace. No one even spared you a second glance.

A breathy sigh escaped Yunho as he pressed closer from behind, one hand flattening against your stomach while he rocked his hips against you as if to simulate fucking you. "See, bunny?" he whispered near your ear. "No one's coming to save you. I can do whatever I want to you."

You began to tremble as your life flashed before your eyes. Your friends had been right all along about vampires. Your town had known better than to let them settle within its borders. You'd never have children, earn that promotion, or see the rest of the world.

You were going to die here. Yunho was going to kill you.

"But the bartender said..." you began, voice shaking so badly you barely recognized it. "He said you wouldn't bite me unless I wanted you to."

"I haven't bitten you yet, bunny. Have I?" he murmured as his hand slid over your chest to the curve of your throat.

A shaky gasp escaped your lips, and you quickly shook your head, tears spilled over despite yourself. Yunho brushed them away with gentle kisses, each one accompanied by a quiet hum of satisfaction.

"You don't have to pretend to be afraid, bunny," he whispered, the corners of his mouth curling into a knowing smile. "I can tell you're enjoying being played with."

"I'm not pretending," you insisted, your voice trembling despite the conviction behind your words.

"Mmm." A smug smile tugged at his lips. "Then why are you grinding against me, bunny?"

Your stomach dropped. Only then did you realize you'd been unconsciously matching the slow rhythm he'd set, your body responding on instinct while your mind had been consumed by panic. The moment you forced yourself still, Yunho let out a low chuckle.

"Aww did I embarrass you?" he teased. He released you just long enough for you to stumble forward before curling a hand around your wrist and leading you toward a secluded corner lined with leather booths. As he approached, the surrounding vampires and humans alike scattered as though it were a ritual for him to claim this exact booth for this exact reason.

"Are you tired of dancing?" you asked, lip quivering from the fear that this isolated corner was an even more dangerous place to be than the crowded dance floor.

A quiet laugh rumbled in his chest. "You're quite ignorant of the lack of limitations for vampires, aren't you, bunny?" His crimson eyes gleamed with amusement as you blinked back dumbfounded. "Vampires don't get tired," he added.

Before you could process that, his hands settled on your waist as he effortlessly lifted you, guiding one of your legs over his hip until you were perched against him.

You tried to sit taller if for no other reason than to avoid the embarrassment of him realizing you were wet, but he yanked you down and assisted in rolling your hips up and down his clothed length.

"Mmm. See?" A smug smile tugged at his lips as he felt the warmth your body had betrayed you with. "You're not afraid." His thumb traced a slow circle against your hip before his gaze lifted to yours. "Or maybe," he murmured, "fear is exactly what turns you on."

"I'd have to be really fucked up to be turned on right now," you breathed, your cheeks flushing despite yourself.

"And you are, aren't you?" he taunted as a devilish smile spread across his face. "Just a frightened little bunny that wandered straight into my trap."

His eyes never left yours as he reached for the button of his jeans, undoing it with a slow confidence before tugging the waistband lower.

"Someone will see," you warned, your voice barely above a whisper as you glanced behind you.

Amusement flickered across Yunho's face. "So you're not opposed to bouncing on my cock," he mused. "You're only opposed to doing it in public?"

Your face burned. Only after the words left his mouth did you realize what you'd actually implied. You hadn't told him no. You'd only told him not here.

"Besides," he continued as he adjusted his clothing and nudged your underwear aside, "vampire bars are very sex-forward."

Before you could think of a response, he guided you down onto his length with agonizing slowness, his gaze fixed on your face as he gradually buried himself inside you. He watched for every twitch of pleasure or pain, every breath held before a whine released.

Your head instinctively fell against his shoulder to muffle a louder moan threatening to escape, but Yunho caught your chin and gently tilted your face back, exposing your throat to him once more.

"I want every little pervy human in this room to watch you fuck me," he murmured. "And when you're finally ready to come..." His lips ghosted over the pulse in your neck where he inhaled deeply as if smelling your blood just beneath the surface. "You're going to beg me to bite you." His thumb lingered beneath your jaw, keeping your gaze where he wanted it. "Understood?"

You were too busy raising and dropping your hips to answer, but one firm grip of your hip had you replying in seconds. "Yes. Yes, I will beg," you conceded shamefully.

"Good, bunny," he murmured as he loosened his grip just enough to let you ride him.

Yunho leaned back against the booth and simply watched you, his crimson eyes never leaving your face. Your eyes were squeezed shut, your lips parted while every shaky breath betrayed just how overwhelmed you were. One hand remained wrapped around your waist, steadying you while he permitted you to control the pace, allowing you to decide how quickly or slowly you moved.

You started slow, achingly slow, but quickly built the pace up, listening for his words of approval which became motivation to keep going. He may have been a killer, but he was a killer you wanted to please.

The sound of approaching footsteps drew your attention, and you reluctantly opened your eyes. The same human whose throat he'd licked earlier had wandered over, wearing a hopeful smile as she started to slide into the booth beside him and reach for his bicep.

Before she could touch him, Yunho turned his head and let out a low, warning hiss.

You both froze at the unfamiliar sound, but then the woman let out a startled squeal before scrambling away into the crowd without another glance.

When Yunho turned back to you, the hardness in his expression had softened ever so slightly as his eyes searched your frightened face. For the briefest moment, you wondered if maybe he wasn't as terrifying as you'd convinced yourself he was.

The thought vanished the instant he hooked his fingers beneath the straps of your dress and plucked them down until the fabric pooled around your waist.

Your breath caught. Before, everyone could only assume what was happening inside the booth. Now he'd left you completely exposed.

"Yunho, I need clothes," you protested, instinctively trying to cover yourself.

"No," he replied with an unyielding smirk, catching your wrists before you could hide yourself from him. "I've lived for a hundred and seventy-six years, and you're the most beautiful human I've ever laid eyes on." His gaze lingered on you with shameless admiration. "If I want to watch your tits bounce while fucking me, I think that's a privilege I've earned."

"But..."

"Go on bunny. Hop," he teased as he thrust up and into you, earning a sharp whine.

You caught his shoulders for support and forced your aching legs to keep moving. Your thighs burned with exertion, and your throat had grown raw from the countless moans and breathless cries of his name. Even though he filled you more deeply than anyone ever had before, it wasn't the sensation of his cock drawing you closer and closer to the edge.

It was the anticipation of his bite.

His fingertips had already settled over the place he'd chosen on your neck, lazily tracing your pulse as though committing it to memory. Every gentle caress made your cunt throb around him, made you desperate to be used in the ways you'd heard about.

You tilted your head further, giving him more room and hoping he'd take the hint. Yunho noticed, but merely pressed his thumb deeper into your throat. "Beg."

Yunho's gaze drifted from your helpless face to the unsteady rise and fall of your chest before returning to your eyes, a frustratingly controlled smile playing at the corners of his lips.

In a raspy voice barely above a whisper, you managed to say, "Bite me."

"Was that a request," he taunted, "or a plea, bunny?" His thumb traced your pulse once more as he spoke. "Because if you remember, I told you to beg."

A quiet whimper escaped your lips. The desperation clawing at your chest embarrassed you almost as much as the realization that you wanted to give in.

His grip tightened just enough to draw you closer until your chest was pressed flush against his. He kissed slowly up the length of your neck, each lingering drag coaxing another shaky moan from your lips before he finally reached your ear.

"Beg, bunny," he urged, his voice barely a whisper; his words cool against your skin. "I know you can."

Your heart twisted painfully in your chest as your fingers slipped into his hair, holding him against the very spot you'd silently offered to him.

"Please, Yunho," you whispered, your voice breaking. "Please... bite me."

"What was that? I couldn't hear you over the music," he teased.

You grunted in frustration, and he spanked you for your defiance. With a yelp, you squeezed him closer until you were nearly swallowing his ear. "Bite me. Please, Yunho."

"I'd love to," he began, as you eagerly tilted your head more for him. "But I'm just not sure you want it badly enough."

You could've cried from how desperate you were. In fact, you did cry. Tears began to steam down your cheeks as you pleaded with him to give you the pleasure you'd earned...the pleasure he'd promised. "Yunho, please. Please you promised to bite me. Please bite me."

"Good bunny," he praised as he kissed your pulse point.

You drew in a sharp breath, instinctively bracing yourself as his lips pressed to you. The instant his fangs pierced your skin, a startled gasp tore from your lips, your fingers tightening around him as the unfamiliar sting stole the air from your lungs.

You could feel your pulse quicken beneath his lips, each heartbeat sending fresh warmth toward the wound as though your body had willingly surrendered itself to him. Soft, satisfied hums vibrated against your skin while he drank, the sound sending an unexpected shiver down your spine.

You weren't afraid anymore.

Instead, you wrapped your arms around him and held him as close as you could, silently urging him not to stop...not yet...not ever. If he wanted more, he could have it. In that moment, you would have given him every last drop.

It wasn't anything like the stories you'd read. The bite hurt like hell, yet the growing lightness spreading through your body left you strangely detached from the pain. As your thoughts blurred and you surrendered yourself to him, an intoxicating emptiness settled over your mind, making you crave the moment to last just a little longer.

Yunho began rolling his hips against yours, and you immediately realized that everything had changed. Every movement felt heightened, every brush of his length inside you sent a sharper sensation through your body. A breathless whine escaped your lips as your arms tightened around him, your body instinctively falling into the slow rhythm he set.

The orgasmic peak was unlike anything you'd ever experienced. It didn't hit all at once the way it usually did; rather, you were edged into a high that seemed to never end. You spilled onto Yunho and kept spilling over and over again. Your laps were soaked, and still, he continued to suck.

He sucked until you were breathless, until the music faded and the partygoers disappeared one by one. He sucked until you were limp in his arms, your body capable of little more than trembling with each lingering wave that rolled through you. He sucked until the bartender tapped his shoulder, and only then did he finally raise his gaze to find the room behind you completely empty.

Only then did he finally stop drinking.

He pressed a lingering kiss to the twin marks on your neck before trailing gentle kisses along your jaw until they found your lips. He tasted faintly of blood, and somehow he felt warmer than he had before... or perhaps it was you who had grown cold.

You kissed him back for as long as you could, but the little strength you had left quickly abandoned you. Your body gave in, and you slumped against his shoulder, too drained to hold yourself upright.

"I'm tired," you mumbled through a yawn as your arms slipped around his neck, instinctively seeking the comfort of his embrace.

Yunho's entire body went rigid, as though he'd never expected you to cling to him so willingly. The surprise lingered for only a moment before he relaxed, wrapping an arm securely around you as he rose to his feet. Your legs remained wrapped around his waist, and without another thought, you kissed his neck.

"Where are we going?" you murmured, your eyes never opening. You weren't sure you even cared where he was taking you, but the question escaped on impulse.

A quiet chuckle rumbled in his chest. "I nearly drank you dry because you tasted so good, bunny," he confessed, adjusting you higher against him. "Did you really think I was just going to let my perfect prey walk away?"

"You... you're keeping me?" you asked sleepily, more curious than frightened.

He nuzzled against your bite mark, kissing it gently before answering, "I have no intention of biting and releasing you, bunny. You're mine now."

“Yours?” you echoed, the idea sounding strange on your tongue.

“Mhm,” he hummed with a kiss to your temple as he lulled you to sleep.

“Another one for the collection, boss?” a familiar voice called as they held open the door for Yunho, though you were sure he could’ve gotten it himself.

san was absolutely starving when he got home from work. and no, it wasn’t the “babe please cook something up for me” kind of starving. he was hungry for you. this happened very often, especially when work had taken a toll on him. all he wanted to do was be around you and stay close to you as soon as he got home.

and this time, you were the only thing on his menu.

which brought you to the present. you sank perfectly into your soft mattress, and your sheets weren’t the only thing wrapped around you. there you were—passionately making out with san. he threw his shirt across the room as soon as he saw you, now surrounding you with his embrace. his muscular, defined body was fully on display, yours to admire. your hands roamed across his back, so small compared to the massive beauty of his body.

“my princess” he spoke softly, tucking away some of the hair that had gotten in your face behind your ear. "i've been waiting for this all day"

so did you. you hated when san had to work more hours. you hated being away from him for so long, to the point where all that pent-up desire came crashing down the moment he stepped through the door.

you bit on his lip, softly, but enough to let out his sweet noises that were dear to your ears.

"why do you have to work for such a long time, hmm..? always so far from me" you pulled away from his face enough for you to make eye contact with him.

"you know i have no control over that baby" he said as he placed soft kisses around your mouth.

"but now that i'm here with you, i can make it up for you"

oh you loved the sound of that. you knew exactly where this was headed. your body clearly knew as well—you were already wet from the aggressive make-out session. and it almost seemed as if he kept turning the faucet more and more with his words.

"is that so?" you smirked, moving your body a bit away from his, enough for you to start sliding off the sweats you had on.

he stared intently at you. you could have sworn he wasn't even blinking.

"fuck, you're beautiful baby" you felt his hands land on yours, helping you pull down your sweats even faster. he swiftly brought them back up and took your shirt off as well. "mm.. i could stare at you for hours"

san wasted no time in taking off the rest of his clothes. not even a minute later, he was only left with his boxers on. the outline of his hardened cock begging to break free from its confinement made your mouth water.

"san.." you looked into his eyes with absolute need. "i wanna feel you. your touch. i wanna feel you deep inside of me" your hand slid up his body once more, moving from his chest to his pecs. "i thought about it all day, and now you're here"

"i know, i know my love" he said, "patience. i still need to grab a condom real quick"

you made a funny frown face at him, "and what if i want your cum deep inside me too?"

he was already moving towards the drawer on the side of your bed when his eyes widened. he immediately turned around facing you, "don't fucking say things like that. do you want me to go insane !?"

"yeah. i do."

his eyebrows furrowed, and his eyes shot back at the drawer—now relentlessly looking for a condom.

"um.. babe? are you sure we still have any? it feels like i've searched everywhere inside of this thing and i can't find any."

you lifted yourself up a bit, now sitting up and looking at him with a confused expression on your face. "what? there's no way we fuck that much. i could've sworn we just bought a pack"

yeah.. sure.. the hearts on almost every day of the month showing on your flo app says otherwise.

he turned around and pouted at you, "i don't think there is any in here baby. i think we ran out"

"well.. i-"

"you didn't actually think that was going to stop me from making you feel good, right?"

oh oh oh and there he goes. he's back to his favorite spot— being on top of you.

he traced swirls all around your body with his fingertips, leading his hands in between your legs. he spread them open, making room for him to place himself in. the next thing you knew, his clothed erection was sitting directly on your neglected clit. you felt your entire body get hotter by the second, your pussy throbbing around nothing.

"use me baby. grind yourself on me, make yourself feel good. "

his words sent a jolt straight through your body, making your hips buck against him instinctively. the sudden friction you felt against your pussy was delicious torture, and you couldn't help but moan out his name as he pressed his hard clothed length against you.

"there we go, look at you. you're already so wet" san growled, his voice dropping down to that specific tone that could drive you insane. "it won't be too long until i feel you soaking right through these boxers"

he began to move his hips in slow, deliberate circles, grinding against you with just enough pressure to drive you wild without giving you the satisfaction you craved. his cock dragged along your clit with precise movements, sending sparks of pleasure through your body.

"shit," he breathed against your neck, sending shivers down your spine. "i could just slide into you right now baby.. hmm? no condom, no nothing." he said, grinding right on your sweet spot. "just raw, deep inside that pretty pussy of yours."

your eyes widened in shock, arousal coursing through you. you wanted to say something back, but you couldn't even open your mouth without a needy moan coming out. you suddenly arched your back as you felt him pick up his pace slightly.

"i know baby, sucks really," he chuckled, moving down to nip at your earlobe. "but we can't. not without protection. doesn't mean i can't imagine it though." he bit down even harder. "imagining filling you up with my cum until it's dripping out of you..."

"san- more.. please.." you pulled him closer, trying to create a stronger friction between the two of you. the feeling of his hard-on rubbing against your throbbing wet cunt made your eyes shut and roll back. "y-you feel so fucking good right now. i just can't stop thinking about how amazing you'd feel inside of me"

his hip stuttered in the middle of himself grinding when he heard you. if there was one thing about san, it would be how much he loved it when you talked dirty to him. well, if he were to be honest, he'd say that he has a love-hate relationship with it. he loves when you moan out filthy words as he pounds into you, but he hates how quickly they drive him off the edge and make him cum.

"babe if you keep saying- things like t-that.. " his thrusts became quicker, and the friction became hotter in between your legs. "fuck. i could cum in my fucking boxers"

his body pulled itself even closer to you, and of course, you welcomed him straight in. your arms scattered all over his back once more, pulling him in as much as you could. you wanted that release. you were dying for it. even if he couldn't give himself to you entirely at the moment, you wanted everything, anything from him.

your hips bucked upwards, grinding your clothed clit onto his erection. a burning pleasurable sensation started developing in your lower abdomen, indicating that your climax was close.

"san- baby- i want you to fill me up so badly" you begged as your want for pleasure built a peak that you could no longer bear. "fuck condoms. i want to feel your cum dripping out of me for days" you were so close to slipping his boxers off when—

his eyes widened in shock at your words, his hips suddenly stilling. "holy shit-" he groaned, his body tensing above you.

you felt a sudden warmth spreading through the fabric of his boxers as he collapsed against you, burying his face in the side of your neck. "f-fuck. i'm sorry, i- i didn't mean to- not yet. shit," he panted, his body trembling slightly from the aftermath of his climax.

you could feel the wetness soaking through his boxers onto your panties as his cock twitched against you.

but despite having just cum, he didn't pull away. instead, he began grinding against you again, his movements slower but more deliberate this time. his sensitive sticky tip rubbed against your clit, each movement making him hiss with a painful yet pleasurable feeling.

"oh san, you don't have-" you started, but he cut you off with a kiss.

"no baby, i'm not stopping until you cum too."

his determination sent another wave of arousal through your body. the thought of him pushing through his very own sensitivity just for your pleasure was intoxicating. you wrapped your legs around his waist, making his movements focus more on your clit.

"o-oh! right there," you gasped as he hit just the right spot. "don't stop, please don't stop."

his movements grew more desperate as he chased your orgasm, the damp fabric of his boxers slid more smoothly against your panties with every grind. the combination of his dirty words from earlier, the sight of him losing control, and the persistent stimulation of your oversensitive clit finally pushed you over the edge.

"mmm there she is," san brought himself up to look at you one more time before you came, and boy did you look heavenly to his eyes. it was written all over your face; you were so close to your climax.

your back arched off the bed as waves of pleasure crashed over you, your panties growing soaked with your own arousal. san continued to grind against you through your orgasm, prolonging the sensation until you were a trembling mess beneath him.

san hovered over your limp body and moved to your side, breathing heavily as he tried to catch his breath.

He chuckled. “I’ve had four hundred years of practice.” She scoffed at him, biting her lip to keep from smiling. “Show off.” He grinned. “A little.” Y/N zipped her bag closed before looking toward the leather suitcase resting beside the bed. “I still can’t believe I’m actually doing this.” Yunho walked over, grabbing her bag end sitting it beside his own. “What?” She gestured toward the luggage. “Going on vacation.” He walked over, stopping beside her, his grin never faltering. “Our honeymoon.” A smile spread across her own face. It was insane. 6 days ago… she didn’t know him. Thought hell was a torture chamber used to scare people into being good. Now…. now she was married to the Devil’s son and living in Hell. Insane was an understatement. “Our honeymoon.” She looked toward the wardrobe, then back at him with an expression that was equal parts reluctant and amused. “Fine.” He raised an eyebrow. “Fine?”

She pointed at him. “I’m saying this once.”

“I’ll cherish it forever.”

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She sighed. “I’ll let you take me shopping.” Yunho smirked. “I knew you’d come around.” Y/N rolled her eyes with a small smile. “Don’t get cocky.”

“I wasn’t going to.”

“You absolutely were.”

“Maybe a little.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “I still think buying an entire wardrobe is ridiculous.” Yunho shrugged like it was no big deal. “We’re not buying an entire wardrobe.” She looked up at him as he stared down at her. “We’re not?”

“We’re buying…” He pretended to think. “most of one.” She groaned. “You are impossible.” He smiled, teeth on display as his hand moved to grab her chin, tilting her head back more, leaning his own down. “So I’ve been told.” He kissed her like it was the most natural thing for him now. Then a knock sounded at the chamber doors making them pull apart. Yunho opened the doors and several palace servants waited outside, bowing respectfully before collecting their packed bags. “We’ll have your luggage delivered to the elevator, Your Highness.” Yunho nodded. “Thank you.” Y/N watched them effortlessly lift cases that looked far heavier than they should have been. “I could’ve carried those.”

“I know.”

“They didn’t even let me try.”

“They would’ve been horrified.”

“Why?”

Yunho smiled. “You’re royalty now.” She made a face. “I still hate hearing that.”

“You’ll survive.”

“I’ll complain first.”

“I expected nothing less.” Together they stepped into the corridor, following the servants through the palace toward the massive obsidian elevator that connected Hell to the world above. The towering doors were already open and waiting beside them stood Lucifer. He was dressed far less formally than usual, his black suit immaculate despite the lack of any court gathering, a long crimson overcoat draped over his shoulders. His horns caught the light as he looked from his son to Y/N with quiet satisfaction. “So.” His gaze settled on their luggage disappearing into the elevator. “You actually packed.”

Y/N smiled. “I tried.”

Lucifer looked toward Yunho. “And?” Yunho answered without hesitation. “She agreed to let me take her shopping.” Lucifer nodded approvingly. “Excellent.” Y/N crossed her arms. “I feel like everyone is celebrating this except me.”

“They are,” Lucifer replied. “It is a victory.” Y/N couldn’t help laughing as her father in law reached into the inside pocket of his coat before producing an elegant black envelope sealed with crimson wax. “I’ve already made arrangements.” Yunho accepted it, glancing over it. “You didn’t have to.” Lucifer’s expression softened just enough to betray the affection beneath his usual regal composure. “I know. But I’d like my son and daughter in law to have a proper honeymoon.” Y/N looked at him curiously. “Arrangements?”

“A villa.” He spoke as though mentioning the weather. “On Kefalonia.” Her eyes widened. “Seriously?” He nodded. “The western coast. It’s private. Overlooking the Ionian Sea. The staff have already been instructed to leave you alone unless requested.” Y/N looked from Lucifer to Yunho. “Your dad just casually bought us a villa?” Lucifer gave a small shrug. “I didn’t buy it. I’ve owned it since 1724.” Y/N let out a disbelieving laugh. “Of course you have.” A faint smile tugged at his mouth. “The elevator has already been recalibrated.” Lucifer gestured toward the enormous iron doors. “It will take you directly to Athens.”

Yunho nodded, already suspecting where. “Keres?” His father smiled. “She’s waiting for you.”

Y/N frowned. “Who’s Keres?”

“A demoness.” Lucifer folded his hands behind his back. “An old friend of the family. She oversees several of our… earthly arrangements throughout Greece.” Yunho looked at Y/N. “She’ll meet us when we arrive.”

“And then?”

Lucifer answered for him. “Then she’ll make sure the two of you reach Kefalonia without attracting unnecessary attention.” He looked between them one last time. “And after that…” A rare warmth entered his voice. “forget Hell exists for a few days.” Yunho smiled. “I’ll try.” Lucifer’s eyes shifted toward Y/N. “See the beaches your grandmother loved.” The words caught her by surprise. “How do you know about that?”

Lucifer stared at her like it was obvious. “I’m the devil I know everything.” His expression remained composed, but there was genuine kindness beneath it. “I hope they live up to her stories.” Y/N smiled softly. “So do I.” The elevator doors rumbled open wider, revealing the softly glowing infernal runes within. The servants were quick in placing their bags as Lucifer stepped aside, gesturing toward the waiting carriage. “Go. And for once…” He looked at his son with a faintly amused smile. “don’t think like the Prince of Hell.” His gaze drifted to both of them. “Think like newlyweds.”

The massive iron doors groaned shut behind them with a deep, resonant clang that echoed through the shaft. For a brief moment nothing happened. Then ancient infernal runes carved into the walls flared a brilliant crimson, one after another, until the entire elevator hummed with old magic. A gentle vibration rolled beneath their feet before they began ascending, the machinery moving with surprising smoothness despite the impossible distance separating Hell from Earth. Y/N looked around curiously. The elevator was enormous, more like a private railway carriage than anything she’d ever ridden. Black iron latticework framed tall windows, though beyond them there was only darkness streaked occasionally by flashes of glowing red symbols racing past. “Can I ask a question?”

Yunho laughed beneath his breath. “You don’t have to ask me if you can.” She snorted. “Why an elevator?” He furrowed his brows at the question. As if it were out of pocket. “What?” Y/N gestured around them. “I mean… You can disappear into smoke. You literally teleport. So why…” She spun slowly in place. “an elevator?”

The corners of Yunho’s mouth lifted. “I’ve wondered when you’d ask.”

“So?”

He folded his arms comfortably against his chest. “Because once you’re in Hell…” His expression became a little more thoughtful. “you can’t simply leave.” She tilted her head. “What do you mean?” He shook his, moving closer to her. “Hell has boundaries. The city is open. The realms are open. But the barrier between worlds… requires permission.” Y/N looked around again. “So everyone uses this?”

“Every demon returning to Earth.” He nodded toward the runes glowing beneath their feet. “The elevator connects the realms. It goes wherever it’s instructed.”

“Anywhere?”

“Almost.”

“So…” She smiled. “Right now we’re basically…” She searched for the right phrase. “taking the world’s weirdest subway?”

Yunho laughed. “I suppose we are.”

“And we’re really going straight to Athens?”

“We are.”

“No airports?”

“No airports.”

“No passports?”

“I’m a demon.”

“Right.” She smiled to herself. “I think this might actually ruin normal travel for me forever.” He smiled at her. “I had a feeling.” He closed the distance between them, one arm slipping securely around her waist. “You know…” His voice was quieter now. “I’m glad you agreed to Greece.” She smiled. “I don’t think it took much convincing.” The small gap of distance between them slowly disappeared as he leaned down just enough for his forehead to rest lightly against hers, his glamour suddenly falling over him and his horns disappearing. “I’ve never actually taken a honeymoon before.” She laughed. “I would’ve been concerned if you had.” A quiet chuckle escaped him as well. “Fair point.” He lifted one hand to gently cradle her cheek before closing the last inch between them, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to her lips. It wasn’t rushed. There was no urgency. Just quiet affection.The kind of kiss that made the rest of the world seem very far away until the elevator’s glowing runes surrounding them shifted from crimson to a warm gold and the gentle hum faded.

Yunho glanced toward the doors. “We’re here.”

“Already?”

He nodded. “Welcome…” A shaft of brilliant Mediterranean sunlight spilled through the seams of the elevator doors as they began to open. “to Greece.” Y/N instinctively lifted a hand to shield her eyes. After days in Hell, the warmth of the sun felt almost unreal against her skin. A gentle breeze drifted inside carrying the scent of saltwater, blooming jasmine, and olive trees, replacing the faint trace of smoke that always lingered in Pandemonium. “Wow,” she breathed and Yunho smiled as he watched her instead of the view.

She stepped out first. The estate was breathtaking. White limestone walls gleamed beneath the late morning sun, ivy climbing gracefully across balconies draped with flowering bougainvillea in shades of magenta and violet. Marble columns framed an open courtyard where a fountain poured crystal clear water into a shallow basin surrounded by lemon trees. Beyond the estate, the Acropolis rose proudly over Athens in the distance, ancient against an impossibly blue sky. Y/N slowly turned in a circle. “I think…” She laughed softly. “I’m going to cry.”

“You’d better wait until Kefalonia.”

She looked over at him. “It gets prettier?”

“Oh absolutely.”

The sound of heels clicking across polished stone drew both their attention toward the entrance as a woman emerged from the villa with effortless confidence. She looked no older than her early thirties, though there was something in her eyes that betrayed centuries of experience. Dark hair fell in glossy waves over one shoulder, contrasting sharply against a flowing cream colored dress that caught the breeze. Gold jewelry adorned her wrists and throat without appearing excessive, and when she smiled, it was with the practiced ease of someone accustomed to welcoming kings. She descended the marble steps gracefully. “Prince Yunho.” Her voice carried a warm, melodic accent. “It has been far too long.”

Yunho inclined his head respectfully. “Keres.” She stopped before him, looking him over with a smile that lingered perhaps a second longer than Y/N expected. “My…” Keres sighed dramatically. “What a shame.” Y/N narrowed her eyes at her. “What is?” Keres looked back at Yunho with unmistakable amusement. “The Prince of Hell.” She smiled. “Finally tied down.” Yunho merely shook his head. “So I’ve heard.” Keres laughed softly. “I imagine half the unmarried women in Hell are still grieving.”

Y/N glanced sideways toward her husband. He looked entirely unfazed. Almost… used to conversations like this. Keres finally turned toward Y/N, her expression softening into genuine warmth. “So.” She extended a graceful hand. “You must be the woman who accomplished what no one else could.” Y/N accepted the handshake. “I… guess so.”

“I’m Keres. I oversee several of Lucifer’s interests throughout Greece.” She smiled politely. “It’s nice to meet you.”

“And you.” For just a moment, Y/N noticed the way Keres looked at Yunho again. Not flirtatiously. Not overtly. Just… a little too comfortably. Like someone who had known him for a very long time in more than one. It wasn’t enough to make a scene over. But it was enough to make a tiny voice in the back of Y/N’s mind quietly wonder but she kept that thought entirely to herself. For now.

Keres clapped her hands lightly. “Come. There will be plenty of time to admire the view.” She gestured toward the villa. “I’ve had rooms prepared.” Yunho glanced toward the waiting luggage. “I appreciate you doing this.”

“It was hardly an inconvenience.” Keres smiled. “Lucifer contacted me days ago.”

Y/N frowned slightly. “Days ago?” They had only decided yesterday. “The moment the binding was witnessed.” Keres answered as though it were the most natural thing in the world. “He wanted everything ready before you arrived.” Y/N couldn’t help smiling. “He really does know and plan everything.”

“He does.” Keres laughed. “It can be exhausting.” She began leading them through the open courtyard toward the villa. “I’m afraid you’ll be staying here tonight.” Y/N looked up. “Just tonight?”

“Kefalonia is best reached tomorrow morning.” Keres nodded toward the horizon. “The ferry leaves after sunrise. The villa Lucifer arranged will be waiting when you arrive.” She smiled over one shoulder. “So today… you rest. No royal duties. No infernal politics.” Yunho chuckled and Y/N noticed another one of those easy, familiar exchanges between them. Again… Nothing inappropriate. Just the quiet familiarity of two immortals who clearly had a long history. Keres led them through the estate at an unhurried pace, sunlight spilling across polished marble floors through towering arched windows that overlooked the sea. Every room seemed to open into another courtyard, another terrace, another breathtaking view of olive groves stretching toward the glittering blue horizon.

“I’ve had the east wing prepared,” she said as they climbed a sweeping staircase. “It’s the quietest part of the estate.” Y/N looked out one of the windows as they walked. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen water that blue.” Keres smiled knowingly. “Wait until tomorrow. If today impresses you…” She gestured toward the endless sea beyond Athens. “Kefalonia will ruin every beach after it.” They stopped before a pair of tall white doors carved with intricate vines and laurel leaves. Two staff members quietly carried their luggage inside before setting everything neatly beside an enormous bed draped in white linen. Another disappeared onto the balcony to open the shutters, allowing warm ocean air to drift through the room.

Within moments, the staff bowed and departed, leaving only the three of them. Keres lingered. She looked around the room once, seemingly satisfied, before her attention settled on Yunho. “Well.” A small smile crossed her lips. “I’ll leave you two to enjoy yourselves.” Yunho inclined his head. “Thank you.” She stepped closer. Close enough that the familiarity between them became impossible to ignore. “I’m glad to see you’re well.” For the briefest moment, something unspoken passed between them. “Try not to spend your entire honeymoon worrying about Hell.”

“I’ll do my best.”

“I know you will.” Keres reached out, briefly straightening the collar of his shirt with an almost absent familiarity before letting her hand fall away. “I’ll have dinner prepared for this evening.” With one last nod toward Y/N, she turned gracefully and disappeared into the corridor, the doors clicking softly shut behind her. Silence settled over the room as the ocean breeze stirred the curtains. Yunho walked toward one of the suitcases, already reaching to unzip it. He didn’t notice Y/N hadn’t moved. She remained standing exactly where Keres had left her. Watching him. He glanced over after a few seconds. “What?”

She didn’t answer. Instead, she folded her arms and her gaze narrowed ever so slightly. Yunho recognized that look. He just didn’t know why. “What?” She took a slow breath. “So….. you used to fuck her.” The room went completely still. Yunho froze halfway through opening the suitcase. “That was direct.” Y/N shrugged. “I figured I’d save us both five minutes.” His expression shifted into one somewhere between surprised and amused. “You’re jealous.”

“I didn’t say I was.”

“You didn’t have to.”

“I asked a question.”

“You made a statement.”

She sighed dramatically. “Fine.” She looked out toward the sea for a moment before looking back at him. “I know we’ve barely known each other a week. I know that’s ridiculous. I know you lived for four hundred years before I showed up.” She laughed once, though there wasn’t much humor in it. “But…” Her fingers absently brushed against the horn on her wrist. “it kind of hit me just now though….” Yunho just listened to her quietly. “You’re my husband.” She hesitated a little. “And I…” She shook her head. “didn’t like the way she looked at you.”

Yunho couldn’t help the smile tugging at the corner of his mouth and she immediately pointed at him. “Don’t.”

“What?”

“Don’t smile.”

“I can’t help it.”

“You absolutely can.”

“I really can’t.”

She groaned. “I’m trying to have a serious conversation.”

“I know.”

“And you’re smiling.”

“Because…” He closed the suitcase again before walking toward her. “you’re jealous.” She rolled her eyes. “I hate that you’re enjoying this.” He stopped in front of her. “I’m enjoying the fact that you care.” She had to tilt her head back slightly to pout at him in annoyance. “You asked.”

“I did.”

“So…” She raised an eyebrow. “Answer.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “Yes.” She didn’t like that answer at all. She scoffed. “Seriously?”

“We were together.” His honesty came without hesitation. “It was a long time ago.”

“How long?”

He thought for a moment. “About eighty years.” Her eyes widened. “Eighty years ago?”

“I’m four hundred.”

“I know, but hearing it out loud is still weird.”

A quiet laugh escaped him. “It wasn’t serious. It lasted a little while. And then…” He shrugged lightly. “it ended.”

“No drama?”

“No.”

“No broken hearts?”

“No. We simply realized we were better as acquaintances.”

She studied his face, looking for any hint that he was hiding something but found none. “And now?”

“Now she’s just a friend.” He smiled softly. “And you’re my wife.” His hand found hers. “There isn’t anything left to wonder about.” Y/N looked down at their joined hands. The jealousy hadn’t disappeared entirely. But it had softened. “I still didn’t like her fixing your collar.” Yunho laughed. “I noticed.”

“I’m serious.”

“I know.” He leaned down and pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead. “I’ll fix it myself next time.” That earned the smallest smile. “Good.” She kissed, hungry and claiming before Yunho pulled back. “And for the record…”

“Hm?”

“You looked at her the exact same way.”

Y/N blinked, furrowing her brows. “I did?”

“You were evaluating her.” He smiled teasingly. “Guess I’m not the only possessive asshole.”

She sighed as he threw her words from yesterday back at her. “Apparently we’re both a little hopeless.”

“A little?”

She nudged him lightly in the chest. “Don’t push your luck, Prince.” Yunho recognized that expression. The one where her lips had stopped pouting but her eyes were still quietly accusing him of crimes committed decades before they’d even met. Before she was even born. He’d seen it for exactly three minutes. And already knew it wasn’t disappearing anytime soon. Very carefully… he decided retreat was the wiser strategy. “So…” He cleared his throat with exaggerated innocence. “since we’re stuck in Athens until tomorrow…” Y/N narrowed her eyes immediately. “You’re changing the subject.”

“I am.”

“You admit it?”

He smiled. “I know when a battle can’t be won.” Despite herself, the corner of Y/N’s mouth twitched. “Coward.” Yunho kissed her again, lips lingering against her own. “May I make a suggestion?”

“I’m listening.”

“How about…” He looked toward the open balcony where bright Greek sunlight poured into the room. “since we’re stuck in Athens for today…” His smile returned. “we take that shopping trip. And get that ice cream. I’ve heard Athens has excellent gelato.”

“It’s Greece.”

“I stand corrected.” He walked backward toward the bedroom door. “So…” He spread his arms dramatically. “what do you say?” She watched him for a long moment. Then looked down at herself. “You really think I need more clothes?”

“I think…” His gaze traveled over her for just a second before returning to her face. “you’d look beautiful wearing absolutely anything.” Then he smirked. “Especially nothing at all.” The compliment came so naturally that it took her completely off guard. There wasn’t an ounce of teasing behind it. Just simple certainty.

Her cheeks warmed. “That was smooth.”

“It wasn’t meant to be.”

“No?”

He shook his head. “I meant it.” The room grew quiet again as she looked away first, suddenly finding the white marble floor very interesting. “You’re making it difficult to stay jealous.”

“I was hoping.”

A small laugh escaped her. “You’re annoyingly good at this.”

“I’ve had practice.”

She looked back up. “Bad answer.” Yunho winced. “Right.”

“Very bad answer.”

“I walked into that one.”

“You sprinted.”

He laughed, rubbing the back of his neck as she walked over, reaching up and absentmindedly straightened the same collar Keres had touched earlier. “There.” She smoothed it once. “Better.” Yunho looked down at her hand then back at her. “Feel better?”

“A little. But we still have the rest of the day.”

“You know…”

“Hm?”

“I much prefer it when you’re the one fixing my clothes.”

Her eyes met his. “As you should.” She gave the collar one last unnecessary adjustment before taking his hand. “Now…” She intertwined their fingers. “take me shopping before I change my mind.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Athens was everything Y/N had imagined as a little girl. And somehow… Even more. The narrow stone streets wound between whitewashed buildings draped in overflowing flower boxes, little cafés spilling onto sidewalks beneath striped awnings while the distant sound of live bouzouki music floated lazily through the afternoon air. Warm sunlight kissed her skin, a welcome contrast to Hell’s eternal crimson twilight, and every few steps she found herself stopping simply to stare. “I don’t know where to look first,” she admitted, turning another slow circle in the middle of the square.

Yunho laughed, catching her hand before she wandered directly into a passing scooter. “Maybe not the traffic.” She grinned sheepishly. “Right.” Keres had pointed them toward one of Athens’ oldest gelato shops before sending them on their way, insisting, “You cannot shop on an empty stomach.” Now they stood outside with matching cups in hand.

Y/N eyed hers suspiciously. “So this is pistachio?”

“The owner insisted.”

“He also looked offended when I asked for chocolate.”

“He takes gelato very seriously.”

She scooped up a generous bite and the spoon barely touched her tongue before her eyes widened. “Oh my God.” Yunho smiled. “Told you.” She took another bite and a soft, involuntary moan escaped her as she closed her eyes. “Okay.” She laughed. “I get it now. This is incredible.” She took another bite with another moan of satisfaction leaving her. She hadn’t noticed Yunho moving closer until his hand settled lightly against the small of her back. He leaned down, lips brushing just beside her ear as he lowered his voice enough that only she could hear. “You keep moaning like that…” The warmth of his breath sent a shiver up her spine. “Public or not…” His smile was audible in every word. “I might have to eat you instead of the gelato.”

Y/N nearly dropped her spoon. She turned to stare at him, mouth hanging open in complete disbelief. “Yunho!” His expression remained infuriatingly innocent. “What?”

“You absolutely did not just say that.”

“I think I did.”

She felt warmth rush straight to her cheeks. Part embarrassment. Part amusement. And, much to her annoyance, heat curled low in her stomach. Because now she was horny. She pointed the tiny gelato spoon at him accusingly. “We are in public.”

“We are.”

“There are people.”

“There are.”

“They definitely heard me gasp.”

“They probably assumed the gelato was that good.”

She let out a helpless laugh, shaking her head. “I can’t stand you.”

“I’ve heard that before.”

She looked him up and down with exaggerated consideration before taking another deliberately slow bite of her gelato. “Not until after you spoil me with new clothes.” Yunho’s eyebrows lifted, eyes lighting up. “Oh?” She smiled sweetly. “If you want to taste me…” She gestured toward the elegant boutiques lining the street. “you have to earn it.” A grin spread slowly across his face. “So shopping first, huh.”

“Shopping first.”

He laughed. “I married someone dangerous.” She looped her arm through his as they started walking again. “You married someone with priorities.”

“I can see that.”

She took one last bite, humming happily. “And apparently I married someone who flirts like he’s trying to get us kicked out of Greece.” Yunho smiled without a trace of shame. “So far…” He squeezed her hand gently. “it seems to be working.” She rolled her eyes, unable to stop smiling as they disappeared together into the bustling streets, sunlight warming their shoulders while Athens unfolded around them like the beginning of a dream she’d been waiting twelve years to live.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

They made it back to the estate after about three hours of shopping. And the moment the door to their room shut behind them, Yunho had Y/N pinned against the nearest wall, his mouth hot and demanding on hers. Clothes came off in a frantic rush until he dropped to his knees, spread her thighs, and buried his face between them. He licked and sucked at her pussy until she came hard on his tongue, thighs shaking around his head. Him moaning about how she definitely tasted better than the gelato.

Now they were on the wide couch in the main room. Y/N sat reverse in his lap, her back pressed to his chest, legs hooked wide over his own spread thighs. His dick was buried deep inside her, thick and unmoving, stretching her walls and letting them clench around, not thrusting, but simply holding her open and rubbing slow, firm circles over her swollen, aching, clit with two fingers. Y/N’s breath hitched. Every tiny clench of her pussy around his him sent sparks through her. She could feel every ridge and vein of him inside her, the way he pulsed without moving. Her hips twitched, trying to grind, but his free hand kept her thigh pinned wide.

“Stay still,” he murmured against her ear. “Let me feel you.” She whimpered. The pressure on her clit was relentless, steady, building her up again. Her first two orgasms from his mouth still lingered, leaving her sensitive. The third one crept closer and faster. Her inner walls fluttered and squeezed around his dick, milking him without any thrust making Yunho groan low and growl, the sound vibrating through her back. “That’s it. Squeeze me just like that.” Her climax hit harder than the others. She cried out, body jerking in his hold as her pussy clenched and pulsed around him, juices coating his dick and dripping down as he kept rubbing her clit through it, drawing every aftershock until she was gasping and oversensitive and only then did he move.

Yunho’s hands gripped under her thighs, lifting and spreading her even wider so he could pull her down onto him and start thrusting up into her, hard and deep. Y/N looked down between her legs and sobbed at the sight. His dick disappearing inside her over and over, shiny with her own wetness, stretching her pussy wide. She reached down with one shaking hand and wrapped her fingers around the few inches that wouldn’t fit, stroking him in time with his thrusts.

“Fuck, look at that,” he growled against her back again. “Taking me so well. So fucking wet.” Her juices sloshed audibly with every thrust. She was already on her third orgasm and still sensitive from the previous two. Tears pricked her eyes from the overwhelming pleasure but Yunho didn’t slow down. He fucked up into her relentlessly, the wet sounds filling the room as Y/N’s hand kept stroking the base of his dick, feeling it slide in and out of her grip.

He leaned forward slightly, pressing his chest tighter to her back as one of his hands moved to her clit again while the other kept her thigh spread. Y/N leaned back a little, reaching up behind her and hooking her arm around the back of his neck, fingers finding one of his horns and gripping it tight making Yunho snarl at the contact, hips snapping even harder. “Mine,” he growled into the crook of her neck. “All mine. This pussy, this body….. every fucking inch of you.” He bit down where her neck met her shoulder, sucking hard enough to leave a dark mark. The possessive words and the sharp sting of his teeth pushing her over again.

Y/N screamed as she came, squirting around him, juices spraying out with each thrust, soaking his lap and the couch beneath them. Her whole body shook violently in his arms but still, Yunho didn’t stop. He kept pounding into her, harder, deeper, chasing his own release while she was still coming. Her pussy fluttering around him and clenching, overstimulated and dripping as he buried his face in her neck again, licking and sucking more marks into her skin. “Gonna fill you up,” he rasped. “Breed this tight little pussy. Make sure everyone knows who you belong to.”

His thrusts grew erratic as he kept her held wide open, “again” dick slamming deep with wet, filthy sounds. “and again…” Y/N’s hand stayed wrapped around the base of his dick with one hand while her other kept hold of his horn, feeling every pulse as he finally came. “and again…” His release flooded her pussy, spilling out around his dick and mixing with her own mess. He kept thrusting through it, pushing his release deeper until it leaked down her thighs.

Even after he finished, he stayed buried inside her, breathing hard against her marked neck, hands loosening their grip but not letting go, keeping her spread over his lap while his dick softened slowly inside her cum filled pussy. Y/N trembled in his arms, completely spent, the evidence of what they did dripping steadily onto the couch.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Steam still lingered in the bathroom when Yunho emerged toweling the last traces of water from his silver hair before letting it fall naturally over his forehead. He pulled on a simple black ribbed Henley that hugged his frame without trying, dark board shorts, and a pair of leather sandals that looked effortlessly expensive despite their simplicity. Compared to the tailored suits he usually wore in Hell, the outfit made him look… almost normal. Like any man about to spend the evening wandering a Greek island with his wife instead of the Prince of Hell.

Y/N, meanwhile, stood in front of the open wardrobe wrapped in one of the estate’s plush white robes, absently sorting through the mountain of clothes Yunho had insisted on buying her that afternoon. She picked up one dress and put it back. Picked up another and set it aside. She was very obviously thinking about something and Yunho noticed immediately. “What? I can practically hear you thinking too hard.” She didn’t answer as she continued pretending to organize clothes that were already perfectly folded. “Nothing.”

Yunho started walking towards her, smiling knowingly. “That’s never true.” She sighed with a huff. “I have a question.”

“I figured.”

She glanced over one shoulder. “It’s… kind of embarrassing.”

“I highly doubt it.”

She snorted. Then, without turning around, she asked very matter of factly, “So… is birth control good repellent against your demon semen?” Silence. Complete and utter deafening silence. Yunho simply… stared in bewilderment as Y/N slowly turned to find him looking at her as though she’d just spoken an entirely different language. “What?”

He opened his mouth. Closed it. Opened it again. Closed it again…. “Did you just say…” He pointed vaguely in her direction. “demon semen?” Y/N immediately began talking faster. “It’s just…” She waved both hands. “I’m on birth control. You know… one of the long term ones they don’t have to take out for a few years.” She gestured between the two of them. “But that’s… human. And you’re … not exactly dealing with a normal biological situation.”

Yunho was still staring completely speechless as she rambled.

“So…” She rubbed the back of her neck. “I started wondering if human birth control even works on…” She grimaced. “well… you. And…” She kept going, mostly because the silence was somehow making this worse. “I’ve also noticed…” She looked everywhere except at him. “you kind of have…” She coughed awkwardly. “a bit of a…” Her voice grew quieter. “breeding kink.” Yunho inhaled sharply as she pointed at him. “Don’t even try to deny it.”

“I…”

“You say mine every five minutes.”

“I…”

“You’ve literally said you wanted to fill me up more than once.”

Yunho rubbed a hand over his face. “Y/N.”

“And…” She was on a roll now. “I just think this is a reasonable medical question.” He lowered his hand very, very slowly. “I… did not know this conversation was going to happen.”

“I didn’t either.”

“I was thinking about dinner.”

“I was thinking about reproductive biology.”

“Clearly.”

She finally met his eyes. “So?” He let out a long, resigned sigh that somehow managed to sound both amused and thoroughly defeated. “For the record…” He folded his arms. “I did not have…” He emphasized the next words. “a breeding kink… until you.”

Y/N’s eyebrows shot upward. “Excuse me?”

“I lived for four hundred years. I never once thought about children. Never once thought about any of that.” He pointed directly at her. “Then you came along.” Y/N cleared her throat, heart pounding at his confession as he shrugged helplessly. “So… I’m blaming you.” She laughed so hard she had to grab the edge of a chair to steady herself. “You are unbelievable.” She wiped at the corner of one eye, still smiling. “You still haven’t answered my question though.”

Yunho’s expression softened into one that was much more thoughtful. “No.” She tilted her head. “No?”

“No, human birth control isn’t something demons normally have reason to think about.” He walked over until he was standing beside her. “But…” He smiled crookedly. “that’s probably a conversation we should have with someone who actually knows the answer.”

“You don’t know?”

“I collect souls.” He laughed. “I’m not an infernal gynecologist.” That earned another burst of laughter from her. “Somehow that’s the funniest sentence I’ve heard all week.”

“I sincerely hope I never have to say it again.”

“I make no promises.”

“I was afraid you’d say that.” Y/N folded one of the sundresses she’d bought that before glancing over at him again, the mischievous sparkle in her eyes returning now that she’d successfully recovered from making the Prince of Hell completely speechless. “So…” Yunho looked up from slipping his watch onto his wrist. “What now?” She leaned casually against the chair. “Since you don’t really know how human birth control works…” He already knew from her smile that he wasn’t going to enjoy whatever came next. “Does that mean…” She tilted her head “you’ve got a bunch of little demons running around that you don’t know about?”

For a split second, Yunho simply stared at her speechless again. Then he laughed. Not a polite chuckle but a genuine, surprised laugh that filled the room. “No.” He shook his head, still laughing. “Trust me.” Another laugh escaped him as he ran a hand through his hair. “Absolutely not.”

Y/N grinned wider. “You’re awfully confident about that.”

“Because that’s… not how it works.” He finally caught his breath, smiling as he looked at her. “We can tell if we’ve fathered a child.” He said matter of factly. “A demon knows.”

“Immediately?”

“Not immediately.” He thought for a moment. “But once life takes hold…” He tapped lightly against his own chest. “you feel it.” Y/N’s teasing expression softened into curiosity. “Really?”

“It’s part of our nature.” He shrugged. “It’s difficult to explain. It’s almost…” He searched for the right comparison. “like suddenly becoming aware that a part of yourself exists somewhere else is what my father says anyways.”

She considered that for a moment. “So there’s no possibility of…” She gestured vaguely. “surprise demon children showing up on our doorstep one day?” Yunho laughed again. “No. I’m very certain.” Y/N narrowed her eyes playfully. “You’re not just saying that because your wife is asking?”

“I’m saying it because it’s true.” He walked over until he was standing in front of her. “If I’d ever had a child… I would’ve known.” She studied his face for a long second before nodding. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“I believe you.” Then she smirked again. “I still can’t believe I made the son of Satan completely short circuit by saying demon semen.” Yunho covered his face with one hand and groaned. “I’m never recovering from that phrase.”

Y/N laughed triumphantly. “Good. I hope you think about it every time someone asks you a medical question.” He lowered his hand just enough to look at her. “I married a menace.” She slipped her arms around his waist, looking entirely pleased with herself. “How unfortunate for you. And now you get to live with that decision for eternity.” He looked down at her for a moment before smiling despite himself. “Worth it.”

By the time they were ready to leave their room, the golden light of late afternoon had softened into the warm glow of early evening, bathing the estate in amber. Somewhere outside, cicadas hummed beneath the olive trees while the sea carried a cool breeze through the open balcony doors. Y/N stepped out of the bedroom, adjusting one of the off the shoulder sleeves of the cream lace two piece set she’d picked out. The flowing fabric hugged her waist before cascading into layered ruffles that swayed with every step, the shorter front showing off her legs while the longer train drifted elegantly behind her. Paired with delicate sandals and the gold jewelry Yunho had quietly insisted on buying despite her protests, she looked effortlessly radiant beneath the fading Greek sun.

Yunho looked up from where he’d been waiting near the door and promptly forgot whatever he’d been thinking. His eyes slowly traveled from her sandals…. to the outfit… to her face and exhaled. “You’re trying to kill me.” Y/N smiled, smoothing an imaginary wrinkle from the skirt. “I thought you’d like it.”

“I do.” He crossed the room without another word and she barely had time to laugh before his hands settled comfortably around her waist, pulling her back against his chest. “Yunho…”

“Hm?”

“We’re supposed to be going to dinner.”

“I know.” His nose brushed lightly against the side of her neck. “You smell nice.” She giggled as his lips found the spot just below her ear, lingering there in a series of soft kisses that made her shoulders lift instinctively. “We literally just had sex.”

“I remember.”

“You should be spent.”

“I’m a demon.” He smirked as he kissed at the mark he left on her from the said sex. “You make that sound like a superpower.” Y/N snorted then let out a little moan when he licked his tongue across the spot, soothing at it. “It is.” She laughed, gently trying to peel one of his hands away from her waist. “Behave.”

“I am behaving.”

“This is behaving?”

“I haven’t carried you back to the couch.”

She covered her face with one hand. “You’re insatiable.”

“Only for you.” He kissed her neck one last time before reluctantly letting her turn to face him. She reached up, absentmindedly straightening the collar of his henley. “You’ve gotten clingy.” She teased.

“I’ve always been clingy.”

“You absolutely have not.”

“I simply didn’t have anyone to cling to.”

She rolled her eyes fondly. “That’s annoyingly sweet.” He grinned. “I try.” She slipped her hand into his. “Come on. If we show up late, Keres is going to think we got distracted.” Yunho raised an eyebrow. “We did get distracted.” She bumped his arm with her shoulder. “You know what I mean.” Together they stepped out into the corridor, following the soft glow of lanterns toward the estate’s dining hall. Laughter drifted toward them long before they reached the doors making Yunho frown. “Keres mentioned dinner…” His voice trailed off. “She didn’t mention company.” The carved wooden doors stood open and inside, an impossibly long dining table stretched across the center of the room beneath crystal chandeliers, candles flickering between elaborate arrangements of white flowers and fresh fruit. Demons lounged comfortably in expensive clothing, wine already flowing as conversations overlapped with easy familiarity.

A pair of elegantly dressed succubi laughed together near one end of the table. Several older demons Yunho recognized occupied another section. Then… his expression hardened. “You’ve got to be kidding me.” Y/N followed his gaze. “What?” Near the center of the table sat a broad shouldered demon with dark hair brushed neatly back, dressed in an immaculate charcoal suit despite the warm Greek evening. He lounged in his chair with the confidence of someone who believed every room belonged to him. Darrius was his name and the moment Yunho and Y/N entered, his conversation stopped and his eyes settled immediately on Y/N. Not a polite glance. Not simple curiosity. His gaze lingered with open appraisal, sweeping over her as though he were evaluating something he’d already decided he wanted.

Yunho felt something cold settle in his chest and his hand tightened around Y/N’s. She looked up at him. “Do you know any of them?” His jaw flexed. “Unfortunately.” Darrius’s lips curled into a slow, knowing smile as he lifted his wineglass in a silent greeting. Yunho didn’t acknowledge it. Instead, almost on instinct, he stepped half a pace closer to Y/N, placing himself just enough between her and Darrius that the other demon’s line of sight was broken. Keres, noticing the shift in the room’s atmosphere, rose gracefully from her seat. “There you are.” Her smile remained warm, though her eyes flicked briefly between Yunho and Darrius, reading the tension without anyone saying a word. “I was beginning to wonder if my newlyweds had forgotten about dinner.” Yunho forced a polite smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Something came up.”

“So I gathered,” Keres replied with the faintest hint of amusement before gesturing toward the empty seats she’d reserved beside her. “Come. Sit.” As they approached the table, Darrius leaned back comfortably in his chair, still watching. “Prince Yunho,” he said smoothly. “Congratulations on the marriage.” His gaze shifted back to Y/N. “You certainly married well.” Yunho met his eyes and there wasn’t a trace of a smile left on his face. Y/N felt it before she fully understood it. The atmosphere itself had changed. Yunho’s hand remained comfortably at the small of her back, guiding her without rushing her, but there was an unmistakable confidence in the way he carried himself now.

Keres watched the transformation with quiet amusement, taking another sip of her wine. She’d seen this version of him countless times over the centuries. They reached the empty chairs Keres had reserved beside her and instead of immediately sitting, Yunho rested one hand lightly against the back of Y/N’s chair, his gaze sweeping across the table. Several of the demons inclined their heads respectfully. A few lowered their eyes altogether. Only Darrius continued smiling. And Yunho’s voice, when it came, wasn’t loud. It didn’t need to be. “I believe introductions are in order.” Every conversation stopped completely as he looked toward Y/N, and for just the briefest instant, warmth returned to his expression. “This…” His hand settled gently against the middle of her back. “is my wife. The Princess of Hell.” There wasn’t a hint of arrogance in the declaration. Only certainty.

The title carried through the room with surprising weight. Several demons who had merely nodded before now straightened in their seats. One of the succubi offered Y/N a respectful incline of her head. Even older demons acknowledged the title without question. Y/N felt herself blink. Princess of Hell. She’d heard the words multiple times already. But somehow… hearing Yunho say them like that…… made her finally like the sound of it. He pulled her chair out for her and let her sit. Only after making certain she was comfortable did he himself take the seat beside her. He didn’t look at Darrius once. Yet somehow… he still knew exactly where the older demon’s eyes were. Yunho reached for his wineglass with effortless calm and without turning his head. Without raising his voice. “Keep staring at her like that, Darrius…” He took an unhurried sip of his wine. “and I’ll rip your tongue out.”

The threat landed with the same casual certainty as someone commenting on tomorrow’s weather. No anger. No theatrics. Just fact. Y/N’s eyes widened slightly as Darrius leaned back in his chair. Then… to Y/N’s complete surprise… he laughed like he was delighted by the threat. “There he is.” His eyes gleamed with genuine excitement. “I was beginning to think marriage had made you soft.” Several demons shifted uncomfortably as Keres sighed into her wine. “Oh, don’t encourage him.” Darrius ignored her entirely. His attention remained fixed on Yunho. “I’ve missed that version of you.” Yunho finally turned his head and their eyes met and the temperature in the room seemed to drop. “If you miss it enough…” Yunho’s expression remained perfectly composed. “keep testing me.” No one moved. No one spoke. Y/N looked between the two demons. Then… she realized something. She should probably be uncomfortable. Maybe even intimidated. Instead… her pulse had quickened. There was something hypnotic about the way Yunho carried himself here.

She'd met the man. She'd fallen into bed with the man. She'd somehow married the man. But sitting beside her now wasn't simply Yunho. It was the Prince of Hell.

The son of Lucifer. And the most alarming part wasn't that it scared her... it was that she couldn't stop watching. He simply… expected to be obeyed. And everyone else seemed to expect it too. What is wrong with me? she wondered, trying very hard not to stare. Why is this… She swallowed…. attractive. The realization caught her so completely off guard she almost laughed at herself as servants appeared almost as if summoned by the tension itself. One by one, they emerged through side doors carrying polished silver trays, moving with practiced silence as they placed course after course before the guests. Freshly baked bread still warm from the oven, grilled sea bass brushed with olive oil and herbs, roasted vegetables, bowls of bright citrus salads, and crystal decanters filled with deep red wine quickly transformed the long table into a feast.

The clink of silverware slowly replaced the silence. Conversation resumed and Y/N noticed something interesting almost immediately. No one addressed Yunho first anymore. Not after the threat. Instead, several demons deliberately chose safer conversations with one another, stealing only the occasional glance toward the Prince of Hell. Yunho, meanwhile, looked perfectly relaxed again as he reached for the bread basket, tore off a piece, and set it onto Y/N’s plate before taking one for himself. “So you don’t forget to eat,” he murmured quietly enough that only she heard and the contrast nearly made her laugh. Five seconds ago he’d calmly threatened to tear someone’s tongue out. Now he was making sure she had bread. “Thank you,” she said softly and he gave the smallest nod before reaching for the wine. Without asking, he refilled her glass first then his own.

Across the table, Darrius watched the entire exchange with open curiosity as he rested his elbows lazily against the table. “So…” His voice carried just enough to draw everyone’s attention again. Y/N looked up and Darrius smiled pleasantly enough. “I’ve known Yunho for centuries.” Yunho didn’t even acknowledge him, calmly cutting into his dinner. “I don’t believe I’ve heard your version.” Y/N tilted her head. “My version?”

“How the two of you met.”

Several heads around the table lifted with obvious interest. Even Keres looked mildly curious as Darrius swirled the wine in his glass. “The Prince of Hell has never exactly been…” He searched for the word. “domestic.” A quiet chuckle rippled through a few of the older demons. “So I’m curious.” His smile widened. “How does someone manage to marry Lucifer’s son?” Y/N glanced sideways toward Yunho who continued eating as though the question hadn’t been asked but he wasn’t stopping her. Nor was he answering for her.

She smiled faintly. “It wasn’t exactly planned.”

“No?”

She shook her head. “I was bartending in Los Angeles. A friend and I finished work late.” She took a sip of wine before continuing. The memory of Tiffany hurting for only a moment. She cleared her throat. “He came into the club.” Darrius looked toward Yunho. “You picked up your wife at a nightclub?” Yunho looked up just enough to answer. “Yes.” Several demons exchanged surprised looks as Y/N laughed. “He flirted. I flirted back. We talked and honestly surprised he listened to anything I said.” She smiled at the memory. “He walked me home afterwards.” Darrius raised an eyebrow. “Just walked you home?” Y/N’s smile became decidedly more mischievous. “No.” A few amused laughs circled the table. Even Keres hid a smile behind her wineglass. “We spent the night together.”

One of the succubi grinned. “Well… I certainly wasn’t expecting honesty.” Y/N shrugged. “It’s not exactly a secret.” She glanced toward Yunho with an amused smile. “He was very convincing.” That finally earned the faintest smirk from Yunho as Darrius leaned back farther in his chair. “And then?” Y/N’s expression softened. “A couple days later… There was an earthquake.” The laughter around the table disappeared. She unconsciously rubbed the horn shaped mark on her wrist. “He saved my life. The binding happened. And…” A small smile returned. “here we are.”

Darrius gave a slow nod. “So.” His gaze drifted from Y/N to Yunho. “The Prince of Hell finally fell because of one human.” Yunho calmly set down his fork and his eyes met Darrius’s without the slightest hint of irritation. “I didn’t fall.” His voice was quiet. “I made a choice.” The distinction hung in the air and no one argued. They simply accepted it. Because when the Prince of Hell declared something as fact, debate rarely followed. Even Darrius’s smile faded for just a moment as Y/N looked at her husband and there it was again. That same composed certainty. No need to defend himself. No need to explain. Just a simple statement that somehow carried more weight than an argument ever could. And, much to her growing frustration… she felt that unexpected flutter in her stomach all over again.

Dinner drifted toward its natural end as empty plates disappeared almost as quietly as they’d arrived. Crystal glasses caught the warm candlelight while conversations splintered into smaller groups around the table. Somewhere near the windows, the two succubi debated mortal fashion trends. Marlo, an older demon, had begun speaking with another noble about trade routes through the Fourth Circle. Even Keres looked more relaxed, believing the worst of the evening’s tension had finally passed as Y/N excused herself with a quiet smile. “I’ll be right back.” Yunho’s hand brushed lightly across hers beneath the table before letting go. “I’ll be here.” She smiled once before disappearing down the marble corridor toward the bathroom. And the moment she was gone the room shifted.

Darrius watched her disappear before taking an unhurried sip of wine. “I suppose you’re fortunate.” Yunho didn’t bother looking at him. “At least she’s beautiful.” Darrius smirked. “For a human.” Several demons visibly tensed. Keres slowly lowered her wineglass while Yunho continued staring at the candle in front of him. He didn’t answer. Didn’t react. Didn’t give Darrius what he wanted. His fingers, however…. tightened around the stem of his glass as Marlo, seated farther down the table, cleared his throat. “I’m more surprised His Majesty allowed the marriage at all.” Yunho’s gaze shifted toward him and Marlo just shrugged. “I mean no disrespect. But…” He spread his hands. “Lucifer could’ve simply killed the girl.” The words landed with clinical indifference. “Sent her soul to Purgatory.” Yunho’s jaw flexed. “He didn’t.”

“No.” Marlo nodded. “He didn’t.” Darrius leaned farther back in his chair, watching Yunho with unmistakable satisfaction. “You know…” He swirled the remaining wine in his glass. “Eternity…” His smile widened. “is a very long time.” No one interrupted. “You’ve known her…” He pretended to calculate. “Almost a week. Forever changes people.” Yunho remained perfectly still. “If you ever get bored…” Darrius’s eyes glittered. “I could always take her off your princely hands.” The room froze and Keres closed her eyes with a sigh. “Darrius.” He ignored her. “I’m sure I’d appreciate her properly.” Yunho looked up and his eyes were completely black. Ancient infernal power rolled through the dining hall like a pressure wave, extinguishing half the candles before anyone had time to react. Every instinct in the room screamed the same warning. Too far.

Darrius realized it a heartbeat too late as his chair exploded backward across the marble floor. One moment he was seated. The next Yunho had him. The massive oak table cracked beneath the impact as Darrius slammed onto its surface hard enough to send crystal shattering across the room. Wine spilled. Silverware clattered. Several demons shot to their feet as Yunho’s hand wrapped around Darrius’s throat with terrifying ease. Black horns tore through the last remnants of his glamour and his nails lengthened into wicked black talons that dug just enough into Darrius’s collar without drawing blood. His voice no longer sounded entirely human either. It carried beneath it something older. Something that echoed through the room like distant thunder. “You.” Each word vibrated through the fractured table. “Will.” His grip tightened. “Never.” Darrius’s smile had finally vanished as he clawed once at Yunho’s wrist. “Speak.” Another crack splintered through the wood beneath them. “About.” The air itself seemed heavier as the younger demons instinctively lowered their eyes. Even the succubi had stopped breathing. “My wife.” The last word came almost as a growl. Not loud. Far worse. Y/N wasn’t there to see it. The man who laughed over gelato. The husband who remembered to put bread on her plate. Had disappeared.

Standing over Darrius now was the Prince of Hell. Lucifer’s son in his truest form. Across the room, Keres slowly rose from her chair but she didn’t interfere. Because every immortal present understood the same thing. Darrius hadn’t provoked Yunho. He had insulted the Princess of Hell. And those were not the same offense. Darrius’s boots scraped across the fractured tabletop as he struggled against a hand that refused to yield. The dining hall remained deathly silent, every demon present understanding that the evening had crossed a line no one was willing to step between. Darrius managed a strained laugh despite the pressure around his throat. “I knew you were still in there.” Yunho regarded him with frightening calm. His black eyes didn’t flicker. Didn’t blink. He slowly reached across the ruined table towards the place setting still lying neatly beside Darrius’s abandoned plate.

His fingers closed around a silver dinner fork and several demons stiffened and Keres finally spoke. “Yunho.” He didn’t acknowledge her as he turned the fork lazily between his fingers as though considering its craftsmanship. “You know what your problem is, Darrius?” The older demon said nothing. “You’ve mistaken restraint…” Yunho’s voice remained unnervingly even. “for weakness.” Darrius’s grin faltered again. “You keep testing limits…” The fork came to rest in Yunho’s hand. “because you’ve convinced yourself no one will enforce them.” In one swift motion, Yunho drove the fork forward and Darrius let out a sharp roar of pain as the blow struck his face, knocking him violently sideways. The force sent him tumbling off the shattered table, crashing hard onto the marble floor amid overturned chairs and broken crystal. The dining hall echoed with the impact but no one moved.

Darrius clutched at his injured face, cursing through gritted teeth as two other demons instinctively stepped back rather than toward him and Yunho simply looked down at him. “You’ll heal.” His tone carried no satisfaction. “Consider that a reminder.” He picked up his wineglass from the only part of the table that hadn’t collapsed, finished the remaining sip with infuriating composure, and set the empty crystal back onto the linen cloth. Then without another word he turned and walked out of the dining hall. The marble corridors outside were quiet. Only the distant sound of waves rolling against the cliffs beyond the estate drifting through the open archways. Yunho stopped outside the restroom and simply waited until Y/N stepped out drying her hands on a small linen towel, smiling the moment she saw him standing there.

Y/N jumped caught off guard but then laughed. “What? Feeling clingy again?” She teased walking toward him. “I leave for five minu…” The joke died on her lips when she finally looked at him. Really looked. His glamour was gone. Those glossy black horns curving proudly from his silver hair. His eyes completely black. Darkened claws at the ends of his fingers she hadn’t seen before. Even standing perfectly still, there was something different about him. Something heavier. The teasing smile slowly faded from her face. “Yunho?” He looked at her. The solid black of his eyes lingering for a heartbeat. Then another until the darkness began to recede and warm dark brown eyes returned around the edges of his irises and his shoulders eased as he looked past her for a brief moment before meeting her gaze again. “I scared you.” It wasn’t a question. She searched his face before slowly shaking her head. “No.” Her voice was quiet. “You just surprised me.”

His claws flexed once as though he’d only just remembered they were still there. “I’ll…” He looked down at his hand. “fix this.” Before he could step away, Y/N reached out. She didn’t touch his claws. She didn’t reach for his face. Instead… very gently… her fingers wrapped around the base of one of his horns and the contact made him freeze. “You came looking for me,” she said softly and he nodded. “I didn’t want you walking back in there.” She studied him for another long moment. “The prince came to find his wife.” A faint, weary smile finally touched the corner of his mouth. “Something like that.” She stepped closer until there was almost no space between them. “Then let’s go.”

“Where?”

“Anywhere that isn’t that dining room.”

Yunho’s claws retracted then. His entire demeanor softening as he leaned down, pressing his forehead to hers. “I’d like that.”

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The evening air was cooler outside. The estate overlooked the sea from high above the cliffs, the sound of waves breaking against the rocks below carrying through the olive trees that lined the gardens. Lanterns hung from ancient stone archways, their golden light dancing across winding pathways while the Mediterranean breeze gently stirred the flowers climbing over white marble walls. Neither of them spoke at first. Yunho simply walked beside her. His horns remained visible, though the infernal black that had swallowed his eyes had faded completely now. The elongated claws had receded as well, leaving only his hands tucked quietly into the pockets of his shorts. Little by little… The Prince of Hell disappeared leaving only Yunho again.

Y/N reached for his hand and he looked down, almost surprised as she intertwined their fingers as naturally as she’d done multiple times already. They wandered toward the edge of the property where a low stone wall overlooked the sea and Y/N leaned against it, tipping her head back. “You can actually see them.” Yunho followed her gaze. Above them, the sky stretched endlessly across the Mediterranean, countless stars scattered between ribbons of moonlight. “They’re beautiful.” She smiled. “You don’t really get this in Los Angeles. Too much light. And definitely not in Hell.” A quiet laugh escaped him. “No.”

“I guess eternal crimson skies aren’t great for stargazing.” She smiled and he laughed softly, the sound noticeably lighter than it had been only minutes earlier. “I’ll put that in the travel brochure.” For a while they simply stood there. Listening to the waves. Watching the stars. Until eventually… Y/N looked sideways at him. “What happened?” The question hung gently between them making Yunho’s smile disappear as he rested both forearms against the stone wall, staring out toward the dark sea for several long moments before answering. “I know you’re my wife.” She stayed quiet. “I know that’s forever. And I know…” He let out a slow breath. “eventually you’re going to see every part of who I am.” His gaze remained fixed on the horizon. “The good parts. The annoying parts. The parts that make you roll your eyes.” That earned the faintest smile from her. “And…” His voice grew quieter. “the parts I inherited from him.” He didn’t need to say his father’s name but she knew. “The version you saw tonight…” His jaw tightened almost imperceptibly. “that’s real. It isn’t an act. It isn’t something I pretend to be.” He looked down briefly at his own hands before continuing. “I’ve spent four hundred years in Hell. I’ve had to become someone capable of surviving it.”

Y/N didn’t interrupt. She wanted to listen. To patiently wait for him to open up more. “When Darrius spoke about you…” His expression hardened for only a second before softening again. “I stopped thinking. I just…” He searched for the words. “reacted. I don’t want you seeing that side of me yet.” Y/N frowned slightly. “Yet?” He hesitated and the next words caught somewhere behind his ribs. “Not until…” He stopped. He couldn’t bring himself to finish the sentence. Not until you love me enough that it won’t make you afraid of me. Instead, he looked back out over the sea. “Not yet.” Y/N studied him for a long moment. She understood there were words he’d chosen not to say as she stepped closer and rested her head lightly against his shoulder. “You know what I saw tonight?” He looked down at her. “I saw a husband…. who cares about his wife and refuses to have anyone disrespect her.” He started to answer but she gently shook her head. “I’m not saying whatever it was you did to him was the best response.”

The corner of his mouth twitched despite himself. “I figured.”

“But…” She looked up at him. “You’re also the same man who stood outside the bathroom because he wanted to make sure I didn’t walk back into that and see it. And then…” She reached up, her fingertips brushing lightly against one of his horns. “the first thing you worried about…” Her voice softened. “was whether you’d scared me.” The breeze stirred between them. “I don’t think monsters worry about that.” Yunho looked at her in silence. “I think…” She smiled gently. “you’re a good man…” Her thumb traced the smooth curve of his horn. “who happens to be the son of the Devil.” The weight in his shoulders eased completely as he leaned his forehead lightly against hers. “You make it sound very simple.”

“It isn’t.” She smiled. “But…” She squeezed his hand. “I think I’d rather learn every version of you… than spend forever wondering who you really are.” The waves rolled quietly against the cliffs below as above them the stars continued to shine as Yunho believed, if only for a moment, that maybe she wasn’t going to run from the parts of him he feared most.

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A/N: surprise surprise yes I am writing seonghwa again. don’t judge me, blame him /jk he has completely brainrotted me. but I just wanted to give y’all some dirty domestic action. I think I plan on opening my requests soon and start working on a longer series with hwa featuring a special guest but that’s all I say for now; so enjoy my cherries ˚₊‧꒰ა ☆ ໒꒱ ‧₊ feedback is always welcomed!

“What’s this?”

You’re in the kitchen, mixing pancake batter with chocolate chips, and you looked up to see Seonghwa holding a pregnancy test—the one you discarded this morning.

You cursed at yourself, annoyed you didn’t hide it better.

“Oh…yeah. I took it this morning.” You continued making breakfast, turning to the fridge to take out a carton of eggs.

“Well? Babe, I don’t know what the one line means.”

“Hwa, I’m not pregnant, relax.”

There was a beat of silence as you glanced his way, trying to read his expression. His eyes stayed fixed on the little plastic stick in his hand, his face frustratingly unreadable.

Not that it mattered. You were taking birth control.

These past few weeks, you’d simply felt…off. Taking the test seemed easier than letting your mind spiral.

A pregnancy was not in the plans, but you couldn’t act like it didn’t have your head spinning. Would Seonghwa want a kid with you? Are you even ready to be a mom? The whole thing fucked with your head.

Seonghwa turned the test over in his hand before setting it on the counter. He padded around the island on bare feet, slipping his arms around your waist. His body pressed to your backside as he nuzzled his chin onto your shoulder, gently kissing your neck.

“Are you okay?” He whispered, brushing your hair back.

“Of course. We have no plans for a baby, right?”

“I mean…no, but you look upset.” He admitted, his voice low and comforting.

You sighed, setting the whisk down.

“I was scared…and happy. I kept thinking, I don’t want to be pregnant. Then I’d think about having a little piece of us to love, and I’d get excited. Then it came back negative, and I was relieved…and then I got anxious that you— ”

Your voice caught, blinking away the tears fighting behind your eyes.

“That I what?” Seonghwa hugged you tighter. “Hey…talk to me.”

“That you wouldn’t want kids with me anyway.”

“Why would you think that?”

Turning to face him, you took his hands in yours.

“We’ve been together for seven years. Neither of us wants to get married or have kids right now. Sometimes I wonder if…maybe that’s just how it’ll always be.”

“Life isn’t a race. We have plenty of time to make those decisions together…when we’re ready.” Seonghwa delicately placed a kiss on your temple, then your cheek.

“How do you even know you’ll want me to have your babies?”

“Cause I already do, sweetheart.”

The words stole the air from your lungs.

Your lips parted, searching his face for even the smallest hint of hesitation.

There wasn’t any.

Your hands swept around his neck and you pulled his lips to yours, kissing him deeply. He moaned into your mouth, pushing your back against the edge of the countertop. The taste of him sent electricity through your body as your tongues rolled together, a familiar ache returning to your gut.

His hands lowered, gripping your ass in his palms.

“Fuck, I want you so bad.” He mumbled against your mouth.

You leaned your head back and broke the kiss, leaving Seonghwa pouting cutely as you giggled.

“Let me at least finish breakfast first.” You protested weakly.

“Hm, guess you’ll be my breakfast instead.”

Seonghwa hooked his long fingers in the waistband of your shorts, snatching them down your legs quickly. You lifted your feet one by one, letting him take them off before tossing them to the side. He, in turn, stripped free of his boxer briefs without a second thought.

It was adorable how eager he was for you. He swiped away the bowls and food behind you before grabbing hold of your hips. Hwa hoisted you up, planting your bare bottom onto the counter in one swift motion.

Clearly, making food would have to wait.

Even though your families begged to see you and Seonghwa wed and have kids, you were enjoying the simplicity of just being in love. You purred his name under your breath before his lips crashed against yours with a needy appetite.

Your hands caressed the back of his head, lacing your fingers into the hair at the nape of his neck. He scooted farther between your legs, his hands drawing you closer to the edge of the counter. His thick erection twitched between you as your lips moved lithely along each other’s.

“Hwa, I need you…please,” you whimpered, his lips ghosting down your jaw and latching onto your throat.

“Mmm…say that again, baby.”

His cool breath blowing along your ear, his tongue licking and tugging at the lobe.

The sensation curled down to your toes, forcing your grasp on him to tighten. Raspy moans fell from you, his mouth turning your head into a fuzzy mess.

“Seonghwa…I need you,” your hushed voice cooed as you rut your hips up and slip his cock along your slit, “I want you inside me.”

His body shuddered against you. Hwa suddenly met your eyes, his gaze lustful and hungry. A broken gasp caught in your chest as he made swift work parting your legs more, a hand guiding one of your legs onto his shoulder as he rested the other on the stool nearby.

“This is the only pussy I want to be inside of.”

Every word he whispered made you pathetically wet, blood buzzing in your ears and pounding the ruthless ache in your cunt. Seonghwa was the only one who ever made you feel this way without even being touched.

He tilted his head down and drooled lazily on his dick, lining it up to your entrance. Gliding himself up and down your folds, you shuddered and pinched his skin between your fingers. You inhaled a sharp bite of air between your teeth, arching your back as he tapped his length against your throbbing clit.

“Now you’re just teasing…” you muttered, earning a coy smile from him.

Fisting his shaft, he carefully stuffed himself inside your hot core, filling you completely.

“F-fuck!” You cried out loudly, his cock stretching your walls as he pushed deeper.

Your hand slapped against his naked chest as he picked up the pace. His thrusts were sharp, rough, and raw.

Each stroke twisting the knot in your belly as he bottomed out inside you.

“Hwa…” your whimpers of pleasure echoing through the kitchen as your dripping pussy fluttered around him.

From the sheer drive of his hips (and angle you were positioned), you were forced back, leaning on your arms with your hands gripping the island bar ledge. Hwa took advantage of your shift and gripped your hips, pounding into your cervix.

The ragged, incoherent noises tumbling from your lips were music to his ears. The air sweltered as the heat built from your bodies, arousal seeping around your skin as your hips shoved together.

“I love the sounds you make for me, princess.” He breathed heavily.

His velvety voice mingled with the searing squelching that filled the room, the harmony dancing through your dazed mind. The slick friction of his cock intoxicated you as his tip found that sweet spot almost instantly.

It was heaven—pure bliss.

Hwa softly kissed the inside of your knee. Tiny beads of sweat gathered at his brow. He gently wiped them across your skin as he rested his face against your leg.

“Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit,” you panted, laying your hand on his groin as his rhythm sped up.

It was too much.

The pressure in your belly grew more intense by the second.

Hiking your crop top above your breasts, Seonghwa latched his mouth to your nipple, lapping his warm tongue over the sensitive bud. Your eyes rolled back as he pumped in and out of you, the taut muscles in your stomach straining unbearably.

His cheeks hollowed as his puffy lips sucked lightly at your tender flesh. The carnal desire in his eyes stole your breath when he glanced up at your heated face, burying himself inside your cunt relentlessly.

“That’s it baby,” he huffed, seizing your throat in his palm, “—s’need you to cum all over me.”

Seonghwa kissed you passionately, teeth clicking with frantic need. A strangled noise released from you into his mouth, hips grinding together as the fire pooling in your abdomen burst and sent shockwaves through you.

“Hwa…” you mewled, vision painted with white sparks.

You tried to come down gradually from your orgasm, leaning forward as your pussy spasmed around him. You dug your nails into his muscly bicep—but Seonghwa refused. He grabbed the back of your hair, forcing your foreheads together.

“God, you feel s’good, s’fucking go—”

His voice caught, hips stuttering as a thunderous growl ripped from his chest. Thick, hot spurts of cum spilled inside your sopping core as Hwa rocked his hips back and forth, your folds milking every last drop from his cock. His grip in your hair tightened, his fingers digging into your scalp.

You lusciously squeezed around him. Feeling his orgasm, his length twitching against your juicy center, made time slow as if you were watching fireworks go off.

A combination of sweat and cum glistened brightly on your inner thighs. You could see droplets of sweat collecting on his upper lip and jaw. You loved it—the sweatier he was, the more you were turned on.

“Holy shit, baby. That pussy s’good.”

He kissed you again, more fiercely this time, but took his time tasting your mouth. The salty taste of his lips had you salivating for more.

You could never get enough of him.

“So you’re only going to put your babies in me?”

You rubbed your noses together sweetly.

“‘Til death do us part.”

Hwa stayed engulfed in your leaking heat, leaning back and caressing your cheek in his hand. Then, he suddenly slammed his cock to the hilt, knocking the wind out of you.

“Fuck! Fuck! Fuck!”

A mixture of screams and whines tore from your lungs, hands finding the marble ledge to ground yourself as Seonghwa continued to fuck you mercilessly. His hips moved with reckless abandon, ramming himself into your g-spot repeatedly.

There was little to no time for your orgasm to rapidly stir in your gut, but it felt different—like a burning rocket coming to shatter inside you. Seonghwa snapped your hips down harder against him, cursing your name under his breath.

This was the true definition of having your guts rearranged.

Your skin prickled as you exhaled unevenly, melting into the heady ecstasy.

“Hmm…that’s crazy it’s s’deep,” he hummed, his first load seeping out of you around his shaft, “f-fuck…your pussy feels s’wet.”

“Oh-oh my g-god…Seonghwa…don’t s-stop.”

The delicious wet noises wrecked you beyond comprehension. The piercing touch from his sopping erection set you aflame. Your walls clenched around him, head fried and dizzy.

You were royally fucked.

The crackling spring uncoiled and shot through you, body shaking as you came again, crying out silently. Juices trickled out of your pussy like a fountain, coating Seonghwa and the tile.

As your insides pulsed, they blindsided Seonghwa and pushed him out of you.

It was absolutely euphoric.

A full body orgasm that you never expected.

“Did you just…squirt?” he asked, eagerly looking from between your legs to the puddle on the floor.

“I-I think so?” you answered hesitantly, the blinding haze fading slowly from your eyes.

You weren’t entirely sure what just happened, it was brand new, but damn if you didn’t want to experience it again.

“Fucking hell…that’s hot.”

Wasting no time, Seonghwa glided his cock back into your cunt, hips resuming the same harsh pace as before. His hand wandered over your shirt and kneaded at your breast. His gaze met yours and you kissed him, lips moving lithely with sensual embrace.

If this is what being in love felt like, you never wanted it to end.

A series of groans and hoarse murmurs fell from Seonghwa’s lips into your mouth, vibrating through to your cunt as his hips tensed. He was close.

“Goddamn…baby, you’re gonna make me cum again.”

He held you possessively, shooting his load inside you for a second time, stuffing you full of his seed.

A beat of silence lingered between you until you both started laughing giddily, still breathless.

“What a pre-breakfast workout.” Seonghwa’s cock gingerly slipped out from your folds, letting his cum ooze out. A stream cascaded down your ass and onto the floor.

He looked insanely sexy and proud at that moment.

“Can I actually make us breakfast now?”

Seonghwa turned his head to the array of food and cookware beside you, and locked onto the open bag of chocolate chips by your thigh.

He picked two of them out and scooped them along the viscous fluids resting on your pussy then held them up to your mouth. You didn’t even think twice, just opened your lips and slurped the candy and cum from his fingers.

You had them for less than a second before Seonghwa kissed you, swirling his tongue to taste the rich tangy flavor. The kiss lingered even after it had all dissolved in your mouth. Your tongues rolled as your lips massaged together, moaning lovingly.

Nothing but you and him.

“I think my batter is better, but if you must.” He snorted cockily.

Chuckling, you rolled your eyes playfully, admiring his features. In your head, you plotted on ravaging him again after you got some energy from the scrumptious food you were making…

…before that pleasant interruption.

taglist: @maliabobea15 • @chanscappuccino

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

It was pretty clear that you had no interest in him. You were too busy gushing to Jongho’s older sister about boys from your university, none of them being anything remotely similar to Jongho. You liked boys who were older, much older, and stronger and bigger than you too. You liked them smart and outgoing. Jongho didn’t see himself as any of those things. When he first realized he was crushing hard on you back in his freshman year of high school, Jongho was still small and meek, a lanky boy with big eyes and a heart that beat for the prettiest girl in school. He still vividly remembers the first time he popped a boner because of you. He was truly a lost cause from the beginning. But he was never brave enough to act upon any of his feelings. He thought that just getting to be your friend for now was good enough. everyone wanted to be friends with you anyway. Jongho guesses that having his sister be your best friend came to his advantage in a way. But as the years passed, and things started to change, the one thing that remained unmoving was how you made Jongho feel. What used to be an innocent little crush that would make him swoon became something that started to intoxicate him. Jongho’s mind had long since strayed from innocent thoughts of getting to hold your hand and ask you out on cute dates where he’d kiss you on the cheek and tell you how beautiful you are. Jongho was not a little boy anymore. His high school days are over. He’s grown a good few inches since then. His body is strong, with broad shoulders and thick thighs that would make any girl swoon. His cheeks have lost their softness, jaw chiseled and more defined now instead. His speech is no longer quiet and slurred. His voice is deep and his words are much more calculated. His thoughts changed drastically too. He looks at you with hunger behind his eyes.

The hands he had once dreamed of intertwining his fingers with were now the ones he imagined trapping in his grasp, pinned above your head. The waist he had once longed to wrap his arms around and hold close was now one he imagined digging his fingertips into, leaving deep purple bruises in their wake.

The lips he thought of gently kissing he now pictures red and puffy from his teeth biting into them. Everything about Jongho changed. He now desires you in a much more carnal way than ever before. but despite all that, you still won’t look at him. It’s started to make Jongho beyond frustrated. having to see you come over and talk to his sister about every boy you’ve been seeing or hooking up with, when he’s the one that’s been pining after you for so long. it’s simply unfair and it makes Jongho want to pull his hair out. He hates having to see you dressed in skimpy little outfits, prancing around their house and getting ready, only to go out to clubs with his sister where other men would get to have their eyes and disgusting hands all over your body. Everyone else but Jongho got to have a taste of you and he was slowly starting to despise you for that. Having to see you so often became too overbearing when he realized you would never return his feelings. You would never look at Jongho the way he looks at you; with lust. All that you see him as is your best friend’s little brother. That’s all he’ll ever be in your eyes.

Jongho fucking hates that thought with a fiery passion.

It’s not uncommon for you to sleep over at their house most days. Jongho knows you prefer being here rather than with your own parents, since they’ve never really been good to you. Every time his sister and you go out clubbing, you’re guaranteed to come back to their place and sleep over.

Lately, it’s become a much more frequent occurrence for you to come back by yourself, after Jongho’s sister ends up ditching you at whatever party you were at, for any guy she decided to leave with that night. Which left you to come back to the house alone.

Where the only one waiting was Jongho. Most nights he’d sleep through the sound of the front door slamming and shuffling inside the house. But something made him startle awake this time around. Jongho is by no means a light sleeper, but today the sound of kitchen cabinets opening and closing rouse him from slumber, and the constant hiccups and loud steps padding through the living room wouldn’t let him go back to sleep. It’s like that for a good ten minutes. The commotion keeps him awake, staring at the ceiling of his room with a scowl etched between his brows, until it stops. The house falls silent again, almost as if it’s just him and no one else. But Jongho knows he’s not the only one in the house anymore, and since he didn’t hear his sister’s bedroom door opening, he knows she must not be the other person inside the house either. After another five minutes or so of silently staring into the darkness, he finally decides to kick the blankets off his body and get out of bed. The floor creaks as he walks and the tiles in the hallway are cold beneath his feet. He wishes he had put some socks on. Coming to a stop behind the living room couch he glances over at the tv that’s playing some sort of horror movie on mute that he knows he didn’t leave it on before going to bed. With a sigh, he walks closer and peers over the back of the couch. Of course, lying pretty, with hair splayed over the cushions and lips pouted outwards, is none other than you. Dressed in nothing but a tiny top and a skirt that rides halfway up your thighs, your shoes not even off your feet. “Sweet,” Jongho comments dryly, pursing his lips before walking around the couch to crouch before you. Shamelessly, he lets his eyes rake over your body, lingering on your exposed thighs, making his brows pinch together in sudden unreasonable frustration. Of course you had to come in here, looking like a beautiful disaster, smelling of sweet perfume and cigarette smoke, with glitter clinging to your lids and cheeks, most likely drunk off your ass. “You’re a mess,” Jongho scoffs. He doesn’t know why, but he reaches for your ankles, untying the laces that he can tell you must have struggled with, only to give up on. He slips the shoes off and starts to grow more frustrated by the second. “Had fun, Y/N?” he smiles bitterly with no genuine joy behind it. He doesn’t even look at you as he speaks. “I’m guessing not since you came back all by yourself.” You stir in your sleep, mumbling something incoherently before you quiet back down. Your hands are clutched into tiny fists by your head and your knees are bent up, curling into yourself. You look annoyingly adorable and Jongho can’t understand why he’s so angered by the image. “Probably let yourself be groped up at the party, didn’t you?” He spits with malice. “Let everyone just use you right then and there, didn’t even wait for someone to take you home.” You don’t make a single sound, only breathing evenly as you keep on sleeping peacefully. “Pathetic.” Jongho knows he has no right to do this. To say these words to you. To see you as a slut even though you’ve given him no reason to perceive you as such. But it’s the fact that you want everyone out there. Everyone else but him. He doesn’t even think twice before his eyes zero in on where your skirt has lifted enough to offer him a perfect view of your underwear. The light coming from the tv is also doing a good enough job of letting him get a better look. He shouldn’t. He’s disgusting. He’s cruel. He should feel ashamed. He flips your skirt up. The sight of pink lace makes his hands squeeze into fists and his mouth water involuntarily. Pretty, soft, delicate skin. Unmarked. Unclaimed. Right before his eyes. Jongho is going to either gouge his eyes out or get his hands all over your unconscious body in front of him. He opts for the latter.

It’s with a cautious move that he lets his palm run down the swell of your ass. Your skin dips ever so slightly underneath the pressure of his touch. The fat springs back into place when his fingertips dig in and out. Jongho bites his bottom lip until he draws blood. Of course every part of you just has to be pretty and irresistible. Jongho is positively seething at this point. “No one deserves you YN,” he mutters lowly, letting his hand trail down to the back of your thigh, digging his fingertips into the plumpness of it firmly enough to make you whine in your sleep and flip over onto your stomach, offering him easy access. “But i do.” Jongho hooks his index underneath soft lace. His eyes drift briefly over to your face, before he focuses right back. The anger is still present. It’s finally time, he decides. Time to take what is rightfully his. He’s waited long enough. “I deserve this.” Of course you’re still infinitely pretty everywhere. Even where Jongho’s never seen you before. He stares intently at your pussy that’s completely bare and smooth and inviting enough for him to part and expose your hole with two fingers. You’re all soft and pink, glistening beautifully before his eyes. He wants to slap his palm right on top of your cunt just so he can punish you for being so perfect even where you’re not supposed to be. He circles a tentative finger around the tight opening instead. It’s clear as day why anyone would want to get a taste of you. You’re far better than any of Jongho’s wet dreams. Every time he’s imagined himself with his head buried between your thighs, it didn’t even come close to how good you looked in real life. “Look at that,” he whispers, scooting closer and using his other hand to keep your panties pushed to the side. “How many cocks got to sink into this sloppy cunt, hm?” he tugs so hard that he thinks he can hear the lace slowly starting to rip in his hold.

“Who did you whore around for before finally getting to me, Y/N?” Of course you didn’t “get” to him willingly. If you hadn’t passed out drunk on the couch and if Jongho wasn’t such a disgusting pervert, this would’ve probably never happened. But alas, it did. And there’s no going back now. The feeling of moisture against his fingertips takes Jongho aback and it makes his jaw clench. Of course you’re wet from the faintest of touches. Pretty and responsive. Could things get any better? Jongho’s hand is shoved inside his sweatpants before he even gets to blink twice. He’s uselessly fisting at his cock that is now undeniably hard, knowing that what he needs in order to alleviate the ache is to sink it right into the cunt he’s been ogling at. Rising up to his feet, he tugs his pants low enough for his dick to spring free and bob into the open air, hot and hard to the touch. His eyes are locked onto your face, watching as you still sleep soundlessly, without a single clue about what’s about to occur next. His knee props up on the couch cushion right next to your head. With one hand he takes a hold of himself and with the other he smooths your hair off your face, tilting your chin back. “Pretty girl,” he sighs, circling the tip of his dick around your puckered lips. “All mine. just like you were meant to be.” His head prods at your mouth until it finally opens, lips suckling as if it was a pacifier. Jongho grits his teeth and tries his hardest not to slip his entire length down your throat. He lets you suck gently on the tip and drink up all the precum that’s being offered to you. “Fucking cock slut. Look at you.” Jongho’s thumb pushes at the corner of your mouth, encouraging you to open it further. “So eager to have something in your mouth even when you sleep.” You whimper weakly, eyelids starting to twitch. Jongho pays it no mind, guiding his dick little by little inside your mouth, engulfing himself in warmth and wetness, making his balls constrict.

The sight of you sleeping so blissfully unaware with your pussy out in the open and your mouth stuffed with cock makes him almost shoot his load right then and there. Before he realizes it, Jongho has slid far enough inside your mouth to make you gurgle. Your eyes flutter open in confusion. Strings of spit still cling from your lips and onto Jongho’s shaft, the sight utterly obscene. You cough, hand reaching forward to weakly paw at Jongho’s thigh, fingers grasping at the material of his sweatpants. “What the fuck-“ It takes you a little while to be able to focus enough on the sight in front of you. You blink up weakly. “Jongho?” Your eyes need a few long seconds to adjust to the darkness, but when they do, they look as if they might pop out of their sockets when you take notice of Jongho sitting before you with his dick out in the open, hard and wet with your spit. “W-what’s going on?” “Go back to sleep, Y/n,” Jongho’s tone was gruff and unwavering. A slight threat. Your face falls. Your eyes take in the scene in front you much more clearly, face becoming overtaken by fear. “What are you d-doing?” you ask, trying to scramble back. Jongho is quicker, though. His fingers wrap around your chin in a bruising grip before you can get too far. You stare up at him in pure horror. “For once, just let me have this,” Jongho grits, watching as your mouth parts, but seemingly not knowing how you should reply. “Don’t speak.” “Jongho,” you whisper, squirming uncomfortably and still trying to scoot back when you see him grab a hold of his dripping cock, “Y-you can’t do this.” “Why not?” Jongho scoffs, leaning in until he’s speaking right in your face. “This is all your fault, you know?” he spits, watching your eyes grow bigger. “You made me like this. Had me running after you like some sick puppy, only to kick me away like a stray every single time. You left me no choice.” Your bottom lip starts to tremble, a yelp escaping from the back of your throat when Jongho grabs a fistful of your hair, pulling you closer until your foreheads press together. “Why don’t you ever look at me?” Jongho asks, hurt evident in his voice. “Why don’t you like me?” “I-I do like you!” You cry out, trying to pry his hand away with your weaker ones, but it’s to no use. “Not the way I want you to.” He shakes his head, as though what he’s about to do has been decided long before this moment. The certainty in his expression makes your heart pound with fear. He releases your hair, only to seize the nape of your neck instead, his grip firm enough to keep you exactly where he wants you. “Not the way I like you.” “This is wrong Jongho, please!” You desperately plead, trying to kick your feet, but to no use. It doesn’t deter Jongho in the slightest. “It is,” Jongho nods his head. He knows it’s wrong. He knows he should stop. But you owe him this. “I’m sorry.” Before you have the chance to scream, the breath is knocked out of your lungs as Jongho manhandles you, flipping you onto your front. Your skirt is still flipped up, underwear hanging crookedly over your hips. It’s relatively easy for Jongho to reach between your thighs and cup you right on top of where you’re warmest. “No, stop!” You struggle uselessly, cries getting more frightened by the second as Jongho continues on unbothered. “Jongho, get off, seriously!” Jongho can tell you’re still drunk. Your movements are sluggish, your speech slightly slurred. You kick your legs weakly and try to scoot away, but you’re far too slow for someone who supposedly doesn’t want this. He uses that as an advantage. A sharp slap lands against your cunt, making you squeak as your body stills instantly. “Let me have this,” Jongho grits out, anger roughening every word. As though this is somehow your fault. As though you’ve done something to wrong him.“Stop refusing me.”

“Please, please, please…let me go,” You hiccup weakly, trying to shift your hips away, but it’s no use. Jongho is already dragging your underwear down your thighs with one hand, the other holding your hands tightly behind your back. “Why does everyone get to have you but me?” Jongho asks bitterly, like he can’t make sense of why you insist on denying him. “Look at this,” he scoffs incredulously, running a tentative finger through your folds. “How many people got to have a taste of this cunt before me?” You gasp wetly, falling stiff as a board, as if all your fight or flight instincts have suddenly left. You can do nothing but breathe heavily as Jongho’s fingers start to run up and down through your parted folds. The first press to your clit has you yelping and trembling, as if a button had been pushed inside of you. Your body reacts against your own will, hole slicking in an instant. When Jongho’s fingertips come back sticky he chuckles darkly. “Of course you’re wet,” He presses down even more punishingly on your clit, making your legs flail, mouth falling open. “You don’t even want me, yet your little cunny is gushing at the slightest touch.”

A shudder of humiliation goes through you. You think you should definitely be fighting a lot harder than are. Your high pitched mewls are not doing much to help you in your current predicament. “W-wait, stop,” You gasps at the first hint of a finger near your opening. “Please!” Your pleas fall upon deaf ears as Jongho easily sinks two fingers down to the knuckle. He grunts. You feel snug and warm—like you’re trying to suck him right in. Jonghos wondered for so long how you would feel inside. He can’t believe the day in which his questions are being answered has finally come. “Fucking tight,” he grunts, fingers scissoring inside your cunt mercilessly, adding another alongside the first two.

It’s a tight fit, but your gushing hole accepts it greedily. “Love your slutty body.” Your hands try weakly to slide out of Jongho’s grip. So weakly it can’t even be considered an actual attempt. Jongho wants to laugh at the futile attempt but he focuses on thrusting his fingers harder instead. "Could probably break you right in half.” It’s not a lie. You looks so small and fragile underneath him right now. The words, although they don't sound like a genuine threat, are far from false. "Fuck you so hard that you'd ache for days on end." You sob pitifully, face splotchy with tears and mouth overfilling with spit that dribbles down the corners of your mouth. This already feels like too much and Jongho hasn’t even gotten his dick inside of you yet. “You’d like it too,” Jongho continues to speak. He curls his fingers causing you to release a choked sound. “I know you would.” You try to shake your head no, but your neck aches too much in your position. “Filthy little slut.” A whine escapes you when the fingers inside of you suddenly pull out without warning, leaving you empty and clenching around nothing, still wet and throbbing in the chilly air of the room. You take that as a chance and desperately struggle to push yourself up when your arms get released. Jongho is on you in an instant, having climbed up on the couch behind you, hands forcefully holding your hips down. You sob softly as you grip onto the couch arm uselessly, blunt fingernails digging into the velvety material. The breath gets knocked out of your lungs when you feel something prodding at your entrance. “I’m going to fuck you,” Jongho says without a hint of doubt. No hint of hesitation. Jongho wholeheartedly means what he says and you know that. Which is exactly why you’re absolutely terrified, heart now stuck in your throat. “N-no, Jongho, please! I’ll do anything! Y-you can take me out—we’ll go on a date, and we can do whatever you want. Please!”You desperately try to reason with him. On any other day, Jongho might have considered your proposal. He wishes it didn’t have to come to this for you to finally entertain the idea of going on a date with him. Jongho lets out a heavy sigh. “You’d do anything?” 

You nod frantically. “Anything!” 

Jongho pretends to think it over. He ponders with a hand holding his dick and the other pressing down on the small of your back, keeping you in place.  

“Then sit still,” He finally grunts followed by a sharp thrust of his hips. A painful wheeze rips straight out of your lungs when he shoves himself inside your outstretched cunt, bottoming out in one go.  Fat tears instantly roll down your already sticky cheeks, your frail body getting jostled forward from the powerful thrust. 

“Shit,” Jongho grunts at the same time as you whisper another “please” that goes unanswered. “Always knew you’d have the tightest pussy.” 

Your stomach stirs as Jongho begins to pull out, the drag feeling searing against your walls, only to push right back in twice as powerful. You think you see white for a solid moment. 

“Oh God,” you moan, gripping tightly onto the couch as you get mercilessly plowed into. The worst part of it all is when it starts to feel good. You can’t deny how deliciously heavy Jongho feels inside of you. How well he’s pounding you right into the couch, making you feel small and helpless underneath him, completely overpowered. 

You gush around his cock so much you’re sure you made a puddle underneath yourself. “Mine,” Jongho growls, lowering down enough so he can nip on the back of your neck. “All of you belongs to me, Y/n. This pretty little body of yours,” You cry out when your front gets lifted enough for Jongho to sneak his hands underneath your chest and cup your breasts over your top, “These fat tits,” you positively sob when your bra is pushed down and your perky nipples get exposed to the air of the room, twisted by skillful fingers, “This tight little cunt.” the statement is accompanied by a powerful thrust that you feel all the way in your  tummy. “Mine, Mine, Mine. You’re all mine.” 

You can do nothing but keep on moaning as you get fucked within an inch of your life, filthy words being continuously grunted in your ear as you  unwillingly hurl towards an orgasm, screaming as you cum and let go all around Jongho’s cock. 

“God, you really are just the perfect whore,” Jongho’s hips piston into you, making your ass jiggle with every powerful thrust, painfully overstimulating your sensitive hole as he pounds you with purpose. Before you can try to recover, and get a grasp on reality, Jongho is cumming hotly inside of you, making you keen high in your throat as you feel how deep he shoots his load. 

You’re unable to do anything else but slump down with a defeated whimper.   

“Good, so good. Did so well,” Jongho practically purrs, pressing kisses over your shoulder blades, still holding you down. “I knew you’d like it.” 

You want to scream. To tell him that you didn’t like it. That it was wrong. But that would clearly be a lie. The only thing you can do is whine. 

“Shh, don’t worry,” Jongho leans forward so he can reach your face, kissing your cheek tenderly. “I’m not done with you yet.” 

You lost the power to protest long ago. 

Jongho sits behind the kitchen counter, eating a bowl of cornflakes when his sister walks into the house at the crack of dawn. She seems surprised to find him awake so early in the morning. Quickly scanning the room, she realizes it’s just the two of them.

“Where’s Y/n?” she asks, furrowing her brows as she tosses her purse onto the couch.

Jongho shrugs. “Dunno.”

She yawns loudly as she clumsily slips off her shoes. “Whatever. I’m going to bed. Don’t wake me up.”

Jongho rolls his eyes, but a slight smirk tugs at the corners of his mouth. He wouldn’t even dream of it. When the door to his sister’s bedroom shuts loudly, he deems it safe to get up and places his bowl in the sink before retreating to his own room. The sun has just started to rise, and his room is engulfed in a weak yellow glow. Jongho thinks there is nothing more beautiful in the world than the sight of you lying in his bed in the warm glow of the sunrise—naked and bruised, completely debauched and cum stained. “Hi, pretty baby.” He smiles widely as he locks the door behind him. You whine from behind the makeshift gag Jongho tied around your head and shoved inside your mouth. “Guess what?” You whine weakly as Jongho stalks toward you, carefully climbing onto the bed and hovering above you. When he frees your mouth and lets you catch your breath, he speaks the words you don’t know if you’ve been dreading or somehow excitedly anticipating. “I get to have you for the whole day.” You don’t even have time to respond before he’s kissing you again. And again. And then again, until the world around you disappears, until you melt into the mattress and into Jongho’s arms. Where you belong.

You love your life. 

You love that you can wake up whenever you want, and that you have no set schedule to live by. The only deadlines you have to worry about are the ones you make for yourself. You love your beautiful apartment that you didn’t need anyone else’s help to get, and that it is so close to everything in the city. You love not worrying about money anymore. You get to live however you deem fit, taking life one day at a time. Everything in your life is by your own design. Honestly? It’s a dream. 

And it’s easy money, giving men a fantasy for the night. 

That’s what you sell, the idea of you. In everyday life, you don’t pout nearly as much as you do on camera, nor do you talk as sweetly to strangers. Some of them, though, aren’t strangers to you anymore. You recognize their usernames and their donations, especially the ones who have been fans of yours since you started, and the ones who pay for your highest tiered subscription. Twenty-five dollars a month just to jerk off to your exclusive content. Ah, men. 

Your fanbase has grown and grown, skyrocketing somewhat recently when you convinced Yeosang, your hot guy friend, to join you in one of your videos. He’d worn a face mask to protect his identity, but it had been so obvious that he’s attractive even with it on. The black tank top left little to the imagination as your audience watched the muscles in his arms flex as his strong hands fingered you over and over again while he talked you through each orgasm. It was a rather simple video, with no actual sex. Regardless, that became one of your most viewed videos even though it was an exclusive, and the video that ended up paying for this apartment. Men and women alike scrambled to type in their credit card information to see it, boosting not only your ego, but your bank account as well. You gave Yeosang a decent sized chunk of your earnings, seeing as he was in the video too.  

His whole face had turned red when you showed him the number of views, hiding behind his hands for good measure. He’s always been shy, it was a damn miracle you even got him to do it in the first place. 

Since then, you’ve been living quite comfortably. Yeosang, too. Despite your efforts to convince him to create his own account for people to subscribe to, he’s maintained his ‘innocence’. However, recently he’s been asking you more and more about the details and dynamics of running an account like yours. You’re almost afraid to jinx it, like if you ask him outright if he’s thinking about it, he’ll forget the whole thing and never do it. Who are you to potentially accidentally deny the general paying population of your hot friend? 

He may become even more popular than me, you think to yourself, a small smile tugging at the corners of your mouth. 

You glance at your laptop, its camera trained at a specific angle towards your empty bed, and you peek at how many people are waiting for your livestream to start. Friday nights are always good to pull in larger crowds, and tonight is no different. 

Nine hundred, and climbing. 

Whoa.

You let out a low whistle at the number, the highest you’ve ever seen it just for the amount of people waiting. You’re not even due to start for another ten minutes. The number shifts around a couple times, losing some, and gaining more every minute. For the first time in a while, you start to feel a little self-conscious. This newfound fame is still just that: new. Even though you can’t see the audience you’ve gathered, you still feel that there are nine hundred pairs of eyes on you in your bedroom. There’s a nervous flutter in your chest that you can’t seem to shake off in the dwindling minutes before your stream begins. 

With only two minutes left, you flit around your room, double checking how you look in your mirror, fixing your hair and makeup, and adjusting one of the straps to the lingerie you picked out for the evening. You sit prettily on the bed, taking a few moments before you start to center yourself, taking deep breaths and focusing on getting your head clear for tonight’s performance. 

A ‘performance’ is basically all it is.   

Your fingers hover over the trackpad of your laptop, counting down the seconds until there are none left, and you click “Go Live”. 

As usual, you allow about ten seconds to go by, waiting for more to join once they get the notification that the stream has started. You read the sudden influx of chat, smiling when you see familiar usernames and knowing that rent will be covered for the next couple of months, just by their presence here. If you wanted something, all you had to do was ask for it. Someone in the chat will gladly donate however much you need – and then some – just for the chance to hear you read their username and thank them in your sweet voice. 

So easy.  

You saturate your greeting with honey, looking up into the laptop camera, eyes round and innocent. 

“Hi, everyone,” you sing, giggling for all of the people vying for your attention. Each comment is sent with the hope that you’ll read it out. Some send tips already, small amounts mostly in the single digits, but there are a couple of doubles sent your way already. The tip counter in the upper corner of the screen increases steadily with each donation as they come. Compliments, questions, requests, and general niceties move up the screen in a constant staccato, making room for the next. 

You lean back on your hands, pretending that you don’t know what you’re doing with this angle. The camera is angled down, providing an almost perfect POV shot for the audience. The fantasy begins immediately. You uncross your legs, feigning shyness. 

“My day was okay, thank you,” you purr, knowing you just made someone nearly cream their pants by answering their question. “But… I’ve just been so lonely.” 

You pout, right on cue to accompany your words. Instantly, the comment section floods with volunteers to cure you of your loneliness. Each one promises they can fix it, that they’ll be there for you, that they’ll never leave. It’s flattering, but none of them really mean it. Maybe they think they do, but again none of them really know you. You doubt most of them want to get to the very root of you and figure you out. No, most if not all just want to get into your pants to say that they have. Bragging rights. 

[user75846] will yeo be joining you?

You read the comment aloud, shaking your head in quiet defeat. “No, it’s just me tonight.” 

Some comments beg for his return, others are happy that it’s just you – the jealous types – and the rest are simply impatient to see your body. Your hand trails across the hem of your flimsy, sheer tank top you chose to wear for the evening. It leaves little to the imagination. The quiet pinging of more money being donated motivates you further. You sigh, looking up into the camera again. 

“I’ve been so sad and lonely all day… you guys will help me, right?” 

You pull your shirt down just a little more, showcasing your cleavage while keeping your face as innocent as possible. The comments spike again, but you don’t pay attention to them anymore. Your hand travels farther up to your mouth, fingers threatening to slip between your glossy lips. Twelve hundred people watch and wait. You hum, parting your lips slightly but not quite giving them the visual they want. Not yet. There’s no rush – not for you, at least. But one comment catches your eye because of its impatience.   

[mntn3000]: start.

Very blunt. You don’t recognize the username as one of your regulars or subscribers. Whoever this is must be new. You’ve run and maintained a rather strict program with your subscribers when it comes to what they say in the live chat – politeness being one of the main rules. The lack of a ‘please’ to sweeten the demand nearly twists your face into something less angelic. Maybe whoever this user is is already close, unable to finish his sentence before he finishes himself. You bet once you take your shirt off he’ll blow his load and leave. It happens. For now, you’ll have fun with him. Teach this newcomer some manners. 

You dip your fingers in, tongue peeking out to greet them into your mouth. The amount of comments slows just a little, silently telling you that some of your viewers are beginning to work themselves up along with you. 

“Oh dear… ‘mntn3000’ just said ‘start’. No ‘please’? Will someone let him know how this works?” You keep your voice sugary, making sure everyone knows you aren’t hurt or being stuck-up, but that you’re rather amused at the comment. 

Almost immediately, upon request, you see one of your regulars tag the newcomer in a message explaining the chat rules. 

“Thank you, Woo,” you hum, lifting your shirt up even more, just for him, to show your gratitude. Your hand lingers near your breast, a small shudder running through your body as you graze your nipple.