Dreamer

mingyu inhales sharply, propping his laptop and mic on his bedside table before shuffling down his bed to be more comfortable, his left hand now toying with the gartered band of his shorts. he feels his cock start to harden, all because of your words.

"tch, perhaps." it's a weak attempt at getting the upper hand, on his own damn live. he spots your username and the little bouncing circles indicating your'e typing. it's like he can only focus on you, his favorite regular.

pretty.miss: hehe. have you eaten yet then?

"y-yeah, I had some tuna mayo riceballs e-earlier." for some reason, mingyu's mind had drifted to how lovely you must sound, asking about his day and talking about yours. the thought sends tingles running down his spine and causing more blood to flow down his body and harden his dick. mingyu knows it's ridiculous, getting off to the mere thought of how your voice must sound, but he can't help himself, not when his eyes flit to the screen and sees you've commented once more. his hand slides past the gartered band of his shorts and is now palming the bulge that has formed in his boxers.

pretty.miss: oh did you make them yourself?

mingyu nods, and upon realizing that you can't actually see him, tries to calm himself down so he won't sound so obvious and get found out. "I-hah- I did." So much for not being caught.

pretty.miss: you okay, babyboy? you sound out of breath

the petname goes straight to his dick; mingyu lets out a shuddering breath, one the viewers most definitely heard, and lets his hand wrap around himself. he gives himself a few languid strokes, thumb brushing the tip to collect the precum pooling there. through gritted teeth, he answers you. "I'm f-fine, pretty."

pretty.miss: you sure? idk it sounds like you're getting needy

hole4sale: oh shit

cocks1ut: wait pretty miss is right?????

skinnyp3n1s: are you touching yourself??

the pinging of the chat turns him on even more, and in the absence of an answer, his viewers start donating. it's like he's been conditioned; mingyu's body turns warmer and he gets needier at the sound of the clinking coins. it's been no more than 10 minutes and he's already reached half of his usual goal.

"i j-just wanted to catch up with you g-guys," mingyu huffs, reaching over his bedside table for the bottle lube. he removes his hand from his dick to squirt a generous amount of lube on it, the slick, wet sound making its way to the mic. "you just had to turn it into something else..."

pretty.miss: oh so you're blaming us now? it's not our fault you get turned on by a little small talk

pretty.miss donated 100 coins!

the chat joins in, crude words teasing him about how needy and easy he is for them. mingyu whimpers when his lubed hand makes contact with his sensitive cock, desperation urging him to fuck his fist already. but he shakes his head, mouth dry as he pleads, "can i touch myself? please?"

pretty.miss: you know i can't say no to you, baby

"f-fuck, thank you!" mingyu's whimpers are endless as he fucks his fist, just the like the coins being donated to him. eyes scrnuched close, miraculously enough, he manages to block out the clinking, his mind coming up with thoughts of how it would feel like to fuck you instead. his breath turns ragged at the thought, convince there's nothing more that could drive him so insane.

then, in a moment of delirium, he thinks of how you're probably getting off to him (or at the very least thinking of him in the most impure of ways), how his voice does the same things to you that your words do with him. mingyu feels his abs contract and his toes curling as his orgasm builds up.

"hng, f-fuck, i'm so close-" a loud, whiny moan rips from mingyu's throat and the chat rolls endlessly, the pinging sound of notifications making his already fuzzy head spin. "p-please let me cum, please!"

gyu cracks one eye open then the other just in time to see your comment of approval before he's seeing stars and spurting ribbons of white all over his fist.

he feels like his bones were made to accommodate the slope of your hands along his neck and along his mountainous shoulders. you liked stirring swirls with the tips of your acrylics into his messy black hair in the morning.

the sun streams through the half-broken blinds of your apartment, blanketing san in a patterned ray of light. his gentle eyes closed sleepily, practically purring at the feel of your hands and your body warmth beneath him. you lie with your back against the headrest, pillows stuffed beneath your lower back, whilst san lounges comfortably with his head in your lap.

his big, soft hands hold your thighs together like a pillow he fears will iceberg beneath his ear. the comforter is thrown haphazardly over your bed, the fitted sheet lifting off the corners of the mattress. proof of a… busy night.

every time you all but shift beneath him, he grumbles and holds your thighs together. “move again, and i’ll lock your legs together.”

tempting, but you did not need to rile him up this early in the morning. san was much like a cat. cute, fickle. particular.

you wont sit still? he'll do something to help you to relax.

the fingers on your thighs splay wider as if to grab more of your flesh, and he turns his head and begins dusting the tops of your thighs with kisses.

“my sweet, pretty girl.” san murmurs against your skin, a teasing, pouty tone to it. this is how it starts. with buttering you up.

he moves the blanket so his broad shoulders are exposed to the gold morning light, the grey tanktop doing little to hide the proof of his hard work. he can almost feel the way your eyes laser in on his back, and he can't help but smile as his wandering hands move to slip your panties down your legs smoothly. his warm kisses never cease, sensual and promising.

your hands slip away from his hair in surprise, and he nearly throws a fit as he grumbles and grabs your wrists and brings them back to the top of his head. his hands are back on your body in no time, holding both sides of your waist as you might melt through his fingers and massaging your hips with that perfect amount of pressure.

the feeling evokes a content sight out of you, and you find your upper body stretching subconsciously.

“there we go, big stretch, babydoll. good morning to you too,” san teases you with that stomach-flipping grin, and you narrow your eyes to tease him back. he, however, drags his worked, big hands down your waist, along the curve of your hips, back down to your thighs, where he wastes no time in spreading your legs in a way that can only be described as greedily.

“i wanna say good morning to her too…” he growls very quietly under his breath, hastily pushing your thighs back and up against your stomach. “she's always so happy to see me.”

the evidence of “her excitement” is clear: strings of arousal that cling to your lips, spread nice and pretty from the way san holds your legs open. his hands travel along your outer thighs, up your sides, all the while his head lowers between your thighs, eager.

“you were excited first,” you attempt to retort, to resume some semblance of control. you knew you had none; you were so weak for him. and when his heated tongue lay flat against your cunt, and his thumbs pressed into your lower stomach, you had only been proven right.

he squeezed your body like a stress toy, the muscles in his back twitching with every register of your taste. he moaned, so prettily. his mouth moved slowly and deliberately. leisurely, open-mouth kisses. deep, wide licks and hungry swallows. anyone he could tell he was doing it 100% for you would know he was lying if they saw and heard the way san was making out with your pussy.

your head falls back against the headboard, the bones in your legs liquefying as your boyfriend eats breakfast.

“hello, beautiful,” he purrs into a suckling kiss against your clit, and you feel an overwhelming mix of emotions come over you. you grip his hair harder, and he bites his bottom lip with a grin and a laugh as he spits between your pussy lips.

shame, embarrassment, arousal that burned too bright, it ached low in your stomach. you hated it when he talked to your cunt. but the way your stomach tightened in response spoke volumes every time.

when he starts kneading your lower stomach, deep and slow like he was working knots out of you, and gently kitten licking right under your clit, you pull his hair so hard he hisses in pain.

“aww, baby, you’re making this so hard for me.” san pouts and one of his hands lightly smacks your stomach. “i'm tryna keep you clean, but you won't stop dripping all over the sheets, always so messy!”

you sniffle and moan, one of his hands falling away from your waist and slithering between your legs, gathering the stickiness he's pulled out of you all over his middle fingers.

your body twitches at the new touch, and san moans long and low around your clit as he slides his fingers knuckle deep inside you, quick to scrape against that spot, and stars were bursting at the back of your skull.

“d-oh fuck… s-san, mmm…” your words dissolved into mindless, blissful pleasure. a horny smile spreads across your lips as san pushes his fingers deeper into your cunt.

“my gorgeous, sloppy girl.” san slurs against your pussy, his eyebrows furrowing as he eats you like he was imagining it was your lips. his eyes close and his hand squeezes tighter, his thumb presses deeper. his fingers curl harder inside of you, his tongue turns merciless against your clit, and his moans drag feelings out of you that should be illegal.

for some reason, you just could not take it this morning; it all felt so intense for some unknown reason. your hips bucked against his mouth, his fingers repeatedly caught on the ridge inside of you, and your legs began to shake.

san pouts and clicks his tongue out of pity, moving his fingers in deep, wavelike strokes that made your throat feel like somebody was trying to pull it out of you through your stomach. “aww, babydoll, you’re shuddering. it feels so wrong when you cum without me kissing you.”

this is true. he loves to drink your noises when you cum, feel the warmth of your teeth as you shatter on his dick, fingers, abs… etc. he would normally abandon the meal and just finger you until you snap, but, god. he couldn't stay away from your pussy.

warm and sweet and wet. your plush thighs hugging his ears like muffs. your nails against his scalp like a reminder of how he makes you feel. he frowns, like some innocent, wronged cat whose tail you’ve stepped on. but the way his fingers curl and the way he kisses your clit tell different stories.

the hand still holding your waist, and effortlessly your body against the bed, lands another slap against your stomach, and your limbs jerk.

“c’mon, let go, sweet girl. cum. it'll feel so good if you do, and it’ll make me sooo happy,” and he really couldn’t help himself at this point. his lips suction to your clit one last time, pulling away with a wet pop, wasting no time and lifting himself and swallowing your parted lips in a heavy kiss.

his fingers fucked you faster, his thumb moving up to circle your slick clit in place of his unfair mouth. he nibbles your bottom lip with a grin and kisses you so deep with a desire to take you can’t find your breath.

“don't you wanna make me happy, babydoll?” he practically begs into your mouth, and everything inside of you screams to make your heaven of a boyfriend happy. you cum so hard you would’ve thought he was fucking you.

then again, that's how it is with san every single time, and you still haven't gotten tired of it. he just knows what to do, so assertive, so caring, such a man.

coming down from your high, your grip onto his tanktop and bury your face into his neck, huffing and puffing, whining softly as his fingers slowly circle inside of you, working it out as he whispers praises in your ear.

you breathe in the smell of his cologne from the day before, and it makes your stomach tingle. vanilla, whiskey, patchouli, something so intoxicating it's hypnotic. the sun paints his tanned skin a radiant gold, and suddenly you get overwhelmed with the urge to bite him.

you do. he complains with a return bite to your shoulder, and you moan in response. he pauses and licks the bite and smiles, squeezing your waist with anticipation.

you’ve riled him up again.

He stops right in front of your chair, blocking the sun, a breathless, boyish grin plastered on his face.

"Having fun just watching?" he teases, his voice a little raspy from yelling over the music. He leans down, pressing a deliberately cold, wet kiss to your cheek, leaving a damp patch on your skin.

You swallow hard, your eyes involuntarily darting down to the way the wet cotton traces the definition of his torso, leaving absolutely nothing to the imagination. Your heart does a sudden, violent flip.

"Yeah," you manage, your voice a little tighter than usual as you look back up into his dark eyes. "A lot of fun."

He chuckles, entirely oblivious—or maybe entirely aware—of the effect he's having, before being dragged back into the chaos by Seokmin and Mingyu. But for the rest of the afternoon, no matter how loud the guys got, your eyes keep tracking that damp white shirt.

Hours later, the villa finally went quiet. The guys crashed in their respective rooms, exhausted from a day in the sun and a heavy dinner.

You're sitting on the edge of the bed in the room you and Seungcheol share, the cool air conditioning humming softly in the background. The door clicks open, and Seungcheol walks in, freshly showered and wearing nothing but a loose pair of gray sweatpants. His hair is damp again, but this time it smells of the villa’s sharp, clean soap.

He lets out a long sigh of relief, stretching his arms over his head before looking at you. "Man, I love them, but they are exhausting. I'm so glad we finally have some quiet—" he stops mid-sentence, noticing the way your gaze was fixed on him. "What?"

"Nothing," you say quickly, but your eyes betray you, tracing the lines of his chest and stomach, the memory of the wet t-shirt still burning into your mind.

He moves closer, a slow, knowing smile spreading across his face. The air in the room suddenly feels thicker. "No, it's not nothing," he says, his voice lower now. "You've been looking at me like that since this afternoon. Ever since the pool."

Heat floods your cheeks. You open your mouth to deny it, to say something, anything, but he's already closing the distance between you. He kneels in front of you, his hands resting on your knees.

"Tell me," he murmurs, his thumbs stroking slow circles on your skin. "What were you thinking about?"

You swallow, your breath hitching. "The... the wet t-shirt," you admit, the words barely a whisper.

His smile widens, a flicker of pride and amusement in his eyes. "Just the shirt?" he pushes, leaning in until his lips are just a breath away from yours. "Or what was under it?"

You let out a shaky breath. "Both."

"Good," he whispers against your mouth before finally kissing you. It isn't soft. It's deep and hungry, a kiss that's been waiting all day to happen. His hands slide from your knees up your thighs, pulling you to the very edge of the bed.

When he finally pulls back, both of you are breathless. He looks at you, his eyes dark with a question he doesn't need to ask. You answer by reaching for the hem of your own shirt and pulling it over your head in one smooth motion. His gaze drops, and the last of the playful energy in the room evaporates, replaced by something much more intense.

"Much better," he breathes, leaning in to press a trail of kisses down your neck, his hands exploring the newly exposed skin of your waist and back.

"Cheol, the guys—" you start, your head tipping back to give him better access.

"Don't care," he mumbles against your collarbone, his hands moving around to your stomach, tracing the edge of your shorts. "Let them hear. They should know what happens when my girlfriend comes on a trip with me."

You can't help the small laugh that escapes, but it's quickly cut off by a gasp as he lifts you effortlessly, moving you further back on the bed and hovering over you.

He looks down at you, his expression a mixture of adoration and raw desire. "Now, where were we?" he asks, but he doesn't wait for an answer before leaning down to kiss you again, slow and deep, while his hands work to remove the last barriers between your skin and his.

His thumbs hooks into the waistband of your shorts, dragging them down your legs with a deliberate slowness that made your breath catch. The fabric whispers against your skin before being discarded onto the floor. The cool air of the room is a stark contrast to the warmth of his body, and you shivered, though not from the cold.

Seungcheol’s eyes followed the path of his hands as they travels back up your legs, skimming over your knees, your thighs, settling on your hips. He watches you, cataloging every tiny reaction—the way your stomach tightens, the soft sigh that escapes your lips.

His touch is reverent, almost worshipful, as he leans down to press a kiss just below your navel. Then another, lower still, on the sensitive skin of your inner thigh. You tangle your fingers in the damp hair at the nape of his neck, a silent encouragement.

He responds by parting your legs gently, settling between them, as he looks up at you. "I'm okay with you screaming for me, baby," he murmurs, his breath warm against your most sensitive skin. "But if you really need to muffle your screams, we can use your pretty panties." he says before he hooks a finger into your panties, pulling them down your legs. "Love eating you out," he confesses, his voice vibrating against you. He then dives in, eating you out like a starved man.

"Cheol," you gasp, your back arching off the bed as he set a devastating rhythm.

He's relentless, using his tongue, his lips, every part of himself to push you higher. He eats you out with the same focused intensity he applies to everything else, as if making you fall apart is the most important thing in the world. One of his hands slide up your body, finding yours, and your fingers lace together, a grounding anchor in the sea of sensation he's creating.

The sounds you're making are uninhibited now, soft cries and gasps filling the quiet room. You can feel the tension coiling tighter and tighter in your stomach, a delicious, dizzying spiral. "Cheol, I—"

"I know, baby," he mumbles against you, not stopping. "Let go. I've got you."

His words are the final push you need. The tension snaps, and pleasure crashes over you in a blinding wave. You cry out his name, your body shaking as he works you through it, drawing out every last bit of sensation until you're limp and breathless on the bed.

He kisses his way back up your body, pausing to lavish attention on your breasts before finally reaching your lips. The kiss is slow and deep, tasting of you and him.

When he pulls back, he's smiling, a soft, triumphant look in his eyes. He's still wearing those damn gray sweatpants, and you're suddenly overwhelmed with the need to get rid of them.

"You're still wearing too many clothes," you whisper, your hands sliding down his back to the waistband of his sweatpants. He lets out a soft hum of approval as you tug them down, freeing him.

Your eyes widen slightly at the sight of him, hard and ready for you. You wrap your hand around him, stroking him slowly, watching as his head tips back and a low groan rumbles in his chest.

"Fuck," he breathes, his hips bucking slightly into your touch. "Keep doing that and this'll be over before it starts."

You smile, a slow, satisfied smirk. "We can't have that, can we?"

With a strength that never fails to surprise you, he flips you over, pulling your hips up until you're on your hands and knees. He runs a hand over the curve of your ass, a low, appreciative sound in his throat.

"Seungcheol," you breathe, pushing back against him.

"I'm right here, baby," he murmurs, positioning himself at your entrance. He pushes in slowly, a shared gasp filling the room as he stretches and fills you completely. He pauses for a moment, giving you time to adjust, before starting to move.

The pace he set is deep and deliberate, each thrust hitting that perfect spot inside you that makes your toes curl. The sounds of skin slapping against skin fills the room, mingling with your moans and his harsh breaths.

"God, you feel so good," he grits out, one hand gripping the headboard for leverage, the other splayed across your back. "So fucking good."

You can't form words, can only push back against him, meeting him thrust for thrust. The bed's rocking beneath you, the headboard hitting the wall with a soft thud, thud, thud that's a perfect counterpoint to the rhythm he's setting.

You bury your face in the pillows to muffle your cries, his hand skimming up your spine. "I know you feel good baby, but don't forget to breathe," he says, leaning down to press a kiss between your shoulder blades. "I want to hear you."

You turn your head to the side, taking a deep, shaky breath. "Harder, Cheol," you manage to get out. "Please."

Your plea seems to flip a switch in him. The careful control he's been exercising shatters, replaced by a raw, primal need. With a guttural groan, he tightens his grip on your hips and drive into you, the force of it stealing the air from your lungs.

The pace is punishing, a relentless rhythm that has the headboard slamming against the wall with a new, desperate urgency. The sound is loud, unmistakable, and a tiny, hazy part of your brain hopes the villa walls are thicker than they seem. But the rest of you, the part being utterly consumed by Seungcheol, doesn't care at all.

"That what you wanted, baby?" he rasps, his voice straining with the effort. His hands move from your hips, one wrapping around to find your clit, the other tangling in your hair, gently pulling your head back. "You wanted me to fuck you so hard the whole house hears?"

"Yes," you choke out, the word almost unintelligible. "Yes, Cheol, don't stop."

He growls in response, a low, possessive sound from deep in his chest. He doesn't stop. The pressure on your clit is perfect, circling in time with his brutal thrusts, and you can feel yourself hurtling towards the edge again. Your knuckles are white where you're gripping the sheets, your entire body wound tight with anticipation.

"I want you to come for me," he commands, his breath hot against your ear. "Come on my cock, baby. Let me feel you."

His words are your undoing. The world splinters, your vision going white as your orgasm rip through you. You scream into the pillow, your body convulsing with the force of it, your inner walls clamping down around him.

He follows you over the edge seconds later. With a final, deep thrust, he buries himself inside you and come with a hoarse shout of your name. His body shudders against yours, and for a long moment, the only sound in the room is the ragged sound of your breathing as you both come down from the high.

He collapses beside you, pulling you into his arms and spooning you from behind. He's still inside you, a warm, heavy weight that's surprisingly comforting. He presses a soft, lingering kiss to your shoulder.

"You okay?" he murmurs, his voice rough and spent.

You hum contentedly, wiggling back against him. "More than okay," you whisper, turning your head to look at him. His face is flushed, his hair a mess, and he has the most ridiculously satisfied smile on his face.

"Good," he says, kissing you softly. "Because I'm not done with you yet."

And the moment the words leave his mouth, you both hear a banging on the door.

"For the love of God, will you two please shut up!" came Joshua's muffled, but very annoyed, shout from the hallway. "Some of us are trying to sleep!"

Seungcheol just laughs, a deep, rumbling sound that you feel in your own chest. He pulls the covers over both of you, a mischievous glint in his eyes. "Next time, we get a private villa," he whispers. "No friends."

You pull back, narrow your eyes, tilt your head all suspicious:

“Wait… when I’m not here… do you, like… get yourself off?”

San freezes mid–back rub.

“…Huh?”

“Answer. The question.” Your eyes squint even harder.

He sighs, looks away, rubs the bridge of his nose.

“Baby, why would you ask me something like—”

“Cause I wanna know!”

He stares at you… then gives up.

“I watch our tapes.”

“Huh?”

“Our sex tapes.”

“San—”

“And I look at your Instagram pictures.”

“San.”

“And sometimes I screenshot your bikini photos before you delete them.”

“San???”

“And sometimes I use the ones where you’re adjusting your top because you always look flustered and—”

“Stop—”

He keeps going, dead serious, like he’s reading a grocery list:

“And that one video where you’re laughing and your boobs bounce a little? Yeah. That one goes crazy. Top-tier.”

“What????”

“And those mirror selfies where your hair is messy. And the ones where you’re not even trying. Those are the worst.” He shifts under you, already getting hard just thinking about it.

You smack his chest.

“You’re SICK.”

He shrugs.

“I’m in love.”

You slap him harder.

“You’re DEPRAVED.”

Another shrug.

“You’re SEXY.”

You bury your face in your hands, dying.

He gently pulls them away, lowering his voice:

“You asked, baby. You really think I jerk off to random women? No. Everything I do, I do to you.”

He leans in, kissing your cheek, jaw, neck.

“And if you want… I can show you exactly how I do it.”

You slide off his lap just a little, sitting between his knees, eyes wide and way too curious for his sanity.

“…Show me, then.”

San blinks once. Twice. His Adam’s apple jumps.

“…Yeah?” he asks, voice already dropping into that low, dangerous tone.

You nod.

He drags a hand down his face like he knows he’s about to ruin you with this demonstration alone.

“Okay,” he mutters, leaning back into the couch, legs spreading a little, “but don’t— don’t laugh. I’m serious.”

You bite your lip.

He sees it. He groans.

Then he slips a hand under the waistband of his sweats, pulls himself out, already half-hard from the conversation alone. His breaths get shaky, on purpose, because he knows you’re watching.

“Normally…” he starts, eyes flicking to yours, “…I start slow. Just— thinking about you walking around the house, tiny little outfit, pretending you’re not teasing me.”

His thumb glides over the tip spreading the precum, — and he sighs, deep, breathy, borderline whimpering.

You swallow so hard he hears it.

“And then,” he continues, pumping slowly, “I think about how you look when you ride me… all loud and needy…”

You shift on your knees.

He definitely notices.

His lashes flutter, and he lets out a soft, broken “mmh—fuck…”

You scoot closer.

He moans again, high, pretty, shameless, because he’s absolutely doing this on purpose now.

“You like watching me, baby?” he breathes out, jaw clenching, hips lifting into his own hand. “Yeah… you do…”

You nod, dazed.

He groans, throwing his head back for a second, biting his lip dramatically, exaggerating it because he knows it gets you.

Then he looks at you through heavy lids.

“You always make me this hard,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little. “Even when you’re not here.”

Your thighs press together.

He smirks, then lets out another deliberate whimper, soft and choked, like he knows it shoots straight into your bloodstream.

“Come here,” he murmurs, hand stroking himself faster. “If you’re gonna watch… watch up close.”

You crawl into his lap.

He pulls your hand to his stomach— so warm, tense, shaking, and keeps moaning softly, messy and pretty, just for you.

He’s doing all of this on purpose.

You lean in so close he can feel your breath on his throat, eyes glued to every movement of his hand, every twitch of his stomach, every shaky inhale he lets slip.

And San loses his mind over it.

“Jesus…” he whispers, voice cracking when he looks down and sees your face—eyes blown wide, lips parted, studying him like he’s something you want to taste. “You’re really watching me like this…?”

You nod slowly. His chest stutters.

He bites his lip so hard a muscle in his jaw jumps.

“That’s— fuck— this is the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” he mutters, voice warm and breathless. He spreads his legs wider, giving you a better view, pumping his hand a little harder… slower… letting you see everything. “You’re looking at me like you wanna eat me alive.”

“San,” you breathe. His eyes darken instantly.

“Oh my god…” he laughs under his breath, ruined already, “you’re obsessed with me.”

Your face heats.

He cups your chin with his free hand, forcing you to hold eye contact while the other keeps stroking, wet and filthy and slow enough to make your stomach twist.

“You like how I do it?” he whispers. You nod. His smile is evil.

“You like seeing what I do when you’re not home?” Another nod.

His grip tightens. His thighs flex under you.

“Y’know what I think about?” he murmurs, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. “You. On your knees. Mouth open. Eyes like that. Waiting for me.”

Your breath catches.

He groans. 

“Keep watching,” he says, voice low and trembly. “Don’t look away. Not once.”

You don’t.

Your eyes track the movement of his hand, the veins on his forearm, the way his stomach tightens every time he pumps upward. He notices. He feels your stare. It makes him moan again—soft, involuntary, almost shy.

You whisper, barely audible:

“…You look so hot.”

He chokes on a breath. His hips jerk.

And his voice drops even lower, wrecked and proud and starving:

“Say that again.”

You whisper it again, slower. “So fucking hot.”

You slide closer—slow, curious, innocent in that way that makes his whole body seize up—and tilt your head.

“Can I help…?”

His hand falters on himself, eyes snapping to yours like you just offered him the cure to every problem he’s ever had.

“…yeah,” he whispers, voice already breaking, “yeah—baby, c’mere.”

Your smaller hand slips under his, replaces his stroke. The second your skin touches him he whimpers—a real one, sharp and desperate, right against your neck.

“Oh—fuck—” His head drops to your shoulder. He’s trembling.

He grabs your wrist gently, guiding your rhythm, but you’re already doing it exactly how he likes—soft at the base, tight at the top, twisting up just a little—

“Baby,” he gasps, breath hitting your collarbone, “you’re—fuck—you’re so good at this—”

His hips buck into your palm. His hand is gripping your thigh, hard enough to bruise.

You look up at him through your lashes and his knees actually shake.

“That’s it,” you whisper, teasing, “you like when I do it?”

He moans. A pretty, broken, breathy sound right into your ear.

“I love—when you—help me—god—fuuuck” He’s collapsing, chest heaving, face flushed, thighs tense beneath you. The wet slick sound of your hand working him faster fills the room and he completely loses the last bit of control he had.

“Y/N—baby—oh my god I’m gonna cum—”

You tighten your grip, stroke him exactly how he likes—

His whole body jerks—

He lets out the most ruined groan you’ve ever heard—

And he finishes right into your hand, warm and messy and so much more than you expected.

He collapses into you, panting into your shoulder, completely melted.

Your sticky hand is still resting on him when he finally breathes again.

“…you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice wrecked, trembling all over. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”

You hold your hand up— dripping.Absolutely covered in him. A warm, glossy mess. Your eyes go wide on purpose.

“…San.”

He looks up from your shoulder, dazed, hair a mess, breaths still shaking.

And you wiggle your fingers.

“Look at this! You're. SO. Desperate.”

His whole face flushes scarlet.

“Baby—” he groans, grabbing your wrist to hide the evidence, “don’t… don’t say it like that…”

But you lean back, smirking like the menace you are.

“You made a huge mess. This is—San, this is ridiculous. You couldn’t even hold it for a second??”

He hides his face in your neck, mortified, whining like a grown man being scolded.

“You can’t tease me after what you just did to me,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, “I warned you—I told you I was close—you kept going—baby, you know what you were doing—”

“No,” you say, faking innocence, showing your sticky palm again, “you’re nasty. Nasty. Look at this.”

He pulls your wrist down, panicked.

“Stop showing it to me!” His voice cracks. “I know what I did!”

You laugh so hard he swats your thigh lightly, embarrassed, still breathless.

Then he looks up at you—eyes heavy, lips parted, totally ruined—and mutters:

“…clean your hand before you start teasing me again or I swear I’ll make an even bigger mess.”

OH.

You grab a warm towel and clean him up gently, slow little wipes that make him flinch because he’s still sensitive.

You purposely kiss the tip softly just to watch him jolt.

“Y/N—!” You kiss it again..

He slaps a hand over his face. “Stop… you’re gonna kill me…”

You hop off the bed, still glowing, still smug, and go to the mirror. You clean yourself up too—wiping your mouth, fixing your hair—

But then curiosity hits.

You look at your fingers. You look at him in the reflection. You drag your tongue over them.

Slow. Purposeful.

San’s jaw drops.

“…that tastes kinda good. Somebody changed their diet. Good boy.”

His ears turn red.

“Why would you DO that?!”

You shrug in the mirror, wiping your lips.

“I was curious.”

“That’s not— you can’t just— you—” He’s literally malfunctioning.

Then, quieter, almost proud:

“…but yeah, I did start eating more fruit.”

You grin.

“Mm. I noticed.”

He hides under a pillow. Absolutely finished.

Masterlist

When you part for air, Yoongi grins, full gums on display. “My name didn’t change, you know.” 

You kiss him again. “Whatever, don’t kill the moment,” you sigh, wrapping your arms around his neck, but then you yawn, loudly. Yoongi gives you a look. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day!” 

“I’m not arguing that.” Yoongi yawns as well, stretching his arms. You’ve both been up since near dawn, preparing for your wedding day, which was technically yesterday by an hour now. You’re worn out, but you’ve never been happier about it. 

“But it is our wedding night, so…” 

Yoongi hums. He wraps his arms around you and shuffles the two of you back towards the bedroom of the honeymoon suite. “Maybe we compromise.”

“Yeah?’ you ask, intrigued. “What are you suggesting?”

At the foot of the bed, he kisses you again. “I want to be close to you tonight, and unwind, too. Maybe we get in bed and you cockwarm me for a little?” 

Anytime you’ve cockwarmed Yoongi in the past, it either ended in slow, sleepy sex, or the two of you falling asleep with him still inside. Either way, you’re happy. 

“Look at us, compromising like a good married couple. We’re already winning the game.” 

Your husband laughs. He takes off his tux jacket, then works at the cuff links on his shirt sleeves. “If you say so, dear.” 

“See? Another point for you, knowing to always agree with me.” 

“My wife,” Yoongi marvels, shaking his head. “I can’t believe I finally get to call you my wife. I’m gonna be the most annoying wife guy ever.” 

“Oh, I know you are. Why do you think I said yes?” 

“My charming personality and amazing looks,” Yoongi replies. He steps out of his pants, hanging them over an armchair. “Obviously.”

“Nah, it was mostly that tongue of yours,” you state with a grin, gesturing for him to come back over to you. You turn your back to Yoongi so he can unzip your gown. 

His touch is reverent, fingers moving slowly as he takes in the lingerie you have on beneath. “Pretty,” he whispers, brushing his hand down your back. 

“Thought you’d like it.” It’s just a simple lace bodysuit, with garters stretching down to the top of your stockings, but it’s elegant, and makes you feel sexy as hell.

“I do like it.” He presses his lips to the back of your neck. “You know me so well.” His arms wind around your waist, and he hugs you to him for a moment. “My beautiful wife,” he whispers. 

You’re too tired to take your makeup off or shower, but you do take a minute to brush your teeth, side by side with Yoongi in the bathroom. He keeps glancing at you in the mirror, making you giggle each time he gets caught, raising his eyebrows suggestively. He’s silly, and he’s yours, for the rest of your lives.

He takes his boxer briefs off, and you move to undress, but he stops you. “Please, let me.” 

“Oh, such a helpful husband,” you chirp, nodding. “Please, be my guest.” 

Yoongi leans in, kissing you with one hand on your chin. His other hand snaps the garter on your left thigh. 

“Ah!” 

As you exclaim, he unhooks the strap, then undoes the other. Then he reaches around you, fingers working the fastener on the back of the bodysuit while kissing you. His tongue distracts you for a moment, and then you feel his fingers sliding your straps down your arms. 

The top folds down far enough to expose your chest. Yoongi’s mouth is there immediately, trailing soft kisses over the swell of your breasts. “So beautiful,” he murmurs, rolling his thumb over one of your nipples. The little nub hardens beneath his clever fingers. 

He continues to slide the lacy material down your torso, following the path of bare skin down, until he’s on his knees, pulling the bodysuit down your legs, taking your stockings with it. Then he places his hands on your thighs, and tilts his mouth up to press a tiny kiss above your mound. 

“Can’t wait for breakfast.” 

“You’re shameless,” you laugh, rolling your eyes, but your neck is burning anyway. If you both weren’t so tired, you know your husband would have his tongue buried inside you right now. But he’ll make it up to you in the morning. “Get in bed already.” 

He makes himself comfortable, reclining back on a pillow, propped against the headboard. He’s half-hard, tugs lightly on his cock a few times as you join him. 

“Want some help with that?” 

You make out with your husband while giving him a slow hand job. Teasing him a little by stopping every now and then only makes him harder. He’s a man who appreciates delayed gratification. 

Once he’s fully erect, you slip into his lap, arranging yourself so you’re straddling him, face-to-face. In this position, you can lean against him, with your head on his shoulder and his arms wrapped around your back. It’s your favorite way to cockwarm him. Nowhere on Earth feels as safe as Yoongi’s arms. 

You’re wet, but not quite wet enough for his cock yet, so you finger yourself a little, spreading your wetness around. Yoongi helps, adding his fingers. He rubs his cock with your arousal, and aims the head at your opening. 

“I think you’re ready for me.” 

You sink down on him slowly, pausing a few times to tamp down the wave of arousal threatening to build. Yoongi’s fingering got you a little more excited than you should be for cockwarming, so this might end up being a bit of a test of your skills. 

But it’s worth it. 

When you’re fully seated on his cock, he holds his arms out, and you sag against him with a happy sigh. 

He kisses your forehead. “Tell me one thing you loved about today.” 

You smile, pressing your lips into the side of his neck. “Besides marrying you?” 

“Besides the best moment of your life, yes.” 

“So humble.” 

“It was the best moment of my life, too.” 

“Good save,” you laugh. Yoongi twitches as your breath brushes his ear, and his cock jumps inside you. You let out a little moan. “Don’t do that.” 

“Sorry. But yeah, tell me something else.” 

He must not be quite ready for sleep. You fall silent, reflecting on the day you’ve had. “Your face when you saw me in my gown.” That was a moment you’ll cherish forever, the expression of awe on Yoongi’s face. Awe, and devotion. 

“Mmm,” he hums. You place a hand on his chest to feel the rumble of his voice as he speaks. “You took my breath away.” 

“I love you.”

“I love you too.” 

You’re both quiet after that. His rhythmic breathing begins to lull you to sleep, until he clears his throat. 

“The moment that the officiant said we were husband and wife, and everyone cheered - I think that was my favorite,” he informs you. He relaxes his arms a little, shifting you in his lap. “I'm sorry to move, my hip is at a bad angle.”

“It’s okay.” His cock is starting to relax inside you as Yoongi gets sleepy, losing his full erection, so the movement doesn’t bother you much. “That was a good moment, too.” 

He hums in agreement. You’re too tired to try to get anything started now. It won’t be much longer before you fall asleep, if the yawn that escapes you is any indication. 

“Sorry, it’s really hitting me now.” 

Yoongi shushes you. His hand rubs your back in slow, comforting circles. “Don’t fight it. Just relax with me.” 

Your breathing syncs with his. Your eyes refuse to open. As you begin to drift away, you hear him mumble one more time.

Since you were in the water, you could only watch him. You didn't dare bring a book in or near the water, and your phone was sitting safe and sound in the locker room, so you literally had nothing to do. Well, you did have your imagination to keep you entertained, which was running wild the longer you watched Jongho swim around.

He swam over to you and fully submerged himself in the water before resurfacing and brushing his hair out of his face. You watched his biceps flex as he slicked back his hair, and you saw his chest move somewhat heavily as he let out a deep exhale. Your insides flipped and tumbled when you saw how fucking sexy he looked, and you yourself felt winded just beholding his devilish good looks.

"Honey, aren't you hot just sitting here?" Jongho asked as he leaned against the edge of the pool, his arm resting on the ledge. "The water is so nice and cool— you should at least try swimming."

"I'm okay..." you barely managed to say. "Just watching you is enough."

"I know you're in the shade, but I feel like it's just hotter sitting here," Jongho continued to try and convince you to swim.

"It is really hot..." you murmured.

You spaced out, your eyes lingering on his refined muscles and his broad shoulders. Jongho seemed to still be talking to you, but all you could really focus on was the way the water lapped around his naked torso. How you wouldn't give to be pressed right against him, his arms wrapping securely around you, his waist pressing against yours. You desperately needed him against you, but there was no way you were going to be able to tell him that with a straight face.

"Honey?"

"Uh-huh..."

"What's going on with you?"

"Uh-huh..."

Jongho had it at that point. He stood right in front of you and snapped his fingers in front of your face, finally bringing you back to reality. Seeing him that close to you made your entire body jolt, and your fingers and toes tingled the closer he got to you. You were so ready to just fall over when he brought the back of his hand to your face.

"Oh God, your face is flushed, but you don't seem to have a fever... Maybe we should head back inside. I think the sun may be getting to you."

"It's not the sun getting to me, though," you whispered when Jongho grabbed your arm and turned around to drag you out of the pool.

He froze and he faced you once more. He walked forward quickly, making you scurry backwards until your back was pressing against the wall. Jongho pinned you in place, his chest extremely close to yours.

"What's going on, honey?" Jongho asked in a low voice.

You nearly shivered— Jongho sounded so hot whenever he dropped the octave of his voice. You were practically drowning in horny hormones at that point. Shifting uncomfortably, you whispered, "I... Uh..."

You felt your face get hotter as you thought about the things you wanted to ask him shamelessly.

I want you to fuck me senseless. I want you to use me and abuse me until I can't stand anymore. I want you to remind me who I belong to and make sure I never forget.

However, those crude words would never leave your mouth— at least not sober. Thankfully, Jongho seemed to finally catch onto what was going through your mind, a smirk, crossing his face. He closed the distance between you and actually pressed his chest against yours. He leaned into you, his lips near your ear.

"If you want that, you can just ask, honey."

"You know I can't shamelessly ask like that... I'm too shy..."

"Sure, that's why you were staring at me like a piece of meat or something. Don't think I didn't notice the way you were looking at me while I was swimming."

Jongho's hands moved down to your waist. He held you with a firm grasp as he nuzzled his face into the nook of your neck, his lips occasionally pressing against your flushed skin. You held onto his shoulders and let out soft sighs as you felt his kisses trail along the curve of your neck down to your shoulder.

"If you knew, then why didn't you say anything?" you whined slightly.

"I wanted to see you squirm, honey. It's not fun if I don't get to tease you."

Jongho's hands went from your waist to your ass, his fingers pressing into your skin and making your bottoms ride up a little as he pulled upwards. You let out pleasureful sigh after pleasureful sigh the more he peppered kisses all over your upper body and the more he felt you up. Your grip on his shoulders got weaker when you felt his waist press against yours, electricity running through your body when you felt his hard on prod through his swim shorts.

"Now, honey, do you want to tell me what you want me to do to you, or would you like me to order you around like the cum slut you are?" Jongho whispered gruffly into your ear once his lips made their way back up.

"The latter please."

Jongho pulled away from you, and you saw his eyes darken. His jaw momentarily tensed before he pressed his lips feverishly against yours, sweeping you away into a world of bliss. Your fingers ran through his hair as you moved your hands from his shoulders to the back of his neck. The two of you kept making impatient sighs and grunts in between each sloppy kiss, the water around you beginning to move a little more as you both got antsier. It was when Jongho's fingers pushed the waistband of your bottoms down did you break off the infinite chain kisses and look at him with helpless, half-lidded eyes.

"Get out of the pool now," Jongho ordered.

You did as he said as quickly as possible, the man following closely behind. You didn't know where to go, so you stopped and looked around, only for Jongho to grab your arm and lead you to the lounge chairs near the edge of the pool. He sat down first before pulling you towards him, making you straddle him. You held onto his shoulders and lowered your ass onto his knees as he held your neck and pulled you back in to shove his tongue down your throat.

Jongho's fingers pressed into your neck, making you slightly light-headed as he continued to kiss you so rashly that you had absolutely no time to breathe. You felt like you were going to pass out, but you knew that there was no way Jongho was going to take it so far.

At some point, Jongho did have to let go of your neck so that he could remove your bikini. He untied your top first, his fingers brushing the nape of your neck as he released the strings. Your top flopped forward as Jongho ran his finger down your spine, making you arch your back slightly. He made quick work of the remaining strings, the top completely falling with a slosh. He then ran his hands along the curve of your waist before pushing down the waistband of your bottoms once more. He was only able to move the wet fabric over your ass and tuck it under since you were still kneeling on either side of him.

"Take them off."

You nodded and stood up. Both your top and bottoms fell to the ground, Jongho quickly slipping his own swim shorts off in the process. Before you could go back to straddling the man, he leaned forward and grabbed both of your arms. Your back continued to face him as he pulled you backwards, your ass landing on his thick thighs as you sat down, your legs still firmly on the ground.

That's when you realized Jongho read your fucking mind earlier.

"Sit on my cock, honey," he told you as you felt his cock twitch and press against your back.

Jongho still had both of your arms behind your back, so while you moved up, Jongho held his thick cock in place. You felt the tip rub against your wet folds, and once he was right at your entrance, you sat down slowly. You felt your walls spread wide as you lowered yourself on him, a deep sigh escaping your lungs as you felt him fill you up.

"Mmm, fuck," Jongho groaned blissfully. "Now move for me, why don't you?"

With shaky legs, you managed to start moving on his cock. At first, you were worried about Jongho fucking you on the poolside out in the open where anyone could see; luckily for the two of you, there wasn't a single soul around, nor was there a camera in sight— plus, with the added protection of the umbrella above you, you had no reason to worry. That being said, you still tried to keep your erotic noises to a minimum while Jongho, on the other hand, didn't give a tiny rat's ass about how loud he was.

You seemed to be moving too slowly for him— you could only move so fast because every time you sat down on his lap, you wanted to remain seated because your legs could barely support you at that point. So, Jongho thrust his hips upwards suddenly, making you cry out.

"F-Fuck, Jongho!" you choked out as he continuously rammed his hips upwards into yours without mercy, your voice wavering when you felt him reach over your thigh and between your legs to brush his fingers against your sore clit. "Y-You're going so fast!"

"Don't you dare tell me to slow down," Jongho chuckled. "I thought you wanted this."

"I do! Fuck me harder, Jongho!"

Jongho released your arms from his grasp and pushed you up, making you whimper as his cock left your body. He quickly moved you so that you were kneeling on the lounge chair before shoving his cock quickly inside you once more. His waist slammed into yours hard, making you go from your hands to your elbows immediately.

Your sanity completely left you as Jongho quite literally fucked your brains out. You were moaning and crying loudly with every thrust while occasionally yelping whenever you felt the palm of his hand make intense contact with your ass.

"You like that, don't you?" Jongho teased you as he slapped your ass again.

You nodded and hummed in approval before you pressed your lips together and dropped your head down. However, Jongho didn't like that. He grabbed the back of your head and pulled, making you move your head up. He forced you to keep your head up as he continued to rut into you powerfully, the slaps of his waist against yours starting to get drowned out by the sound of blood rushing to your ears.

"J-Jongho!" you sobbed as you felt his cock brush against your G-spot so many times that you felt your orgasm building. "I'm c-close!"

Jongho immediately pulled out, two of his fingers going in their place. He fingered you quickly and roughly, the curve of his fingers inside you too much to handle. You cried out loudly as his fingers fucked you just right, making you cum hard. Your legs trembled, and your ass shook in the air as you squirt all over Jongho's hand, legs, and the lounge chair beneath you.

Without giving you a chance to properly recover, Jongho slid his cock back inside you, and he continued hammering away into your sensitive cunt. You could hear his own groans getting higher in pitch, and you could feel his pace begin to slow down but his power remained the same.

"You want me to fill you up, don't you?" Jongho grunted out. "You're just my little cum slut, aren't you?"

"Yes, I am, Jongho," you whined. "Cum inside me, please."

Jongho didn't need to be told twice. Grabbing your waist, he thrust into you several more times quickly before groaning loudly. You felt his cock twitch and throb inside you as his cum spurt out quickly, filling you with his white seed. When Jongho pulled his cock out, he spread your ass wide to watch his cum leak out and trail down your leg, making his shiver and slowly get hard again.

"Fuck, honey," Jongho chuckled. "Wear your suit, and let's get out of here. I'm not done fucking you just yet."

You and Jongho were getting lunch in between classes. The two of you usually talked about classes during your break, and that day, you decided to bring up the last group project that you worked on. Jongho had to carry his team while you ended up having a blast with your own, making him all the more salty.

“Yeah, but that’s no reason to make her cry,” you pointed out.

“It’s her fault for not doing the work.”

“Jongho, she was your girlfriend. You didn’t have to be so mean.”

“Was, thank God,” Jongho let out a sigh of relief. “Honestly this whole dating thing is such bullshit— I just want to get my degree and get out of here.”

“Wow. How romantic,” you said sarcastically and rolled your eyes.

“Shut up,” Jongho retorted while throwing a fry at your face. “It’s your fault I was dating her in the first place.”

“I said go on one date with her. No one told you to ask her to be your girlfriend.”

“Yeah, well… Shut up.”

You shrugged, a smug smile appearing on your face as you realized that you won that argument. Jongho took a bite of his burger, annoyance written all over his face as you rubbed your smug smile. Jongho chose to fully ignore you at that point, making you turn to your phone to see that you were going to be late for your next class if you didn’t haul your ass out of there.

“Hey, I gotta go. I’ll see you tonight?” you asked him.

“Yeah. See ya,” Jongho responded with a nod and a light wave.

There was a Tuesday night tradition you, Jongho, and a couple other friends from school had— Trivia Night. One of your other friends worked at the bar that hosted the trivia, which is how you came to know of it in the first place.

That being said, even though you went for trivia, you guys never actually played. It was more of an excuse to go drinking in the middle of the week than anything, which meant every Tuesday, you and your friends were drinking way too much and screwing yourselves over for classes the next day.

“Hey, Joong!” you said, your words staring to slur together. “Let’s do a shot together.”

“Yeah! All of us!” your friend, Mingi, added as he hugged you from behind.

“Fine, last round, and then I’m sending you home,” Hongjoong replied while rolling his eyes, a playful smile on his face.

“Good idea. Y/N’s been getting a little handsy with me,” another friend, Yunho, said as he brushed your straying hand off his thigh— you couldn’t help it; you were an affectionate drunk.

The five of you clinked glasses and took your shots, Yunho and Jongho doing it with ease while you and Mingi made faces as the liquor burned your throats.

“Hey, so did you guys look into your classes for next semester?” Jongho asked.

“Not yet,” Yunho shook his head. “I’m guessing you have?”

“Yeah. We have to take the senior colloquium, so why don’t we all try for the same time and recitation? Keep us sane in our last semester of college.”

“Alright, that sounds good,” you giggled and hugged Jongho. “It’ll be fun to have a final class together.”

Mingi settled for nodding while also giggling. Jongho wanted to talk about the matter further, but you and Mingi were just far too gone to have a proper conversation at that point, so he just settled for talking to the group about it when you all were sober.

You were still clinging to Jongho as he sat quietly and thought about classes while sipping his beer, your head on his shoulder, your arms wrapped tightly around his waist. You couldn’t help but stare at him as he was lost deep in thought, and your drunk self thought it was the perfect time to nuzzle your nose in his neck.

“Alright, we’re going home,” Jongho immediately declared.

“What? Why?” you complained as Jongho got out of your embrace and grabbed your arm to put over his shoulder.

“Because you’re done.”

“How do you figure?”

“Because I know. Let’s go home before you yak on the bar again,” Jongho shut you down and started dragging you out of the bar. “Yunho, let me know how much we owe you after you close the tab.”

“Will do!” Yunho responded cheerfully as he watched Jongho drag you away.

“Bye Yuyu, Mango, Joong!” you managed to say before leaving the establishment.

The walk home was atrocious for Jongho. You refused to walk in a straight line and kept trying to pull him towards any bar that you passed, and at some point, Jongho had enough and made you get on his back so he could piggyback you back to your apartment. His patience was wearing thinner as you started playing with his hair and tickling his neck, but you were his best friend, and you were drunk out of your fucking mind, so he was going to be there for you.

By the time Jongho got you home, you were practically falling asleep on his back— he had a very comfy back, not going to lie. He put you down right in front of your door, but instead of reaching for your keys, you slumped onto him, his chest catching you before you went tumbling down.

And then, you blacked out.

You woke up the next morning with a horrible hangover and absolutely no memory of how you got back from the bar in the first place— you remembered Jongho walking you home, but how you ended up in your bed was a complete mystery to you. There was a nagging feeling in the back of your mind, that you did something you shouldn’t have, but you couldn’t for the life of you figure out what it was, nor did you have the time to ponder it because you had to get your ass out of bed and onto campus.

Your first class was absolute torture, your headache intensifying as the lecture went on and on, and by the time the class was over, you were ready to fall over. You trudged out of the classroom to see your friends waiting for you— they usually waited for you after your Wednesday morning class so that all four of you could grab lunch— Yunho immediately pulling you in for a hug.

“You look like shit,” he commented while hugging you.

“Wow, really? I had no idea,” you responded with heavy sarcasm.

“What the fuck happened to you last night for you to look like this?” Mingi asked. 

“I have no fucking clue,” you groaned. “All I remember is leaving the bar…”

But, your statement was drowned out by Mingi as he dramatically grabbed his chest and gasped, “Did you and Jongho go and drink more without us?!”

“Yeah, no. Y/N was too wasted for that,” Jongho shook his head. “I took her home directly.”

“I guess the hangover is only hitting so hard because I’m not as young as I used to be,” you sighed loudly.

“…We’re all in our early twenties. Shut up,” Yunho said while rolling his eyes.

“I dunno man, Jongho acts like an old man a lot,” Mingi said with a slight giggle. “I think he’s in his eighties.”

As the three boys bickered, your mind lingered on Jongho’s words. He took you home directly, and you remembered that, but… How the hell did you get into your apartment? And why was the weird feeling still lingering?

“Hey,” you pulled Jongho out of the argument and to the side, the two tall men still walking without realizing you and Jongho were no longer walking with them. “Can we talk?”

“Sure,” Jongho agreed, the two of you moving to the side of the hallway.

“Did… Did something happen last night?” you asked. “Because I have this nagging feeling that I did something, but I… I don’t know what.” 

“Don’t worry about it, and just sleep it off,” Jongho replied. “Look, I gotta get to class. I’ll talk to you later, okay?”

“Right, yeah, okay…” you trailed off as Jongho left you standing there more confused than ever.

Because what did he mean by “don’t worry about it”? What the fuck did you do last night?

You decided to take matters into your own hands. After you were done with classes for the day, you went straight to the bar because, Goddammit, you needed answers or at least some clarity.

“Joong!” you called loudly the second you got into the bar. “I have a question for you!”

You plopped yourself down on one of the bar stools and looked at the bartender, a determined glint in your eye, but a heavy sigh on your lips.

“Geez, you look like shit,” Hongjoong commented on your appearance the second he stood in front of you.

“That seems to be the general consensus today… Ugh, anyway. Did I do something wrong last night?”

“What?” Hongjoong’s face twisted in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Like… Okay, I feel like I did something I shouldn’t have done last night,” you explained. “And I’m trying to figure it out.”

“You were fine here— well, you were shit-faced, and Jongho took you home, and that’s about it,” the bartender recollected. “You didn’t do anything outta pocket.”

“Okay… I still feel like… I’m missing something,” you grumbled to yourself, but the man could still hear you.

“Why don’t you ask Jongho since he walked you home last night?”

“See, I tried doing that, but he told me “don’t worry about it”,” you said, exasperated, while using air quotes. “What the fuck does that mean— What should I not worry about?!”

“I don’t know!” Hongjoong held his arms up as if you were holding him at gunpoint and demanding answers. “The only thing I can say is ask him again, or maybe sleep on it, and it’ll come to you.”

“So helpful,” you couldn’t help but be sarcastic. “Fine, I’ll sleep on it. Thanks for the help, Joong.”

You got off the stool and were about to head for the exit when the bartender asked, “So you’re not going to get a drink?”

“Are you fucking kidding— No! Bye, Joong!”

“Hey, Jongho?”

The two of you were sitting on your couch— Jongho came over after he finished his classes for the day.

“What’s up?”

“Are you sure I didn’t do anything that night?” you asked him, your voice slightly wavering.

“I told you not to worry about it,” he responded with a sigh.

“No, but I’m going to worry about it because I want to know!” you exclaimed. “You being all vague and shit about it just makes me more concerned, and I just need you to tell me for my own sanity.”

Jongho let out yet another sigh. He looked straight at you, his eyes meeting yours. You never realized how pretty his eyes were until you made proper eye contact, and the bigger his eyes got, the prettier they became. Then, you realized that his eyes were not getting bigger, but he was moving closer to you. You leaned backwards, your back hitting the arm rest as he pinned you against it, his light exhale flitting past your cheek.

“You really want to know?” he asked, his voice lower and softer than usual.

“I… I do. I do want to know.”

Shocks ran through your body when he caressed your face lightly, his dainty fingertips rubbing lightly against your ear. He leaned in closer to you, making you squeeze your eyes shut since you assumed that he was going to kiss you. Instead, he whispered in your ear, “You told me you loved me.”

He leaned away, allowing you to look at him with complete and utter shock. You tried to brush off the tension building in the room and between your legs as you responded as light-heartedly as you could, “But I always tell you that I love you.”

“Yes, but…” Jongho placed his hand on your thigh and slowly moved it upwards, his voice dropping even lower. “Last night, you told me that you meant it, that you were in love with me.”

Your jaw dropped. Your eyes darted back and forth, and your heart rate picked up as you tried to make sense of the situation— his words, his actions, and your body’s reactions.

“I— I did?” you whispered.

“Yes, and then,” Jongho’s voice also hushed to a whisper as he leaned close to you once more, his hand going further along your thigh, nearing your crotch. “You kissed me.”

“I… I— I,” you stammered, not a single coherent thought left in your brain.

Your brain only got emptier when you felt his soft lips against yours, your body immediately melting into his comfortable touch. You reciprocated his kiss, your hands unconsciously moving from his shoulders to his neck, bringing you closer to him. Your body lurched towards his when you felt his hand move around to your ass, the man firmly cupping it while his other hand slipped under your shirt and traced the curve of your waist, a soft moan playing on your lips.

“Just admit it,” he said softly with his lips still pressed against yours. “You love me, and I love you, too.”

His teeth got a hold of your lower lip and tugged it upwards as his hand started kneading your breast, making you gasp. Then, his patience started wearing thin. He lifted your shirt and moved your bra up to reveal your breasts, his mouth immediately going right for your nipple, and as he sucked, his hands pulled your pants down to reveal your soaking cunt. You were moaning loudly at that point, Jongho’s name barely rolling off your tongue.

When Jongho slipped his slender fingers into you, your entire body reacted. Your back arched, your toes curled, and your hands ran through his hair and gripped it tightly, his fingers pleasuring you greatly. He kept curling them inside you, searching for your G-spot, and once he found it, you cried loudly and sat up in bed.

In bed?

You looked around. Jongho was nowhere to be found, and you were in bed, awake. What the fuck… was that? You blinked the sleep out of your eyes and shifted in bed, only to feel something wet between your legs. You lifted your duvet to see that you were sitting on clean sheets, but soaking up your panties was your arousal.

Did you seriously just have a sex dream about your best friend?

You were mortified with yourself. For the rest of that week, you avoided Jongho like the plague because every single time you saw him, guilt pricked at your skin, brain, and heart. How could you dream of your best friend like that and then see him in the same way ever again? How were you supposed to act normal around him?

And so, you avoided the shit out of him. Seriously. You made sure to use the other exit from your classroom so that you wouldn’t have to deal with the group walking with you, and you ditched all of your regular spots because, fuck, you had no idea how you were going to be normal around him when you couldn’t even be normal with yourself before sleeping.

Because, truth is, that dream did something to you. Any time Jongho popped into your mind, your cunt would clench, and your body would rush with heat; and if you thought about him at night, you desperately had to do something about it. So, basically, every night, you were touching yourself while thinking about your friend— your best friend. What the fuck was wrong with you?

You were forced to meet with the group on Tuesday— Yunho left you a very long, very angry, very drunk voicemail telling you that if you didn’t show up on Tuesday, he was going to murder you. You doubted him, but when you heard Jongho and Mingi try to hold him back in the voicemail, you decided it wasn’t worth risking it.

You and Mingi were the first ones there, the two of you sitting in awkward silence as Hongjoong served you your drinks.

“Okay, um, what the fuck is wrong with you?” Mingi asked after taking a solid sip of his beer.

“W-What do you mean?”

“You’ve been avoiding us all fucking week! Did we do something wrong, or like, do you hate us or—”

“Oh my God, Mingi, no,” you immediately assured the guy. “I wasn’t trying to avoid all of you! Just…”

“Just what?”

“I was avoiding Jongho…”

“What the fuck? Why?” Mingi’s tone went from accusatory to worried and sympathetic, making you relax a little bit.

“Okay, so, uh… The other night… I… I may or may not have had a sex dream about Jongho… And when I woke up, I just… I got super turned on.”

“Wait, was it a wet dream?”

“I don’t know… Can girls even have wet dreams?”

“Well… Sounds like a wet dream to me,” Mingi answered after pondering the idea for a little.

“Great. Either way, I can’t even look at him the same way anymore. Fucking kill me,” you groaned as you laid your head on the bar top.

“Wait, so why’d you even dream about it?”

“I don’t know, man! I’ve been friends with the guy for fucking years, and this is the first time I’ve ever dreamt about him like that— and what’s worse is that he was so fucking good in my dream! Ugh, I wanna die!”

Mingi, who found the whole ideal hysterical, was laughing his ass off as he watched you get more and more mortified by the second.

“Did you ever figure out what happened that night, Y/N?” Hongjoong entered the conversation, making Mingi’s laughter die down a little.

“No,” you sulked. “I never got the chance to ask him again… I asked him in that dream, though.”

That made Mingi laugh all over again. He was clutching his stomach and laughing until he started crying, and he continued to laugh his ass off even when Yunho arrived. Well, he was still laughing, but he was able to wheeze to Yunho, “Dude, listen to this—”

“Mango, shut the fuck up!” you kicked Mingi in the shin, although that did nothing to the guy.

“Y/N had a random sex dream about Jongho!” Mingi barely said before laughing all over again.

“Really?” Yunho asked— he didn’t seem surprised, though.

“Yeah,” you said sadly.

“Well, I guess it makes sense that you’d have a sex dream about him considering what you did,” Yunho pondered out loud.

Mingi stopped laughing, and you, Hongjoong, and Mingi all stared at the tall man, Hongjoong asking, “What the fuck did she do?”

“She kissed him.”

The three of you stared at Yunho with wide eyes and dropped jaws.

“What?!”

“Yeah, Jongho told me about it.”

Your brain, at that point, was erroring out as it tried to recollect the events of that night while Mingi, on the other hand, was so insulted.

“You knew about this and didn’t tell me?!” he asked, feigning injury.

“I thought he told you! What do you want me to do about it?”

“Just check in with me next time! We should share everything with each other, Yunho.”

Yunho and Mingi continued to bicker in the background as you finally, finally, remembered what happened that night.

“Y/N, you’re home,” he said quietly while standing you upright. “Where are your keys?”

“In my pocket," you said with a slight giggle— the jeans you had on actually had front pockets, so you usually stashed your keys in there so you wouldn’t have to wear a purse when you had those jeans on.

With a sigh, Jongho carefully dug into your pocket, his fingers lightly grazing your upper thigh. You couldn’t help but let out a little moan; his action was so minimal and unintentional, but it still felt fucking good. God, you were definitely wasted.

Then, a crazy thought entered your drunken brain. You realized that you needed to thank Jongho for getting you home safe. Granted, it was his job as your best friend (not really, but what are friends for?) to make sure you made it home, but you still had to thank him, right? So, right after Jongho unlocked your door and opened it for you, you grabbed him by the collar, and you thanked him by kissing him.

To be honest, it was the world’s most anti-climactic kiss. Your lips just pressed against his, and that was it. When you moved away, you could see that Jongho was in complete shock, his jaw dropped slightly. His eyes were darting back and forth as he tried to decipher what the fuck you just did. His hands, which were previously on your shoulders, dropped to the side, limp.

That’s when you made the situation worse. You pulled him towards you again and kissed him properly. It was a gentle kiss, your lips enveloping his upper lip, your hand moving from his collar to his neck to make the kiss the slightest bit more sensual. And, to your surprise, you felt his hands on your waist. He reciprocated the kiss, bringing his body closer to yours as he kissed you more passionately. You were practically melting in his arms the longer he kissed you, your brain officially erroring out as you lost yourself in him.

When the chain of kisses ended, you found yourself dazed. You truly didn’t know what to say or do, so you just patted his chest and whispered, “I… Uh… Good night, Jongho…”

Jongho seemed unfazed, as if he wasn’t just making out with you seconds prior. He nodded and patted your head while responding, “Good night, Y/N. Sleep well.”

“Yeah, you too…”

Brain fuzzy, you crashed in your bed, your face still rosy and your lips slightly sore from kissing your best friend. Your best fucking friend.

You buried your face in your hands when you realized what you did, your mind chanting “what the fuck?” over and over again. You felt someone’s hand on your shoulder, but there was no way you were going to be consoled so easily.

“Y/N, don’t worry about it. It was a tiny mistake,” Hongjoong said softly. “We all know that you’re not usually like that.”

“I’m sick and tired of people telling me not to worry about it,” you groaned. “And being drunk is not an excuse… I… What do I do?”

The four of you were silent until Yunho said quietly, “I think you should just talk to him.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah, just talk it through. You guys are best friends, and I don’t like seeing the two of you avoiding each other.”

“Wait,” your head snapped up. “What do you mean each other? I thought I was avoiding him…”

“Why do you think he’s not here right now?” Yunho pointed out.

You gaped. Trivia was about to start soon, and Jongho was nowhere in sight.

“Where is he?”

All you did was kiss the guy, but you felt the guilt weighing on your shoulders not just because of the kiss but because of everything else you did following the kiss. The guy was your best friend for crying out loud. If it was just the kiss, you would’ve apologized immediately, and all would’ve been well, but the dreams just made it so much harder for you to do anything— even knocking on his apartment door was fucking difficult.

You somehow mustered the courage to do it, and after a couple of seconds, Jongho answered the door. He was wearing his standard class outfit: jeans, a hoodie, and a jean jacket; but he looked so fucking hot, so boyfriend material in them, that your heart actually skipped a beat or two.

“Hey,” Jongho spoke first, pulling you out of your head before you could spiral into a dizzy daydream.

“H-Hey, uh… Can I come in?”

Holding the door open, Jongho invited you in. You walked in hesitantly, awkwardly. You’d been in his apartment so many Goddamn times, so you shouldn’t have been so timid, but your anxiety truly got the better of you.

The two of you ended up taking a seat at his tiny dining table, the man sitting across from you. You fidgeted with the hem of your shirt as you looked down and tried to spit out something, anything.

“So…” you finally uttered. “I wanted to apologize.”

“For what?” Jongho genuinely sounded confused.

“I got really drunk the other night—”

“Y/N, it’s fine. I told you not to worry about it.”

“No! It’s not fine, Jongho,” you shook your head. “I— I came onto you, which was totally not cool of me, and I’m really sorry for that. I don’t like that you’re uncomfortable around me, which is totally valid considering what I did, but like… You’re my best friend, and it’s so weird that we’re avoiding each other like this…”

“Wait… Huh?”

“What?”

“I didn’t think you remembered, which is why I told you to not worry about it,” Jongho explained.

“I mean, I didn’t at first, but then it came rushing back to me like just now at the bar after Yunho told me what I did, and God, I feel awful for doing that to you,” you rambled.

“Why do you feel awful?”

“Because I kissed you without consent…? Isn’t that why you were avoiding me?”

“That… That wasn’t nonconsensual, Y/N…” Jongho started mumbling as the tips of his ears turned red.

“What… Um, what do you mean, Jongho?” you asked in a small voice.

“I mean…”

Jongho pressed his lips together and looked away, his ears turning redder as he ran his fingers through his hair. The guy was embarrassed as fuck, but he still managed to look so attractive that it made your heart, and your cunt, clench hard. He left his hand on the back of his head as he brought his gaze back to you.

“I kissed you back…”

Your jaw dropped slightly. Stammering, you asked, “S-So… What, uh.. What does that mean?”

“That I kissed you because I wanted to. Because I like you. And I was avoiding you because… Well, I didn’t want you to know that I, uh, had feelings… For you…”

Your face erupted into flames. You looked straight down at your lap, your eyes darting back and forth as you tried to make sense of the situation. The two of you were absolutely silent as clouds of embarrassment and slight tension filled the room.

“Wait…” Jongho broke the silence. “So, if you just remembered, then why were you avoiding me?”

“O-Oh… Because…” you forced yourself to get the words out— knowing him, he wouldn’t let you go without a proper explanation, and there was no way you were going to be able to lie to him at that point. Plus, even if you didn’t tell him, Mingi was going to, and it was definitely better that you told him than your dumbass friend.

“Spit it out, Y/N,” Jongho said, his voice breaking you out of your trance.

“Right.. Because I, uh… I had a sex dream about you… And now I can’t… Not see you… In… That… Way…”

And with that, you buried your face in your hands, trying to extinguish the red on your face; you could practically feel steam leaving your ears because of how embarrassed you were.

Jongho, meanwhile, was completely taken aback, but in the best way possible. If you were dreaming about him in that sense, did that mean you liked him back? That the feelings were mutual? That the kiss actually meant something whether you realized it or not?

While you were dying of embarrassment, Jongho hugged you— he thought he was reassuring you, but it only made you more shy and a little turned on feeling the way he hugged you securely to his surprisingly firm yet soft chest (you hugged him all the fucking time, so why you were only noticing it now was a mystery to you). You were so ready to let out a squeal— more like a dying dolphin noise— of embarrassment when you felt him choke down a chuckle and start petting your hair. Goddammit, was he trying to drive you insane?

Luckily, Jongho didn’t push the topic further (yet). The embarrassment slowly died down, and when you felt your heart unclench, you timidly hugged him back, and once you calmed down enough, he let go of you. Then, he fucking made your heart skip a million beats when he brushed your hair out of your face and looked at you with the softest eyes you had ever seen on him. You had seen him with plenty of girlfriends in the past, but this was the first time you had ever seen him display so much affection— and for you, of all people.

At some point, the two of you migrated to his sofa where you were sipping on water on one end of the long sofa and he was sitting in the arm chair next to the sofa like a fucking king. You had to keep your eyes on your water because if you got even the tiniest glimpse of his thighs and the way he was manspreading, you would fully combust.

“Y/N,” Jongho asked, his voice softer than ever.

“Yes!” you sat up attentively. “I-I mean, yeah…?”

You for sure thought Jongho was going to laugh at your actions, but he didn’t. He looked like everything was normal, but his ears were bright red once again.

“So…” he started. “In this dream… What happened?”

You choked on your water. You knew he was going to ask at some point, but you didn’t think he would actually ask you. You set the cup of water down on the coffee table in front of you and sighed softly before explaining the dream to him.

And as you explained your dream to him, Jongho’s face didn’t change in the slightest. He took all of your words in and just kept nodding, making it a little easier for you to tell him. Finally, after you finished retelling your dream— you only told him the dream that started all because God forbid he ever found out about you touching yourself while thinking about him in your dreams— he nodded and said, “Oh, wow… Hopefully, I live up to the way you dream made me out to be… Well, only if you’re okay with that.”

You blinked and froze, the words slowly starting to sink in. Was he asking for consent? Oh my God, did he want to fuck you?!

Without realizing it, you nodded slowly, your body taking over your mind. Then, you whispered, “I’d… I’d like to experience it for real…” giving him the verbal consent that he wanted.

Jongho held out his hand, willing you to hold it. He tugged your hand to make you get up and stand before him, and before you knew it, you were straddling him, your ass pressing against his knees. He was looking up at you with the softest, sparkliest eyes that you’d ever seen on him, making your heart skip a beat but in a way that was different from the way your wet dream version of him did.

With one hand on your back and the other weaving his fingers through your hair, Jongho led your head to meet his, his lips pressing against yours softly. He kissed you slowly, passionately. You were holding onto his shoulders at first, only for you to move your hand to his face and cup his cheek, the kisses deepening, your tongue slipping into his mouth as you felt your body slowly start to heat up.

His hands moved from your hair and back to your thighs, the palms of his hands rubbing against your clothed thighs so slowly and sensually that electricity zapped through all of your nerves. He let out little gasps and groans in between your kisses, his fingers pressing into your thighs when you tugged upwards on his lower lip.

Jongho was a lot more calculative with his actions in real life than in your dreams. His hands trailed from your thighs to around your butt, only to rest on the small of your back, his fingers teasing you by tugging at the waistband of your pants but not actually moving them down. You whined lightly against his lips, your hands gripping the collar of his jean jacket to get him to stop teasing you and start stripping both you and him down.

What sold him on moving faster was not the threat of your grip, but the way you were rolling your hips into him, the slightest movement making the bulge in his pants grow bigger and tighter; and it certainly did not help when you ran your fingers along his neck, one finger lingering on the little mole on his neck.

His intensity increased immediately. His hands went under your thighs and shifted you so that you were straddling only one of his thighs. He pushed down on your waist so that you were fully sitting on his thigh before running his hands up your shirt, his fingers brushing along the sensitive spots on your back.

The two of you only stopped kissing when you forced him to take off his jacket and when he helped you get out of your shirt, his eyes scanning your body as you tossed the shirt to the side.

“W-What? What is it?” you whispered, suddenly self-conscious and slightly reluctant to take your bra off.

“You’re stunning, Y/N,” he breathed out, his hands tracing the curve of your waist.

The compliment made you all sorts of shy all over again, making you bury your face in the nook of his neck. Jongho used that opportunity to unhook your bra, the straps slipping off your shoulders the second the band released. You ended up slipping the bra off, leaving your entire torso exposed. You felt the blush on your face get more intense when his hands and lips roamed your body, the man’s eyelashes fluttering as he left tiny, soft kisses along your skin.

Your hips resumed rolling, your clothed cunt rubbing along his thigh as his hands cupped and clutched your breasts. His hands kneaded your breasts continuously as he left little pink marks along your collarbone, chest, cleavage; and finally, when his mouth found your nipples, his hands moved back to your ass and held the underside of your ass securely as he sucked and nibbled on your tit.

“Jongho!” you cried as you flung your head back. “I— Angh— I—!”

You couldn’t form a single thought the second he started moving the waistband of your pants down. The only thing you could do was forcibly move his head up so that he was forced to look into your eyes, his dark hair covering his sparkling eyes slightly.

“I want you to fuck me already,” you whispered— more like whimpered— while grasping the collar of his shirt.

Wordlessly and effortlessly, Jongho stood up with you in his arms, your legs automatically wrapping around him as he carried you to his bedroom. He laid you down on his bed gently before starting to slowly remove his own clothes.

It was dark in his room, but thanks to the moonlight and the lights from the city, you were able to see his muscles and toned body reveal themselves as the clothes came off, and when he took off his pants, you saw that his cock, his girthy cock, was impatient and ready to go— you couldn’t even imagine the amount of self-restraint he was using if his cock was that red and angry.

Jongho turned to his nightstand and produced a condom. He tore the packet open and tossed it somewhere before rolling the condom on and getting on the bed next to you.

“C’mere,” he whispered as he laid down.

Soon, you were straddling him once more, your wet cunt hovering above his erect cock. At first, you thought he was going to ask you to ride him, but instead, he pulled your arms down so that you were essentially pinning him down, his lips making contact with yours as your chest pressed against his. His fingers ran through your hair and held the back of your head as he pushed your face closer to his, allowing his tongue to slip into your mouth.

You were so distracted by his tongue dancing with yours that you didn’t even realize his hands moved to your ass and his cock, lining up your entrance with the tip before pushing you down slowly, the girth of his cock spreading you so wide that you thought you were going to tear.

You cried against his mouth as he filled you up, your ass pressing against his thighs as he remained still inside you. Your walls clenched tightly around his fat cock, making him sharply inhale in between kisses, a little grunt escaping him shortly thereafter.

After a couple of seconds, you were able to relax your pussy just enough to start moving comfortably, your ass slapping his waist lightly as you moved your waist up and down. You moved slowly and gently at first as you moaned against Jongho’s lips, your chest rubbing against his, your nipples getting more sore by the second.

But, you were going a little too slow for the man underneath you. His hands, still on your ass, held onto you tightly as his waist jerked upwards. Your ass slapped against his waist so hard that the sound echoed in the room, and it felt so fucking good that your lips left Jongho’s so you could cry out in pleasure.

Jongho wanted to hear those cries more, so he continued to ram his waist upwards, and as he did so, he moved your ass so that he was continuously rubbing against your G-spot, making your orgasm arrive way sooner than you expected. You moaned loudly and dropped your head into the nook of his neck as you came, your cunt creaming around his dick.

You were panting heavily as Jongho sat up, his cock still deep inside you. Yet, he didn’t move. You remained seated on his lap as he gave you a second to recover and blink the stars out of your eyes as he moved his lips to your neck, peppering small kisses along your soft skin. His arms wrapped around you, his fingers pressing lightly into your waist and back, his nails tickling you ever so slightly. You rested your arms on his shoulders and let out euphoric sighs as he kissed you all over, leaving the occasional pink mark on your skin as he worked his way around the blank canvas of your body.

He started leaning into you the more he kissed you until he had you pinned to the bed. He was hovering above you when your back settled into the mattress, his hands laid flat right above your shoulders. The two of you just stared at each other, your mouths slightly open as you breathed in unison. Jongho’s hair was covering his eyes slightly, but you could still see them sparkle as he gazed into your eyes. His soft touch brushed against your temple as he moved your hair out of your face and tucked it behind your ear before cupping your face and kissing your lips lightly, a small smile appearing on his face.

You wrapped your arms around his shoulders and brought him closer to you, your lips yearning for him to kiss you more deeply, more passionately; and your waist shifted slightly and impatiently as you waited for him to fuck you. The second he locked lips with you again, his hips gyrated into yours, the light slaps of your waist meeting his filling the room.

Jongho’s pace slowly started speeding up, and the intensity of his thrusts increased exponentially as your cunt started taking the shape of his cock. Your insides started heating up to the point where you thought the friction was going to start a fire within you, and every time his waist rammed into yours with a satisfying slap, you let out a gasp mixed with a moan, your head pushing back further into the mattress.

Your legs wrapped around his waist completely, allowing him to thrust even faster into you. Jongho kept gasping your name softly as his orgasm neared, the melodic sound of your name leaving his lips making your body tingle all over and your toes curl. You hugged him even closer to you so that his chest was against yours and his nose was rubbing against the crook of your neck, his hot breath tickling your skin.

“You’re close, aren’t you?” Jongho gasped as you clenched around him.

You bit your lower lip and nodded, stars reappearing in your vision. Just seeing you bite your lower lip was enough for him. Jongho snapped his hips into yours with such force that made you cum hard, your walls fluttering as your arousal squirted out. Jongho, meanwhile, also came, his cock twitching as his cum filled the condom.

As you recovered from your high, Jongho pulled out and removed the condom before stroking himself a couple more times, ropes of cum decorating your torso as he finished completely on you, a groan of pleasure and relief rumbling in his chest. Then, wordlessly, he got off the bed and disappeared into his apartment.

You were able to push yourself up by the time Jongho returned with towels and water. He handed you the glass, and you took tiny sips of the water as you watched him wipe you down.

“Tell me something,” he said to you. “Was that as good as your dream?”

Jongho looked up at you as he waited for you to respond. So, you cupped his face and led him towards you to leave a lingering kiss on his lips.

“No, it was better.”

You thought you would be waking up from another dream, but no. This time, when you woke up, you woke up to see your best friend’s sleeping face right in front of yours, his soft features relaxed and beautiful. He looked so peaceful, so pretty while sleeping that it kind of made you jealous that he could look like fucking Sleeping Beauty.

You shifted slightly, immediately making the sleeping man hug you closer to his bare chest, his soft skin making you shiver slightly. And when you felt his gentle exhale flit past your ear before he buried his nose in your hair, every single nerve in your body tingled happily.

As Jongho continued to sleep, you observed him, your eyes landing on the little freckle on his neck. You absentmindedly traced your nail along it lightly, tickling him and subsequently waking him up.

“Mmm, good morning,” he uttered, his low morning voice echoing in your ear.

You’d had many sleepovers with him in the past, and you’d heard his morning voice many, many times in the past, but having him talk right into your ear like that was too sexy, too stimulating for you that early in the morning, your heart and cunt fluttering.

“Good morning, Jongho,” you whispered back.

Hugging you even closer, Jongho let out a happy exhale before leaving the faintest of kisses on your temple, making your heart skip and making you realize that you were falling for him.

But he didn’t need to know that. Not yet, anyway.

“I’ve never been to a baseball game before,” Y/n said as she looked out the window at the scenery passing by.

Jongho laughed from the driver's seat. “Really? Never?”

Y/n shook her head. “No, it’s not really my thing. My dad doesn’t really watch sports, and I'm an only child so…” she shrugged. “I’ve seen it in, like, movies and tv shows.”

“So if I asked you what inning we were in, you wouldn’t be able to tell me.” 

“What’s an inning?” she looked at him with a tilt of her head.

Jongho laughed again, the sound filling the car. “I love you,” he said, taking her hand in his. “I will give you a run down when the game starts, if you have any questions I will be happy to answer.”

Y/n nodded and squeezed his hand. “Aren’t we getting there a little early? Don’t they usually not start until like 6? It’s only 5.”

“I… I may have a slight schedule to do.” He rubbed his thumb across her knuckles. “But it won’t be long, okay?”

“While you’re doing this schedule, am I sitting alone in the stands?” she pouted.

Jongho brought their hands up and pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “I mean, you can come backstage with me if you want to, we’ll just say you’re like my assistant or something.”

Y/n looked down at the dress she was wearing. “I don’t think this is appropriate attire for an assistant.” 

Jongho pulled into the parking lot to the stadium and turned to her. He looked at her outfit. It was still really hot in Korea despite it being so close to fall, so she was in a thin cotton dress that rested just above her knee, it was strapless and showed a bit of cleavage, but not too much for it to be too obscene. Jongho thought that she looked beautiful, as always, and if he didn’t have a schedule today he would just not go to the game and go back home to the empty dorm and spend the entire day having her moan out his name in every room of the WooJongJoong dorm.

“I think you look gorgeous,” he squeezed her hand. “We don’t have to say you're my assistant, if you want to sit in our seats and wait that’s fine too. I’ll be like… thirty minutes tops. Manager-nim will be right with you so you don’t have to worry about people looking at you weird.”

“Why would they look at me weird?” she raised an eyebrow.

“Because you’re a young, gorgeous woman at a baseball game by herself. They might think you’re lonely and invite you to join their group, and someone might try and flirt with you. I can compete with the other members, but a random hot Korean, I don't think I'd stand a chance.” Jongho laughed lightly.

Y/n rolled her eyes and kissed him gently. “Jongho,” she pulled back, cupping his face in her hands. “I wouldn’t even think of looking at or joining anyone else. You are the only one I'm here for, it’s Choi Jongho or nothing.” she smiled. “I’ll wait for you in the stands, but you have to bring me back some samgyeupsal.”

“Oh you’ve never been here but you know what concessions they have?” he teased.

“Oh yeah. If I'm going anywhere new I always scope out the menu. It’s traveling 101, Jongho.” She kissed his lips again. “Now, let's get in there, you go do your thing and I'll be waiting for you somewhere in the stands with the manager.”

Y/n sat in the stands, the seats her and jongho were at had a perfect view of the field, it wasn’t too close, but not nosebleed high. No one was even paying attention to her, they were all chatting, taking photos, and just waiting for the game to start. She did however notice a suspicious amount of JJONGbears in the crowd.

Weird. She thought. But then just brushed it off because maybe it was just them bringing their ANITEEZ for an outing, she had brought her DDEONGbyeoli everywhere in the states.

“It’s time for the first pitch!” someone said excitedly in front of her. 

“I’m so excited!” someone else yelled, waving around their plush.

“And now,” the announcer’s voice boomed through the stadium, “to throw the first pitch for the Doosan Bears, global sensation… ATEEZ’s Choi Jongho!”

The crowd erupted in cheers, Y/n clapped along, shocked at the announcement. She watched the screen as Jongho walked out onto the field with Cheolwoong, the Bears’ mascot. She took out her phone and began to record the screen. Jongho waved at the crowd, bowing slightly at the cheers. He posed for pictures with the mascot before taking his place on the pitchers mound. 

She finally understood the sea of JJONGbears, they all knew he was going to be here. She’s an ATINY, why didn’t she? Perhaps it’s because she’s actually with them that she doesn’t pay attention to update pages, they usually tell her everything before anyone else knows… Why didn’t Jongho tell her about this? The stands were filled with baseball fands, ATINY’s and photographers, was this really a good place for them to be seen together?

Jongho stood on the mound in a customized Doosan Bears jersey with his name on the back. He glanced towards their section, a small smirk on his face as his eyes found the familiar dress, he knew she’d be surprised, he hoped the manager hadn’t let anything slip while he was preparing. He gave a small wave to where she was seated, his smile widening as she waved back.

The stadium hushed as he took his windup, he looked like a professional pitcher. He had practiced for weeks, throwing in between schedules, even throwing with Wooyoung in the dorms, much to Hongjoong’s disapproval. 

He threw.

The ball cut through the air and with a satisfying thump it hit the catcher's mitt. A perfect pitch. A strike. The stadium exploded in cheers, Jongho bowed, a wide and genuine smile on his face, he quickly ran off the field for the game to start. He looked so happy.

Y/n sat back down in her seat, rewatching the video, a smile on her lips. She felt an intense pride within her, so intense it almost made her tear up. “That’s my boyfriend,” she whispered to herself. She sent the video to the group chat with the caption ‘LOOK AT MY BABY’. 

Jongho didn’t come to his seat until twenty minutes after the game had started, he had to take photos and do an interview. But when he finally sat down next to her he felt even more elated than when he got offered the pitch. 

He set the bento box of samgyeupsal on the table in front of her. “Here you go, beautiful.” He didn't care that they were in public, he didn’t care about the rumors that might start. He asked Hongjoong if he could bring her and he said yes, so he’s assuming there is some kind of damage control waiting just in case. Granted he did ask the Captain while he was editing a track on his laptop but… hey, at least he asked somebody.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were throwing the first pitch?” she smacked him in the chest. 

Jongho laughed and rubbed where she hit. “I don’t know… I wanted you to be surprised. Was it okay?” he asked, suddenly insecure about his pitching abilities.

“Okay?” Y/n laughed, shaking her head. “Jongho, you were incredible. You looked like you’ve been pitching your whole life.”

He shrugged and leaned back in his seat. “I’ve been a fan of the bears since I was a kid. So this is like a dream come true for me.” he leaned in closer to her, his voice low just so she could hear. “I was nervous, but not about the pitch. I wanted to make sure that I didn't embarrass myself in front of you.”

Y/n reached out and brushed a stray hair away from his forehead. “You could never embarrass yourself. You were the best person for the job.”

Jongho stared at her, his gaze fixated on her face, ignoring the game behind them. “I’m glad you think that. I wanted this to be a nice memory for us even if it is a bit public.”

“It’s perfect,” she smiled. “But… we might want to reign in a little bit, don’t need dating rumors starting. Seonghwa might actually blow a gasket.”

Jongho laughed and sat up in his seat. “I do have one other thing for you.” He reached behind him and handed her a white jersey. “I know that it’s pretty hot out, but these are really light weight so if you wanted to put it on-”

Y/n immediately put it on. It was a Doosan Bears jersey, looked exactly like his, but on the back it said her last name. “How do I look?”

Jongho looked at her, his ears burning. It was his two favorite things, Y/n and baseball. The hem of her dress had ridden up slightly, showing more of her thighs, and she was angled towards him so his eyes instantly landed on her chest. “Y-you look…” he really wanted to kiss her right now. 

Y/n laughed. “SANdeoki got your tongue, Jongho?”

Jongho cleared his throat. “You look beautiful, as always.”

The two watched the game, the manager beside them letting them have their date. The crowd didn’t really pay attention to Jongho, maybe they sensed that he was on a date and they wanted to give him privacy, or maybe they just figured he wouldn’t want someone turned towards him for the entire game.

Jongho sat, utterly focused, his eyes tracking the ball as it flew from the pitcher's hand to the batter’s swing. Y/n watched him instead of the field, his face a study in concentration. His jaw would tighten when a pitch was missed, he would smile when a player stole a base, the way his shoulders tensed and relaxed with the plays in the game. He was cute. Incredibly cute.

“He’s going for home!” Jonho exclaimed, leaning forward, his hand instinctively grabbing her knee. The runner sprinted, the ball flew, the catcher braced, the runner slid a cloud of dust forming near home plate. There was a shout from the umpire and the crowd erupted in a mix of groans and cheers. Jongho slumped back in his seat, his hand still on her knee. “He was out, by a centimeter." he sighed.

Y/n laughed lightly, nudging him with her shoulder. “You care so much about centimeters?"

Jongho turned to her, his intense look instantly melting into a soft smile. “In baseball? Absolutely.” He moved his hand from her knee and laced his fingers with hers under the table. “You’re not watching the game at all though.”

“I’m watching you watch the game, that’s close enough.” she confessed, squeezing his hand. “You’re way more interesting anyways. You get so… invested. Your eyebrows furrow, then raise, then furrow again. It’s adorable.”

Jongho flushed, a faint pink running up his neck and to his ears. “Adorable? I’m trying to seem intimidating.”

“You’re failing spectacularly.” She squeezed his hand and leaned closer. “I’m glad I came today, I get to see you. You being normal, being a fan. Being you… that’s the best part.”

His eyes softened, the sunlight hitting his dark brown eyes and making them seem as light as yeosang’s. He lifted their hands and pressed a kiss to her knuckles, it was a quick gesture that made her heart flutter. “Thank you for coming with me.”

“Anything for you, Jongho.”

Jongho explained the basics of the game in low, patient tones between innings, pointing to the positions on the field. He explained the scoreboard and where they sat right now. She listened, but mostly watched the way his lips moved, the shape of his mouth as he spoke, the strong line of his throat when he swallowed his drink. He was right next to her, but she wanted him closer.

During the seventh inning, the manager went to get all of them more concessions. Jongho casually slid his arm behind her, his arm wrapped around her waist, it was risky but no one seemed to notice. His thumb rubbed a slow circle on her hip through the thin cotton of her dress. 

“So,” he leaned closer to her. “Do you understand the infield fly rule now?”

“Absolutely not,” Y/n said, taking a  drink of her lemonade. “But, I understand that you have very nice hands. And are a very attentive masseuse.” 

Jongho laughed loudly, squeezing her hip. “I’m good with my hands in other ways too, beautiful.”

Y/n’s face flushed and she hit him in the chest again.

The game ended with a Bears victory. The stadium emptied in a happy, noisy stream. Jongho kept her close, his hand in hers as the manager navigated them through the crowd. The manager drove them back in the car they arrived in, Jongho saying he was too tired to drive.

In the back seat, he leaned his head back, his eyes closed a small smile on his lips. 

“Happy?” she whispered.

“Very.” He opened one eye and looked at her. “You?”

“Very.” She leaned her head against his shoulder, his arm wrapping around her waist again.

They arrived back to an empty dorm. A note left on the kitchen counter, written in Wooyoung’s chicken scratch: ‘Hyung’s went out for dinner. DO NOT burn the place down.’

Jongho scoffed and shook his head. “Burn the place down, who does he think I am? Yeosang?”

Y/n laughed lightly as Jongho took her hand and led her to his room. It was neat and very organized, his bed was made, books were stacked neatly on a shelf, and a few framed photos of friends and family on the desk. It fit jongho, the vibe of the room felt warm, reliable. He set his baseball glove on his desk and turned toward her.

“Today was… normal,” he said softly. “Surprisingly normal, considering how public it was.”

Y/n placed her hands on his chest, feeling the solid muscle beneath his shirt. “I liked it.”

“I liked it too,” he bent his head, and their lips met.

The kiss started soft, a testament to today's gentleness. Jongho’s mouth was warm, and tasted like the lemonade they had shared earlier. Her hands slid up to his shoulders, then to the back of his neck, her fingers threading themselves into his dark hair. His arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him. The kiss deepened slowly, his lips parting, inviting hers to do the same. The tip of his tongue touched hers, a shy ask if it was okay, she reciprocated quickly. Jongho’s lips curving up into a smile.

They lost themselves in the kiss, standing in the center of his room, the world outside those four walls ceased to exist. There was only the soft sound of their breathing, the wrestle of their tongues as they learned each other's mouths. Jongho’s hands moved to her face, his thumbs stroking her cheekbones as he kissed her more deeply, one hand left her face and slid into her hair, angling her head up to him. Y/n moaned softly, the sound swallowed by him.

Y/n removed her hands from his hair and tugged at his shirt. Jongho broke the kiss only long enough to yank his shirt over his head, before capturing her lips once more. Y/n’s hands roamed over his now bare skin, his broad powerful chest, the heat radiating off of him was intense. He was beautifully built, strong but not insanely muscular. She ran her nails down his chest gently, Jongho shuddered under her touch.

as his kiss became hungrier, his hands began to wander. They pulled at the top of her dress, he pulled it down, thanking designers everywhere for creating strapless designs. He let the fabric fall off of her, the sundress pooling at her feet, leaving her in a black strapless bra and matching black panties.. And the Doosan Bears jersey. He looked at her, his eyes following her curves.

“So beautiful,” he murmured, his hands cupping her breasts, his large hands almost covering them completely. He squeezed and kneaded them gently, his thumbs finding her nipples through the fabric, rubbing them gently. Y/n arched into his touch, a gasp escaping her kiss bruised lips.

Jongho bent his head and kissed her again, his hands moving around her to unclasp her bra, his fingers worked expertly, the clasp giving into him in seconds. The bra joined the dress on the floor, her breasts bared to him, full and soft. Jongho kissed down her neck, down her sternum and took one of her nipples into his mouth, his tongue circling the peak. She was already wet from the anticipation of spending the whole day alone with Jongho, and their intense makeout session, her cunt fluttered at the sensation of his tongue on her breast. Jongho switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, his free hand roaming down her spine to the plush skin of her ass.

He pulled her against him, their bare chests meeting. The feeling of his skin against hers, his firm chest against her soft breasts, was everything. He kissed her neck again, his mouth open and hot. He worked his way to the spot below her ear, biting down gently, not to hurt, just to excite her a little. 

“Jongho…” she moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Jongho answered with another bite to her collarbone, then soothed it with a kiss and a quick flick of his tongue. “I want to remember every part of you,” he whispered against her skin. “Every taste, every touch, every sound..”

His hands went to her panties, he hooked his fingers into the sides and pulled down, letting them fall. She was completely naked, just wearing the custom jersey of his favorite baseball team unbuttoned, showing everything to him. He stepped back slightly, looking her over. This was like a wet dream to him. His eyes darkened, his breaths became heavier.

Her breasts, her soft stomach, the curve of her hips, her pussy. He could see the glistening evidence of how turned on her was, coating her cunt and a little bit of her thighs. She stood still, letting him look, a flush of heat and pride filling her.

“God…” he breathed, reaching out, not touching her just yet, his fingers tracing the shape of her hip in the air above it. “You’re perfect.”

Jongho finally touched her again, his fingers sliding into the wetness between her hips. He stroked upwards, over her clit in a slow firm pass that made her legs shake. He did it again, watching her face as her eyes fluttered shut, her lip being pulled between her teeth.

“You’re so wet for me already, beautiful,” he smirked. “So ready.”

Y/n reached for him, her hands going to the button of his jeans. He watched with an amused smile as she undid his button and zipper, then pushed them and his dark boxer briefs down his thighs. His cock free, her cunt instantly clenching at the sight.

Jongho’s cock was thick. Impressively thick, he was also long, not as long as Yunho but still  a decent length. His head was flushed a dark color, precum coating the top. He was fully erect, and as magnificent as everything else about him.

Y/n reached out, her hand wrapping around his cock. The heat of him, and the solid weight of him, made her bite her lip. She stroked him from base to tip, her thumb swiping over the slit on his head. Jongho groaned, his hips jerking forward involuntarily.

“Y/n…” he moaned.

She looked up at him through her lashes, her eyes meeting his. “I want you, Jongho.” she said, simple and direct.

Jongho nodded, his jaw clenched. He took her hand from his cock and led her to his bed. He sat on the edge, pulling her to stand in between his legs. “Camera?” his eyes glanced at her phone on his desk. “Do you want to?”

She did. This moment felt precious, she wanted to capture it. Even if she never posted it on her page, she could just keep it for herself and be reminded of how she felt in this moment. Loved. Cherished. “Yes.”

Jongho got up and grabbed her phone, he got it set up to record, positioning it on the bedside table to capture just the bed and them. He double checked the view, making sure their faces were out of shot, only their bodies being recorded. He reached out to her. “Just us, and this.”

He kissed her again, this time claiming her in front of the camera. He laid her back on the bed, the comforter cool against the warmth of her body. He followed her down, his body covering hers, his cock pressing against her thigh. His hands explored her body, cupping her breasts, kneading her ass, sliding between her legs to feel her wetness again.

Y/n was squirming underneath him, her hips lifting into his hand, seeking more contact. Jongho happily obliged, sliding a finger inside her wet cunt. She was hot, slick, and welcomed him with tight ease. He added another finger, stretching her as he scissored his fingers gently, his eyes locked onto hers. He felt her inner walls tremble around him, then he curled his fingers seeking that special spot.

“There..” Y/n moaned when he found it, sending a shockwave of pleasure through her body. “Right there, baby…”

Jongho focused there, stroking her gspot with relentless determination, his thumb simultaneously rubbing her clit in small circles. He could feel her cunt tightening around him, he knew she was getting closer, her orgasm was building quickly. She pushed his hand away gently and he looked up at her with a confused face.

“I need you inside me,” she panted with a pout. “Not your fingers. You.”

Jongho moved, positioning himself between her legs. He gripped his cock at the base, stroking himself as he looked down at her, before guiding himself into her entrance, rubbing the head of his cock up and down her slit to coat himself in her slick. The stimulation, paired with the sight of his eyes blown and his lip between her teeth, made a soft whimper escape Y/n’s lips.

He paused, looking down at her, his fingers tracing the edge of the jersey. “The jersey,” he said, his voice soft but firm. “Keep it on.”

She had almost forgotten. The dress had come off, but the oversized Bears jersey he had given her was still on. The fabric was soft, and bright white it contrasted the dark gray of his bedspread, it smelled faintly of her perfume, his cologne and sunblock. It was big on her, it fell mid thigh when she was standing. She was wearing nothing but the jersey, still covered but also exposed, her breasts bare under the open front, the buttons undone so it just blanketed over her.

“You’re so cute in it,” he murmured, his eyes drinking in the sight of her. “My beautiful fan.” He leaned down, kissing her deeply, their tongues tangling together as his cock nudged at her entrance. He pushed forward slowly.

The head of his cock was broad, and pressed against her opening. He pushed inward, inch by inch, the feeling of him filling her and stretching her made her eyes roll back. She gasped into his mouth as her inner walls continued to stretch to accommodate his thick cock. Jongho went slowly, watching her, his own expression a mix of awe and strained control.

“You’re taking me so well, beautiful,” he praised, his voice slightly rough from holding back. “My good girl. So perfect for me.” 

He sank deeper, another inch, then another. Her cunt adapted, welcoming his cock, the slick wetness easing his entrance. She could feel every ridge of his shaft, every vein, the heat of him inside her. When he was halfway in he paused, letting her adjust to him, letting the sensation subside a bit. He kissed her again, his lips gentle, a soothing contrast to the sensation in her cunt right now.

“Look at me,” he whispered, pulling his face away from hers.

Y/n opened her eyes, his gaze locked on hers. His deep brown eyes, full of an emotion so deep it stole her breath. This was not just sex, this was making love. 

Jonho pushed forward again, until his hips met hers, his cock buried to the hilt inside her. He was so deep, so thick, she felt full in a way she had only experienced with him. He stayed there, motionless for a moment, their bodies flush together, his eyes holding hers.

Finally he began to move.

He pulled out almost all the way, the drag of his thick cock along her sensitive walls made her moan loudly. Then he pushed back in, that same slow, deliberate pace. Each thrust was deep, and slow, and reached places in her that even her toys back home never touched. The broad head of his cock rubbing against her gspot with every thrust, sending a wave of pleasure through her every time.

His pace was slow, but powerful. It wasn’t a frantic rush to the finish, he was savoring it. He looked down at her, his eyes never wavering from hers as his body moved with hers. She could see every ounce of pleasure in his expression, every surge of emotion, and he could see hers. The way her eyes widened when he hit a particularly deep spot, the fluttering her eyelids did as his hips ground into hers, the parting of her lips as she moaned out his name.

His hand took hers, their fingers sliding together, locking tightly. He squeezed her hand, grounding them both as the sensations continued to build. His other hand cupped her breast, his thumb circling her nipple with each thrust.

“Jong..ho…” she moaned, her voice breaking.

“You feel…. Incredible,” he growled, his control starting to fray. His thrusts gained a little more speed, a fraction more force. The bed began to creak softly under their rhythm. The sounds of their bodies meeting, the slap of his skin against hers, the wet sounds coming from her cunt as his cock dove in and out filled the room.

Jongho shifted slightly, adjusting his hips and his angle, the new position allowing his head to press directly into her cervix. He fisted the white fabric of the jersey as he continued to thrust into her. The sensation was too much, the new angle, the intense look in his eyes, her hips bucked, trying to meet his thrusts, taking him even deeper.

“Cum for me, beautiful,” he urged, his voice strained. “I want to see you cum… let go for me, baby.”

Y/n couldn’t take it much longer, his words, the deep, relentless thrusts, the sensation of his hand on her breast, it was too much. Her back arched off the bed, her head thrown back as a moan of pure pleasure ripped through her throat. Her cunt clamped down on his cock in tight, rhythmic pulses, gripping him, milking him. The feeling of her walls fluttering around his cock was intense, almost overwhelming.

Jongho watched her cum, his face full of awe. He kept thrusting, his pace becoming more urgent, diving into her convulsing cunt rapidly. “So beautiful,” he choked out. “So fucking beautiful.”

Y/n rested her hands on his shoulders, her climax leaving her trembling and weak. But Jongho wasn’t done. He kept moving, his thrusts returning to that slow, deep rhythm, almost triggering another gush of release from her right away. Y/n’s body was hypersensitive and responded right away, another orgasm quickly building within her.

“Again,” Jongho demanded, his voice a rough whisper. “Give me another… I want… I need to feel you cum around me again.” 

He reached down with the hand that was on her breast and found her clit again. He rubbed it in fast, firm circles, trying to get her the rest of the way there. The sensation of his fingers on her clit combined with the deep thrusts of his thick cock was too much, too good. A second orgasm crashed through her, this one a series of intense, clenching spasms that made her thighs shake and her eyes roll back. She sobbed, tears of overwhelming pleasure leaking from her eyes as her cunt continued to convulse around him.

Jongho rode through her second orgasm, his breathing becoming ragged, his thrusts once again growing harder and faster. The bed continued to rock underneath them, slight worry crossing his mind that it might break. His eyes were dark locked on hers, watching as she came completely undone underneath him. His hand left the jersey and clamped around hers once more, almost painfully.

“I’m gonna cum, baby…” he gasped, his voice breaking. “Y/n… shibal… I'm..”

“Inside me,” she pleaded, her voice a whisper. “Please, Jongho… Cum inside me.”

He didn’t dream of pulling out, but hearing her beg for him to cum inside her in Korean sent him over the edge. With a final, deep thrust, he buried himself as deep as he could inside her. His body stiffened, a slight tremor running through him. She could feel the hot, sudden rush of his cum inside her. His cock twitched and jerked, pumping his cum deep in her cunt. The sensation of being filled by his cock and his cum, the warmth spreading within her, triggered a third orgasm. A small one, a series of small convulses that made her sink her nails into the flesh of his hand and shoulder.

Jongho collapsed onto her, his weight on her completely, their bodies glued together from sweat and their shared releases. He was still inside her, still pulsing weakly as the rest of his cum emptied out inside her. He buried his face in her neck, his breath coming out in short rapid gusts against her sweaty skin. She could feel the rapid heart beat against her chest.

They stayed like that for a few minutes, wrapped together in the aftermath, the scent of sex lingering in the room. Jongho pressed a kiss to her neck before her gently, and reluctantly, pulled out of her. She felt the immediate empty ache, and the trickle of their combined releases escaping her cunt. He didn’t go far, he rolled onto his side next to her, pulling her with him so she laid on his chest. His arm wrapped around her, holding her tightly. He kissed her forehead, then her temple, then her eyelids, then her nose, and finally her lips.

“You okay?” he asked, his voice slightly hoarse.

“‘M okay..” she whispered, nuzzling into his chest.

Jongho reached out for her phone, almost dropping it to the floor. “Shibal..” he whispered. He turned off the recording and laid the device on the bed next to them. 

In a few minutes he got up and got a warm, damp towel from his bathroom. He cleaned her up gently, wiping the sweat from her face, her neck and chest, then carefully cleaning the mess between her legs. Before doing the same to himself. 

He laid back down next to her, facing her. Y/n tangled her legs with his, the jersey still hanging loosely on her frame. Jongho reached for his phone and opened his gallery.

“Look,” he said gently, scrolling through pictures of the game. 

There were shots of him backstage with players, the mascot, when he got his customized jersey (and on the table behind him was the one he gave her). There were photos of the crowd, and shots of the players during the game, and there were ones of them, eating their concessions together, sharing a tray of pork belly and kimchi noodles. A selfie of them together with the crowd blurred behind them, a picture she had taken of him laughing, his head thrown back and a huge grin on his face. And one the manager took of them showing off their custom jerseys.

“You’re really cute when you watch baseball.” Y/n said as she looked at a photo of him pretending that his tornado potato was a baseball bat.

Jongho looked at her, not at the phone. His expression was full of love. “Y/n…” he said quietly. She looked at him, the phone forgotten between them. “Today… this…” he swallowed. “I never want to let you go.”

Y/n looked at him, the vulnerability in his eyes. His confession wasn’t just about today, it was about everything. He wanted her forever, not just here in Korea temporarily. She thought about every moment they shared, every quiet laugh, every lingering touch, the way his fingers traced patterns on her hip in the car, how he’d remembered exactly how she preferred her steak cooked, the truth in his voice when he called her beautiful.

She didn’t answer him with words, instead she leaned in and pressed her lips to his. A slow, deep kiss that hopefully was an answer itself. His lips were warm, and she could feel them tremble against hers. His arm tightened around her, pulling her closer until there was no room between them, just the heat of their bare bodies against each other. His hand slid into her hair, cradling her head gently.

When they finally broke apart she pressed her forehead against his. “You don’t have to let me go,” she whispered, nudging her nose against his. “I’m not going anywhere.” 

Jongho exhaled shakily, his thumb brushing her cheekbone. “Good, because I think I'd follow you anywhere.”

They kissed again, softer this time. His fingers tracing idle circles on her back through the jersey, her thumb brushing his jawline affectionately. The room was quiet except their breathing, the city outside the window seeming to disappear. The unspoken understanding that this, their whole relationship, was real. 

And neither of them wanted it to ever end.

© 𝖜𝖗𝖎𝖙𝖙𝖊𝖓-𝖇𝖞-𝖏-𝖔𝖓𝖊 | 𝖉𝖔 𝖓𝖔𝖙 𝖕𝖑𝖆𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖎𝖘𝖊, 𝖙𝖗𝖆𝖓𝖘𝖑𝖆𝖙𝖊, 𝖔𝖗 𝖗𝖊𝖕𝖔𝖘𝖙 𝖆𝖓𝖞 𝖔𝖋 𝖒𝖞 𝖜𝖔𝖗𝖐 ᴛʜɪs ɪs ɪɴ ɴᴏ ᴡᴀʏ ᴀ ʀᴇᴘʀᴇsᴇɴᴛᴀᴛɪᴏɴ ᴏғ ᴛʜᴇ ᴍᴇᴍʙᴇʀs ᴏғ ᴀᴛᴇᴇᴢ, ɪᴛ ɪs ᴘᴜʀᴇʟʏ ғɪᴄᴛɪᴏɴ ᴀɴᴅ ғᴏʀ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴍᴇɴᴛ. ᴅᴏ ɴᴏᴛ ᴛᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ sᴇʀɪᴏᴜsʟʏ.

𝕥𝕒𝕘𝕝𝕚𝕤𝕥: @sunnysidesins @tashiagalinda @kpopishgirlie @pippeth3hippy @sabyy @fertileleaf @osakis-gf @shynotded @icarusfallingdown @yessirfelix @heyyoplayer @wooya1224 @soulphoenix1618 @purelyhated @hannah-barnes107 @baw-sixteen @huntress-artemiss @bethlovesmatz @mysticfire0435 @tinycloudz

Which was technically true. Because before this, Yunho had at least been pretending he had his feelings under control. That illusion died three nights ago. It had been late. Almost one in the morning. You and Yeosang had come back from closing the campus café together smelling like coffee beans and sugar syrup, both of you exhausted and slap happy in that way people only got after working customer service too long. Yunho had been half asleep already, stretched across his bed with one airpod still in when he heard your laughter echo from the kitchen. Normally he tuned it out. He’d learned how to live around you a long time ago.

How to ignore the way your voice carried through walls. How not to think too hard when you wore his hoodies around the apartment and he wanted to hurt himself inside you with just said hoodie on. How not to stare when you sat cross legged on the couch beside him with wet hair after showers smelling like vanilla and coffee. He’d gotten good at surviving you. Mostly.

But that night he got up for water. And then he heard Yeosang say, “So your thing is just emotionally unavailable tall guys?” Your laugh came immediately after. “No, my thing is blondes unfortunately.” Yunho paused in the hallway going completely still. “I’m serious,” you continued. “Blondes are actually my weakness. It’s embarrassing.” And that was it. That was the moment his brain apparently vacated his body permanently.

Because the next morning he woke up thinking about it. Then he thought about it during class. Then during basketball practice. Then while brushing his teeth. Then at three in the morning while sitting cross legged on his bed researching hair bleach like he was preparing a dissertation.

Can dark hair go platinum in one session?

Will bleaching destroy natural waves?

Best blond shades for warm undertones.

The worst part? He knew it was pathetic. You’d all been friends since freshman year. Back when the three of you were living in tiny dorms with broken AC and surviving off instant ramen and campus vending machines. Back before Yunho had learned every version of your laugh by memory. Before he’d memorized your coffee order. Before the two of you ended up splitting rent on a shitty off campus apartment at the end of sophomore year because housing prices near campus were criminal.

Two years. Two years of shared grocery trips. Shared laundry. Shared late night study sessions. Shared space. Two years of wanting you so badly sometimes it physically hurt to look at you too long. And somehow you still had no idea. Or maybe you did. Yunho honestly couldn’t tell anymore. Sometimes he thought you had to know. Especially when your eyes lingered on him too long or when you’d fall asleep against his shoulder during movie nights without thinking twice about it.

Other times you treated him so casually he felt insane for even hoping. So yes. Maybe bleaching his hair because of one overheard conversation was humiliating. But Yunho had reached a point where he’d do a lot worse if it meant seeing you look at him differently for even half a second.

“Alright,” the stylist said finally, returning to his chair. “Ready to see it?” No. Absolutely not. But Yunho nodded anyway.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

By the time you finally made it home, your entire body felt held together by caffeine and spite. Your café visor was shoved into your tote bag, your hoodie sleeves pulled over your hands, technically it was Yunho’s hoodie, as you unlocked the apartment door with a tired sigh. The hallway outside still smelled faintly like somebody’s burned microwave dinner, and all you wanted was a shower and unconsciousness.

The apartment lights were dim except for the living room glow. A video game soundtrack echoed softly through the space, one you recognized from how many times Yunho plays it. Mortal Kombat. “You alive in here?” you called, kicking the door shut behind you. “Barely,” Yunho answered from the couch.

You smiled automatically at the sound of his voice. “Good. I brought your favorite croissants before they tossed the leftovers.”

“Chocolate ones?”

“Obviously.” You stepped into the living room, already pulling the paper bag from your tote. “Yeosang tried to steal one and I told him I’d…” The rest of the sentence died instantly and your footsteps stopped as Yunho looked up from the couch. Blonde. Your brain fully disconnected from your body for a solid three seconds. He was sprawled lazily across the couch in grey sweatpants and an oversized black shirt, one arm hooked behind his head while the PS5 controller rested loosely in his other hand. The TV painted shifting colors across him, catching against pale blonde hair that fell messily over his forehead like he’d been running his hands through it for hours.

Your mouth opened. Closed and then opened again. “What did you do to your hair?” One corner of his mouth twitched. “Dyed it.” Like it was no big deal. Like he hadn’t just casually altered your brain chemistry. You stepped closer without meaning to, still staring at him. “Why are you blonde?”

Yunho shrugged, eyes flicking back toward the tv too casually. Way too casually. “Wanted a change.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Since when?”

“Since today?”

You made a disbelieving noise under your breath, still frozen in the middle of the living room while your heartbeat started doing deeply embarrassing things. Because Yunho had always been attractive. That was the problem. You’d spent years trying very hard not to think about it too much. But this? This felt targeted. Like a personal attack he had no idea he was doing. His hair looked soft enough to touch. The blond made his eyes look darker somehow. Sharper.

And the worst part was how relaxed he looked about it, stretched across the couch like he had no idea he’d just walked straight out of every bad decision you’d ever made. Yunho glanced back at you again finally, slower this time because you were still staring. Not subtly either. Your fingers tightened around the paper bag slightly as your eyes dragged over his hair again before you could stop yourself and a tiny flicker of satisfaction crossed his face so fast you almost missed it. “You hate it?” he asked.

You laughed once in disbelief. “Hate it?” you repeated. “Yunho, you look insane.” His eyebrow lifted. “Insane bad or insane good?” The apartment suddenly felt very warm. Very small. You swallowed once and completely betrayed yourself as you mumbled. “Unfortunately insane good.” You tore your eyes away from him with actual effort and shoved the paper bag toward him before you could continue staring like a Victorian man witnessing an exposed ankle.

“Here,” you muttered. “Your croissants before I decide you don’t deserve them anymore.” Yunho snorted softly, setting the controller down on his stomach so he could take the bag from you. Your fingers brushed for barely a second, just enough to make your stomach flip.

“You’re so generous,” he said dryly.

“I know.”

You dropped onto the opposite end of the couch quickly, mostly because standing near him suddenly felt medically unsafe. The cushions dipped under your weight while Yunho pulled one of the croissants from the bag immediately, peeling the paper back. You watched him take a bite. Unfortunately that was somehow attractive too. This was a nightmare. You exhaled through your nose, trying very hard to regain control of yourself before saying something humiliating. “Your postseason championship tomorrow,” you said, tucking your legs beneath you. “You ready?”

Yunho’s expression shifted slightly then, the teasing easing into something softer. Their intramural basketball team had somehow made it all the way to finals. Which normally wouldn’t have mattered much except Yunho was annoyingly good at basically everything. Half the campus showed up to games just to watch him play. “Mm,” he hummed around another bite of croissant. “Kinda nervous.”

You blinked, shocked. “You? Nervous?”

“A little.” He shrugged one shoulder. “Coach has been acting like this is the NBA finals all week.”

You smiled despite yourself. “That’s because you’re carrying the entire team.”

“That is actually true.”

“There he is.” You pointed at him. “Arrogant again.”

Yunho grinned and, God, the blonde hair made his smile worse somehow. Brighter. You hated this. “You’re coming though, right?” he asked and you softened immediately. “Of course I am. I even switched shifts for it,” you added. “Yeosang’s covering close tomorrow.”

Yunho stared at you for a second too long. Something warm flickered behind his eyes. Then he looked away first, rubbing the back of his neck awkwardly. “Cool,” he said quietly. And suddenly the apartment didn’t feel casual anymore. Not with his blonde hair glowing gold under the tv light.

Not with the way he kept glancing at you between bites of croissant.

Not with the heavy feeling sitting low in your stomach every time he smiled.

You were in so much trouble.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The next afternoon was somehow worse. You’d spent the entire morning telling yourself you were being ridiculous. It was hair. Just fucking hair. People dyed their hair every day. Millions of people probably woke up blonde every morning and somehow society continued functioning. So why had you spent half your shift replaying the image of Yunho sprawled across the couch in your head?

Why had you almost poured whole milk into an iced americano because you’d gotten distracted thinking about it? Why had you caught yourself staring into space while wondering if it was as soft as it looked? You were losing your mind.

By the time your shift ended, you practically threw your apron into your locker and headed for the employee bathroom. The game started in less than an hour. You’d been going to Yunho’s games ever since freshman year when he’d somehow convinced you to attend one “just this once.” That had turned into every home game. Which had turned into wearing his jersey number. Which had turned into you owning a black and red fitted shirt with a giant white 08 on the back.

You absolutely refused to examine how that happened. The shirt was already folded in your bag. You changed quickly, pulling it over your head and fixing your hair in the mirror. The familiar number stretched across your back with JEONG right above it. A small smile tugged at your lips before you jumped as a knock sounded on the doorframe.

Yeosang stood there holding a box of pastries, immediately narrowing his eyes. “Why do you look guilty?”

“I don’t.”

“You absolutely do.”

You grabbed your bag. “I’m leaving. Have fun closing.” Yeosang stepped directly into your path. “Not until you tell me what’s wrong.”

“Nothing’s wrong.”

Unfortunately, after years of friendship, he had developed an almost supernatural ability to tell when something was bothering you. Or when you were lying. The café had mostly emptied out now, most like you, were heading to the game. You finally signed, groaning. “It’s Yunho.”

“See? I knew it.”

“You always know it.”

“What’s he done now?”

You hesitated. Because somehow saying it out loud felt embarrassing. Extremely embarrassing. Yeosang waited patiently. Then impatiently. Then dramatically until you blurted it out.

“He dyed his hair.”

Yeosang blinked. “What?”

“He dyed his hair.”

“And?”

“He dyed it blonde.”

Yeosang laughed. A little too loudly. “Oh my god! Are you serious?”

You groaned. Then immediately regretted opening your mouth at all. Because once you started talking, everything spilled out. “I can’t stop thinking about it.”

Yeosang barked out another laugh. “Oh, you’re down bad.”

“Shut up.”

“You are.”

“I know.”

“You know?”

“I know.”

Yeosang looked delighted as you looked miserable. “Every time I close my eyes,” you complained, “I just keep thinking about running my fingers through it and pulling on it while he…”

Yeosang immediately held up both hands. “Nope. Don’t need your nsfw details.”

You laughed despite yourself. “I wasn’t even going to say anything.”

“That sentence was headed somewhere awful.” Yeosang jokingly physically shuddered. “Please save that conversation for literally anyone else.” You laughed harder now, the tension easing slightly from your shoulders as Yeosang pointed toward the door. “Go.” He grabbed a towel and started wiping down a nearby counter. “Go watch your blonde basketball player.”

You rolled your eyes and headed backwards toward the exit. “He’s not my basketball player.”

Yeosang’s laugh followed you all the way out the door. “Sure he isn’t.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The gym was already packed by the time you arrived. Not professional sports packed. Not thousands of people screaming packed. College packed. Students crammed into bleachers. Friends holding homemade signs. The marching band warming up in one corner. The scent of popcorn and sweat and polished hardwood filling the air. The noise hit you immediately and you loved it.

You slipped through the crowd, making your way toward your usual section. A few people recognized the shirt you were wearing and smiled knowingly. Yunho’s number. As usual but you ignored the looks. At this point half the athletic department had apparently decided you and Yunho were dating years ago. The fact that neither of you had corrected them probably wasn’t helping.

The teams were already on the court warming up. And then you saw him and your feet almost stopped moving. God. That wasn’t fair. The basketball uniform had always looked good on him. That wasn’t new. The black and red jersey stretched across broad shoulders you’ve spent years pretending not to notice. His shorts hung low on his hips. His long legs seemed to take up half the court whenever he moved. Normally that was already enough to make maintaining a friendship feel like an Olympic sport. Now add the blonde hair and you were finished. Absolutely finished.

The bright gym lights caught the bleached strands every time he moved. Against the uniform it stood out immediately, making him impossible to miss even among dozens of players. Several girls nearby were staring and you immediately hated them. Then realized you were doing the exact same thing. Which somehow made it worse.

A whistle blew and warmups ended and the game began. You tried, you really did, to focus on the actual basketball. For maybe five minutes. Then Yunho stole the ball and the crowd erupted. You found yourself leaning forward automatically as he moved with an ease that always fascinated you. Confident. Fast. Certain. The version of Yunho most people knew was relaxed. Sweet and easygoing. Basketball was different. There was a sharpness to him here. A confidence. An intensity. Every movement looked deliberate. Every play looked effortless. And apparently blonde hair made all of it ten times more distracting.

Halfway through the first half he scored again and the crowd exploded all over again as Yunho jogged backward down the court breathing hard. Sweat glistening along his neck. You immediately looked away. Then immediately looked back. Which was a mistake. Because once again your brain had decided to imagine what that hair would feel like beneath your fingers. Pulling….. gripping…..

You shifted in your seat, clenching your thighs together and knew if this was one of those omegaverse stories Yeosang likes to read, the whole gym would smell how turned on you were right now. By halftime you had learned three things: One, Your roommate was going to win this game. Two, The blonde hair somehow looked even better than it had last night. And three….. You desperately needed to get your act together before he noticed the way you kept staring or wet you are as he glanced up and smiled at you.

Yunho had always been good at pretending. That was probably the only reason he’d survived the last few years. Because if he hadn’t learned how to hide things, you would’ve figured him out sometime during freshman year. Back before there was an apartment. Before shared rent. Before he realized he was completely screwed. The game should have had his full attention. It was the championship. The biggest game of the season. The final game of his college career.

And yet every few minutes his eyes drifted toward the bleachers anyway. Toward you. They always did. The first time he’d looked over after warmups, he’d almost forgotten what play they were running. Because there you were as always wearing his name and number. And Yunho hated how much he liked it. Actually, hate wasn’t the right word. The truth was much worse. He loved it. Loved it in a way he would absolutely never admit out loud.

Because the second he started examining why seeing you wear his number made him feel the way it did, he’d have to confront some very uncomfortable truths about himself. Like the fact he was possessive. Not in an unhealthy way. Not in a controlling way. Just… Yours. His brain immediately corrected. No. Not yours. You weren’t his. He knew that. But every time he saw another guy talking to you for too long, something ugly twisted in his chest.

Every time someone flirted with you at parties. Every time some idiot from one of your classes made you laugh. Yunho had to sit there pretending he was perfectly normal about it. So yes. Watching you wear his name and number did something to him……

Yunho snapped back into the play when the whistle blew again. He intercepted a pass, pushed the ball down court, and scored. His teammates slapped his shoulders as they ran back and the crowd cheered but he barely heard them. Because his eyes were already looking toward the stands again and you were watching him. A smile pulling at your mouth and his chest tightened immediately. God. He was pathetic. Absolutely pathetic. He immediately turned away. Then looked back three seconds later because apparently he had no self control anymore.

He kept glancing at you for the rest of the half. Through every possession. Every timeout. Every basket. Until finally midway through the second half he ended up at the free throw line and the gym quieted as Yunho bounced the ball once. Twice. Then glanced toward the stands out of habit again and immediately regretted it. Because you were looking right at him. Your chin resting against your hand. Looking at him like he was the only thing in the entire gym worth paying attention to. The shot nearly rimmed out but Yunho caught himself at the last second and the ball dropped through the net.

You weren’t even pretending to watch anyone else anymore. The scoreboard overhead glowed brightly against the gym lights, the numbers changing every few possessions. The opposing team was better than expected. Every time Yunho’s team started pulling away, they clawed their way back. The tension in the building kept rising. Students stood. The bench stood. Even the coaches looked stressed. And through all of it, Yunho somehow looked completely composed.

His blonde hair was darker now with sweat, the strands sticking slightly to his forehead as he moved across the court. The jersey clung to his back. His breathing had become heavier over the course of the game, but he never seemed to slow down. You’d watched him play dozens of times. Maybe a hundred. But tonight felt different. Everything felt different. Every glance toward him and him towards you lingered a little longer than it should. Every smile he gave a teammate made your stomach flutter. Every time he pushed his hair back from his face, your brain short circuited.

The scoreboard buzzed. Two minutes remaining. The game was tied and the entire gym seemed to collectively hold its breath. You shifted forward on the bleachers, elbows on your knees now. Nobody around you was sitting anymore. The student section was practically vibrating as the opposing team scored and groans erupted. Then thirty seconds later Yunho answered with a three pointer that nearly blew the roof off the place and you found yourself shouting before you even realized it but the sound was swallowed by hundreds of other voices.

Yunho pointed toward a teammate as they ran back down the court. One minute left. Then forty seconds. Then thirty. The score stayed tied and every possession felt life or death. You could see the exhaustion on every player now. The way they bent slightly when the play stopped. The sweat soaking through uniforms. The desperation. Twenty seconds. The opposing team missed. The rebound bounced loose and one of Yunho’s teammates grabbed it. Ten seconds. Nine. Eight. You stood fully now, heart pounding as the gym felt deafening.

Yunho sprinted across half court and the ball found him immediately. Everyone in the building knew who was taking the final shot. Even the other team. Two defenders closed on him instantly. Five seconds. Four. The noise became unbearable. Three. Yunho stepped back, just enough space to aim as time seemed to slow. You saw the ball leave his hands. Saw the arc. Saw the blonde hair falling into his eyes as he watched it fly and the entire gym froze……

For a split second there was silence. Pure silence. Then absolute chaos. The buzzer sounded. The scoreboard flashed. His team had won and the gym exploded. Boomed. Students screamed. The bench stormed the court as teammates tackled each other. People jumped onto the hardwood from the stands and the sound hit like a wave. And through all the madness, all the celebration, all the movement… Your eyes found Yunho immediately. He was laughing. Head thrown back. Arms spread as his teammates nearly knocked him over as they swarmed him.

For a moment he disappeared entirely beneath the crowd before he emerged again. Breathing hard and grinning. Flushed from exertion and adrenaline. You got up and made your way down the bleachers and onto the court and for a split second, you considered leaving.

The idea hit you the moment you reached the court through the chaos of celebration. Students were spilling onto the hardwood. Teammates were hugging each other. Coaches were getting drenched in water bottles. Everyone seemed to be shouting at once. Then you saw her. Standing beside Yunho. Red hair. Pretty. One of the cheerleaders. And not just any cheerleader. You knew exactly who she was. Brandy. Unfortunately. Because sophomore year, long before you’d let yourself admit your feelings for Yunho, he’d gotten drunk at a Halloween party and disappeared upstairs with her.

You’d spent the rest of that night pretending it hadn’t bothered you. Just like you’d spent the next years pretending a lot of things. Now she was standing entirely too close to him. Laughing. Touching his arm. Looking up at him with the kind of smile that made your stomach immediately sink. The championship high vanished from your system so fast it was almost impressive. You stopped walking. The noise of the gym suddenly felt distant. Stupid. This was stupid.

Yunho wasn’t your boyfriend. He could talk to whoever he wanted. He could fuck whoever he wanted. He’d done exactly that for years. And yet all you could think about was the way she’d reached up a second ago and touched his shoulder while laughing and how you wanted to break her hand for doing it.

Your jaw tightened and before you could stop yourself, you turned. You’d just leave. Nobody would notice. The team would celebrate. Yunho would celebrate. You’d text him congratulations later. Simple. Except apparently the universe had decided you weren’t getting away that easily. Because before you’d taken more than three steps, you heard your name and you froze.

“Y/N!”

You looked back as Yunho was already jogging toward you leaving the conversation with Brandy entirely.She looked confused as he disappeared and your heart did something deeply embarrassing as Yunho reached you a moment later, slightly out of breath from both the game and weaving through the crowd. The smile on his face hadn’t disappeared since the winning shot. “Where are you going?”

You shoved your hands into your pockets. “Nowhere.” His eyes narrowed immediately. The same way they always did when he knew you were lying. “Uh huh.” You shrugged. “You were leaving.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You literally turned around.”

“I changed directions.”

Yunho stared at you and you stared back. Then, to your horror, a tiny smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. Like he knew exactly what had happened. Like he was enjoying it as you kept glancing at his sweat damp hair. “I’m gonna go shower real quick,” he said. “We’re all going to Murphys to celebrate.” The little sports bar was only a few blocks from your apartment. Close enough that most students walked there. You nodded. Trying very hard to act normal. “Okay.”

His smile widened slightly. “Then we can go together.” The words landed harder than they should have. Because he could’ve gone with teammates. Or literally anyone else. Instead he’d said we. Like it was obvious. Like of course he was going with you and a warmth spread through your chest despite your best efforts. “You sure?” you asked and the question came out before you could stop it and something flickered across Yunho’s face. Confusion. Then amusement. Then something softer. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

You opened your mouth and closed it again. Because you couldn’t exactly say because Brandy looked like she wanted to climb him like a tree. So instead you shrugged. “Just asking.” Yunho watched you for a second. A long second. The kind that felt dangerous. Then one of his teammates shouted his name from across the court and the moment broke. “Give me twenty minutes,” Yunho said, backing away. “Don’t disappear.”

Your stomach flipped as the grin he gave you was quick. Easy. Familiar. Then he turned and headed toward the locker rooms as you kept standing there watching him go. Watching the blonde hair. Watching the way students stopped him every few feet to congratulate him. Watching three separate girls try to get his attention in the span of thirty seconds.

And for the first time all night, a realization settled heavily in your chest. The jealousy wasn’t getting better. If anything, it was getting worse.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Murphys was exactly what every college sports bar eventually became on a championship night. Packed and overly loud. Impossible to move through without bumping into somebody. The moment you and Yunho stepped through the front doors, a roar erupted from somewhere near the back where most of the team had already claimed several tables. Someone immediately started chanting his name. Another teammate nearly spilled a beer trying to get his attention. You couldn’t help smiling. This was his night. The culmination of four years of practices, games, injuries, early mornings, and everything in between. And somehow, despite all the attention immediately being directed at him, Yunho still glanced over his shoulder to make sure you were following.

The small gesture shouldn’t have affected you but it did unfortunately. His hair was still slightly damp from the shower, the blonde strands softer than before and pushed loosely back from his forehead. A few pieces had already fallen forward again, framing his face in a way that should probably be illegal. He’d traded the basketball uniform for black jeans and a dark grey henley that fit entirely too well across his shoulders. You hated how aware you were of every detail and the way half the women in the bar immediately noticed him.

“Over here!” one of his teammates yelled. The team occupied nearly an entire section of the bar now, pitchers and baskets of food already covering the tables. The second Yunho approached, someone shoved a shot glass into his hand. Then another. Then another. And another. “Champions drink free tonight!” someone shouted. The chanting started almost immediately and Yunho rolled his eyes then knocked back the first shot anyway.

You found yourself laughing despite everything. For a little while, it was easy. The energy was infectious. Everyone was celebrating. The game replayed on televisions mounted around the bar and every few minutes somebody brought up the final shot again. Every single retelling somehow made Yunho look more embarrassed.

You were watching him grin through another round of congratulations when your stomach suddenly dropped. Her. Brandy. She’d arrived sometime in the last ten minutes. You hadn’t noticed until now. Until she stood near the opposite side of the table talking to a few people from the athletic department and entirely too interested in Yunho. You tried ignoring it. Really. You focused on your drink. Focused on conversations around you. Focused on literally anything else. Then you looked up again and she was moving closer.

Your jaw tightened as she stopped right beside Yunho who didn’t seem to notice. Or maybe he did. You couldn’t tell as someone handed him another shot and he accepted it with a laugh as Brandy laughed too. At something that wasn’t even funny. Your grip tightened around your glass as she kept finding reasons to move closer, reaching out and touching Yunho’s arm while saying something. The movement lasted barely a second but it still made something unpleasant twist in your chest.

You immediately looked away and moved towards the bar having no idea Yunho was trying. He really was. He’d spent the last ten minutes being cornered by teammates, congratulated by professors he barely knew, handed enough shots to tranquilize a horse, and somehow Brandy had attached herself to his side like a particularly persistent barnacle. Ordinarily, he would’ve felt a little bad. Brandy was nice enough. Kind of. Not really.

They’d hooked up exactly once nearly two years ago after a Halloween party, discovered they had absolutely no chemistry beyond mutual attraction, and never did it again. Since then they’d been friendly. Casual. At least, Yunho thought they’d been casual. Apparently Brandy had different ideas. Because she kept laughing at things that weren’t funny. Kept touching his arm. Kept finding excuses to lean closer. And Yunho kept trying to politely create space without making a scene.

His attention wasn’t even on her. It hadn’t been all night. The problem was that his attention was currently locked on the opposite side of the bar. Specifically on you. And the guy sitting beside you. Sean. Of course it was Sean. Yunho knew Sean. Everybody knew Sean. Another player. Not on the basketball team, but one of the soccer guys. Tall. Built. Annoyingly good looking. And blonde. Naturally blond and that realization hit Yunho like a personal attack.

Of course. Of fucking course. The universe apparently had jokes tonight. Because there you were, sitting at the bar with Sean occupying the stool beside you. Laughing and smiling. Looking comfortable. And all Yunho could think about was that stupid conversation he’d overheard about blondes being your weakness.

His jaw tightened as Sean leaned closer to hear something you said over the music and you laughed and Yunho immediately hated him. Not rationally. Not fairly. Just instantly. “You even listening to me?” Brandy’s voice snapped him back for half a second. “What?”

“You haven’t heard a single thing I’ve said.”

And he still wasn’t as a fresh wave of irritation rolled through Yunho. Which was ridiculous. Completely ridiculous. You weren’t his girlfriend. You could talk to whoever you wanted. You could date whoever you wanted. Fuck whoever you wanted. The same rules he’d been reminding himself of for years. The problem was they weren’t working anymore.

Yunho immediately looked again. And hated that he looked again. Because the second he saw your smile directed at someone else, that ugly feeling in his chest returned. Stronger this time. Possessive. Frustrated. Dangerously close to becoming something he couldn’t keep hidden much longer. And judging by the way Sean had started leaning even closer, Yunho was rapidly running out of patience.

Sean was halfway through telling some story about getting thrown out of an intramural soccer game when Yunho finally reached his limit. “Fuck it.” Before he could talk himself out of it, Yunho started walking towards you and the moment you felt his presence, you turned. And immediately forgot how to function.

Yunho had one hand braced against the bar behind your stool. The other settled on the counter beside your drink. In one smooth movement he’d essentially wedged himself into the tiny space behind you. Not touching. Technically. But close enough that you could feel the heat radiating off him. Close enough that his shirt brushed the back of your shoulder when he shifted. Close enough that the familiar scent of him immediately invaded your senses and your brain completely short circuited.

Sean looked up and grinned immediately. “Jeong!” Yunho nodded once and to Sean’s credit, he didn’t seem remotely threatened. Or aware. “Hell of a game,” Sean continued. “That shot was ridiculous.”

“Thanks.”

“You saved your whole team.”

“Someone had to.”

Sean laughed and Yunho smiled politely. Meanwhile you sat frozen between them. Because while Sean was carrying on a perfectly normal conversation, Yunho remained exactly where he was. Behind you. Practically looming as his arm still rested along the bar behind your stool. You grabbed your drink then immediately regretted it because your hand was shaking slightly. Wonderful.

“You guys still living together after graduation?” The question landed like a grenade. Sean looked genuinely curious when you looked startled and Yunho looked calm. “Yeah,” Yunho answered before you could and your eyes immediately flicked toward him as Sean nodded. “Nice. Makes life easier.”

“It does.” The answer came instantly. Like Yunho hadn’t even needed to think about it and something warm stirred in your chest as Sean smiled. “Honestly, I don’t know how you two do it. I’d kill most of my roommates after two years.”

This time you laughed. “So would I.”

Yunho looked down at you immediately. “You wound me.”

“You leave dishes in the sink.”

“They soak.”

“They rot.”

“They marinate.”

Sean barked out a laugh and you laughed too as Yunho smiled. And for a brief second the jealousy disappeared entirely. Because this felt familiar. Comfortable. The two of you slipping into the easy rhythm you’d built over years. Then Sean smiled at you again and the jealousy came roaring right back. Yunho’s jaw tightened almost imperceptibly as his eyes lingered on Sean for a moment longer than necessary then dropped to you.

“Oh, there he is.” You followed Sean’s gaze to see another soccer player waving him over from a crowded table near the back as Sean stood. “My roommate is going to drink himself into a medical emergency if I leave him alone any longer.”

“Probably a good idea then,” you said as Sean pointed toward Yunho. “Again, congrats on the win.”

“Thanks.”

And just like that, Sean was gone and the moment he disappeared into the crowd, the space beside you was empty for approximately half a second before Yunho sat down. Like he’d been waiting for the opportunity. The stool Sean had vacated hadn’t even stopped spinning before Yunho claimed it. You stared into your drink to hide your smile as the bar remained loud around you. Students celebrating. Glasses clinking. Music playing overhead.

But suddenly all of your attention narrowed to the person sitting beside you as Yunho leaned forward against the bar. His blonde hair had dried almost completely by now. Which somehow made it worse as you heard him mumble almost to himself. “You really do like blondes, don’t you.”

You froze. The words weren’t loud. But they were loud enough and Yunho froze too, his eyes widening slightly and for a second neither of you moved before you furrowed your brows. “What?”

Yunho stared straight ahead. The picture of regret. You could practically see him replaying the last five seconds in his head. Trying to decide if there was any possible way to pretend he hadn’t just said that.

“What did you just say?”

A faint flush crept up the back of his neck and his ears turned red and the realization hit you immediately. Yunho was embarrassed. Genuinely embarrassed. And somehow that made your pulse jump even harder.

“You told Yeosang you like blondes.” His words landed between you and your brain stopped working. For a moment you weren’t even sure you’d heard correctly. “You… heard that?”

Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. “Maybe.”

Your jaw dropped. “Yunho.”

“It was an accident.”

“You eavesdropped on us?”

“I was getting water.”

“You were eavesdropping while getting water.”

“I was not.”

“You absolutely were.”

“I wasn’t.”

“You dyed your hair.” The words slipped out before you could stop them and Yunho finally looked at you. “You dyed your hair because of that?” you asked quietly and Yunho let out a short laugh. Not amused. More like someone caught red handed. “Maybe.” His jaw tightened as his fingers flexed around an empty beer bottle. For a moment he looked like he was debating whether to keep hiding. Then something in his expression shifted.

“I wanted you to look at me.” The words landed like a punch and your breath caught as Yunho laughed once. “Actually, no. That’s not true.” He shook his head. “I wanted you to want me. I’ve wanted you for a long time,” he admitted and you could have swore your heart stopped beating. “Since freshman year, probably. You remember when you got sick during finals?” You stared at him. Of course you remembered. You’d spent three days miserable in your dorm while Yunho kept showing up with soup and notes. “I remember.”

“I skipped practice for that.”

Your chest tightened. “I know.”

“You don’t.” His eyes locked onto yours. “I skipped practice because I couldn’t focus knowing you were sick.” Yunho looked away briefly before continuing. “I tried getting over it.” A small laugh escaped him again. “Didn’t work.” Your throat felt tight. “I dated other people. Didn’t work.” The noise of the bar washed around you but neither of you seemed to notice anymore. “Then we moved in together.” He smiled faintly. “Which was probably the worst decision I’ve ever made.”

Despite everything, a tiny laugh escaped you as Yunho’s gaze softened. “Do you know how hard it is living with someone you want?” The air left your lungs because of you did. “You wear my hoodies.” His voice was lower now. “You fall asleep on my shoulder. You wear my name and my number.” Your eyes dropped briefly to the black shirt and when you looked back up, Yunho was already watching you. “I like when you wear it.”

Your heart nearly stopped. “You do?”

“Yeah.” Yunho’s jaw flexed. Then he admitted the thing he probably never intended to. “It makes me feel like you’re mine.” The words settled heavily between you and Yunho immediately looked away. Like even after everything, that confession felt too revealing. Too possessive. Too honest. But it was already out there now. And suddenly so many things made sense. The way he’d always noticed when you wore the shirt. The way he’d smiled every time. The way he’d looked at you during games. The way he’d dyed his hair. The way he’d looked at you tonight and slowly, Yunho looked back and his expression was completely open now.

“I want you.” The words were barely above a whisper, yet somehow they hit harder than anything else he’d said. Your heart was beating so hard it hurt and for a moment neither of you moved. Neither of you breathed. You simply stared at each other before you stood and the movement made Yunho blink, eyes following you immediately. Confused, hopeful and a little worried.

“You want me.” It wasn’t a question but your words made Yunho’s throat bob as he nodded like he couldn’t trust his voice anymore and the look in his eyes nearly destroyed you as a tiny smile tugged at your lips. “Then come have me.” And for a second, Yunho simply stared. Like his brain had completely stopped functioning.

Then his chair scraped against the floor so loud heads turned to stare a little as he followed you out the bar.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The front door of your apartment barely clicked shut behind you before the tension that had been building all evening, for years, snapped like a live wire. Yunho’s hands were already on your waist, spinning you around and pressing you back against the wood paneling as his mouth found yours in a deep, hungry kiss finally. His tongue slid against yours with urgent need, tasting faintly of the drinks you’d had and the shots he downed. He pulled back just enough to breathe the words against your lips, voice low and rough. “You want me?”

You laughed softly, the sound turning into a gasp when his hips rolled forward to pin you tighter. “Obviously, blondie.” He grinned and then moved. Both of you pulled and tugged at each other’s clothes not wasting anymore time because you already waited years and both of you were impatient now. Shirts tugged over heads, pants shoved down legs, socks kicked aside, Yunho almost tripped once, until both of you stood in nothing but underwear, breathing hard as Yunho’s gaze raked over your body, pupils blown wide, before he bent and lifted you effortlessly.

Your legs wrapped around his waist as he carried you down the short hallway, mouth never leaving yours except to nip at your jaw, tongue gliding against your skin as he shouldered open the door to his bedroom and lowered you onto the edge of the bed wasting no time to start kissing his way down your throat, across your collarbones, pausing to suck lightly at the swell of each breast still covered by your bra. You reached behind yourself and unclasped it, letting the fabric fall away and Yunho’s hands immediately replaced it, palms warm as they cupped and squeezed, thumb stroking over one nipple before he leaned down to take it into his mouth. “Fuck….” You gasped as groaned against you, sucking harder, letting his teeth graze before moving to do the same thing to your other one as he hooked his fingers into the waistband of your panties and drew them down your thighs, slow and deliberate.

He gave one more little nip at your nipple before sliding down and dropping to his knees between your legs, hooking one over his shoulder as he kissed the inside of one thigh, then the other, working higher with open mouthed presses of his lips and your fingers threaded into his hair, gripping the bleached strands as he finally reached your center and his tongue dragged a long, flat stripe up your folds before circling your clit.

He took his time, licking and sucking with focused attention, occasionally dipping lower to push his tongue inside you in slow, deliberate little thrusts. A low groan vibrated against you when his own hand slipped into his boxers to wrap around his dick, stroking in time with the rhythm of his tongue just enough to edge himself as your hips started rocking against his face and the wet sounds of his mouth to fill the room. “Yunho…. I’m….” You could feel it, between the way he would rotate plunging his tongue insult to moving back up to suck your aching clit into to his mouth. You could feel your wetness, juices leaking against his chin, smearing, covering his face.

“FUCK!” Your orgasm slammed against you, coming with a sharp cry, thighs trembling around his head while he kept licking through every pulse and your grip tightened in his hair, eyes rolling back a little as he kept going until you couldn’t take it anymore. You tugged him upward by his hair and didn’t miss the way he moaned at his hair being pulled. “I need you inside me now.”

Yunho stood in one fluid motion, you certainly did not have to tell him twice. He shoved his boxers down, catching your ankles and pulling you toward the edge of the mattress, lifting you into his lap as he sat back on the bed, kissing you as you both could feel his tip aching against you, precum smearing at your entrance. “Look at me.” His voice was rough, raspy, as he pressed his forehead against yours. “You want this?” He held you up, giving enough space for the head of his dick to just barely slip inside you. “You want me to bury myself inside you and make you mine?”

“Please….” You hated that it sounded as if you were desperate and begging but you literally were and it was enough to make him groan as held you, sinking you down onto him in one smooth glide and both of you moaned at the stretch, at the years of wanting finally released. He held you there for a moment, forehead staying pressed to yours, letting you adjust to the deep fullness until you began to move, rising and sinking in steady bounces.

Every downward stroke seated him fully, the angle hitting that perfect spot inside you. It didn’t take long before the pressure crested again, you were to full, the knowledge of him taking you almost too much and you could feel it already, hitting you to fast. You clenched around him and felt yourself squirt, wetness spilling over his thighs and Yunho’s control fractured. “Holy shit, baby….” He laid you flat on the bed and drove into you harder, hips snapping forward while you kept coming in messy pulses around him. He leaned down to kiss you, swallowing your cries as your hands yanked at his hair which only fueled him to pound into you faster.

Another orgasm rolled through you, legs shaking uncontrollably, your moan formed into a cry of his name and Yunho pulled out, mouth returning to your pussy to lap at the fresh slick while you were still coming, tongue slipping inside you again as your walls clenched with aftershocks, and the moan he let out like you watching and having you come apart was the best thing to ever happen to him almost made you come again if he hadn’t pulled back and flipped you onto your stomach.

His hands gripped your hips to pull you back onto your knees, pressing you down into the mattress with one big hand between your shoulder blades, gripping his dick in his other hand, teasing his tip at your ass for a minute before moving it back down and thrusting back inside your overstimulated pussy from behind, going a little slower now, savoring the way you gripped him. “Always wanted this,” he murmured, voice thick. “Wanted you like this, taking every inch.” One hand slid around to your front, fingers finding your swollen clit. “Whose pussy is it?”

You tried to answer but all you could manage for a moment were whimpers, small little cries. “Yours,” you gasped, pushing back to meet him. “It’s your pussy.” The words seemed to ignite something in him. His pace quickened, hips slapping against your ass with each deep thrust as he pulled you upright against his chest, one arm banded across your waist to hold you steady while he continued pounding up into you. The new angle keeping him buried to the hilt, and the steady friction soon had you coming again, body arching back into him.

“Fuck…” Yunho reached up, hand wrapping around your throat, tilting your head back as he could feel his dick twitch. “Mine.” He groaned, thrusts frantic and gone as held you there right, coming, groaning your name as he filled you, hot pulses flooding deep inside you while his arms tightened around you, keeping you close through the aftershocks, pressing kisses along your shoulder and neck as both of you caught your breath, the room quiet except for the sound of your mingled breathing.

For a long moment, neither of you moved. The room was quiet except for the soft hum of the fan in the corner and the sound of your breathing slowly finding its rhythm again. The adrenaline that had carried you from the bar to the apartment was finally beginning to settle, leaving behind something warmer. Softer and real as Yunho rolled onto his back with a groan, one arm immediately reaching for you before you’d even fully settled beside him. Like it was instinct. Like after spending years wanting you, he couldn’t quite convince himself that this wasn’t some elaborate dream his brain had invented.

Then, after a moment, Yunho smiled. Dangerously teasing. The same look he always wears whenever he knows he was about to win an argument. He tilted his head slightly and chuckle escaped him. “You really do like blondes, huh?”

You laughed immediately, then reached up and pushed the hair back from his forehead, fingers lingering there and the teasing expression disappeared from Yunho’s face as he watched you. Watched the fond smile pull at your mouth.

“Mhmmm,” you hummed then you leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “But I like just Yunho too.”

And for a second, he simply stared before the biggest smile you’d ever seen spread across his face. And somehow, impossibly, that smile was better than the blonde hair.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════