Noon 20+

They didn't hear the door open. Oscar had her folded in half, hips grinding into hers, his mouth on her chest, her legs trembling from a second orgasm she hadn't even come down from yet.

"Fuck, baby," he groaned, cock buried deep. "You're so wet-so tight-"

Her nails scratched down his back.

"Please please, Oscar-don't stop-"

He didn't.

Of course he didn't.

He was fucking her like he meant it, slow, deep thrusts, sweat on his brow, moaning low and soft every time her cunt clenched around him.

And that was the scene Lando walked in on. Hotel suite. Bedroom. Door open. And them, tangled in the middle of the bed, her legs over Oscar's shoulders, Oscar fucking into her like he'd die if he stopped.

"Oh-fuck-sorry," Lando choked out, stepping back.

But neither of them moved. Oscar looked up, eyes low, sweat-slicked, glowing. And said, "Don't leave."

Lando froze. She turned her head, dazed, cheeks flushed, eyes glassy. "He can stay?" she breathed, voice wrecked.

"If he wants to," Oscar said. "Do you want him to?"

Her lips parted. Then she nodded. Lando didn't speak. Just stared. Watched.

His gaze dropped to where their bodies were joined, the wet sounds, the slow grind of Oscar's hips, the look on her face when Oscar whispered, "You're gonna come again with him watching."

Lando's cock twitched. Oscar smiled. "Come here."

Lando stepped forward. Oscar didn't stop moving, fucking her through another tremor, slow and brutal, the kind that made her whimper.

"Take her hand," Oscar said.

Lando did. She squeezed his fingers.

Oscar moaned. "Good girl. Let him see how good you are."

She was crying again. From the pressure. From the heat.

From how filthy it was, fucking her boyfriend while his teammate sat beside them, stroking her hand, watching her like a movie.

"You want to kiss him?" Oscar murmured.

She nodded fast.

Lando blinked. "Are you-?"

"Yes," Oscar said.

And so Lando leaned down, slow, hesitant, and pressed his mouth to hers.

She moaned into it. Oscar groaned. "You're fucking soaked."

She cried, "I can't-Oscar-I'm gonna-"

"Do it."

She came. Hard. Shaking under both of them, clenching around Oscar, whimpering into Lando's mouth. And then? Oscar pulled out. Let her fall back into the pillows, ruined and panting.

Lando looked stunned. Until Oscar turned to him and said: "Your turn." 

Lando was panting before he even touched her. Not just from the heat in the room, the sweat on her body, the flushed look on Oscar's face, but from how it felt to be given permission.

To fuck Oscar's girl. To watch him pull out, shift to the side, and say calmly: "She's ready for you."

Her eyes were already closed. Fucked out. Beautiful. Lando crawled between her legs, one hand sliding down her thigh, the other stroking his cock in slow, shallow pumps.

"Fuck," he whispered. "She's still warm."

"She's perfect," Oscar said, sitting beside her now, one hand in her hair. "Go slow. She's sensitive."

Lando nodded. Lined up. And slid in. Her body arched. The stretch, even after Oscar, still made her gasp, and Lando groaned low in his throat as he bottomed out in one slow, heavy thrust.

"Oh my-fuck-"

She whimpered.

Lando leaned over her. "Too much?"

She shook her head frantically. "Don't stop."

Oscar smiled. "Told you," he murmured. "She can take it."

And Lando fucked her.

Not rough, not yet. Just deep, thick, devastating strokes. Every thrust dragged a cry from her lips. Every time she clenched around him, Lando moaned like he was going to lose it.

Oscar was beside them, watching, stroking her cheek, whispering in her ear. "You're doing so well," he murmured. "Taking Lando so good, baby. You look so pretty like this."

Lando's rhythm stuttered. "I'm not gonna last."

Oscar laughed softly. "You haven't even seen what she's like when she comes with your cock inside her."

And that, that was enough to make Lando lose it. He leaned in harder, grabbed her hips, slammed into her once, twice, and she screamed.

Oscar caught her face. "Eyes on me," he said. "I want to see you break."

She looked at him and came. Loud. Shaking. Falling apart with Lando still inside her, cock twitching, body heaving.

Lando groaned as she clenched around him, so tight, so fucking wet, and came too, pulsing deep inside her, head falling to her shoulder.

Silence. Breath. Bliss. Until Oscar leaned in, kissed her temple, and whispered: "You still with me, baby?"

She nodded, trembling. Oscar kissed her lips. Then said, "Sit up."

"What-"

"I want you on my lap."

Lando blinked. "You're going again?"

Oscar just smiled. "She can take it." And she could.

She crawled into his lap, already dripping, thighs sticky, eyes glassy, and Oscar guided his cock into her like coming home.

She moaned, weak, soft. Oscar wrapped his arms around her, cradling her back, and began to grind up into her. Lando sat beside them, watching. Mouth open. Eyes wide. Because it was beautiful.

The way she rode Oscar. The way Oscar held her close. The way her tears mixed with her moans as she whispered, "Don't stop, Osc-please-don't stop."

Oscar didn't stop. He fucked her deep and slow. Lando stroked her thigh.

Oscar kissed her cheek. "You're ours now," he whispered. "For tonight."

"For always," Lando added.

And when she came again, slow, quiet, full-body devastation, they held her through it.

A date with a shared friend of your two roommates, one you originally didn’t want to go on, but were now somewhat excited for. You haven’t been on a date in a while, which you didn’t think much of, but it seemed everyone and their mother was more than concerned for your love life than you were. You were content with San and Wooyoung, your two roommates, and your one year old black lab named Sweetie who was almost as big as you.

After fighting both San and Wooyoung’s attempts at convincing you to go out with Yunho for a week, you finally agreed, days into the follicular phase of your cycle, mere moments out of the month when you craved the touch of a man. Now, mid-ovulation, you weren’t completely sure where you wanted to end up tonight. 

You knew Yunho well. Being a friend of both San and Wooyoung, he was over your apartment all the time, with his shaggy brown hair, cozy clothes that made him look like a librarian, legs that stretched on forever. Sometimes you caught yourself staring at his veiny hands for a second longer than what was considered appropriate, but you never thought of Yunho as an actual option. 

When you came home after a long day of teaching, blabbing to San and Wooyoung how the other teachers at the studio teased you for being single yet again, telling you that you should at least go on dates, the pair took it upon themselves to find you a suitor. Silently, without your knowledge, they hooked you up with Yunho, one of the only other single people in their friend group. Your friend group.

“I guess the second one?” You tilted your head to the side in thought, turning to stare at yourself in the mirror again, a black dress that hugged your curves dangerously. “Maybe this is more club than it is dinner and drinks.”

“Try on the other one again,” San tilted his chin toward the brown dress you tossed on the chair in the corner of your room, the one usually tucked under your desk that held your two-monitor PC setup. Used mainly for The Sims 4. No one had to know that part, though, your set-up was sick. 

You whined, head falling backward, effectively giving up. Sweetie’s head picked up, and San’s amused smile grew as you trudged across your bedroom, crawling on your bed, sprawling yourself across your best friend who rolled on his back, opening his arms to welcome you in. 

San chuckled, your head tucked below his chin, vibrations bleeding through your skin. His body was so hard beneath you, so warm and inviting, you could happily stay here, buried into him forever. He turned his head, making room to press a kiss to the top of your head, “You’ll have fun, Yunho’s a great guy. He’ll treat you well.”

“What if I just want to cuddle and watch movies all night? Is it so bad to cancel now?” You mumbled, voice muffled by the cotton white tee he wore, one from the pack you bought him a month ago. His home uniform, a white tee that clung to his body like latex, and gray sweats that hung so low on his hips you wondered how they didn’t fall off sometimes. 

“Come on,” San ushered you upward, his chest pushing on your cheek until you pulled your arms under your body to lift yourself off of him. You pouted, he smiled, dimples joining the party on your bedspread. “If you don’t like him, you leave, no harm, no foul.”

“He’s your friend,” you whined again, bottom lip jutting out in the most exaggerated way. “Why did I agree to a set up with one of your friends?”

Just as San was about to protest that Yunho is one of your friends too, you heard the front door snap open, sneakers hitting the wall as he kicked them off his feet, you always heard him before you saw him. Yours and San’s heads turned to your opened bedroom door as Wooyoung yelled from the living room, “It’s date night!”

You sighed, sitting backward, legs tucked under you. Sweetie got up from where he snuggled against San and joined your pity party by laying across your lap, head nuzzling into your tummy. Like a reflex, you scratched your fingers along his back, on the top of his head, he pushed air through his nose in delight. 

Wooyoung ran into your bedroom, halting dramatically in your doorway, both hands propped up on the frame on either side of his head. His eyes danced between you, San and your dog, but they landed on San. “Why isn’t she ready?” Eyes sliding to you, “Why aren’t you ready?” 

“I don’t wanna go,” your head tipped back again, whining, “Sweetie doesn’t want me to go either, look at him, he’s so cozy. He wants me to stay home and cuddle with him.” 

Wooyoung’s lips flattened in a line, “You can’t cancel on him, Shy. He’ll be here in thirty minutes to pick you up, it’s rude if you cancel now. Get up, girl.”

Your top lip curled in distaste, you hated when he said your name like that, even if it was the nickname they both had for you. Really, it was San’s nickname, which was originally your mother’s, he picked it up when he was three, when your entire family called you their shy girl. The nickname had always stuck with him, even after moving away from your hometown and into the city that your family thankfully wouldn’t step foot in, even after almost a decade. When you met Wooyoung your junior year of college, he thought the nickname was so damn cute he started calling you Shy, too. 

Wooyoung moved to the center of your room, movements fluid, eyes dancing about the space like he was your fairy godmother. Picking up the brown dress thrown over your chair, he cheered, “Aha! I love this one on you.”

Sighing, you tapped on Sweetie’s head, a warning to him before you stood up. He crawled off your lap and back into San’s chest, settling in his side just like he had before you interrupted. You stood up off the bed, pulling your dress down your thighs, and Wooyoung grinned, eyes flaring, “That dress is an option? What, are you planning on fucking him?”

Eyes narrowing, you scowled at him, crossing the room to snatch the brown dress from his hands. In all black, jeans, tee and jacket, he wore his hat backwards on his head, hiding his short, cropped black hair. Rings adorned his fingers, silver necklaces on his neck, he and San so opposite it still made you laugh at how close the three of you are. 

You supposed you were the glue. To Wooyoung’s hotheaded, outspoken, free-bird self, San was more emotional, logical, he actually thought before he spoke, when his feelings didn’t cloud his mind. You were the perfect combination, spontaneous yet level-headed, in tune with your emotions, in tune with theirs, you were the ground they stood on, the final word in their decisions. Why did you need to go on this date when all you needed was in this room with you?

“No,” you bite, throwing the dress on the bed while you pull the one you already wore up and off your body. 

Woo laughed, sitting down on the chair he stole the dress from, “No? Your panties match your bra.”

“I just wanted to be prepared,” you throw the dress at him as soon as it's off your body and he catches it with one hand, eyes obviously drinking in your figure. Too close for comfort, that’s what the three of you were, roommates and best friends and an enigma no one around you can understand. 

When you turn to San, his eyes are on Sweetie before him, his fingers lightly scratching his head. Always polite, always considerate, you grabbed the brown dress you threw on the bed, forcing yourself to not recall the days where he wasn’t so respectful. 

“Did you shave? Be honest,” Wooyoung’s eyebrows raise as you step into the low cut, bodycon brown dress. You snort, walking towards him so he can zip it up your back. 

“I trimmed,” you answer simply, amusement dancing in your tone, pulling your hair to one side to give him access to the zipper. He straightens in the chair, one hand on your hip as the other tugs the chilly zipper up your back, he stands back up to reach the top. You turn to him, hair still grasped in your fist, brows raised as the thought crosses your mind, “Should I have shaved?” 

“Hell no,” San responds from the bed, eyes trained on you and Wooyoung standing feet away from him. “Yunho’s a man, like, a man. He doesn’t give a fuck if you have a bush or whatever.”

“You should have left the bush,” Wooyoung’s smile is swimming in his eyes too, half-joking, half-serious, “it’s like unwrapping a present on Christmas morning.” 

You peel away from him with a laugh as you stand before your full-length mirror, hands gliding down your body as you twist from side to side, head tilted to look at yourself from every angle. You look good, the color compliments your features, accentuates your curves just enough, you didn’t know if the heavy feeling in your gut was anxiety or if you didn’t feel confident or what. It’s been a long while since you’ve been on a date. You sigh, “I just feel like it’s too much.”

Wooyoung comes up behind you, one of his veiny hands on your waist, his cologne in your nose. Woody, notes of creamy sandalwood, spicy, you ease into his touch as he swings a pair of pumps around your front for you to look at through the mirror. You missed when he grabbed them from your closet. “You’ll feel better with these on,” his voice is low in your ear, velvety even if it wasn't intentional, “Your legs will look longer. He’ll wanna eat you from across the table instead of his food.”

You nod, swallowing, ridding your thoughts of all things incriminating about your roommate and best friend. He moves to crouch down on one knee in front of you, your heels on the floor beside him. San, on his stomach now, is beaming while he watches Wooyoung give you princess treatment as if your heart wasn’t reaching tachycardic level, “It’s like you’re Cinderella. Shinderella.”

Your brows scrunch as a punched laugh rushes from your chest, one palm holding the hat on Wooyoung’s head for leverage as you slip your foot into the deep maroon heel he’s holding out for you. “That was an awful joke, Sannie.”

“I liked it,” Wooyoung smiles up at you, sincerity in his eyes, all warmth and love as he grabs the other shoe, “You deserve to be treated like a princess, so if he doesn’t hold the door open for you, pull the chair out for you, if he doesn’t pay the bill, you come home straight to us.”

He stands up on two feet to lean forward, pressing a kiss to your freshly done hair, hands squeezing your shoulders, “Why does this lowkey feel like a big deal?” He turns around to look at San while your face flushes aggressively, “I feel like we’re giving her away.”

San snorts a laugh, tucking a muscled arm under his head to lay his cheek on, “She knows she’s ours at the end of the day.”

You roll your eyes, hands on your hips again as you turn to San, disagreement in your body language but in your heart you know it’s fucking true. Ever since you were little, you’ve looked up to San in a way, always taller than you, stronger than you, older than you. Even if it’s only by a year, you’ve always seen him as someone wiser, someone you could count on no matter what, if you needed him, he’d be there. Because of that you’ve always stuck by his side, never treading farther than arm’s reach, because as much as you were San’s, he was also yours. 

And he knew it in his bones, too. 

“It’s one date,” your voice is full of reassurance as you walk to your closet, pulling out your collection of bags, totes, purses, already having one in mind. Finally finding the tiny black Coach purse as you realize what you’d just said, you whip around to look at his dimpled-cheeks deep in the pocket of his elbow, purse tucked under your arm, “Why was I just about to convince you why I should go? This is getting very backwards.”

“Because you love us so much, you don’t want us to sit here all night, all sad because some six foot sexy man is taking you away from us,” Wooyoung’s voice is full of humor as he sits back on your bed, one leg tucked under him, one hand rubbing San’s exposed ankle. He sits up a little straighter, “You should still go, though. We won’t be that sad.”

With your features blown into offense, you scoff, “I’d expect you two to be crying, nervous wrecks while I’m gone. You’re telling me you’ll be fine and dandy while I’m off getting pounded by that same six foot sexy man?”

“Pounded?” Wooyoung and San answer at the same time, their eyes wide, eyebrows in their hairlines. San even picked his head up from the pocket of his elbow. 

You laugh loudly as you put your everyday purse on Wooyoung’s lap, transferring all your necessities into the tiny handbag. San sits up, crawling behind Wooyoung with his legs straddling the younger man’s back, “You’re really gonna fuck him?!”

“Do we need to have the talk?” Wooyoung blinks at you, face completely shocked, leaning back into San’s arms that wrapped around his front, “When was the last time you even had sex?”

“I’m twenty-eight years old, first of all.” You hold up two hands in front of you, palms flat, facing both men. “Second of all, I don’t know! Who knows? If the date goes super awesome-ly then I might end up in his bed, yeah.” You point a finger at Wooyoung, eyes narrowing, “Third of all, screw you. Two years, shut up.”

Wooyoung raises his arms in defense, lips tucked between his teeth to stop himself from giggling. San still looks surprised, cheeks pink, jaw slack and eyes wide, “I– I don’t know why I’m so shocked that you admitted that so easily.”

“You’re acting like I’ve never had a boyfriend before,” you close the clasp on your purse, “I may have not fucked in two years but I’ve fucked plenty.” Looking at Wooyoung again, you ask, “Can I wear your Chrome Hearts jacket? The leather one?”

Wooyoung nods with his face scrunched like it was no biggie before asking, “So are we expecting you home tonight or what?”

“Why are you being so adamant about this?” Your eyes bounce between them, lingering on San’s cheeks that deepen by the minute, “I don’t know yet, jeez. What time is it?”

San scrambles for his phone, “He’ll be here in ten.”

As if Yunho himself was in your bedroom with the three of you, the doorbell rang. Your eyes widen, “Shit, he’s early.”

“We’ll distract him,” Wooyoung grabs your waist to move you to the side as he stands, rushing out of your room to greet Yunho at the door. Sweetie jumps off the bed next, following him, probably thinking something exciting was happening, and San mimics the two as the third musketeer.

Your finishing touches, extra deodorant, more perfume for good luck, a little lip gloss, a few fluffs to your hair. You caught yourself in the mirror again before leaving, doing another three-sixty, viewing yourself from every angle possible without twisting into a pretzel. Scrunching your lips, you stare at your own face, something still didn’t feel right. You hated when your gut was telling you something, but didn’t say what it was.

The three are in the kitchen, four if you count Sweetie, mid-conversation as your heels announce your presence before you breathe a word. Meeting San’s eye and then Wooyoung’s, both stared at you in awe, affection sparkling in their dark eyes, like they’d never seen you so dressed up before. Sweetie is at Yunho’s feet, the six foot man crouched into a hunched-over ball, hands scratching the dog’s ears until he sees you. 

“Wow,” he stands, black slacks on his long legs, a cream-colored button up on his upper half, brown jacket thrown over his arm. Black hair styled and off his forehead, he looked clean, crisp, handsome. “You look beautiful.” 

Your face heats up, beaming as you say, “Thanks, you look handsome, too.”

Wooyoung giggles like a child, you snap your head to sneer at him, catching San who’s still staring at you fondly. They’re like your parents, chaperoning your first date like you’re a teenager. 

Wooyoung skirts around the kitchen island, “Your jacket, milady.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile apologetically at Yunho who looks amused as Wooyoung drapes the leather jacket over your shoulders. Yunho’s eye drops to the emblems on the sleeves as you slip your arms inside, the obvious Chrome Hearts crosses, the jacket Wooyoung paid an arm and a leg for. His eyes flicker before rising back to your gaze, face unreadable for a moment before he slaps the bright smile back on his cheeks. 

“Ready?” He asks after you pull your hair out from beneath the collar. 

Nodding, you murmur, “Yeah, ‘m ready.”

San and Wooyoung stay tucked into each other, watching like proud mothers as you wave your goodbye, wiggling your eyebrows. You blow a final kiss to Sweetie before you’re out the door, in the open air of an unforgiving February night, Yunho’s car parked directly next to yours. He opens the door for you, closes it behind you, and he’s in the driver’s seat in a flash. 

“How are you?” He asks as he clasps his seatbelt and immediately you’re filled with the ick of inevitable awkwardness. You hated small talk, you hated this feeling, of a new relationship budding, of not automatically being at the oversharing-because-I-can stage. 

But you respond politely, with a smile on your face that he couldn’t see through, all the way to the fucking restaurant. A nice place, moody lighting, an obvious date night spot. Your table is off to the side, against the beige-colored wall, more private than the center of the restaurant, thankfully. The air between you is a little more congenial by the time you’ve had a quarter of your fruity cocktail and there’s food placed at the center of the white tablecloth.

“I love my kids,” you shake your head, swallowing down a bite of the appetizer he ordered, “they’re all great kids, it’s the parents that make me want to rip my hair out.”

Yunho laughs, an easygoing thing, and you smile when it reaches your ears. “They’re all bad?”

“Not all of them,” you respond, words practiced, almost scripted, at the point in date talk where you were discussing what you do for a living. Next comes future talk, if this went anything like the dates you’ve been on in the past did. “Just the ones that nitpick everything I do, like they have any idea what they’re talking about.”

Yunho nods, “It’s like that at my job, too. But not with parents, with clients, the ones who talk about artwork like it means something to them. I know they just think it looks cool and they want it on their wall, but that’s enough, I mean, leave it at that. I understand not everyone is a connoisseur.”

Your grin widens, a giggle falling past your lips as you bring your glass up to catch it. You have to give it to him, he’s funny, but not as funny as Wooyoung. He doesn’t look at you the way San looks at you, either. 

By the time you’re halfway through your entree you know you aren’t going home with him. You could possibly see him again, depending on how the second half of your entree goes, but the need to see him naked on top of you isn’t quite there. A sweet guy, heart of gold, you know he’s a genuine friend, you’ve had plenty of conversations with him before at your apartment during gatherings to know enough about his nature. But romantically, sexually, there isn’t a spark in your veins, a sizzling to your blood, a dampening in your panties that makes you want more. 

He’s a great guy– but he’s not for you. 

“Can I ask you something?” Now a singular piece of chocolate cake between you accompanied by two silver forks, you nod as you dig the prongs into the triangular edge. 

“Your jacket,” he raises his perfectly trimmed brows to the leather that hangs off the back of your chair, “it’s Wooyoung’s?” 

“Definitely,” you nod furiously, without missing a beat, “you know him and Chrome Hearts are in a very serious, very committed relationship.” The smile Yunho gives you in response doesn’t completely reach his eyes. You pop a brow, “Why?” 

His fork dances around the plate, “I don’t know.” Setting it down softly, he leans back in the upholstered chair, “wearing his jacket on a first date, when he’s the one who set us up. I don’t know.” 

Your head tilts, heat flooding you, the nervous kind. Confusion bites at the corners of your eyes as you blink at him, “What do you mean?” 

“Can I be frank?” 

“I’m pretty sure you’re Yunho, but sure.” 

Amusement huffs from his nose, but he doesn’t exactly smile. “Is there anything going on between you?” 

You pause, mid-bite, cake millimeters from touching your tongue. Body going hot, your arm lowers slowly, “Between who?”

“Between you and Wooyoung. You and San. Both of them, I don’t know.” 

Your brows shoot upward, jaw dropping, “What the fuck?” Looking around, noticing the eyes on you, you cover your mouth with your hand. You didn’t realize the volume you cursed at— you mumble an I’m sorry sheepishly to the room around you. 

“I’m serious,” Yunho leans forward again, and his eyes are so genuine it throws you for a loop. You knew your friendship with the pair was closer than the typical, a little strange at times, with the flirting and the touching and the looks. You knew how you felt about your roommates, your best friends, how there’s a certain depth in the way they treat you, love and respect too raw to be faked, how it always makes your stomach pang with gratitude too deep to express. 

“No, Yunho.” You shake your head, fork landing on the small, ceramic plate. The words are short, not necessarily offended, but it’s clear the question didn’t sit well. Your relationship with the two men, both a third of your being, is completely platonic. 

Did it really seem like it wasn’t?

“I’m sorry,” he shakes his head, eyes squeezed tight, regret oozing off of him. “I don’t know why I asked you that, I’m so sorry.” 

“It’s okay,” you try to laugh to ease the tension, but it comes off demeaning. Yunho stiffens, hands coming up to dig the pads of his fingers into his eyes. “I’m serious, it’s fine. I know we’re a little closer than your average roommates, but we don’t fuck.” 

You could feel eyes in the room on you again, this time you ignore them. Yunho’s hands leave his face, eyes cracking open, words escaping from his lips too quickly to have been thought about first, “You never have? Not even with Sannie?” 

“Not even with Sannie, no. I haven’t seen him naked since we were seven, we’ve never once kissed, nothing.” 

Lies. Lies, lies, lies. You don’t know why they spill from your lips like a waterfall, like you had to defend yourself. Maybe you were trying to convince yourself more than Yunho. 

His brow pops like he asked the question just to receive your deception, “That’s not true.” 

Taking you by complete surprise, your heart plummets, sputtering, “O-okay, well—”

How did he know? He shouldn’t know about your times in college, Sannie throwing you around the mattress with a boy from your English class. Or the handful of times with the girl from your contemporary dance class. Or the times you’ve been each other’s New Year's Kiss, or the times you’ve messily made out in the corner of a frat house after he finished a keg-stand. It was all platonic, anyhow, so whittled down to ancient history it wasn’t even worth bringing up. 

“Why lie if you aren’t doing it still?” 

Your eyes widen. You don’t know why you lied. You weren’t expecting him to catch you in it. Your ears are on fire. 

“I’m not lying!” It comes out louder than intended, too defensive, too full of quickly found, nervous anger. If you were honest with yourself, you thought about ancient history often, you thought about what it would have been like with Wooyoung involved too, yours and San’s missing link. A line you haven’t crossed. You and San haven’t touched each other since you were twenty-one. 

But you still think about it. More than you should. 

You empty a much needed breath, one heavy and long. You ignore the stares of the people around you. You try not to let Yunho’s gaze be patronizing. You try not to feel the embarrassment radiating off of him. 

“I’m sorry,” you mutter, head dropping down until your chin is tucked. “I don’t know where that came from.” 

“I do,” Yunho says quietly, almost shakily, like he’s scared of saying the words that follow. “You and them… you want it, don’t you?” 

“We’re just friends,” you nearly whisper, an unexplainable tightness in your chest. “Roommates,” you add, and it sounds like an insult. 

He lays an open palm on the table, and you pick your head up to meet his soft smile, eyes full of sadness, pity. You take his hand anyway. 

“You should really tell them how you feel so this doesn’t happen again.” 

How you feel? How you feel? 

You don’t even know how you feel. You have memories that linger, a soft spot for the two men you spend all your time with that was the size of a crater. You have touches, eyes, words you weren’t sure should mean more than they do. You have emotions, you have a fantasy you keep buried, you have a secret that would shatter you if it ever saw the light of day.

That line hung over your head the entire drive home. Yunho paid the bill, much to your dismay, you definitely didn’t give him the best date of his life, but your argument was cut short by the reminder that you had bigger fish to fry. You needed the brain power for the thoughts that’d keep you awake tonight, while your roommates were fast asleep in their rooms, unaware that you were pondering about the possibility of them ever being more. 

Yunho parked beside your car again. Turning towards you, keeping the car running, he said, “I won’t say anything about tonight.”

“Thanks,” you mutter in a breath, “I’m sorry again.” 

“Don’t be,” Yunho shakes his head, laying a hand on your thigh to squeeze it encouragingly, “I hope it works out for you.” 

Giving him a weak smile, you unbuckle your seatbelt and let yourself out of the car, the stupid fucking heels on your feet clacking against the pavement. “Drive safe,” you say before closing the door behind you, and Yunho nods with a warm smile. 

You face your apartment building with a pout. That could not have gone any fucking worse, and those two upstairs are going to do nothing but pester you for every single detail. Forcing a breath through your lips, you walk up the stone steps to your front door, bracing yourself for questions you can’t answer as you push it open. 

The apartment was quiet, lights dim, you slipped your heels off upon entering, dangling them from your fingers. Sweetie didn’t greet you, very unlike him, but maybe he was asleep at this hour— with the frenzy in your mind you didn't realize it wasn’t late at all. You took the corner around your foyer to reach the living room, and the sight before you had a shriek ripping from your chest, eyes blowing wide, heart positively dropping into your ass. 

On your living room couch, brown leather, wrinkled and weathered from years of use, was Wooyoung, shirtless, lip locked with a shirtless San beneath him. Bronzy, sculpted chests pressed together, veiny hands in dark hair, spit-stained lips messily tangled, Wooyoung’s toned hips were rutting against San’s before your shriek bursted their bubble. 

They broke apart like teenagers getting caught, Wooyoung so surprised he launched off of San’s lap and onto the fucking floor. “Shy!” San yelped, as shocked as you are, gaze panic-stricken as it bounced between you and Wooyoung, he stood up instinctively. 

Your insides felt like weeds. Tangled up, knotted together beyond belief, the air in your lungs was gone, there wasn’t enough oxygen in the closing room to fill them. You stared as Wooyoung blew his hair off his face, leaning back on his elbows on the floor, legs bent up and spread, denim unzipped, sporting a tent in the pocket of his undone fly. 

San was no better. Undeniably hard, droplets of wetness on his low hanging gray sweats, skin red and splotchy, glowing with a sheer sheen of sweat. His hair was fucked up, as was Wooyoung’s, sticking out in every direction, curled where fingers had been rooted. 

Wooyoung’s lips curled in a lazy grin, “You’re home early.” 

Your hands are shaking. You think if you take one step, your knees will buckle. This feels like betrayal. Your skin is fire-hot, body buzzing with confusion, shock, rage, hurt— you were out on a date they set up for you, while they were at home fucking?! Did they just want you out of the apartment for the night? How long have they been hooking up?

You can hear your heart pounding in your ears, you can feel every ounce of blood thrashing beneath your skin like your heart was the eye of a hurricane. 

Your vision blurs, words coming out short, “I-I don’t—” shaking your head, you move in the direction of your bedroom. Sweetie’s at your side, you don’t know where he even came from, you don’t have the heart to greet him. Under your breath you mutter, “I’m going to bed.” 

“Shy,” San calls after you, his voice strained. A little louder, a little harsher, he tries again, “Shy!”

You close your bedroom door and flatten your back against it, breath leaving you in tremors, palms shaky against the wood behind you. Sweetie is at your feet, dancing on his paws, whimpering for some form of attention from you, sensing all the emotion in your chest. 

You sink down until your ass meets the floor, eyes focused on nothing, hands mindlessly reaching for Sweetie as your brain replays everything you just saw. Wooyoung’s back arching his chest into San’s, San’s tongue slipping between Wooyoung’s lips, one hand on Wooyoung’s thigh while the other tugged at his hair. Wooyoung’s hips rolling against him, his eyebrows furrowed in pleasure, a shakiness to his lean body that could only be perceived as need. This was not the first time they’ve done that. 

Your chin tilts upward as Sweetie licks your cheeks, you didn’t realize silent tears poured down them, dripping from your jaw. You couldn’t deny it now— everything Yunho insinuated, everything he said, how witnessing those two together made you feel. You wanted them. You wanted to be in the middle. You wanted their lips and hands on you just as much as you wanted to watch them touch each other. 

Fuck. 

You can’t pretend like your feelings don’t exist anymore. Half the reason you didn’t want to go tonight was because you wished they were taking you out, instead. You wished they begged you to stay home, with them, watching movies curled up on the couch, just to end up how they did without you. Without you. There wasn’t any room for you, they had a relationship on their own. They left you out of it. They set you up with someone else so they could have each other. 

It hurts like a knife to your gut. 

You can hear them whispering through the walls. You can’t make out a word, but they sound like they’re arguing, or debating. Then it’s quiet. 

Sweetie whimpers again. You pouted at him, his precious face seemed like it was pouting back at you. “It’s okay,” you reassure the puppy, hands cupping his face, scratching behind his ears, “I’m okay, I promise.” 

Wiping your tears, heaving a breath, you push yourself up, leaving your heels thrown beside the door where you dropped them. You tug the leather off your shoulders, hanging it in your closet— you didn’t have the heart to give it back to him right now, but it was too expensive to throw haphazardly on your gaming chair. 

After pulling out pajamas, you reached for your zipper, but you couldn’t reach it to get it down. You tried again, folding your arms behind you, fingers touching, zipper out of reach. You curse under your breath, shoulders strained, it hurt, your breathing picks up again in frustration. 

Sweetie jumps on your bed, watching you. It seemed he felt pity for you, too, sitting on his back legs, head tilted as watches how pathetic you looked— the tears bubbled up again. 

San knocks on your door twice. You know it’s him because the knocks are soft, gentle, Wooyoung would have just barged inside after a slew of obnoxious knocks of his knuckles. You didn’t want to see either of them right now. 

“Let me get your zipper.” 

Your arms unfold from your back, hands planting against the mattress beside Sweetie, head dropping as a defeated sob silently rips from your throat. The black lab’s nose nuzzles in your hair as you force the tears back in, back down, away. 

San opens the door without waiting for your response. You can’t see him eye the pair of heels on your floor, picking them up, placing them in front of your wide closet, you keep your eyes on the white comforter, laser focused on keeping your emotion locked up. On silent feet he comes up behind you, moving your hair out of the way, deft fingers slowly pulling your zipper down your back. 

“Do you want to talk about it?” His voice is as soft as his movements, tender, like if he spoke the wrong word you’d crumble in his hands. You shake your head, sniffing. His sigh is light, apologetic, “We didn’t think you’d be home so early.” 

“It’s okay, I’m fine. The date just didn’t go as planned,” your voice is nasally from how much snot had formed in your sinuses. You wipe your nose with the back of your hand, standing up, turning to look at him. Still shirtless, skin still red and splotchy, the only difference now was that his face was filled with concern instead of shock. “I’m sorry I broke up your date night.” 

He shakes his head fervently, “You didn’t break up anything, Shygirl, what happened on your date? You didn’t like Yunho? Are you okay? Did he do anything—”

A sharp chuckle tumbles past your lips, you look off to the side, shaking your head. “I don’t wanna talk about it, I just wanna go to sleep.” 

You can feel the cool air of your bedroom on your bare back. You feel exposed, despite being naked in front of him so many times in your life, despite standing before him in a bra and underwear just hours earlier. You cross your arms over your chest. “Go back to Wooyoung.” 

His lips tighten, but he nods, eyes searching your face for something he can’t find. It’s clear he doesn’t know what to do. 

“We’ll talk about it tomorrow, okay?” 

You nod, looking up at him just as another hot tear slips down your cheek. He raises a hand to cup your cheek, to wipe your tear away with his thumb, but you pull away. His eyes widen ever so slightly, you’ve never once pulled away from his touch. He doesn’t press it, instead he turns on his heel, leaving your room, closing the door behind him gently, knowing space was what you needed, even if he wished you needed him. 

You felt better in comfy clothes, curled up in your bed, Sweetie snoring softly beside you, his head basically on your pillow. You tried to focus on that, how his shiny black coat rose and fell with each breath, how he stayed by your side because he knew you needed comfort. Your brain was too muddled to pick apart each and every emotion you were feeling, there were too many, too blended together. 

But you definitely tried, for each hour you were supposed to be asleep. 

The studio is quiet.

Rehearsal finished for the night, all of your kids home by now, probably doing last-minute homework or showering before school tomorrow, you don’t know what you’re still doing here. The floors are mopped, the mirrors wiped down, the speaker is off and plugged in, your laptop and charger tucked away in your tote. Sitting on the floor of your studio, criss-cross-applesauce, you leaned back on your palms, chin tipped up to the ceiling. 

It’s been a week since you found out your two best friends, your roommates, the two people you now know you’re in love with, are in a relationship. You truly have no idea how you got away from their barrage of questions unscathed, the two men want to know every detail of your life on a regular Tuesday, let alone when you come home crying after a date. You put your deceptive shoes on, straightened your back, and blamed every single one of your tears on how sad you were about it not working out with Yunho. 

Truth was, you haven’t spared the date with Yunho a single thought since you came home to see them making out on the couch. Since then, it’s been a constant fight convincing yourself everything was fine. In reality, everything was fine, you’re healthy, you’re stable, you have a puppy at home that still pees a little out of excitement when you walk through the front door. 

You just couldn’t have what you wanted most, and you’re not a child anymore. Wooyoung and San seem so happy together, attached at the hip, pressing soft kisses to each other’s lips randomly, giggling at something the other said, so lovesick and ignorant to how shitty it all made you feel, you couldn’t be mad. You tried your hardest not to be upset. 

As if you’ve been onstage for a week now, it’s felt like seven days of constant performance. Wearing the mask, playing the part of a perfectly-okay-girl, not letting them peer inside to see your heart shredded beneath your ribs. There was still a part of you that was disappointed they couldn’t see through the charade, they knew you better than anyone else, too occupied with one another to make an effort in seeing the truth. 

“What are you still doing here?”

You picked your head up, wide-eyed as you glanced at Wooyoung in the doorway, holding a silver ring of multi-colored keys around his pointer finger. Gray sweats, hoodie on top, a black puffer layered over it, sneakers on his feet half-tied. His hair laid messy over his cheekbones, forced down flat beneath the deep red hood, the color compliments him. You think every color in his closet compliments him. 

“Hello? Shygirl?” He’s smiling now, taking a few steps inside the studio, eyes raking over your frozen form. He pushes the ring of keys inside the pocket of his puffer as he gets closer, bending down at the knees, the backs of his thighs tucked to his calves. 

“Just thinkin’,” you smile weakly, head rolling to the side, cheek landing on your shoulder. He’s so pretty, barefaced, skin clear and soft and beautiful. Shadowed beneath his hood he looks even more breathtaking, the hollows of his cheeks prominent, the freckle under his eye appearing darker. 

With a heavy breath he leans backward, landing on his ass, arms stretched out behind him, mimicking the same way you sat. His legs longer than yours, they straighten out in front of him, feet tangled between where yours sat strategically. Always close, never close enough. 

“About what?” He tilts his head. “Competition?”

Yeah, that sounds good enough. You nod and he begins his encouraging monologue all over again, softness in his tone, a determined edge of confidence, you’ve heard it all before. You didn’t care to listen to the details. 

“Okay, be serious, what’s up?” He reigns in his knees, wrapping his arms around them, leaning forward, brows furrowed. “You’ve been off all week, Shy. I know it’s not dance-related.”

You give him a weak, disappointed smile, shaking your head. The worst, shittiest excuse comes to mind, but you’d rather use any excuse than tell him why shrapnel floated through your blood, pieces of your heart that shattered beyond repair a week ago. “I’m just getting my period, I’m in my head, that’s all.”

He pouts, “You swear?”

You nod, eyes heavy, “I swear.”

It doesn’t even feel bad to lie. Maybe you’re tired of wearing the mask. Tired of feeling.

“Wanna dance with me?”

Your eyes flicker up to him, a question in your lifted brow. “Dance?”

His grin has turned mischievous, lopsided eyes thinning with the giddiness on his cheeks, he plants his palms on the floor to push himself up, throwing his puffer to the side as he walks to the speaker in the corner of the room. Turning it on, static catching as he plugged in his phone, he looked over his shoulder to ask, “What song?”

“Woo,” you shake your head, “I don’t want to–”

“Come on,” he looks back at his phone screen, you can only assume he’s scrolling through his liked songs on Spotify, “your endorphins are in jail right now, they need to be released.”

Your lips tighten, he leaves no room to argue. He never does. 

Ain't another woman that can take your spot, my…

He turns with the same feline grin as bass pounds through the room. He turned the volume up on the speaker, the building empty, no one lingering around to hear it. 

Your brows raise, a smile begging to curve your lips, “Justin Timberlake? Really?”

“Get up!” He yells, chest pumping to each beat, limbs fluid as his feet glide in your direction, “It’s just you and me, Shy-Shy. Come on.”

You push yourself up off the marley flooring reluctantly, and then you hear his voice. 

“If I wrote you a symphony, just to say how much you mean to me,” he grabs your hands as soon as you get your footing, a scowl on your face as he pulls you towards him, “If I told you you were beautiful, would you date me on the regular?”

You can’t fight the smile that creeps over your cheeks this time, letting him guide you to the center of the room, still fighting your instinct that begs your body to move to the beat of the song. Bodies facing the mirror that stretches from one wall to the other, he glides behind you, his right hand still over yours, freeing your left.

“I can see us holdin' hands, walkin' on the beach, our toes in the sand. I can see us on the country side, sittin' on the grass, layin' side by side,” still holding your hand, you sing with him as he guides you, his left hand on your hip. “You can be my baby, let me make you my lady, girl, you amaze me. Ain't gotta do nothin' crazy, see, all I want you to do is be my love.”

You’re giggling at first, moving with him, singing loudly in the studio, until he spins you around, two hands on your hips, holding you close. 

Ain't another woman that could take your spot, my love…

Your smile falters, lips parting as you stare up at him, breath stolen from your chest. His hoodie had fallen, leaving his hair visibly messy over his face, a smile so true, chocolate eyes holding half of your heart, you remember who he is. Jung Wooyoung, roommate, best friend, coworker, he’s so many things to you, but not yours. 

Is this some kind of sick joke?

Like he can read your thoughts, like he’s trying to make you forget, he twists you back around. Two hands on your hips, knees bent and legs spread, you follow suit, watching each other in the mirror. Your outfits look planned, your sweats baggy and low, hoodie tucked up, hair that was once in a bun now halfway spilling down your cheeks, you let your body flow. Allowing your mind to go blank, you let yourself feel the music, your hips sway with his, your movements clean, you dance together like you choreographed it. 

“There you go,” he’s grinning again, nodding, encouraging, “my love, my love, my love.”

Four minutes and thirty-six seconds feels like a lifetime, yet no time at all. You and Wooyoung, your bluetoothed brains, and Justin Timberlake in the studio nearing eleven at night, you ended the song out of breath, staring at each other from feet away, as if you’re twenty-five all over again when San had just opened the studio. Brain cleared, endorphins released, you did feel lighter– not better, but lighter, like Wooyoung reached into your mind and took the edge off himself. 

“Feel better?” He’s smiling, chest heaving, hands on his hips, one knee bent with the other holding his weight. 

You nod, tugging on your ponytail to free your hair, just to pull it up all over again. Walking toward him, you’re still out of breath, “We should have recorded that.”

“We can do it again,” he offers, “although I don’t think we’ll ever reach that level of synchronicity without choreography again.”

You laugh, a lighthearted thing, “No, I think that was the extent of our bluetooth abilities.”

He takes a step forward, throwing his arms out to wrap around you, pulling you into his chest, pressing a kiss into your forehead. “I missed dancing with you.”

He smells like home, woodsy, spicy, sweaty– you can’t help the way you drink him in, letting the smell of him calm something primal, something integral in your soul. 

Wooyoung is convinced you’re the only person in the world that can steal the breath from his lungs just by looking at him. Your arms wrapped around his torso, chin tucked into his chest, looking up at him with those big eyes he could get lost in, his breath catching in his throat is a verbal sound. He can feel the heat in the base of his spine, he settles into your touch as it spreads through him like wildfire, his heart picking up speed, pounding harder against his chest.

Holding you like this, wanting you like this, like he has since the day he first saw you– around a fire, in the backyard of a house party at Seonghwa’s place, sat next to San with a cute, shy little smile on your cheeks. He thought you were San’s girlfriend, he assumed it from the way you looked at each other, spoke to each other. Stars in your eyes, a soft, comforting tenderness in your voice that turned your words into song, Wooyoung thought he’d lost before he even entered the game.

But then he watched San leave your side for the pretty brunette from his dance class, the guy Wooyoung kept his eye on, taller than San, muscular, beautiful. Mere minutes went by before San kissed him, and even if San was shorter, smaller, Wooyoung watched as he dominated the kiss, hands in his hair, making the taller man cower for him. Obey him, even just in a kiss. 

Then you stood, sauntering over in your ripped denim that hugged your ass perfectly, one hand on San’s shoulder had him pulling away fully, dimples out in a smile, face flushed with a hazy, lustful stare. You talked, talked, and talked before San was grabbing you by the hand, the man following behind you both as you left. The three of you, together, you left together.

Wooyoung was left confused– aroused, curious, hopeful, but still so fucking confused. He asked around, Yeosang told him the nature of your relationship, that San’s known you forever, that you do that sometimes. Casually. You weren’t dating– but you fucked. Other people. Together. 

Wooyoung wanted to be next. 

He wanted you. He wanted San. He wanted both of you. Carnally. 

But that day never came. He formed a friendship with you easily, with San easily, the three of you becoming a trio that did everything together, but your hobby, your past-time after a party, never included him. In fact, it stopped altogether when Wooyoung became involved.

It’s not like he didn’t try, he’s flirty by nature, it comes as easily to him as breathing, but eventually he accepted that your relationship, your friendship, had taken root in something platonic. It bloomed into the best thing that’s ever happened to him, two people that love him fully, unconditionally, but by the time he moved into your shared apartment, he had to pluck the petals off the basis of his interest– his arousal, his want, his need, tucked away in his back pocket like it was never there to begin with. 

It became easy, over time, until San kissed him for the first time, restarting all the work he’s done, placing him back at square one. Three in the morning in the kitchen of the apartment, the only light over the sink, dimmed and low, San took Wooyoung by his cheeks and made him feel like San wanted him the whole time, too. 

And he did, Wooyoung learned. And he still wanted you. So did Wooyoung. 

“I missed it, too,” you whisper, your face too close, he has to swallow down his instinct, every fiber of his being that tells him to fucking kiss you. Dancing with you, it’s something the two of you used to do often when San first opened the studio, when you weren’t as busy, as successful as you are now. 

Sometimes San was included, in the corner of the room, correcting your form with a smile on his dimpled cheeks, amusement on his tongue, sometimes he was dancing with you, too. Late into the night, sometimes a few seltzers added into the mix, those nights Wooyoung could have sworn there was an understanding between the three of you, that there was a layer of arousal, of want, those nights Wooyoung prayed to a god he didn’t believe in that you’d repeat history with him. For him. The way you looked at him, the glint in your eye, even now, more often than not you looked at Wooyoung like you wanted him to pin you to the floor beneath you. 

For years that look has given him hope, that eventually something will happen, something will bloom between the three of you. It won’t just be him and San pining over you while they try to fill the gap with each other.

He hasn’t seen that look once since you caught him with San. You said you were fine, okay, that their relationship doesn’t bother you, that you’re happy for them– and there’s truth to it somewhere, Wooyoung assumes the truth is mixed into the lies, that you weren’t completely bullshitting him, the only reason they tried to set you up with Yunho is because they were convinced it’d never happen with you. They gave up. At least Yunho was a nice guy. 

His arms lift from your shoulders to push your hair away from your face, stray pieces that had fallen even if you’d just put it up, barefaced, maybe some mascara on your lashes, he’s stunned the way he always is. So beautiful it makes his stomach hurt, your skin soft in his palms, warm in such an inviting way, he doesn’t want to let go. His voice tumbles out small, “You’re so pretty, Shy.”

Your heart skips a beat in your chest. His eyes look so soft, a fond smile on his lips while his eyes glance at yours like he was going to kiss you, while he looks at you like he loves you, he does love you–  it’s different. It looks different. Chest turning tight, stomach doing a flip, your arms uncurl from around his waist, you break away from him quickly like he burned you, the loss of warmth hits hard even if you were the one who enforced it. “You shouldn’t do that,” your tone comes out harsher than you wanted it to, voice slightly broken, stressed. Panicked. 

Wooyoung’s brows furrow, “What? I- Shy.”

“It’s disrespectful,” you don’t know why you’re speaking, where this is coming from. Your throat is tight, heart pounding against your breastplate, you bring your hand up to lay where it’s bursting from your chest. “You can’t do things like that anymore, Woo,” you’re avoiding his eye, head shaking rapidly, voice panicked and wary beyond control, “not anymore.”

“I made her hate me because I couldn’t control myself.”

Wooyoung is pacing around San’s room, shirtless, his hair sticking out in every which way atop his head, oily after work, even more so from how many times he’s ran his hands through it. San, on his bed, also shirtless, briefs loose on his hips, wears furrowed brows and a solemn downcurve of his lips after hearing the story Wooyoung frantically woke him up to tell him. 

The younger man ripped his hoodie and his tee off his upper half upon entering the room, crawling onto San’s bed, shaking him awake. Eyes barely closed, he’d just fallen asleep, blinked awake upon the first shake of his shoulders, “Woo? What’s wrong? Are you okay?”

“I think Shy hates me,” his face was red even in San’s dark room, brows furrowed and voice panicked in a way he hadn't heard in a long time. 

San sits up halfway, turning over to face Wooyoung, “What? No she doesn’t, what happened?”

“We were at the studio, we danced, I called her pretty and she freaked out,” Wooyoung sits back, his breaths quick and uneven between his words, he toys with his fingers in his lap, eyes wide, blinking rapidly. “She called me disrespectful, Sannie, she said I can’t do that anymore, I don’t know what happened San, I–”

“Baby,” San reaches to put a hand on his cheek, taking note of how hot he felt, “calm down, breathe. Don’t say anything, breathe with me for a few and then we can talk, okay?”

Wooyoung’s first breath is shaky, panicked, like he couldn’t suck down air fast enough, couldn’t get it deep enough. San sits up fully, pressing a hand onto his diaphragm, keeping the other soft on his cheek, “Breathe, baby.”

A few counted breaths until he sounded even, one singular hot tear rolling down his cheek onto San’s palm, the older man leaned forward to press a kiss to his lips. “No matter what, she doesn’t hate you, okay? Tell me what happened.”

Wooyoung takes another two breaths before speaking, telling him the story from the start. How you looked at him like you were offended, like he’d just done the worst thing in the world, how you didn’t speak to him the entire subway ride home. How when you walked inside the apartment you barely greeted Sweetie, instead you silently gave him a treat from the counter before bringing him to your room, closing the door behind you. You didn’t even look at him, like he wasn’t beside you the whole time. 

Mid-story he’d jumped off the bed, began pacing back and forth on San’s carpeted bedroom floor, speaking a mile a minute, each word edged with panic like he’d done something despicable. 

“She hates me,” he finally stood in the middle of the room, voice cracking, “I made her hate me because I couldn’t control myself.”

“No, Woo,” San shakes his head, voice soft and comforting, “knowing her, she thinks our dynamic changed. To her, we’re off-limits now, we can’t act the way we always have, can’t flirt and touch and do all the things that make us, us.”

He starts pacing again, hands running through his hair, tugging at his roots. San can barely see more than his shadow in his dark room, but he doesn’t need to see to know what look is on Wooyoung’s face, how his brows tie together, how he tucks his lips together, face splotched red. 

“I don’t want that!” Wooyoung keeps his voice a low cry, “I don’t want us to change. This isn’t what I wanted to happen, I want her to want us, I want her.”

“Come here,” San keeps his voice calm, steady. Wooyoung walks over, standing between San’s legs, one of his hands still in his hair. San leans forward, plants his palms on Wooyoung’s hips, “She has no idea how we feel about her, Woo. She’s trying to be fair, to keep her distance so she doesn’t hurt either of us. You know how her head works, baby.”

“What if she doesn’t forgive me?” The way his voice breaks is like a shot through San’s heart. But San knows you better, he knows your mind, knows your soul, he’s known you since you gained consciousness, he’s watched them form, learned you as you grew.

“There’s nothing to forgive you for, baby,” San whispers, tugging the younger man towards him, forcing his knees onto the bed, to bracket around his hips. He brings a hand up, petting his hair, sliding down to cup Wooyoung’s cheek, bringing him closer, “Everything is okay.”

Wooyoung presses his lips into San’s, hands landing on his broad shoulders, his body melting into San’s touch, finding comfort in his hard, broad body, his own sinking into him. Wooyoung’s hands travel to find his neck, his cheeks, deepening the kiss, his tongue poking out to slide into San’s mouth, still light, steady. 

Until San’s length twitches under Wooyoung, making the younger man smile into his mouth, “Yeah? Hard already?”

“Don’t tease me,” San is breathless, their lips still touching, “I’m supposed to be making you feel better.”

“Ah,” Wooyoung’s tone is still teasing, his grin spreading into a smirk, “I know how you can make me feel better.”

San snorts, head tipping back until he falls back onto the bed, letting Wooyoung crawl on top of him, his head tilting as Wooyoung leans his head down, pressing a kiss to one of San’s pecs, soft hands roaming his torso. Body shivering, San keeps his voice light, “Did you freak out just to fuck me? A ploy, huh?”

San can make the outline of Wooyoung’s scowl as he stares up at him, making San chuckle, Wooyoung bites down on his skin and he hisses. “I was stressed,” Wooyoung’s voice is sharp, “I still am stressed, but now I’m kinda horny and it’s your fault.”

San laughs again, hands coming up to tangle in Wooyoung’s hair, pulling him upward, “I’m sorry baby, I'll fix it for you, yeah?”

Thirty minutes rolling around in the sheets, keeping their voices quiet, their movements slow but not any less tantalizing, Wooyoung is filled, sated, skin sticky against San’s as he lays on the older man’s chest, dozing off to the sound of his heartbeat. 

Despite being woken up by Wooyoung, it’s harder for San to find sleep now, mind muddled with thoughts about you. Analyzing Wooyoung’s story, the details, how you looked at him– he wondered if there was a small chance you felt the same way towards them. 

While you were still in college, you and San had moments where lines blurred, he can still remember the nights where you brought someone home just to barely touch them. So wrapped up in each other, lost in pleasure, you almost forgot there was a third person there to play with. It didn’t just happen once, not even twice, it happened enough times to where you had to stop after the third person left angry and unsatisfied, an unsettling feeling floating around the room that neither of you had the balls to address. 

Always light, always casual, you explored pleasure together, different positions, different kinks, different dynamics for so long– he blamed those days on you two being young, horny, rabid animals, looking for a good fuck, a new skill to add to your arsenal. It was around the time you two met Wooyoung, San thinks, when that night happened, the last time you touched each other sexually. Still to this day, unspoken, swept beneath the rug. 

San sometimes wonders if the lines blurred sooner, he’s loved you since you were young, in high school even, it’s petrified him since he was a teenager to tell you how he feels. What if you don’t feel the same way? What if he told you, and your friendship ended? He couldn’t bear a life without you, he doesn’t know a life without you. 

Maybe he figured one day his feelings would dissipate into thin air, that he didn’t need you to love him back, that as long as he never told you, you’d still be friends. But then you fucked. And then you fucked again. And you kept fucking until San realized he’d never be satisfied with anyone else, that he needed you, he needed you to love him back, he needed to treat you how you deserved. 

 When you stared at him with wide eyes, crawled off the bed with shaky legs, retreating back to your room without a word, San almost laughed at himself. At his feelings. Because why would you ever love him back? He's watched you grow up, each phase, your best and your worst, that’s friend zone material, at least in his younger, twenty-something year old mind. 

But you never grew apart. And after the fucking stopped, the makeouts, the lazy hookups, the people you both thought were sexy and sought out together, it seemed to have added yet another layer of strength to your relationship. Vulnerability. A closeness you should never, ever have with a friend as close as you two are, it never ends well. 

Years later, still in the same boat. He still loves you the same. He still wants you the same. Somehow he got comfortable without the intimacy— or without the sexual aspect, he should say, because your relationship was full of intimacy. It never really bothered him, he never really yearned for more, until it was three in the morning and he had his fist wrapped around his cock with only you in his mind. 

Then he had Wooyoung, the sole person he’s entrusted with his feelings, sputtering words between Wooyoung’s tongue pushing between his lips, so obviously confessing feelings that he’s kept trapped inside for over a decade, just to find out Wooyoung feels the same way. That he’s also wanted you since he laid eyes on you. 

It was confusing, the lack of possession, of jealousy in his gut. He already knew he wanted Wooyoung, living with the younger man only made him love him more, their friendship was already blurring lines the day they met. For awhile San thought maybe you felt it too, that maybe you saw how Wooyoung looked at you, maybe you realized San had never started treating you differently. That he loved you, that Wooyoung loved you, and it wasn’t all platonic. 

He wonders if you love them back. If there’s even a small, microscopic part of you that wants them, more than friendship, more than sex, even. Not that he’d decline you if you proposed sleeping together. For a week now, your spark’s been gone, the twinkle in your big, doe eyes you wear like an accessory was replaced with something dull, something sad. You blamed it on the date with Yunho— but was that really the truth? You barely told them any details, you kept it vague, you even blamed that on not wanting to think about it, talk about it. 

As he settles into the mattress beneath Wooyoung, one arm curled up to hold his head close to his chest, he wonders if you’re asleep in the other room, dreaming of more, too. 

“It’s fine,” you smile weakly at Wooyoung whose head is burrowing into your chest like he’d crawl inside and make a home there if you let him. “I’m sorry I gave you the silent treatment, I just freaked out a little.”

His voice is muffled by your hoodie, your chest that his head was buried in, “Don’t apologize, please don’t apologize to me, I’m the one who’s sorry.”

“Woo,” you forced out a chuckle, flexing your body on the old, brown leather couch that he was forcing you deeper into, “look at me.”

He picks his head up, his pretty, bronzy, bare face is littered by splotches of cherry. You ruffle his hair, smelling your shampoo, a blend of grapefruit and vanilla, “I’m not mad, it’s fine. Let’s just be done with it, put it past us, okay?”

Wooyoung pouts, but he nods, then lays back on your chest all over again. You groan, shifting your body to get comfortable under his weight, wondering how the fuck they were hooking up on this thing when you have to fight for your life to get comfortable on it.

“Sannie,” you shout into the open, living room air, “come get your boyfriend off of me!” 

Wooyoung gasps, picking his head up to shout towards the hallway, “Don’t! I’m exactly where I want to be.” 

Your head tips back in a laugh, knees bent up on either side of his body that’s dead weight on top of you, arms caging you in against the couch. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” 

“You’re warm, let me stay,” he nuzzles his head into your hoodie further, his voice a sated mumble. 

You smack your teeth, eyeing the pink princess blanket between your bodies, “You’re laying on top of the blanket and you don’t have clothes on.” 

Shirtless, briefs on his legs, he snickers, guilty as charged. “You’re the only heat I need, baby.” 

“Woo.” 

“Too soon?” He picks his head up, brows lifted and eyes apologetic, “I’m sorry.” 

San comes out of the hallway, fresh out of the shower, droplets of water sinking down his temples, onto his bare shoulders, his chest from his still-soaked hair. It makes your breath stutter in your chest the way it always does, he’s so effortlessly perfect it makes you miss touching him, feeling his soft skin beneath your fingers, sinking your nails into his strong, hard muscles. He smiles when he sees you, dimples prominent, he says nothing as he crosses the room with bare feet, nothing on his body but gray sweats on his legs. 

“Don’t you dare,” you warn, seeing the twinkle of mischief in his eye, how his grin turns from soft to playful. 

He ignores you by crawling onto the couch, shoving you into the back of it so he can take up the side, the couch just big enough to squeeze the three of you, only if San’s strength is on the outside to keep you boxed in.

You yelp as your body sinks into the couch, “San! I was comfortable.” 

“You’re only comfortable on the L part,” San quips, body nuzzling into yours, Wooyoung giggling from below you.  

“The chaise?” You snort, eyes flickering up to his that stare right back, “we’ve had two sectionals since we got this apartment, and you don’t know it’s called a chaise?” 

He giggles, “I don’t care what it’s called, I just know that you like it.” 

“And you only sit in the corner,” Wooyoung adds, his head sinking down to lay on your stomach. Your ankles cross over his back as his arms curl under yours, more comfortable now that you’re tangled, his arms taking pressure off your lower back. 

“Let’s stay like this forever,” San doesn’t give you time to answer, squeezing in closer, pushing you and Wooyoung further to the back of the couch. He smells like his bodywash, sweet and soft, you would stay forever if you could. 

Your voice comes out strangled under the pressure of his body, “We’re gonna have to, because soon I’ll be dead. You’re gonna kill me if you keep pushing me into the couch, Sannie.” 

“I just want to keep you here,” he pouts, squishing his face closer until his nose presses against your cheek, “if I let you go, you’ll run away.” 

His wet hair bleeds into the pillow, quickly spreading to where your head lays, it brushes against the side of your head the closer he gets, it’s cold. You squirm, “Your hair is freezing, Sannie, holy shit, there’s too much happening right now.” 

San whines, but he rolls off the couch, landing on one steady foot, standing up. You suck in a breath, but your pillow’s already soiled, you frown. He grins. 

“I’m going to the studio,” he says swiftly, “come with me, I have a few things to do before the day starts.”

You groan, lip lifting in protest, “I don’t have a rehearsal ‘til six.”

“Lucky,” Wooyoung mumbles, “Mine’s at four.”

“I know when yours is,” you mumble back, “I was gonna enjoy my alone time.”

“Freak,” San teases, a smile playing on his lips, amused at what he insinuated.

Wooyoung’s laugh is loud, piercing through the room, “That was a good one.”

Your brows raise, deadpanning, “And what if you’re right, hm? What then?”

They both turn to look at you, faces serious, both silently asking really?

It’s your turn to laugh, head tipping back into the pillow, and they both groan, San walking away, Wooyoung pushing off of you. It makes you laugh harder, talking through it, “Come on, that was a good one, you should have seen your faces.”

“Are you seriously not gonna come?” San, brows raised, asks from the entry to the hallway. “We can stop for food on the way, the three of us can hangout before everyone else shows up.”

You make a show of shaking your head back and forth, “I have shit to do here before work.”

Wooyoung smacks his teeth, “Like what? Laundry?”

You flatten your lips, “Have you seen the mountain of clothes in my room?”

San snorts, disappearing into the hallway, and Wooyoung finally climbs off the couch, “Fine, do your laundry, but I know you’ll miss us.”

“I’ll miss you so bad,” you’re wearing a smile now, watching him with lazy eyes as he follows behind San into the hallway, disappearing into the shadow of the walls. 

Your smile falters, settling, before a frown takes its place. Soon enough, probably sooner than you think, you’re sure you won’t be able to do this anymore– spend so much time with them, cuddle with them, live with them, eventually they’ll grow sick of you, they’ll only want each other. 

There’s already no room for you in their relationship, and with time, you’re sure the space they’ve carved out for you will dwindle to nothing. Looking across the room, you find Sweetie sunbathing beneath the window, his head politely tucked over his paws, the sun casting a shiny glow over his black coat, the sight makes you smile. You call him over and immediately he’s jumping onto the couch, laying on you where Wooyoung had just been, replacing the warmth he’d ripped away. 

“At least I have you,” you whisper, smiling, fingers scratching under his ears. 

“Yunho!” Wooyoung all but whispers, his loud voice carrying down the aisle, perking his tall friends’ ears. The older man whips his head around in confusion, smiling when he sees Wooyoung and San, giving them a small wave before walking down the aisle to greet them properly.

Stopping in a mid-sized corner store, the halfway point between the studio and home, San made good on his promise to pick up food on the way into work; Wooyoung was already giddy before seeing Yunho, this corner store was his favorite, it sold his favorite energy drink. 

“Whatsup?” Yunho’s grin is wide as he clasps the hand of both men, pulling them both into a hug, landing a smack on their backs. “You guys going to Steer on Friday? I heard it’s got a weird industrial, mechanical vibe to it, I don’t know. Joong seems pretty hype about it.”

San and Wooyoung both nod, but it’s San who answers, “Yeah, yeah, we wouldn’t miss it.”

“Sounds weird, though,” Wooyoung adds, “do you know if the drinks are cheap?”

“Three bucks a beer,” Yunho’s tongue pokes out from between his teeth, nodding, and the three men erupt into what can only be described as men-turned-pelicans finding an endless pit of fish to feed on. 

They’re all smiles and laughter until Yunho asks if you’re going, which sparks the two men’s memory, Wooyoung and San’s backs standing a little straighter, entering Shy-defense-mode.

“I…” San begins, then turns to Wooyoung.

Wooyoung, already staring at him, blinks, then turns to Yunho, “Maybe?” He gives it a second, then blurts, “Can I just ask what happened between you two?” 

San’s lips tighten, head falling until his chin tucks into his chest. They shouldn’t have asked, Wooyoung shouldn’t have asked, but he can’t help his curiosity– he wants to know, too. They haven’t gotten anything besides vague answers from you. 

Yunho’s eyes widened, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. It makes San curious, too curious for his own good, he adds, “We won’t say anything, she just won’t tell us anything, and we’re worried about her, y’know?”

Yunho’s chin tilts in defense, brows flattening, “I didn’t– it was just–”

“We’re not accusing you of anything bad,” Wooyoung waves his hands out in front of him, eyes wide, chucking nervously. “Shy said you were really great to her, it just didn’t work out, or something. She cried for like an entire day after and wouldn’t tell us any more details.”

San frowns with remembrance, how you shut yourself away and wouldn’t let them in, figuratively and literally. When Wooyoung’s hand falls to his side, San grabs it, giving him an encouraging squeeze, the two meeting eyes with small, fond smiles painted on their cheeks. Yunho’s eyes lock on the action, on their smiles, confusion morphing his features, everything scrunching together at once.

“What?” San asks, “Was everything okay? You’re both being so ominous about it.”

Yunho’s eyes flicker upward, meeting San’s, spouting, “Are you guys together?”

“Us?” San asks, surprised, eyes wide and brows high. 

San and Wooyoung share a look, then reluctantly, they nod. Wooyoung smiles, “Yeah, we’re together.”

“Like, just the two of you?” Yunho has a finger pointed, dancing between the two of them. 

San’s head turns in question, “Yes?”

Yunho’s jaw drops, nodding slowly, then with a pitched, disbelieving tone, he mumbles, “No shit.”

“I know,” San nods with a knowing smile, thinking he’s got all of Yunho’s thoughts figured out. “Long time coming, though.”

“It’s been like, a little over a week of us being together officially,” Wooyoung adds, his grin proud and wide, “but it’s been good so far. We’re happy.”

“Does she know?” Yunho asks, his face quickly settling back into confusion. 

Wooyoung’s lips purse, “Yeah, she knows. Why?”

Yunho nods slowly again like he’s thinking, then shakes his head quickly when Wooyoung’s question settles. “No reason, just wondering. Anyways, I’ve really gotta run, I’ve got this thing that I’m already late to and… art, and you know, yeah. Bye.”

“Wait, you didn’t–”

“Sorry guys, see you Friday though, yeah?” Yunho gives them a brief smile, then scurries down the aisle like Wooyoung and San were about to put the plague in his palms. 

Wooyoung and San stand there for a second, brows furrowed, heads tilted, before they look at each other utterly dumbfounded. Wooyoung points down the aisle, “Was that homophobic?” 

San, still confused, responds, “Perhaps.”

“Hm,” Wooyoung’s eyes thin, “could’ve sworn him and Mingi fucked before.”

“I thought so too,” San squeezes his hand again, “who cares? We can snitch on him Friday.”

Wooyoung’s grin returns, laughing loud enough for the whole bodega to hear, “Imagine Hongjoong’s face.”

“Hongjoong would beat the shit out of him with one hand, Naoya style.”

The more San thinks about it, the more he thinks Yunho might not actually be homophobic at all. 

“Don’t call me schizophrenic.”

Wooyoung snorts, “Are you about to say something that will make me think you’re schizophrenic?”

“Maybe,” San responds, lips scrunched. Sitting at the receptionist desk at the front of the studio, the final piece of San’s thought process clicked into place when you brushed past them into your studio for rehearsal. “I think Shy might love us back.”

Wooyoung, sitting fully on the desk beside San, wears a white tank on his upper half, exposing the tattoo on his forearm, black sweats on his lower, hiding each inch of bronzy, toned muscle. He’s housing a granola bar, his knees spread, back hunched, brows raised as he watches San think. 

“That interaction with Yunho was kinda weird,” San begins, leaning back into the rolling computer chair, hands lazily thrown at the center of his spread thighs. In all black, his clothes look painted on, tee clinging to his chest, his arms, his torso, sweats exposing the breadth of his thighs. 

“We knew this already,” Wooyoung nods, sticking out his free hand in a rolling motion, “let’s skip to the Shy part.”

“What if she was crying the whole day after her date with Yunho because of us?” His eyes flicker up to look at Wooyoung, who only raises a brow. “What if she didn’t work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?”

“Why would she even go on the date then?”

San deadpans, “Did she want to even go on that date?”

Wooyoung slaps a hand over his mouth, eyes widening, “Oh my god, she definitely did not want to go on that date. What if she didn’t work out with Yunho because she wants us, and she told Yunho all about it?”

San rolls his eyes, and then literally rolls the chair away from Wooyoung who tips his head back in laughter. “I’m sorry, come back,” he says through his laughter, “please? I’ll stop, I’m sorry. It just sounds like we’re grasping for straws here.”

“Why else would Yunho be so weird about us being together?” San continues, rolling the chair until he’s between Wooyoung’s spread legs, he lays both palms on his knees. “And when he asked ‘just the two of you’? Come on, he basically told us the whole damn story.”

Wooyoung holds onto his granola bar with two hands, eyes closing as he terribly sings, “Just the two of us… We can make it if we try, just the two of us…”

“Listen to me, Wooyoung. I’m being serious.”

It seems to lock him back in, Wooyoung meeting San’s eye, his back straightening a little. San’s lips perk upward, his groin opening an eye at the easy display of submission– not the time. 

“Okay, fine. But I do think you’re a little insane and grasping for straws.”

San smacks his teeth, “I’ll prove it to you, then.”

“Yeah?” Wooyoung cracks a smile, “How are you gonna do that? That night in the studio set us back, like, five years.”

“You don’t know her like I know her,” San sits back in the computer chair again, smirk crawling its way onto his cheeks, his arms crossing over his chest. 

Wooyoung scowls, “Are you flexing on me right now?”

“No!” San shakes his head, “I’m just saying, I think I could get her to crack if she does want us back.”

“And why would you do it any better than I could?” Wooyoung’s voice is sharper, “I wanted her to begin with, you know.”

“And I was fucking her before you ever laid eyes on her,” San responds in the same tone, “don’t get cocky with me, not when it comes to this.”

Wooyoung’s brows raise, back arching ever so slightly at the tone of San’s voice. There’s amusement playing in his words as he says, “Wow, never thought I’d see the day you get possessive.”

“With you, there’s no reason to, it’s not a competition,” San shrugs, “besides right now. You struck a nerve.”

Wooyoung smiles, hopping down from the desk to place a fat kiss on San’s lips, “You love me.”

San’s dimples are on display in a smile as he lifts his arms to grab Wooyoung by his cheeks, leaning up off the chair to kiss the younger man again, “That I do.”

“You’re really gonna try?” Wooyoung asks again, leaning against the counter, his legs crossed between San’s as he takes another bite of his granola bar. “Even after my studio debacle with her?”

San nods, “I’m optimistic about it, I know, but I really do think I’m right.”

San learned to enjoy cooking before he learned to enjoy being in the gym. Him and his mother in the kitchen, teaching him recipes she’s carried through her years learned from her own mother, to recipes he’s learned from cookbooks and the internet that fall within the strict guidelines of his diet. 

It turned from sustainability to passion— cooking became a love language before he knew it, and the main reason is because he’s always loved cooking for you most. More so since the two of you moved in together, even more so when Wooyoung moved in, too. Cooking for the three of you, to eat at the kitchen table, on the couch, even if he was dropping off plates to you in your bedrooms… San loved it. Adored it. 

For you to enjoy something he made for you warmed his blood until it sizzled with affection, to know he was making a good, hearty, healthy meal to nourish you, he never thought cooking, of all things, would make him realize how deeply he’s in love. 

It’s a constant reminder every time his bare feet touch the tiled floor of the kitchen that he loves you, that he loves Wooyoung. Tonight it feels stronger, but maybe that’s the two glasses of wine and his pink cheeks talking. The way you’re dancing about the kitchen, twirling in nothing but a big tee, singing along to the song playing from the speaker you keep in the kitchen— the confession is laying right below his skin, on the tip of his tongue, begging to be set free. After his realization, a bubble of hope so big you could pop it with a fingernail, he doesn’t know how much longer he can keep it in. 

You’re laughing at something he said, his tipsy mind doesn’t even know what it was, but your laugh is so loud and so involuntary it squeezes the life out of his lungs. He wants to pick you up and put you on the counter, his hands on your perfect thighs as your ankles hook around his back, he wants to kiss you. He wants to feel you laugh into his mouth. He misses you. 

“I don’t want to talk about me at eighteen,” you shake your head, still giggling. Your hair is in a bun atop your head, messy, pieces hanging out like you tied it without looking in the mirror. Barefaced, no pants, no bra, this is his favorite version of you, the one that doesn’t care, the one that’s perfectly comfortable being in your own skin.

“Why not? I loved you at eighteen, too,” San turns back around before his cock begins stirring in his pants— he stirs the pot on the stove, instead. 

You come up behind him, on your tippy toes to place your chin on his shoulder. Still smiling, teeth stained with a faint, deep red, “Yeah? You loved me, huh?”

San knows it’s the wine talking, you’d never be so bold otherwise. He doesn’t even think you’re being serious. But, being himself, his brows dance above his eyes as he says, “Of course I did, I still love you.” 

You roll your eyes, smile faltering for just a second before it returns with vengeance, “I thought you meant you loved me, you goof.” 

Should he just say it? Should he? His back straightens a little. Uneasy, voice a little shaky, he tries, “I did, I had a– a huge crush on you when we were eighteen.” 

Your eyes blow wide, spinning around next to him to press your back up against the counter, palms folding around the edge. Surprised, but a little disbelieving, your jaw drops, “No way.” 

“I’m serious!” I still have it to this day. “When you dated that one guy— fuck, what was his name?” 

“Mark.” 

“Mark, that’s it. When you dated him senior year, I was so mad, I can remember being at graduation and being so fucking jealous that you were kissing him for pictures.” 

You gasped out a laugh, mortified, shocked, stomach dropping with what you could have had, “What? Why didn’t you tell me?”

“What was I supposed to say?” San steps to the side, half of his body taking up all of yours. He pretends like he doesn’t notice how small you are beneath his body. “‘Hey Shy, I know we’ve known each other all our lives, but in the past few years I’ve actually formed a gigantic huge crush on you. Sorry if it ruins the friendship.’”

“Exactly that, yes,” you’re laughing again, nodding, head tilting to the side as you look up at him with those fucking eyes. He loves them, so big and full of knowledge, experience, maturity and grace that is only expressed in the most you way. In a quieter voice, like you’re afraid to say it, you mumble, “I guess that explains college then, huh?”

There’s a pit in his stomach, one full of gasoline, and you just dropped a lit match down his throat without even realizing it. 

“There’s a lot that could explain college,” San smirks, one dimple arriving at the scene, moving so he’s fully standing in front of you, caging you in between himself and the counter. He presses his hands into the ledge, voice teasing, light and airy, “Like how we wanted each other, and were using a third person as an excuse?” 

Your smile falters, eyes widening. You swallow, San watches as your throat bobs, breath turning shallow, chest rising and falling beneath your tee. He can’t help the way his smirk grows, liquid confidence and too much optimism making his arm raise to brush a thumb over your cheek, reveling in how you twitch under his touch, eyelids fluttering. He remembers this body like it was his own, how you react to him, what gets your panties wet, what makes your toes fucking curl. He wants to show you how much he remembers you. 

“Are you guys talking about college again?” 

You gasp loudly, jumping, body slithering out of San’s clutch and into the open floorplan of the kitchen, all in a few quick, panic-driven movements. With a hand clutched over your heart, you’re out of breath, “Fuck, Woo, you scared me.” 

“I could feel the jealousy simmering in my bones, I knew you had to be talking about college,” he’s leaning against the archway, playful smirk on his lips, golden skin gleaming beneath the warm light of the kitchen. Shirtless, body on display, an ankle crossed over the other with a pair of baggy basketball shorts on… fuck Wooyoung for interrupting him, but fuck, San might actually get hard with the both of you half-dressed. 

You roll your eyes, taking two steps before you press your back against the other side of the counter, using your palms to lift you up over the edge. Exactly how San wants you, how he imagined you, his breath catches in his throat. He turns back around instead of dwelling on it. 

“Shut up, Woo,” he hears you mumble, “those days have long ended. Should’ve met us earlier.” 

Wooyoung whines, uncurling his arms from his chest to walk further into the kitchen, stopping in front of you with his palms pressed to your knees, “What, you don’t miss it, Shybaby? Not even a little?” 

San turns the knob on the stove until the flame lowers to a small flicker, stirring the roux in the pot. He turns his head halfway, side-eyeing Wooyoung whose back is slightly arched as he stares up into you, hands now planted against the edge of the counter on either side of your thighs, so confident, not a shred of insecurity in him. San wonders how he’s managed a complete one-eighty from the night he woke him up to freak out. Maybe he’s really making this a competition. 

You stiffen, eyes widening. Tipsy, but not drunk enough to admit something like that.  A nervous laugh stutters from your lips, “I— What? Like I said, that ship has sailed. Those days are over. The baton has been passed to you, Woo.” 

You use one hand on Wooyoung’s bare shoulder and the other pressed to the countertop to haul yourself off of it, landing swiftly on bare feet. Scrambling out of the kitchen towards the living room, you call over your shoulder, “Let me know when dinner’s ready, I’m gonna lay down, the wine went straight to my head, I think.” 

Wooyoung waits a moment before he turns to stare at San, eyebrows flat. San tightens his lips, an insult in his eyes, whispering, “Why did you interrupt?”

Wooyoung crosses the kitchen, his voice a sharp whisper, “I thought you already did it. Do you know how it looked from over there?”

Leaving the roux, he leans up against the counter, arms crossing, “We would have been making out by now if you didn’t interrupt.”

“I’m sorry,” Wooyoung whines, “it’s fine, just try again.”

San covers his face with his hands, “You know what?” His hands lay on his boyfriend’s shoulders, “What I just did will hit its mark, maybe if you try next, we can get the point across without having to actually say it. Then she will come to us.”

“If I try then she won’t have to come to us,” a cocky grin spreads across the younger man’s face, “it’ll be game-point. You’ll come home to find us fucking.”

San’s lips thin, but he doesn’t respond. At this point he doesn’t care how it happens, as long as it happens. 

You thought the wine had left your system hours ago, after the meal Sannie made you, especially after a movie on the couch. The wine is the only explanation for your insides feeling warm and gooey— not the fact that across the hall, you could hear the squeaking of the mattress, the bedframe hitting the wall repeatedly, strangled moans leaving two men’s lips that you could tell they were trying to keep inside. 

Sweetie slept on his bed on your floor, head buried in the gray plush, waking up every few minutes or so from an especially loud moan or a shrill bang of wood against wall. Even your fucking dog was losing sleep. 

You’ve never heard them before, not once. Not once. Why tonight, after having both of their hands on you, their eyes staring into you, after the question Wooyoung asked? Do you miss it? The fear that zapped up on your spine was so intense you needed to lay down and close your fucking eyes. 

Confusing as much as it was scary, Wooyoung speaks of jealousy, but asks you if you miss fucking his boyfriend? Was it a kink to them? Is that why they’re fucking now?

They get off on other people wanting them… Wanting each other… That had to be it. The jealousy aspect, of reclaiming one another, and they used you to do it of all people?! It’s worse than mean, it’s worse than rude, it’s cruel. Cruel to dangle their relationship in front of your face after flirting with you— even if flirting with you is all they’ve ever done. 

You can remember meeting Wooyoung for the first time, sitting with him in a smoke circle, laughing your heart out when only three or four words had left his mouth. You ended up in tears, cheeks aching, lungs empty and dry, by the time everyone up and left and it was only the two of you left, he’d come onto you. Your first time meeting, even if he said he took notice of you far earlier, around that same smoke circle.

You can’t remember why you’d said no, how you rejected him. You had a feeling, maybe, that your relationship with him would grow far deeper than one night spent together in a cloud of hazy lust. Still to this day you remember that ache, laughing so hard you nearly gagged, eyes locked in on him, waiting for the next hilarious thing to leave his lips. It became routine, the next time you saw him out, the time Sannie introduced you to him when you already knew each other, when your name fell from his lips for the first time, Wooyoung has always, always looked at you with a certain look in his eye— like he was waiting for the smile to kiss your cheeks, for the laugh to fall from your lips. 

You don’t remember exactly when your duo with San had turned to three. Wooyoung only moved in two years ago, but you’ve been close for years now, since that night around the smoke circle, passing three joints amongst nine people. 

Maybe you were meant to become friends with him so he could end up with San, so the two of them could knock their headboard against your fucking wall and remind you that you’d never be on the inside. 

It felt sour. 

Yet for some reason, the hurt laying low in your tummy swam with the heat, the desire, curling into a pit of fire-hot pressure you couldn’t ignore. You’d already pushed the sheets off your body, already tugged your shirt up, desperate for air. You tried a pillow over your head, squeezing cotton against your ears. You went on your phone, scrolled Twitter, watched a few TikToks, tried your favorite ASMRtist. 

Laying low in the background was them. Endless. San’s low grunts, Wooyoung’s pitched whines, they poured through the thin wall separating your rooms, surrounding you like wildfire. They were everywhere, in the air, on your skin, in your sheets, but the ache curled low, settling into nothingness because you could hear the pleasure but were feeling none of it. 

You gasped as you heard it— one singular line gritted through San’s teeth, “Yeah? Gonna be good for me?”

You bent your knees up, head tipping back into the sheets, eyes squeezing shut. Your fingertips tapped against the bed, pushing a heavy sigh through pursed lips. That voice, his tone, the actions that accompany it, your memories are your personal hell. You could see them, Sannie bending Wooyoung in half, a foot planted on the bed as he drilled into him. 

Then Wooyoung whimpered, “Yes, please. So good for you— I’ll be good, please, fuck me Sannie—”

Your lips parted, a shaky breath slipping through. Your body was steaming, ears straining to listen to every last fucking detail even if you didn’t want to hear any of it. Even if it hurt, you needed it like water, like air, so badly you wanted to get up out of bed and walk in there. 

“That’s it,” San grunted, you could see the sweat beading between his pecs, “stay down, don’t fucking move.”

You bit your lip as your hands traveled to your thighs. Nails scraping against your skin, your nipples pebbled against the open air of your room, shame and embarrassment twisting with the rest of everything curling in your gut. Arousal, jealousy, rage, nostalgia, shame, hurt— you needed your panties off. It felt unethical, you should put on headphones, you should leave, you should do anything but dip two fingers into your panties. 

You moaned as your fingers made contact with your clit. Immediately you clamped a hand over your mouth, back arching into your own touch, ignoring the flame of shame completely as your eyes fluttered closed. You eased yourself into the pleasure, breath picking up as Wooyoung’s moans grew louder, the smack of San’s hips landing harder. 

Your other hand sank down to toy with a nipple while your fingers circled your clit in tight, rhythmic movements, eyelids twitching as their pleasure became your own. Timing your movements with theirs, lips parting when a moan sank through drywall, you let your mind drift, placing yourself in the fantasy. 

Laying up against Sannie’s chest, Wooyoung between your thighs. On top of Wooyoung, hips circling his as Sannie pushed up against your back, hands on your chest, one sinking down to rub circles on your clit. Sitting on Sannie’s lap just like Wooyoung had the night you caught him, chests pressed together, hands in hair, hips mindlessly rutting together, Wooyoung on your back as if you really were between them that night. 

The movie played in color in your mind, so vivid, like it was happening— with noise melting walls, it felt real. Lost in the pleasure, in the fantasy, you didn’t realize their volume had lowered, that their movements slowed. 

“Sannie, stop, stop,” Wooyoung splayed a hand behind him, head perked up, face still twisted in pleasure, but his lips stayed parted like he couldn’t believe his ears. 

“What?” Concerned, San had two palms on Wooyoung’s hips, pausing immediately, “Are you okay? What's wrong?” 

“Listen,” Wooyoung whispered, like if he spoke too loud, you’d hear him. That you’d stop. 

San’s brows furrowed, lips parting to question, but then he heard it. Small, faint whimpers, and then a moan— a genuine, raw, unbridled fucking moan, yours. He recognized it, he knows it, he’s forced it out of your lips, his hips grind into Wooyoung’s warmth out of instinct.

Wooyoung’s head dropped, arm bending until his elbow hit the mattress, a low moan spilling from his lips as his arm slipped between his thighs, tugging on his length. His voice comes out low, ragged, “I can’t believe this.”

“Fuck,” San cursed low, long, hips picking up again, slow but steady, quiet enough to hear your sounds float through the wall. “She– I–, Woo.” 

“Yes,” Wooyoung whispered, moaned, hips fucking back onto San’s length in a nasty, slow grind, “wish she was in here, sh- it, want her hands on me.” 

San’s fingertips squeezed into the plush of Wooyoung’s ass, face scrunching together in pleasure, a silent moan leaving his slacked jaw. The shock, the debrief would have to come later.

“You— you wanna fuck her while I fuck you? Hm?” 

Wooyoung arched deeper, fisting his length faster, picking up speed all over again, drowning out your noise. San wasn’t faring much better, hips stuttering into Wooyoung, one hand sliding up to claw fingers into his boyfriend’s back. 

“Yes, Sannie,” Wooyoung cried, “just like that, don’t— don’t stop, don’t stop, ‘m close.” 

San’s eyes stayed locked onto where the two met, watching how Wooyoung’s ass rippled with each harsh thrust of his cock, the end approaching too fucking fast. 

A few more thrusts until he was hunched over, drooling onto Wooyoung’s back as he filled him up, Wooyoung’s release spilling all over the comforter beneath them. They didn’t even get as far as undoing the sheets. 

Dinner, a few glasses of wine, a movie with too much touching, Wooyoung was already dirty talking San before they opened up the bedroom door. Cocky smirk on his pretty lips, head tilted, eyes sparkling, teasing him about you— oh, he was begging to get fucked. San’s been overly careful of your presence for awhile now, never too loud, keeping Wooyoung’s mouth on a tight leash when you’re home. 

But Wooyoung pushed each and every button tonight, all concerning you. How he’d fuck you better, how you’d crack when he tried, how he’d treat you better than San, San put one hand around his throat and the rest unfolded in a mess of teeth, tongue and lube. To hear you through the wall, getting off to them, was the cherry on top. They needed to do something, now. 

San ripped the comforter off the bed and crawled beneath the sheet, not caring if Wooyoung spilled into them as he settled over San’s chest, their breath still heavy, hearts still pounding.

“You seriously think she was getting off to us?” San asked Wooyoung, brows raised in innocence, in fear of what he thought to be true, being false. He kept his voice low, a small whisper.

Wooyoung, fully out of breath, chest still heaving and soaked in sweat, laughed. A hearty chuckle, he ran a hand through his hair, smile lingering, “Yes, baby. Bet she’s in there nervous as hell that we heard her.” 

You sat up in your bed, chest heaving, eyes wide, right hand still shaky. Fuck. There’s no way they heard you, right? Too wrapped up in each other, they were loud, there’s no way they heard you over the sound of themselves. You looked over to Sweetie in panic, only easing when you saw his head still tucked into his half-torn bed, eyes closed, breathing even. 

If Sweetie wasn’t bothered, then they definitely didn’t hear you. 

You lay flat against your bed, mind whirling, so fucking confused because that was so hot but it wasn’t right. Masturbating to the sound of your two roommates, two best friends who were in a relationship fucking, it wasn’t morally correct, that you knew before your fingers slipped into your panties. Post-nut clarity seeping in, you’re met with regret, guilt, and the urge to give up. 

Reminding yourself was painful– they don’t want you, they want each other. There’s no room for you in their relationship. 

Maybe you’ll go with them to that fuckass bar tomorrow. Maybe Yunho will be there. Nothing could be worse than living with this. 

San and Wooyoung had enough. 

The morning after the multi-room sex debacle, you pretended like nothing happened. They supposed that to you, nothing did happen, you had no idea they heard you, and they weren’t going to say anything, either. You’d die of embarrassment if they brought it up, and they’ve come to the conclusion that it wouldn't be the best start of a blooming relationship. They at least thought you would question it, question them. But you didn’t. 

Their patience was running thin. 

The bar was loud, pop music floating through the space, a newer bar with an industrial look to it that left everything open. The ceilings showed the pipes, the walls looked to be something like steel, the decor had a very factory-mechanical vibe to it that they couldn’t quite explain– but the drinks were cheap and the music was good. With all of your friends here, they didn’t care much, anyhow, their main focus was that you wanted to be here, you wanted to blow off steam, let loose and let go after a hectic week. 

They wondered how much of that excuse had to do with them. 

You stood at the bar, one foot propped up on the exposed pipe lying at the base, tapping Wooyoung’s credit card against the bar. San leaned into him, their shoulders touching, both of their eyes locked in on you, watching like they always did. God forbid they took their eyes off of you. 

“You guys are gonna go cross-eyed if you keep staring,” Seonghwa muttered from across the circular table, settled in the booth beside his boyfriend, Hongjoong. 

“How could we not stare?” Wooyoung was quick to answer. “Have you seen her?” 

“I thought you guys were together now,” Hongjoong’s brows furrowed, eyes bouncing between Wooyoung and San, fingers tapping against his glass, his draft beer halfway gone by now. 

“We are,” San shrugged, “just trying to get her with us, too.”

Wooyoung snorted, “That’s one way to put it.”

“Wait, wait, wait,” Jongho interrupted, leaning forward between Mingi and Yeosang, separating the couple. “You’re trying to be in… what, a throuple?”

“Yeah,” San and Wooyoung answered at the same time, like it was the most normal thing in the world. 

“Actually, I’m not even going to question it,” Yeosang shook his head, bringing the straw in his fruity cocktail up to his lips. “San’s always had a thing for her.”

Mingi leans forward, a smile on his pink lips, agreeing with his boyfriend immediately, “Right? I thought you guys would end up together, or really, I kinda thought you were secretly together this whole time.”

San’s cheeks, already pink, must have turned four shades darker. He didn’t have time to answer though, Hongjoong cutting in immediately, “Sounds messy. Does she know you want her?”

Wooyoung’s lips tighten as he shakes his head, “Don’t know, maybe.”

“Didn’t she just go on a date with Yunho?” Jongho asks, one of his brows popped. 

San sighs, “That was before we knew she was interested in us, if she is.”

“She is interested in you?” Mingi looks completely confused.

“See?” Hongjoong shakes his head. “Messy.”

Wooyoung nudges San with his elbow, speak of the fucking devil, grabbing his boyfriend’s attention to watch Yunho approaching you at the bar, a pitstop on his way back from the bathroom. Immediately there’s a fire in his gut, jealousy spreading like wildfire to each nerve ending in his body, it doesn’t help that Yunho looks hot tonight. Baggy cargos on his legs, tight tee on his torso, oversized button down hanging loose off his shoulders, fuck him. Why is he approaching you like the two of you are friendly or something?

Last they heard, you didn’t want him, you wanted them. So why is Yunho talking to you like he’s hitting on you? Why is your hand on his forearm? What could he possibly be saying that makes your head tip back in laughter? Yunho isn’t even that funny. 

There’s discomfort lining San’s eyebrows as he watches you lean into Yunho, seeming almost instinctive. He knows that look in your eye, the exact grin on your cheeks, what you’re insinuating even if he can’t hear a word falling from your glossy lips. He takes a slow breath, calming his heart rate before his mind warps what he sees into something completely different. 

Yunho’s his friend. If his hypothesis is correct, he knows how you feel about them, how they feel about you, wait– did they even tell Yunho how they feel about you? San’s eyes widen in panic as he turns to Wooyoung who already looks like he’s settled in his decision, jealousy in the hinge of his clenched jaw, his fingers mindlessly swirling the straw in his drink. 

San thinks they’re speaking around him, he can’t hear, he chooses not to listen. He watches as you lean forward, whispering something in Yunho’s ear. His chest feels heavy as Yunho looks down at the floor like he’s hiding flushed cheeks, an easy smile on his lips, body leaning closer to you as if San and Wooyoung weren’t sitting ten feet away. 

They’ve had enough. 

You were already smiling as Yunho approached you, having watched him make the few last steps to where you stood. “Hey stranger.”

“Hey,” he leans against the bar, “getting another drink?”

You flashed Wooyoung’s black card, a smirk on your cheeks, “Getting as many as I can stomach tonight.”

Yunho smacks his teeth, “Rough week?”

“You have no idea,” you say through an exhausted breath, “and you? Drinking tonight? I’m sure Woo won’t notice if I add another beer to his tab.”

Yunho’s eyes dance from the table back to you, “Oh, he’ll notice.”

“Trust me,” your lips scrunch together, disappointment on your face, “he won’t. He’s too focused on San.”

“They’re together?” Yunho lifts a brow, “like, together together?”

“Mhm,” you nod, tongue poking your cheek. “New development in the saga, I guess. Not a good one.”

“I’m sorry,” Yunho frowns, “I did not expect that.”

You’re still nodding until a sigh is pulled from your lungs, “It does leave me single, though, like super single…” Your eyes flicker up to him, blinking through heavy lashes.

Yunho snorts, “Yeah? Were you not super single before?”

You laugh, a breathy little thing, leaning closer to him, a hand mindlessly landing on his forearm. “I was, but there was hope before. Now there’s nothing, like super confirmed, nothing.”

“Super,” Yunho nods, laughter still playing on his lips like he was fighting it back. It leaves you both giggling like kids, a hand covering your mouth as your head tips back. 

He looks pretty tonight, you realize. Undone, casual, like he didn’t put in too much effort. Baggy clothes on his body, hair a little disheveled, he looked comfortable. You weren’t sure if it was the alcohol in your system or the last bit of sanity you were clinging on to, but he looked… Different. Good, really good. 

“Are you still super single?” The question slips from your lips before you can think about it. 

Yunho’s brows raise, surprised, they quirk immediately after, confused. His eyes fly to the table, landing there for a moment before sliding back to you, “Oh,” he blinks, “oh. Yes, yeah, I’m still single.”

“Good,” you nod, tucking your bottom lip between your teeth, feeling the heat you were so desperately missing the night you went out on your date. You needed something, a good fuck, a drunk hookup, something to distract you from how fucking miserable you felt. Hopeless was the better word, after coming to the sound of them fucking you’d never felt more pathetic in your life, you needed change, something, anything. 

“Do… you have plans after this?” Yunho’s face looked innocent, of all things. Like he wasn’t sure if he should be asking the question, the implication behind it, even though he seemed to see straight through you, what you needed.

The smirk that crawled onto your cheeks was anything but innocent. “Nope, completely free.”

“Good,” Yunho nodded, his smile a little more confident now. “Fuck the black card, let me buy you a drink.”

Your brows raised, a laugh falling past your lips as both your hands shoot up in defense, “Be my guest. You deserve a do-over.”

“No I do not,” he says through a laugh, “but you deserve to have some fun.”

You roll your eyes, snorting a laugh, “Please, we both know that date was not good.”

Yunho’s head turns back to the table again before taking your place leaning over the bar, ignoring your comment but definitely not denying it, “I’ll get us a round of shots.”

And he did– vodka, bitter and hot, it burnt your chest the entire way down. But it went down easy with the liquor already pooling in your gut, body warm enough to begin with. 

He bought you something fruity afterward, rum and juice, it tasted like candy— easy to sip on, easy to chug if need be. You stuck around the bar instead of heading back to the table, eyeing the dance floor on the other side of the bar, in easy conversation with Yunho who seemed like he had no intentions of heading back to the table, either. 

“Do you want to dance?” His eyes flicker to you, brows raised like he couldn’t quite gauge whether or not you’d say yes. 

“You know I teach dance for a living, right?” Your lips quirk on one side, “Of course I want to dance.”

“I can’t say I’m a great dancer,” Yunho admits, lips tightened in a line. “I sell art, there’s nothing fluid about walking around a gallery all day.”

You laugh, grabbing him by the wrist, tugging him towards the music that gets louder with each step. “Follow my lead,” you say simply, mind finally feeling fucking free, “I’ll give you a free lesson.”

He trails behind you with a silly smile until you enter the crowd of people, it was busy over here, you realized. The bar wasn’t too crowded, the other side of the building consisted of booths and tables for those who… didn’t want to have a good time, you guessed. Talking, catching up, the first awkward half of a date, maybe. 

You loved bars that had dance floors. Clubs, weddings, anywhere that there was a space dedicated to people letting loose, allowing their bodies to move as they pleased, to feel music in their blood. It was your favorite, even if you danced for a living, this was different– no choreography, no rules, there was nothing in your mind to keep you structured. You could let yourself feel, move the way your body allowed, you didn’t have to worry what anyone else thought. 

With liquor in your system, that freedom is amplified by a thousand. Dancing before Yunho, you quickly realize he lied about having two left feet, his smile is just as careless as yours as his body moves to the beat of the song, matching your rhythm perfectly. Hips swaying in tandem, arms flowing in the space around you, you’re giggling before you know it, a smile branded onto your cheeks. 

Until you turn your head and see that Wooyoung and San have joined you. 

San’s arms over Wooyoung’s shoulders, they danced close, hips touching, swaying together as one. They were smiling at you– or pretending to be, the first thing you noticed was how their grins didn’t reach their ears. An alarm bell sounds in your head, confused, concerned, you want to ask what’s wrong, your body stops moving as the thoughts pile in. 

Wooyoung, unaffected by your lack of movement, wiggles free from San’s grip. “Let’s switch!” He’s smiling, yelling over the music, “C’mon, it’ll be fun.”

Your brows furrow as Wooyoung shimmies between you and Yunho, his arms gliding swiftly over Yunho’s shoulders shamelessly, dark hair glowing under the pink, neon light, shaking with each sway of his body. 

You turn your head to San who seems like he’s taking a moment to process, then he pulls you into him by your wrist, other hand landing on your hip, your back to his chest. You start moving out of instinct, hips swaying, but your brows stay furrowed. 

Turning your head halfway, you ask, “What’s going on?”

San presses his lips into your cheek, dimples out to play with the smile he gives you. This one seems more real, it eases the panic in your chest ever so slightly. “What do you mean?”

“I–” Your head turns back to Wooyoung, who has his cheek pressed to Yunho’s, saying something into his ear. “Are you guys okay?”

“Of course,” San’s palms hug your hips, pulling you flush to him, the feeling of him behind you sends heat up your spine. Immediately you’re brought back to the other night, the sounds leaving his lips, the mental picture you came up with, your hand between your legs. With his voice dripped in honey, he asks, “Are you okay, Shygirl?”

You’re nodding, body sinking into him, heat pulsing through your core, up your spine. His body feels so strong behind you, muscular arms on your hips, rocking you so sensually it throws your head for a spin. This movement brings back memories, ones that haunt you, ones you miss so fucking much. 

You nod weakly, your voice a small squeak, “Yup, ‘m fine.”

He chuckles, cheeks pink, burying his head into your neck. You’re so close you could be considered one, it’s too close, it’s disrespectful, but you can’t bring yourself to let go. Yunho is right in front of you, expecting a night with you, he knows how you feel about San, about Wooyoung, and here you are falling into a haze, repeating old mistakes. 

A third hand to one side of your waist, a fourth to the other. When you look up, Yunho is gone. Wooyoung stands before you with a cocky, lopsided smile on his lips, hips pressing into your front, falling into rhythm with you and San easily. He looks so pretty with pink cast onto his face, so bronzy even under neon light, his dark clothes sinking into the shadows.

“Where’s Yunho?” You ask, hands finding Wooyoung’s shoulders like it was instinct. 

He takes the opportunity to come closer, the three of you molding together, the smell of both of them in your nose, the strength of them boxing you in. It feels so fucking good, it feels wrong, you don’t want them to let go, you want to stay here, dancing with them all night. 

“Bathroom,” Wooyoung shrugs, thumbs caressing your sides. “Who cares?”

“Woo,” you whine, making a show of pouting, but it isn’t real. You don’t care. 

“What?” His grin spreads wider, voice light and playful like he was proving his innocence, “The only thing that matters is you and us, right here. Nothing else.”

You couldn’t argue with him, not that you ever do. There’s nothing left inside you to make a rebuttal, anyway, there’s so you curl your fingers into the nape of his neck, spread your legs to allow one of theirs to slot through, and sway your hips like you were born to do it. Head falling back onto San’s shoulder, a lazy grin makes its way to your cheeks as you move with them, staring at Wooyoung over your nose, he looks at you like he’d do anything to drink you in. 

He’s always looked at you this way, but there was something different about the longing glint in his eye, how his tongue slowly swipes over his lips like he’s hungry. Maybe it was knowing your own feelings playing a part, if it was anyone else you’d think they wanted to fuck you, but it’s Wooyoung. You can feel San at your back, the dirty grind of his hips against your ass, it’s been so long since you’ve been with them like this– dancing, liquor involved, too close for comfort, questioning if your relationship was as platonic as you thought it was. 

Years. You haven’t touched San in years. You think back to Wooyoung asking if you missed it– you know you do, you miss it so fucking much, but was there a chance that Wooyoung wanted you to miss it? That he wanted to repeat history, this time with him involved, like all the times you’ve dreamt about? You almost groan, head tipping forward, heat spreading through your body at the thought of them wanting you like you want them. 

“What are you thinking about, baby?” Wooyoung asks, his voice low, loud enough for you to hear. His face is so close you could feel his breath on your face; minty, like he was drinking a mojito, or took a shot of Rumplemintz. His smile is feline, eyes knowing as if your skull was transparent, like he just wanted to hear the words from your lips. 

“I,” you take a breath, the admission sits on your tongue. “I’m not thinking.”

You can’t do it. To make yourself so vulnerable, so susceptible to rejection, you couldn’t do it. 

Wooyoung leans in, soft, warm cheek pressed to yours, lips ghosting your ear, “You’re lying.”

San is on your other side, keeping himself close, his nose dancing along the shell of your ear, making you shiver. He keeps his voice just as low, sounding like an aphrodisiac, “Tell us, baby, what’s going on in that pretty head of yours, hm?”

Your heartbeat quickens, pressure below your skin, they’re too close, boxing you in, there’s a pit in your core like an itch you can’t fucking scratch and they’re dangling relief in front of your eyes, out of reach. Your jaw clenches, words fighting to push through, your fingers tangle into Wooyoung’s hair at the nape of his neck, nails grazing against skin– he hisses into your ear, fingers tightening around your waist like it’s all he could do to stop himself from pressing into you. 

“Fuck, Woo,” you mutter under your breath, marvelling at the sound, how it makes your stomach do a flip. The floor feels charged, tension spreading from your ankles to your spine, your words spill out before you can think twice about them, “did you like that?” 

You can feel electricity prickling your scalp at your own question, but he answers it with a quick-spreading smirk brushing over your ear, “Is it okay if I did?” Your eyes widen as he pulls away from you, keeping your faces so close your noses are almost touching. His eyes stay locked on yours and you can see the desperation changing the shape of his face. He asks again, “What if I asked you to do it again?” 

It’s so wrong. They’re together, they’re a couple, there’s no fucking room for you. But what if there’s a chance that there is?

Yet your fingers tighten in his hair, gripping at his roots harder than before and his head falls back, strong jaw on display, the curvature of his nose, jugular beckoning your lips forward. The music disappears as a tight sound leaves his lips, the rest of the bar fades away as his hips buck into yours, you’re left in awe, dumbfounded, the heat in your core unbearable. 

“He likes it a little rough,” San whispers into your ear, voice rough, edged with dominance. His teeth dragging over your earlobe, tongue following, “You’re gonna make him hard, baby.”

“S-shit,” you manage to get out, body twitching, sinking into San behind you whose hands slide under the hem of your top at your hips, palms hot and callused against your skin. Involuntarily your hips push forward, into Wooyoung, your mind so fuzzy and confused but you’re so fucking horny all you can ask is, “What are you doing?” 

“Isn’t it obvious?” Wooyoung asks, voice playful again, his hand slides up to cup your cheek, thumb sliding over your skin, searing the trail he leaves behind. “You’re smart, use that big brain.”

“Kiss him,” San whispers in your ear, then plants a kiss right below it, using his tongue to seal the spot. You shiver, a whimper leaving your lips, brows tying together. You’re confused, you don’t have time to be, you don’t want to question it anymore.

You want to kiss him, you’ve never kissed Wooyoung once in your life. You’ve longed to know what he tastes like, how he uses his pretty lips, if his tongue can do all the things you’ve imagined it to. Your eyes drop down as he wets his lips again, so glossy and inviting, you bite your lip as his curve into another smile. 

“You want to,” San’s lips drop to your neck, talking against your skin, “I know you want to, don’t deprive yourself, baby.”

You do want to, it’s a dream, your biggest fantasy coming to life. Your hands slide from the nape of Wooyoung’s cheek to cradle his jaw, Wooyoung’s flared eyes give you the green light, you blink once, twice, ignoring everything in your mind that tells you no as you lean in and press your lips to his. His hands cup your cheeks immediately, lips moving with yours, exploratory and relieving all at once, his tongue slips into your mouth like he’s been waiting his whole life to do it, no time to waste. San keeps his hands on your waist, groaning into your skin as he watches you, attaching his lips to your neck, kissing, sucking, licking over the marks he leaves behind. 

There’s a leg between yours, you think it’s Wooyoung’s, maybe San’s, but your hips grind against it with each lick of his tongue into your mouth. It feels like heaven, or worse, mind so dazed and confused and horny but so at peace with this being everything you’ve ever imagined and more, you can’t get enough. You kiss him faster, rougher, arms wrapping around his neck, tongue searching his mouth like you need to embed the taste of him into your bones, he tastes sweet. Minty like this breath, a bitter note of alcohol on his tongue, your hands fall from his cheeks to his chest, sliding down to the hem of his shirt to tuck your hands beneath it. 

Oh, he’s warm, his body feels like it looks, harsh and unforgiving, delicious. Like he could throw you around if he wanted to, you hope he wants to, unless it’s San who does the throwing– San. 

San. 

You break away from Wooyoung with low lidded eyes and he’s staring at you like you hung the stars in the fucking sky. Eyes glossy, lips swollen, you pull away and immediately he’s following, searching for more. 

You turn your head and San’s already waiting for it, palm splaying over your cheek to pull you into him hastily, lips molding against yours like nostalgia was a sentiment created by the two of you. Like coming home, his tongue slots between your lips, teeth clamping over your bottom lip, tugging on it, you whine into his mouth, back arching into his chest. You needed more. 

“Do you want us?” He asks into your mouth, breathless. You nod, and he clicks his tongue, “Words, Shy. Tell me you want it.”

“I want it, I’ve wanted it for so long,” you’re quick to admit, breathless yourself, voice raw, honest. “So, so fucking long, Sannie.”

Wooyoung grabs your face by your cheeks, stealing your attention, forcing you to face him so he can explore your mouth again, San breaking away from your back. You barely notice the loss of heat, melting into Wooyoung, chest pressed into his, hands in his hair, meeting his intentions with your own. He breaks away to peck you once,  out of breath, pupils dilated, “We’ve wanted you for even longer.”

Your breath stutters, weak in the knees, you can’t process his words, you’d put it on a checklist for later. Voice cracking, wrecked before you’d even begun, you muttered, “Let’s go home.”

You felt bad for the driver with the way you sat on San’s lap the whole drive home, switching between him and Wooyoung like you were trying to figure out who was the better kisser. Truth was, you just couldn’t get enough of them, San’s kiss was a part of your being, his touch was instilled in you, familiar to the point of not wanting to ever let go. Wooyoung was new, fresh, but an itch to a scratch, a relief you’ve ached for far too long, he was addicting, like you couldn’t stop if you tried. 

Sweetie is jumping at you when you walk through the threshold and the three of you bend down to pet him like you’ve never seen a dog before, like they weren’t just ready to strip you in the backseat of a minivan. Liquor still coursing through you, you’re all talking in high pitched voices, making his tail wag, he couldn’t choose which of you to give his attention to. After treats you’re in your room, tying your hair up, and naturally, the two men follow you. 

San makes himself at home on your bed, still in his jeans, jacket still thrown over his shoulders, he leans back on his elbows, eyeing you over the tip of his nose as you meander about your bedroom, maybe stalling, maybe thinking. Maybe you just made all of that up. Maybe you didn't even kiss in the club and you should be diagnosed with schizophrenia. 

“Shy.”

Wooyoung stands in the doorway, arms crossed, smirking. 

You look between them, jacket halfway off, heart picking up speed all over again, “What?” “Oh my god, I love you,” Wooyoung’s smiling as he unfolds his arms, crossing the room, meeting you at your back. He pulls the jacket from your shoulders carefully, pressing his lips to your temple, “We want you, baby.”

Your eyes find San’s on your bed, he sits in a cloud of arousal, still sporting the tent in his jeans. Wooyoung presses his lips to your neck, hands landing on your hips, sliding up your waist, over your chest, your breath catches in your throat, head tilting to let him explore, back leaning into his hold to let him do as he pleases.

“I know it’s been two years,” San stands from the bed, walking towards you in three long steps, slipping his fingers through the belt loops on your jeans. He tugs your hips into him, arching you off of Wooyoung, making your breath catch. The grin that spreads across his cheeks is all arrogance, “But did you really think you weren’t getting fucked the moment we walked through the door?”

Your body ignites in a way you haven’t felt in years. You whisper, “I did, I– I don’t know.”

“Do you want me to fuck you?” He presses his forehead against yours, voice soft like velvet, invading your space again with his fingers uncurling from your belt loops to play with the hem of your jeans, two fingers pinching the button of your fly. 

Wooyoung moves to your ear, biting the shell of it, not soft enough to hurt, but enough to make you suck in a harsh breath. He plays with your top, sliding it upward, knuckles cold against your skin, “Do you want me to fuck you?”

You whine, sinking into Wooyoung, reaching for San’s shirt. You want them to fuck you, god, you want them both, you’ll take anything they give you. You can barely get out a small, broken, “Yes.”

Accomplishment is bright on San’s face as he unbuttons your jeans with ease, Wooyoung pulls away to flip your shirt over your head, the two moving in such quick motions you begin thinking they’ve been waiting for this, too. San helps you step out of your jeans before attaching your lips and it’s more than hungry, he’s starving with the way he tries to devour you, swallow you whole as he turns you both around, unclasping your bra as he walks you to your bed. 

You fall flat against your mattress with a squeak, feeling bare before them like this, standing above you like vultures. You’ve been here before with San, it feels like seeing an old friend again; but with Wooyoung, there’s a spark of unfamiliarity, it’s been years since you’ve opened up to someone new.

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung groans, dark hair messy around his face, deepening the shadows of his structured face. “You’re so fucking beautiful, Shy.”

You burn, heat spreading through you, knees closing, “You’ve seen me before, Woo.”

He catches your knees, spreading them as San kneels onto the bed beside you, watching Wooyoung as his eyes sink between your legs. “Not like this, do you even know how fucking wet you are?”

Your hips twitch with the way he holds you open, already searching for more. Wooyoung continues, eyes glossed over, stuck at your center like it was treasure, “Fuck, baby, you’re soakin’ through your panties.”

“For you,” you breathe out, “taste it.”

His eyes snap up to yours, smile tugging at the corner of his lips, amused. “Yeah? That what you want?” 

You nod, “Yes, Woo, wanna feel your mouth, wanted it for so long.”

His eyes slide to San’s with a smirk and the older man meets his stare with a short, cocky, “Told you.”

Wooyoung’s hands curl under your knees, pulling your ass to the edge of the bed before he pulls your panties down your legs, throwing them somewhere on the floor, “Didn’t tell me she was impatient.”

“I am,” you’re quick to admit, shameless and desperate, “I’ve been.”

He smiles again, lifting one leg and pressing his lips to your ankle, keeping his eyes on yours as he sinks down to his knees. Slow kisses up your calf, your inner thigh, his tongue leaves a trail, your breath hitches in your throat as he breaks away just to tug his shirt over his head by the collar. 

“Nostalgic, hm?” San mumbles, close to your ear, laying down with one elbow propped up to watch, “We’ve been in this position before.”

You gasp as Wooyoung’s teeth graze your other thigh, at the sensitive part on the inside, eyes flickering up to yours to see your reaction. Through gritted teeth, one arm reaching out for San, you whisper, “Mm, missed it.”

“He’s good with his mouth, y’know,” San leans in closer, pressing his lips to your cheek then your jaw as Wooyoung finally leans forward, his nose meeting your folds before his lips make contact. A strangled moan escapes you, hips immediately bucking into him, other hand flying between your legs to take root in his hair. 

As his tongue swipes through your folds your back arches, your moan exposing every feeling of relief, of how much you wanted this, needed this. His name drips off your tongue and he groans at the sound, “You sound so pretty, Shybaby.”

“Prettier when she’s louder,” you can feel San smirk into your skin, “you have no idea how shameless she can get. Suck on her clit, Woo.”

As his lips wrap around your clit your moan heightens in pitch, louder than before, fingers tugging harshly at his scalp as your hips buck into his mouth, “Holy shit, Wooyoung.”

He groans into you, fingers curling into your thighs, soothing over your clit with his tongue, “Taste so good, pussy so pretty, can’t believe I haven’t done this sooner.”

Your face grows hot as his tongue flattens over your folds, flicking at your clit with precision, no haste to his actions, he’s exploring you. Seeing what you like, what makes you gasp, what makes you moan, what makes your stomach clench in pleasure. 

His nose glides over your clit and you buck into him again, his tongue circling your entrance, drinking up every ounce of your arousal. San’s fingers find your hair, “Mm, she liked that, Woo.”

“You like my nose?” His eyes flicker up to you and you nod shamelessly, humming your agreement. He repeats the movement and your back arches as he moves into a rhythm, tongue fucking into you while his nose glides over your clit, his movements timed perfectly with each jerk of your hips.  

“Wanna see you ride it,” San whispers into your ear and you gasp out, one hand curling into the sheets beneath you. “Next time.”

“Yes, fuck,” you mumble through gritted teeth, “want it, need it.” 

“Wanna watch you cum,” San’s fingers find your chest, the pads of them running over your hardened nipples, pinching at your sensitive skin. Louder now, your moans slurring together, your stomach curls in pleasure, pressure building in your hips. 

“Don’t stop, Woo,” you whisper, a broken sound, using your fingers in his hair to rock your hips against his face, “so good, just like that.”

He grunts in response, letting you use him, adding more pressure and you’re locking up around him, whimpering as San’s fingers pinch harder at your chest, it’s enough to pull you right to the edge.

“There you go,” San encourages, lips buried in your hair, “use him, let me see you cum against his face, make yourself cum for me, c’mon.” 

“Gonna–” there’s panic in your voice like you couldn’t believe you were reaching your peak so easily, but as his fingers tighten into your thighs harder, tongue lolled out for you to ride, the slight sting in your skin combined with the stimulation to your clit throws you over with a loud cry, pleasure washing over you in waves, body trembling beneath their touch, your skin on fire. 

“Yes, so good for us,” San whispers, voice coated in praise, “such a good girl, Shy. Missed watching you cum, wanna feel you do it around my cock.”

You whimper, eyes cresting open to see him above you, dimples showing as he speaks. Dark hair messily sprawled across his forehead, cheeks pink, eyes soft and warm, gaze filled with so much love it makes you dizzy. Your hand lifts from Wooyoung’s hair to cradle San’s cheek, pulling him down into a messy kiss, tongue slotting into his mouth softly as Wooyoung presses soft kisses to the tip of your mound, between your hipbones, up your stomach. 

Your back arches as his lips wrap around one of your nipples, tongue swiping over them, soothing where San had pinched, it makes you whimper, one hand falling from San’s cheek to dig into Wooyoung’s hair again, softer this time. Nails grazing his scalp, ankles crossing over his back, everything felt slow, filled with purpose, like each one of their movements were solely for your pleasure. 

You needed more. You needed them to treat you like they’d treated each other a few nights ago, you needed the bed to hit the wall, to hear Wooyoung whimpering, San’s domineering voice. Your other hand finds San’s hair, gripping at the spiral of his crown, making him grunt into your mouth, “Shit.”

“Need more,” you’re panting into his mouth, “need you to fuck me, I need it.”

Wooyoung’s arms scoop under your back to pull you up as San leans back to groan, you meet his lips hastily, already seated on his thighs, your legs bracket his hips, your bare chest pressed to his. Denim below you, you curse at the feeling of texture, sturdy, rough fabric, “Get these off.”

“Impatient,” he smirks into your lips, “you needy? Desperate to fuck us?”

Skin alight with wildfire, your fingers find the hair at the back of his neck, tugging as you sit upward, following his face as you pull it backward by his hair, “Gonna make me say it again?”

A smile breaks out across his face, one full of excitement, “Holy shit, Shy–”

“Who are you talking to like that, huh?” San’s at your back, chest pressed to your shoulderblades, feeling so big it’s menacing, “You should be thanking him for letting you cum on his face.”

Staring down at Wooyoung, his grin had gone cocky again, one brow raising with your hands still rooted in his hair. Your fingers tighten again and his brows furrow in pleasure, a small moan croaking from his lips, it’s satisfactory enough. You mumble, “Thank you.”

San hums in contentment behind you, “Good girl.”

Wooyou watches in awe as San lifts you off his lap, turning you to face him with ease, standing on his knees he wraps a hand around your jaw, kissing you with more force than he had all night. Tongue pushing past your lips, teeth clashing, you melt beneath him, hands finding his bare pecs to hold onto as he devours your lips, your taste, your pleasure.

“You want me to treat you like a doll?” He asks into your mouth, voice harsh, edged like a blade. 

“Want you to treat me how you treat Woo,” you whimper, the admission falling from your lips without a second thought, until you feel him smirk. Hazy from a minute of his mouth on yours, the heat of shame couldn’t find you. 

“Knew you were listening,” Wooyoung is at your shoulders, hands on your waist, traveling to your front to grab two handfuls of your chest. “Fuckin’ pervert, listening to us fuck.”

Your back arches, fingertips digging into San’s skin, voice coming out tight, “Hard not to hear when the bed frame is hitting the wall.”

San stares at you like he’s debating fucking the cockiness out of you, “Almost forgot how much of a brat you can be.” Your grin is shameless, daring almost, and he doesn’t like it one bit. “Gonna look at me like that when I’m fucking you within an inch of your life?”

Your brows knit together, lips parting at his words, core clenching around nothing. “Please,” you whimper, hands sliding to his shoulders to pull him forward, “please.”

He doesn’t move, a stone wall before you. Instead he asks, “Did you touch yourself?” Left in the briefs glued to his lower half, your eyes sink to the outline of his length obvious in the polyester clinging to every inch of his skin. His face is lined by confidence, “Made that pretty pussy cum thinking about me fucking you, too?” 

Softly, you moan, “Yes.”

“Should have come in the room,” Wooyoung’s lips find your neck, pulling you back into him as his palms knead into your chest. ”Woulda made you cum so hard.”

You whine, sinking into his hot skin, chiseled abdomen searing your back. With your knees spread, your eyes are glossy as you stare up at San who grips his length over his briefs, mouth watering with his sculpted body on display, he’s changed so much over the years. This body is bigger, bulkier, stronger, he’s a completely different San than the one you knew back then. The things he could do to you now cross your mind, sinking straight down to the pit in your belly, your core clenching around nothing. 

“Wanna touch?” He asks, still sporting his cocky grin. You nod against Wooyoung’s chest, writhing beneath his palms, his touches only edging you further. He dips his chin down to his length, “C’mere, baby.”

You crawl forward on your palms until you’re standing on your knees before him, pressing your palms up to his shoulders, feeling the curves of his muscles before sliding down to his toned chest, palms laying flat, feeling his heartbeat beneath his skin. They slide down to his abdomen, so sculpted like he’s made of stone, your head tips forward, tongue lolling out of your mouth to glide across the dips and peaks, moaning at the taste of his skin, sweaty, salty, San. He pushes out a heavy breath as your head dips lower, fingers sinking into his waistband, tugging his briefs down. 

“Wanna taste,” you mutter mindlessly, mind whirling, craving his cock, missing it. It springs out of his briefs, slapping up between his hipbones, thick and red and leaking, your mouth waters. You blow cool air from your lips and he hisses, cock twitching, making you smile. Your eyes flicker upward, “Want my mouth?” 

His heavy brows are furrowed, hips tilted forward, his hands come forward to cup your cheeks. “Wanna fuck you, Shy.”

Your stomach fucking churns at the sound of his voice, whiny and desperate, you clench around nothing at the thought. You missed him so badly you ached for it, the feeling of him inside you, his cock so thick leaving you full enough it’s almost overwhelming to have him seated inside.

Before you have the chance to move you feel two heavy palms land on your hips, your head turns, back arching on command. Wooyoung knelt behind you, cock standing tall between his hipbones, the pretty pink tip leaking against his lower abdomen, so bronzy and veiny and strong. His eyes follow the trail of the base of your spine up to your eyes, “Let me have a turn first.” 

You whimper, arching lower, knees spreading to allow him entrance, whining out a breathy, “Yes.”

San holds your cheeks steady, “Can you take it?”

You’re on fire, hips pushing back against Wooyoung with impatience, mouth filling with saliva. “Yes, yes, I can take it, use me– Please?”

A guttural moan spills from the two of them, San rips his briefs off his ankles as he sits back on his calves, one arm behind him holding up his weight. You feel Wooyoung slide two fingers up your spine, rippling over each vertebrae and then back down again, the other hand hooked on your hip squeezing as he grinds his cock against your folds, slippery and wet, he lets out a tangled whine at the feeling. 

“You sure, Shy?” He asks, “Pussy’s begging to be fucked.”

“Need this,” you mumble, “need you, don’t hold back.”

“I won’t,” Wooyoung huffs, “don’t think I can, anyway.”

You turn to find San staring at you, his eyes so warm and inviting, lined with impatience he doesn’t dare verbalize. His jaw clenches as you lean down, tongue poking out to meet the leaking tip of his cock as Wooyoung lines himself up, letting his cock catch on your entrance with each slide up your folds. San’s other hand finds your hair as you lick up the underside of him, his head tipping backward as a moan tumbles out from his chest, abdomen already clenching at the pleasure. 

“Fuck, that mouth,” San hisses as you let a mouthful of saliva drip onto his cock, using one hand to spread it along his length before you take the tip in your mouth fully, his grip tightens in your roots. “Missed those pretty lips, baby.” 

You can’t answer, a strangled noise forcing itself out of you as the tip of Wooyoung’s cock prods your entrance. His hands find your hips, squeezing, “Breathe for me, baby.” His tone is absent, like he needed the reminder more than you did, laser-focused on how your entrance is already sucking him in.

You breathe through your nose, eyes screwing shut as he pushes in, filling you with his length inch by inch, slowly but steadily. A high whimper punches through your lips, mouth unwrapping from San’s cock to dip your head down, hips involuntarily pushing back onto Wooyoung, wanting to be full, fast. 

“Patience,” Wooyoung squeezes your hips harder, more confidence in his voice, “this tight lil’ thing needs to be stretched out, take it easy, baby. We’ll give you everything, I promise.”

You haven’t felt this full in years. Even sopping wet you could feel him carving into you, making space for himself where you haven’t been properly filled in so long– the pleasure was tantalizing, slight sting of the stretch mixing into a cocktail of euphoria, your eyes fluttered back into your head, hand tightening around the base of San’s cock.

“Breathe, Shygirl,” San encourages, “let him in.”

Your eyes open, flickering up to San who watches Wooyoung over your head, your body the bridge connecting the two men. The sight of him, flushed, chest patched with a rosy hue, your tongue slides out of your mouth to lick up the underside of him again, taking the tip of him into your mouth. 

His hips buck upward, surprised at your warmth wrapped around him, he pushes his cock deeper into your throat and you gag involuntarily, other hand tightening into the sheets below you. You breathe through it, your nose pushing out air as you take him deeper, head bobbing along his length as Wooyoung fully sheathes himself inside you. 

He waits there a moment, fingers gripping the plush of your ass, his voice utterly gone as he says, “She’s so fuckin’ tight, Sannie.”

San’s eyes flicker up to him, “Make her cum on your cock, wanna see.”

He pulls out all the way just to slam back inside and your throat constricts around San’s length, making you gag again, eyes watering, blurring your vision. Wooyoung whines, “Fuck, baby, holy shit, Sannie.”

Hearing him moan out San’s name while he fucks you etches stars into your vision. Your hips start pushing back, your hand leaving San’s length to take purchase in the sheets as your hips buck against Wooyoung’s length in the same rhythm that you bob your head along San’s cock. Both men moan, a pitiful sound, lewd and desperate, it makes you clench around Wooyoung, nose diving down to press into the tuft of hair at the base of San’s cock. 

“There you go,” San huffs, voice strangled, you look up to see him sink his teeth into his bottom lip. “Fuck, so pretty, taking my cock so fucking well. Missed seeing you like this.”

You moan around him, core clenching and you can hear the whine caught in the back of Wooyoung’s throat, his fingers curling into the plush of your ass, squeezing so fucking hard it rips a tight noise from your chest, dying on San’s cock. 

“Don’t know how long I’ll last, fuck,” Wooyoung chokes out, hands sliding up to your hipbones.

San does his best to make his smile appear cocky, “When’s the last time you fucked, huh?” He gasps the moment the words leave his lips, as you swallow around his length, he curses under his breath, tightening a hand in your roots.

Wooyoung speaks through gritted teeth, “Too fucking long, shit, she’s suckin’ me in–”

“Can’t wait to feel,” San grunts, hips twitching into your mouth, forcing you to take him deeper, “mouth just as dangerous, you’re a demon, Shy.”

You try to smile, he’s too wide in your mouth, in your throat, you settle for shooting him one with your eyes. You’re in rhythm now, head bobbing at the same pace as Wooyoung fucking into you, being so full, so manhandled by the two of them even if you were the one who put yourself here feels so good. Wooyoung’s cock is thinner than San’s, longer, you can feel how it curves along the front side of your walls, hitting every single spot you need it to. 

It makes your knees wobble, your fingers twisting in the sheets, it feels too fucking good. It’s been a long while since you’ve breached an orgasm around someone’s cock, it’s muscle memory the way your arch comes back to you, the rhythm in which you fuck against him to get yourself off, the pressure building so different from when you do it yourself. 

Wooyoung notices, landing a sharp smack to your ass, “Usin’ me? I can feel you fucking back.”

You pop off of San’s length to turn your head halfway, “Y’feel so good, Woo, can’t help it.”

His brows tie together, jaw falling slack, “Fuck, don’t stop, baby, don’t stop–”

“Inside, kay?” Between a moan and a whimper, “Don’t pull out.”

His palms push into the plush of your ass again as you take San’s cock into your mouth, stretching your lips wide to take him, using the slick you’d left behind to glide your tongue all the way down, choking yourself on him, bobbing your head in rhythm again. 

“Shy,” there’s nerves in San’s voice, “baby– fuck, Shy– gonna cum–”

Wooyoung’s hips stutter, he curses under his breath, one of his hands slides around to your front, between your legs, “Can’t– need you to cum first, baby, please.”

Two fingers to the bundle of nerves between your legs, your hips jerk, back arching impossibly deeper, a gargled moan vibrates San’s cock and he curses low, hands in your hair pulling, it’s overstimulating, how much is happening all at once. 

Wooyoung’s fingers take all but three tight circles at your clit to send you freefalling over the edge, pressure blowing, pleasure spreading through your body like fireworks reaching each limb, every nerve ending. San tugs you off his cock by your hair, one hand fisting the base of him to stop his orgasm from hitting, and Wooyoung cries out as he barrels into you, hips finally stilling when he’s fully sheathed, filling you with warmth. 

You’re gaping, staring at San wide-eyed, “Why?”

It takes a moment for you to process the warmth. Like sitting before a fire, it’s comforting, head dropping to let it sink in– nostalgic, you missed this. 

“Wanna cum inside you,” he answers simply, “c’mere.”

Manhandling you all over again, he pulls you onto his lap, you can’t help but reach for Wooyoung behind you. San wastes no time, ignoring your heaving chest, the exhaustion in your eyes you’re hiding with adrenaline, with one hand on your hips he lines you up over his cock, easing you down onto his length, you hiss at the stretch, at the width of him. 

“Big stretch,” his grin is taunting, “you can do it, baby, easy.”

“Fuck,” you whimper, arms stretching behind you, “Woo.” Searching for the man who just came inside you, he’s at your back, broad and steady, arms wrapping around you. 

“I’m here,” he whispers into the curve of your neck, moving your hair away from your sticky neck to press his lips into you, and it’s the comfort you needed to start grinding your hips into San’s cock, moans spilling from your lips, small gasps and whines as he fills you up perfectly, walls molding to the shape of him like he’d never left.

“Fuck, Sannie,” you murmur, “‘s too much, missed your cock, but it’s too much.”

“You can do it,” he leans into you, groaning at the feeling of you around him, he searches for your lips. You pick your head up to meet him, pressing your lips to his, tongue sliding into his mouth, tasting every inch you can find. He grins into your lips, “Look at you, taking it like you did all those years ago. Still my fuckin’ slut, aren’t you?”

You gasp, hips twitching against him, clenching hard, and he curses under his breath like he wasn’t just taunting you. Lips still ghosting yours, he whispers, “Still like my mouth? All that nasty shit?” 

You nod, nipples brushing against his chest with every bounce of your hips, nails digging into the muscle of his shoulders. All you can manage is, “More.”

“I know, baby,” his hips jerk up and you cry out, arching into Wooyoung behind you who reaches around your front, fingers pinching at your nipples, teeth at your ear. San, voice wrecked, grunts as he says, “Still need a little pain with the pleasure to get you off, huh?”

You can’t answer, eyelids fluttering, hazy at the feeling of Wooyoung’s release spilling out of you onto San’s thighs, the squelching sound of it coating his cock, making it easy for you to bounce yourself against him like a bitch in heat. 

Wooyoung chuckles into your ear, low and velvety, it sends a shiver up your spine. “Never woulda guessed that from you, baby.”

It makes a lazy grin break out across your cheeks, head turning to kiss him, all teeth and tongue, messy and delicious. “Really?” 

“My Shygirl,” his voice is filled with affection, lips pressed to the side of your head, parted and spilling spit onto your temple, your cheeks, it feels dirty– so fucking sexy you can’t control the way you hump San’s cock, slurring mindless babbles and strained noises you can barely comprehend. 

“Our Shygirl,” San corrects him, eyeing Wooyoung over your shoulder, a severity to his tone that makes your eyes flick upward in question. 

His brows tied with pleasure, sweat dripping down his brow, dark hair messy and tangled on his head, he looks like a fucking dream. He is a dream, this is a dream, harmonious with the two as if you’ve done this a thousand times, like it was always supposed to be this way, he can read the question on your tongue. He cups your cheek with a hand, sliding it to the back of your head to take root in your hair, tugging you towards him close enough for your lips to touch, “It’s different this time.”

You try to kiss him with your slacked jaw but it’s a trading of spit more than it is a kiss, “Different.”

“Mine,” he growls, a hand wrapping around your back, fingers digging into your skin, his words too coherent to be born of the heat of the moment. “Wanted this for too long, both of you, you’re both mine.”

“Yours,” you repeat, confirm with an airy head, echoed by Wooyoung as your hips stutter against San’s cock, head tipped against the younger man’s shoulder, “f-fuck me.”

“Sit,” it’s an order from San to Wooyoung that’s answered on command, he sits on his calves before uncurling his legs from below him, cock half-hard laying stiff between his hips. 

San maneuvers you with two hands on your waist, you gasp as he tugs you off his cock effortlessly, laying you back on Wooyoung’s chest like it took no fucking strength at all. Strong arms wrap around you as your skin meets his, tilting your head to the side to see him, to kiss him, he smiles as he sees you, teeth on display. 

“So fucking pretty,” Wooyoung looks at you the same way he always does, stars in his eyes, like he couldn’t smile without his whole face if he tried, like the look was solely for you. “You’re mine too, y’know.”

You reach up with one arm to pull his head down to yours, the kiss softer than those you’ve shared tonight, more controlled like you needed a moment to let his words sink in, your mind too fuzzy to process the weight of what that meant. 

San’s fingers hook under your knees, pushing them backward until they leave you spread, lining himself up all over again, pushing inside in one quick motion. 

A different feeling of full, Wooyoung holds your face against his as you whisper a cry into his mouth, your lips still touching as he grins, “Been waiting for this too, haven’t you? You wanna be ours?” 

Body going limp in his hold, hand falling from his cheek mindlessly, your body feels like fucking jelly. You nod, breath quickening, short and tight at the feeling of San fucking into you, “Need to be, waited so long.” 

San’s grip tightens under your knees, picking up speed, your head turns to see him and god you want to take a picture, want to frame it and hang it on the wall; brows furrowed, lips parted, eyes focused on your meeting below, his abdomen flexing as he rolls his hips into you, it makes your toes curl where they hang in the air. 

Face scrunching up, you reach for him, pulling him down to you, “Need t’kiss you.”

Messy, sloppy, wet, you can feel him in your stomach as your arms wrap around his shoulders, pulling him close. With the last peck to your lips he presses his forehead against yours, “I missed you, I love you— taking me s’fucking perfectly, like you always do—”

A strangled noise fights to leave your chest, heavy where it sits trapped, the words forcing the warmth in the pit of your belly to bloom, explode, shattering every wall you’d built up in the past few weeks. 

“I love you,” it’s a broken whisper, an admission you can’t keep inside any longer. A little louder, a little firmer, “I love you.” 

He smiles into the kiss he plants on your lips, “Yeah?” 

“Hey,” Wooyoung interjects, hands cupping your cheeks to tilt you backward, “I love you, too.” 

You’d smile if San didn’t pick up speed all over again, instead you’re babbling a mess of I love you, I love you too into Wooyoung’s mouth, lips barely touching enough to call it a kiss, so mindless and breathless and overwhelmed all you can do is feel. 

Wooyoung’s hand leaves your cheek to sink between yours and San’s bodies, two fingers pressed to your clit, swirling tight circles on the bundles of nerves. Your body fights to jerk between them, trapped between sweat and muscle, head lolling backward on Wooyoung’s shoulder, eyes squeezed shut. 

San switches his angle, strong arms tilting your hips upward to fuck into you harder, to angle his cock to hit the sweet spot inside you, building the pit of pressure of your stomach with purpose. 

Your eyes blow wide, breath quickening, “San— Sannie—”

“C’mon,” he encourages, sitting backward to fuck into you faster, “Lemme feel it, want it.” 

Incoherent babbles and the clenching of your cunt has your hands reaching for his forearms, fingernails pressing into his skin, all while Wooyoung keeps his pace on your clit, rhythm perfect, pressure nothing short of unbearable. 

“Woo— Sannie—” you don’t know who to cry for, hips fighting to meet San’s thrusts, grinding into Wooyoung’s fingers, “I’m gonna cum.” 

“Let go, baby,” Wooyoung’s voice is light and encouraging but he’s babbling as if San was fucking him, “let him feel it, he wants it so bad, he loves it, loves you.” 

Breath caught in your chest, your jaw drops as your pleasure hits its peak, meeting San’s gaze as your orgasm washes over you like a fucking hurricane, utterly speechless as your legs shake in the open air, inescapable euphoria reaching every inch of skin. 

“Fuck, Shy,” San groans, “you’re so fucking sexy, oh my god, oh my god—”

You don’t have time to respond before Wooyoung is kissing you again, tilting your head backward with one hand as San extends your orgasm with every thrust of his cock, Wooyoung’s fingers slowing on your clit, letting you ride it out until you’re a whining, twitching mess. 

“Fuck,” you mutter harshly, letting Wooyoung guide the sloppy kiss as San’s hips stutter, rhythm quickening to something ruthless, chasing his own high, a selfish pace. 

“Gonna fill this pussy up,” San’s babbling, “all mine, mine to fill,” his voice is somewhere far, deep in the moment, “I love it, love you, my Shygirl, shit—”

Erratic thrusts come to a hilt, stalling fully seated, you moan softly into Wooyoung’s mouth as heavy warmth fills you steadily, making you shiver. 

You break away from Wooyoung to look at San, eyelids low but you couldn’t miss the way his skin glows, as if you poured water over a sculpture made of gold, you stare in awe at his heaving chest, how his abdomen still clenches, flexing each muscle. 

“Pretty,” the word is mindless, said through a breath. 

He leans down, pressing his palms to the bed on either side of you, attaching your lips in a slow, steady kiss. “That’s you,” he whispers, “my pretty girl.” 

He picks his head up to Wooyoung behind you, pressing a kiss to his lips, too. “My pretty boy.” 

Wooyoung holds him close, you feel him melt under San’s touch, his words. “I love you,” Wooyoung mumbles, half-heard to you because he says it into San’s mouth, “so much.” 

“I love you too, baby,” San presses one more kiss to his lips before he plants one on your forehead, “and I love you, too.” 

“Do you really?” The question is pure instinct, “Like, actually?” 

“Baby,” he says it like it’s obvious, like it’s silly for you to even question it. “I’ve spent my whole life loving you.” 

There's a heaviness to your chest, the same tightness you felt when he said it earlier, it travels to your throat, the heat under your eyes pushing water into your lash line. 

“No,” he says softly, “don’t cry.”

You can’t help your smile, sniffling, giggling as two tears spill down your cheeks, “Why didn’t you tell me?” 

“Hold on,” his voice is still delicate, like glass, he sits back on his knees to carefully slip out of you, “come up here.” 

You move with Wooyoung, the younger man half carrying you to the top of the bed, your heads falling into your pillows, their bodies on either side of you in your queen-sized bed like it was big enough to fit all three of you. 

Your back is halfway pressed up against San, eyes hazy and low with Wooyoung in view, you ask him, “And you?” 

His smile is soft but his face reads relief like he’s been sitting on this information for ages. “I’ve loved you probably since I moved in, but I’ve wanted you since the day I met you.”

“That I knew,” you sniff, giggling again, turning your head up to see San who’s staring at you like you’re his entire world, “why didn’t you guys tell me?” 

“It’s not an easy thing to say,” there’s a small, apologetic smile on his lips. 

Wooyoung adds, “When we started living together I just assumed we were friend-zoned forever. When San and I got together, like, half of our relationship was based on the fact that we both still loved you while loving each other.” 

San’s arm wraps around your front, tucking you further into him, “When you’re best friends and roommates and a little too close for comfort, it’s hard to not fall in love.” 

“Especially when all of those things are you,” Wooyoung adds, shuffling towards you like he couldn’t get close enough, “why didn’t you tell us how you felt?”

“Because you started fucking dating each other,” you answer like you’ve been waiting for the question, amusement overshadowing the truth to your words, “I didn’t think I was invited to the party.” 

Wooyoung leans in to press a kiss to your forehead, he looks at you when he pulls away, so much love and honesty swirling in chocolate it makes you shiver, but because he’s Wooyoung, he starts singing, “I only threw this party for you, only threw this party for you, for you for you…”

You snort, giggling into San’s chest, and the older man continues, loud and proud, “You could watch me pull up on your body like it’s summer take my clothes off in the water—”

You join him, just as loud and maybe even prouder, “—splash around and get you blessed like holy water, I don’t know what you’ve been waitin’ for, you know that I’ve been waitin’ for you.” 

Wooyoung laughs, turning on his back, you watch how his chest expands and falls with each loud, obnoxious cackle. He turns his head to face you, “If you think about it, that song is kinda us.” 

“I think that song is Jay Gatsby,” you correct him, “I’m kinda Jay Gatsby and you guys are kinda Daisy Buchanan.” 

“No, we’re Jay Gatsby and you’re Daisy Buchanan,” San says a little more confidently than you did, “we threw the party and you didn't come.” 

“Oh we are not arguing about this,” you turn your head to furrow your brows at him, reiterating, “but let the records show that I was not invited to said party.” 

Wooyoung is quick with his answer, “We only threw the damn party for you.” 

It’s like nothing has changed. 

Curled up on the chaise of the couch, you in the corner, Wooyoung’s head on your lap with his leg stretched one way, San’s head is between your legs with both of your bodies laid out the other way. 

Dirty Dancing is playing on the flatscreen across the room, Sweetie cozy right beneath you, on the hardwood floor with his body pressed up against the deck of the couch, everything, everyone you love is in one room. 

A month of being together, the only thing that’s changed in your relationship is where you sleep, and that you kiss— and fuck, entirely too much for a typical honeymoon phase, but as San says, you’re making up for lost time.

Waking up together, going to work together, sleeping together, you wonder after years of being attached at the hip how you don’t feel tired of them. You suppose you never could, the two men being fibers of your being, embedded into you like the essence of your own being, it’s more that you can’t live without them. 

And the more you think about it, the more you wonder how you didn’t notice it sooner. So hyper focused on what you want, you couldn’t realize what you already had, there was a reason your relationship has always been too close for comfort. 

But now you have them, and you love them, and they fucking love you— they are not afraid to show it, they’d scream it to the rooftops if you let them. Sometimes you almost do let them, just to let the feeling sink in a little further, to let their love overflow the gap in your chest that’s been full for a month now. 

One hand in San’s hair, the other drawing shapes into Wooyoung’s chest, a thought dawns on you. You ask, “Hey, remember that night at Steer?” Their heads tilt toward, eyeing you over their eyebrows, nodding. “Whatever happened to Yunho?” 

Wooyoung snorts, San shakes his head, it makes you giggle. Wooyoung answers, “I told him his work was done and that we could take it from there.” 

“His work was done?” You question, “What work?”

“You told him you love us the night you went on the date with him, right?” San suddenly asks, looking over his forehead at you once more. You nod like this was common information and he laughs so loud it makes Sweetie sit up on his hind legs. 

“I told you, you called me schizophrenic!” San shouts over the couch at Wooyoung, sitting up on an elbow, “I knew it, my Shy senses were tingling.” 

“Shy senses?” You ask, a question ignored. 

Wooyoung sits up too, eyes wide, “Wha—? Maybe you should be a detective, Sannie, I’m serious.” 

“What are you talking about?” You ask a little louder, “Inform me right this second, please.” 

“I know you so well it’s scary,” San lays back down, one hand lazily thrown over the side of the couch to scratch Sweetie’s head, calming him. “Like the back of my hand, baby.” 

His words make you smile, settling back into the couch again. Wooyoung turns on his elbow to see you, “San knew that Yunho knew,” he shakes his head, “with literally no proof, just vibes. Scary.” 

You run your hands through his hair, your smile completely teasing, “You’ll get there, baby. One more decade.” 

Wooyoung’s top lip curls, “Not you, too. I know you just as well, if not better than San—”

San’s head picks up with a gasp, “You do not—!”

Your giggles cut through their bickering, “You’re both stupid, I love you.” 

“We love you too,” they mumble, settling back into their positions on the couch, where your hands fell to their hair, scratching their scalps into silence. Your smile stays as your head lifts back to the movie across the room, not actually watching, too consumed with contentment and that lovesick feeling in your stomach. 

Yours. Finally. 

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voices blur together into one long sound. music thuds through the walls, the rhythm steady. someone laughs too loudly, then too far away.

yuma hooks an arm loosely around your shoulder as you pass the kitchen. “you’re leaving already?” he asks, as if he’s offended.

“i’m tired,” you say, speech slurred like his from the alcohol you’ll regret in the morning. 

“you’re always tired,” he replies, but he doesn’t let go.

nicholas is a step behind you both, quieter, slower. he’s drunk in a way that doesn’t show much, more subtle than you and yuma. “upstairs,” he says, not asking.

you glance back at him. “yeah.”

yuma lets out a satisfied hum, guiding you toward the stairs like he always does when three of you to leave together. “my room’s closer,” he says, already starting up.

“of course it is,” nicholas mutters. 

you catch the way yuma looks back at him over his shoulder; quick, amused, like they’re having a separate conversation that you’re not apart of. you follow anyway, brushing it off. maybe you’re so drunk that you’re imagining things. 

by the time you reach the hallway upstairs, the noise from below is just a low hum, muffled through the walls. 

yuma stumbles slightly into the wall as he turns, laughing under his breath. “we survived.”

“barely,” you say as you stop behind him. 

nicholas steps past you both, opening his bedroom door, rather than yuma’s, without hesitation. “come in, or don’t.” 

it isn’t really an invitation but yuma already follows him in. it’s his bedroom after all. 

you hesitate for half a second too long. nicholas notices. of course he does.

“you coming in?” he asks, quieter now. his voice is softer, a subtle change in tone from when he spoke to yuma. 

your throat feels dry for no good reason. “yeah,” you mutter as you walk past the doorway. the door shuts behind you, and the sound of the party disappears completely.

the room is dim, messy like you would expect a frat guy’s room. clothes on a chair, a half-empty bottle on the desk, the faint smell of alcohol still in the air like it’s clinging to everything.

yuma flops onto the bed immediately, spreading out like he owns it. “this is a terrible idea,” he says with a huff.

“you followed me,” nicholas says.

“exactly,” yuma replies, grinning.

you’re still standing near the door. it feels different, like there’s tension so thick it could be cut with a knife. 

nicholas moves first, shutting the door properly this time. the click sounds too final in the quiet. he leans back against it for a second, eyes flicking to you, not lingering anywhere else.

just you.

“you’re still standing there,” he says, moving to sit on the edge of his bed. 

“yeah,” you reply, but it comes out softer than you mean it to.

yuma pats the space between him and nicholas on the bed. “sit down. you look like you’re about to fall over.” 

“i’m fine.”

“you’re swaying,” he corrects.

you don’t deny it because, well, you are. so you sit.

you’re sat between them again, like it’s become the only natural place for you to end up tonight. yuma sits up, the mattress dipping under his weight. 

yuma’s shoulder presses into yours without asking permission. nicholas sits a little straighter, but not farther away. your knee brushes his when you adjust.

no one moves it.

the room is so silent you could hear a pin drop. it’s tense, like the air is waiting for someone to break first.

yuma exhales slowly, watching you more than anything else in the room. “you’re doing that thing again.”

you look at him. “what thing?”

his smile is lazy, but his eyes aren’t. “thinking too hard.”

nicholas’s voice comes quieter. “you’ve been like that all night.”

you swallow. “i’m just sitting here,” you say.

“yeah,” yuma murmurs, leaning back on his hands, “that’s the problem.”

nicholas finally looks at you fully. not the room. not yuma. you.

your breath catches a little too late to hide it, but yuma notices anyway. he always does. and this time, when his hand lands behind you on the bed, it doesn’t feel like an accident anymore.

nicholas’ eyes flicker down to your lips, pink and glossy. you notice, of course you do. it’s obvious from the way your cheeks burn up. before you can process what’s happening, his lips crash onto yours.

yuma is still sat on your right, hand moving to your thigh. you tense up at first, lips still moving against nicholas’. 

nicholas pulls away reluctantly, a soft whine escaping your lips as he does. he chuckles, though he’s a little nervous deep inside. “is this okay?” he asks, trying to read you. the last thing he’d want is for you to be uncomfortable. 

you nod immediately; it’s almost embarrassing how bad you want this. yuma’s hand still massages your thigh, hands creeping closer to your heat. “you’re wet already,” he mumbles as his hand moves past your skirt, fingers brushing against the damp part of your panties. 

you just whimper in response, overwhelmed, your heart beating in your chest louder than the music downstairs. “s-shut up,” you stutter. 

to your left, nicholas chuckles again, the sound sending a jolt to your cunt. “you’ve been thinking about this for a while, huh?” he asks, his voice smooth. 

your cheeks heat up yet again-you’re sure you’re as red as an apple. “no—“ you start, but he cuts you off. “don’t lie,” he says, less soft than before. 

you swallow thickly. you open your lips to speak, but yuma’s fingers push your soaked panties to the side to slide through your folds, causing you to moan. “you’re so wet,” he mumbles. without warning, two of his fingers plunge into your tight hole. your back arches, a loud whimper escaping your lips before nicholas muffles it with another kiss. 

the room fills with the sound of your moans, and of yuma’s long fingers pumping in and out of your heat. “so wet already,” he murmurs as he watches you and nicholas. “needy little baby,” he continues. “dripping from just being alone with your two best friends, huh?”

you whimper pathetically against nicholas’ lips. yuma sighs with frustration. he wants your attention too. he curls his fingers inside of you sharply. “stop ignoring me,” he grits out. 

you reluctantly pull away from nicholas, moaning yet again from yuma’s actions. “i-i.. yes, fuck,” you barely manage to get out. you don’t even know what you’re saying at this point. 

yuma groans and pulls his fingers out without any warning. his other hand grips your jaw, pulling you closer to his face. “open,” he says, bringing his fingers covered in your juices up to your lips. and you do, lips parting immediately and wrapping around his fingers. he groans at the feeling of your wet, warm mouth. 

to your left nicholas is watching the scene unfold in front of him. like yuma, his pants are starting to tighten quickly. but he decides to be patient, he doesn’t want to scare you off. 

yuma stands up, pulling his fingers out of your mouth, a soft pop sound coming from your lips. “up,” he says. you freeze, looking at nicholas. he just nods, signaling that it’s okay. you know they’d never do anything to hurt you. you stand up, nicholas’ hand on the small of your back. yuma looks over at the bed before his eyes meet yours again. “get on the bed, on your hands and knees,” he commands. 

your knees nearly buckle, your breath catching in your throat. but you obey, slowly moving to the side of nicholas’ twin sized bed, getting on your hands and knees. nicholas shifts, moving so he’s sitting where your head is. on the other hand, yuma walks up behind you. he pushes your skirt above your ass, groaning at the sight. while he’s there, he tugs your panties off, tossing them to an unknown area of nicholas’ room. 

“so eager,” he mutters as he sees you clench around nothing. you can hear him messing with his belt, the sound of the metal shooting to your pussy. he tugs it off, tugging his pants and boxers with it. you look behind you, and see his hand immediately wrap around his cock—it’s thick, not the longest but bigger than anything you’ve ever taken. you gulp, feeling your cheeks heat up again. 

nicholas notices your nervousness and he cups your cheek, caressing it with his thumb. “it’s okay,” he mumbles as he watches you closely. 

“the safe word is red,” yuma says from behind you. your chest tightens, you’re not sure if it’s from excitement or nervousness, or a mix of both. but you just nod in response, a quiet “okay” slipping out. 

yuma’s hand gropes the flesh of your ass, his other hand bringing his cock to your entrance. he rubs the tip against your folds, groaning at the feeling. it’s so slick, so eager to take him. and it does. he pushes in smoothly, the wetness from your cunt making it easy for him to push inside. you let out a loud moan, sending a jolt to nicholas’ crotch. 

yuma takes his time sliding in, letting you adjust to his size. but he’s impatient, he always has been. he doesn’t wait for you to give him the go before he starts to pull out a bit, pushing in and out of your pussy at a painfully slow pace. all you can do is moan, hands gripping the sheets underneath you. 

the younger man looks to your right; nicholas palming himself over his jeans. nicholas groans quietly at the sight of you taking yuma’s cock.. yuma notices, smirking to himself as he watches the older man. they look at each other, speaking to each other with just their eyes as they always do. nicholas undoes his belt carefully, standing up to tug bis jeans and boxers down. you look up, mouth watering at the sight. ‘shit,’ you think to yourself. he’s huge, bigger than yuma. hes a bit thinner, but much longer. you swallow thickly, eyes looking up to his. he just looks down at you, hand moving up and down the base of his cock, looking at you like you’re the most beautiful thing in the world. 

yuma watches, his cock twitching inside of you at the sight. he feels you clench around him as you stare at nicholas’ cock. “you g’na put that pretty mouth to use and suck nico off?” yuma asks, grunting from how your pussy wraps around him so nicely. 

all you can do is let out a pathetic moan and nod, lips parting immediately as nicholas’ hand cups the underside of your chin. he grips his cock, rubbing the precum on his tip all over your lips. he groans, feeling your tongue dart out, lapping at his tip like a starved woman. he pushes in further, filling your warm, wet mouth with his length. his head is thrown back, cursing under his breath as he hisses. “shit, baby,” he mutters as your lips wrap around him. your moans are muffled by him filling your mouth, yuma’s hips still snapping against yours. your moans send a vibration to nicholas’ cock, his hand moving to your hair to grip it tightly. 

the room fills with the sound of both men moaning and grunting, both of their hips thrusting towards you. nicholas is more gentle, moving slowly but still thrusting his cock into your mouth as he watches you. yuma, on the other hand, is rough. his hands tightly grip your hips; you’ll definitely have marks in the morning. 

yuma’s pace starts to pick up, his movements becoming sloppier as he watches nicholas’ cock disappear into your mouth. nicholas looks over at him, his eyes meeting yuma’s. “don’t tell me this is turning you on,” he laughs, causing yuma’s grip on your hips to tighten.

“s-shut the fuck up,” yuma grits out as he keeps dragging his dick in and out of your cunt. nicholas just chuckles, cradling your face as he continues his slow movements. 

“oh c’mon yu,” nicholas says, suppressing his moans as you hollow your cheeks around his cock. “you can be honest, you’ve thought about me fucking your mouth, too, huh? don’t worry, you’ll get your turn too.”

yuma whimpers in response, his hips snapping harshly against yours, causing you to take nicholas’ cock deeper in your throat. he doesn’t know if it’s the alcohol in his system or the feeling of your wet heat around him, but his cheeks flush and he’s a whimpering mess now. “shit--shit ah, ‘m cumming,” he moans at a high pitch, eyes squeezing shut as ropes of cum fill you up. you moan from the feeling, your orgasm following soon after. you moan around nicholas’ cock, your walls fluttering around yuma, accidentally overstimulating him a bit. you gasp, nicholas’ length slipping out of your mouth. he hisses, but let’s you come down from your high. he watches you, brushing the hair out of your face as he continues to stroke his cock. “take a break baby, hm?” he whispers to you as you look up at him, catching your breath. you just nod, laying on your stomach as you watch nicholas. 

he moves to the other side of the bed where yuma is, watching the younger one pull out of you with a groan. he grips yuma’s collar, pulling him in for a kiss. yuma moans against his lips, reciprocating it. it’s a hungry, messy kiss. you roll over onto your back, eyes darting up to them immediately. you feel a heat rush to your core, causing your thighs to squeeze together. they don’t notice yet, too lost in each other. nicholas pulls away and yuma whines lightly as if wanting a little more from the older man. nicholas can’t help but smirk as he pulls away from the kiss. “lay on your back,” he tells yuma, who scrambles to get on the bed immediately. he lays on his back and nicholas adjusts him, yuma’s head hanging off of the bed. “gonna put this mouth to good use,” he murmurs before he slaps his cock on his cheek. yuma’s plump lips part, nearly drooling as his eyes stare up at nicholas’ length.

yuma’s lips part automatically, allowing nicholas to shove his cock in his mouth. nicholas hisses quietly, feeling yuma’s lips wrap around him tightly. while they’re busy, you crawl over to yuma, watching him harden. your hand gently grabs his length, pumping it slowly, causing yuma to moan around nicholas. nicholas bucks his hips, groaning from the vibrations. he watches you, watching you tug your skirt off and move onto yuma’s lap, hovering over his cock. 

yuma whimpers around nicholas as he sucks him off, feeling you line his length up with your entrance. one hand is on his stomach to hold yourself up as you slowly sink down, adjusting to his size again. you bite your lip, suppressing your noises. nicholas watches closely, his dick twitching in yuma’s mouth. while you adjust, your hands both move to his stomach to hold yourself up. your head fell forward, gasping as you bottomed out. 

you felt yuma twitch inside of you as you clenched around him, overwhelmed from the feeling. he slipped in so easily from the mix of your cum from your earlier round. you started to ride yuma at a slow pace, grinding on his lap. the sounds coming from where your bodies met was erotic, so wet. the room filled with the sounds of the three of you moaning and your skin slapping.

yuma knew he wouldn’t last long, and nicholas was coming to his climax as well. he leaned forward, causing his dick to push further in yumas mouth. he slowly thrusted his cock into yuma’s mouth as he grabbed your face, kissing you hungrily. you moaned against each others lips, your pussy clenching more around yuma as nicholas’ tongue entered your mouth. you sucked on his tongue, your saliva mixing. 

you felt yuma’s hand smacking at your thigh, his moans getting louder. he was about to cum again, deep inside of you. his hips thrusted up against yours, fucking you from below. you whimpered around nicholas’ mouth, the older man pulling away reluctantly. before he could speak, yuma’s cum filled you up again, your tight walls milking him. he whimpered and moaned around nicholas as he emptied his cum into you. you felt the warmth filling you, causing you to moan. but, you hadn’t cum yet. 

nicholas noticed, still slowly moving his cock in and out of yuma’s mouth. “don’t stop riding him,” he instructed as he pulled out of the younger’s mouth. and who were you to disobey nicholas? you kept riding yuma, overstimulating the poor boy. his hands gripped your hips, trying to stop you but you kept riding. nicholas watched, stroking his dick at a fast pace as he watched. he knew you were close, as was he. 

yuma twitches under you, whining from the overwhelming feeling as you continue to chase your orgasm. you feel a knot form in your stomach, causing you to once again clench around him. “f–fuck hurry up!” he whimpers at you, fingers digging into the curve of your ass. 

“ngh–f-fuck, cumming,” you whined at a high pitch, feeling your orgasm about to crash. nicholas leaned forward again, jerking his heavy dick over yuma’s face as he crashed his lips against yours. your walls spasmed around yuma, whimpering and moaning against nicholas’ lips as you rode out your high. nicholas came as well, white ropes shooting onto yuma’s stomach and chest. he groaned against your lips, a string of saliva pulling as he pulled away. 

your body felt weak, nearly falling over. nicholas caught you, chuckling as he helped you pull off of yuma and lay on his bed. yuma panted quietly, as did you. he looked down at his chest and stomach, his cheeks turning red at the sight of nicholas’ cum on him. “really?” he groans, looking up at nicholas as he sits on the bed between you. 

nicholas laughs, “what? don’t act like you didn’t like it.” yuma grabs a pillow and chucks it at nicholas, causing you to giggle next to them. 

“fine fine, you big baby. i’ll get a rag,” he says as he stands up, heading to his bathroom. while he’s gone, you lean over, looking at yuma’s flushed face. curious, you move closer, lowering your head to lick the cum. you hum, the salty taste hitting your tastebuds. he whines softly, feeling his dick harden for a third time.

his fingers tangled in your hair, tugging at it gently. he didn’t want you to stop, but he didn’t know if he could handle more. you ignored his tugs, licking his skin clean. his lips parted to speak, but nicholas clearing his throat caught his and your attention. you looked up at him, a wet rag in his hand as he sighed. “i guess this is gonna be a long night,” he murmured. 

tags: @dreemxz

Lee Felix doesn’t smoke often, but his friend Jisung does—as religiously as he deals—which is exactly how Felix ended up incorporating Jisung’s product into his baking. It started innocently enough; cookies, brownies, blondies. Then he moved on to infused butters and oils, experimenting with anything he could create in his kitchen. Pretty soon, word spread about the quality of his edibles, and Felix found himself splitting Jisung’s profits fifty-fifty. Not that either of them needed the money—it was more of a hobby than anything else, a side hustle that kept things interesting.

You met Felix on an ordinary Tuesday that becomes decidedly less ordinary the moment you slide into the black Jeep Jisung had sent you a picture of. Except it’s not Jisung waiting for you. The driver’s seat is occupied by possibly the prettiest person you’ve ever seen in your life; long blonde hair cascading past his shoulders in waves so lustrous you briefly wonder if Jisung sent his girlfriend to do the drop. He’s wearing a black and white striped sweater that somehow makes him look even more angelic and when he turns to look at you, you’re struck by delicate features that belong on a runway or in a K-drama, not in a dealer’s car.

“You must be—” he starts and then he speaks, and you swear to God you feel your soul leave your body.

His voice is deep. Impossibly, unfairly deep—like molten lava poured over gravel, like whiskey and honey and sin. It doesn’t match that pretty face at all and the cognitive dissonance is so extreme that you just sit there, frozen, while he smiles knowingly and hands you a carefully packaged bag.

“First time meeting me?” There’s amusement in those dark eyes, like he’s used to this reaction.

You manage to nod, accept the package and somehow exit the vehicle without making a complete fool of yourself, though it’s a close thing. You’re sure—absolutely certain—that you felt a heartbeat between your legs that had nothing to do with your actual pulse.

Your text to Jisung that night isn’t even about the edibles.

You: who the FUCK was that You: your pretty friend with the voice You: does he have a girlfriend Hanji 🍃: lmaooo you met Felix Hanji 🍃: no gf Hanji 🍃: but good luck he’s picky You: the pretty one, right? blonde hair?

You have to be specific because you’ve met Jisung’s friends Chan and Changbin before and they’re both objectively hot but Felix is something else entirely.

Hanji 🍃: yeah, that’s him Hanji 🍃: why are you interested? You: why do you THINK?

After that, you start seeing Felix everywhere. At your favorite café, where he’s always ordering something complicated and sweet. At bars and clubs on nights out with your friends, where he’s inevitably surrounded by his own crew—you’ve learned their names by now, apart from Chan,Changbin and Jisung there’s Minho, Hyunjin, Seungmin and Jeongin. They’re loud and chaotic and clearly close, the kind of friend group that makes other people want to be part of their orbit.

Nobody at those cafés or clubs would ever guess what Felix does in his free time. Nobody would believe that the boy with the sweet smile and the expensive sweaters is the one creating those edibles that has half the campus obsessed and they definitely wouldn’t believe what you eventually discover. That behind that baby-faced exterior is someone who fucks you silly on the regular, talking you through it in that devastating voice of his, telling you what a good girl you are while you fall apart beneath him.

But that comes later, first, there’s the slow burn.

Felix doesn’t usually do drops, that’s Jisung’s domain but ever since he met you, he’s been volunteering every single time an order comes through with your name attached. Jisung and the others tease him mercilessly about it.

“Just admit you like her,” Changbin says one night while they’re playing video games at Chan’s apartment.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” Felix replies, not looking up from his phone, where he’s absolutely checking to see if you’ve texted.

“You literally never did drops before,” Hyunjin points out. “Now you’re doing them weekly.”

Felix just shrugs, a small smile playing at his lips. If you end up with extra goodies in your orders—an additional brownie here, a free chocolate bar there—that’s nobody’s business but his.

The first time you really flirt with him—not just awkward stammering but actual, intentional flirting—he shows up to the drop with his hair in braided twists. A few pieces have escaped to frame his face, but the rest is pulled up in a bun that shows off an undercut you didn’t even know he had. It’s unfairly attractive and you tell him so.

“You look like you’re straight out of my favorite books,” you say, leaning against the Jeep’s door frame instead of immediately leaving like usual.

His eyebrows rise with interest. “Yeah? Which book?”

“A court of thorns and roses or The Mortal Instruments,haven’t decided,” you admit, then immediately feel your face heat because that sounds ridiculous out loud but Felix just grins, devastating and dangerous.

“Should I be flattered or concerned?”

“Depends. Have you read either?”

“Not yet,” he says, and there’s a promise in those two words that makes your stomach flip.

Later, you’ll learn that he downloaded all the books that very night. That he read ACOTAR in four days and that he has opinions about Rhysand and Cassian. He definitely thinks he could pull off that Jace Wayland character too.

After that, something shifts.

Felix starts showing up in rings, thick silver bands on his fingers that catch the light. You’re pretty sure he caught you staring at his hands once and now he’s doing it on purpose. He’ll drum his fingers on the steering wheel while you count out cash or run a hand through his hair in a way that draws your attention exactly where he wants it.

He uses his voice like a weapon, dropping it even lower when he says your name, dragging out syllables until you’re practically squirming in the passenger seat.

“Enjoy these,” he’ll say, handing over your order with a knowing smirk. “I made them extra strong.”

The flirting becomes a game. You show up in his favorite color—you’ve done reconnaissance—he wears that cologne that makes you want to lean closer. You laugh at his jokes a little too enthusiastically, he lets his fingers brush yours when exchanging packages, contact lingering just a second too long.

Jisung finally gives you Felix’s number after weeks of this mutual torture.

Hanji 🍃: im sick of being the middleman Hanji 🍃: just text him Hanji 🍃: [Contact: Felix ☀️]

You stare at the number for three days and don’t text him. It’s a power play, maybe, or self-preservation because texting him feels like admitting something, like crossing a line from customer-dealer into something far more complicated. Felix notices, of course he does and at the next drop, he calls you out on it.

“Han said he gave you my number,” he says casually, like he’s commenting on the weather.

“He did.”

“But you haven’t used it.”

“Nope.”

A pause. Then that devastating smile. “Scared?”

“Of you? Please.”

“Then what’s stopping you?”

You don’t have a good answer for that, so you deflect. “Maybe I like the mystery. The anticipation.”

“The anticipation,” he repeats slowly, and the way his voice wraps around those syllables should be illegal. “Interesting strategy.”

“Is it working?”

He laughs, low and rich and entirely unfair. “What do you think?”

It’s another two weeks before things finally, finally come to a head. You run into him at a club—not a planned drop, not a business transaction, just pure coincidence. You’re with your friends, he’s with his and there’s definitely enough alcohol in your system to make you brave.

You approach him at the bar.

“Felix.”

He turns, recognizes you immediately, and his whole face lights up in a way that makes your heart stutter. “Hey.”

“Fancy meeting you here.”

“Could say the same.” He’s drinking something amber-colored and there’s a slight flush to his cheeks that makes him look even more unfairly pretty. “Having fun?”

“I am now.”

It’s a terrible line but it works. Felix’s eyes darken with interest and he shifts closer—close enough that you can smell his cologne, feel the heat radiating off him.

“You’re flirting with me,” he observes.

“I’ve been flirting with you for weeks.”

“I know.” His smile is absolutely wicked. “I’ve been waiting for you to do something about it.”

“Like what?”

He leans in, lips brushing your ear. “Like text me. Like ask me out. Like stop playing games and admit you want this.”

Your breath catches. “Want what?”

“Me.” He pulls back just enough to meet your eyes and the confidence there—the absolute certainty—is intoxicating. “You want me.”

He’s not wrong.

“Maybe,” you breathe, and his laugh vibrates through your chest.

“Liar.”

And then he kisses you—or you kiss him, honestly, it’s hard to tell who moves first—and it’s everything you imagined and nothing like you expected. He tastes like whiskey and something sweet, and he kisses like he’s trying to prove a point, one hand coming up to cup your jaw while the other slides to your waist, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard.

“So,” Felix murmurs, thumb tracing your lower lip. “About that text…”

You pull out your phone with him looking, open a new message to his number, and type: Hi

His phone buzzes in his pocket. He doesn’t check it, just grins. “Hi yourself.”

“Take me home,” you say and it’s not a question.

“Thought you’d never ask.”

The drive to his apartment is charged with tension. Felix keeps one hand on the wheel and the other on your thigh, thumb drawing lazy circles that make it very hard to think straight. Every time you hit a red light, he looks over at you with dark eyes and that small, knowing smile that promises everything.

His apartment is nicer than you expected; clean, modern, smelling faintly of whatever he’d been baking earlier. You barely get a chance to take it in before he’s on you, backing you against the door the moment it closes, mouth hot and insistent against yours.

“Been thinking about this,” he murmurs against your lips, hands sliding under your shirt. “Since the first time you got in my car.”

“Liar,” you gasp as his mouth moves to your neck. “You didn’t even know me.”

“Didn’t need to.” His teeth graze your pulse point and you actually whimper. “Knew I wanted you.”

He walks you backward toward his bedroom, leaving a trail of discarded clothing in your wake. By the time the back of your knees hit his bed, you’re down to your underwear and he’s shirtless, and the sight of him—all lean muscle and golden skin—makes your mouth go dry.

“You okay?” he asks, and there’s genuine concern beneath the desire in his eyes.

“More than okay,” you assure him, reaching up to pull him down to you.

What follows is honestly transcendent. Felix is attentive and thorough, learning exactly what makes you fall apart and then exploiting that knowledge ruthlessly. And that voice, God, that voice.

“That’s it, baby,” he murmurs as you arch beneath him, his fingers working between your legs expertly. “Let me hear you. Let me hear how good I’m making you feel.”

You can’t help but obey, your sounds getting progressively louder as he builds you higher and higher.

“Look at you,” he continues, voice dropping even lower. “Taking my fingers so well. Gonna take something else for me soon?”

You nod frantically, beyond words at this point.

“Use your words. Need to hear you say it.”

“Yes,” you gasp. “Please, Lix, I need—”

“I know what you need.” He withdraws his fingers and you actually sob at the loss but then he’s positioning himself and slowly, torturously slowly, pushing inside. The stretch is perfect, overwhelming, and you grip his shoulders hard enough to leave marks.

“Breathe,” he instructs, voice strained. “Just breathe, baby. You’re doing so good for me. Taking me so well.”

He sets a rhythm that has you seeing stars, and he doesn’t stop talking—praising you, telling you how incredible you feel, how perfect you are, asking what you need and then giving it to you before you can even answer.

“There you go,” he says when you finally shatter, clenching around him. “That’s my good girl. So beautiful when you come for me.”

The possessive tone in his voice combined with the praise sends aftershocks through you, and he follows shortly after with a broken groan that you file away in your memory to revisit later. After, he takes care of you; gentle and sweet, cleaning you up and pulling you against his chest. His fingers trace idle patterns on your skin.

“Stay,” he says quietly. It’s not really a question, but you answer anyway. “Okay.”

It becomes a regular thing. Not every night, but often enough that you start keeping a toothbrush at his place. Often enough that his friends start giving him knowing looks when you show up. Often enough that when you place an order through Jisung, Felix shows up with a separate bag.

“What’s this?” you ask, taking the unmarked package.

“Yours,” he says simply. “Made you your own batch.”

You blink at him. “Felix, I haven’t paid you for—”

“I know.” He cuts you off with a kiss. “You’re not going to.”

“But—”

“Not up for debate.”

Later, when Jisung finds out, he corners Felix at Chan’s apartment.

“Dude, you made her a separate batch? And you’re not charging her?”

“So?”

“So? So that’s girlfriend privileges, boyfriend behavior, Felix.”

“She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Does she know that?” Changbin chimes in from the couch. “Because you two are together, like, all the time.”

“We’re just hooking up,” Felix insists, but even he can hear how weak it sounds.

“Sure,” Hyunjin says, not looking up from his phone. “That’s why you read an entire fantasy series because she mentioned it once. Very casual.”

Felix flips him off but doesn’t deny it.

The thing is, he’s right, you’re not dating. You’ve never had the conversation, never put labels on whatever this is. You just…exist in each other’s spaces. He comes to your place; you go to his. You meet up at parties and leave together. Your friends know him, his friends know you.

Everyone assumes you’re together. You’re not.

You’re also not seeing anyone else, and neither is he but that’s semantics. It works, this arrangement. It’s easy and comfortable and the intimacy is incredible. Felix knows your body like he’s studied it—knows that you like when he pins your wrists, when he uses that voice, when he takes his time working you up until you’re begging.

“Please,” you whimper one night, writhing beneath him as he edges you for what feels like the hundredth time.

“Please what?” His voice is velvet and sin. “Use your words, sunny.”

“Please let me come. I’ve been so good, haven’t I?”

“You have,” he agrees, thumb circling but not quite hitting where you need it. “You’ve been such a good girl for me. Think you’ve earned it?”

“Yes, please, Lix, I need—”

“I know, baby, I know.” And then he finally, finally gives it to you, and you come so hard you see white.

After, while you’re both catching your breath, he pulls you against his chest and presses a kiss to your temple. It’s intimate in a way that feels different from the sex—softer, more tender.

“You’re incredible,” he murmurs into your hair.

You want to ask what this is, what you are to each other, but you don’t. The words stick in your throat, too heavy and too frightening.

So you just burrow closer and let it be.

Five Months In

The problem starts at a club on a Saturday night.

You’re there with your friends, Felix is there with his, and everything is normal until you come back from the bathroom and see a girl practically draped over him at the bar. She’s gorgeous—model-tall with perfect hair and a dress that should be illegal and she’s touching his arm, leaning close to say something that makes him laugh.

Your stomach drops.

You have no right to be jealous, you’re not together. You’ve never established exclusivity. For all you know, he’s been seeing other people this whole time; he hasn’t. You know he hasn’t because you’re together almost every night but logic has no place in the jealous spiral you’re currently experiencing.

One of your friends, Mina, follows your gaze and winces. “Oh, babe…”

“It’s fine,” you say, voice brittle. “We’re not dating.”

“You’re basically dating.”

“Basically, isn’t the same as actually.” You turn away, ordering a shot you don’t want and downing it anyway. Then another and another.

“Maybe you should talk to him,” your other friend suggests gently.

“And say what? ‘Hey, I know we never discussed being exclusive, but I’m irrationally jealous of that girl you’re talking to’? That’s insane.”

“It’s not insane if you have feelings for him.”

You don’t want to examine that too closely, so you do what any rational person would do, you head to the dance floor to forget about it. You lose yourself in the music, letting the bass drown out your thoughts. You’re several songs deep when someone comes up behind you, hands settling on your waist.

“Hey,” a voice says—not Felix’s voice, but nice enough. “You’re a great dancer.”

You turn to find a guy with sharp features and a playful smile. He’s attractive—not Felix-level attractive, but who is?—and more importantly, he’s interested in you and not draped over some other girl.

“Thanks,” you say, matching his energy. “You’re not bad yourself.”

His name is Wooyoung, you learn, and he’s funny and charming and keeps making you laugh. When he pulls you closer, you let him. When he suggests getting some air, you very much intend to say yes and maybe go home with him and forget all about pretty boys with deep voices and no-strings-attached arrangements.

You’re just starting to say yes when a hand wraps around your wrist.

“Sorry,” Felix’s voice cuts through the music and even though he’s addressing Wooyoung, his eyes are locked on you. “I need to borrow her.”

“Dude, we’re kind of in the middle of—” Wooyoung starts but Felix isn’t listening. He’s already pulling you away, threading through the crowd with single-minded determination. You stumble after him, anger starting to override the alcohol in your system.

“Felix, what the hell—”

He doesn’t answer, just keeps walking until you’re outside, the cool night air a shock after the heat of the club. He leads you all the way to the back of the parking lot where his Jeep is parked, away from everyone else. Only then does he let go of your wrist.

You wrench your arm away. “What the fuck was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing.” His voice is level, but there’s something dangerous underneath. “Who was that guy?”

“Are you serious right now?” You laugh, but there’s no humor in it. “You’re jealous?”

“Yes,” he says bluntly. “I’m jealous. You were going to leave with him.”

“So what if I was?” The words come out sharper than you intended, fueled by hurt and too much alcohol and three months of refusing to define whatever this is. “We’re not together, right? You can talk to whoever you want. That girl at the bar seemed really interested.”

Understanding dawns in his eyes. “Is that what this is about? Yeji?”

“I don’t know her name—”

“She’s Changbin’s cousin. She just moved here and wanted recommendations for apartments.”

Oh.

“You’re an idiot,” he continues, stepping closer. “You know that?”

“I’m an idiot? Who stands that close and touches on you to ask for apartment recs? Plus you’re the one who dragged me out of a club—”

“Because I couldn’t stand watching some guy put his hands all over you.” He’s right in front of you now, close enough that you have to tilt your head back to meet his eyes. “Because the thought of you going home with anyone else makes me want to break things.”

Your heart is pounding. “Felix,”

“I don’t want this to be casual anymore,” he says, and the vulnerability in his voice cracks something open in your chest. “I don’t want you seeing other people. I don’t want to be just hooking up.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying” He cups your face in both hands, those rings cool against your heated skin. “I want you to be my girlfriend. I’ve wanted that for a while now, but I was too chickenshit to say anything because I thought maybe you liked things the way they were.”

You let out a shaky breath. “You really are an idiot.”

And then you’re kissing him, or he’s kissing you, and it’s different from every other kiss because this one comes with the promise of more. Of labels and commitment and feelings you’ve both been too scared to name. When you finally break apart, you’re both breathing hard.

“So?” he asks, forehead pressed against yours. “Put me out of my misery. What do you say?”

“I say you’re lucky you’re pretty,” you murmur and his laugh warms you from the inside out.

“Is that a yes?”

“Yes, you idiot. Yes, I’ll be your girlfriend.”

His smile is blinding, boyish and sweet and so genuinely happy that you can’t help but smile back.

“Good,” he says, and kisses you again. “Because I really would have fought that guy.”

“Wooyoung didn’t deserve that. He was just dancing.”

“Don’t care. You’re mine now.”

The possessiveness in his voice sends a shiver down your spine, the good kind.

“Yours,” you agree and the word feels right in a way nothing else has.

He walks you backward until you’re pressed against the Jeep, his body bracketing yours as he kisses you thoroughly. His hands slide under your skirt, relearning territory they already know by heart but somehow feels different now, more significant.

“We should go back inside,” you say without conviction as his mouth moves to your neck. “Our friends will wonder where we went.”

“Let them wonder.” He bites down hard and you gasp. “I’m not done with you yet.”

“We’re in a parking lot, Felix.”

“Mmm.” He doesn’t stop his exploration. “We could be in the Jeep. Backseat’s pretty spacious.”

You should say no. You should be responsible and go back to your friends and celebrate this new development in a mature, adult way.

Instead, you hear yourself say, “Get your keys.”

His laugh is pure delight as he pulls them from his pocket.

Later—much later—when you’re both thoroughly disheveled and satisfied, he leans his forehead against yours again.

“For the record,” he says, voice rough, “it’s always been you. Since that first day. There’s never been anyone else.”

“Good,” you say, stealing another kiss. “Because I’m not sharing.”

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sunshine.” And when you finally do make it back inside, hand in hand, the knowing looks from both your friend groups are entirely worth it.

Because he’s yours now—officially, publicly, completely.

And pretty boy Lee Felix, who nobody would ever suspect is a dealer, who fucks you silly on the regular and talks you through it in that devastating voice of his?

the music hits you before anything else.

it was loud, almost making your ears ring as you step inside. the air was hot, almost insufferable with how many people there were. you glance around, clearly not wanting to be there as you turn around.

"i hate this."

maki let out a laugh before pulling you into his chest. "we just got here."

"so? i can still hate it."

his arm tightened around your waist, leaning down to kiss you. his lips making you forget that you were in the middle of a crowd. he pulled away once he felt you relax in his arms, watching as your eyes slowly blink open to meet his.

"we'll stay for just an hour, okay? just long enough to say i was here." maki said, wanting nothing more than to leave with you, but it was his friend's birthday. he told him he wouldn't miss it- something he was now regretting when he saw the pout on your lips.

"just remember you owe me food after this."

maki smiled at you, pressing a small kiss to your temple. "anything for you, shortie."

you kept to his side as he greeted people, not that he would let you go far due to his grip on your hand. his smile was bright and vibrant to others, but you could tell it was fake. he honestly didn't want to be here any more than you did, and you could tell.

he used to loved to party before you came into the picture. you had heard plenty about it from him and other people around campus, but now he almost never went. only when he was tired of people begging did he stop by, and it was never for long. he stayed for an hour or two at the most, before coming up with some excuse- though everyone knew he was going back to you.

you don't know how he had such a social battery, greeting more people than you cared to count before you ended up in the living room. maki sat down in one of the chairs before pulling you into his lap, keeping his arm around your waist while he conversed with one of his friends.

you listened, conversing when maki made you. he refused to let you feel left out, but you never did. you were more than comfortable being near him while he talks enough for both of you, and that seemed to be something he was still getting used to- even after 6 months of being together.

you started to get thirsty after a while, making you nudge maki's shoulder. "i'm going to get something to drink. want anything?"

"i'll come with you."

"maki, it's fine." you stop him before standing up. "stay here. i'll be right back."

"you better. don't make me come looking for you." his words had you smiling, leaning down to whisper in his ear.

"whatever you say, pup."

you pull back quickly, moving away from him but not before you heard a low growl. you laughed, sneaking back a glance to see him watching you. you turn the corner before making your way to the kitchen which was thankfully empty. you had just grabbed a bottle of water from the fridge when you heard a voice come from behind you.

"i haven't seen you around before." you jump, nearly dropping the water you grabbed. you turn to see some guy you haven't seen before leaning onto the kitchen doorway.

you shrug, not really wanting to converse with him, but he was blocking the exit. "probably because i don't spend all my time at parties."

"i don't either." he said, stepping fully into the kitchen. "my friends drug me here. said i need to get out more."

when he steps closer, you can see something- the small flicker of amber in his eyes. that along with his nose scrunching like he was smelling something was very familiar to you. he was like maki. a werewolf.

"are you done sniffing around?" you ask, crossing your arms. "because i'm pretty sure my wolf is already looking for me."

he acts surprised for a second, not thinking that you were aware of him before recovering. he replaces his shock with a smirk. "your wolf? why don't you smell like him then?"

"that's none of your business." you answer like it was nothing, but it wasn't. it was something you asked yourself everyday.

after 6 months of being with maki, you have learned about him and his pack. you know how things work- including mates. you've read and heard enough to know that maki waiting this long to mark you is unheard of, even if you were a human. even his pack didn't understand why he's waited so long because they could only imagine what both you and him were feeling the longer it got.

sure, you've brought it up to him. multiple times actually, but each time he said that he didn't think you were ready. at first you understood, considering that you hadn't been with anyone else prior to maki, but that understanding was long gone. you two have done some things, but not the one thing you wanted most.

"maybe it's not, but what wolf would let his mate leave his side without a claim?" he questions, leaning back onto the counter. "it sounds to me like he hasn't decided he wants you yet."

you couldn't help but roll your eyes. that was the last thing you thought when you wondered why he hasn't claimed you yet. "clearly you haven't met him then."

"yes, he has." you feel the familiar pull in your chest, the same as every time maki is close to you. you turn just in time to see him enter the kitchen, a glare on his face that softens when he looks at you. "haven't you aiden?"

you look back over your shoulder towards him. you notices that he straightened up, more serious than he was just seconds ago. that teasing smirk was replaced with a frown. "woah, man. we were just talking."

"really? because it didn't sound like it." maki says, holding out his hand for you. you don't hesitate, slipping your fingers between his before he pulls you closer to him. you could feel some of the tension leave his body with your touch, but you could still feel the anger that he was feeling.

the other wolf held out his hands, motioning towards you. "look, man. you brought her here without a claim. you know how that looks."

maki tilted his head, clearly annoyed. "i don't recall asking what you think."

"relax, maki. you know i won't go after her anymore knowing that she's yours." aiden says with a small laugh, thinking him saying that would calm maki down, but it didn't. "but you can't blame a guy, can you? she's cute and like i said, not claimed."

maki lets out a warning growl before trying to get to aiden. without question, you block him, keeping him from moving before glaring at the idiot behind you who realized that he pushed maki a little too hard. "do yourself a fucking favor and leave."

he finally gets the hint, quickly ducking out of the kitchen. that left just you and your clearly upset wolf. you wrap your arms around his waist and rest your chin on his chest. his eyes were amber, replacing the dark brown you love so much.

"maki." you call his name, but he keeps his eyes on the door making you cup his cheek. "maki, look at me."

he lets out a deep sigh, closing his eyes before opening them again and meeting yours- his eyes back to his normal color.

"good boy."

you notice his lips twitch making you smile. as soon as he notices that, he lets out a quiet laugh, placing his hand on top of yours. "you're unbelievable."

"yeah, but you love it." you say with a small shrug.

maki looks at you for a second before pulling you flush against him. he doesn't even give you time to think before his lips were on yours, claiming and demanding. you knew that you should probably stop him since you were in a kitchen, especially when he pinned you to the counter, but you couldn't pull away from him.

his fingers dig into your waist, tight at first before he relaxes. you could feel it in his body that the longer he kissed you, the calmer he got. you could feel the anger from him slip away, breath steading as he pulls away from you, resting his head against yours.

"are you okay, maki?" you ask first, smiling when he moves to kiss your forehead.

"i should be asking you that."

"i'm fine. he was clearly all bark and no bite."

maki laughs at your words, letting his lips trail from your temple down the side of your face before kissing along your jaw. "will you ever give up the dog jokes?"

"when i'm dead maybe." you smile when you hear him sigh, though you know he loves the jokes just as much as you did. you open your mouth to say something, but a sigh slides past your lips when you feel his teeth nipping at your neck. he hums before doing it again, loving the way you melted against him.

"what is it, shortie?" your hands land on his chest, fingers tightening around his shirt. you wanted him to keep going, but you knew he wouldn't. you stopped counting the times he's done this, just to get you needy for him to pull away, so you did it first. with one small shove of your hands, he pulled away, looking at you with concern. "you okay?"

"yeah. i'm just stopping things before you stop first." you answer, watching as the realization hits him.

"shortie-"

"i mean it maki." you stop him. "i love you. i love you so much, but you can't keep doing this. you can't keep making me want you before coming up some excuse you know isn't true. i don't even know the truth, and you promised me you would be honest."

maki let out a sigh, letting his thumb run along your cheek. "you're right. it's not fair to you."

"why haven't you claimed me?" you ask, and maki knew you weren't accepting anything except the truth this time. he hesitated for just a moment before answering.

"it's not because i don't want to." he answers. "it's just- i don't trust myself to stop once i start."

"maki-"

"you don't understand." he cuts in. "when my wolf wants something, he wants it completely. i'm scared that i'm going to lose control. baby, you're just so small, and you've never..."

he trails off, but you understand what he meant. and after all this time and excuses, you finally know the answer to why he wouldn't claim you. "you're afraid you're going to hurt me?"

"when it comes to you, i lose control faster than i've ever experienced before." he tells you. "i'll never forgive myself if i hurt you."

you raise your hand, running it through his hair before cupping his cheek- smiling when he leans into your touch. "maki, i trust you.

"shortie-"

you shake your head, already having a feeling for what he was about to say. "don't push me away again. i know what you are, and that changes nothing for me. you would never hurt me."

"i've been trying to be careful with you." he tells you, resolve slipping with every second. "but you're making it really hard."

"maki, i'm not made of glass. i trust you to not hurt me, but you need to trust me to tell you if things get too much."

your words hit him, making him nod his head. "you're right."

"i'm always right." you say making him laugh. he kisses your temple before dropping his forehead against yours.

"i love you."

"i love you too, pup."

you hear him scoff before he kisses you again. you could tell your words had gotten through to him when his hands settle low on your hips before pulling you flush against him. his tongue slips past your lips, hungry and demanding while his hands were desperate to feel every inch of you.

a soft sound slips past your lips when his hand slips into your back pocket, squeezing your ass. the sound had him biting down on your lips before pulling away. his grip tightened on you as his mouth trails down your jaw, slow enough to have you squirming in his hold. when he reaches your neck, he pauses for a moment before pulling away.

you open your eyes that you didn't realize were closed before looking at him, going to question him when you saw the flecks of amber in his eyes. "come on."

"what?" you say confused.

he lets out a laugh, hand slipping from your pocket before intertwining with yours. "if we stay here, i'm going to be temped to do something stupid in this kitchen."

"like what?" you ask, knowing that you were tempting him. he smirks, lips brushing against your ear as he leans down.

"like bending you over this counter and showing aiden that you are claimed." your face flushes at his words. he laughs before kissing your now red cheek. "let's get out of here. my hour is up anyway."

you let him pull you out of the kitchen, stomach flipping with the thoughts running through your head. maki didn't even bother to say goodbye to any of his friends before he left- too occupied in getting you alone.

he leads you to your place on campus since it is closer, but at some point he doesn't think your walking fast enough for him. he bends down before scooping you up in his arms and throwing you over his shoulder with ease.

"maki, put me down! what if someone sees?"

"i don't care." he answers. "all i care about is if i don't get you to myself in the next two minutes, i'm going to lose my mind."

that kept you quiet, hanging onto him as he entered your building. he brought you up to your room, sliding in before taking your shoes off. as soon as his are off, he moves over to the bed.

your back barely touches the mattress before maki is on top of you, lips finding yours. now that you two are alone, he stopped holding back, hands touching and squeezing you, dragging every sweet sound from your mouth.

his kiss left you breathless as his lips trailed down your neck, teeth grazing your skin. "god, you smell so sweet, my mate. you're going to look so good with my mark on you."

"maki-" you groaned, legs wrapping around his waist when his teeth nipped at your neck, leaving red marks in his path.

"what is it?" he teases, voice muffled by your neck. his hand trails down your body, cupping your heat making you squirm in his hold. "i can smell just how soaked you are, and i haven't even started yet."

he pulled away from you just long enough for him to take your shirt off, sliding your bra down your arms before latching his lips to your chest. your back arches into his face when his lips wrap around your nipple, sucking and biting your breast until they were covered in his marks.

you could hear his chest rumble now that you were covered in his marks and scent, but he was no where being done with you. you could see more flecks of amber in his eyes, showing that he was trying to stay in control and gentle. but you didn't want him to be gentle, and he could tell that you didn't with the way you moaned his name, nails digging into his shoulders.

"you're a menace." you couldn't help but laugh at his words making him glance up at you. "you think that's funny?"

"you also thought it was funny." you tell him, feeling exactly what he felt deep in your chest- a sign of being his mate that you have grown to love. you loved being able to feel what he was feeling, and right now it was driving you crazy because you could feel both your lust and his.

he sat up on his knees, hands sliding down your hips before stopping at your shorts. he unbuttoned them before slipping his hand into the front of him, watching you as his fingers ran through your slick folds. "you think this is funny, too?"

"n-no." you shake your head, jerking when his finger brushes over your clit. "maki, please touch me."

"i am. is this not what you want?" maki questions making you whine. "you got to tell me baby."

"i want your mouth."

maki smiles, loving the way your cheeks flush when you say that. maki pulls his hand out of your shorts making you groan, but you stop when he pulls your shorts down your legs, leaving you completely bare beneath him. he leans down, kissing down your stomach trailing to the place you craved most. "my pretty girl. so good and sweet for me."

between him also feeling both of your guys lust, he couldn't take the teasing anymore, not wasting any time before he tasted you. you groan as his tongue drug up your slit, tasting every inch of you before his lips kiss your clit. he circles it, waiting for your impatient moan before he wraps his lips around it, sucking hard enough to have you squirming beneath him.

"i will never get tired of the way you taste, mate." he mumbled against you, vibrations making you jump. "you make me want to lock us in this room and never leave. would you like that, my mate?"

"yes, maki. i would- fuck." you lose your train of thought when his tongue eases inside of you.

he groans loudly, making sure you can hear every sound he makes because he knows it makes you embarrassed to hear how wet you were. he loved it- not only did he love the flush on your cheeks, but to know that he drives you crazy in the same way you do him.

"come on, my mate. i want to hear you scream for me." you cry out when his lips attach to your clit again, rolling it between his lips. his hands held you down, keeping you still as you shifted because he wasn't letting you move until you released on his tongue. "i know your close. i can feel you shaking."

he was right. you were trembling in his hold, trying not to squeeze him with your thighs as your heels dug into your mattress. your hands tangled in your sheets as your orgasm building up fast. "maki- please... please let me-"

"be my good little mate and come on my tongue."

that was all you needed to come to your high. maki watched as your eyes rolled back, sounds continuously falling from your lips making him groan against you. his mouth stayed attached to you, licking up drop of your release, only moving when you called his name.

within a blink of an eye, he had slid back up your body, lips pressing to yours. his tongue slide past your lips, making you groan. "you did so good for me."

he pulls away when he feels you tug at his shirt. he smirks, pulling it off with one hand before he feels you tug him closer to you again. "is that better?"

"yes." you nod, pulling him into a kiss. he smiled into it when he felt your hands exploring him, nails digging into his skin when he bit your lip. "i need you, maki. please."

he kissed the corner of your mouth. "i know, and i'm going to give you everything, my mate. but you're not ready just yet."

you let out a whine as he pulled back, sitting on his knees as he looked down at you. his hands trailed down your thighs before gripping your knees and opening your legs, fully exposing you to him. he held back a groan as he could already see you soaked.

"i'm not going to hurt you." he said, locking eyes with you. "so you need to let me prep you, okay?"

you nod your head, keeping your legs open for him as his hand ghosted up your thigh. you jerk, threatening to close your legs as his hand slid up your slit, gathering your slick onto his fingers.

"i'm going to go slow, but you're going to be good and tell me if you need me to stop, aren't you?"

"i will." you tell him, making him smile.

he did what he said, slowly easing one finger inside of you, pausing when he felt you clench around him. you let out a quiet gasp at the stretch as he fully inserted his finger. "relax for me, mate. there you go."

he let you adjust to it before you felt him move, slowly pumping his finger in and out of you. he was careful, watching your expressions and waiting until you were relaxed enough to handle a second finger. you feel the burn of the stretch for a moment before it disappeared, leaving behind pleasure as he moved his fingers.

"maki..."

he hummed, leaning forward to kiss your forehead. "you're so good for me. taking my fingers so well."

he sped up his fingers, feeling the original discomfort in his chest fade- now feeling nothing but pleasure radiating from you. his fingers curled making you gasp at the feeling, thighs moving to wrap around his waist. "mhm.. fuck maki."

"does that feel good, my mate?" you nod your head at his question, hands gripping his arms when he does it again. he can feel you clench around him, a moan slipping past your lips when his thumb started rubbing smooth circles on your clit. "my sweet girl. i can't wait to feel you around me, but first you're going to come all over my fingers, hmm?"

you barely even realized that you were about to come, but maki did. he curled his fingers one last time before he felt your body shaking as your orgasm ran through you. you clenched tightly around his fingers, a cry of his name falling from your lips before maki silenced you with his lips.

"so fucking perfect. so fucking mine."

you nod, thoughts cloudy from your orgasm. "yours."

"do you still want to keep going?" maki's question made you look up at him before nodding.

"yes, please maki. i want to feel you." you leaned up to catch his lips, feeling as his hand cupped your cheek. "i want you to claim me, mate."

you hear a low growl, eyes more amber than before as he quickly shed the rest of his cloths. you let your eyes trail down his body as he did so, swallowing when you saw his erection- thick and flushed.

you were unsure of how he was going to fit, but your need for him pushed that thought out of your head as he climbed back on top of you. his hands wrap around your thighs before positioning them around his waist. you could feel him nudge your entrance, slowly teasing you which had you whining.

"is this what you wanted?" he asked as he rolled his hips, length length between your folds making you nodded your head. "words."

"yes... maki please."

his lips found yours in a short kiss, waiting until your body relaxed against his before he eased inside of you. he was slow and careful, giving you plenty of time to adjust. despite that, the stretch burned drawing a hiss from your lips.

"i know, my mate. the pain will go away. i promise." his voice was soothing, lips kissing your cheek. "you're doing so good for me. you were fucking made for me."

his compliments helped you relax enough for him to push fully inside of you, hips flush against yours. you let out a moan, feeling full in a way you've never felt before. he stayed still, not moving an inch as you adjusted to him.

"can you... can you move?" you ask when you felt the stinging stretch disappear.

he nodded, lips finding yours as he moved, pulling out of you before slowly easing back into you. you could feel him trembling, fighting to go a speed that was comfortable for you. with every roll of his hips, you found yourself needing more.

"my god. you feel so good." maki rasped. "so fucking tight, my mate."

your hands gripped his shoulders, nails digging into his skin. "go faster."

he looked at you, making sure that you were okay before he sped up. his hips snapped against yours, hard and deep that had you moaning desperately. "if you could only see how perfect you look for me. like a fucking goddess."

"maki... mhmm." you cry out, walls clenching around him. he took that a sign to keep going, holding your hips down as his pace quickens. "fuck-"

"that's it." he grunts, lips grazing your skin. "i want you to let go for me. let me hear you, baby."

his hand leaves your waist, moving down your body to find your clit. you choke out a moan, clenching impossible tightly around him when he starts rubbing fast circles on your clit. he feels your body shaking with need, desperate for release.

"come for me. let me feel you come around me."

your orgasm crashes into you, stealing your breath as you cling to him. he holds you though it, whispering how proud of you he was, kissing every inch of your exposed skin he could reach. once you came down, you could still feel him inside of you, almost throbbing with how hard he still was. "maki?"

"are you okay?" he questions, making you nod.

"i am, but your not." he swallows at your question, and you could feel how tense he was, holding back for you. you knew him well enough that there was something he wanted. "what do you need?"

"baby-"

"maki, i trust you."

something in him snaps, expression darkening as he pulls out of you. you go to question it when he flipped you with ease onto your stomach, positioning you how he wanted you. you glance back over your shoulder to see him eyeing your body with need, hands trailing down your back before resting on your hips.

"claim me, maki. please- fuck." you moan, burying your face into your mattress as he slams into you. you swear you could feel him in your stomach, groaning when he pounded into you.

his soft edge was gone, replaced by his desires he's been holding in. his grip was tight, no doubt leaving bruises on your hips as he pulled you to meet his every thrust. "do you feel how deep i am, mate?" you gasp when his hand pushes into your stomach, feeling the pressure of him. "that's me. only me. there will never be anyone else."

"i- i don't want anyone else." you mumble, face still buried in your mattress.

"my good little mate. letting me claim her like this. everyone will know who you belong to." you whimper as he deepens his thrust, making sure you felt every inch of him. "you'll let me claim you? have my mark on this pretty neck?"

"god- yes... please mark me."

you whine as he pulls out of you, flipping you again to where you were on your back. you could barely realize that he change positions before he was thrusting back into you, this time slow and deep. you could feel him twitch inside of you, a low grown falling from his lips as he presses his head against yours.

your body felt spent, trembling against him. you didn't think you had another orgasm inside of you, but you could feel it sneaking back up with his thrusts. your thighs wrap around him as his lips press into yours before he buries his head in your neck, teeth grazing where he wanted to claim you.

"please, maki." you beg. "please make me yours."

your body clenches around him, eyes screwing shut as you reach your high again, feeling maki's teeth sink into your neck right as you did. you whimper at the sting before it quickly fades away, turning into pleasure.

you felt everything he was feeling even stronger- the bond running between the both of you before settling deep in your chest. maki felt exactly what you did, letting it claim him before he released inside of you with a loud groan.

he stays tightly wrapped around you, kissing your new mark until you feel the bond calm down. he pulls away, eyeing you with a smile. "you okay, shortie?"

"more than okay."

"you did so good." you smile when he kisses your forehead. "i'm so lucky to be your mate."

"i love you."

maki finds your lips, kissing you softly. "i love you, too."

he moves to your side, wasting no time pulling you into his chest, smiling when he feel you curl into his body. he never wanted to leave this room. he just wanted to stay there until he was fully satiated of you, but he knew that would never happen. he would never get tired of you, the way you feel, the way you taste.

he knew you felt the same, clinging onto him when he tried to get something to clean you up. "baby, i'm just going to the bathroom."

"stay."

he's unable to stop the smile that pulls at his lips as he settles back beside you. "i'm not going anywhere."

"good." you grumble, curling back into him again, feeling his unnatural warmth relax you. his hand tangles in your hair, brushing through the strands as his other hand rests on your hip.

"happy now, shortie?"

you bite back a smile as you look up at him, noticing that his eyes lingered on your neck where his mark now sat. "very, pup."

"you're such a brat." he laughs, tightening his arm around you as you lay your head back on his chest.

"maybe, but you know you love it."

“Hey, look what I found.”

You lift your head from where you were lounging in your bunk to see that Mingi, the chief engineer, is brandishing a bottle of champagne.

You start to laugh under your breath. “Is that the bottle you tried to smash against the ship before we took off? Didn’t Hongjoong confiscate it?”

Mingi shook his head, sitting on the edge of your bunk. “Nope. I’ve got my ways. You want to crack it open?”

You slowly shook your head. “Mingi! We’re almost home. Why would you want to break the rules right before?”

Mingi shrugs his large shoulders. “It’s kind of a waste, you know? Maybe this is the last bit of good luck we need.”

You had long since finished packing and it was literally a countdown until you settled back on planet earth. “Fuck it.”

You sit up and grab the champagne bottle. You untwist the wire and pop the cork yourself. You rush to bring the top of the bottle to your mouth before it fizzes out, and you almost do, but you manage to pour some of the champagne onto your tank top. 

“Oh that’s good,” You moan, handing the bottle to Mingi.

Except Mingi isn’t looking at the bottle. He’s looking where the champagne has soaked through your wet tanktop to reveal your black bra. He slowly lifts his eyes to meet yours. Then he takes the champagne and takes a swig himself. 

It’s not long before you and Mingi are drunk and enjoying life. You’re recounting a silly tale of Wooyoung, the ship’s physician, attempting to mime that he was looking for his black cat Wooyonyang, to the Martians, who were taking offence to Wooyoung’s fist imitating a paw as an act of aggression. 

You are gasping with laughter. “And then, he went ‘meow’, which sounds like their swear word that roughly translates to ‘your mother is a fat-tiddied cow’!”

Mingi guffaws with you, hand heavy and warm on your shoulder. “Oh my God, why haven’t I heard of this one?”

You smiled at Mingi. “Wooyoung swore me to secrecy, he almost fucked our mission, Mingi! Only Hongjoong got the full report and even then he’s locked it to the ‘need to know’ archives.”

You shoot another swallow of the champagne back and Mingi decides it would be funny to push the bottom more than you anticipated, causing you to get a faceful of the fizzy liquid. 

“Mingi!” You shriek, wiping champagne from your eyes. “I’m soaked!”

You find yourself pulled up and pushed back against the wall by the room’s door, Mingi’s tongue is rough along your collarbones, licking up the stray champagne. You’re frozen at first. It’s not like you didn’t want it but your drunk-brain didn’t know how to process what was happening. Was this a joke? A prank?

But when Mingi licks his way up your neck and you let out a breathy whine, it’s all over. You are simply consumed by Mingi. His hands on either side of your face, his tongue and lips dominating you in a kiss.

“Mingi--!” Your words are eaten up by his all-consuming kisses. “Wait--!”

Mingi leans back, respectful if not desperate. “You want me to stop?” His eyebrows are furrowed and he looks concerned. You fall into his chocolate orbs so easily.

“No, no, I--” You swallow air desperately. “Just--it's so fast, you know we can't--”

“It's our last night. Surely this doesn't count? It won’t mess with our dynamics, the voyage is finished.”

Your hands move on their own accord, thumb gracing Mingi’s lower lip. “I really want to fuck you,” You find yourself saying, and then gasp at yourself.

Mingi’s slow, satisfied smile that almost made his eyes disappear in happiness made your heart hammer in your chest. “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” You reply sheepishly.

“Then I guess I better prep you,” Mingi admits.

“Prep? Mingi, wha--?” Your brain stumbles to catch up as Mingi moves down your body, untying the sleeves that acted as a belt around your waist to your jumpsuit and began to tug that down your legs. 

You bite down on your lower lip as Mingi hooks his fingers under your panties next, and leave them hanging off one ankle. You let Mingi put one of your legs over his shoulder, eager to see what it feels like to have him there between your legs. 

It’s sloppy, you’re both drunk, but you fall into the feeling of his tongue and lips eating you up. The sensation of Mingi sucking on your inner lips, of his tongue exploring your hole, it’s all an accumulation of pleasure lapping at your nerves. But when Mingi finally finds your clit, after accidentally nudging it with his nose and causing your hips to rise at the touch, he becomes fixated on it. He licks and sucks, making you dive your hand into his hair. His eyes roll up to you, watching your every reaction to each flick of his tongue and graze of his teeth. 

“Mingi, Mingi,” You chant his name, feeling an orgasm beginning to build.

“What are you two doing?”

The cold slash of your captain’s words almost sobers you up--key word, almost. He has opened the sliding door and is standing with his arms crossed in disapproval. 

Mingi’s ringed hands slowly run down your leg and he removes his mouth from your cunt. His face is absolutely covered in your wetness. He wipes it off with the back of his other hand and grins up at Hongjoong. “What’s up, Cap?”

“What's up?” Hongjoong grits out in an almost strangled-gasp. “What's up is that my chief engineer has his tongue buried in my linguist's cunt!”

“Captain--” you yank down your tank top and stretch it to cover said cunt. “I can explain--!”

Mingi stands up and wraps an arm amiable around your waist. You stumble against him, losing your hold on your tank top. “I don't think that's necessary, babe.” Mingi licks his lips gratuitously. He turns and addresses the captain, “Wanna join us?”

“Join you?” Hongjoong’s eyes are burning obsidian chips. “Are you drunk, Song?”

Mingi smirks. “We found the champagne you wouldn't let me break against the ship. You want some?”

“Mingi,” You say the chief engineer's name softly, placing a hand on his chest. 

Mingi looks down at you. “Unless you wouldn't like the captain to participate?”

You feel your face heat up. “That's not the point.”

Mingi lifts his eyebrows. “You like a little non-con with your champagne and oral?”

“Enough!” Hongjoong shouts. “The both of you will get dressed and I will forget this ever--!” 

The captain squeals as Mingi wraps a hand around his wrist and pulls the captain to his side as well. “Come on, Cap. Live a little. Drink with us.”

Hongjoong reaches up with his free hand and fixes his hat. “I will not, that's fraternizing with the crew--! Oh God's.”

You are currently cupping Hongjoong through his uniform, admiring the chubby he was sporting. “Captain, can you sit in your chair on the bridge while I suck you off? I've always wanted to do that, you know.”

“I will not--” Hongjoong bites down on his lower lip, most likely stifling another moan as you squeeze him through the material. “You need to--” 

You watch with interest as Hongjoong’s eyes roll into the back of his head. Mingi squeezes the two of you tightly against his body. “I can think of a few positions we could do in the bridge.”

That's how you ended up between your captain’s legs, using your hands and mouth to suck him off. Mingi had unbuttoned Hongjoong’s jacket, exposing his ample chest. Hongjoong is perched on Mingi’s lap, legs spread behind the Captain’s. Mingi is molesting the captain’s chest. He is the willing victim between your and Mingi’s drunken escapades.

You kept hold of Hongjoong with one hand, spitting on his cock, as if there wasn't enough precum and liquids already covering his fat cock. Mingi cups Hongjoong’s chin and tilts it so he can watch you lick his slit.

“See what you'd be missing, Cap?” Mingi says in a dangerously low tone.

“I--” Hongjoong’s eyes are glassy and distant. He hasn't come yet.

“Is it good, Joongie?” you wonder as you take another ice-cream lick of his cock.

All your captain can manage is a guttural moan as you encompass him into your mouth and take him down your throat, suctioning your lips to his pelvis. 

“Oh fuck,” Mingi groans, watching you gobble all of Hongjoong’s cock. “Alright, that's enough fun for you.”

You pop off Hongjoong and pout. “I wanna make him come!”

“How about we all come, babe,” Mingi offers instead.

You cock your head. “Totem pole?”

Mingi cornilly winks and makes a noise with his teeth. “You get me.”

You stand up and falter, having to brace against the arms of the captain’s chair. “Well I’m ready but is he?”

Mingi turns Hongjoong’s head so his captain has to look at Mingi. “Whatchyu say, Cap? You ready to be stuffed?”

Hongjoong’s long eyelashes blink slowly. His eyes are glued to Mingi’s lips. “I can come?”

Hongjoong was truly the only sober one between the three of you but it seemed getting his dick sucked and his tits played with him had him drunk on lust. 

You cluck your tongue. “Mingi, he can’t agree to anything!” You protest

“Fuck,” Mingi curses. 

“Joongie, you wanna come?”

“Please?” Hongjoong says with an adorable pout. 

You fold your arms under your chest this time. “Well, I guess you’ll have to settle for fucking me, Song.”

Mingi’s lips turn downwards and he shrugs. “I’m not picky.”

Carefully, he extracts his big, warm body from under Hongjoong and settles back the Captain on his rightful throne. You take a moment to frown at Mingi. “You’re not picky?”

“Hey, I was ready to fuck you and only you before Hongjoong interrupted us, remember?”

Mingi takes you in his arms and knocks his forehead against yours adorably. He captures your lips in a searing kiss that has you gasping for air afterwards. 

“You’re one tempting fucker,” You say against his plush lips. 

“Wait until I’ve fucked you,” Mingi smirks. “Might be hard to have anyone else after you’ve had me.”

“Might?”

Mingi chuckles. “Nah, that’s a for sure thing.”

Hongjoong whines, lacking warmth and attention, so you both press against him, you giving him a throaty kiss, and Mingi wrapping his large hand around Hongjoong’s length, slick with your spit still. Mingi, whether on purpose or not, makes Hongjoong come in his hand. The captain lets out a strangled gasp and is soon spurting all over Mingi’s knuckles and fingers.

“Now what?” You cry out.

Mingi simply squeezes Hongjoong’s length again before licking his fingers of Hongjoong’s seed. “I guess we prep him for a totempole.”

You roll your eyes. “Make up your mind, Song.”

Hongjoong begs and pleads as Mingi, with his fingers covered in Hongjoong’s own cum and Mingi’s spit, scissors and fingers Hongjoong open for his cock. Hongjoong’s bracing against his own chair, ass literally pushing back against Mingi’s ministrations. It’s not long before Mingi decides Hongjoong is ready. 

So the engineer takes his place on Hongjoong’s throne, his own jumpsuit down at his feet, legs spread wide so that Hongjoong can sit on his lap with his back to Mingi’s chest. You have to plant your feet so you don't go sit in his lap; the appeal practically pulls at you to do so.

Mingi’s eyes lit up as he reads the restraint in your body. “Patience, you'll get what you deserve soon enough.”

Hongjoong lets out a long, drawn-out moan as Mingi enters him. Hongjoong’s cock comes to attention as Mingi stretches him well and good. Which is perfect for you. You scramble up onto the Captain’s seat, legs thrown over the arms and sit on Hongjoong’s lap, face to face. 

“Does it feel good, Joongie?” You inquire, trying to make sure the captain is taken care of.

“So good,” Hongjoong intones back, a little bit of drool running down his chin.

“Are you ready for me?” You ask, cocking your head curiously. 

You tilt your hips and run the front of your slit against Hongjoong’s cock. The captain shivers at the feeling but nods, swallowing loudly.

“I'm gonna treat your fat, dumb cock so well, Joongie,” You purr as you spear yourself down on him. 

Hongjoong’s eyebrows furrow and he pouts. “It's too much.”

“Don't you wanna get fucked by both of us, Joongie?” You sigh once you receive him full tilt inside of him. “My wet heat wrapped around you while Mingi hits that sweet spot inside of you?”

Hongjoong’s head lists side to side as he whines some more. “Too much. Too much. I feel--”

Mingi makes a condescending noise. “Too much? You're about to get the best fuck of your life and it's too much?”

“Please.” Hongjoong licks his lips. “Wanna be dumb again.”

You and Mingi share a conspiratory grin. You could deliver on that.

So as you grinded yourself against Hongjoong, swaying your body to your own rhythm. Meanwhile, Mingi kept both of Hongjoong’s hip in a death grip, fucking up into the captain’s loosened hole. Every so often the air would be peppered with Mingi’s deep grunts and Hongjoong’s sensual whines, and your satisfied noises, creating an orchestra that pleased the senses. 

“Fuck, Joongie,” You whine as you peck his pouty lips. “You’re doing so good for us. Your fat cock is treating me so well, even though you wouldn’t even know what to do with it, would you?”

The mixture of degradation and praise makes Hongjoong whine, all the while pushing into your lips for the kisses. “Am I good?”

“Good?” Mingi guffaws behind him. “You’re fucking amazing.”

A pleased smile pulls his pink, puffy lips and that only makes you dive in for a deeper kiss, needing to feel his satisfaction. “You gonna cum for us again, Joongie? Gonna fill me up with your love juice? Hmmm? Or did Mingi milk it all out of you already?”

Hongjoong shakes his head in your kiss, breaking it to breathe desperately against your lips. “I have more to give. I can give you it all.”

“Good,” Mingi grunts. “Because I’m going to be filling you up too.”

Hongjoong lets out stuttered cries as Mingi fucks him well and good, each thrust making the captain cry out. The crescendo announces Mingi’s climax, his hips stilling as he comes, a loud moan leaving the engineer’s plush lips. He’s still working himself in and out of Hongjoong before you finish grinding yourself against the captain and find your own release as well. Between being filled up and squeezed by your walls, Hongjoong comes with a desperate groan, almost sounding like he’s caught between pleasure and pain. It sounds wonderful to your ears. 

You continue to make out with Hongjoong, unable to deny yourself those beautiful lips. The three of you are too tired and satiated for anything more than exchanging lips. But Mingi, not to be forgotten, grips Hongjoong’s chin and turns his head for a throaty kiss himself. You watch on with half-lidded eyes, feeling your insides stir at the vision.

Hongjoong whines into Mingi’s mouth, feeling you clench down on his soft and sensitive cock “Please. I can’t take anymore.”

Mingi chuckles lowly. “You know, Cap, the more you whine, the more we want to overstimulate you and make you dumb again. You’re really not helping your case.”

Hongjoong’s eyes roll around, like he’s trying to come to his senses. “I…We need… a shower. And a clean up. And--”

“Mmm, let’s cuddle in your big captain’s bed instead,” You say drunkenly, nuzzling his sweet, sweaty neck. “Doesn’t that sound better?”

The boys had done this before. Held onto a joke and not let it go. Usually it was fine, a few days and they’d find something else to joke about. Not this time.

It had started off as an accident. You were having a relaxing movie night with your boyfriend, Seungmin. You stole some of his drink, then some of his snacks, then asked for one of his hoodies. The last one was his final straw, laughing as he tackled you to the sofa, pinning your arms down above your head with one strong hand, his hips sitting flush with yours.

“I can’t have anything to myself anymore huh?” you felt his warm breath graze over your ear before he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your lips, distracting you both from the movie and the reason he had you in this position.

“But you love doing things for me Minnie,” you smiled into his lips, watching his eyes glint with humour as he leans back.

“Is that right?” he replies quickly, a smirk starting to pull at the corner of his lips.

Taking his arms loosening as your sign you pull yourself up from under him, using his surprise to push him into your positioning, your hands holding his above his head, your hips sitting flush over his. You glance down at him, seeing a full blown smirk appear on his face at your positioning, knowing this would never happen usually.

“Now what?” he asks amusedly, relaxing into your hold, daring you to try and take control properly.

Just as you were trying to conjure up an answer, you hear shoes thud in the hallway and chuckles from the man standing in the doorway.

“I see,” Changbin smirks at the two of you, moving down the hall to Felix’s room.

“You see what?” you hear a second voice call from the front door, making you both groan and start to get up after freezing with Changbin.

“I just walked in on Y/N domming our Minnie,” Changbin replied happily, smirking at Hyunjin as he walked to the doorway.

He nodded along as he took in the scene in front of him, “That’s how I thought it went down, but at least now there’s proof in the world!” he joked, making his way to Felix’s room with Changbin in tow, calling out behind him, “You can stop pretending now Min!”

~~

The rumour spread around the other members quickly, most unable to let it go. The boys were over at Felix and Seungmin’s house for a movie night, you were grabbing snacks in the kitchen when you heard laughter in the living area.

“It all makes so much sense now!” Jisung laughed, handing the phone to Jeongin. “Remember when we were joking about in that interview and pinned his legs together? Totally makes sense.”

“That’s- No that’s not the same thing,” Seungmin stuttered in response, “And what they walked in on, thats- if you had walked in 30 seconds- thats not how it usually-”

He gets cut off promptly by Minho, “Y/N?” and he waits for you to pop your head through the doorway, knowing you had been listening, he smirks at you and then at your boyfriend, “Is it just that easy to get Minnie to submit in the bedroom?”

The howls of his members drowned out any attempts Seungmin made to refute his question, a slightly pleading look on his face for your answer to put this whole thing to bed as they quietened down to listen for your reply.

A light blush settled over your cheeks as you tried hard to bite back the smile as you made eye contact with your long term boyfriend, “He’s pretty easy to handle, even in the bedroom.” you answered, knowing you were going to pay for that later, it spurred on a new wave of laughter. 

~

“What was that baby?” Seungmin rasped in your ear, “I can’t hear you.”

Too fucked out to answer, all you could do was whimper in response as you feel him target your sweet spot over and over again.

“I think I remember you saying something about ‘being able to handle me, even in the bedroom’?” he says with a smirk on his face, grabbing your hair into a makeshift pony tail and pulling your back flush against his chest.

One hand slides around your neck, pressing the sides firmly as the other makes its way to rub harsh circles on your clit. His hips were unrelenting as you felt his breath hit your ear, “Are you sure you can handle me baby?”

Unable to conjure up an answer, you let the tears run down your face at the feeling of his hips slamming non-stop into your raw ass.

~~

The living room incident spurred the boys on to joke more about your sex life more frequently. And even normal relationship things were a spark for them to tease him.

It had started the next day with you asking him to fill up your water bottle for you as you were preparing food for the group of ravenous men in your living room. Then asking him to take the trash out, and finally you asking if he would set the table. Before yesterday, none of this would have been a big deal, however now with the information they think they have, they began to laugh, joking about how much he clearly loves to take orders from you, asking him to do things for them in which they receive a quick ‘fuck off’ in reply.

All it takes is a small laugh from you when Jeongin says, “Guess it only works when it’s coming from the woman in charge, huh?”

As the boys are distracted by laughing, Seungmin crowds you against the counter where you’re cutting vegetables, one strong hand on your hip, the other coming down to rest on your still burning ass, “Careful pup, do you want a repeat of last night?”

~~

The second time you got consequences for comments you made, you were tagging along to a photoshoot with them. You loved to watch your boyfriend do his thing looking finer than ever.

As the boys were being rounded up into the green room after everything wrapped up, they began making plans for what was happening next, talks of a video game night at Chan and Jeongin’s dorm.

“Min, you joining?” Chan asked as he was packing up his bag.

But before he could answer, Jisung’s smug tone interrupted, “He will probably have to ask the boss first.” Drawing laughs from the boys around him.

Trying to play into it now, Seungmin chuckles alongside them, “Nah, I have no plans.” He glances at you to confirm, seeing a confused look on your face.

“Is us going on a date nothing to you now?” you replied, faking a hurt tone to your voice, “We had this planned for a week Seungmin, why do you think I came with you today?” You turned to grab your bag from the table, quickly hiding your smirk with a disappointed look as you turned back to him.

Panic. That’s all you see on your boyfriend’s face as he tries to reach out for you, only for you to flinch away from him. “Wait, no. Of course I haven’t forgotten. We-I, we’re going, don’t worry.” He stumbled, trying to fix his mistake.

You cocked your head to the side, hand on your hip, “And where are we going? Or have you forgotten that too?”

“I-uh, no! We’re going to…uh…” he mumbled, trying his best to scramble together any memory of these plans.

His thoughts were interrupted by a giggle from Changbin, an empathetic look from Felix, and a mumbled comment of ‘oh dude, really?’ from Chan.

You couldn’t let your boyfriend keep stumbling this badly, feeling a little bit of guilt biting at you when you see him tense as you let out a giggle. “I’m joking my love, go have fun with the boys.” you leaned in and pressed a kiss to your very still boyfriend, hoping to soften the blow slightly, but not before patting his head gently and walking down the hall to the bathroom, laughs and comments of ‘wow you’re so whipped’ erupting from behind you.

As the bathroom door begins to close behind you, a strong hand stops it in place, pushing open to reveal your very pissed off boyfriend. He closes it quickly behind him, clicking the lock into place as he pushes your back against it.

One hand comes to wrap around your neck, your breath hitching at the pressure as one of his knees knocks your apart to press against your cunt under your dress.

“You’re cute. So many jokes recently,” he breathes against your ear as he presses a kiss to your pulse point. But before you could whip up any kind of response he continues, “But there’s something you can do so much better with your mouth than lying.”

His hand moves from your neck to the top of your shoulder, pushing you down so that you’re kneeling before him. Making quick work of his pants and underwear he lets out a groan as he strokes himself a few times.

“People will hear,” you whine slightly, not thinking that he would correct you here, hoping you had time at home to prepare before he had his way with you.

“So?” he answers you, pressing his hand into the hair at the back of your head to get a good grip before tapping his leaky tip to your cheek. “Open up angel.”

He pressed his hard cock into your mouth when you opened up, four short shallow thrusts to allow you to get used to his size before he was pressing his hips into your face, his hand firm at the back of your head. You choked on his cock initially, no matter how many times you took him in your mouth you could not get used to his size.

He fucked into your mouth deep, using his hand and the door as leverage, reveling in your choked cries, tears running down your face at continuous hitting at the back of your throat.

He pulls out of your mouth, his finger tipping your head back so he could look down at your ruined makeup, your eyes blown, and your spit and his precome dripping down your chin. 

“You look so pretty on your knees for me,” his thumb rubbed over your wet bottom lip, dipping into your mouth when you parted your lips automatically for him. “But that bratty little mouth of yours,” he continues, replacing his thumb with his cock again, “So good for me when it tries.”

His thrusts are relentless now, hitting the back of your throat, chasing his high as he feels you constrict around him. “Fuck baby, so good.” he moans out, his eyes unable to leave your face as he ruins you.

Pushing your head into him with one strong thrust you feel him painting the back of your throat with his come, unable to keep the compliments to himself about how good you were.

Knowing that he enjoys seeing how he’s claimed you, you keep your lips parted when he pulls out, your eyes shyly meeting his. He smiles down at you, caressing your cheek, wiping away a final stray tear before he taps under your chin. “Swallow. All of it.”

He did go to Chan and Jeongin’s dorm for game night that evening. But not before he cleaned your makeup from your face, kissing you gently, and ordering you a car to take you home.

You definitely did not learn your lesson.

~~

All the boys were at Seungmin and Felix’s apartment for a movie night. Everyone had found their normal spots, sprawled out on the couches as they waited for you to bring in the snacks. Well you thought they were waiting. That was until you hear the movie beginning to blast through the speakers.

You move to stand in the doorway, arms already full of snacks, fake coughing to grab their attention. You see Seungmin with a slight rising panic on his face as he takes in your figure in the doorway, the TV remote in his hand.

You raise an eyebrow at him, getting the message across that it wasn’t cool that he started without you. The boys around him were looking back and forth between you both as your boyfriend tries to apologise, “I’m so sorry. I forgot you weren’t back-I mean, no. I just…” he digs a deeper hole for himself as he lets himself trail off.

You let out an unamused laugh, “You forgot that I wasn’t back?” you repeated back to him, “Back from getting the snacks for your friends?” you said back, to anyone who wasn’t Seungmin, you sounded dead serious. To your boyfriend, he could hear the bratty lilt to your voice.

He let out a breath as he rose from his usual place on the couch, coming to help you with the food, ignoring the whispered cackles and comments from his friends. “Wow all she needed was a look.”, “He is so not in charge.’, “I know he’s ‘Mr. likes to be manhandled’ but I thought it was just a joke.’

Sitting back on the corner of the couch, your boyfriend on one side of you, Changbin on the other. You’re cuddled up into him, your usual cosy blanket covering the both of you.

You were about twenty minutes into the movie when you feel his hand rest on your thigh. It inched slowly up until it rests on the inside of it, pinching the plush skin there only a breath away from your aching cunt. You jumped at the feeling, shooting another annoyed glance at your boyfriend, only to find him still pretending to watch the TV. 

He presses his palm flat over where your clit is, pushing down firmly as he slowly grinds it down on you, sending you his own look when you have to cover up a moan with a cough.

He slides his other arm around you, pulling your upper body closer to him. Using the movement as a disguise for pushing his hand under your pyjama pants. He runs his middle finger along your clothed folds, feeling how wet you were for him already, even through your panties.

He taps his finger over your clit, chuckling lightly into your ear when he feels you flinch against him. “Careful angel, don’t want to give us away.”

He pushes your panties to the side before he presses his finger into your tight heat in one fell swoop, letting out a ragged breath at the sudden intrusion and the heel of his palm resting on your clit again.

You waved off a concerned look from Changbin beside you, whispering out an excuse about being tired, graciously hoping that it was enough of an excuse as your boyfriend ground his finger deeper inside you.

He gave you one last suspicious glance before going back to concentrating on the screen in front of you. As you turned back to your boyfriend you felt his hand begin to move more, his finger probing at your sweet spot, his hand grinding against your aroused clit.

Never had you thought that having Seungmin’s hands on you around the others would have you coming to your high so quickly. Feeling you clenching around him, he pushes a second finger in alongside his existing one, making you fist the soft blanket in your hand, your knuckles going pale as you try to fight off your impending orgasm.

Sending a harsh rub to your clit with his palm, he could feel you teetering on the edge of bliss. And just as you could feel yourself about to tip over, he pulls his hand away from you.

Your head snaps quickly to look at his smug face, even more proud with the whimper that ripped from your mouth before you could cover it with a fake cough or yawn. You hid your face into his chest as he smiled to his friends that turned around to glance at you at the distressed sound. 

Leaning down to your ear as they turn back to the movie he whispers, “You have to keep quiet baby, can’t have you ruining this nice illusion you’ve built for yourself, can we?” As his hand pushes your panties to the side again.

~~

You had just wrapped up at the latest album release party at the company, making your way as a group to the vans.

“Are you going to the afterparty?” Hyunjin asks your boyfriend, throwing an arm around him. Seungmin turns his head to ask if you felt up for going, but before he could get a word out he was interrupted with a laugh and a comment or two, “You need to ask permission now?”, “OMG he has a curfew!”

The teasing only continued, the boys jokingly trying to beg you to let him go, as your boyfriend slid his arm around you. If only they knew he was asking because of the cute little bejeweled plug he had pushed into you before you left the house, knowing how needy it can make you.

“We can go, can’t we baby?” he asks sweetly, patting over your ass in a way that makes you clench around the plug inside you, stuttering out an agreement that only gets noticed by your smirking boyfriend.

~

You left the afterparty a little earlier than the others, Seungmin ordering his usual car with the same driver for the thirty minute car ride home. 

It wasn’t long before you were pulled onto his lap, harsh kisses being pressed into your skin, his hands on your waist pushing you down on his hard cock through his slacks.

You let out a moan at the feeling of how hard he was already before pulling back, “The driver, Min, he might-” but you’re interrupted by him pinching your chin between his fingers and turning your head towards the front. You see the partition begin to go up, courtesy of his usual driver, his fingers doing a fake salute when he makes eye contact with your boyfriend in the mirror.

Seungmin pulls the short skirt of your dress around your hips, groaning as he sees your bare cunt sitting on top of his clothed cock, remembering him confiscating your panties from your outfit before you both left for the event.

Quickly he unbuckled his belt, pushing down his pants and underwear, his leaking cock was flushed and ready for you. He pulled you up by the hips, lined his cock up with your slick entrance before sinking you down on him.

At the slow pace you feel everything. How good he stretches you out, everytime the plug pushes against him through your thin wall, the relief when your clit sits snug against his lower stomach in this position.

“Fuck baby,” he groans out, his hands resting on your waist, “Are you always dripping and ready for me at the drop of a hat?” 

You can only whine in response as his hands are pressing you down, grinding you in a circle on him, feeling your throbbing clit rub deliciously against him. “You always feel so tight when you have this little jewel in your other hole,” he whispers against your ear, his hips bucking up as he taps over the plug in your ass to feel you clench tighter around him.

“So good for me angel, keeping this in all evening,” he praises, using his hands to guide you into a small bounce on his cock, “You need to work on your subtlety though,” he pulls his face back to look at the blissed out look on your own, “Everytime you sat down you bit your lip, and you had those pretty little ‘fuck me’ eyes everytime you even glanced in my direction,” he cooed, rubbing his thumb gently beside your watery eye.

You leaned into his touch as you continued to bounce on him, lost in the feeling of him stretching you out. “Need to be more careful though. After the movie night, I don’t think Changbin was convinced.” he growled out as you clenched around him, “He was looking at you suspiciously every time you looked like you could come just from sitting down.”

He let out a groan when you clamped down on him, your hips bouncing with renewed vigour. Your boyfriend couldn’t help but notice your increased movements, his hand coming down harshly on your ass, pulling your cheeks apart and smiling at the squeak you let out as the plug shifted deeper into you.

“You like that thought, huh? Coming in front of my members?” you couldn’t control the volume of your whimpers anymore, your head falling against his shoulder. “Maybe I should fuck this little hole in front of them? Show them what a good girl you are for me?” he whispered into your ear, his fingers pressing the plug deeper into you. Pulling a whine from your lips as you nodded against his shoulder, too fucked out to care about what you were agreeing to.

“I’m glad you’re learning, baby.”

~~

The final consequence came when everyone had come over for a game night. 

Before you could even get started they were joking about how much Seungmin loves it when Changbin manhandles him. And before long they were jesting about how you could give Changbin a run for his money with how well you control him.

“I’m sure you could manhandle him the way I do and he’d still run after you,” Changbin chuckled.

You let a laugh leave your lips, not thinking twice before letting the comment leave your lips, “You should have seen us last night.”

They begin to howl with laughter, just managing to stutter out some jabs in between their roars. “OMG what position did you have him in?!”, “So good for your mommy, Min?”

Seungmin begins to open his mouth to try and make their laughter die down but he was swiftly interrupted by Jisung, “What? Are you finally going to stand up to her?” he says with a laugh.

You let out a slightly strained laugh alongside them, “He knows better. Right Minnie?” Your boyfriend’s eyes were darkening at your words but he nods almost inconceivably. 

You knew you were in for it before the words even came out of your mouth.

“Good boy.”

The final nail in your coffin.

Seungmin’s eyes landed on yours, a mixture of anger that you had never seen before, swirled with a dark lust. He grabs your arm gently, but you can tell it has an edge to it, and pulls your body into him. “We’re actually going to call it a night guys.” His grip on your wrist not letting go.

His words were met with a wave of protests, “But we were going to have a fun game night!”, “We’re only joking Min, you know that right?”

But Felix, knowing what the two of you are really like from endless nights of having to use his noise cancelling headphones and doors that don’t always lock, interrupts them all. “We should go to someone else's apartment. The WIFI has been really weird here anyway.” He begins to shepherd the still rowdy group out of the front door, sending you both a look as he shuts it behind him.

Seungmin lets go of your wrist and turns sharply, heading towards his bedroom, leaving the door ajar. You take a deep breath, preparing yourself for the inevitable unknown. You shakily step towards his room, softly closing it behind you and turning to face where your boyfriend is standing.

He has his back to you, his shoulders looking broad in his tight t-shirt, his long legs filling out his sweatpants that he knows you love.

“You’re so cute when you’re being a brat,” he says clearly, not turning to look at you.

You take a timid step further into the room, ending in the middle of the rug at the end of the bed. Seungmin holds his hand up, still not giving you a glance, stopping you in your place.

His long fingers flick downwards, a simple command leaving his plush lips, “Kneel.”

Without hesitation your knees hit the plush floor beneath you, your back straight and your hands clasped together on your lap. Just like he had taught you. 

You looked up at his looming figure as he finally turned towards you, a smirk quirking up on the edge of his lips as he sees you finally do what you were told.

He moved closer to stand in front of you, the smell of his cologne swirling in your senses now. His finger comes down to tilt your chin up more, meeting your nervous eyes better with his serious ones. “Do you think what you said earlier was a good idea baby?”

You take a breath and close your eyes briefly before shaking your head, his hand under your chin grips you tighter. “Words, pup.”

You gulped before opening your mouth, “No.” you whispered out, the only volume you felt like you could push out of your mouth.

“No, what?” he implored, tilting his head to the side.

Your eyes drop to the floor momentarily in shame for forgetting one of your rules for these scenes, “No sir.”

“Do you enjoy humiliating me in front of my friends?” he asks, looking you deep in the eyes.

You hesitate before you answer, “No, sir.” 

He lets out a chuckle at your uncertain answer, “There’s no use lying now, you’ll only make it worse for yourself.”

You let out a small whine at his words, imagining all the things he’s going to do to you, all the things he could do to you. “Sometimes sir, it’s fun to rile you up.” You finally answer honestly, unable to meet his eyes anymore.

He doesn’t dignify your truthful words with a response, his hand moving from your chin to stroke your cheek, one last genuine smile on his lips as you lean into his gentle touch.

Letting go, he takes a small step backwards to give you room. “Strip, then kneel again.”

You waste no time, stripping completely, folding your clothes into a small pile beside you before kneeling in front of Seungmin again, feeling humiliated at how bare you were compared to him.

You sit the way you had before, your hands neatly folded onto your lap, your back straight, taking a small glance at the growing tent in his sweats before attempting to make eye contact with him.

“What are you doing?” he asked, moving closer to you.

“I’m waiting on instructions,” you reply, quickly throwing a ‘sir’ on the end of your sentence when you see his eyebrow quirk up at you.

“I’m not giving you instructions. My cock is in front of you, you know what to do.” he answers, “Or have you forgotten everything that I taught you.”

You quickly shift into action, your hands coming up to pull his sweats and boxers down in one go. Letting them fall to his ankles, you take a deep breath at the sight of his hard cock in front of you. Your hands automatically came up to grasp it, your mouth watering at the thought of him.

After a few pumps, you shuffled forward on your knees to bring your lips closer to his tip, pressing a gentle kiss there before swirling your tongue around it. He let out a shaky but controlled breath at finally feeling your mouth on him again. At the unspoken praise, you begin to take more of him into your mouth, your skilled tongue running along the veins on the underside, stroking the rest of his length with your hand.

You continued this for a minute or two, warming yourself up, preparing yourself for what you know will be the only action you get to do of your own choice tonight. You knew how much Seungmin loved it when you took him down your throat of your own volition, you yourself loving it just as much at knowing how riled up it can make him.

You began to take him further into your mouth, your hands resting on either thigh to keep your balance. You tried your best to breathe around your gag reflex that was trying to get rid of the too-big intrusion. 

You pull yourself back just enough to breathe properly before pushing yourself back onto him, finding it much harder to let yourself relax around him than having him push your head down. But this is what you knew you both enjoyed, you choosing to choke yourself on his cock.

He could see you struggling slightly, taking a lot more breaks than he knows you can take. The next time you take him in, your nose touching his lower stomach, he strokes his hand over the back of your head. Not holding or pushing, just encouraging.

Looking up at him, you can feel the tears beginning to breach your lash line, your throat tightening around him as you choke. “Choose between my cock and oxygen, baby. Really make it up to me.”

You shut your eyes to try and concentrate, taking a breath through your nose as you push yourself further onto him, your nails digging into his thighs. “Good girl.”

As you feel yourself becoming slightly light headed, his hand grabs the hair at the back of your head and pulls you off his cock. He admires the small tears running down your cheeks and the mix of saliva and precome dripping from your mouth before he crouches down to your level.

You feel his hot breath in your ear as he holds your head tight beside his. “If you ever pull a stunt like that again, I won’t wait until we get to our bedroom.” He pulls you up off the floor as he hears you let out a gasp.

He pushes you onto the bed as you let out a raw moan as you think through his words. He smirks as he kicks off the rest of his clothes, settling himself between your hips, his hard cock pressing along your dripping cunt.

“You want that angel? The boys to see what a good little sub you are for me?” He all but spits the last word at you, his message just about getting through to you.

One of his hands holds your wrists above your head, the other lining the head of his cock up to your entrance. He leans down and presses a messy kiss to your lips before whispering.

but there’s one complication. fuma.

the first time you met him, it was casual — nicholas introducing you with that grin of his, “she’s our friend, she’s one of us, so be nice.” you laughed it off, bowing politely, thinking nothing of it. but then fuma looked up at you, and there was something in the way his eyes softened, the way his smile curved, that lodged itself somewhere deep in your chest.

and now, every time you’re over, it’s the same cycle. you’ll be sprawled on the couch next to euijoo, pretending to care about whatever show he’s got on, but your gaze always drifts. you catch yourself staring — fuma’s hair falling into his face while he laughs at something nicholas says, his hands moving gracefully when he gestures, the little crinkle at the corner of his eyes when he smiles.

you think you’re subtle, but your heart doesn’t seem to agree. it pounds every time his shoulder brushes yours in the kitchen, every time he glances your way in the middle of a conversation.

you never talk much when he’s around. it’s not that you don’t want to — it’s that the words dry up in your throat, your shyness wrapping tight around you like a net. you’ll answer if he asks you something, always polite, but never daring to add more. and then you scold yourself later, lying awake in bed, thinking about all the things you could’ve said.

nicholas teases you sometimes. you’ll catch him giving you that knowing look when your eyes inevitably follow fuma across the room. you’ll hiss at him under your breath, “shut up,” cheeks blazing, but he just laughs, nudging you like an annoying older brother. euijoo isn’t much better, though he’s more subtle about it — the sly smile, the raised eyebrow when fuma happens to walk in and you immediately stiffen.

and fuma? god, you’re convinced he doesn’t notice. how could he? he’s older, more confident, carrying himself with that calm presence that makes everyone around him feel at ease. he’s always kind to you — offering you snacks when he’s cooking, making sure you have a blanket when the dorm gets cold — but you tell yourself that’s just who he is: kind, thoughtful, a natural caretaker, just like he acts with the rest of the group.

still, sometimes you wonder.

like the night you were all playing cards on the floor. you lost spectacularly, and nicholas was making a whole show of it, laughing so hard he nearly fell over. you were hiding your face in your hands, mortified, when fuma’s voice came, low and warm: “don’t tease her too much.” you peeked through your fingers to find him smiling at you, gentle, like he was on your side.

your stomach flipped so violently you thought you might actually throw up.

or the time you were scrolling through your phone on the couch and realized he was sitting across from you, watching something on his laptop. you kept stealing glances, thinking you were safe, when suddenly his eyes flicked up and locked on yours. you froze, deer-in-headlights, and he just… smiled. you looked away so fast your neck hurt, heart hammering against your ribs.

you tell yourself you’re just imagining it. that he probably smiles at everyone that way. but still, it lingers. the possibility that maybe, just maybe, he sees you too.

the crush eats at you in quiet moments. brushing your teeth, you’ll think about what it would feel like if he leaned down to kiss you. cooking ramen with euijoo, you’ll picture fuma wandering in, sliding his arms around your waist, murmuring something low in your ear. you know it’s hopeless, but the daydreams won’t stop.

and the worst part? the longing has started to bleed into everything. when he’s not around, you find yourself scrolling through clips of him, searching his face in group photos, listening too closely when nicholas casually mentions him. when you’re with him, you can barely breathe, trapped between wanting to disappear and wanting to stay forever.

you don’t say a word, it’s safer this way — to keep the crush tucked away in your chest. you’d rather suffer in silence than risk ruining the easy comfort you have with nicholas, euijoo, and the whole group.

still, every time fuma laughs, every time his eyes meet yours across the room, it feels less like a secret and more like a fire that won’t stop burning.

and deep down, a part of you wonders how much longer you’ll be able to keep it hidden.

it happens on one of those nights where the dorm feels too full — laughter spilling from every corner, euijoo and nicholas arguing over some game, music humming in the background. you’re curled up on the arm of the couch, pretending to scroll through your phone, but really you’re doing what you always do: sneaking glances at fuma.

he’s sitting on the floor, legs crossed, shoulders broad even in the loose hoodie he’s wearing. his hair falls forward as he focuses on whatever’s happening in front of him, but he pushes it back with those strong, veined hands, and your chest squeezes tight.

you think you’re being subtle. you always think you are.

but this time, when you look up, his eyes are already on you.

you freeze. caught.

he doesn’t look away. his gaze lingers, soft but steady, like he’s been waiting for you to finally notice. the noise of the room dulls in your ears, every sound swallowed by the sharp, fast pounding of your heart.

you tear your eyes back to your phone, cheeks blazing, hoping maybe he’ll just forget it happened. but then you hear it — your name, spoken in his voice. low. uncertain.

you glance up again, and he’s shifting closer, his large frame moving carefully, like he doesn’t want to startle you. he settles beside the couch, tilting his head up to catch your gaze, his hands resting awkwardly on his knees.

“can i… ask you something?” his words are hesitant, but his eyes are steady, searching yours.

you swallow hard. “y-yeah?”

he looks down for a moment, biting the inside of his cheek like he’s working up the courage. when he speaks again, his voice is softer, almost shy. “why do you… always look at me like that?”

your breath catches.

he must see the panic in your face, because he immediately waves his hands, stumbling over his own words. “ah, sorry, that sounded—i didn’t mean it in a bad way. i just… i notice. sometimes. a lot, actually.”

his ears are red. bright red, glowing against his pale skin. for someone built like him — tall, broad-shouldered, strong — he suddenly looks impossibly gentle, like he’s terrified of pushing you away.

you want to deny it. to laugh it off, to tell him he’s imagining things. but the way he’s looking at you — cautious, hopeful, like he already knows the truth — makes the words stick in your throat.

“i…” you start, your voice barely above a whisper. “i guess… i can’t help it.”

his eyes widen. for a moment, he just stares, lips parted, like the words short-circuited his brain. then, slowly, his expression shifts. his shoulders relax, his mouth curves, and the smallest, shyest smile spreads across his face.

“you… like me?” he asks, voice breaking a little on the last word.

you bury your face in your hands, mortified, but he laughs — soft, breathless, not mocking at all. “ah, don’t hide. please.” he gently tugs at your wrist, coaxing your hands away. “i just… i didn’t think… you’d ever feel that way about me.”

your heart stutters. “why not?”

his smile turns sheepish, his gaze dropping to his lap. “because you’re… you. and i’m… me. i’m not really good at this stuff.” he rubs the back of his neck, clearly flustered, but his words are honest. “i thought if i tried to talk to you more, i’d just mess it up.”

you blink at him, stunned. all this time you thought you were the only one tripping over your feelings.

“fuma…” you say softly, leaning down just a little, “you couldn’t mess it up.”

his head snaps up, eyes wide and shining, and for a moment he just stares, like he’s trying to commit the sight of you to memory. then, very carefully, he lifts one of those big hands and rests it near yours on the couch cushion. not touching, not yet — just close, an unspoken question.

you slide your fingers over his before you can second-guess yourself.

he exhales shakily, shoulders slumping in relief, his hand curling gently around yours.

the noise of nicholas and euijoo carries on in the background, oblivious, but in this little corner of the room, it feels like it’s only the two of you. fuma’s thumb brushes over your knuckles, tentative but tender, and he looks at you with that shy, boyish smile that makes your stomach flip all over again.

“so… you’ll keep looking at me,” he murmurs, voice almost teasing now, though still soft. “but maybe, this time, i can look back?”

your laugh is quiet, nervous, full of warmth. “yeah. i’d like that.”

and when his grip tightens just slightly, anchoring you there beside him, you realize you’re not the only one who’s been quietly longing all this time.

Jeong Yunho lurks around in the broomlot outside your place of work. Toil and Trouble, the shop you co-own with your best friend, that specializes in building witch homes. 

“ ‘So you don’t have to toil in the trouble’, my ass,” Yunho mutters under his breath.

He is just unhappy you have such a perfect witch slogan. You make a lot of money, much to his chagrin. You two had been classmates' and arch nemesis’ all through high school and throughout college, looking to make the Coven’s List over each other. Yunho had won that round but you’re the one that had ended up with an amazing best friend and an even better business idea.

You aren’t even in the same spell circle. You specialize in commanding inanimate objects, of course, and Yunho worked more on curses and hexes. Sure, he made good money with people set on revenge, but your job just did better. Someone always needed a new house. 

Luckily for Yunho, he knew the perfect way to get even with you. He holds a bright pink dildo in his hand, and leans to murmur to it.

A curse on you, from this moment further

An addiction to this, your cunt shall nurture

Upon touch of your skin to this colorful toy

My image you’ll see, you’ll crave and enjoy

Paired with a pocket pussy, I'll control it all

Feel as you feel, crumble and fall

“Let's see how you deal with this,” Yunho cackles in malicious glee.

He tosses the toy to the ground and leaves with a firm push of his feet while on his broom.

“What is this world coming to?!” You demand, sending another look of disbelief over your shoulder.

“You're late,” Yeosang, your best friend and co-owner of your shop, intones.

“Late is better than never, don’t you think?” You smile at Yeosang and move towards your desk opposite of him. 

Yeosang laughs, pretending you were funny, and then goes completely stoic. “It’s been out there since I got here at 6am.”

You wrinkle your nose at the admission. “Ew, why have you been here since 6am?”

“Because I needed to finish the mockups for our meetings today,” Yeosang replies, shuffling some papers. “Now, if you would like to look them--” 

He almost jumps out of his seat in shock as you screech loudly abruptly. 

“Oh my god, the Stephen’s will be here any minute now. They have young children. I’ve got to get that dildo out of there!”

You drop your bags and begin to teeter on your heels towards the entrance again. Yeosang starts to grumble under his breath. “I should have never exchanged my cookies for grapes in grade school.”

You stride towards where the dildo is unfortunately lying on its side. You remove the scarf wrapped around you and use it to cover your hand while you pick up the discarded toy.

You hold it outwards and practically run towards your shop, head moving back and forth, desperate for no one to see you. You manage to make it back with no witnesses.

“Oh Morgan's tits, couldn't you have thrown it out in a dumpster or something? It's probably cursed!” Yeosang complains. 

You move towards the garbage under your desk to throw it out.

“Not out here!” Yeosang hisses but it's too late. “The Stephen's are here, hide it, quick!”

You toss your scarf and the dildo under your desk. You sit and steeple your fingers, smiling. “Samantha. Darrin. How good to see you!”

It's not until you're home that you realize that you accidentally tossed the dildo into your bag. Wasn't your bag on your desk though?

You shrug your shoulders. Oh well. You pull out your scarf, and by some curse of Hecate, the dildo tumbles to the floor. On instinct, you grasp it by the cock to catch it and then grimace.

“Oh gross,” you complain, dropping it to the floor. It lands on its stand. “Maybe Yeosang is right, maybe it is cursed.”

You contemplate it for a moment and decide to cleanse it of its curse. What if you throw it away and someone else comes across it? It would be better if you were a good Samaritan, right?

So you take it to your bathroom and dig out the cleansing salts you keep in your bathroom drawer. But the bag is empty.

“I know we learned a cleansing incantation in class,” You mutter under your breath.

Deciding to wing it, you find some soap and start to wash the dildo in the sink. You try to think of the spell but instead the image of your arch nemesis comes to mind.

“Fucking Jeong Yunho,” you growl.

At first, he's smirking in your memory because of your failed incantation in class, something he was much better than you at. But then, as you wrap your fingers around the dildo to spread the soap, you imagine him on a bed, your hands wrapped around his cock. You're sucked into your mind's eye, so you don't notice the dildo growing in length in your hands. 

You feel yourself getting wet at the idea of jerking Yunho off. He used to wear those grey sweats that left nothing to the imagination. You think about shoving your hands down them and teasing him.

“Oh fuck,” he whimpers in your mind's eye. “Don't touch me like that.”

“Like what, Yuyu?” You wonder, using both hands now to lather up the dildo.

“I don't--” His lips curl inwards like he wants to deny his next set of words. “I don't want to feel good from your touch.”

You shake your head and drop the dildo. What the fuck were you doing? You immediately wash the dildo off of the suds, and put it on a towel to air dry in your bath. You'd call a classmate tomorrow--certainly not Yunho-- and see if they can't help you with a cleansing incantation.

Clearly it was time for bed.

Except you can't fall asleep. You toss and turn but your brain just can't turn off. Neither can you pussy either, apparently. You keep clenching your thighs together but you're not finding any release. 

“Oh fuck it,” You groan and turn over to dig into your bedside table. 

You grab your pill vibrator and turn it on but--it doesn’t. 

“The fuck?” You mutter to yourself. “I swear to Hecate that I charged this.”

You get up, grumbling, and go find your spelled circle that charges up your magical items. You place your vibrator on it and return to bed.

Except you're still turned on. You spread your legs and touch yourself but your touch is too soft, your fingers not long enough. You only frustrate yourself some more. 

There is a solution…

“I'm crazy,” You say, getting up and making your way to the bathroom.

You find yourself grabbing the damn dildo that you had cleaned and stomping back to your bed. You wiggle until you're comfortable, pillows propping you up, and then you get a good look at the dildo.

It's… you cock your head as you look at it. Wasn't it your basic bitch flimsy dildo earlier? Upon further inspection, it was firmer than you remembered and it had a switch for vibration. 

You shrug, counting on your bad short term memory and turn it on. In a very short time, you've teased your clit with the vibration tip and you're wet enough to push the toy inside of you.

Except why can't you get the image of your old arch nemesis out of your head? The previous imagining of him as a whiney sub didn't fit right now, for whatever reasons that your mindset had changed. 

Now, as you tease the tip of the dildo up and down your slit, all you can imagine is Yunho riling you up like he used to.

“You want this, don't you?” He smirks, watching as the underside of his cock is getting coated by your wetness. 

You shake your head. Why Yunho? Why not Yeosang, who was your normal fapping material? 

You imagine Yeosang looking down his nose despite your protests that this might ruin your friendship. Yeosang's arm flexes as he runs a finger down the center of your body…

…and turns into Yunho triumphantly pushing into your aching cunt.

“Merlin’s beard,” You gasp as Yunho's cock stretches your walls.

“Look at how well you fucking take my cock, Little Witch.”

Why wouldn't this bastard stay out of your wet dreams?

“I've had longer,” You reach for an air of unimpressedness.

You can imagine Yunho’s eyes darkening as they did when you got the upper hand in anything against him. “Then you’ll have no trouble if I double the pace.”

“Wait, Yunho--!” You work the dildo inside of you quickly, drinking in the instant pleasure that you had been craving since the idea of jerking off your old classmate. 

“Oh fuck that is so good,” You can’t help but moan. 

“Poor little horny witch needed her arch nemesis’s cock to get dumb on, hmmm?” Yunho provokes you, without pause in his thrusting. 

“Hnnnn, Yu-yu-” You’re given a reprieve as you slow down, losing the quick pace and going back to a pleasurable slow build. 

“I knew you couldn't keep up that pace,” You shoot back. “Probably nut within two minutes of being in a pussy. I just know those rumors about you back at college weren't it.”

You adjust your position, sliding further down your cushions, your lower half elevated, so that you could get a better angle with the dildo. And then you began that brutal pace that was making you moan loudly in the privacy of your bedroom. You had no sweet clue why the idea of Yunho degrading you in bed was turning you on but you were here for it, if it gave you release.

“Is this rough enough for you?” Yunho is snarling now. “LIke the feel of balls slapping against your ass, do you, Little Witch? I’ll fuck you for so long that you’ll be crying for release.”

…what monster had you created?

For hours you edged yourself, denying your orgasm again and again. At some point you questioned your sanity, because was this really what you wanted? You started to feel like you weren’t exactly in control; that this image of Yunho was pushing for his wants over your own. Because surely you could come if you wanted to, could you not?

You whimper and whine as the cursed dildo moves in and out of your gushing cunt. You are beyond wet, your cum dribbling down your perineum and coating your asshole. 

“Please, Yunho, let me come,” You whine.

You can imagine your worst enemy bracing himself above you, watching how your sweet cunt is taking every inch of him without protest. “No, Little Witch, I don't think I will.”

You moan loudly, canting your hips upwards to find more friction but Yunho places a large, firm hand that encompasses your hip bone and pelvis to hold you in place. Your next breath out is another whine.

“I need to come, please, Yunho!” You beg again.

Your legs widen so that your clit can come in contact with his pelvis as he grinds into you. The sparks that come from that have you swallowing loudly and moaning all over again.

The cursed dildo has adapted to your desires, growing prongs that grate slowly, imitating Yunho’s fingers slowly teasing your clit.

“Yunho, oh my god, Yunho.” Your eyes flutter shut at the sensation of him slowly fucking your loose cunt and the dull edge of his long fingers torturing you.

“I'll never tire of hearing you beg me with my name on your lips,” Yunho chuckles cruelly. “Who knew you'd be such a good cocksleeve for me?”

Your pride takes a hit, but Yunho’s cock is sliding along that spongy part inside of you, and it makes you choke on another long, drawn out moan. “Fuck you,” You whisper.

Yunho’s fingers pinch the hood of your clit, rubbing it between his finger and thumb, giving you pleasure but not enough to get you off. “I think you need a position change.”

You whimper as you turn around, keeping your face against your sheets but your ass in the air. The dildo continues to make messy work out of you, rubbing your clit and moving in and out of your sopping hole. 

Yunho clucked his tongue in disappointment. “Face down, ass up for your arch nemesis, this is kinda sad.”

You didn’t respond, so caught up in the dual pleasure and the fact that you could feel your climax coming to a point. “Yu-yu-yunho,” You stutter. 

“I can feel the way you’re clenching down on me,” Yunho chuckles. 

His hips stop moving and his fingers are crudely inserted into your mouth. He tugs you upwards, his fingers pulling your cheek, until you’re upright on your knees. Then he pushes two fingers down on your tongue. 

“Taste how fucking wet you are for me,” Yunho growls.

You whimper again, doing as commanded, if only to guarantee that he’ll continue fucking you. You swirl your tongue around his fingers. 

“You really would do anything I said just to get to come, wouldn’t you?” Yunho says lowly into the shell of your ear. 

Once Yunho removes his fingers, you start to plead. “What do you want?”

“Mmm, I dunno,” Yunho hums. 

His hips, however, begin back up again and you fall into a stupor. You desperately try to doggy-paddle back into some lucidity. 

“Come inside me?” You offer weakly.

Yunho scoffs. “I could do that at any time. Come on, you can do better than that.”

“Fuck my face?” You grasp at straws.

“It would be nice to see you choke on my cock, but I rather like where I’m at right now,” Yunho deflects.

His wet fingers tweak your sensitive nipples into stiff peaks and you moan airily. “Yunho, please, I’ll do anything.”

“Anything?” Yunho wonders. 

“Jesus Christ, Yunho, just fucking let me come already!” You beg.

Yunho pulls out and you just about break into a sob. You are literally a quivering mess right now. “I’m sorry, I’m sorry, please.”

That’s when you feel Yunho prodding at your asshole. Covered in your wetness already, and Yunho’s cock coated in it as well, he’s able to push past the tight ring. The sensation feels wonderful. His steady but slow pace should be torturous considering how much you had wished him to fuck you faster in your cunt, but this way you feel him fill you up utterly, every inch and it only makes you clench down on nothing in your pussy. 

“How’s that?” Yunho wonders lowly. 

“S-so good,” You moan.

“God, you’ll even let me fuck your cute little asshole, won’t you?” Yunho chuckles with dark amusement. “I really had no clue you’d be the perfect cocksleeve.”

For a moment, all you can hear is the slow susurration of Yunho’s cock filling you to the brim. When his hips meet the flesh of your ass, you arch your back. “Give it to me, Yunho, please, it feels so fucking good,” You moan.

“If only I had two cocks, huh?” Yunho jokes. “Then you’d never leave my bed.”

“Oh god,” You gasp as you feel something else prod your pussy lips. 

The dildo has adapted once again. The cock going in your ass is ribbed so that for every half inch that goes inside of you, your ass has to suck in a ring. Then the cock pushing inside of your pussy has spaced out, raised dots, that pass over the spongy part inside of you. And then, the little rabbit ears to play with your clit. 

“Yunho, I can't,” you cry. Drool pools into the sheets below you, feeling over stimulated and over pleasured.

“Yes you can, you can take it all, Little Witch,” Yunho encourages you. “You’ve got such a greedy body, fuck, you are clenching down on me with both holes, I can’t believe it.”

“Yunho, Yunho, please, please let me come. Come in all my holes. Rub me through another orgasm even if I tell you no, that I'm too sensitive. Fucking take me every night until the new moon, just let me come, please?”

If you had been less fucked out of your skull, you might have noticed that Yunho perked up at the new negotiations. “Every night until the new moon?”

Tears of desperation are running down your face. “Yes. Yes, please, now let me come.”

Yunho’s fingers roughly rub your clit at a faster pace. The cock in your ass moves slowly, making you feel each rib move out, as the cock in your cunt thrusts into you deeper and faster.

“Oh, I'm gonna come, Yunho, oh my god, please, mmmm, please it feels so good, make me come. Fuck me good, Yunho, please,” You babble. 

You're desperate for it. You need it, it's beyond a want, you'll simply die if you don't come. The pleasure is so good and all-encompassing. You just want to come and pass out, if you're being honest.

“Every night I'm coming to your witch’s hut. I'm going to claim you over and over again in your bed. You're going to come on my cock so many times, you'll wish you never picked up my cursed dildo,” Yunho whispers into your ear. “Now, come, Little Witch.”

Your body convulses as you come so hard, you're not sure if you black out or you see stars. Either way, the pleasure courses through every nerve in your body. You cry out. You chant Yunho’s name. And you squirt on your bed, adding to the natural fluids already coating your sheets.

“Oh fuck yes,” Yunho moans, and he's not that far behind you. You feel him fill up both of your holes with his hot seed. Like your pussy needed to be any sloppier than it already was.

You collapse with the dildo still inside of you and fall into a deep sleep.

You only realize it when you wake up with a moan. Your eyes fly open as you realize it was your moan. You pant heavily and you feel like you just came. But how?

Sometime after you had passed out, you had turned onto your side, the way you naturally slept. You glance down your body and see that the dildo is still inside of you and it's moving on its own accord.

You move to your back and grip the base tightly. You see a flash of Yunho on a broom but it's gone when you pull the dildo out of you. It comes out of you with a loud, embarrassing squelch.

“What the fuck?” You curse, staring at the dildo on your bed.

A dark shadow forms in front of you, with the symbol of a five star and a circle around it. A quick glance at your grandfather clock tells you it's way too late for anyone to be calling on you.

You grab a spiderweb silk robe, and wrap it around you. Your jaw drops to the ground when you see that it's Yunho, your old classmate.

Yunho is bracing himself against your door, panting. He's sweating and his hair is sticking to his skin. A faint blush is dotted over his face.

“Do you… always… fall asleep… with your… toys… in you?” He says in between gasps.

Then it hits you. Yeosang had been right all along. The dildo had been cursed. And who better to have cursed it than your arch nemesis? 

You folded your arms under your chest. “I knew you were rotten to the core but really?” 

Yunho has the audacity to smirk at you. “Totally worth it. Got you begging and pleading for me, my name a spell on your lips. And you agreed to let me fuck you every night until the new moon.”

You feel heat shoot up your chest, lick up your neck and scorch your cheeks. “You asshole. Coercion by curse is illegal!”

Yunho raises his chin. “Are you going to take me before the Tree?”

The Tree, where witches and warlocks used to be hung, was now where the local government held trials. You weren't about to explain to the local authorities that you had fucked yourself with a random dildo that turned out cursed because you had been horny and desperate.

When your silence was all the affirmation Yunho needed, he responded with, “So, I'll see you tomorrow night?”

She sighs, the scene in front of her reminiscent of the past few times you had asked her to read over your work. “Don’t be dramatic, get up.”

You stood up straight again, her soft nod a quiet way of telling you to take a seat. Ever since you were young you’d wanted to become a writer, and luckily enough working as a Bartender for one of the city's most frequented exclusive bars had its perks. You met Shuhua around the first month of working there, having built a friendship ever since she ordered a dirty martini. She was the owner of one of the biggest Publishing companies, and was very willing to help accomplish your dream.

Only that took way more effort than you ever thought possible. Shuhua was very confident in your work, the only problem was that she thought you weren’t being authentic enough. It wasn’t like you weren’t trying to, it’s just that sometimes work dragged on and took most of your energy for the day, and by the time you met the deadline, your work came out rushed in areas.

“Y/N,” Shuhua starts, your voice ringing out and cutting her off before she could continue. 

“It’s the Amusement Park scene right? I was half asleep when I wrote it that morning and I should’ve read over it again before printing it out.” You spit out, words tangled together because unfortunately you were always one to grow chatty when nervous.

“That’s not the problem,” Shuhua answers flatly. Your brows furrow. “Chapter thirty two.”

You flushed red, of course you knew what part that was. Not exactly because of it being your own writing, you could forget your own name if it weren’t for your nametag, but because it was the scene you dreaded most when you went over the draft.

Smut scene, not exactly your forte.

“Y/N, I mean this with all uttermost respect, are you even trying?” She flips open the book onto the page in question. “He kisses me. Very nicely.” She reads the words you wrote aloud and you could feel yourself sinking into the seat with every next sentence.

“I mean seriously,” She tosses the book down once again, “Is there a reason your skills become equivalent to that of a six year old when you write a smut scene?”

“I’d be concerned if a six year old was writing that.”

“You know what I mean,” She sighs, “Look Y/N I mean this as a friend, but even more as a publisher, I know you can do better than this. The rest of the novel is proof of that.”

You smile at the compliment. That means she at least liked the majority of the story. 

“Wipe that smile off of your face,” You frown again. “Tell me, what’s the problem? You can’t exactly have a smut book without any of the smut.”

It wasn’t that you weren’t trying to write smut, it had been the best way to navigate the built up emotions from both characters who seemingly hated each other before that, it was necessary. You hadn’t taken into account just how lacking you were in that department until you sat at four am, your computer brightness at full.

“The problem might be me,” You confess. “It’s not like I have much experience to base anything off of.”

Shuhua sighs, “No, that’s not your fault, some men don’t exactly offer the best services when it comes to getting off.” She meant that. It had been the topic of the first conversation you both shared after about three dirty martinis.

“Guess it doesn’t help that the closest I've been to touching a man’s body in a year is brushing hands with the DreamCafe cashier the other day.”

Shuhua’s gaze is pitiful, “Y/N, are you serious?” You nod. “God this is going to end up published five years from now if we keep up this pace.”

You purse your lips, not exactly knowing how to respond. Your list of experiences was about the size of a quick shopping list, and it wasn’t like you were against the idea of sex either, you just were a bit too busy to just go around looking for the first attractive man in your area. Most of the guys around were ugly too, and if they weren’t then they were clients at your workplace, which meant it was a no-go. 

The last thing you needed was to bump into a one night stand asking for a shot of whiskey. Besides you’d been hit on enough at your job to know that most men were way too easy, and something about that just grossed you out. Your friend's eyes brighten, an idea taking place in her mind that forms into a smirk on her face.

“What?” You ask, looking around the room as if it wasn’t just the two of you in there.

“I say this with all of my heart,” she raises a brow, “if you want a good story, you have got to get laid.”

You chuckle nervously, standing up and wiping off your pants. “No thank you!”

“Nope Y/N I’m serious,” She raises her voice slightly, she always did this with other clients but when it was directed to you it was a bit scary.  “Consider it. It might get your creative juices flowing.”

“I don’t really want to think about any juices right now.”

Shuhua rolls her eyes, picking up your paper and reaching forward to pass it to you. “You have amazing skill Y/N, I am not at all doubtful of that, but I think that this could help you sort things out better. If you don’t want to of course you don’t have to, but if that’s the case then I’d consider publishing this without the smut scenes.”

You were barely out of the door when you began contemplating her suggestion. The smut scene was necessary. There was zero way that you were going to publish the book without it, it would feel like you gave up if you did. 

You groaned loudly, the stares from the workers occupying the same elevator going unfazed with how deep in thought you were. Maybe Shuhua was right? Maybe hooking up with someone would make things easier for you as a writer. You always get the best inspiration when you force yourself to explore new things.

The only issue now was who would be your pick? The last thing you needed was to join a dating app and end up meeting a serial killer, you saw that in a movie once. Time felt like a ticking bomb now. If you wanted this book done by the end of the year, you had to do something about your problem, and you had to do it immediately.

☆ 🎸☆

The subtle bed squeaks and giggles were something Jeno usually had zero problem sleeping through, after all for a good few years he was the main person causing those noises. Countless hookups and one night stands he brought back to the shared apartment that he thought didn’t matter much anyway because the other guys were just as loud as he was, except for Jisung and Mark, and because it’s not like any of the girls they saw were here to stay.

He was regretful now as he laid in bed, his pillow squeezed tight around his ears to try and tune out the rest of the world from outside his bedroom door. Now the problem was simple, he was growing a bit more frustrated the past weeks. The rise of Oblivion was still subtle, but he wasn’t a stranger to the city anymore. 

And most would assume that was the best part of their growing fame but really it was the opposite. Jeno never really got the whole Groupie thing, sure he tried it a few times but really revisiting the same face every night wasn’t his style. Usually because it ended up causing assumptions to be made. Like your balls deep in a girl four times out of a week and suddenly she thinks that means that she can stay over and make you dinner, or call you baby and make arrangements to introduce you to her friends.

Jeno shuddered, the memory of Lia making him cringe. He had been in a dry spell ever since. It wasn’t so bad at first, Jeno was an introvert by nature so unless he was tagging along with Donghyuck and Jaemin at their club escapes he was pretty content staying home and hoping on league. But lately he felt like he was really going to go insane, it didn’t help that every other night there were enough sounds he was shocked there hadn’t been any noise complaints. 

Jaemin had suggested he just cave in, let the groupies run their course explaining that not all of them really searched for something more. Jeno declined. Jaemin wasn’t much of a convincing person when he had a stalker problem not even three months ago. 

But now as he hopes that the pillow on his face can cut off enough of the oxygen in his body to have him pass out for at least a couple of hours so he wouldn’t have to hear the monstrosities happening outside, he thinks maybe it would’ve been better if he did have a hookup he could meet up with right about now just to save his eardrums.

He decided for the next best option. Going on a walk and making his grand escape hopefully before the funny business got any louder. He shoved off the pillow, pulling up his phone to check the time. Right on schedule. 

Jeno tried to open and close the door quietly enough to make his presence unknown, but unfortunately the great squeak from the hinges had betrayed him. Causing both his friend, Jisung, and Jisung’s girlfriend to shoot up from where they sat very comfortably on one another on the couch, in a position that made Jeno wish his vision was worse than it already was.

“I- Jeno! When did you get here?” Jisung stuttered, his cheeks growing red by the second.

“Never left,” Jeno shrugged, “sup Darling.”

The girl only smiled tightly, refusing to meet his eyes after he’d caught the two in a compromising position. Jisung scowled, not a fan of how popular the nickname had become within the group of guys since he’s the one that created it in the first place. There was no use in arguing against it now though, not when their fans had already began to implement the nickname themselves. 

“Y’know if you’re going to fuck it would probably be better not to on the couch, it’s kind of a general rule.” One that Jeno could attest to never breaking.

“We weren’t going to–“ Jisung’s brows furrowed in annoyance? It was always so easy to tease the guy. He took a breath instead, ignoring the obvious bait. “It’s four pm, you do understand that right?”

“Yep,” Jeno starts, “Late night.”

Usually Late Night was code for a more rated R style of living. Now poor loser Jeno used the term for what were nights of binge watching Formula One Race highlights and an occasional jackoff session when he really couldn’t sleep. What? It was scientifically proven that release made for better sleep quality.

Darling chose to finally speak then, “Tomorrow you should post a picture or something, fans are wondering what their favorite drummer has been up to.”

He cringed, not too sure just how much fans would be interested in his new super boring lifestyle. “Yeah sure, i’ll get to that.” He could probably just take some pictures today while he’s out running to post for later. “Everyone else out?”

Jisung nods, his attention on the TV as he scrolls through what shows and movies were suggested. “I think Mark went to go help his mom back home today and Jaemin tagged along.”

“He’s not trying to get into Mark’s noonas pants anymore right?”

Jisung chuckles, “No, pretty sure she’s engaged now.”

In Jeno’s humble opinion as a twenty five year old, engagement at twenty six seemed pretty soon but to each their own. No seriously, because his parents themselves were pretty adamant on him finding a potential girlfriend and or wife soon. 

He shakes off the thought, “Hyuck?”

“Who knows, the guy has been way too secretive lately for someone who loves to be in everyone else’s business.”

“You’re still mad he tried joining us on our first date?” Darling reached forward tugging on Jisung’s cheek, a smile on full display.

Jisung rolled his eyes, “Tried is an understatement, he literally sat at the table right next to us.”

Darling only cooed at him, the two becoming lost in their own little world of smiles and extreme public display of affection. Jeno held back a groan of annoyance, instead choosing peace. Since it was late that at least meant that he had time to stop by the bar, he was pretty sure you were scheduled to work today also so why not make things better by venting all of his problems with a couple of drinks in between.

“I’m going out,” He announced to nobody apparently since neither one of them spared him short of a glance. 

Apparently tonight was an exception to an empty club, what with being a Thursday. He’d made an entrance and beelined directly to the bar, which was a bit busier than he usually found it.

You were busy serving up someone’s drink to notice him, a man who stared at you a bit longer than some may deem normal. It wasn’t long until you slid over a glass to the man, who took it with a small glint in his eye and offered up a piece of paper before whispering to you and walking away.

“What’s that about?” Jeno asked curiously, though he was sure he knew exactly what it was about.

You barely flinched, having already noticed his presence before he spoke. “Number,” You groaned before throwing it into the trash, “Why are all of these rich folks so greedy. I work for tips not for numbers.”

Jeno laughs, “Oh I'm sure he wanted to give you a tip alright.”

You deadpanned, already concocting his drink of choice, “You’re here early.”

“Couldn’t exactly get anything else done,” He smiled sweetly in thanks as you slid over the glass.

You giggled, knowing exactly what he was implying. “Donghyuck?”

“Worse, Jisung.” 

That got your attention, the shock in your face masked by your hand coming up to stop yourself from laughing. “Wait really?”

“Unfortunately,” Jeno sighs, “It seems he’s been getting more action than me nowadays.”

Your brows furrow, “Is Lee Jeno in a dry spell?”

“The worst kind,” He groaned, downing the rest of the drink with a quick chug. “I mean seriously, you know how tired my wrist is?”

You laugh, “Whatever happened with Lia?”

Jeno let out another sigh, “Didn’t last long at all. None of them do, at some point they think that they’ll get a little love story when I make it very clear from the start that i’m in no way looking for anything like that. Doesn’t help that because of Jisung and Darling, people assume the rest of us are looking for that.”

“Ah yes,” You slide over another serving you must’ve mixed while he started his rant. “Who would dare assume a twenty five year old wants to settle down.”

“I’m serious,” You chuckle, proceeding to make another person drink while he continues to rant. “It’s like no matter how up front I am about only wanting casual sex people expect to change my mind. It’s exhausting.”

“Tell me about it,” You sigh, “The persistence of some men around here really does give me the creeps. The other day I had to ask Heejin to walk me to my car cause this guy kept saying he would see me after my shift.”

Jeno frowns in concern, “You could’ve called me to pick you up.”

You shrug it off, “It was late anyway, and I had things to take care of.”

“Ah,” Jeno laughs, “You’re still working on that porno.”

“Will you shut up?” You look around frightened that anyone overheard him, lucky for you the crowd had died down.

“Have a drink with me?”

You raise a brow. “I’m on the clock.”

“Then after.” Jeno replies, taking another sip from his glass.

“I’m not drinking that fuck ass poison you sip on.”

He holds back a laugh, “You forget you’re the one who invented it.”

The memory springs to life, the first time you’d practiced mixing drinks for your bartender certification and Jeno being your willing subject. In his defense, he could handle his liquor quite a bit, and being young and broke meant that he’d take any ounce of free alcohol necessary.

You had mixed the worst kinds of alcohols together, whiskeys and tequila stirred into a concoction that somehow looked purple. Jeno had taken a careful sip, not before asking you just how safe it was, and though it must’ve been the most awful thing he’d ever tasted he couldn’t help but give you a shaky thumbs up. You’d been so excited to make your own recipe, and he was in no way going to burst your bubble.

It became his drink of choice since then, and despite the fact that you had tried it for the first time a year ago and realized just how disgusting it was, he continued to order it anyway. Maybe it grew on him, or maybe he just happened to succumb to Stockholm syndrome. Nevertheless, it was still his first choice.

“Yeah and i’ve since then improved, thank you very much,” You wring out a rag to clean up the table where some drunk had spilled a bit of his beer on the counter.

Jeno hums, “So then why don’t you prove it to me? Drinks later?”

You roll your eyes, never really able to say no to him. “If you can wait a couple of more hours.”

He nods, his eye smile mimicking that of a crescent moon. “Done.”

 ☆ 📚 ☆

Your shift went by quicker once Jeno had stopped by. Most of the drinks for the rest of the night were easy shots of whiskey that you served for the other customers besides him since you’d planned on drinking together. And it was nice, being able to make a bit of casual conversation in between working. It was always a relief when Jeno visited, even if that meant he teased you out loud a few times even in front of customers.

Luckily for him, you spared him a beating because he promised to buy your favorite. Somaek.

“I still remember when you would gag every time I ordered a beer,” Jeno jokes, poking at the last piece of fried chicken from the take out you guys had picked up before arriving at your own place. 

You laughed, louder than you had to because alcohol always had a way of making you giggle over any and everything. “I told you, when you mix Soju you can’t taste the gross beer flavor.”

Jeno hums, smiling at you as you devoured the chicken like it was the last meal on earth. His smile quickly vanished when he got a notification on his phone, the brightness only peeking for a second before he clicked his phone off.

“Who is it?”

“Lia,” Jeno groans, “she wants to know if i’d be down to meet up.” You hum, taking a last swig of your glass of somaek. “The worst part is if I were even slightly more tipsy, I think I would’ve caved in.

“You’re insane,” You laugh, the man only meeting your eyes with a look of desperation.

“Yeah unfortunately.”

You pause for a moment, your mind trying to fight against oversharing because when you were about two drinks in you got to that point. Ultimately you lost the internal battle. 

“I’m not having too good of luck in that department either,” You match Jeno’s energy with a sigh. “What makes it worse is that Shuhua says I gotta get laid cause it’s making my book bland.”

He coughs, “What?”

“Yeah,” You continue. “Don’t laugh but I've been really struggling writing a few of the more.. intense scenes. I’m really trying though, it’s just the idea of sex with a random stranger really is weirding me out. Then there’s the deadline, I wanted to have this done by the end of the year but Shuhua’s convinced that unless I get hands on inspiration then i’m totally fucked. Not literally but figuratively—“

“Wait wait wait,” Jeno interrupts you. “You’re telling me Shuhua told you to find somebody to fuck or kiss the book deal goodbye?”

“No? She said I could always just take out any sex scenes.”

Jeno snaps his fingers then, raising his glass to his lips. “But you’re perverted and refuse to.”

You frown, “I’m not perverted! Last I checked i’m not some freak who got hard on a carnival ride.” The memory of Disco pang pang was horrifying at the time it happened, now it was funny to look back on. Especially when you used it against him.

Jeno flushes red, “I told you to stop with that already! I wasn’t hard, it was my phone in my pocket.”

“Yeah sure thing neno,” You winked, pouring yourself another two to three ratio of soju and beer, Jeno’s hand subtly moving to help steady the glass as you poured the shot of soju into it.

“You’re irritating,” He rolled his eyes, though you could tell by the small smile tugging on the corner of his mouth that he was far from being angry at all. It’s just the way the two of you teased one another.

“And you,” you raise your glass like you were making a toast. “need to get laid.”

He lets out a dry chuckle, raising his own drink to clink yours. “Can’t argue with that.”

As you sip down the now room temperature beer, the bitter taste hardly effective since you were now tipsy enough you could hardly taste alcohol, an idea hit you straight on like a bus. You eyed the man in front of you, him being completely clueless to how you were observing him like he was a science experiment.

He was busy calling out meowy’s name with a few psst psst in between to get her to stop playing hard to get and let him pet her. By the time he set your cat onto his lap your mouth spoke before your brain could stop it.

“We should have sex!”

Jeno’s eyes widened tenfold, and because of how you’d forgotten to adjust your volume before speaking, meowy became startled and ran straight out of the living room space and into your bedroom.

His silence lasted long enough for you, despite the cloudy mind, to understand just how bizarre the suggestion was without any explanation. So you gave him just that. 

“Think about it neno,” The usage of the childish pet name in this topic of discussion caused you to slightly cringe. “You need to get laid because your brain refuses to function without direct stimulation to your– thing.” You emphasized the word by jerking your hand forward in the direction of his crotch. “And I need to get laid so I can get inspiration for my book!”

The man was too stunned to speak, his hands coming up to his face to rub at his eyes like this was a dream. Unfortunately for him, it was not. “You can’t be serious.” He finally speaks.

You nod, “Why wouldn’t I be?”

“I don’t know y/n maybe because i’m your best friend and I don't think we’ve ever seen each other in that way?”

Now it’s your turn to roll your eyes, “There’s no romance to this at all. Sure attraction plays a subtle part in this but it’s mostly about trust.” He sits still for a moment, pondering. 

“We don’t have to, it was just a suggestion.”

You say it as if the words that left your mouth weren’t just a ticking time bomb in Jeno’s poor mind. You took another swig of your drink, falling into the same ordinary rhythm the two of you had from earlier.

Jeno speaks up barely holding in a cough when he asks, “Trust?”

You nod again, “I don’t really want to just sleep with just any guy, most of them don’t even know how to please a woman let alone charm them. I need inspiration, not regrets.”

Jeno smiles at that, “So you’re saying I know how to please women?”

Instead of falling into his bait you offer a shrug, "I've heard word, why? You saying what I heard is wrong?”

He chuckles lightly ignoring your dig, “Not at all. Just taking precaution. Wouldn’t want you to end up like Lia.”

You suck your teeth in annoyance, “You wouldn’t have to worry about anything, it’s not like it would change anything.”

“Y/N,” He calls your name again. Only this time there’s no teasing, no mocking. “You do realize that sex can change a lot of things for some people.” He speaks honestly, most of it coming from experience of countless horror hookup stories you’d heard first hand time and time again. “I trust you a lot, and i’m not against the idea but I don’t want things to ever get weird for either of us,” Jeno sighs. “The last thing I want is to make things complicated.”

“Well then it’s a good thing that none of us are looking for anything more than sex.” You reply directly. “The best part is it shouldn’t be awkward at all, we know each other well enough.”

Jeno takes a moment, a deep breath of consideration while you’re busy swirling your glass around. 

“Okay,” He answers, your gaze falling over to him in an instant. “We can talk more about this later then, when you’re not drunk.”

“I’m not drunk.”

He hums, “How many fingers?” He asks as innocent as ever, contradictory to his middle finger standing straight and tall in your face.

“One,” You answer, shoving his hand away. “and you can shove it up your ass, asshole.”

He smirks, “According to our earlier conversation you’d probably prefer it up yours.”

“Motherfucker—“

“I’m serious though Y/N, we can talk more about this later.”

You frown. “Fine,” You stand up from where you sat on the floor, “then i’m going to bed.”

“Go ahead,” He says it like it’s his own house. “I’ll clean this up.”

“Sure,” You reply, stretching your arms and legs before heading for your bedroom. “Use the spare by the way, don’t go home this late.”

You were able to afford an apartment with a spare bedroom, one that Jeno often occupied. Especially these days with how many people were staying in the band’s shared apartment these days. 

“Yeah yeah, make sure not to sleep on your back, the last thing I want to wake up to is you dead from choking on your own vomit.”

“Don’t say things like that!” You shout in disgust, earning a laugh from him.

“Goodnight neno.”

“Night, Princess.”

☆ 🎸☆

Jeno always knew you were unpredictable, but this moment really took the cake. 

He had cleaned up your apartment, figuring that the more he kept his mind occupied the less he had to actually overthink the arrangement you had suggested.

On one hand, the message was clear. You both got along so well because of how similar the two of you viewed the world. Hookups were nothing more than a sense of relief for you both, so as much as he loved to tease, he knew that there really was nothing to worry about. The other hand was complicated because for some reason he began to over analyze everything. 

How would this work? Would the act itself be awkward? Would this ruin your friendship? Is this a one and done deal?

There were too many variables to consider, and Jeno wasn’t sure how this would go about if you weren’t just talking out of your drunk mind and really meant it. He took a deep breath as he stared into the mirror in your bathroom, setting down the toothbrush he had there because of course he had his own.

And as he laid in the spare bedroom, the subtle scent of your lavender sheets filling his brain, he chose to do what was either going to be the worst mistake in his life, or the best.

Really though, what was the worst thing that could happen? The both of you have sex and hate it?

“I stand by what I said,” You mumbled over the spoon in your mouth. “I think it could do us both good.”

Jeno had barely gotten the sentence out when you brought up the question again, this time over breakfast without any alcohol in your system to use as a cushion in case Jeno declined. Though Jeno wasn’t too sure you needed it anyway.

You were firm with your question, not in a way that made him feel like he had to agree but instead as if it was a simple request such as, What should we have for dinner? and not Do you want to have casual sex?

“You don’t have to agree with me, I can always figure out a solution to my own problems and I'm sure you’d have zero problems in that department either.” You added, looking over his arms that were pretty distracting. He was wearing a sleeveless tank top, the shirt of his he left with a pile of clothing, largely consisting of hoodies you had borrowed and forgot to give back, and clothes he kept at your place for the times he would stay over.

The issue was the opposite. Jeno has had many problems in that department lately.

“Okay,” Jeno begins, clearing his throat. You reacted with wide eyes. “Yeah sure why not?”

You smile happily, as if he’d surprised you with an all paid trip to the Bahamas or something. “Jeno, you have no idea how much this is going to help me!”

He frowns, surely you couldn’t be that inexperienced. The two of you had countless stories shared. You especially had a habit of rambling about. 

“Wait,” You hop out of your seat. “We need to make a list of rules!” Before Jeno can comment you’re already running to your room, returning slightly breathless with a pen and paper in hand. 

You set it down on the table slowly beginning to move the pen drawing line after line, your writing was surprisingly messy for someone who was an author. Jeno didn’t comment on it though, he doesn’t have time when you’re already pushing him further down the dining bench, scooting closer to him as you set down the paper that now reads. 

Rules for our arrangement.

“What’s this?” Jeno asks, earning a bored look from you that translates to, are you really asking?

“Rules, I think it’ll be best so we can note our boundaries before just hopping into things.” Your smile is tight but genuine, which only makes Jeno realize just how nervous you really are. You weren’t the type to show your fears, but you were always one to be cut and clear about anything else you felt. 

Jeno nods along, smiling softly in hopes that it’ll help you feel less awkward. “Okay, what do you have in mind?”

You smile widely, this time with full fledged confidence. “I’m glad you asked. So for starters, I think it’s best we start this arrangement with a few notes on what we are okay with and things we aren’t okay with.”

“Like?” Jeno asks before taking a sip of water out of his cup.

“Like, Anal!” Jeno chokes on the beverage, coughing repeatedly to regain composure. His scene doesn’t alarm you much, so you press further. “I don’t ever want anything up there.” You state flatly.

“Sure,” He nods, having cleared his throat and this time taking a sip to fully clear out his throat. “it’s not really my thing either.”

“Great.” You write down the first rule, Sex will only involve things the both of us are okay with. And in parenthesis: No Anal.

“Is there anything you wouldn’t want to do?” You question him. Jeno tries to think, it’s a bit harder to think about when you’re put on the spot. There’s nothing he’s too uncomfortable with that he wouldn’t just say in the moment, so he opts for the obvious answer.

“No Anal.”

You let out a laugh, “Great I guess we're both on the same page then.”

This felt almost ridiculous, but as long as you were happy he wasn’t going to question much. “Another thing, I need your permission to allow all of our uh– experiences to be used as inspiration for my novel.”

“I know Y/N trust me i’m cool with it.”

“Okay because the last thing i’d want is for you to be offended or upset if I write something you disagree with.”

Jeno shook his head, “Nothing to be ashamed of, I have quite the reputation i’ve upkept.”

You scowled, his cocky attitude baiting your reaction. “Okay, but don’t be offended when I make sure to add your size.”

“Is that supposed to be a threat? Because I can show you now if you’d like.” Jeno replies mockingly, reaching for his shorts.

You reach to stop his hand, “Let’s keep it in your pants at least a little while longer.” He shrugs, his arms folding around his waist as you write.

“Are there any rules you want to add?”

Jeno ponders for a moment. There wasn’t much he thought he could add with all seriousness. The situation itself was not very serious on his part, sleeping with a close friend all because he couldn't find a regular hookup who didn’t want dinner dates and eventual marriage? He felt pretty ridiculous, but since you had been the one to suggest it, it at least kept him from feeling like a weirdo. 

There was one thing he needed as a rule, something that would give him peace of mind going into this arrangement.

“We have to separate our sex life and our friendship.” He spoke after some time. You had met his eyes with a brow raised.

“I’m sure that’ll be a bit difficult considering we’re going to be friends who fuck.” You joke.

He lets out a small chuckle, before adding with complete sincerity. “I think it’s important that we keep both our sexual life and our friendship separate. There’s no reason to let any of it get mumbled and jumbled, that's why friends with benefits never work.”

“Right,” You breathe out. “So then you’d prefer?”

“I’d prefer that no matter what happens, things won’t ever change. No matter what. Even if we stop sleeping together, we need to remain friends.” 

It wasn’t just a request, what he wanted was a promise. One on paper that was needed in the rare case that everything went to shit. He wouldn’t be able to agree to it at all if that wasn’t agreed upon.

You met his eyes, a reassuring smile on your face. “Then if at any point any one of us want out,” You scribble down the rest in handwriting he could hardly understand. “or for any other reason, we talk to each other.”

The room was met with silence as you finished writing down everything, reading it over like it was one of the ten commandments until the two of you had it ingrained in your brains. 

The quietness only broke when Jeno laughed aloud after teasing you by moving his thumb away from the ink you had to stamp his fingerprint on the paper. All uneasiness or anxieties vanished just like that, the two of you rebooting back into your playful dynamic.

“There!” You exclaimed happily once Jeno gave in and allowed you to bring his red stamped finger onto the paper. 

Jeno hardly had time to admire you, his phone alarm going off reminding him of the Band’s practice today. He locked his phone, the blasting sound coming to a quick halt in an instant.

“I have to go now.” Jeno stood up from the seat, sliding across the floor easily even while you were still sitting. 

“Wait!” You stuttered, a blush reaching your face as all nervousness came back in full force. “Uh. When did you want to start? Y’know.. doing.. stuff.”

Jeno had to use every fiber of his being to resist making fun of you. “Whenever you want to.”

You nodded. “Then how about tomorrow? I don’t have work so we could maybe, I don't know, go out?”

Yeah, Jeno really had to use the last of his restraint. He chose to laugh instead, “You trying to ask me out on a date?”

You scowled, “I’m just trying to set the mood.”

“Yeah i’m not sure that’s how friends with benefits really works,” He says too casually for someone who has never been in that arrangement until now.

“Right.” You reply.

“Y/N,” he calls out. “You can just call whenever you want to.”

He hopes the implication is clear.

“Sure, you too.”

With the way you look at him he knows that you understood. There’s a quick goodbye before Jeno is out the door. He hopes the guys don’t mind his slight tardiness, though if he’s serious almost all of the group had a problem being late to practice.

He feels a bit of relief, the two of you having found solutions to your growing problems. Well, at least a bit of his growing problems, but it wasn’t something he’d like to dwell on at the moment. 

There wasn’t much anxiety, at least on his part, more so the awkwardness radiating off of you not knowing how to start but he was sure that the feeling would shrink with time. If he weren’t booked and busy with practice at the moment, he would’ve probably tried easing your embarrassment using a different method. That was mostly him thinking with his dick, which nobody could blame him for, it had been a pretty hard couple of months.

All in all, Jeno couldn’t feel more confident. It was a win-win situation, and since the both of you had agreed and talked everything over he was sure that nothing would go wrong.

☆ 📚 ☆

The moment Jeno had left your home, you let out a deep sigh. 

To be completely honest, you had woken up this morning pulling the hair from your head as memories flooded your mind. You weren’t even sure you had wanted to step out of your bedroom hearing the man lurk around the place from behind the door. 

You debated resting until he finally gave up and left, but the growl your tummy had let out at the smell of everything delicious wafting into your room had caused you to cave in.

On the bright side, as much as you were stupid and impulsive, he’d actually agreed. It saved you the embarrassment of being rejected, not to brag but that wasn’t something you were accustomed to experiencing. And now all of it was hitting you, at full force.

Friends with benefits.

You genuinely had zero clue just how that worked, did this mean that now at any time either one of you could just call on one another like a booty call? You let out a sigh, Meowy let out a meow in response, like she was asking where the man had gone.

You weren’t quite sure that you made the best decision, but only time would tell. For now you could feel ease creeping up your spine, this would solve one problem for now and in the worst case scenario, it would probably end in bad sex. 

It was a chance you were more than willing to make.

There was nothing that could’ve mentally prepared you for heading into this type of arrangement. And no it wasn’t the friendship thing, it was not knowing just how to jump start into sex without looking insane.

The two of you sat in your living room, barely any distance between the two of you where you lay on the floor, watching the TV. Which was ironically out of the norm when the two of you were usually cuddling during your movie marathons. Everything felt off, even the movie playing on the TV that truthfully you randomly picked and now realized was definitely not something you were rating higher than one star on Letterboxd later.

Meowy had made herself a bit too comfortable with Jeno. Lying on his lap like nothing mattered in the world more than his hands petting her. Ridiculously enough, you felt a short wave of envy, shoving that feeling down immediately because in what world would you be jealous of your cat for living carelessly.

You were sure it had been almost an hour of just sitting next to each other, not a single one of you moving a single bone in your body. You were pretty sure he was waiting for a signal, but every time you had the nerve to try, you shrank in on yourself in an instant, overthinking everything. It was like the moment had long passed, that was until the worst thing imaginable happened.

There were moans blaring out of the TV, the movie having shifted from its weird cultish horror vibe into a porno. Meowy wasn’t a fan of the shift in volume, hopping off of your friend and walking away into her cat bed. You cursed silently, of course your cat would leave you to fend for yourself.

The uncomfortable silence filled the room, safe for the excruciatingly long sex scene playing out in front of you that felt like it was mocking you. You were suddenly thankful the room was dim enough that your redness would go unseen.

“Are you trying to subliminally tell me something?” Jeno whispered, his voice too close to your ear that only made you blush harder.

You refused to meet his gaze, if you did then you’d lose the last of your dignity. For a moment you weren’t sure how to reply, deciding to use all of your strength to sound as confident as ever.  “If I was then would that finally get the ball rolling?”

He chuckled, his hand suddenly slipping around your waist. “Is that what you were waiting for?”

There were always times where the two of you would have a conversation and he’d allow his cocky nature to slip out. This time felt different though, it was like the room shifted with his tone.

“Yes.”

His eyes widened at your response, a slight falter from not having expected you to be so honest. “Then I'm sorry I kept you waiting.” He answers truthfully. His arms suddenly pull you closer to sit on his lap. The same arms that he left on full display with his sleeveless shirt, it really didn’t make things any easier for you. You’d been making subtle glances at them hoping he was into manhandling, which seems now you were right.

“How should I make it up to you?” He tilts your chin up with his fingers. Your faces are only inches apart. Damn he was good at this. You were aware of his game, you’d seen it play out many times in person. But why did it suddenly feel so different when it was directed at you? You suck in a breath, his thumb tracing the side of your stomach louder than the long forgotten movie playing behind you. 

“Y/N,” He calls your name. “We don’t have to do anything.” His voice is soft and reassuring, only adding fuel into the growing heat.

“I want to, it's just,” You frown, hoping you don’t sound ridiculous. “I don’t know how to start.”

He nods in understanding, his palm wrapping around your cheek. “Do you want me to lead?”

“Please.” 

You were sure you came off a bit more desperate than you meant to, but with the way his hips suddenly shifted just a fraction gave you the feeling he wasn’t complaining.

“Okay.” His voice is featherlight, you could feel his breath quicken as he closes the distance between you. “Then is this okay?” He asks, his thumb still tracing over your body, now fixated on the lower curve of your back.

You barely manage to nod before he’s connecting his mouth onto yours, a short peck to feel out the action before fully engaging. If any of your worries still existed they were certainly gone now, tuned out by the heavy beating of your heart. You leaned forward this time, your lips meeting this time with much less hesitation.

Jeno brought his right hand up to cup your face, his left hand around your waist, the grip firm to hold you in place. His teeth bite into your bottom lip, pulling a tiny gasp from you just to slide his tongue over the skin. You take that as a challenge, meeting him with your own eagerness and sliding your own tongue into his to deepen the kiss.

He groans, his hips shifting you into a more comfortable position on him. You’re not sure how many seconds pass like that. You slightly grind against him, the simple peck from earlier turned into a full on makeout session. Your hands fondling his arms to keep yourself from losing all of your balance as it grows heated. And just as your chest begins to tighten with every breath of yours being stolen by him, he pulls away.

You take in a deep breath trying to steady yourself, his eyes meeting yours with a question. One that you already have an answer to.

“Bedroom.”

The word comes out rushed and whiny, earning a low chuckle from him before he lifts you up with him. You had of course made out with people before, most of that happening in your early college years but this time was different. Jeno had taken your breath away but with that all motor function too, you noticed it now as your feet felt way too light.

He must’ve picked up on it, instead lifting you into his arms like you weighed equivalent to a pillow to him, and heading straight towards your bedroom. “Neno–“ You squeaked out, caught off guard by his sudden action. You couldn’t see his face from how he was carrying you over his shoulder but you were sure he was giving his signature samoyed smile.

You were proved right a moment later as he steadily set you down onto your bed. “Tell me, Princess, just how many book drafts of yours played out like this?”

Your cheeks reddened, he was spot on with the question. Male lead plopping the Main Character onto the bed before pounding into her with zero warning. The only thing that was missing was the use of his belt as a restraint for the main character’s hands. As much as that sounded interesting though, it was a little too early to hop into something as complex as that. So for the meantime, this would do.

It must’ve been a rhetorical question, since he doesn’t give you time to answer before he's lifting your shirt up and off your body. You pull him in for another kiss, all tongue and teeth, your patience growing thin with every second building up. You let out a happy sound, one that he drinks up, one hand sliding against your back to unclasp your bra in a quick second.

You push him back, noting the messy hair and the way his chest is practically begging for air. “You are way too good at that.”

“What can I say, i’ve had some practice.” He replies, meeting your mouth for a deep but short kiss compared to the ones before. You get the memo and start removing your own bra, discarding it onto the floor. But as a simple minded woman who believes in equality, and seriously loves a nice chest even on a man, you lift his shirt up all the same, meeting your own pair of fabric somewhere you couldn’t care less about.

He detaches from your lips, his mouth leaving kisses around your neck before slowly making it down to your breasts. “Fuck, you’re just as beautiful as I imagined.”

“Have you imagined me in this position on multiple occasions?” You tease, not expecting an answer.

“Only since I had to leave you to go practice when we signed our lives away.”

“That was only a day ago.”

“Really? It felt way longer than that.” Your words catch in your throat with how close his breath is over your sensitive nipple, every nerve in your body on standby waiting for him to do something. Lucky you, he doesn’t leave you waiting any longer. His mouth connecting around your chest and sucking harsh enough to make you moan.

The pleasure is foreign to you, the only experience you had being your own hands pinching against your chest whenever you seeked pleasure by yourself. Other men had usually disregarded that part of your body at all, unless of course they used it to their own benefit, squeezing onto your chest as if it were their own personal stressball. With every lick to your nub it sent a jolt to your body, growing hotter. 

You could barely keep your eyes open now, focusing all of your attention on keeping the noise down because it wasn’t like you owned the house, it was rented. Jeno’s hand snakes down again, this time sliding through the elastic waistband of your shorts, tracing the thin fabric of your panties slick with your arousal.

“Neno please,” You whine, your hips growing weak even to the slightest touch of his fingers against you, subconsciously trying to grind down on his hands.

He detaches from your lips, his gaze hazy while he meets yours. You can already feel the ache on your chest from the littered bruises he’s left forming. Jeno must be growing impatient too, because he’s pulling down your shorts at your plea in record breaking time. 

“Lube?”

“The bottom drawer to the right.”

The loss of his touch feels like an eternity of hell until he’s back again. Your cunt clenching against nothing as his hand pushes your legs further apart. You have to give yourself a moment to calm your nerves, the sound of the bottle opening signaling them to come back at full force.

“Fuck baby,” Jeno starts. “We might not even need that much with how wet you are for me.”

As cocky as he sounds, it only fuels your fire. Fuck Jeno for living up to his expectations without even having fucked you yet. You already felt stupid enough.

He slides a finger through the lace fabric, shoving it to the side as his middle finger pushes through your folds, the bed talk stalling you for long enough to warm the lube he’d gathered onto his fingers. It worked well, your cunt squeezing around his finger from where he curled it up. His fingers were much thicker than yours, a feeling you hadn’t felt in quite a while because you’d been the one prepping yourself most of the time.

“Another one please,” You breathe out. His ringer finger pushes in next, filling you up more and causing another moan to push past your lips. 

“You’re so tight,” He mutters, his eyes zoned in on the way your cunt sucks in his fingers. His hand is moving on its own then, dragging slowly out of you before pushing in with more force. You let out another whine, your thighs threatening to shut on instinct to which he pinches them.

You wince, caught off guard by the sudden sharp pain as he smoothes his finger over the spot. “Keep them open, be a good girl and do that for me.”

The nickname does something to you, call it a hidden praise kink you hadn’t even realized you had until now. Jeno’s fingers are moving with much more pace now, not enough to completely satisfy you but enough to have you seconds from begging for more. His mouth clashes against yours again, swallowing every low noise you make as his fingers scissor you apart, and when he finally adds the third finger you feel seconds away from snapping. 

You accidentally bite down on his lip, a warm metallic taste meeting your mouth that you can’t help but to taste more of. Jeno has no issue with this, the thrust of his fingers getting more urgent than before, his tongue begging to taste more of his own blood mixed with the sugary taste you have from snacking on artificially flavored gummies.

“Fu–nghh— neno”

You’re close, and all it takes is one sharp thrust of his fingers curling right into the spot you needed him most to have you finishing. Your eyes rolling back with the very welcome feeling of your orgasm washing over you.

His fingers continue to move, dragging out your pleasure for as long as he could until you're wincing from the overstimulation to which he removed them, your cunt suddenly far too empty. You feel like your soul has been knocked out of your body, taking a few deep breaths to gather the last of your energy.

“Are you okay?”

The chuckle slips out of your lips before you can even stop it. “Dude you just made me cum from your fingers alone and you’re asking that?”

Jeno looks around, confused on how that’s a shocking revelation. “Yes?”

You sigh, “I’m okay, just need a moment.” You open your eyes, his large frame still holding your thighs apart in between you. You probably shouldn’t laugh at a moment like this, but he really looks just like an obedient puppy waiting for your next move. 

He catches the smile on your face, his expression growing confused. “What?”

“Nothing, you just look really cute right now.”

He frowns, “Aren’t I supposed to look hot and sexy and so unresistable you can’t help but climb onto me?”

You shrug, “sure you look all of those things too.” 

His frown deepens, he cups your hands with his own, holding them on either side of you, Not rough at all, if you wanted to you could move him off of you, but a part of you really liked the illusion of him pinning you down. Perhaps another time he’d really use all of his strength, now that idea sent another wave of arousal in between your legs.

Jeno catches on quickly, how can he not with the way you’re squirming around. “You like being manhandled?” 

You don’t answer. You trace over his body instead, eyeing the very prominent bulge in his pants. Since your legs were free now you bring up your knee, rubbing it ever so slightly against him. He shutters at the contact.

“Neno,” You whisper his name like it was a prayer. “I think i’m ready for the next round.”

He lets out a short laugh, though there’s hardly any humor in his tone whatsoever. You take note of his ears, the faint pink from how badly he must’ve been holding back. If you were reading him correctly, that meant he was probably too close to snapping. You were thankful he was focused on your knee rubbing against him, cause if he saw your expression now it would’ve given yourself away.

He lets go of where he had your hands, giving you the opportunity to wrap them around him and feel up his muscles you’d been way too distracted earlier to fully admire. 

“Fuck–“ He groans. The sound like music to your ears and further encouraging you to touch him. He pulls his shorts down slightly, revealing the waistband of his boxers, the print of his dick making your mouth water.

You’re already reaching forward, cupping him firmly. A wince sounding from his lips. “Can I?”

He nods. You hook down the fabric, his thick and needy cock slapping against him fully erect and flushed against him. You pump him twice, using your other hand to reach for the condom he’d grabbed earlier when he got the bottle of lube.

There was no going back after this, you did realize that as you rolled the condom down onto him. “You’re sure about this?” He asked one last time, his breathing heavy waiting for your answer to finally cave in.

“Never been more sure.” Within the next second you feel the stretch as he pushes into you, your cunt squeezing his thick girth inches at a time until your hips meet his own. He gives you enough time to adjust, kissing down the side of your shoulder to help calm your nerves.

It’s far from your first time, but this was nothing like any of the men you’d had before. His size fills you up in all of the ways you’d only thought possible in some kind of fairy tale.

The sound of your name being called makes you open your eyes that you hadn’t even realized were shut. You clench around him unintentionally, pulling a groan from his throat that only feeds your confidence. You could tell based off of how his arms tightened their hold around you, how wrecked he was. 

“You can move.”

He wastes no time, setting a slow pace that somehow drives him directly to your sweet spot. He’s way less quieter than you’d assumed he’d be in bed, his noises low yet heavy, matching your moans as he continues to thrust inside you.

It doesn’t take long for you to feel your orgasm approaching once more. And with how patient he’d been, it was like a prayer had been answered. 

“Neno I- I’m—“

“I know baby me too,”

With an embarrassing amount of thrusts the two of you came undone together. His mouth landing on yours to capture the last of your screams as your pussy clenched around him with your release, triggering him to finish into the condom.

After a quick moment of the two of you registering everything, you can’t help but laugh, Jeno's wounded expression only causing you to laugh more. 

“I’m sorry it’s just,” You catch your breath, stopping yourself from looking any more insane than you probably did now. “Fuck, those girls were really not lying.” His head tilted in confusion. “You really are big.”

He laughs then, "That's really nice and all but if you keep saying things like that I might have another problem.” He replies, referring to the fact that he’d just come once and was not quite ready for another round.

“What’s that saying? What’s one’s problem is another's solving?” You smirk.

He scoffs, pulling out of you with a swift action that makes you wince. “You could barely last one round, save it for next time.”

“Me?” You gasp. Jeno stands up already having discarded the condom in your trash. He’s reaching for his boxers from the ground to put on as some kind of shield. You were a bit disappointed, his size while soft was surprisingly just as impressive as it was when it was hard. “I came twice!”

He’s back then, a damp towel in his hand to clean around your sensitive thighs. “And you also scared the living shit out of me when you went limp after you came the second time.”

You roll your eyes, “Not my fault you fucked me dumb.”

He snorts, tossing the damp towel onto the ground as he lays back down beside you, pulling you close to his chest in what could be viewed to some as intimate, but to you two was normal behavior.

“Ew you’re gross and sweaty!” 

He hums, “So are you.”

You groan, “Release me you freak.”

“Aftercare is highly recommended after any heavy sex session, just lie with me for a bit, okay?”

“I’d argue it could’ve been heavier,” You mumble, succumbing to his hold around you.

“Next time,” His voice is light, leaving you with a strange sense of peace. You couldn’t help but stare now. With his eyes shut you could observe him closer than ever before. The soft lips of his that had been on you multiple different times tonight, red and bruised from the makeout session you had earlier. 

You squeeze an arm out of his hold, raising your fingers to trace over the small bite on his bottom lip. “I’m sorry I bit you.”

“Don’t be,” He sounded dazed, like he was seconds away from falling asleep. “If I had a problem then I would’ve stopped you.”

“Oh so you are a freak!” He hums, not denying it. “Oh my god you are, aren't you! No wonder those girls had zero plans on letting you go.”

He opens his eyes then, meeting you with a bored look. “I wouldn’t be talking if I were you, aren’t you the one who was seconds from coming just from me pinning you down?”

“What?” Your jaw drops. “That’s so untrue! This is defamation!”

He shuts his eyes again, seemingly ignoring your remarks yet keeping a smile on his face the entire time. 

“I could sue you! I’d take that drumset from you in a second.”

“Then would you take my job too?” He replies mockingly.

“Hey I could! The guys really happen to like me, you know I think if I talked it out with them we could work something out.”

He hums, “Then I guess i’d have to learn how to make some drinks and fill in for you?”

“I think bartender Jeno would suit you well.”

“Jeno? But what happened to Neno?” You regret even speaking to him instead of just playing dead after sex the second he brings up the nickname. 

You choose instead to turn your cheek to him with a pout. “You really love yourself some pillow talk.”

“I’m not the one who started it.”

“I wasn't pillow talking with you I was threatening you.” You retort. “You’re always so full of yourself you know not everyone is trying to bed you, right?”

He laughs, “Did I not just bed you?”

“Ah but that doesn’t count!” 

You’re both laughing then, every single ounce of regret fading away. You were silly to ever think that things could change between you two, and this was proof enough that sex didn’t necessarily mean everything would be different between the two of you. 

If you could flick off every movie and novel for overdoing the trope you would right now. Because as you laid next to Jeno you realized one thing, it would take more than just one hookup to erase the history you had both built together.

Part Two: 

Dare

☆ 🎸☆

Jeno was in no way secretive, but he also wasn’t the type to tell just everyone every single activity he found himself doing daily. He was quite the opposite to Donghyuck in that way. Where the lead singer acted as if he would die if he wasn’t in the loop twenty four seven, Jeno kept most things lowkey. 

But there was one issue with that.

“Late for the third practice in a row,” Donghyuck popped out of seemingly nowhere, trailing behind Jeno as he made his way over to the couch to set down his bag.

“Don’t know what you mean, Jisung isn’t here yet either.”

“Thats because the dude is probably getting his dick wet right now,” Jeno scowls at the idea, “You, have been getting zero action.”

“You don’t know what I do in my free time.”

“I know you’ve racked ten hours a day on valorant all last month,” Donghyuck hums, tilting his head like he had discovered groundbreaking information.

Jeno sighs. “You’ve been in my room.”

“I told you, your controller runs smoother than mine.”

“So then grab it and leave, why are you snooping?” Mark tunes in from where he’s standing, ironically enough, tuning his own guitar. 

“Because JenJen has been out way more than he usually is, and I know he’s not at any bars or clubs because I've been at all of them.”

“Ever considered he was avoiding you?” Jaemin smirks.

“Well no, that's unlike him.”

“I’m still here, y'know." Jeno shakes his head, nodding over at Mark in a quick apology. “Sorry, time went by quicker than I’d thought.”

It was the truth after all. He had made it very clear to you that he ran a tight schedule today, one that miraculously worked out in your favor considering how easy it was for Jeno to give into your whiny pleas. Especially when they were all he could hear with your hands in his hair roughly tugging as he ate you out slowly. It didn’t take long for you to finish on his tongue, it did however end with a quickie that lasted a bit longer than it should’ve.

“Don’t worry about it. Five minutes means nothing when you compare it to,” Mark checks his watch, the sound of the door twisting open. The creaky door revealed Jisung, who looked too sweaty for someone who drove himself here. “Ten.”

“I’m sorry I’m late I was—“

“Nobody wants to hear about your sex life.”

“I do.”

Jaemin winks at Jisung, the other frowning. Jeno would’ve laughed if it weren’t for the fact that if he made a single wrong move all attention would be directed to him. He moves away from the group slowly, hoping they’re too busy drilling the youngest to notice him slipping by. 

Unfortunately, that's not the case. “You alright man? I feel like the only times I ever see you is when we’re practicing.”

Jeno stops in his tracks, Mark standing before him with a slightly worried look on his face. Mark was a worrier. He didn’t like to make it very known, usually he played it off as just curiosity. But Mark always had the habit of playing with his fingers when he was concerned. 

“I’m great, actually just been spending more time with friends.” Jeno hopes the excuse is enough to let him escape, though if Jaemin was the one he said that to he would’ve been caught instantly.

“Oh,” Mark seems relieved, “Y/N? You should bring her over some time, or better yet bring her over to our set next weekend.”

“Yeah man I’ll let her know but I’m pretty sure she’s going to be busy.”

He knew you’d be busy, you mentioned that the night before, about how busy your work schedule was going to be and so there wouldn’t be much time in between to hang out. You had apologized profusely, to which he’d told you there was seriously no reason to. If he could last months without sex, he could last one week while he was out of town.

“Y/N! We haven't seen her in a while!” Jaemin joins the conversation, “How has she been?”

Mark is quick to give a short answer to him, one that Jeno is thankful for as he steps towards his place, drumsticks in hand. The other guys were still talking to each other, the conversation shifting to how Mark doesn’t appreciate them being late constantly. Jisung arguing about how he’s in more trouble when Donghyuck has shown up late to practice more times than Jisung. 

The guys were certainly not used to the rise of fame they’ve had, adjusting to a busier schedule and way more practice sessions than ever before. Jeno hadn’t even had time to check in with his family so much anymore because of how busy he was.

The reminder plagues his mind, making him reach for his phone to swipe through the family group chat that he hadn’t been catching up with for reasons that would only make him guilty. There wasn’t much to catch up on except for his cousin asking him for tickets to Oblivion’s show this weekend and another asking if he’s bringing Jaemin as his plus one to his sister’s wedding. That one he skipped past because Yeri had really been trying to make moves on Jaemin 

Shit. He had forgotten about how soon that was. He slid out of the chat, noticing a more recent text from his mother.

Mom: I hope you aren’t forgetting about the wedding. I ordered your suit for you and we still need to get it tailored. Stop by soon, I’ve seen my own son on my phone more than in person.

He shoots back a simple reply. He would make sure to visit her soon. More than likely after the show, since his hometown was only half an hour away. 

He hadn’t been home in a while, something he was regretting now that he realized it. He did love visiting his family, the problem was that as much as they supported him they, his mother mostly, couldn’t help but make subtle comments.

Like why wouldn’t he want his own place? She was willing to pay his rent so he didn’t have to share space with all of his roommates. Jeno declined on multiple occasions. As much as the guys were annoying, he didn’t mind their company.

Jeno grew up in a household different to the rest. His parents spent most of their time abroad, his father managing the family business and his mother spending most of her time performing in front of stadiums as a nation-known cellist. He did have his older sister, Seulgi, though she was busy with business school to eventually take on their family business.

He loved his family of course, and they loved him but being with the guys felt like he finally had brothers, annoying and kind of invasive, but brothers nonetheless.

“Okay enough screwing around, seriously.” Mark calls for the rest of them. The guys make their way to their positions, Jeno was about to set his phone down when he spots your message.

Princess: You busy tonight?

You had set your own nickname on his phone when you found out he had you as FN/LN, it stuck around since then. He smirks, typing in his reply. 

Neno: Why? 

You miss me already?

The chat bubble shows that you’re typing. He smiles to himself, awaiting your reply.

Princess: And other things…

I'm free at ten, you have a key.

He’s about to reply when Jaemin pops up from behind him, startling him into shutting his phone off. “Who are you texting?”

“Family.”

Jaemin scoffs, clearly not buying the excuse but choosing to ignore it. “Alright Vin Diesel.” He takes a few steps away, not before raising a brow like he was onto Jeno.

With what little time left before they start warming up Jeno sends a quick thumbs up, hoping that gets the message across clear enough. He can’t say he regrets any of the decisions made in the past few weeks, and if he could make an educated guess based off of how often you ran towards your laptop to write things down after sex, he was sure you felt the same.

He wouldn’t admit it to the guys, mostly because whatever he was up to wasn’t really their business, but also because he liked the sneaky vibe the two of you had going on. It wouldn’t last forever, that’s for sure. But could you blame him for not wanting his friends to ask question after question about you? 

If anything he was doing you two a favor, the guys would probably jump you with questions about Jeno that they would never be able to squeeze out of him. There was also the fear that if any of the guys started to catch on then he’d have to explain himself. They had already had a habit of teasing him whenever he mentioned spending nights at your place, even before this arrangement began.

Especially Jaemin who was always the hopeless romantic, reading into things too much. He always bugged Jeno with questions about you, ones like how nice you complimented each other, and how cute the babies would be if you wanted any. It was a problem that Jeno easily solved by setting boundaries, sure, yet still left him wary of telling his friend.

Jeno decided that it would be best to keep this from them, at least for as long as he could. It wasn’t so bad though, because on one hand while you got to tell your own friends, he kept it to himself. A secret that he cherished on his own, one that he could smile freely without anyone poking into what deeper meaning could be there.

☆ 📚 ☆

The last thing you expected was for you to be drunk out of your mind on a random Wednesday at six in the afternoon. It came as no shock that the reason came down to one single factor. Yuqi. The girl was known for her spontaneous trips all around the globe, so when she texted you to meet with her since she happened to be in town, you couldn’t decline.

So you had reluctantly canceled the plans from earlier with Jeno, one too many sorry texts and gifs until he finally called you to say it was really okay. Practice had gone on a bit longer than it usually was with their show coming up soon. And before you could offer another apology for not being able to go out and travel with him to see the band, he was already stressing that you need to worry less.

So that’s what you were doing now, relaxing with three empty soju bottles on the table to account for that. Yuqi sitting in front of you, picking at the samgyeopsal that you had eaten way too much of since she’d offered to pay. You couldn’t help the smile on your face, call it a buzzed daze or whatever but you felt good.

“Shuhua tells me you’ve been focused on writing,” Yuqi starts, “Says you’re trying to push yourself to release by the end of the year.”

You hum, batting your lashes to snap out of whatever daydreaming you’d been doing. “I’ve been pouring all of my hard work into it.”

Yuqi giggles, “Yeah, she said you’re not bad at all, just lack sex appeal.”

You gasp, “I’ll have you know that’s not true!”

She laughs louder, instigating just as she always did. “I’m kidding! She did say you were a bit stuck with the smut scenes.”

“Wow and I thought there was a non disclosure for book transcripts.” You joke, shoving a piece of the pork into your mouth. The sweet glaze being the first thing you taste as you bite into the meat, savoring the flavor like it was gourmet. You guessed that came with the buzz.

“Hey she said that I should talk to you about it, that I might offer good advice.”

“Cause you’re a sex fiend?”

She clicks her tongue, “Because I am an editor for one of the most recognized Magazine Journalism organizations in the world!” A few customers who happen to be dining in raise their eyebrows, giving you a look of disdain and annoyance. Yuqi bows her head slightly in apology before coughing and adjusting her volume, “And because I am a sex fiend, yes.”

“No need.” You reply, picking another piece of meat from the stove on the table. Yuqi frowns. To be honest, if she would’ve come around earlier offering you her own hook up stories than you probably would’ve taken that and used it for inspiration, but now you had your own experiences to use. Not that you had told anyone about that as of yet, so of course Yuqi was looking at you like you just turned down a million dollar check.

What Yuqi was offering was like a goldmine to early writers, ones who, like you, struggled with writer's block because of lack of inspiration. The only thing is, there wasn’t much left uninspired to you. Not when for the past few weeks since the first time you and Jeno had sex. If anything, you’d become quite the fiend yourself, texting him almost every day about perhaps trying something new. For research purposes of course.

“No need?” Yuqi spoke up, "Don't tell me you’ve replaced me with someone else. I didn’t even get to tell you about my trip to Thailand!”

She forgot that she did tell you about that trip, right as it was happening. She called you straight from the bedroom of some girl named Minnie that she’d met at a soirée where she downed way too many glasses of champagne to remember how she ended up in a different hotel room.

“Not replace you, just got some first hand experience.” You smile, refusing to meet her eyes as a warm smile makes its way on your face. She gasps loudly, having realized what the implications meant, the scattered people around shaking their heads at her volume.

“You found another fuck buddy?” She lowers her voice, leaning in closer to analyze any answer your body could tell her. Blame it on the alcohol and the dry mouth you get after a few too many shots, but you gulp. Her eyes widened once more. “Oh my god you did! Why wouldn’t you say anything?”

“Must I need to share everything?”

“Y/N,” She deadpans. “That’s like your main characteristic. Chronic oversharer?”

You open your mouth to reply but she cuts you off. “Don’t argue against it, it’s true! The first conversation we had was about how your childhood cat died and inspired you to become a Bartender.”

Rest in Peace Martini.

You shake your head, setting down your glass. “Alright, fine. Yeah I do, but it’s not like you think it is!” Yuqi tilts her head. “I mean that! You know i’m not really one to have a Fuck buddy.”

“Yet you do anyway?”

She was right, and your stubbornness hated that. “Only because it’s not just some rando!” This time, everyone’s eyes landed on you disapprovingly. You winced, quietly apologizing for your volume.

“Which is exactly why you kept it a secret in the first place, and why you refuse to tell me without sounding ominous, and also explains the fact that you look so tense right now because i’m putting all of the pieces together and— oh my god.” Yuqi pauses, “You’re fucking Lee Jeno.”

You almost spat out your drink, “How did you even guess that?”

“I had a hunch,” Her eyes trail down to your exposed shoulder, the sleeve of your shirt tugged lower than it was supposed to be. “Also I've only seen bites like that from one man.”

You weren’t sure if you should be concerned or jealous that she was familiar with his bite marks, not because the two of them had ever messed around but mostly because up until this moment you didn’t know she knew of his bedroom habits. You settled on fear. Yuqi’s guesses were never wrong. It was as scary as it was impressive. 

“Calm down tiger, I only know that because he used to hook up with my college roommate.”

For some strange reason that gives you a bit of relief. “I wasn’t going to say anything.” She stares at you for a bit, contemplating whether or not to argue with you, ultimately deciding not to.

“Fine, don’t say anything, just drink with me.”

You wouldn’t dare decline. Yuqi excuses herself, heading out to the bar to grab a few shots for a quick second. You’re left alone, scrolling through your phone and slowly thinking about Jeno. You think back to what Yuqi had mentioned earlier. Jeno’s fling with her roommate that you weren’t aware about. You can feel it again this time stronger, a pang in your chest that you refused to dwell over. Your attempts at ignoring fall flat because within the next second you slide into your recent chat with him, sending a text before your brain could decide otherwise.

Princess: What are you doing?

A few minutes pass with no reply until the notification comes in. It’s a picture of him in dim lighting, the only light coming in from what you assumed was his pc. He had headphones on, the mic barely covering his mouth. From the angle, you could see a bit of his clothing. A black tank top, that he apparently had multiple different versions of, his muscular arms on display. You bite your lip, saliva gathering in your mouth from how badly you needed that right now. The next message is short and simple.

Neno: On league w hyuck.

You feigned chalance, staring at the picture longer than you should’ve. Your eyes roam around the place, searching for your friend’s whereabouts before you could make a stupid decision. She’s nowhere, which meant one thing. Your finger is over the call button about to click when you hear someone come up, assuming it’s Yuqi you set your phone down. 

“Hey, are you lonely?”

A stranger you hadn’t noticed until now stood in front of you, the man clearly intoxicated with the way his speech was slurred. 

“Ah,” You look around for Yuqi, she’s nowhere in sight. “No not real—“

He doesn’t give any time for you to answer, sliding an empty chair way too close to you. From how close he is you can smell the alcohol off of him, even worse with the way he opens his mouth. “It’s not safe for your friend to just leave a pretty girl like you here.”

Your heartbeat rises, his words coming off way more threatening than friendly. You awkwardly laugh, hoping that you don’t at all look as scared as you feel right now. 

“Seriously, you’re fucking beautiful.” His arm reaches forward, holding onto your arm. “You got a boyfriend?”

“I–“ You stutter. Fuck. This was not at all how you were supposed to sound like. You’d experienced enough cat calls to know that the best choice in this situation is to walk away. For some reason though you couldn’t help but freeze up.

“Then how about you come with me tonight? I could show you a fun time.”

“How about you fuck off instead.” Yuqi appears out of nowhere, a deep frown on her face, the drinks in her hand coming down to slam against the table.

The man scoffs, looking more annoyed than frightened. “I don’t think someone like you should be talking like that.”

“And I don’t think someone in their thirties should have a receding hairline, but clearly I was wrong.”

He sneers, standing up from where he’s seated shortening the distance in between them. “Are you crazy?”

“Are you?” She starts, walking closer to him. In most scenarios you’d find your friend’s confrontational attitude inspiring, but right now all you could think about is just how drunk this man is, and just how many things could go wrong.

“Watch your fucking tone,” He stares down at Yuqi. “Bitch.”

You stand up then, trying to deescalate the situation without any hospital trips tonight. Yuqi opens her mouth about to start arguing back, the other people around doing nothing but sitting down in their seats. “Hey, there’s no need for any of this. I have a boyfriend, so if you don’t mind leaving—”

“What and I’m supposed to believe you?” He turns his attention to you. A group of men get up from their seats, quickly grabbing onto the man who you assume is their friend. They refuse to meet your eyes, instead trying to calm the guy down and take him back to where they were seated. 

“No fuck no I’m not leaving!” The man shoves his friend off of him. “These two bitches think they’re better than me or something.”

You hope he’s too drunk to notice the way you roll your eyes without thinking. As a bartender you’d seen many aggressive drunks, you knew better not to react spontaneously since they’d only take it as a challenge. You tried to keep your composure, instead turning your attention to Yuqi who had at some point during the dispute, grabbed onto her phone. 

You meet eyes with her, mouthing let’s go to her. She nods regretfully, holding back all of her anger on the tip of her tongue. You're about to step around him when he focuses on you. He grabs onto your wrist, “The fuck do you think you’re going?”

You pull your arm away, his grip not tight enough to scare you off. Okay, now you were seriously getting pissed off. “Dont fucking touch me.”

He lets out a deep chuckle, “Why? You seemed like that's all you wanted earlier.” 

Call it liquid courage but you felt a sudden surge of anger. All you wanted was good food, fun with a friend, and maybe a booty call at the end of the night not whatever bullshit this guy was on. You were off the clock for fuck’s sake. 

You're not even sure when it happens, just the direct aftermath. The man’s on the floor, blood dripping from his nose as you hold onto your hand. Your knuckles red from the contact to his face, more than likely going to leave a bruise. Yuqi’s eyes are wide, and you can tell she’s trying with all of her power to hold back laughing. 

The sorry guy is still on the floor, holding his nose and freaking out about the blood as his friends try to stop the bleeding and calm him down. You take that as a sign to leave, smiling and nodding at the crowd who are staring jaws slacked. Yuqi throws a quick few bills on the table before grabbing onto your non injured hand and dragging you outside of the restaurant. 

There she finally lets her expression change, her laughs filling the silent outside air. “Oh my fuck—“ She tries to catch her breath. “What the fuck when did you learn to punch like that?”

“I’m a girl who works as a bartender, it’s a safety measure.” You shrug, prompting her to laugh more. You fall into a fit of your own, her contagious cackling promoting you to join. The roads are hardly busy at all, a comforting fact to you when the two of you probably looked insane right now. 

She finally steadies her breaths, at the same time a car approaches the side of the road. One that you recognized as Jeno’s. He parks it, stepping outside of the vehicle and directly to the two of you. You suck in a breath, his hands coming to your face as he looks into your eyes with worry.

“What happened? Are you okay?” You open your mouth to respond when he cuts you off. His hand grabbing onto your tender one, the colors barely visible from where the bruises were forming. “Youre hurt.”

“You should’ve seen the other guy!” Yuqi jokes. 

Jeno’s eyes darkened. “Where the fuck is he.”

“Neno it’s fine he was just some drunk,” You smile tightly, hoping it’s enough to keep him from doing anything stupid. It’s not.

“It’s not fine. I could hear him through the phone and drunk or not he shouldn’t be talking to anyone like that.”

You couldn’t lie, the way Jeno was acting right now was kind of sexy but this was not what you wanted right now. The situation had been dealt with. You were pretty sure with a punch of that strength you’d at least broken his nose.

“Jeno,” You slide your fingers into his hand, the act more intimate than you realized. He seems caught off guard, closing his own fingers around yours lightly so as to not hurt you more. “I promise, I’m okay.” He sighs, his jaw clenched with everything he’s holding back right now. 

“Well,” Yuqi starts. “There’s an obvious connection going on right now.”

You both turn to face the brunette, her smile teasing with a flicker of amusement in her eye. You guessed this was probably the most fun she's had in a while. You expect him to pull away, closing your eyes to brace yourself from the embarrassment. The moment never happens, his hand refusing to let go of you even as he turns to face your friend.

Jeno huffs out a short chuckle, “Hi Yuqi.”

“Hey Jeno! It’s been quite the while.” She looks behind the two of you to a car that pulls onto the side of the road behind Jeno’s. “I wish we could chat longer but unfortunately I do have a flight to catch so..”

“You said you’re staying for a week?”

“Ah,” Yuqi gulps, caught in the lie. “Right well I should start packing early. It was nice seeing you two though, goodbye!”

She's gone the next second, sneaking around the two of you to get into the car. You smile amused by her antics. Jeno doesn’t let go, instead leading you with him towards the car. You follow behind, nothing but the sound of the engine from Yuqi’s mysterious ride fading into the night. He opens the door for you, letting you in and shutting it as he makes his way over to the drivers side.

The ride is full of silence, the traffic lights illuminating Jeno’s face to help you decipher his current mood. He’s unreadable to most, especially when he’s upset. But not to you. Never to you. You knew him like the back of your hand. 

You try and come up with something to say when your phone lights up. 

Yuqi: Oh he’s down baddddd. He called me to go check on you didnt even say hi just said go check on y/n then said he was on his way and hung up. 

I thought it might be best if you wanted to see him so I got a ride lol :P 

Text me when you get home tho!

Unless you’re too busy getting busy iykwim ;))))

You shoot out a quick reply, closing the app to open your recent calls. Jeno was at the top of the recents page. You must’ve called him accidentally when that man snuck up to you, no wonder he mentioned hearing the conversation.

That made things much more awkward for you. For one, you had been the one to cancel plans on him. Then after a few drinks you called him, ruining his game because you couldn’t simply get the stranger to fuck off. That must’ve been why he was silent. He was mad at you. The furrow in his brows gave away that much.

“I’m sorry,” you start, “for ruining your night.”

He keeps his eyes on the road, his eyes only barely meeting yours as he continues to drive. “Is that what you think?”

“Isn’t it? I didn’t even mean to call you. I was going to handle it myself.”

He takes a deep breath, “Stop, that's not it.”

“Then what is it? Are you mad you didn’t get to hit him first? Is this like a weird Alpha Male dominance thing?” He chuckles and for some reason that makes you more frustrated. “I’m serious, Jeno. Why are you mad?”

“I’m not mad,” he pauses,  “Well not in the way you think.”

You lour, “What kind of response is that? Is this some kind of puzzle to solve? Oh great mysterious Jeno, please allow me to discover the truths of why you're angry!”

“I’m not mad,” He stops at a red light, head turning to look at you directly, your own eyes meeting him with slight annoyance. “I-“ He starts again, turning back to the road. “I’m upset. I wish I was there with you and that you wouldn’t have to deal with those poor excuses for men. And it's not that I don’t think you can handle things on your own, it's just that I wish you wouldn’t have to. Call it my ego but I want to be there to prevent shit like that.”

You blush, remorseful for your tone seconds prior. You were jumping to conclusions quite a bit. No, a lot a bit. Jeno wasn’t the type to want to admit how he felt, so you knew it did take him more courage than the average person to open up.

If his pride was hurt doing so then you thought the best option would be to hurt your own back. “If it helps, I was upset at you earlier too.” You can see his brow raise slightly. “I texted you mostly cause Yuqi mentioned you used to hook up with her roommate. If it’s like an ego thing, I guess technically I’m the same.”

“Miyeon?”

You wince at the name. “Sure.”

You weren’t aware of when the two of you made it to your apartment, just that suddenly you were in the familiar dark garage, cars parked all around the grey space. He turned the key, his car turning off as the two of you stayed quiet.

“Miyeon was just a fling, I didn’t tell you because it was over as quickly as it began.”

You refuse to move a muscle. You couldn’t explain why the thought still bugged you but it did. “Okay.” You say, and you're reaching for your seat belt when his hand stops you.

“I’m serious, there’s nothing you need to worry about.”

You knew that was true. The two had probably gone about their life without acknowledging each other. Jeno probably even lost track of her within the list of girls he’d already been with. For some reason the thought bugs you.

You shake it off, “I know, Neno. It’s okay, it was just a lapse in judgment.”

He nods, refusing to look away from you. You're not sure when he removed his own seat belt but he did, because suddenly his hands moved to remove your own. Your heart was pounding, his breath featherlight against you, raising the hairs on your arms.

He pulls away slightly, looking into your eyes for any words you left unspoken, all of which he’d taken right from your mouth. Speaking of, you couldn’t help but look at his lips, the overwhelming urge to pull him closer taking over your entire being. He must get the memo, because with his next move he’s cupping your face and kissing you.

The kiss is not at all like the ones you’d had before. Where those before were pure adrenaline, his lips met yours with an apology. Slow and gentle. His tongue grazed your bottom lip like he couldn’t get enough of you. And when you were about to deepen the kiss, he pulled away.

“Goodnight, Princess.”

You felt like you’d been slapped in the face. Was he insane? You snapped out of whatever daze you’d been in, facing him. He was already turning the car back on.

Wow so he really is insane.

You scoff, about to get up and out of this car and block him on every app to ever exist when you stop yourself. You bring your legs up onto the seat, hooking your hand under his seat to slide it further away from the wheel. 

“What are you doing?”

You ignore him, and once there’s enough space between you move over, hopping onto his lap. His hands hold your waist on instinct. “It’s bad manners to leave a girl hanging after kissing her like that.”

He smiles mockingly, “Like what?”

You bring your hand up, mimicking the way he held onto you. “Like it hurt you to pull away.”

“Maybe it did,” He whispers, one more word and his lips would be touching yours. You aren’t sure who made the move, just that all of a sudden you were both on each other once again, this time with a sense of urgency.

His hand slid into your shirt, fingers trailing up your spine to push you closer to him. The action only fueled your hunger more, you kissed him harder. It was possessive, like you wanted to leave a mark on him, one that told him that for now he was yours. You rolled your hips once, the two of you sucking in a breath in sync at the feeling.

He pulled away, his chest heaving. “We shouldn’t be doing this here.” You knew him well enough now to know he was trying desperately to come up with an excuse. Why he was, you weren’t sure.

“Why not?” You ask, taking a moment to give him time to think. He didn’t answer. Feigning innocence you grinded your hips down once again. His jaw clenched, a tell sign that he was holding back, redness creeping up his face. “Nobody’s around.”

“I don’t have condoms in here.”

You shrug, condoms were the last of your worries right now. “I don’t mind it as long as you don’t.”

His gaze darkens, a smile creeping onto his face. “Is that what you want?”

More like what you needed. If he didn’t dick you down right at this moment you would probably just end up getting yourself off then going to bed frustrated. There really was no comparing your own smaller fingers to his thick ones, and even your pussy was starting to tell the difference.

You nod and that’s enough for him to curse a fuck it and bring his mouth to yours. This time it was all teeth and tongue. Nothing but pure fervency to consume every part of each other. You let out a gasp as he slips his fingers under your skirt, dragging them against the damp fabric.

“You’re so wet baby,” He pulls away, whispering against your sensitive neck. “Is this all for me?” You nod, wishing for nothing more but him to fill you up already. He clicks his tongue, “Come on Princess we’ve talked about this before, use your words.”

“Yes, since you sent that picture of you.” You ramble. You think it would probably be best if you were shot dead at the moment. What was that one animal that gets so embarrassed that it just dies on the spot called?

He chuckles, finding your confession flattering. “Then I shouldn’t tease you any longer.” He says before sliding your panties to the side and shoving two long fingers in you at once. The squeeze is tight, but in all of the right ways. You whine, grinding down on them to feel them hit deeper.

“Fuck,” He says, fixated on the way you squeeze around his digits. “Use my fingers to get yourself off.” You waste no time listening, riding them slowly as he watches. You’re biting onto your lip, holding back sounds as much as possible because technically you both were still in a public area, as silent as it was.

He kisses you, swallowing every single one of your sounds. Your brain feels like it’s working overtime, hyperaware of every action. You feel him slide another finger in, curling them against you barely grazing your g-spot. You bite down against his lip, offering a poor apology as he hisses, your orgasm approaching rapidly.

Jeno doesn’t reply, instead he uses his mouth to trail against your neck making sure to leave bruises around the sensitive skin. You’ve given up on holding back any sounds, your moans building up just as your climax is, and right as you’re about to finish Jeno bites down on your skin. You cry out loud, the pain and pleasure meshing into one, a tear sliding down your cheek.

He pulls his fingers out, a whine falling from your mouth from the loss. “Color?” He asks, his pupils dilated as you look at him.

“Green.”

“Good, I knew you could take it.” He slides the waistband of his sweatpants down, pumping his cock twice.

“You didn't wear anything under?”

He shakes his head, “Had to hold myself back from fucking you the second you started grinding against me.”

You laugh, “You should’ve just done it.”

“Stay quiet and I will.” 

“Okay,” You take the challenge, sliding your panties down your thighs and hovering over his dick. You don't give him any time, sinking down on him in one full go. You bite down on your lip to keep yourself from groaning. He’s breathing heavily holding back his own sounds. “That goes for you too.”

His arms come up to guide you, helping lift until it’s only the tip before sinking down again. Nothing but heavy gasps of air and low curses slipping from you both. There was nothing like a fun challenge, trying your hardest to hold back your moans while simultaneously trying to get the other to slip up.

As he continues to pound into you, you try your hardest to keep your eyes open, the slight sting of the mascara in your eyes from your earlier tears. You made a note to buy yourself a sex proof one soon. Jeno’s trying his hardest to stay composed, but you can tell how good he feels with the way his fingers dig into your skin.

“Fuck.” He gives in, lifting you fully on his own and setting a harsher pace. You can feel him hit directly against you. You gasp, using your hand to cover your mouth and try to keep silent. It’s no use, from the angle you feel him even deeper, moans coming out of you as the pressure in your stomach signals your release.

“Neno– mmh. fuck—“

You shout, louder than you meant to, your legs aching with how much they were being put to use. You swear you notice a twinge of mischief in his eyes. The next second he’s bringing the same hand that was just inside you to your mouth. “Open.”

You do, still managing to taste yourself as he swirls his fingers around your tongue. He pulls them away, a string of saliva breaking away as he uses his thumb to tilt your head down. He traces your bottom lip, slightly bringing you closer. Then when you think he’s going to kiss you senseless again, he spits into your mouth.

“I told you princess, keep it down.” He whispers, thrusting into you with no remorse. You can feel yourself about to come undone.

“Neno I’m gonna—“

“I know baby, me too.” You can hear it in his rough voice. “Cum with me.”

With one last thrust you’re orgasm hits you, fast and heavy. He curses, filling you up with his seed. You whine, it’s the first you’d ever let a man finish inside you and damn had you been missing out. Any attempt of speaking is cut short, you’re brain is too fucked out to process anything. Instead you fall forward, curling into his neck that’s damp with sweat that is a little gross but mostly comforting.

“You smell familiar.”

He laughs, his hand scratching your scalp, you hum. “It’s your shampoo.”

“I fucking knew it.” You pout, not daring to move from his hold. The two of you stay that way. Curled up against one another in complete silence. You’re fighting your sleep, you had been the second he started scratching you. His low breathing isn’t helping either.

“We can’t stay like this forever,” His whispers, yet makes no choice to move. And even though you knew what he meant, your mind couldn’t help but picture different scenarios.

Was that what he would tell his other hookups? 

Did he warn them before they became too attached?

You shove the idea down, refusing to think it over. He was oblivious to your sudden concerns with your face hidden away from him. You suck in a breath, the light lavender scent of your shampoo hitting your nose with an underlying musk from Jeno himself. You should say something. It wasn’t abnormal to be curious about his past arrangements. You open your mouth, closing it just as quickly. 

“I know.” You say instead and you swear you can hear his heart pound a bit faster when you do, but just as you shoved down your own thoughts earlier, you do the same now.

 ☆ 🎸☆

For a long time there was nothing Jeno loved more than performing on stage.

He was destined to make music. He knew it from a young age. Cemented by his aunt who had gifted him a drum set as a kid. His mom had only further encouraged him, he was the one to take on her love for music, even if it was through a different instrument or way of expressing.

During every stage his heart was pounding with adrenaline, never becoming exhausted and instead waiting for his next cue. It fueled him, every slam of his drumsticks, the vibration felt throughout his entire body, and of course as he grew older he only became more confident in his abilities. He felt it every time he was on stage, a smile growing on his face as each song came.

The growing fan base wasn’t something he ever prioritized. He didn’t make music to become famous and make money, hell he was the son of some of the most known and respected people in their fields. You would make jokes about his nepotism, and maybe if the guys had any clue who he was before he joined then that would’ve been the case, but none of it mattered anyway.

Now suddenly, he wanted to show them the best of him. That meant being himself at his core, and what better way was there to show that side of him than drumming?

Oblivion were finishing up their last song, the sound of the fans screaming crescendoed as Donghyuck’s low nasally voice rang out the final verse. Jeno’s heart was going one hundred miles a minute, pure ecstasy flowing through his body. Then within a half second, he blinked and suddenly his smile had nothing to do with the crowd and the energy they had been radiating all night that directly translated into his performance. No, this time he pictured you, in all of your glory. 

The song came to an end. The crowd made sure to be the loudest they were the whole night, one particular high pitched squeal pulling him from his own thoughts. He rolled his eyes at Jaemin who was winking at a fan that resulted in another scream. He dragged him off of the stage, following the rest of the group as they walked back to their shared waiting room.

“Great show out there,” Darling cheered, specifically running into Jisung’s arms to give him a quick peck. The action made Jeno slightly envious in a way he’d never felt before by the couple’s frequent pda. “I swear there were way more people in attendance than any other show!”

“Thanks Darling,” Jaemin smiles. “You might just be our good luck charm.”

Jisung visibly deflates at the usage of his nickname for his girlfriend, pulling at her waist to keep her close like Jaemin would snatch her at any second. Jaemin was only messing around, he’d confessed to Jeno a few months ago that he loved how Jisung’s face scrunched up when he was annoyed, so he made it a mission to piss him off as much as possible.

“Yeah Jisung is more focused than ever,” Donghyuck smirks, “unless we count the time he was busy getting his dick sucked before we had to go up on stage.”

“That’s not what happened!” The couple shout in unison, matching shades of red in their face. Jeno was sure the group would never let them live that down.

Mark laughs. “Well we should be staying here for one night only, remember not to end up so drunk that you sleep through hotel maintenance pounding on your door so hard they assume you died.” 

“It happened one time.” Donghyuck groans.

“And it won’t happen again, you and Jaemin are sharing a room tonight.”

“What? Hello, way to be a cockblock, Mark. I was planning on going out tonight.” The implication that he was bringing someone back to the hotel was clear.

“Not my problem,” Mark sighs out before turning to Jeno. “You’re staying a few days longer, right?”

“Yeah, I'm gonna spend the weekend with my parents.”

“Nice, have fun.”

“Then what about you, Mark? You just got a room to yourself?” Donghyuck pouts.

“Yep,” Mark answers honestly, "gives me time away from you guys.” 

Darling laughs, "Don't worry, the nahyuck fans will love it.”

“What the fuck is that?”

“Aww,” Jaemin coos, his arm wrapping around Donghyuck’s shoulder, “We have our own ship name!”

Donghyuck looks like the revelation is causing him physical distress. Jeno takes that as a cue to leave before the two start fighting because once they started it was hard to stop them.

“Youre not going out with us at least?” Jisung asks, his fingers intertwined with his girlfriend's, a soft smile on his face that Jeno never saw from him until the two of them reconnected. He was happy for his friend, he always did wish the best for them all, and for people like Jisung and even Jaemin, he knew as much as they contradicted it with their past or current actions. They wanted love most of all. So seeing Jisung as he was now, so open and honest with his feelings was relieving for the most part. Though on one hand it did open a can of worms he was actively avoiding paying any mind to.

He could tell the guys were growing a bit curious. He wasn’t spending much time at the apartment, opting to spend the night at yours instead. A privilege you weren’t aware of that none of his past hookups ever got. Once again, a can of worms he really didn’t want to open. 

“Nah not tonight.”

Jisung raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t ask anything. With that, Jeno’s saying a quick goodbye, making his way out of the door as Donghyuck and Jaemin start one of their petty arguments.

Jeno had to give his parents credit, as much as his parents were busy, they always made sure to provide their children with only the best of the best. That included hiring Miss Kim, their personal chef, to make the best meals for their children.

He sat at the kitchen table, plates of breakfast being served as his Mom read the morning newspaper, his father sitting next to her and feeding her some of the washed grapes that Miss Kim had brought earlier. Jeno felt a twinge in his chest at the sight, covering it up with a quick cough as if anyone around would notice it.

“Is Seulgi here yet?”

His mom sets the paper down, “She’s late, overslept after a late engagement party her friend, what's her name?”

“Joy.” His father answers, feeding her another grape.

“Right. I think She's set to be one of her bridesmaids.”

Jeno nods. Miss Kim is setting his plate down in front of him, he mouths a thank you receiving a quick smile and bow before Miss Kim heads back to the kitchen.

“Speaking of which,” Mrs Lee sits up, eyeing Jeno with a mischievous expression as he digs his spoon into the side bowl of rice. “You aren’t coming alone, right?”

Jeno smiles smug, “Are you implying I bring back Jaemin?”

Jeno had invited Jaemin to a family gathering of his about two years ago. His mother was not immune to his charms, taking a liking to his carefree and confident way of speaking. She was adamant on setting him up with Seulgi until she had came out. And even though both parents were very supportive, Jeno had a feeling that his mother hadn’t yet given up on her dream of having Jaemin as a son in law. Though her target had shifted to Jeno.

“No actually, though im not opposed to inviting him. I’ve already told your cousin all about him.” That explained the consistent texts from her. “I just think it would be nice if you brought someone back home with you. Show her around a bit. How about that friend of yours you mentioned? Y/N is it?”

He almost spat out his food, choking it down instead to which his father passed him his handkerchief. He grabbed onto it, coughing until they finally died down.

“I’m not too sure ive mentioned her before,” He finally answers.

“Oh if not you then, perhaps Seulgi?”

Jeno has to hold back from groaning. There was a time where he and his sister went out for drinks, she had introduced herself to you and the night ended with you and her exchanging numbers. Clearly he wasnt aware that you both had stayed in contact since then, he’d definitely be asking you about that soon. “Yes, perhaps.”

“She told us about her, mentioned shes a very sweet girl.” His mom’s smile widens. “I’d like to meet her.”

He hums, praying for any possible distraction to appear. The sounds of rushed footsteps approaching from none other than Seulgi herself. “Sorry I’m late!” She says, taking a seat next to Jeno. “What did I miss?”

“Nothing.” Jeno says at the same time his mother says, “Did you invite Jeno’s friend to your wedding?” 

Seulgi pauses for a moment, “Jaemin?”

“Y/N.”

“Ah,” Seulgi smiles a thank you at Miss Kim who brought her a serving, “I assumed he was going to bring her on his own.”

“Never just assume with a man,” Mrs Lee sighs. “Jeno, I hope you can consider it.”

It’s not that Jeno refused to consider inviting you. It’s just that, his mom could be kind of stubborn. If you were to come by and she grew to like you then she’d automatically assume that you and him were meant to be together. And Jeno had a feeling she would like you, there was nobody in the world who wouldn’t. 

The last thing Jeno wanted was to make you uncomfortable by introducing you to his family, meeting Seulgi was enough, and you end up running away scared. On the other hand, you were someone important to him, so what was the difference of introducing you to his family when he’s introduced Jaemin before.

“I’ll talk to her about it,” Jeno says finally. His mom, grinning happily, is about to reply when he continues. “But I'm not going to force her. If she doesn’t want to, then she doesn’t have to.”

“Well of course not,” Seulgi punches his shoulder lightly, “We’re not expecting you to kidnap her. Although considering the book drafts she’s shown me, I don’t think she’d mind it.” She jokes. Jeno’s eyes widen, and a part of him is scared that his parents might have heard, but when he turns to see them both in their own world he knows they didn’t.

Then again, there’s that familiar sting of envy. Only this time he can’t blame it on the overdone PDA from Jisung and Darling, now it’s from his own parents. His parents wore their hearts on their sleeve constantly, and never hid their love from anyone. He’d grown used to it years ago, so what changed now?

Something must be severely wrong with me.

☆ 📚 ☆

Things are the worst they could ever be. Okay that was dramatic but it was what you felt like in the moment. For starters you had a suspicious feeling you were growing sick, you sneezed way more than the average amount of times a person sneezes today. Then second of all, you were drawing blanks both literally and physically.

You had been sitting in front of your laptop for what felt like hours, and absolutely nothing would pop up. There was also another issue, one you didn’t want to speak aloud to anyone other than the incognito mode on your safari search. You felt pent up. Something that you didn’t even know could happen with two days of abstinence, but unfortunately it could. 

It was like you were going crazy, you’d lasted years without sex so why did two days suddenly feel like eternity. Your head missed Jeno a lot, but your body did so much more. Especially late at night, like right now that you were in the darkness of your room with only the bedside lamp to illuminate the space around you. You tried to get off, maybe that could help with your writer's block in some weird kinky way. It was no use.

Not even scrolling Twitter videos could save you. You tried to sleep it off, perhaps a break would help. But the longer you laid down in complete darkness the more insatiable you became.

And then there was the bright idea. Jeno was a night owl, perhaps he was awake right now? You blushed in the dark room, there was no way you were even considering sexting him while he was spending quality family time. No you couldn’t stoop so low.

You flopped onto your right side, squeezing your eyes shut to clear your mind. Only instead your mind began playing tricks on you, images of Jeno’s body flashing through your mind like they were stored in a hard drive from your brain. You visualized the curve of his muscles, the definition and ridges of his back muscles that you hooked your nails into when he drilled into you so—

Oh gosh. You were seriously thinking about Jeno like that right now. This couldn’t be right, right? Your body seemed to think differently, with the way you felt your panties begin to dampen from your arousal.

You took a deep breath, snatching your phone from the charging cable on your desk and opening your message tab with Jeno.

Princess: Are you awake?

His typing pops up faster than you’d expected. You were hoping that he wouldn’t reply, then you could call it a night and pretend this never happened.

Neno: Yeah. Can’t sleep?

Princess: Not really…

You’re about to chicken out, your finger hovers over the do not disturb button when your familiar ringtone, one of Oblivion's earliest songs, blasts out of your phone. You jump, sliding the answer button.

“Hello?” Your voice comes out way more weak than you intended, and mentally you’re beating yourself up about it.

“Hey,” His voice hits you like a truck. The deep timbre sliding down your spine in a way that makes your body react on its own, goosebumps raising on your skin. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing I–“ Just miss you. It’s funny how now the tables have turned. “Can’t sleep.”

He hums, and you can hear him shifting on the other side, perhaps trying to get comfortable. “Do you want to talk?”

You wanted more than talking but maybe that was being too greedy. “Yeah, tell me about how the show went.”

He pauses for a second, “Went great, fans seemed to enjoy it a lot. Spent the rest of the day with my family.”

“Oh,” You forgot that he mentioned a breakfast date with his family. Your family was far too busy for those kinds of gatherings so it was a bit surprising but sweet. “How was that?”

“Not bad, it was nice seeing them with how long it’s been.”

“Can you tell me more?”

He chuckles, “Like what?”

“Anything. What about that game you play, how's that going?”

There’s another pause, and for a moment you feel like you’ve been caught. “Princess.”

The nickname goes straight to your core, your thighs pushing together on instinct. “Yeah?” You reply, voice weaker than you meant it to come out.

“Why are you awake right now?”

“I- I told you. I couldn’t sleep.”

“Right,” He pauses again, and you missed the way his voice deepened. “How can I help you with that baby?”

You suck in a breath, a curse slipping from your lips. You swear you can hear him smile through the phone. “Come on, tell me what you need.” 

“I need you.”

You can hear him move around again, your chest tightening with how honest you were. You meant it in more ways than one, but there was no time to dwell on it now.

“Why don’t you let me hear how true that is?” 

“Like right now?” You squeak out, suddenly embarrassed.

He chuckles, “Or is that not why you called me?”

“I don’t know what you mean—“ “Princess. Never in a million years have you asked me about my games.”

“What if I wanted to change that?”

“You’re stalling.” He states, “If you’re shy you don’t have to be, your voice alone made me crazy the second you picked up.”

His honesty scares you a bit, but it also gives you room to relax. “Do I have that effect on you?”

“More than one.” You take a shallow breath, and he definitely notices it. “Are you gonna be a good girl and spread your legs for me?”

There’d be no way for him to know if you were really following his instructions, but with how needy you were you made sure to do it anyway. Sliding your fingers past your bellybutton and tracing the light fabric.

“Tell me, just how wet are you for me?”

“Fuck–“ You clench around nothing. “Since earlier. I couldn’t sleep without thinking of you.”

“Is that why you texted? Were you just waiting for me to call you to use my voice and get yourself off?”

“N-no I didn’t know you’d call.”

He hums mockingly, “Really? Then what were you going to do? Give up and wait for me to get back home to fuck you? His words were harsh. For some reason it was working for you, a wave of want rushing through your veins. “Or maybe, you were going to go out and find someone else to do the job?

“No Neno I wouldn’t,” You plead, “I only want you.”

“Fuck,” He whispers Beasley audible through how fast your heart was beating. “Then use my voice, and I’ll make sure to fuck you good tomorrow as an apology.”

You take that as a promise, your hand slipping down into your panties, fingers gliding across the folds of your wet cunt. You gasp, “Fuck Neno I’m so wet.”

“Yeah baby?” He grunts, and the familiar sound only drives you crazier. “Go ahead, slide a finger in.” 

You do as he commands, your pussy squeezing around the digit. Only there’s no relief, you were used to Jeno’s long thick fingers, yours were nothing in comparison. “It's not enough.” You cry, desperately wishing he was there.

“Shh,” he coos you. “It’s okay baby, come on just imagine it’s me.”

You slid another finger in, it wasn't long enough, but it would have to do for now. You rocked your hips, slowly fucking yourself with your fingers, your panties pushed to the side as the wet squelches filled the room.

“Fuck I can picture how tight you are,” he groans through the phone and youre barely registering now just how quiet he’s trying to make his own voice. “Youre taking my fingers so well huh?”

“Fuck Neno please.” You whine, scissoring yourself to fit another finger in.

For a moment all that can be heard is the heavy breathing through the phone. The two of you are trying to keep as quiet as possible. You register it then, the wet slide of him on the other side. You’re not sure how you missed it. He was jacking himself off as you got off to his voice.

“Neno.” You call out his name.

“Yes, princess?” He stutters through the line. 

“I’m ready for you now.” 

He laughs at being caught. “Yeah? You gonna be able to take it?”

You nod like he could see you, “just please fuck me already.”

“Alright then,” he plays along. “Spread your legs for me more baby.” 

Your eyes are shut, visualizing him over you, his hand gripping your leg harsh to keep them from shutting. You slide a third finger into your cunt, it wasn't close to his girth but it would have to do at the moment. You clenched around them, imagining your fingers were his cock instead, filling you up so good. “Neno–ngh fuck youre so big.”

“You can fit me baby, you know why?” His voice is low. “cause that pretty pussy of yours was made for me.” 

You moan, setting a strict pace to match his own through the phone. The light sounds of his breathing getting heavier with every thrust of his hand. You could imagine him now, he’d probably be biting his lips to hold back his noises, trying to keep quiet from his family who were only a few rooms over. Your stomach tightens, your release approaching quicker than it would when it was just you to get yourself off.

“I’m close.”

“Me too,” He replies. “You gonna let me cum inside you again? Fill up your needy cunt?”

“Fuck yes Neno—” You scream out, your orgasm washing over you in the next second. Your fingers are cramping up, continuously thrusting inside you to help milk out your orgasm. 

He grunts a bit louder, calling out your name from what you can assume is from him reaching his own climax. You keep your phone close to you, your breaths evening out. Your legs felt like jelly, the energy you’d had before dissipating. The tiredness from the time being four in the morning finally hitting you.

“Baby?” Jeno called out. You hummed low, using what was left of your energy to do so. He chuckles through the line, having realized that you were seconds away from knocking out. “I’ll see you tomorrow, princess.”

You don’t even remember if you answered or not, only that the call ended. Your breaths fall into an even rhythm as you drift off to sleep.

Part three:

Do I wanna know?

☆ 🎸☆

Call Jeno what he was. A simp, a manwhore, a little bitch. That one was specifically from an angry Donghyuck whom he had declined going out with for the fifth time in a row to see you today. He’d gotten back from his parents house, and assuming how early he woke up to drive back into town he wasn’t surprised you were still sleeping. You had a habit of a minimum of twelve hours a night and he’d taken up most of those last night at four in the morning.

He blushed slightly at the memory. You hadn’t answered, which would’ve worried anyone in his situation if he didn’t know you well enough to know that you were probably busy writing like your life depended on it after gaining a surge of inspiration.

He gripped onto the plastic bag in hand. He stopped by the convenience store for some of your favorite ramen. Nothing else, truthfully, the pack of condoms had somehow made their own way into his bag. “Y/N!” He opened your front door, being sure to lock it behind him.

The apartment was unusually silent, safe for the meows coming from Meowy who greeted Jeno by rubbing against his feet. He cooed at the cat before making his way over to your kitchen to set the bag on the counter. “I brought you some noodles! Oh and they had a discount on the condoms so I thought why not!”

You didn’t answer. He frowned, looking out at the front door he’d just come from to spot your shoes in their place. You were home, so were you just sleeping in?

He walked over to your bedroom, knocking a few times. A low groan sounding through the door followed by a “Come in.”

He opened the door, the darkness of the room enveloping you as you laid in bed, Your body curled in itself like you’d exhausted all energy for the rest of the year. He frowned, approaching you with soft footsteps. Your eyes met his with a squint.

“Princess?” He called your name, to which he immediately regretted the second your lips started wobbling.

“Neno I’m sorry,” your eyes began to water.

He panics, sitting on the corner of the bed to get closer to you. “Hey, what's wrong?” He feels a slight panic from seeing you like this, it’s not the first time he’d seen you cry but it wasn’t a sight he’d see often.

“I didn’t want to text anyone and I know I said I wanted you bit then I woke up and it was like a crime scene everywhere and I spent the whole morning washing the sheets but then my washer broke so I hand cleaned it all and these cramps are seriously going to kill me—“

“Hey it’s okay,” Jeno cuts you off, his thumb wiping the tear threatening to fall from your eyes. “Tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing,” You reply bashfully, “Ugh I’m so annoying I always get so sad on my period. It’s gross.”

“It’s not gross.” He replies in an instant.

“Youre right it’s just human nature or whatever,” you sigh, wiping at your own eyes and sitting up. He reaches forward, his warm hand wrapping around your waist to stop you. “Hey it’s okay, I can go. Just get some rest.”

You pouted, “But I don’t want you to go.”

He smiled, “Okay, I won’t.”

Jeno wasn't sure how much time had passed like this. Just that as soon as you could you had cuddled into him. Something about his natural body warmth being the perfect temperature to help your cramps, so he held onto you, your breaths eventually evening out into sleep.

He didn’t even bother to grab his phone, instead just staring at you like some creep. He was grateful no one else was there to call him out on it though. After a few minutes, you shifted. Your head peaked up from where it laid flat on his chest.

“Sorry did I trap you?” You mumbled the question, sleep still evident in your voice.

“No, it was pretty comfortable actually. You're like a sloth kind of.”

You rolled your eyes, laying your head down again. “You look like one.”

“Rude, and after I canceled plans with Donghyuck to come see you.” Jeno was only joking, he would’ve declined plans with Donghyuck even if he didn’t come to see you.

“Sorry again,” you whisper. “I didn’t mean to lead you on.”

He scoffs playfully, “Hey I’m your friend before anything else.” He’s not sure why it felt so icky to say it but he continues, “I don’t need sex just to want to see you.”

You blush at his words, hiding your face deeper into his chest. “Yeah well, you're the first guy I’ve ever met like that.”

Jeno wasn't sure of most of your dating history, he wasn't the type to just ask but now he couldn’t help but be a bit curious. “Have you dated men like that?”

“Not dated, I’m not one for a relationship.” He knew that. The two of you had related plenty, but now he was itching to know more about you.

“Is there a reason?”

“No, not particularly at least.” You stir, wrapping his arm around your shoulder as you lay on your back, looking up at the ceiling filled with the tiniest glow in the dark stars that had been there for years. “I mean for some time I did want that, but then I lost my virginity and I guess I realized that love isn’t something that happens in real life.”

There’s not a single ounce of pain in your voice. “I held it off for the longest time, save for love kind of thing. Then in college I ended up sleeping with a crush and really it didn't live up to any expectations. The guy hardly even acknowledged me at all except for my body.”

Jeno scowled, the stupidity of men would be their demise. He could understand why women wanted nothing to do with them, there were plenty of fish in the sea sure, but just how many were the parasitic kind that drained the life out of women.

“It was alright I guess, led me to now. And congrats, you're the only man to actually care enough to make sure I finish.” You joke, though there’s an underlying embarrassment in your voice. One that he catches quickly.

“Do you regret it?” He asks. No malice in his words, just pure curiosity.

You shrug, “I guess I regret that it wasn’t like the books I write. There was no attentiveness, just impulsivity. If I could’ve then I would’ve wanted my first time to be with someone I could fully trust, someone who would treat me carefully knowing it was my first.”

He nods, though you don’t notice it at all. There’s too many things running through his head. You deserved better, even now you deserved the best. He wanted for you to fall in love just like the stories you wrote. The uneasy heartbeats, the anxiousness of not knowing if your feelings were reciprocated, then eventually the love confession that brought on a happy ending.

You deserved it more than anyone in the world.

“But it’s already passed so it’s nothing to dwell on,” You say, sitting up. “Now how about the ramen you brought?”

Jeno knows better than to argue, offering a smile instead.

“Coming right up.”

☆ 📚 ☆

The rest of your week had gone about as well as it could while you were on your period. You of course had to show up to work, despite the cramps and lower back aches, keeping a smile on throughout your shift while experiencing some of the worst discomfort ever.

The only way you survived was because of the pain killers Yuqi had given you and the take out from the restaurant down the street. Jeno hadn’t stopped by as often as you hoped. He told you that Mark was becoming more strict with practice as the group went viral for the third time in the month. You had seen a couple of videos, more recently one that was a q&a with Jeno. You had already known every answer of his, so anyone who considered themselves Jeno fans could suck it.

Speaking of which, he had also told you to hurry home tonight, which you figured was because he finally had time to visit. Your spirits were lifted now, you only hoped it wasn't so obvious as you left work to head straight home.

You squeaked open the door, expecting Meowy to meet you the way she always did with everyone who’d set foot into the apartment. Instead, you were met with a floor full of rose petals, candles (not real ones of course that was a fire hazard), lining up the hallway into your kitchen that was fully decorated with more roses and dinner plates. Your heart skipped a beat, the thought of an intruder stopping by and setting up all of this as a passing thought until you met eyes with Jeno.

He stood wearing a black buttoned up top tucked into the jeans he had on. It was casual enough that you didn’t feel underdressed, having come home straight from work in jeans and a basic tank top you’d put under your work uniform.

“Hey.” He beamed, the same puppy-like way that you were used to but somehow now made your heart feel like it could burst any second.

You freeze for a moment. “What is all of this?”

“Dinner. Oh don’t worry, this is a recipe my family cook taught me how to make so it should be edible.” He jokes, grabbing onto your hand to lead you to your seat. You sit down, overwhelmed by the burst of emotions flowing through your chest, he sits ahead of you.

“Japchae?” He nods. “I would’ve cooked up something like steak but I thought maybe this was a safe bet.”

You pause for a moment, only this time he must notice the shift in your demeanor. “Are you okay?” He asks, a slight tone of fear in his voice, he must’ve thought you were upset.

“I’m just I don’t understand,” You say finally. “Why all of this for me?”

He doesn’t take a single second to think about it, “Because you deserve it.”

“But I'm not- I've never even had a date treat me like this,” You stammer.

He chuckles a response. “Y/N, because I wanted to. How’s that for a reason?”

You still don’t understand it fully. This was the nicest thing anyone had ever done for you, the previous being your mother who gifted you a custom typewriter for your sixth birthday, only this made zero sense. It wasn’t even your birthday.

There must be a hint of hesitance he picks up on, because in a second his hand is over yours in a comforting gesture. “If it helps, think of this as part of our rules. I’m trying to give you inspiration.”

Right, of course. That made perfect sense, why else would Jeno have gone all of his way to set up such a nice dinner like this. You offer a small smile, nodding as you reach for your chopsticks. “Okay, then let’s not let this go to waste.”

Jeno smiles, relieved.

Dinner went well as soon as the alcohol was brought out. One glass was enough to make your nerves disappear , the conversation between you stirring from small gossip he’d learned from Jaemin’s loud mouth to early memories the two of you remember from the first years of your friendships.

The japchae was more than just great you came to find out. Jeno could seriously have become a world class chef if he didn’t stick to his career now, speaking of which had only become way more demanding than ever. But he was happy, and you were even happier than he was. The man was a once in the lifetime talent, he deserved all of the love and recognition in the world.

“Neno,” you said suddenly. “It’s getting pretty late.”

He hums, “Yeah I’ll clean up and I can g—“

“No!” You scream shutting him up. “Stay. Please.”

He laughs, “Okay princess.”

“I’ll be back, just–” You’re suddenly shy, avoiding any eye contact with him. “I’m going to go clean up a bit, maybe after we can cuddle or something.” You hope he doesn’t make you explain more and just gets the memo. Luckily, he grins knowingly. “I’ll be back!” You shout as you run towards the bathroom.

You were never the shy type, but as you step outside of the shower, you feel an overwhelming amount of anxiousness. You slipped into a loose fitting shirt. One Jeno had left behind. He was lying down in your bed, scrolling on his phone until you entered. Jeno’s eyes turn to you, discarding whatever he’d been watching on his phone and sitting up straight on the edge of your bed.

“You’re wearing my shirt,” he states with an expression that you could only describe as want, though it didn’t feel fitting enough.

“I hope that’s okay,” you answer, approaching him until you’re right where he sits. His hand comes up, brushing your cheek. You shiver despite his hand being warm and inviting.

“You’re breathtaking.”

You blush at the compliment, pulling his hand away from your face to move it to your hips, climbing on top of him swiftly. “Thank you.”

“You don’t have to thank me—“

“Not for that, for everything else.”

“I meant it when I said you deserve it.”

You lean in, his breath catching as your lips connect to his. There’s a subtle desperation in the way he kisses back, where most of your kisses were fervent, this one was full of something more. No fight for dominance but rather a way of expressing your gratitude.

Jeno tugs at his shirt, lifting it off of your body. “Can I?” He asks, earning a nod from you before he’s flipping you onto the mattress. You’re laid completely bare, at least figuratively with the way he’s looking at you, like he’s undressing you with his eyes alone.

You have barely a second to catch your breath, Jeno’s lips trailing over your breasts as he unclasps your bra. You shudder, your chest laid naked as the cool air hits you.

“Fuck– Neno.” You moan as he takes your left breast into his mouth, his tongue flat over the sensitive nub. His hand comes up, palming your right breast, his thumb circling against your nipple.

You’re only growing needier with every second, every lick sending shocks of pleasure throughout your body. He pulls away, and you take the opportunity to pull him in for another kiss, this one heavier than the last. You button his shirt while he’s distracted, pulling it down and discarding it to the floor.

Jeno’s breathless as he pulls away, his eyes full of want. “Can I taste you?”

You nod, and he’s kissing you again. His hand moving to slide your panties off. He reacts in an instant, leaving kisses down your stomach until he’s face to face with your needy cunt.

His breath fanning over your folds, driving you insane with every second he spends refusing to take action. “Please,” you whine. He snaps out of whatever haze he’d been in, his tongue tracing against your folds that leaves you panting.

Your legs fight to close, his hand keeping them stretched open enough for him to continue lapping at your juices in peace. You call his name, moans growing louder as he presses closer against you, his nose pressing against your clit.

Your hands are moving before you can stop them, reaching out to tug on his hair. He moans into your pussy, the sound traveling through you evoking you to moan.

You cry out, twitching around his tongue as he begins to fuck you with the muscle. Your juices mixed with his spit sliding down his chin in a beautiful mess.

His name trails off of your lips like a melody. The sound meshing with the loud squelches of him devouring you. He pulls away, substituting his tongue for his digits.

“Oh my– nghh Neno—“ You can feel tears threatening to spill. The pace of his fingers fucking you rough as he sucks your clit. He continues to fuck his fingers into you, curling them to hit your pleasure point directly. Your legs squeezing around his head as you cum with one last cry of his name.

He laps up your fluids, his nose pressing against your sensitive clit with how messy he is. “Jeno baby, please,” you beg, the overstimulation getting to you. He doesn’t seem to notice, continuing to lick against your folds until you're dragging him to look at you.

His hair is a mess with how much your hands tugged at the strands. He meets your gaze, his lips and chin wet with you, pupils completely dilated. “I’m sorry baby.”

You shake your head, tugging at him to come back up. When he does you’re kissing him, sucking on his tongue to taste more of yourself. He groans into your mouth, pulling away to let out a gasp. “Fuck.”

Your brows furrow, meeting his eyes where he looks down at himself, a small wet patch visible through his pants. He just came untouched from eating you out. A burst of pride shoots through you, drawing you to kiss at him again.

“You’re so fucking hot, can I please take these off of you?” You ask, batting your lashes.

“When you ask like that, who am I to say no?”

You smile, unbuckling his pants and rushing to rip them off of him like the fabric was life threatening. Your hand palms against him, his size growing with the slightest touch of yours.

He’s holding back a groan when you start sucking at his neck, leaving hickeys on display for everyone to see. For everyone to know that he’s yours.

He helps you take off his boxers, another piece of fabric meeting your floor. He's fully erect, the thick muscle hitting against his abdomen with a slap. Your mouth waters at the sight, taking in his size with your eyes and zeroing in on the thick vein that runs along the shaft.

You suck in a breath, envisioning how nice it would be to feel him inside your mouth, his hand forcing your head down until your gagging as he fucks your face. That would have to do another time, for now, you wanted nothing more but to feel him in your guts.

“You like what you see?”

“Corny.” You answer, earning a chuckle from him before he’s pecking your lips again.

“You love me.”

He says it so casually, yet it still makes you feel weak in the knees. “And other things.”

Jeno lines up to your entrance, knocking your breath out of you as he sinks into you. The squeeze is tight, but it’s not unbearable. He’s giving you a few seconds to adjust until you nod at him to continue.

The first thrust is enough to pull a loud moan from your lips, your hands coming around his back to steady yourself. It’s obscene, his hips slapping against your thighs as he drills into you over and over again.

You can already feel pressure start to build up again, your nails digging into his skin drawing a curse from his lips.

“It feels that good, baby?”

“Neno– please please don’t stop—“

“I won't princess.” He says before fucking into you faster, this time his lips swallowing your moans as he kisses you like his life depends on it. Your body feels light, consumed by the feeling of him. You’re crying, you can taste the saltiness of your tears as he kisses you through it.

He must tell you’re close because his hand goes down to rub against your clit, the circular motion sending you close to the edge.

“Come on princess, let go for me baby.”

With those final words you’re clamping down around him, your orgasm flooding down your thighs only producing a wetter sound as he continues to pistol into you. His thrusts grow sloppier until he’s finally reached his own climax. His cum spurting into you, filling you up.

Your words are barely coherent, voice wrecked with all of the screaming you did. You’d have to bake a few apology cookies and offer them to your unlucky neighbors. Jeno kisses around your face, cooing you until your tears stop, his final kiss being one to your lips.

You open your eyes, his own meeting you with what you could only assume was fear, but quickly disappearing just as it happened shifting to one of… you couldn’t tell.

The previous you who had felt bare had nothing on you now. Because even as Jeno pulled out, his cum dripping down into the sheets, you couldn’t help the feeling in your stomach.

Something had changed.

Part Four:

Heart-shaped box

☆ 🎸☆

Jeno was in a funk. Ever since the date he set up he felt insane. Something was different, he knew it deep down. It wasn’t an obvious fact, you had continued to text him like normal, even sending him dress options for the wedding he had sprung onto you so late.

You didn’t mind, casually sending him your finds from shopping trips you went on with Shuhua. He took in a sharp breath every time you sent him a picture, his lungs felt like they would collapse at any moment with how great you looked. Though it was mostly you, even showing up to the wedding with your hand around his arm would provoke that reaction from him.

He imagined it now, you being so close to him as he introduces you to his family. A smile on your face and a light blush because as much as you were a confident speaker you would probably still feel nervous to meet his parents at such an important event.

Jeno got that same weird feeling in his stomach, covering his face so the rest of the guys wouldn’t see.

“Yo are you good” Mark asks, “Your face is all red, you're not sick or anything right?”

“He could be because you can’t help but keep the fucking air conditioner on all through out the night!” Donghyuck argues. Mark rolls his eyes.

“Jeno isn’t sick,” Jaemin moves the back of his hand to check Jeno’s temperature. “Yup not sick.”

“I’m fine guys, really.”

“I don’t think so, you’ve been spacing out a bit lately.” Donghyuck sing songs, “kind of like when Jisung was heartbroken and slumping around like a kicked puppy.”

“I don’t think I was that bad,” jisung replies, earning a “you were” from everyone else.

“Seriously I’m just thinking a lot lately.”

“Wait like really?” That seems to get the group's attention, they get closer, gathering around him like a kettle of vultures.

“You say that like I’m an idiot.”

“An idiot no—“ “debatable.” Donghyuck starts, earning a scowl from Jeno to which he hides behind Mark. “You aren’t one to think about things too much, you're level headed like that.” Jaemin finishes his thought.

“Yeah hyung, so no offense but it’s a once in a lifetime experience to see you act so–“ Jisung contemplates, “so lost.”

Jeno wasn't sure when any of them had caught onto any of that but apparently they did. He really wasn't the type to open up, but there was a time for anything. “Okay yeah, I guess it’s just a lot of changes lately.”

“Go on.”

And so he did. Jeno went on to explain every detail of yours and his arrangement, well the ones that mattered, up until now. The date, the sex, the way he couldn’t help but feel like he was stuck in a Train going down a different path than he ever expected yet he wasn't even mad about it.

“Oh my gosh,” Jaemin squeals. “I knew you were both meant to be!”

“Great going Jeno, I owe him five dollars now I hope you're happy."

“What?” Jeno asks.

“Jaemin did always say he had a gut feeling that you and Y/N would end up together,” Mark agreed. “That bet lasted shorter than expected though.”

“I think you’re confused,” Jeno starts. “It’s not like that. Me and Y/N are just friends with benefits.”

“Right and the benefits include date nights, home cooked meals, and life altering sex after?” Donghyuck taunts. Jisung makes a look of disgust at the last part.

“As much as I don’t think the last part was necessary,” Donghyuck shrugs. “I do agree. That's not at all what friends with benefits do.”

Jeno isn’t sure what to say. Was he at fault for this sudden shift? It felt like he was, but then again you didn’t seem to act like anything was wrong either. Maybe the guys were being dramatic. Jaemin looks at him like he knows what Jeno is trying to do.

“Answer this one thing,” Jaemin starts. “Do you feel your heart beat a little faster around her?”

Jeno nods.

“And when you think about her. What about then?”

Jeno felt the blood creep up his neck. How the hell would Jaemin be able to tell that.

“Think about it Jeno, it shouldn’t be that hard.”

Jeno frowns. Could he be… no. There’s no way. But then he thinks back to you, your contagious laughs and smiles.

Oh.

“What does this mean now?”

“Well you’ve already got the grand gestures down, loverboy.”

“This time, just add the confession.” Jisung adds.

☆ 📚 ☆

Time had gone by quicker than you’d thought. The continuous dress shopping leading up to this exact moment. You had packed up well, joining Jeno in road-tripping to Jeju island. It consisted mainly of sleeping, singing along to music completely off key, and feeding Jeno snacks while he drove.

You hadn’t felt the subtle shift in the area around each other, not when every time you looked away he made sure to keep his eyes on you until he couldn’t.

The wedding was in the afternoon. A ceremony that would end with a sunset. This made for really good inspiration for the third part in your book series, so you made sure to make a mental note of it.

You changed into your dress, hidden in one of the hotel’s rooms as Jeno got ready with the rest of his immediate family. You felt nervous, the outfit fitting way more exposed than you were used to.

“Y/N! Can I come in?”

“Uh, yes!” Seulgi walks in, a bright smile on her face as she does. “I didn’t think you’d have time to stop by and do anything.”

“Yeah well, I promised Jeno I would check in on you,” She gives you a look over, “You look beautiful.”

You blush, “No of course not, you look great.”

“I do, don’t I.” She does a bit of a twirl, the sleek yet elegant white gown hardly moving except for the flared fabric at the bottom.

You’d never imagined a life of marriage for you, but seeing Seulgi look so bright and happy made you second guess. Perhaps there could be someone to change that? Perhaps even–

“Jeno’s waiting outside. I’m going to go set myself up for pictures before the ceremony begins.” She gives you one last nod. “I’m glad you came.”

You offer a smile in return, “Thank you for inviting me.”

You had unfortunately not been able to catch Jeno before the ceremony began, sitting on the outskirts as the family sat front row to Seulgi, as did her wife’s family in the opposite direction. Jeno had made sure that even with the distance, at any opportunity he would look at you.

Goosebumps rising on your body with the way he looked into your eyes so sure. And with every vow spoken, it almost felt like he meant it to you. You had to take a breath the second it ended, being pulled by one of Jeno’s cousins who had claimed you as her new best friend. She dragged you towards the drinks, offering you a glass of champagne that you held onto.

Beyond the live orchestra that you were sure you would only live to see once in your lifetime, there was nothing but cheers for the happy couple. You were a bit too invested to have noticed Jeno sneak behind you, his hand tapping on your shoulder.

“I didn’t get the chance to tell you how beautiful you look.” He says, staring at you with a quiet longing you didn't pick up on.

“You can tell me now,” You tease.

He chuckles, his hand hesitating for a moment before it finds its way around your waist, pulling you closer as his lips graze your ear. “Youre the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen.” You don’t even get the chance to reply, the words falling flat on your tongue.

“What an honor it is to meet you.”

You look up to see the same woman who had stood up on stage before, Mrs. Lee. The musical genius in the flesh. Jeno, quickly moving to give the two of you space to talk, though remaining close enough.

You bow quickly, a perfect ninety degrees. “No, it's an honor to meet you. Your work is truly inspiring, I tell Jeno everyday just how lucky he is to have a mother so efficient and hardworking.”

She brightens, “Do you study music as well?”

“No ma’am, unfortunately I’m tone deaf but I appreciate it all the much more.” You reply shyly. “I’m a writer.”

“Ah,” Her smile widens, “That’s beautiful. I am quite fond of authors myself, please do tell me what you happen to write?”

“I’m only now starting, but if all things go to plan I should have my first novel released soon.” You nod, looking at Jeno who hadn’t once let go of his hold on your waist. As if sensing it, his mother turns attention to the area, smirking playfully.

“Well I do wish to own a copy once it does release, and Jeno.” She beckons her son. “Do bring her again more often, I think the two of you make the perfect pair.”

She apologies, stepping back into the celebration. You feel like a weight was lifted off of your chest, somehow wanting nothing more than the woman’s approval.

“Oh my god, I shouldn’t have mentioned that. How do I even talk about my book with her when you inspired half of it.”

Jeno laughs, “I don’t think she minds. She knows more than she lets on, she just likes for people to introduce themselves anyway.”

Your eyes widen, "You're saying she probably has a hundred page long history on my entire existence?”

“A hundred pages sure sounds humble,” he jokes.

“Neno!”

“I know, I'm only joking.” His hand comes up to smooth over your cheek. You can’t help but lean into his hold, breathing in the subtle hint of wood from the cologne he must’ve put on as he got ready. “Can I show you somewhere?”

“That sounds like something a murderer would say,” He sighs and despite your heart thundering you continue. “But yes.”

The first thing you notice is how silent it is besides the waves crashing into the sand. The entire property had been closed off, a subtle flex Jeno hadn’t intended when he told you about the place on the drive over. It was dark despite the fairy lights hanging off the building, the only real lighting coming from the full moon that was cast up above you.

You think of all of the possibilities that could come about in your book. Every piece of inspiration coming from the past few months up until this moment. Only you knew it couldn’t continue this way, not with how risky it became. Not when you realized just by looking at Jeno in his suit, laughing with the rest of his family just how easy it would be to get used to this. To crave more.

“Do you like this place?”

“I love it.” You speak carefully, suddenly overwhelmed with how comfortable the silence was between you two. You're not sure when your chest became so heavy, or when breathing felt like a pierced blade to your chest.

“Princess.” Jeno calls you, and you wish you could answer him but you just can’t. He must’ve repeated himself again, because the next second he’s at your side forcing you to look into his eyes.

And even with the rough lighting and the blurry vision, he still took away every last bit of your sanity. “Baby, what’s wrong?”

You can tell he’s stressed, and you aren’t even sure when you started to cry but here you were with your makeup probably ruined, struggling to catch a breath. When did it become so hard to look at him without feeling like the world was crumbling beneath you? When did his pure existence have such profound meaning to you? No, that you could answer, because even a panic attack couldn’t take away from the fact that you loved Lee Jeno.

“I–“ You try to speak, only embarrassing yourself as you choke up on the words, warm tears spilling down your face.

“Hey, look at me. It’s okay, we’re okay.”

No, everything was not okay. You had fucked up the only rule that really mattered. You had done yourself the worst by falling in love with him.

“Y/N.” He’s clearly worried, though he masks it well enough. You look up at him, “I’m sorry, I made the rules myself and I couldn’t even follow them.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think I– no. I know it now. I’m in love with you.” You close your eyes refusing to look at him. “I didn’t mean to, and I know this is so sudden and you don’t feel the same at all but I just—“

You never get the chance to finish your sentence. His lips come crashing into yours, the same passion from the kiss you’d shared only nights before. He’s pouring every ounce of a love confession to you, hoping it will be enough to clear your mind of any doubts you had that he wasn’t yearning for your love.

He’s the oxygen you need to breathe. That’s your first thought when he pulls away. “I was supposed to be the one to tell you first.” He whispers.

“Then maybe you should’ve said it sooner,” You taunt, his thumb tracing over your tear stained cheeks.

He frowns, “I promise I was going to. It just took me a bit longer to realize.”

You gasp, feigning offense. “Wow, here I am pouring my heart out to you and instead you let me embarrass myself!”

“It’s not embarrassing to see you cry, you’re pretty even when you do.”

You hope it’s dark enough for him not to notice how flustered you are. “Don’t use flattery to get out of this!”

“Oh?” He pokes at your cheek. “But you seem to enjoy it a lot.”

He closes the distance, pecking the corner of your lips that results in a bashful smile from you. “Don’t worry, you have the rest of our lives to get used to my compliments.”

“Is that your way of saying you’re madly in love with me?”

“I think the kiss established that earlier. But yes Y/N, and I’d love for you to be my girlfriend too.”

“Ah,” you contemplate. “What are the benefits?”

“Everything we’ve done the past few months and more, you just got to experience the free trial.”

You shove at him playfully. “Then I gladly accept.” You say, and before he can give a snarky response you’re pulling him closer. Closing the distance between the two of you to share a kiss, this time as lovers.

Epilogue

Scary Love

It was Déjà vu. You sat anxiously in the same office you’d been in before. Only this time, you were confident that Shuhua wouldn’t turn you away, oh and of course the fingers you had been fiddling with happened to be of the man sitting right beside you.

Shuhua sets the papers down, her expression flat.

“So?” You grow more anxious, biting your bottom lip.

“I’ll let the graphic design department begin searching for an artist to go along with your cover art.” Your eyes widen. “It's wonderful.”

You jump up, dragging Jeno up on his own feet to celebrate with a hug. He smiles, not at all minding the fact that you’d just manhandled him.

You turn and face Shuhua then, tears brimming in the corner of your eyes. “Shuhua!”

“Don’t cry you big baby, you were always going to make it, you just needed more time.” She smiles, pulling you in for a short hug. “I’m proud of you y/n.”

“How am I not supposed to cry when you say things like that!”

The two of them laugh at you as you hug Jeno, hiding your face in his shirt. “I told you she’d love it.” Jeno says, patting your back. You look up at him, “It’s really thanks to you.”

He chuckles, “Thanks princess, but I wasn’t the one who wrote it.”

“Ah but you're the one who inspired it all!” You tease him, “Maybe I should add you as a co-writer.”

“Mhmm I’m sure my fans would be taken aback.”

“I don’t think they’d mind. Lee Jeno is known for being multiskilled after all.”

“Don’t you guys have places to be,” Shuhua groans. “I heard you booked a sold out show.”

“Oh right!” You exclaim, “we should really get going, don't want to keep anyone waiting.”

“Right, go on and leave! Take your puppy with you!”

Oblivion had really reached new heights of popularity, they’d been working so hard these past few months working on pushing out a full album that you had almost forgotten how your boyfriend looked. You giggle at the thought, you were Lee Jeno’s girlfriend.

The fans quickly took a liking to you, with how loud and relatable your personality was. They’d even spotted the two of you on a date (if you can call grocery shopping that) not too long ago, asking for a picture with Jeno that you quickly agreed to. Jeno, as humble as ever, had gushed at their compliments. And when the fan suddenly turned to you asking if they could also have a picture, Jeno was way too quick to take fifty of them.

Things were great, even with the busy schedules between the two of you, you made sure to make time to go to his shows.

“Guys, we’re going to need you on stage in the next ten minutes.” Chenle, Oblivion’s new manager, reminded everyone.

“Yes sir!” Mark saluted the man, “You heard him guys, hurry up.”

“I’m going to miss you.” You pout, running your hands over your boyfriend's forearm.

“Don’t be silly, I’m going to be looking right at you.”

“I don’t think the fans will appreciate that.”

“No they will,” Darling adds into your conversation. “They’ll add it to your cutest couple moments compilations.”

“You sound like you know them so well.”

“She has secret chat rooms with them,” Donghyuck squints at darling. “Where else would they have gotten those pictures of me and Jaemin.”

Jaemin wrapped an arm around the tan man. “Nope, all me.”

You laugh at the two of them, Jeno’s arms wrapping around you and he snuggles into your neck. “Do you want to come up on stage later?”

“Neno you know I can’t.”

“You can if it’s an encore,” he sighs. He really does look like such a puppy when he makes those eyes. “Please baby.”

You couldn’t say no to him. “Fine.”

He smiles, pulling you in for a short and sweet kiss that's partially interrupted by Chenle stopping by again to shout, "Five more minutes!”

“You guys are kind of disgusting.” Jisung scowls but from where he has his head laying to rest on darling’s shoulder.

“You say that, but need we remind you of the heinous acts the two of you got up to before our show?” Jeno threatens the couple with a smile on his face.

They match each other’s beet red. The rest of the band turned to laugh at the pair, teasing the couple further. That reminded you.

“Neno,” You ask. “Have you ever considered red hair?”

By the time the last song ended the crowd pushed for more, which meant that you could make do of your promise to your boyfriend. Security allowed for you to pass through and onto the stage, Jeno capturing your entire body the second you got close. “I missed you.”

“I thought you said you’d be looking right at me.”

“Yeah but that only made me miss you more.”

The band, as per fan request, chose to perform their final song again, this time with a twist. Jisung was to take over lead vocals as the rest of them swapped instruments, safe for Jeno who instead had to direct you to play for him.

You sat on his lap, a bright smile on your face that was battling the stage lights. You’d never felt happier, you think, sitting with Jeno. A part of it scared you, not knowing what could come out of this. You hadn’t ever expected to be living as one of your novels, but here was the man in front of you willing to give you your happy ending. Loving you so openly despite his similar fears.

“Here,” he gives you a drum stick. You accept holding onto it as his bigger hand wraps around yours. “Follow my lead.” He brings the stick down, hitting the snare with light force. Not enough to have you jumping off of him but enough for you to squeal in shock. 

His laughs fill your ears despite the heavy music and crowd. And as you turn back barely able to look straight into his eyes, you find him already looking into yours. This time with an expression you find easy to recognize with how much you love him too. 

You realize it then, you’d follow his lead anywhere.

࣪𖤐 the end ── ★ ̟

FINAL NOTES: This one was so much less angsty than the other one and I was scared if that would affect the readers experience but my beta reader said that both stories were on par with one another… Anyway i’m happy to write more of these two in the next part.. Donghyuck biases i hope ur excited!!

The forest sat at the edge of the village like a living painting. Towering lush, emerald trees stretched towards the sky, wildflowers bloomed in bright, verdant colors along the paths filled with vibrant blooms, luring you into the green woodland.

Like a siren’s song to a sailor, the forest called to you.

It was meant to be a short walk, that’s what you kept telling yourself as your feet carried you in deeper and deeper, just a quick look to satisfy the gnawing curiosity in your chest. You followed a narrow path covered in green grass and sunlight, birds singing overhead while flowers brush against your ankles.

You kept walking into the forest— unaware of how long time has passed, minutes turning into hours ‘til you found yourself standing before a dazzling blue lake. The water sparkled like liquid sapphire beneath the sun, crystal-blue ripples danced across its surface, reflecting fragments of light.

Near the outskirts of it, flowers bloomed in abundance with breathtaking colors, surrounded by all kinds of lively fauna and the sight was enchanting, almost magical, then you saw it — a large pair of wings, fairy wings pink and blue in their hues, their edges pointed upwards as they glittered under the fleeting light.

You instantly hid behind a tree bark.

At first, you couldn’t believe your eyes, but then you leaned a bit to the side to see clearly — soft, blonde hair that had been grown to his shoulders, dainty pointed nose and plush rosy lips. He looked unreal, doll-like in his nature, which almost made you think you were dreaming. His back was covered with the beautiful wings you had glimpsed earlier — big in their size, almost covering his entire figure as they glittered and sparkled under the sun.

His voice was sweet and enchanting, singing to the plants he was tending while rabbits and other young animals surrounded him. He looked like a daydream and you were a keen observer.

Your attention, however, was stolen when you heard a twig snap somewhere close, so you knew you had to leave, your feet hurriedly carrying you out of the forest and back home.

That night, you laid in bed restless, wide awake with the scene you saw playing in your head on repeat — it became extremely difficult to move on from the allure you witnessed.

So, when the sun shined and birds chirped again, you went back in the next time.

Same path, same as the last time — you were hiding behind the same tree bark and watching the beautiful man in the forest live; he sung and tended to the plants around him, fed the animals at his feet, gently pet and cared for them.

This slowly became your routine, a guilty pleasure you indulged in — watching the fairy live his life in the forest, his peaceful home as thoughts of him plagued your mind completely until he became all you could think about.

Until one fateful day, everything changed.

The fairy decided to stop pretending he couldn’t sense you, your watchful eyes were a presence he could no longer ignore. So, when you came to the forest at the same time for the nth time so he started to expect you—keeping his back towards you, luring you into a sense of safety.

Today, he decided to turn around and your breath hitched.

“Show yourself, it’s quite rude to stare, you know?” His words flowed palatably, his doe brown eyes gazing into your own, and you felt exposed — no longer hidden behind the bark you sheltered yourself with, yet you remained unmoved. “There you are.”

He stood up, graceful as the fauna surrounding him shifted, and he walked towards you, majestic and breathtaking in his nature. “You’ve been watching me for a while, what are you planning to do, little human?”

Failing to reply, you shifted on your legs, your cheeks bloomed pink at his confrontational words, hot white embarrassment ran through your veins. “I-I don’t — uh, I apologize for intruding,” you paused for a beat, “It’s just… Hmm… You’re beautiful to look at and it became hard to look away.” You were looking down while the truth spilled out of your lips like the water he poured over his crops — over brimming ‘til it flowed down.

He reached out, nimble fingers finding purchase under your chin, compelling you to look up to him with bright, wide eyes.

“Is that so, little human?” Amusement laced with his words, a small smile curved on his lips and he leaned even closer to you, his warm breath fanning against your face,“you’re not a bad sight for my eyes… I’d say the feeling’s mutual.”

His words only caused your ears to flush even more, your throat bobbing as you swallowed nervously, “t-thank you, uhm …?”

“Harua.”

“Thank you, Harua.”

“And you are…?”

In return, you whispered your name to him, and he repeated it. You thought it sounded sweeter from his lips.

“Hmm, then, next time how about you join me instead of hiding like a intruder?”

His fingers released their grip on your chin, his hand extended out for you to take. You didn’t hesitate, letting him lead you to sit by the lake, surrounded by the very view you admired from afar and yet, you thought, he was the most radiant view of them all.

You sat shoulder to shoulder, conversation flowing smoothly as you talked about everything and anything; he told you about his life in the forest, teaching you the names of the animals he cared for, showed you around his garden and all the crops he was tending to. In exchange, you told him about your life in the village, your home, family and all interesting things you could think of.

Before you knew it, the sun was setting and you had to go back.

“Let me escort you back, it’s the least I can do,” he offered, and you couldn’t refuse him, nodding with rosy cheeks and a subtle smile — he took your hand gingerly, his warmth seeping into your skin causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach.

“You didn’t have to but, thank you Harua.” He nodded in reply, only letting go when you reached the entrance to the forest and he was sure you can return to the village safely.

Your relationship with him naturally deepened.

You visited everyday and he sat you down with him to talk to you all about his plants, the animals, things he had been trying and many other topics and you listened like always with a soft smile and big sparkly eyes, in sheer awe of his beauty, as well as his care for his surroundings and his knowledge of the forest.

“How about I teach you something today, little human?” he probed, legs stretched when he stood up, pulling you up with him as well.

“What are you gonna teach me, Rua?” Your brows raised and mouth opened in excitement, grabbing his hand and he smiled sweetly.

Harua rested his hand on the small of your back, leading you towards his garden. “Your lesson for today is how to harvest fruits properly.”

You found yourself standing before the berry bushes, waiting for Harua to get his tools and come back to teach you when one of his bunnies brushed against your leg—asking for your attention. You crouched to pet the soft fur.

“Ehm. I think that’s enough of petting Robin,” he grumbled, handing you the basket. “Now, pay attention, this is how to harvest berries.”

His hand reached out to tug delicately at the hanging fruit and placing it in the basket once it was off the branch, then looking at you encouragingly to do the same so you followed his lead and successfully got some berries.

“Aren’t I good at this, Rua?”

“I think you might be a natural, little human.” You beamed at his compliment. “Come here, there are a few strawberries hanging, let’s get those.”

He crouched, a pair of garden scissors in hand as he snipped a strawberry from its branch — turning around to place it in the basket before handing you the scissors, so you crouched right next to him, tongue poking out in utter focus snipping the strawberry just like he did.

“Good job, little human. You’re doing so well.” His words send a flutter in your stomach, ears blooming into their familiar pink whenever Harua dotted on you.

“Look, Rua! Isn’t it pretty? It looks so yummy, I wanna taste it so bad ~”

“Not yet, little human. We need to finish harvesting the rest of the fruits then we’ll wash them and enjoy them together, okay?” You pouted at his words, so he pinched your cheeks teasingly.

You hesitantly nodded after a beat, following him around the garden and copying what he told you to do, the basket filling up with various kinds of fruits.

“Rua, what about your citrus tree?”

“What about it?”

“You keep telling me about it, I wanna see if we can harvest some fruits.”

“It’s not ripe yet.”

“Ruaaa~”

“No, little human. You keep asking about it, but it’s a delicate thing, it needs time to bloom,” he huffed, rolling his eyes in faux annoyance.

“Please, I just wanna see and if there’s nothing I’ll drop it!”

He squinted at you, finding difficulty in believing your words especially with such unwavered eagerness so he reluctantly agreed. “Okay, fine… let’s go check on it.”

Squealing excitedly, you followed him ‘til you both were standing right before the citrus tree — a few oranges hanging ripe from its branches.

“See, I told you!”

With the basket placed on the ground, your now free hand reached out to tug on the orange and it easily came off its place — you went up to him with the said fruit in hand, looking up with wide eyes: “Please, Rua, I think it’s ripe enough, I wanna taste …”

The fairy couldn’t deny you, not when you gave him a saccharine smile that made him dizzy.

With gentle hands, he took the fruit from your grasp and started cutting it with a pocket knife, sharp enough to tear you a slice. He handed it to you — hearts practically spilled from the love he held in his gaze, watching you eat the fruit of his labor with a warm smile while his cheek rested on his hand.

“Try it, little human. Tell me is it good?”

You nodded eagerly, swallowing the mouthful of fruit but mouth still full of the sweet sourness.

“Give me a taste,” he mumbled, hands now resting on your cheeks as he pulled you in for a sweet kiss, lips coated with the syrupy juice of the fruit.

You stood there frozen in shock for a few seconds before your body acted on its own — kissing him back feverishly, relishing in the taste of his lips against yours.

“Mmmh, it’s good. I did well,” he said once he broke the kiss, flashing you a cheeky smile. “Don’t you think so, little human?”

“W-what was that, Rua?” Your hand gripping his shoulder for support, shrouded in dizziness after your intense kiss.

“Tasting the fruit of my labor.”

“You kissed me …”

“Yes, I have, little human,” he paused before adding, “you taste delectable, and I’m not just saying that because of the fruit I gave you.”

“Well, what does that mean for us?”

The harvesting basket alongside the cut orange long forgotten, his hands reaching out to cup your cheeks warmly, his brown eyes staring deeply into your own.

“It means I can grow the finest of fruits in my garden.”

“Rua!” you teasingly slapped his chest, your other hand still holding onto him to keep yourself grounded.