☆ note: let's all join hands and say our sacred motto: "if lei proofreads these she will surely die" thank you

“Just like that, yes”, the director called out, flashes and clicks of cameras everywhere around you. “A little bit closer to his - oh my god - so good, yes” The photographer was just shooting shots mindlessly, as he heard the director call out instructions, his voice authoritative and bouncing off every wall in the big space.

Wooyoung was watching you from behind the scenes like usual. Phone dangling from his hand as he scrolled on social media, not particularly paying attention to his best friend and girlfriend on set.

“Okay, now, maybe just seductively pull her panties out and let it snap back”, he called out again, and San did just that. “Amazing, do it a few times again.” He hummed appreciative noises in the back of his throat, eyes shining as he took in your tempting poses.

“Do we have the video cam on? I feel like this would work well on that,” he called out to no one in particular again. Staff came with video cameras now, swarming the scene you and San were creating. “But what would I even do without two such good models?”

The bright lights of the set were melting the minimal makeup you had on, making your face feel sticky and uncomfortable. How could you even feel comfortable? This was hell on earth. the constant clicking of cameras around you, letting them photograph you in underwear, not saving a piece of you that won't be on the internet. But at least it paid well.

The director could've been more subtle in checking you out, especially in front of the guys. If Woo were paying attention, he would've already killed him with his gaze - and San, too, for his hand placement, even though its purely professional.

The frown was begging to break through the masked emotion on your face. Something about this set was way more intimidating and alluring than your normal; maybe it was the sweat running down your side where San has been touching you. The knowledge of other people being in the room while he was doing it so sensually - especially in your boyfriend's presence. Not like he would ever share…

—

Turns out he would.

"You've been practically begging to get our hands on you, doll," Wooyoung whispered in your ear while San worked on your bra's clasp, freeing your tits to the cold changing room's air, making your nipples perk instantly. "You think he didn't smell your arousal from right next to you?" he bit your collarbone, hard, pulling a raw moan from your chest. You felt him smile against your chest before he looked deep in your eyes, "Hell, be grateful if the director didn't get a whiff of it," a chuckle rumbled deep from his ribs.

San's palms danced along your sides, caressing your silky skin, just to wrap them around you and get the branded bra off you. As soon as it left your body, his hands fondled your breasts, moans escaping your mouth at his mere touch.

While that happened, Wooyoung peeled your wet panties back, pulling them to the side to slide a finger through your folds, dipping them knuckle deep into you, only to pull them away just as fast as they came. Everything was happening so fast, the sensations of San's fingers rolling your nipples, Wooyoung sinking to his knees in front of you - it was way too fast, catching you off guard.

But there was no time to stand there and stare at your boyfriend, trying to figure out his intentions, because San got a hold of your chin, forcing you to turn your face to him as he kissed you deeply. His kiss was different from what you were used to. Wooyoung kissed slowly, biting your lips teasingly, and pulling back here and there to put his forehead against yours and smile at you.

San was all teeth and tongue, harshly reminding you of the fact that it wasn't your boyfriend. He kissed with haste, yet deliberately, and unapologetically, almost as if he was trying to say, "turn off your thoughts."

The kiss broke when you pulled away from him, at the feeling of Wooyoung's tongue touching your clit, making your hands grab a handful of his blonde hair, tugging on it like a lifeline. One of San's hands stayed on your chin; it was soft, but demanding. The other joined yours on the blonde's head, guiding his face on your cunt, where he was rougher with his touch.

"Let him make you feel good, huh, princess?" he whispered, lips touching your earlobe, gently nipping at the skin. "You worked so hard today, looking pretty in front of a camera isn't something anyone could do," his chest rumbled against your back as he chuckled mockingly, and pushed his hardness into your ass. "Mmh, and you do it well too, huh?" he tsked, sarcastically puckering his lips, his eyebrows furrowing.

Wooyoung pushed one of your legs into San's hand, opening you up to his mouth for better access, so now he could lick his way from your hole to your clit, drawing a deep moan out of you. "fuuck… Woo, baby, that's so good," you stretched the syllables, throwing your head back onto the other man's shoulder. He moaned into you, the vibrations sending a chill down your spine, arching it against San, whose breath hitched at your ass pushing back into him.

His tongue worked hard on you, switching between licking deep and sensual strokes and slow little nips on your clit. He was looking at you and San from under his lashes, a wicked glint shining in his eyes at both of your heated gazes. He pulled away from your cunt, stopping the stimulation fully. But he didn't bother to stand up before spitting on your mound, letting it run down between your folds.

He looked proud of his work, head tilted playfully, looking deep into your eyes as he leaned forward, resting his forehead against yours, but never really kissing you as you thought he would do so. Instead, his hand left your face, wrapped around the other man's neck, and he kissed him intensely, both of them moaning in the moment of the first touch.

They exchanged your taste in their mouths along with spit, and San's hands wrapped around your hips to easily let him rut his hips into your ass. Wooyoung didn't break from his lips, but let a hand fall from the taller man's neck to dip his fingers back between your folds, stimulating you while they kissed. Little did he know them kissing might've made you more aroused than all of the things they've done to you before.

It was a sight that's for sure, the two most prominent figures in your life - your boyfriend and his best friend - two very attractive people kissing right next to you while they both touched you, whose skin hadn't left yours. Something you will never tell them, but it's been a deep fantasy of yours.

Watching San wander around your and Wooyoung's house like he was at home, sweatpants low on his hips without a shirt on, getting casted to the same photoshoots with Calvin's, Diesel's and Skims' underwear line, letting him touch your body intimately, but just for the sake of pictures, and only professionally because the heat of his gaze always left his eyes when the cameras turned off. He never made a move before today, never let his hands wander on your body, finally letting him get a taste of you.

Your walls tightened around his fingers as he massaged that spongy spot in you. The moan it drew out of you, made them break their kiss and turn their attention back to you. Hungry gazes settle back on your writhing body, which was still held by San, and your hole scissorred open by Wooyoung.

Wooyung's face had a wide smirk on it. He stretched his neck to the side, tilting his head in the process, and fastening the pace of his fingers at the same time. Your moan was ragged, high, hands flying to San's hands on you for a better hold, nails already pushing crescent moons into his tan skin.

"You're taking it so well, m'love." his tone was honey sweet, overly sweet, and that's how you knew he could withdraw the pleasure from you any second now, but first, he would let that knot tighten in your lower abdomen, playing you dirty.

Your whines got closer together, and higher in pitch, and that's when he knew to pull his fingers out of you, robbing you of the feeling of euphoria. "Such a good girl, taking whatever is given to her," San whispered in your ear, his hand wandering for your hip to join Wooyoung's between your legs.

"Sannie," your boyfriend thought out loud, "She's so wet," his lips curled, "She would let you do anything, right baby?" Uncoherent moans and whines came from your mouth, and both men chuckled at your desperation. "So worked up, ready to take cock, hm?" he questioned, as he felt San's fingers start rubbing your clit, in soft circular motions, making your hips chase the stimulation. "Maybe you even want to take two today…" That wonder got both men groaning.

Both of their hands left the place you needed them to touch the most, backing you up against the table in the break room, turning you around and folding you over it in one motion. "Please…" your voice was weak, whiny, ready to voice anything to get one of them inside you.

"What do you need, love?" San asked from behind you, gently pulling your panties down your legs, letting them fall where they may.

"You," a breathy moan left you as his hips ruttend into you. Your wetness unmistakably staining the cotton of his briefs, making his eyes roll back into his head at the feeling of it on his sensitive mushroom tip. Wooyoung settled next to you, resting against the edge of the table, his hand smoothing down your hair, with a lopsided smile on his face.

San, behind you, was pushing his shorts down with a quick movement, pushing his head through your folds with ragged movements, pulling moans out of both your mouths. His head lolled back with the contact, savouring your wetness on him. He was teasing at first, not pushing into you quite yet, but thrust his length forward, letting it glide between your folds all the way to your clit.

His cock felt girthier than your boyfriend's, but sensations were quick to overtake your senses already, eyes closing gradually with each slide of his dick, and mouth opening wider and wider until your chin pushed against the hard surface of the table.

Wooyoung tried to look at both of you, San's pleasure-ridden expression and your falling apart one. His hand travelling to palm his own cock through the rough denim of his pants, trying to relieve his painful arousal.

"Stop teasing her, Sannie, don't be so cruel." Wooyoung chuckled over your whines' rising volume, "let her have it, she was so good…" freeing his own cock as he spoke, extending his hand in front of your head, "Spit in my hand, love."

As your saliva hit his hand, San thrust into you with one quick motion, pushing all air out of your lungs, with a breathy moan, oh, and was he girthier than Wooyoung. "Fuck..." his head was still hanging towards the ceiling, praying to every God not to come as soon as he hits your cervix.

His pace was brutal, punishing even though all you've been is pliant and good in their hands. The table's creaking, wet slaps, and breathy moans bounced off the four walls, making the atmosphere so much more intimate and close.

"You're so tight around me," San grunted from behind you, walls pulsating with every snap of his hips, so devoted to chasing his pleasure, dying to paint your insides, "made for us, right?"

A chuckle escapes from the man next to you, his hand matching the pace San's hips have in you, "such a wonder why we never done this before…" The pleasure was overtaking your senses, eyes rolling back into your head, that specific tightness in your lower stomach becoming more prominent with each time his head pushed against your pulsing spot.

The orgasm had you seeing stars, with the previous teasings, coming hard around his cock with a loud moan, only to Wooyoung slide three fingers into your open mouth, "Baby, you have to be quieter, some staff are still outside," he murmured as he leaned against your ear, his breath hot on your cheeks. "We can't exactly let them know two men are ruining you, can we now?"

You shook your head as best as you could with his fingers stuffing your mouth, trying to escape San's iron-hold on your thighs from the overstimulation. Still, he didn't seem like he was about to stop any time soon, pushing you into another orgasm so quickly after the first. "n-no.. stop, ah- Sannie," body burning in a way it rarely did, muffled moans and words escaping around the fingers in your mouth.

"Can I come inside her?" he tried, calmly talking over your ragged moans, his cock pulsing inside you. Wooyoung couldn't even let a word out before the other man's release painted your insides, mixing with your own, but his cock was still half hard inside you, still pushing his load deeper.

Wooyoung's hands were tugging your head up so his lips could connect with yours in a kiss, letting your body relax in his hold. His hand never stopped on his own cock, it only slowed down its pace, dragging it out as slow and measured as he could. He was moaning inside your mouth, tongue mapping out every part of you.

San slowly slid out of you, as he watched your boyfriend kiss you, a moan escaping both of your mouths, making Wooyoung pull away from you, resting his forehead against yours, "You think you could take both of us, doll?" his thumb played with your lower lip, gently pulling it down and letting it snap back, as a smile played on his lips.

You felt San's gaze on your bare back, even dropping back down to your cunt, where your mixed juices flowed out of you, wetting the inside of your thighs artfully.

You nodded against Wooyoung's head, gulping a bit of spit down your throat, even though your mouth felt so dry. You never took two at the same time before, especially not someone their size. Wooyoung liked to play around in bed with you, sometimes putting his fingers inside you with his cock, stimulating both of you further, stretching you beyond limits.

Maybe he had always been prepping you for this, to take him and his pretty best friend in you at the same time. Let them rub against each other inside your pulsing walls, making you come around them, pushing them over the edge with only a few thrusts.

His hands settled on your waist, pressing a soft kiss on your forehead before guiding you to the couch. He looked at San with a wicked glint in his eyes, before kicking his jeans down, while you tugged the shirt over his head. Then he settled on the couch, hands instantly going back to your hips, tugging you down with him.

"Are you gonna be a good girl and take both of us, baby?" you could only nod at his question, feeling both his tip prodding at your entrance, and San came closer to the couch behind you, stroking his already hardening dick. "I can feel San's come in you," he grunted, looking down where you were about to be connected, before throwing his head back with a groan.

You pushed him down, with a soft shove from your hands, reaching down to line his length up with your entrane before sitting down on it, "better push it right back then." All three of you moaned as you sat down on him, his cock easily gliding through your walls with San's release. If he could also slide in this easily.

Wooyoung's hands found their place on your waist, pulling you up from him, as the couch dipped behind you, and another hand joined your boyfriend's below your ribs. "Are you still sure about this princess?" his voice was husky and low, making the hairs stand on the back of your neck.

"Yes, please, Sannie, put it inside-" you whined breathily, brows furrowing together, just like when you first came, but this time in frustration. Wooyoung was already inside you, but held you so still that no stimulation came from it, and San was just lining up with your entrance, moving so calmly like you had all day. "Please, just put it in, I can't take it any-"

The words died in your mouth as he started pushing in, a hiss came from both men's mouths, eyes closing in the overwhelming pleasure. San was slow with it, not as mean as he was before with his hips, letting all of you get used to the new sensation.

When he bottomed out, a guttural moan came from them, their tips rubbed against each other, almost already making it too much, and you were already done for. As soon as he started pushing into your walls, they were pulsing around them, the stretch so good, making you feel so full.

"Oh my-" Wooyoung moaned under you, his breath hitching when San started moving, his hands holding onto your waist - and Wooyoung's hand, grabbing at it hard, grounding himself. He had never been with a woman and felt the immediate need to come, and you've done that to him twice already today, but this was different from the earlier stimulation. Your insides were stretched around them, making it tighter, warmer, and so much more intense to feel.

There was something so intimate about this; other than the actual intrusion of both of them in you, their praises hit your ears, but never actually made it to the point where you could comprehend it over the overwhelming sensations.

They started moving in tandem, Wooyoung's hips working up into you while San did the same from behind you, splitting you way beyond your limits. You were a moaning mess, no actual thought behind your eyes, and Wooyoung clearly saw when his chuckle hit your ears, "already fucked dumb princess?"

His words went over your ears, you folded over him, both men working hard so you don't actually fall from the couch. "Such a pretty sight-fuck," San moaned, looking where you were connected, hypnotised by the way you took their lengths.

It didn't need too many thrusts from them to have you shaking in their hold, thighs begging to let your weight fall against the man under you, but they held you up, fucking you through your orgasm while whispering sweet little nothings to you.

The sight of your eyes rolling back into your head, and the endless moans reverberating off the walls, got Wooyoung closer than he would've liked, "'nna fuck you full of our come, baby," he groaned, thrusting harder and faster up into you, making San even more vocal than he was before. "make you pregnant with one of our's baby alright?"

His hand came down on your belly, caressing the silky skin there, right over the bump their cocks caused, and he pushed down there softly, his own moan escaping from his mouth, "Feel this, baby?" You nodded at him, head rolling back against San's shoulders, thighs burning as you bounced on them, helping their movements.

It took one perfect trust from San against your spot for you to come again, tightening even more around them, as liquid spills down your thighs, soaking your man's abdomen, and San's thighs, "Fuck, princess-" one of them moans, following you close with their high. Your thighs shaking from the overwhelming feeling, tears running down your cheeks, messing up whatever makeup you still had on.

The other follows with their orgasm too, twitching and pulsing deep inside you, as you collapse against Wooyoung's chest. His hands instantly wrap around you, pulling you closer, but making you all whine as the movement makes San slip a little bit out of you, but he doesn't stretch the euphoria long.

He pulls out of you, crashing against the side of Woo, his head resting against the shorter one's chest, with a content sigh. "How come we've never done this before?" your voice muffled against Wooyoung's skin.

Both men chuckle at your question, but don't actually have answers for you. They are good in the comfortable silence that has settled over the room, letting all of you rest after an exhausting day. But then the realisation comes over you, you're still in the changing room at a studio, both sets that were on you and San ruined, with bodily fluids you are sure the brand won't ask for back, but there is still a bigger question at stake, "How the fuck do we get out of here without getting it to everyone's knowledge what happened in here?"

taglist (open): @belongjoong @kisssan @strhwa @thatateezgirl @karlee10261990 @stxrrywoo @minkieater @moooonandroses @redemptions

You weren’t one of those girls who fell for every smooth-talking suit that popped up on Tinder.

At least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself.

Sure, you’d entertained a few late-night chats here and there. Sent the occasional picture to people who earned it - and by “earned it,” you meant they sent one first, and it was worth your time. But it was rare, nothing serious, and definitely not something you lost sleep over.

Then came Yunho.

Tall, magnetic, every inch of him looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad and straight into your messages. The kind of man who knew he didn’t have to try too hard - which was exactly why you couldn’t stop replying.

He wasn’t from around here. Just “in town for work,” he said, like that explained the tailored suits, the late meetings, and the pictures from hotels that looked more like penthouses. You told yourself you’d seen men like that before - charming, too busy to be real -  but somehow, he felt different.

Three days of messages later, even your coworkers started leaning over your shoulder during shifts, whispering about “the CEO from Tinder.” You laughed them off, pretending it was no big deal. But every time his name lit up your screen, your heart skipped like it hadn’t learned restraint.

It was supposed to be harmless - a few witty texts, a little back-and-forth tension.

Until you pushed him.

And he pushed back.

That’s how it started - not with a match, or a photo, or a spark - but with a line you didn’t mean to cross and a reply that changed everything.

The first time he called you out, it wasn’t even serious.

He’d sent a picture - half mirror, half smirk - and you’d made some comment about men who take selfies like that. He joked back, and you rolled your eyes, sent a teasing message that didn’t quite land the way you meant it to.

Then his reply came through:

Yunho:

That’s not how you talk to me.

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering.

He wasn’t angry - you could tell. The words felt calm, deliberate. A warning, but one that made your pulse trip over itself.

You smirked.

You:

Oh? And how am I supposed to talk to you, then?

Three dots blinked, then vanished.

You waited.

You:

You can’t expect me to guess what you want if you won’t say it.

A minute passed. Two. Then-

Yunho:

I’m giving you a chance to set that tone back.

You laughed softly under your breath.

You:

Or what?

Yunho:

Do you really want to find out?

He wasn’t flirting like the others did. There was no try-hard charm, no predictable lines. Just a quiet confidence that made every word feel heavier than it should have.

You:

Why do you think I’m asking? To run my mouth?

Yunho:

Careful, sweetheart.

That one did it. The kind of pet name that hit too close, too casual, too soon - and yet, you didn’t hate it.

You smiled at your reflection in the dark of your phone screen, hair falling into your face, and typed before you could think better of it.

You: I think you’re all bark, no bite.

For a moment, nothing.

Yunho:

You’re lucky I like when you’re mouthy.

You shouldn’t have grinned the way you did.

But it was too late.

He’d already gotten under your skin.

Across town, Yunho’s phone lit up again, the glow cutting through the low hotel room light. He was sitting on the couch, jacket still on, glass of some fine whiskey half-empty beside him. Mingi leaned against the desk, sleeves rolled up, scrolling through emails that neither of them really cared about.

“Still working, huh?” Mingi asked without looking up.

Yunho’s mouth twitched. “Something like that.”

Mingi finally glanced over, catching the look on his friend’s face - the one he only got when something actually managed to hold his attention. “Is that the girl from this city?” he asked, already smirking. “The one who made you late to the meeting?”

Yunho tilted his phone toward him for just a second, enough for Mingi to see the chat - the last line from you still visible on the screen.

I think you’re all bark, no bite.

“Oh, she’s good,” Mingi said, letting out a low laugh. “You usually shut them down before they get that far.”

Yunho’s thumb hovered above the keyboard, a faint crease forming between his brows. “She’s not like the others.”

“Right,” Mingi teased. “That’s what you said about the one from Seattle.”

“Yeah but I mean it this time,” Yunho said simply, leaning back, gaze still on the phone. His tone wasn’t defensive - just certain, like he was stating a fact.

Mingi studied him for a second, then poured another drink and walked over, handing the glass off. “Careful,” he said, voice light but eyes sharp. “You’re starting to sound like a man who’s losing.”

Yunho let out a quiet chuckle, clinking his glass against Mingi’s. “Losing’s only a problem if I stop playing.”

The phone buzzed again.

Another message.

Another round.

Losing a game they didn’t have rules for - or more importantly, a goal for - wasn’t new. Maybe it was finding their version of ‘true love’ along the way - though they knew they wouldn’t - more like a game of timing and attention.

A different pool of girls in every town, no strings attached, just entertainment - and not only for themselves but the entire company they worked at.

Mingi leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink. “You ever think about slowing down? Hitting pause on the messages?”

Yunho shook his head, eyes still on the phone, knowing exactly what Mingi meant - has he thought about actually finding a partner? To put an end to their playboy games and settle down - “What’s the point? The game’s more fun when it’s unpredictable.”

Mingi smirked. “Unpredictable, huh? Sounds like someone’s got a new favorite.” Yunho didn’t answer immediately. He let the phone light wash over his face, thumb hovering above the screen like it weighed more than it should. 

“Maybe,” he said finally, voice quiet. 

“Maybe.” Mingi leaned closer, curious. “This one different from the rest?”

“Yeah,” Yunho admitted, a hint of something unspoken in the way he said it. “She’s… not playing along. Not like the others.”

Mingi laughed, low and amused. “That’s dangerous, you know that? The ones who actually fight back.” Yunho’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. 

“Exactly.”

The phone buzzed again, and Yunho’s eyes lit up. Another line from you. Another volley in a game that didn’t have rules, and maybe, for the first time, no one really knew who would win.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. The dark of your apartment, the hum of the city outside, made it feel like it was just the two of you -  and somehow, he wasn’t even here.

You:

Then it’s a good thing I don’t plan on stopping.

The bubble flickered again, shorter this time.

Yunho:

You really don’t know when to quit, do you?

You:

Why would I, when it’s this fun watching you try to stay calm?

The phone stayed quiet for a moment, just long enough to make you bite your lip. Then:

Yunho:

You think I’m the one struggling here?

You:

Aren’t you?

The bubble appeared and disappeared faster this time, almost impatient. You could picture him there - smirking, jaw tight, trying not to let it show that he was actually enjoying the game.

Yunho:

Keep that same energy when we meet, sweetheart.

You froze for a heartbeat. Meet? The word lingered in your mind, teasing, dangerous, intoxicating. You had drawn the line - said no, kept your boundaries. But now, with the casual promise in that one message, everything felt like it was about to tilt.

You typed, deleted, retyped, finally settling on the one line that felt equal parts daring and amused.

You:

Oh, so you plan on meeting me? How sweet of you to fit me into that tight schedule of yours.

The three dots blinked back, and you grinned at the phone like you’d just won a round.

Sarcasm was in your blood, and with this man you loved using every ounce of it because you got put right into your place. Every. Fucking. Time.

And somehow, every late-night chat ended with him sending a picture - and every time, there was less fabric involved. You were hoping that little pattern would continue.

Yunho:

I would’ve loved to, but I don't like to reward brats.

Mingi laughed softly, glancing at his friend’s screen. “You’re in deep, my friend. She’s pulling strings you didn’t even know existed.”

Yunho’s gaze lingered on the screen, jaw tightening, lips twitching in that way that always meant he was enjoying the struggle more than he’d admit. “I don’t care,” he said. “We keep playing. Together.”

Mingi raised his glass in a silent toast, grinning. “Together,” he echoed. “But this one… this one’s going to be fun.”

You read his message again, rolling your eyes. I don’t like to reward brats.

Oh, so that’s how we’re playing?

You shook your head, biting your tongue to hide a smile - and failing miserably. How even could you? This man was a wet dream, and his best friend? God really took his time as when he worked his delicate time on them. How does that one song go? Two bad bitches at the same damn time?

Yunho was the man your coworkers wanted to meet at the bar, hoping someone like him would take them under their arms. The fantasy of a man who’d take them home, drape them in silk, spoil them senseless while they sipped wine and waited for him to return from his empire. Even you wanted a man like that once. 

But when the opportunity came, when it wasn’t just a fantasy on your screen, you hesitated.

Meeting a man who seemed too good to be true off Tinder? You liked living. You didn’t have a death wish - not yet, anyway.

Even working at a strip club had its dangers, but at least that thrill was one you could control.

These kinds of playboys were only good for a few days of entertainment. After they got to know your ambitions of not meeting them they fell off, and the cycle started again.

You:

Reward? You’ve been the one showing off all week, remember? I’m practically keeping score at this point.

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Yunho:

Then maybe it’s your turn to even the score.

You:

You’re awfully confident for someone who’s already run out of shirts to take off.

Yunho:

Confidence looks better when it’s shared.

You rolled your eyes, smiling anyway. He never asked, not really - just left space, like an invitation you could accept or ignore.

You:

Tempting. But I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you.

Yunho:

You already have. Every time you reply.

That one landed harder than you expected. He wasn’t demanding; he was just there, patient, coaxing.

You:

So this is your strategy? Charm until surrender?

Yunho:

No. Wait until you decide losing doesn’t sound so bad.

You stared at the screen, half laughing, half restless. Somehow, he’d flipped the game again - without a single instruction.

You:

Maybe I’ll send you something small

just so you remember who’s in charge.

Yunho:

Small? I’ll take my chances. 

You roll your eyes, but you are already adjusting the lighting, checking your reflection in the mirror. It’s your move, your idea; the photo’s barely anything, but it’s enough to shift the balance again. Still in your work clothes barrel crashed the couch when you decided texting him back was more important then getting in decent and comfortable clothes but this was maybe your win.

On the other end, Yunho’s breath caught halfway through a sip of whiskey. He tried to hide it, but failed. The image filled his screen - You're on your stomach on a couch, a fur coat around your shoulders just for show, not actually looking like it's there for holding you warm the way your cleavage is spilling out of your top, hair cascading down around your shoulders. 

A low whistle left Mingi’s mouth beside him. He ran a hand through his hair, eyebrows raised in disbelief and admiration. “You’ve outdone yourself this time,” he muttered, still staring at the screen.

Yunho only smirked, eyes fixed on his phone. “I didn’t do anything,” he said quietly. “She did.”

Mingi’s head fell into his hands “I can’t believe she has me sporting a boner over that picture” His voice muffled through his hands as Yunho chuckled, his own situation not much softer.

Yunho’s phone buzzed in his hands again.

You:

Good enough for your high standards, Mr. “I don’t reward brats”?

Yunho leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slow grin. Mingi was still shaking his head, muttering something about him feeling like a teenage boy.

Yunho:

More than enough. But now you’ve ruined every excuse I had to stay calm tonight.

You read it twice, smirking.

You:

Guess we’re even then.

For a long moment, nothing. Then your phone buzzed again.

Yunho on the other side of the phone was smirking and proud of his work.

A few minutes earlier a spark lit up in his mind while looking at your picture, which basically sounded like “Wanna get her back for that?” outloud. Mingi looked up from his hands, his one eyebrow lifted in a curious manner, and Yunho went on.

“We send a picture back just follow my lead” he said, voice authoritative leaving Mingi no room to argue. 

And then Yunho did the thing that no one in their right minds would have thought about, and put his hand on Mingi’s lap basically palming his hard on. Mingi’s eyebrows flew to his hairline jumping back in his seat, hands coming up in a defensive manner.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- hold on,” Mingi said, eyes wide as he looked straight at Yunho. “You know I don’t have a problem with this stuff, but I don’t actually swing that way.”

Yunho just grinned, unbothered. A low chuckle slipped out as he adjusted his phone. “Relax. Just do the same. I snap a pic, send it to her, and she’s done for.”

Mingi swallowed hard but nodded anyway, muttering something under his breath about getting dragged into his best friend’s bad ideas. Still, he did as he was told.

A few seconds later, your phone lit up.

You blinked once, twice - then just stared, mouth slightly open. If someone had walked in, they’d have caught you frozen mid-breath, eyes wide, the picture still bright on your screen. For a second, you wondered if your mind had made it up.

You didn’t move for a full minute.

The photo still burned on your screen, your reflection faintly visible over it in the glass. You weren’t sure if you were shocked, impressed, or just entirely thrown off your balance.

Another message lit up.

Yunho:

You still breathing, sweetheart?

You:

Didn’t impress me that much.

A lie, obviously, but a convincing one if you didn’t read too close.

Yunho:

You hesitated long enough to make me think otherwise.

You:

I was bored. Deciding whether to pretend to be impressed or not.

Yunho:

Sure. Keep telling yourself that.

You smiled at the screen, half exasperated, half entertained. He wasn’t biting the way other men did - he was steady, unshaken, the calm to your noise.

You:

Don’t get used to me replying this fast.

Yunho:

That sounds like a challenge.

You:

No, Yunho. It sounds like a boundary.

He didn’t answer right away this time. When he finally did, his tone felt softer, deliberate.

Yunho:

Boundaries make it more interesting. Still not giving up on seeing you.

You stared at your phone a second longer, watching the last message sit there. Still not giving up on seeing you. He meant it. You could tell.

You tossed the phone onto the couch, the screen face-down, as if that would mute the part of your mind still replaying his voice in your head. He was a problem you didn’t need - and one you couldn’t stop thinking about.

For the rest of the night, you convinced yourself it was over. You’d drawn your line. He’d won.

--

The dressing room smelled like perfume and setting spray, the air thick with laughter and the static buzz of neon from the hallway.

You were sitting in front of the mirror, head tilted slightly as you traced the last swipe of lipstick across your mouth. The reflection stared back at you - composed, collected, not at all like someone who’d spent the last few nights dodging messages she still wanted to answer.

You leaned back, brushing glitter from your collarbone, fixing the strap of your top. The other girls were finishing up beside you, talking about weekend plans, customers, the same stories on repeat. You smiled when they did, pretending you were listening.

Your phone buzzed once on the counter, screen lighting up with his name.

You ignored it.

Across town, Yunho tossed his own phone onto the hotel couch, the same unread message still sitting at the top of his chat.

He’d been patient - patient for him, anyway - but the silence was beginning to itch.

Mingi was sprawled across the other end of the couch, flipping through channels like he was auditioning them for boredom. “We done here?” he asked. “Because this city’s not getting more interesting the longer we sit in it.”

Yunho exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “You wanted to hit that place by the river, didn’t you?”

Mingi perked up. “That strip club?”

Yunho’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Yeah. Why not.”

Mingi grinned, grabbing his jacket. “Finally. I thought you were gonna mope all night.”

Yunho didn’t reply. He just reached for his key card, pocketed his phone, and followed him out the door - still thinking about the messages you hadn’t answered.

The drive across the city was short - lights blurring into gold and red outside the car windows, the kind of restless hour that made everything feel possible. Mingi talked about the week, about the trip, about anything to fill the space. Yunho just listened, half there, half somewhere else.

He wasn’t used to being ignored. He was the one controlling the conversation - when it ends, the tone of it, everything. This was an unfamiliar feeling for him, and for a girl he wouldn’t have minded getting known.

By the time they pulled up outside the club, the night had folded into that in-between hour - too late for the after-work crowd, too early for the drunks. A valet waved them in without question; men like them didn’t need introductions.

Inside, the air was cool and dark, laced with perfume and low music. Velvet curtains, mirrored walls, and a stage glowing in half-shadow.

Mingi whistled under his breath. “Nice place.”

Yunho only nodded, eyes flicking over the room before settling into their booth near the stage. He still hadn’t touched his phone, though his thumb brushed against it once, out of habit.

Back in the dressing room, you could hear the low murmur of voices beyond the curtain - the kind that always picked up before a late set. One of the girls leaned over your shoulder, reapplying her gloss. “You’re on in five.”

You nodded, smoothing your hair one last time. The music from the floor shifted, the tempo slower now, heavier.

You stood, slipped your heels back on, and caught your reflection in the mirror again - one deep breath, a small smile, a flicker of something you didn’t name.

Outside, the lights dimmed.

Yunho leaned back in his seat as the music swelled, the spotlight cutting through the smoke.

And then you stepped into it.

The haze of the lights made everything on the floor look soft around the edges, faces melting into shadows. You kept your steps measured, practiced, the music guiding your body.

Then one shape sharpened out of the blur.

Tall. Broad shoulders.

Eyes locked on you like he’d been waiting for you to walk into that exact spotlight.

Yunho.

Your heartbeat skipped, just once.

Right beside him sat the friend from the elevator photo. Mingi. Taller, built like trouble in a leather jacket, a slow smirk pulling at his mouth the moment he recognized you.

You didn’t break rhythm, but your pulse kicked up another notch.

As you turned, passing near their booth, Yunho leaned in just enough for his voice to carry to you.

"Seems like we meet afterall, Sweetheart"

You didn’t look at him. Couldn’t.

But the corner of your mouth twitched up, betraying you.

Mingi noticed immediately. He let out a low whistle, tapping Yunho’s arm.

"She’s even hotter in person," he murmured, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

Yunho didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on you, dark and steady.

"Focus," he muttered back. "She can hear you."

"Good," Mingi said, smirking wider. "Maybe she’ll look over here again."

You didn’t. Not yet.

But your next spin wasn’t as effortless as the last.

You passed the booth again, and this time you let your gaze flick toward them for half a second.

Yunho noticed.

Mingi definitely noticed.

Mingi grinned, leaning back with one arm stretched over the booth. "Oh yeah," he said, low enough for only Yunho to hear. "She’s gonna be fun."

Yunho’s jaw tightened, but his eyes burned hotter.

You shouldn’t have spoken, but the words slipped out anyway, soft and perfectly aimed.

"Don’t flatter yourselves. I’m working."

Mingi laughed under his breath, delighted. 

Yunho didn’t laugh.

He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees, attention cutting straight through the dim lights.

"Finish your set," he said quietly. "We’ll talk after."

A spark shot through your chest. Irritation. Attraction. Both.

You turned away before either of them could read the expression on your face.

The song dipped, then faded out completely, leaving your pulse loud in your ears. You walked offstage without a single glance back, heels clicking against the floor with more confidence than you felt.

Behind you, Mingi blew out a low breath, still smirking.

"Damn," he muttered.

Yunho didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

"She heard me," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Mingi replied, amused. "And she liked it."

Yunho didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

You weren’t one of those girls who fell for every smooth-talking suit that popped up on Tinder. At least, that’s what you liked to tell yourself.

Sure, you’d entertained a few late-night chats here and there. Sent the occasional picture to people who earned it - and by “earned it,” you meant they sent one first, and it was worth your time. But it was rare, nothing serious, and definitely not something you lost sleep over.

Then came Yunho.

Tall, magnetic, every inch of him looking like he’d stepped out of a magazine ad and straight into your messages. The kind of man who knew he didn’t have to try too hard - which was exactly why you couldn’t stop replying.

He wasn’t from around here. Just “in town for work,” he said, like that explained the tailored suits, the late meetings, and the pictures from hotels that looked more like penthouses. You told yourself you’d seen men like that before - charming, too busy to be real -  but somehow, he felt different.

Three days of messages later, even your coworkers started leaning over your shoulder during shifts, whispering about “the CEO from Tinder.” You laughed them off, pretending it was no big deal. But every time his name lit up your screen, your heart skipped like it hadn’t learned restraint.

It was supposed to be harmless - a few witty texts, a little back-and-forth tension. Until you pushed him. And he pushed back.

That’s how it started - not with a match, or a photo, or a spark - but with a line you didn’t mean to cross and a reply that changed everything.

The first time he called you out, it wasn’t even serious. He’d sent a picture - half mirror, half smirk - and you’d made some comment about men who take selfies like that. He joked back, and you rolled your eyes, sent a teasing message that didn’t quite land the way you meant it to.

Then his reply came through:

Yunho: That’s not how you talk to me.

You stared at the screen, thumb hovering. He wasn’t angry - you could tell. The words felt calm, deliberate. A warning, but one that made your pulse trip over itself.

You smirked.

You: Oh? And how am I supposed to talk to you, then?

Three dots blinked, then vanished. You waited.

You: You can’t expect me to guess what you want if you won’t say it.

A minute passed. Two. Then-

Yunho: I’m giving you a chance to set that tone back.

You laughed softly under your breath.

You: Or what?

Yunho: Do you really want to find out?

He wasn’t flirting like the others did. There was no try-hard charm, no predictable lines. Just a quiet confidence that made every word feel heavier than it should have.

You: Why do you think I’m asking? To run my mouth?

Yunho: Careful, sweetheart.

That one did it. The kind of pet name that hit too close, too casual, too soon - and yet, you didn’t hate it. You smiled at your reflection in the dark of your phone screen, hair falling into your face, and typed before you could think better of it.

You: I think you’re all bark, no bite.

For a moment, nothing.

Yunho: You’re lucky I like when you’re mouthy.

You shouldn’t have grinned the way you did. But it was too late. He’d already gotten under your skin.

Across town, Yunho’s phone lit up again, the glow cutting through the low hotel room light. He was sitting on the couch, jacket still on, glass of some fine whiskey half-empty beside him. Mingi leaned against the desk, sleeves rolled up, scrolling through emails that neither of them really cared about.

“Still working, huh?” Mingi asked without looking up.

Yunho’s mouth twitched. “Something like that.”

Mingi finally glanced over, catching the look on his friend’s face - the one he only got when something actually managed to hold his attention. “Is that the girl from this city?” he asked, already smirking. “The one who made you late to the meeting?”

Yunho tilted his phone toward him for just a second, enough for Mingi to see the chat - the last line from you still visible on the screen. I think you’re all bark, no bite.

“Oh, she’s good,” Mingi said, letting out a low laugh. “You usually shut them down before they get that far.”

Yunho’s thumb hovered above the keyboard, a faint crease forming between his brows. “She’s not like the others.”

“Right,” Mingi teased. “That’s what you said about the one from Seattle.”

“Yeah but I mean it this time,” Yunho said simply, leaning back, gaze still on the phone. His tone wasn’t defensive - just certain, like he was stating a fact.

Mingi studied him for a second, then poured another drink and walked over, handing the glass off. “Careful,” he said, voice light but eyes sharp. “You’re starting to sound like a man who’s losing.”

Yunho let out a quiet chuckle, clinking his glass against Mingi’s. “Losing’s only a problem if I stop playing.”

The phone buzzed again. Another message. Another round.

Losing a game they didn’t have rules for - or more importantly, a goal for - wasn’t new. Maybe it was finding their version of ‘true love’ along the way - though they knew they wouldn’t - more like a game of timing and attention.

A different pool of girls in every town, no strings attached, just entertainment - and not only for themselves but the entire company they worked at.

Mingi leaned back in his chair, swirling his drink. “You ever think about slowing down? Hitting pause on the messages?”

Yunho shook his head, eyes still on the phone, knowing exactly what Mingi meant - has he thought about actually finding a partner? To put an end to their playboy games and settle down - “What’s the point? The game’s more fun when it’s unpredictable.”

Mingi smirked. “Unpredictable, huh? Sounds like someone’s got a new favorite.” Yunho didn’t answer immediately. He let the phone light wash over his face, thumb hovering above the screen like it weighed more than it should. 

“Maybe,” he said finally, voice quiet. 

“Maybe.” Mingi leaned closer, curious. “This one different from the rest?”

“Yeah,” Yunho admitted, a hint of something unspoken in the way he said it. “She’s… not playing along. Not like the others.”

Mingi laughed, low and amused. “That’s dangerous, you know that? The ones who actually fight back.” Yunho’s lips curved into a small, knowing smile. 

“Exactly.”

The phone buzzed again, and Yunho’s eyes lit up. Another line from you. Another volley in a game that didn’t have rules, and maybe, for the first time, no one really knew who would win.

You laughed softly, shaking your head. The dark of your apartment, the hum of the city outside, made it feel like it was just the two of you -  and somehow, he wasn’t even here.

You: Then it’s a good thing I don’t plan on stopping.

The bubble flickered again, shorter this time.

Yunho: You really don’t know when to quit, do you?

You: Why would I, when it’s this fun watching you try to stay calm?

The phone stayed quiet for a moment, just long enough to make you bite your lip. Then:

Yunho: You think I’m the one struggling here?

You: Aren’t you?

The bubble appeared and disappeared faster this time, almost impatient. You could picture him there - smirking, jaw tight, trying not to let it show that he was actually enjoying the game.

Yunho: Keep that same energy when we meet, sweetheart.

You froze for a heartbeat. Meet? The word lingered in your mind, teasing, dangerous, intoxicating. You had drawn the line - said no, kept your boundaries. But now, with the casual promise in that one message, everything felt like it was about to tilt.

You typed, deleted, retyped, finally settling on the one line that felt equal parts daring and amused.

You: Oh, so you plan on meeting me? How sweet of you to fit me into that tight schedule of yours.

The three dots blinked back, and you grinned at the phone like you’d just won a round you didn’t even know you were playing.

Sarcasm was in your blood, and with this man you loved using every ounce of it because you got put right into your place. Every. Fucking. Time.

And somehow, every late-night chat ended with him sending a picture - and every time, there was less fabric involved. You were hoping that little pattern would continue.

Yunho: I would’ve loved to, but I don't like to reward brats.

Mingi laughed softly, glancing at his friend’s screen. “You’re in deep, my friend. She’s pulling strings you didn’t even know existed.”

Yunho’s gaze lingered on the screen, jaw tightening, lips twitching in that way that always meant he was enjoying the struggle more than he’d admit. “I don’t care,” he said. “We keep playing. Together.”

Mingi raised his glass in a silent toast, grinning. “Together,” he echoed. “But this one… this one’s going to be fun.”

You read his message again, rolling your eyes. I don’t like to reward brats.

Oh, so that’s how we’re playing?

You shook your head, biting your tongue to hide a smile - and failing miserably. How even could you? This man was a wet dream, and his best friend? God really took his time as when he worked his delicate time on them. How does that one song go? Two bad bitches at the same damn time?

Yunho was the man your coworkers wanted to meet at the bar, hoping someone like him would take them under their arms. The fantasy of a man who’d take them home, drape them in silk, spoil them senseless while they sipped wine and waited for him to return from his empire. Even you wanted a man like that once. 

But when the opportunity came, when it wasn’t just a fantasy on your screen, you hesitated.

Meeting a man who seemed too good to be true off Tinder? You liked living. You didn’t have a death wish - not yet, anyway.

Even working at a strip club had its dangers, but at least that thrill was one you could control.

These kinds of playboys were only good for a few days of entertainment. After they got to know your ambitions of not meeting them they fell off, and the cycle started again.

You: Reward? You’ve been the one showing off all week, remember? I’m practically keeping score at this point.

The typing bubble appeared almost instantly.

Yunho: Then maybe it’s your turn to even the score.

You: You’re awfully confident for someone who’s already run out of shirts to take off.

Yunho: Confidence looks better when it’s shared.

You rolled your eyes, smiling anyway. He never asked, not really - just left space, like an invitation you could accept or ignore.

You: Tempting. But I wouldn’t want to make it too easy for you.

Yunho: You already have. Every time you reply.

That one landed harder than you expected. He wasn’t demanding; he was just there, patient, coaxing.

You: So this is your strategy? Charm until surrender?

Yunho: No. Wait until you decide losing doesn’t sound so bad.

You stared at the screen, half laughing, half restless. Somehow, he’d flipped the game again - without a single instruction.

You: Maybe I’ll send you something small just so you remember who’s in charge.

Yunho: Small? I’ll take my chances. 

You roll your eyes, but you are already adjusting the lighting, checking your reflection in the mirror. It’s your move, your idea; the photo’s barely anything, but it’s enough to shift the balance again. Still in your work clothes barrel crashed the couch when you decided texting him back was more important then getting in decent and comfortable clothes but this was maybe your win.

On the other end, Yunho’s breath caught halfway through a sip of whiskey. He tried to hide it, but failed. The image filled his screen - You're on your stomach on a couch, a fur coat around your shoulders just for show, not actually looking like it's there for holding you warm the way your cleavage is spilling out of your top, hair cascading down around your shoulders. 

A low whistle left Mingi’s mouth beside him. He ran a hand through his hair, eyebrows raised in disbelief and admiration. “You’ve outdone yourself this time,” he muttered, still staring at the screen.

Yunho only smirked, eyes fixed on his phone. “I didn’t do anything,” he said quietly. “She did.”

Mingi’s head fell into his hands “I can’t believe she has me sporting a boner over that picture” His voice muffled through his hands as Yunho chuckled, his own situation not much softer.

Yunho’s phone buzzed in his hands again.

You: Good enough for your high standards, Mr. “I don’t reward brats”?

Yunho leaned back in his chair, the corner of his mouth twitching into a slow grin. Mingi was still shaking his head, muttering something about him feeling like a teenage boy.

Yunho: More than enough. But now you’ve ruined every excuse I had to stay calm tonight.

You read it twice, smirking.

You: Guess we’re even then.

For a long moment, nothing. Then your phone buzzed again.

Yunho on the other side of the phone was smirking and proud of his work.

A few minutes earlier a spark lit up in his mind while looking at your picture, which basically sounded like “Wanna get her back for that?” outloud. Mingi looked up from his hands, his one eyebrow lifted in a curious manner, and Yunho went on.

“We send a picture back just follow my lead” he said, voice authoritative leaving Mingi no room to argue. 

And then Yunho did the thing that no one in their right minds would have thought about, and put his hand on Mingi’s lap basically palming his hard on. Mingi’s eyebrows flew to his hairline jumping back in his seat, hands coming up in a defensive manner.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa- hold on,” Mingi said, eyes wide as he looked straight at Yunho. “You know I don’t have a problem with this stuff, but I don’t actually swing that way.”

Yunho just grinned, unbothered. A low chuckle slipped out as he adjusted his phone. “Relax. Just do the same. I snap a pic, send it to her, and she’s done for.”

Mingi swallowed hard but nodded anyway, muttering something under his breath about getting dragged into his best friend’s bad ideas. Still, he did as he was told.

A few seconds later, your phone lit up.

You blinked once, twice - then just stared, mouth slightly open. If someone had walked in, they’d have caught you frozen mid-breath, eyes wide, the picture still bright on your screen. For a second, you wondered if your mind had made it up.

You didn’t move for a full minute. The photo still burned on your screen, your reflection faintly visible over it in the glass. You weren’t sure if you were shocked, impressed, or just entirely thrown off your balance.

Another message lit up.

Yunho: You still breathing, sweetheart?

You: Didn’t impress me that much.

A lie, obviously, but a convincing one if you didn’t read too close.

Yunho: You hesitated long enough to make me think otherwise.

You: I was bored. Deciding whether to pretend to be impressed or not.

Yunho: Sure. Keep telling yourself that.

You smiled at the screen, half exasperated, half entertained. He wasn’t biting the way other men did - he was steady, unshaken, the calm to your noise.

You: Don’t get used to me replying this fast.

Yunho: That sounds like a challenge.

You: No, Yunho. It sounds like a boundary.

He didn’t answer right away this time. When he finally did, his tone felt softer, deliberate.

Yunho: Boundaries make it more interesting. Still not giving up on seeing you.

You stared at your phone a second longer, watching the last message sit there. Still not giving up on seeing you. He meant it. You could tell.

You tossed the phone onto the couch, the screen face-down, as if that would mute the part of your mind still replaying his voice in your head. He was a problem you didn’t need - and one you couldn’t stop thinking about.

For the rest of the night, you convinced yourself it was over. You’d drawn your line. He’d won.

--

The dressing room smelled like perfume and setting spray, the air thick with laughter and the static buzz of neon from the hallway.

You were sitting in front of the mirror, head tilted slightly as you traced the last swipe of lipstick across your mouth. The reflection stared back at you - composed, collected, not at all like someone who’d spent the last few nights dodging messages she still wanted to answer.

You leaned back, brushing glitter from your collarbone, fixing the strap of your top. The other girls were finishing up beside you, talking about weekend plans, customers, the same stories on repeat. You smiled when they did, pretending you were listening.

Your phone buzzed once on the counter, screen lighting up with his name. You ignored it.

Across town, Yunho tossed his own phone onto the hotel couch, the same unread message still sitting at the top of his chat. He’d been patient - patient for him, anyway - but the silence was beginning to itch.

Mingi was sprawled across the other end of the couch, flipping through channels like he was auditioning them for boredom. “We done here?” he asked. “Because this city’s not getting more interesting the longer we sit in it.”

Yunho exhaled, rubbing his jaw. “You wanted to hit that place by the river, didn’t you?”

Mingi perked up. “That strip club?”

Yunho’s mouth twitched into a half-smile. “Yeah. Why not.”

Mingi grinned, grabbing his jacket. “Finally. I thought you were gonna mope all night.”

Yunho didn’t reply. He just reached for his key card, pocketed his phone, and followed him out the door - still thinking about the messages you hadn’t answered.

The drive across the city was short - lights blurring into gold and red outside the car windows, the kind of restless hour that made everything feel possible. Mingi talked about the week, about the trip, about anything to fill the space. Yunho just listened, half there, half somewhere else.

He wasn’t used to being ignored. He was the one controlling the conversation - when it ends, the tone of it, everything. This was an unfamiliar feeling for him, and for a girl he wouldn’t have minded getting known.

By the time they pulled up outside the club, the night had folded into that in-between hour - too late for the after-work crowd, too early for the drunks. A valet waved them in without question; men like them didn’t need introductions.

Inside, the air was cool and dark, laced with perfume and low music. Velvet curtains, mirrored walls, and a stage glowing in half-shadow.

Mingi whistled under his breath. “Nice place.”

Yunho only nodded, eyes flicking over the room before settling into their booth near the stage. He still hadn’t touched his phone, though his thumb brushed against it once, out of habit.

Back in the dressing room, you could hear the low murmur of voices beyond the curtain - the kind that always picked up before a late set. One of the girls leaned over your shoulder, reapplying her gloss. “You’re on in five.”

You nodded, smoothing your hair one last time. The music from the floor shifted, the tempo slower now, heavier.

You stood, slipped your heels back on, and caught your reflection in the mirror again - one deep breath, a small smile, a flicker of something you didn’t name.

Outside, the lights dimmed.

Yunho leaned back in his seat as the music swelled, the spotlight cutting through the smoke.

And then you stepped into it.

The haze of the lights made everything on the floor look soft around the edges, faces melting into shadows. You kept your steps measured, practiced, the music guiding your body.

Then one shape sharpened out of the blur.

Tall. Broad shoulders. Eyes locked on you like he’d been waiting for you to walk into that exact spotlight.

Yunho.

Your heartbeat skipped, just once.

Right beside him sat the friend from the elevator photo. Mingi. Taller, built like trouble in a leather jacket, a slow smirk pulling at his mouth the moment he recognized you.

You didn’t break rhythm, but your pulse kicked up another notch.

As you turned, passing near their booth, Yunho leaned in just enough for his voice to carry to you.

"Seems like we meet afterall, Sweetheart"

You didn’t look at him. Couldn’t. But the corner of your mouth twitched up, betraying you.

Mingi noticed immediately. He let out a low whistle, tapping Yunho’s arm.

"She’s even hotter in person," he murmured, not bothering to hide the amusement in his voice.

Yunho didn’t look at him. His eyes stayed on you, dark and steady.

"Focus," he muttered back. "She can hear you."

"Good," Mingi said, smirking wider. "Maybe she’ll look over here again."

You didn’t. Not yet. But your next spin wasn’t as effortless as the last.

You passed the booth again, and this time you let your gaze flick toward them for half a second.

Yunho noticed. Mingi definitely noticed.

Mingi grinned, leaning back with one arm stretched over the booth. "Oh yeah," he said, low enough for only Yunho to hear. "She’s gonna be fun."

Yunho’s jaw tightened, but his eyes burned hotter.

You shouldn’t have spoken, but the words slipped out anyway, soft and perfectly aimed.

"Don’t flatter yourselves. I’m working."

Mingi laughed under his breath, delighted. 

Yunho didn’t laugh. He just leaned forward, elbows on his knees, attention cutting straight through the dim lights.

"Finish your set," he said quietly. "We’ll talk after."

A spark shot through your chest. Irritation. Attraction. Both.

You turned away before either of them could read the expression on your face.

The song dipped, then faded out completely, leaving your pulse loud in your ears. You walked offstage without a single glance back, heels clicking against the floor with more confidence than you felt.

Behind you, Mingi blew out a low breath, still smirking.

"Damn," he muttered.

Yunho didn’t move. Didn’t blink.

"She heard me," he said quietly.

"Yeah," Mingi replied, amused. "And she liked it."

Yunho didn’t answer.

He didn’t have to.

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