I Write Smut For Black Women 🤎

He wrapped the towel around his neck, heading toward the kitchen. Mingi was standing at the counter shirtless, sun catching little highlights in his dark hair as he took a long sip from a can. His phone was next to him, already displaying flights. Tropical islands. Oceanfront villas. He looked relaxed. At ease. Yunho felt anything but. “She knows?” he asked finally.

Mingi glanced over. “About the trip? Yeah. I already told her.” Yunho leaned against the counter, arms crossed. “Why am I just hearing about it now?” Mingi shrugged. “Wanted to make sure you’d say yes.” Yunho scoffed under his breath, looking away. “You could’ve just asked.”

“No,” Mingi said, smiling now, too calm, too knowing. “You would’ve said no.” Yunho met his eyes. “What makes you think that?” Mingi’s smile widened. “Because you’ve practically been avoiding her since we started dating.” There it was. That casual Mingi way of saying something that sounded like a joke but hit a little too close to the truth. Yunho’s jaw ticked. “We don’t exactly get along.”

“Exactly,” Mingi said, pushing off the counter to grab his phone. “That’s why this trip’s perfect. Beach, booze, warm water. You can stop pretending to hate each other. Or at least swim while doing it.” Yunho’s stomach knotted. He didn’t hate you. He couldn’t hate you. Not when he still remembered the first night Mingi brought you around. Not when he still woke up sometimes with the taste of your name in his mouth like a sin he hadn’t confessed. Not when he still wanted to throw things every time he saw you kiss his best friend and not him.

And Mingi? Mingi didn’t know. Couldn’t know. He’d been clueless from the start. Just like you. Yunho swallowed hard. “You sure she wants me there?” Mingi’s eyes flashed something, mischief? challenge? Before he grinned and tapped purchase on his phone screen. “Yunho,” he said, voice light as the ocean breeze he’d just booked. “She wants you exactly where I want you. Right next to me.”

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You were already regretting everything. The second Mingi pulled up to the curb at Incheon after picking you up, grinning behind the wheel like this was the start of a dream vacation and not a potential murder between you and his best friend, you knew, deep in your soul, that something was going to go horribly wrong. That something was currently standing behind you, dragging his sleek black carry on like it personally offended him, eyes hidden behind tinted sunglasses and a hoodie that only made him look more smug.

Yunho. Why the hell did Mingi have to invite Yunho? “Do you even know how to walk in a straight line?” you snapped as his suitcase bumped into the back of your ankle for the third time in the check in line. “I’m sorry,” Yunho said flatly. “Didn’t realize I had to file for permission to exist in your personal space.” You turned to glare at him. “It’s a ten foot airport line, not a war zone. You don’t need to stand so close.” He raised an eyebrow. “I’m literally just standing here.”

“No, you’re hovering,” you shot back. “Breathing down my neck like some creepy TSA agent.” Yunho leaned forward just a little, enough that you could feel his breath against your ear when he murmured, “You’d know if I was breathing down your neck.” Your entire body froze. Mingi, of course, chose that exact moment to come jogging back from the kiosk, blissfully unaware, holding up three boarding passes in one hand and coffee in the other. “Got our seats upgraded!” he beamed. “Extra legroom, aisle and window, oh, and baby, you’re in the middle between me and Yunho.”

Of course you were. You forced a smile as you took your ticket. “Perfect.” Yunho smiled too, one of those fake, polite ones that didn’t reach his eyes, his dimple barely dipping into place. “Can’t wait to be this close to each other for ten straight hours,” he said smoothly, bumping your shoulder as he passed making you narrow your eyes. “Don’t talk to me.”

“Then stop making it so easy.” Yunho snapped back as you turned to Mingi. “If he dies on this trip, it’s your fault.” Mingi just grinned, wrapping an arm around your waist and handing you your coffee. “You two are gonna get along great by the end of this.” Yunho coughed something that sounded suspiciously like “delusional.” And just like that, you were being herded through security with one hand in Mingi’s and Yunho’s voice in your ear like a mosquito you couldn’t slap away.

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You were going to kill him. Not in a hypothetical, exaggerated kind of way. No, this was a fully premeditated, absolutely justified, internationally defensible act of murder. You were going to strangle Jeong Yunho with your complimentary airline blanket and no jury would convict you. Because it had only been an hour. One hour into the flight and he had already managed to piss you off beyond measure. “Could you not elbow me every five seconds?” you hissed under your breath, shifting closer to Mingi, who was dead asleep and drooling softly on your shoulder.

Yunho didn’t even look up from his ipad where he was watching something. “Could you not sit like you’re trying to defend a throne?” You blinked. “I’m sitting normally.” You hissed at him. “You’re sitting like you paid for two seats and one of them was mine.” Yunho retorted, glaring at you. You looked down. One leg tucked, one arm firmly planted between you and Mingi, spine stiff against the headrest. “I’m in the middle,” you snapped. “The middle gets both armrests. That’s the rule.”

Yunho turned to you slowly. Finally looking at you. “That’s not a rule. That’s a social contract created by people who don’t have elbows this size.” You stared at him. Then at his ridiculously broad shoulders. The way his knees splayed into your space like he owned the damn row. His thigh was brushing against yours and he wasn’t even pretending to pull away. “Do you need a measuring tape? Or just a lesson in basic human decency?”

He grinned, and oh god, it was the smug one. The one that made you want to throw your complimentary peanuts at his face and would never admit out loud made you want to clench your thighs. “You offering to teach me?” You opened your mouth, but the words stuck. Because somewhere in the background, Mingi made a soft, snuffling sound and burrowed closer into your other shoulder like a golden retriever with no idea that the other two members of his travel party were one argument away from a full on in flight brawl or hate sex. Probably both. Definitely both.

You inhaled deeply. “This is going to be the longest ten hours of my life.” Yunho casually reached down, grabbed the inflight blanket from his bag, and tossed it into your lap. “Then go to sleep.” You did not let your eyes drop to his hands.

Or the way the edge of his shirt had ridden up just enough to show a sliver of toned skin. Or the fact that your thighs were still touching. You definitely didn’t wonder what else he was planning to start.

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Yunho hadn’t slept. Not the night before. Not on the plane.

He was too busy spiraling. He’d told himself it would be fine. That he could handle one trip. One villa. One week of polite conversation and avoidance and secretly cataloging every single outfit you packed while pretending not to look. He was so fucking delusional. Because you were right there. Wedged between him and Mingi, fuming, sighing, practically vibrating with the same sharp energy you always brought to the room, like your presence alone upset the gravitational pull of everything around you. Yunho hadn’t even touched his in flight snacks. You’d eaten yours with annoyed little crunches, like every chip was revenge. And somehow that was hot. Everything you did pissed him off and turned him on in equal measure.

Your perfume still lingered in the air. Something floral and soft and sweet and utterly unfair. Every breath dragged it deeper into his lungs, into the part of his brain that still whispered, you could’ve had her. Because he could have.

Once. For about six hours. Before Mingi came back from the damn convenience store after that party and lit up like a firecracker at the sight of you.

And Yunho? He’d smiled. Laughed even. Slapped Mingi’s back and said, go for it, bro. Then went home and tried to forget the way your laugh had slid under his skin. Now, months later, here you were, arms crossed, sharp tongue, everything he couldn’t touch. Looking at him like he was the problem. Like he was the one who always started it. You shifted slightly in your seat, and Yunho stiffened as your thigh brushed his. Again. You didn’t move. Neither did he.

Mingi, dead asleep to your left, had your head resting lightly against his shoulder. You looked like something out of a goddamn dream. Eyes closed. Mouth soft. Neck tilted just enough to expose the edge of your collarbone. Yunho hated that he noticed that. He hated that he noticed how you breathed. How your leg warmed his through layers of denim. How you always smelled like forbidden sweetness and soap and everything that was not his.

He turned his face to the window. Closed his eyes. Tried to breathe. It didn’t work. His fingers twitched against the armrest. The same one you’d fought him over. The one you were now dominating completely, your elbow casually grazing his like you hadn’t declared war over it twenty minutes ago. You made him feel like a live wire. Like a fool. Like a man on the edge of something irreversible as his thoughts screamed, I was going to ask you out that night. He’d almost said it. Twice.

Once during Mingi’s birthday dinner, when you wore that blue dress and called Mingi “baby” and Yunho had to excuse himself just to breathe. Once again last month, after drinks when you argued with him over nothing and left him so hard and frustrated that he’d had to jerk off in the shower with your voice still echoing in his head. But he hadn’t said it. And now you were here. Trapped beside him in a metal tube flying over the Pacific. And God help him, he didn’t know if he’d survive the week.

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The second Yunho stepped out of the airport, the humidity hit him like a slap. Thick, fragrant, alive. Palm trees lined the pickup zone. A couple in matching leis kissed obnoxiously next to a taxi. A group of frat boys were already cracking open beers out of their luggage. And then you walked out behind Mingi and Yunho forgot how to breathe. You’d changed on the plane, somewhere between turbulence and that moment you finally fell asleep and curled unconsciously into Yunho’s side. Now, you were in denim shorts so short they barely counted as legal, a white tank top knotted at the waist, sunglasses perched on your head, and your hair pulled, messy, that looked like it had been made specifically to ruin his self control kind of way.

He stared for a second too long and you caught it. “Take a picture, Jeong,” you said, dragging your suitcase with one hand. “It’ll last longer.” Mingi didn’t catch the edge in your voice. He was too busy squinting at his phone. “We’ve got a shuttle coming,” he said brightly. “Gonna take us to the rental place about ten minutes out. I got us something fun.” Yunho didn’t like the way he said fun. Fifteen minutes later, the three of you were crammed into the back of a shuttle van with plastic seats, no AC, and a driver who insisted on giving full historical facts about Maui while taking the longest route imaginable.

You were in the middle again. Of course. Mingi’s thigh pressed to your right, casual, comfortable. Familiar. Yunho’s thigh pressed to your left, tense, rigid, simmering. He didn’t say anything when your leg brushed his. You didn’t apologize either. He clenched his jaw and looked out the window like the ocean wasn’t mocking him as finally they pulled into the rental lot. It was mostly bland sedans and minivans… until Mingi stopped in front of a candy apple red Jeep Wrangler with the roof off. “Tell me that’s not ours,” Yunho muttered.

Mingi grinned, throwing his arms out. “Surprise!” You lit up. “No way. That’s actually kind of hot.” Yunho watched as Mingi opened the door for you. You tossed your bag in the back and climbed into the passenger seat without a second thought. Your legs stretched out, knees bare in the sun, head tilted back as the breeze caught your hair. Yunho gritted his teeth and walked around to the back, tossing his bag in harder than necessary. Mingi was already behind the wheel, sunglasses on, one hand on the steering wheel like he was posing for a photo shoot. “Come on, Yunho,” he called. “You’re riding in the back with the bags!”

Yunho gave him a withering look and Mingi just smiled. “Unless you wanna sit in her lap?” You threw your head back with a groan. “I will literally throw myself into traffic.” Yunho slid into the back with a grunt, knees knocking against beach towels and a cooler, face tilted toward the sky that came with the ride as the Jeep peeled out of the parking lot and headed toward the coastline.

You glanced back at Yunho once. He caught it. Didn’t say a word. But he saw your mouth twitch. Almost a smirk and Yunho closed his eyes with a sigh, mind telling at him in anticipation and annoyance, this week is going to kill me.

The Jeep smelled like sunscreen and leather and the ghost of restraint Yunho used to have as wind whipped through the open windows, rustling your hair across the back of your seat, and the sun had started dipping higher in the afternoon sky, turning the coastline bright as Mingi hummed along to the Bluetooth playlist, sliding his hand onto your thigh. Not discreetly. Not quickly. No.

He did it with casual ease, palm spreading over bare skin like he’d done it a thousand times. Like you were his. Like no one else in the car existed.

Yunho felt his stomach twist. You didn’t even flinch. You just smirked like you were proud of it. Like you wanted him to see as Mingi leaned in closer, sunglasses pushed into his hair now, that relaxed island energy pouring off him in waves. “You smell like coconut,” he murmured, loud enough for Yunho to hear over the wind. Your laugh was low, breathy. “That’s your fault. You packed my lotion.” Mingi’s hand inched slightly higher, thumb brushing over the hem of your shorts, and Yunho had to glance away, eyes locking on the horizon like the ocean might save him from saying or doing something he couldn’t take back.

“You guys wanna stop for drinks before the villa?” Mingi asked suddenly, glancing at the rearview like Yunho hadn’t been forced to watch soft porn from the backseat. “No,” Yunho said tightly. “I want to get to the house.” You turned in your seat, sunglasses pushed down just enough to meet his eyes. “Aw. Are you tired, sunshine?” He didn’t answer. But God, he hated how your voice wrapped around that word as Mingi squeezed your thigh.

Yunho’s hand curled into a fist against his knee. “I think he’s cranky,” you told Mingi, turning back around with a smile in your voice. “Should’ve let him nap on the plane.” You teased making Yunho glare at you. “Could’ve napped on your shoulder,” Mingi said. “Worked great for me.” And Yunho knew Mingi didn’t mean anything by it. He was just like that. Affectionate. Unbothered. Shameless.

But there was something in the way he said it. In the way he touched you. In the way he smiled when Yunho didn’t respond. Like he knew. Like this wasn’t just a trip. Like it was a setup. A test against every emotion and feeling and urge Yunho had when it came to you as the jeep rolled to a stop at the villa.

It was all white walls, pale wood, and sunlight, wide open to the ocean breeze, every door a sliding panel, every window a frame for something breathtaking. Yunho hated how perfect it was. “You’re kidding,” you said as you stepped into the main living area, eyes widening. “This is… insane.” Mingi tossed the keys on the counter and threw his arms out dramatically. “Only the best for us, baby.” Yunho followed a step behind, dragging his suitcase and trying not to look at the way your tank top rode up when you stretched to peek out the glass doors. The view spilled out over the cliffs, ocean glinting blue and endless. A hammock swayed gently near the edge of the deck, and a low pool curved around the side of the house like it had been poured there by hand. “I call the room with the view,” you called over your shoulder.

Yunho didn’t bother going to look for a room. Not immediately. He stared at the door you disappeared behind and counted to five. Then followed. The hallway split into two doors. One on the right. One on the left. And between them, a shared bathroom, the door already cracked open. “Baby!” you called out. “This one has a bathtub. And one of those rain shower things.”

“Dibs,” Mingi said immediately, squeezing past Yunho with his suitcase in tow. Yunho hovered, glancing between the rooms. Both had massive windows. Breezy decor. Crisp white sheets and mosquito nets draped artfully over the beds. Hardwood floors that echoed under bare feet. But only one room had an open suitcase with a bikini already tossed on the bed. Yours and Mingi’s. And that bathroom door? Wide open between you.

You stepped out of the bathroom with a grin, towel slung around your neck already. Yunho stared. He couldn’t help it. Your shorts. Your smile. The way your skin glowed in the golden light. “Guess we’re neighbors,” you said breezily, brushing past him to grab something from your bag making Yunho’s brain not register the words until after the breeze of your perfume hit his nose. Neighbor. Bathroom. One wall away. Kill me, he thought.

Mingi flopped on the bed. “You cool with this room, bro?” Yunho nodded tightly, already dragging his bag into the opposite side of the hallway. “Yeah,” he said, eyes still on the connecting door. “It’s perfect.”

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The sun was low enough now that the walls of the villa glowed amber, shadows stretching long across the hardwood floors. Somewhere outside, waves crashed in slow rhythm, and the air smelled like salt and something citrusy from your perfume that kept bleeding into Yunho’s bloodstream every time you passed by. He was in the bathroom, barely buttoning his shirt, when Mingi called from the hallway. “Let’s go, come on. Reservations in twenty!”

Yunho grunted a response, tugging his sleeves up to his elbows. He didn’t know why he was even trying. Dinner wasn’t going to fix the ache in his chest, and it sure as hell wasn’t going to stop the way he’d been seeing you all day. In that tank top earlier. Those tiny shorts. The bikini folded on yours and his best friend’s bed. He splashed cold water on his face. It didn’t help. He stepped out into the hallway and when he saw you, everything stopped. You were standing just outside yours and Mingi’s room, one hand adjusting the thin crisscrossed straps around your neck, the other smoothing the fabric of your dress. If it could even be called that. It was sky blue and barely there, the material clinging to your skin like it didn’t want to let go. The front was knotted, open just enough to reveal a teasing strip of your stomach, and the hem swayed flirtatiously high above your knees.

Yunho’s lungs forgot how to operate. His gaze dropped to your legs, slowly dragging back up across your bare skin, your waist, your….. You caught him staring and smirked. And then, fucking hell, you did a little spin. Just to show the open back. “Too much?” you asked, turning your head over your shoulder. Yunho opened his mouth but nothing came out as Mingi walked up behind you, sunglasses perched on his head, shirt unbuttoned halfway down his chest like a vacation model. “Nah,” he said, sliding an arm around your waist and pressing a kiss to your bare shoulder. “You look hot.”

Yunho looked away so fast it made his neck ache. His heart was pounding. Fists clenched. Shirt sticking to the back of his neck even though the breeze rolled in from the balcony. You were giggling now, adjusting Mingi’s collar for him, totally unaware, or maybe completely aware, of the chokehold you had on his best friend as Yunho turned back toward the bathroom under the pretense of grabbing something. He shut the door behind him and braced both hands against the sink.

Fuck. Fuck, fuck, fuck. The dress. Your skin. Your fucking smile when you saw him looking. He closed his eyes and took a breath. One week. Just one fucking week. You can get through this. Just pretend she doesn’t exist. He repeated those words to himself three times before Mingi’s voice echoed from the hallway again. “Yunho! You ready?” Yunho opened the door, forcing a tight smile. “Let’s eat.”

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The restaurant was stunning. Open air, candlelit, the sound of waves just beyond the wooden deck. Tiki torches flickered gently against the fading sky, casting everyone in that golden glow that made even tourists look like influencers. You should’ve been relaxed. You should’ve been enjoying it. But then Yunho opened his mouth. And of course, you weren’t. “I’m just saying,” he said, elbow on the table, fork lazily spinning, “it’s not technically a volcano if it hasn’t erupted in, like, hundreds of years.”

You blinked, narrowing your eyes as Mingi glanced up from his poke bowl like he was sensing a shift in barometric pressure. “It’s literally called a dormant volcano,” you said, calmly. “That’s still a volcano.” You were seriously on the verge of strangling him. “Is it, though?” Yunho asked, already smirking. “Feels like a fraud. It’s just a fancy mountain at that point.” You glared at him. “It’s a volcano. It has lava.”

“Had,” he corrected, lifting his drink. “Past tense. Can’t prove it still does.” You clenched your jaw. “Do you want to go hike into one and find out?” He shrugged. “I just think it’s unfair to the active ones. Don’t steal credit if you’re not putting in work.” Mingi made a soft, dying noise as you turned your full body toward Yunho. “So what, by that logic, if you stopped running your mouth for more than five minutes, should we all assume you’re no longer annoying?” Yunho raised a brow. “So you admit I’m usually on fire.” You scoffed. “I admit you’re exhausting.” He smiled like he’d won. “Better than being wrong about volcanos.”

“I’m not wrong,” you bit back. “You just don’t understand basic science.” You were almost yelling now as Yunho grinned. “Oh, I understand it just fine. I just enjoy watching you twitch when I challenge you.” Mingi set his chopsticks down. “You two…” he said slowly, like a man teetering on the edge of spiritual surrender. “Are arguing. About geology.”

“He started it,” you muttered as Yunho rolled his eyes. “She’s the one who made it personal,” Mingi rubbed his temples. “I just wanted poke and a peaceful sunset.” You didn’t respond. You were too busy glaring at the way Yunho was sipping his drink like this was fun for him. Because it was. You knew it was. Every time you opened your mouth, he lit a match and waited to see how long it would take you to burn. And you hated how much you enjoyed striking back.

Ten minutes later and you were trying to stab your poke bowl without looking like you were trying to stab your poke bowl. Yunho was doing his usual routine, annoying, smug, and somehow still managing to look good while being completely insufferable. He was halfway through arguing about whether the ocean was more “lake or soup energy” when the waitress returned. “Hi again!” she chirped, all bright smiles and long tan legs. “Just checking in. Do we need anything? More drinks? Dessert menus?”

Before anyone could answer, she turned directly to Yunho. “And you,” she smiled, letting it linger. “let me guess…. You’re a mai tai guy?” Yunho blinked. Then, of course, he smiled. That slow, low effort, weaponized smile that showed his dimple and made people do stupid things. “Depends,” he said, setting his water down. “Do you recommend it?” Her laugh was high and flirty. “Oh, I can definitely recommend something.”

Mingi made a sound that suspiciously resembled a cough snort making you kick him under the table. Hard. He bit his lip and said nothing as the waitress tucked her hair behind one ear, now fully locked in on Yunho. “If you like something sweet, I can bring out my favorite. It’s not on the menu yet.” You reached for your drink and you were sure your eyes had never rolled so hard before in your life. You weren’t jealous. Obviously. This was just… a classic case of restaurant flirtation. Yunho was hot, in a rude, tall, smug jackass sort of way. Of course people flirted with him.

It meant nothing. Except Mingi was watching you now. That small, knowing smile tugging at the corner of his mouth.

Like he knew exactly what was happening behind your eyes as you stabbed a cucumber slice with way more force than necessary. “Maybe we’re good on drinks,” you said lightly, not even looking at her. “Unless someone needs another ego boost.” Yunho tilted his head, eyes cutting to you. “Wow. Didn’t realize I was already drunk on validation.” You smiled sarcastically at him. “Yeah, well, you’re a lightweight.”

“I’m 6’2 and 180 pounds and I’m drinking water….”

“And yet one smile from a waitress and you’re giggling like a teenage girl in a Kdrama.” You snapped and the waitress blinked, clearly unsure what she’d walked into. “I’ll… just give you guys a few minutes,” she said, quickly retreating. You kept your eyes on your plate as Mingi sipped his drink like it was tea and Yunho exhaled slowly. “You always this territorial or just when it’s about me?”

Your fork stopped mid air. “I’m not territorial,” you said. “I just have a low tolerance for fake flirtation and shared brain cells that give me a migraine when I’m trying to enjoy myself.” Yunho leaned forward, elbows on the table, smirk back in place. “Sure. That’s why your eyes rolled into the back of your head when she touched my arm.”

You opened your mouth to respond, but Mingi beat you to it. “Should I get the dessert menu or just sit here quietly while my girlfriend murders my best friend with her eyeballs?” You shoved a spoonful of rice into your mouth to avoid answering as Yunho just leaned back in his chair and smiled like he’d just won a silent game you hadn’t even realized you were playing.

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The villa was quiet. Too quiet. Dinner had ended with a weird hum between you and Yunho, one part tension, one part leftover sarcasm, and two parts that thing neither of you would name. Mingi, oblivious or pretending to be, had paid the bill with a kiss to your cheek and an arm slung casually around your shoulders and Yunho hadn’t said much the entire ride back. And now, standing barefoot in the hallway with a glass of water in one hand and his phone untouched in the other, he watched it happen.

You grabbed Mingi’s hand. Pulled him down the hall. Laughed, soft, breathy. You didn’t look back as the bedroom door opened with a quiet creak, and Yunho’s entire body locked up when Mingi paused, half turned to call over his shoulder. “Night, man!” Yunho didn’t answer. Didn’t move. He just stood there, heart kicking against his ribs like a warning bell. The door clicked shut. The hall light flickered above him once. Twice. And then he was alone. Glass still in his hand. Knuckles white around the stem.

He swallowed hard. The water tasted like nothing as your laugh echoed faintly through the wall behind him, and Yunho almost flinched. Not from the sound itself, but from how familiar it was. How he could picture exactly what you looked like when you laughed like that. Head tilted back. Eyes scrunched. Lips parted. He squeezed his eyes shut. It was none of his business. It was never going to be his business.

You were with Mingi. And Mingi was the one who got there first. The one who didn’t even know he’d beat Yunho to you. The one who trusted him. Who had no idea that Yunho still sometimes dreamed about what it would’ve been like if he’d just spoken up that night. Yunho exhaled through his nose then turned, slowly, walking back to his own room. The bathroom door between your rooms was closed. But he stood in front of it for a beat too long.

The light under the crack flickered faintly. He heard your voice, low, close. A laugh. A sigh. Then a moan. He pressed his forehead gently against the wood, eyes still closed. And stayed there. Just for a moment. Long enough to feel the ache spread down his spine and into his chest like something he wouldn’t name before finally turning away.

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The villa was still. Birds sang outside. Light breeze pushing white curtains in gentle sways. The scent of ocean salt mixed with fresh linen and the faintest trace of Mingi’s shampoo on your skin. It was early, stupidly early, but your body had refused to stay asleep. You slipped out of bed quietly, leaving Mingi snoring lightly in the tangled sheets, and padded down the hallway in one of his oversized tshirts. The air was cooler than expected, soft against your skin. The kitchen was flooded with that perfect island morning light, cool shadows and slanted rays stretching across the wood floors.

You made it halfway to the fridge before you froze. Because outside, through the wide glass doors leading to the deck, someone was in the pool. Yunho. Your bare feet stopped mid step. He hadn’t seen you yet. He was swimming laps, slow, steady, each movement clean and fluid, like he’d done it a thousand times. The water shimmered around him. His hair was slicked back, face relaxed, eyes closed as he surfaced at the far end and gripped the edge of the pool. And he was shirtless. Your heart kicked once. You’d never seen him shirtless before. Not really. Maybe glimpses. A towel wrapped low after a beach day. A tank top. But this was different.

The sharp cut of his shoulders. The way his back curved as he exhaled. The muscles in his arms flexing slightly as he pulled himself halfway up onto the ledge to sit. Water dripped down his chest in long, lazy rivulets. You stared. Like an idiot. Mouth slightly open. And for just a second, you forgot all the things you were supposed to feel. The irritation. The anger. The loyalty to the man still asleep in your bed. Because all you could feel right now was heat. Low in your stomach. Buzzing behind your ribs as Yunho pushed his hands through his hair. Then glanced up. Your breath caught as he saw you and didn’t look away.

He stood up and your breath caught. The second he made eye contact through the glass door, there was a shift in the air, like he’d made a decision and you were just going to have to deal with it. And then he walked inside. No towel. No shirt. Just dripping wet, black swim trunks clinging to him like second skin. You turned so fast you nearly whacked your hip on the fridge.

The sound of the sliding glass door closing behind him was too loud in the otherwise silent kitchen. The drip drip drip of water hitting the hardwood echoed like a goddamn metronome as you tried focusing on the counter. The fruit bowl. The nothing in your hand. Anything except him. “Morning,” he said casually, voice still rough from sleep and saltwater. You cleared your throat. “You’re… uh. You’re dripping. Everywhere.”

He laughed once, low and unbothered. “Didn’t feel like grabbing a towel.” You risked a glance. Mistake. The swim shorts, black, low slung, soaked, left absolutely nothing to the imagination. The material clung to every curve, every outline, water still sliding down the V of his hips, over his abs, down his thighs. And there. God help you. Even soft, he was… Okay. Okay. You swallowed and forced your eyes back to the sink like it held answers to life’s biggest questions. “Pretty sure Mingi would kill you if you warped the floors considering he’s paying…” you muttered, playing it off, grabbing a mug you absolutely didn’t need just to keep your hands busy.

Yunho didn’t respond right away as he moved further into the kitchen, and you could feel it. The heat of him. The way the air shifted as he got closer, the pause he took like he was deciding if he should actually retort back or not. “Pretty sure Mingi wouldn’t care,” he said quietly. “Especially if he knew you were too distracted to notice.”

Your spine stiffened and you turned slowly, mug in hand. “Excuse me?” He was closer than he had any right to be. Just a few steps away, arms crossed now, droplets of water trailing from his hair down his collarbones. His eyes locked on yours, calm and unreadable. “Just saying,” he said, voice low, like he wasn’t actively trying to destroy you before 8:00 am. “You’re acting real annoyed for someone who won’t stop looking.”

Your fingers clenched around the handle of the mug as you met his gaze head on, even as your pulse did a whole damn drum solo under your skin. “I’ve seen better.” It was only a half lie because Mingi was just as big, had you just as spiraling as you are now when you first saw him too.

Yunho smiled. That slow, devastating kind of smile that made you want to both slap him and climb him like a tree. “Sure you have.” And then he walked past you, dripping water across the floor like it was a challenge.

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Yunho thought nothing else today could throw him off balance. He’d survived waking up too early. He’d survived seeing you in the kitchen with bed hair, wearing Mingi’s shirt and nothing else. He’d survived walking into the villa sopping wet, only to be met with your wide eyed, not so subtle stare down his body. But then you walked out in those shorts and he nearly blacked out. They weren’t even full shorts. They were…. what even were they? Denim laced up your hips like a damn corset. Ribbons tied into delicate little bows on your thighs, framing the bare skin he shouldn’t have been looking at but was. The fabric clung like it had been stitched onto you. And when you bent slightly to grab your phone from the couch?

Yunho felt everything inside him snap like a guitar string stretched too tight. You didn’t notice. Or maybe you did. You just turned to Mingi, grinning like this was any other sunny day on vacation, and said, “Ready?” Mingi chuckled, flipping his keys in one hand. “With you in that outfit? I’m ready for anything.” Yunho rolled his eyes so hard it hurt.

The drive into town was brutal. You were in the passenger seat again, one leg curled up on the dashboard, the shorts riding up criminally. Mingi’s hand rested lazily on your bare thigh like he owned it. Like he wasn’t flaunting it. Like Yunho wasn’t sitting behind you, sunglasses on, staring at his hand on your thigh, fists clenched, practically chewing the inside of his cheek in raw jealousy.

The worst part? Mingi kept glancing at him in the rearview mirror. Not with judgment. Not even with suspicion. But with something knowing. Something that said, I see you. Yunho looked out the window, jaw clenched, pretending the ocean breeze was enough to cool the fire licking up his spine. Don’t look. Don’t look. Don’t…. Your arm shifted. The bow on your hip bounced. He looked again. Fuck.

You laughed at something Mingi said. Tossed your head back. That sound, Yunho wanted to hate it. But it just made his chest ache as Mingi’s thumb brushed up and down your thigh once. Twice. Yunho closed his eyes. Ten more minutes into town. Then maybe he could breathe again.

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It was supposed to be a quick stop. Some overpriced sunglasses. A couple souvenir shops. Maybe a snack before heading back to the villa. But then you crossed the street. You hadn’t even said anything before skipping, literally skipping across the crosswalk in those fucking shorts. Yunho watched your laces bounce as you moved. Mingi was too busy trying on some ridiculous neon green sunglasses to notice as Yunho set his jaw and followed.

The heat clung to his skin. The back of his neck felt tight. He didn’t need shaved ice. He didn’t even like shaved ice. But you were standing in line for it. And someone else was standing too close in front of you. Tourist. Tall. Blonde. Loud enough that Yunho heard every word before he was even close. “You’re not from around here, are you?” You glanced up at him, surprised but smiling. “Is it that obvious?” The guy chuckled. “You look like an Instagram reel. In a good way.”

Yunho’s fists clenched at his sides as you laughed politely. “That line ever work for you before?” The guy grinned down at you. “First time, but I’d say it’s going okay.” Yunho stepped into the line behind you silently. Close enough to hear everything. Close enough that you felt the heat coming off his chest. Close enough that the guy looked past you and clocked him instantly and his smile flickered. Yunho didn’t say a word. Didn’t have to. He just stared, arms crossed, eyes dark behind his sunglasses. Letting the silence hang heavy in the air between you all. Letting the tension settle like fog.

The guy turned back to you, trying to recover. “So, what flavor are you getting?” You shrugged. “I don’t know yet,” you said, suddenly less amused. “Might take a while to decide.” Yunho’s voice retorted flatly from behind you. “Might want to take that to go then.” You looked over your shoulder at him. He was too close. Too warm. Too calm in that Yunho about to snap kind of way. “Why are you here?” you asked, raising a brow and he shrugged. “Guess I got a craving.” Your eyes narrowed. “For shaved ice?” His mouth curved, just barely. “For silence.”

The guy in front of you awkwardly cleared his throat, stepped up to the counter, and placed his order, quickly, quietly, and without another word. You waited a beat, then turned back around. “You know,” you muttered under your breath, “I can fight my own battles.” Yunho leaned down just enough to be heard over the breeze. Voice barely above a whisper. “I’m not fighting for you. I’m warning him.” You didn’t respond. But Yunho saw the way your fingers gripped the hem of your shorts just a little tighter as the guy scurried off with his neon colored snow cone and bruised ego, leaving just the two of you at the stand.

You stepped up next. “Lilikoi and mango,” you said casually, like your pulse wasn’t still racing from the last two minutes. Yunho ordered without looking at you. “Lychee. No syrup.” The vendor handed yours over first, and you took a slow bite, spoon in your mouth, tongue curling around the flavor like you were trying to give him a brain injury. Then you turned, walking a few steps toward the edge of the sidewalk before turning back toward him, arms crossed over your chest, plastic cup balanced in one hand. “You know,” you said, head tilting, voice deceptively calm, “it’s not really your place to scare off other guys, is it?”

Yunho blinked. His grip on the cup tightened, knuckles whitening around the plastic. The condensation slick against his fingers was nothing compared to the heat bubbling up inside him. “Unless something changed while I was asleep last night…” You smiled sweetly.

“that’s Mingi’s job. Not yours.” He didn’t say anything. Didn’t have to. The glare he sent you was enough to freeze the next spoonful of shaved ice before it reached your lips. His jaw tensed. His sunglasses reflected your smirk back at you, but his body betrayed him, tense, hot, vibrating with restraint he didn’t even try to hide.

“Baby!” Mingi’s voice cut through the tension like a knife as he jogged across the street, grinning, stupidly proud of the new aviators on his face. “Check these out! They were on sale.” Yunho straightened immediately, stepping back like he hadn’t just been a breath away from saying something that could’ve split the Earth in half as you turned toward Mingi, flashing him a smile like nothing had happened. “They look hot.” Mingi grinned wider, slipping an arm around your waist and leaning in to press a kiss to your temple. And Yunho? He just stood there. Shaved ice forgotten in his hand. Watching the girl he couldn’t have melt into the arms of his best friend ho had no idea what was really happening three feet away.

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Mingi watched the whole thing from across the street. He’d just finished trying on another pair of sunglasses, ridiculous, wraparound, objectively hideous, when he turned his head and saw the tension playing out between you and Yunho like a scene on a screen he didn’t need sound for. He saw the way that tourist leaned too close to you. Saw how Yunho stepped up behind you like a shadow claiming space. Didn’t hear what was said. Didn’t need to. Because the way that guy stepped back a few inches, scratched the back of his neck, and lost all his swagger? Yeah. Yunho had said something.

Mingi took off the sunglasses and sighed, lips twitching around the rim of his plastic cup of pineapple juice. “Damn, he really might not do it…” That was the thought that stuck as he watched you smirk, spoon in your mouth, and Yunho just standing there behind you with tension in his shoulders and frustration in his fists. He was loyal. Of course he was. He always had been. Mingi had known Yunho wanted you months ago. He hadn’t said it, not directly, but Mingi didn’t need words. He saw it in the way Yunho looked at you the night you met. That one second delay when Mingi introduced you. The way Yunho barely blinked, then smiled a little too wide and nodded a little too fast like he was covering something up.

Mingi knew. And still, he asked you out first. Because he wanted you too. And because he wanted to see. What Yunho would do. How far he’d go. If he’d step in. If he’d break. But Yunho never did. Not even once. Always a little distant. Always a little annoyed. Always pretending it was just dislike, just friction. But Mingi knew better. And now, watching you tease Yunho, seeing how hard Yunho tried not to react, Mingi could feel it, the frustration simmering under the surface of his best friend’s carefully controlled face.

And still… Yunho hadn’t made a move. Not even now. “Maybe he really won’t.” Mingi exhaled slowly and walked toward you after buying a new pair of sunglasses. His hand slipped around your waist with practiced ease, lips brushing your temple. You smiled, leaning into him, unaware of the silent war happening just behind you. Yunho was standing perfectly still, frozen like he wasn’t even breathing. Mingi looked at him. Not long. Just enough.

And Yunho looked back. That was all it took. A single glance. A flicker of something sharp in Yunho’s eyes. And Mingi smiled. He might have to push harder. Because if Yunho was still clinging to his loyalty, Mingi was going to have to make it unbearable. No more subtle setups. No more “accidental” room arrangements or strategic timing. He was going to make Yunho crack. Because he didn’t want him to stay loyal. He wanted him to want you enough to break the rules. And maybe? Maybe he wanted to watch it happen.

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The water was warm, quiet. Night had settled over the island like silk, soft and humid. The pool lights glowed faint blue under the surface, casting waves of color across your skin as you floated lazily, arms out, staring up at the stars. You didn’t hear him approach. But you felt it the second Mingi slipped into the pool behind you. His hands found your waist easily, pulling you back against him with practiced ease. You let your head fall back on his shoulder, humming softly as his lips brushed your temple. “Couldn’t sleep?” you murmured.

“Didn’t want to,” he whispered making you smile, eyes still closed. “Of course you didn’t.” He didn’t answer. Just let his hands roam, down your hips, over the tops of your thighs where your swimsuit dipped low. His mouth found your neck, warm and open, mouthed, kissing beneath your ear before trailing lower. Your breath caught when his teeth grazed your skin. “Mingi,” you warned, barely above a whisper. “Really? Here?” He didn’t reply. Just grinned against your neck and you didn’t plan on stopping him.

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The towel slung around Yunho’s hips was damp. His hair was dripping, skin still flushed from the steam of the shower as he walked barefoot across the villa’s cool tile. He meant to grab a bottle of water. Meant to crash in bed and forget the way you’d looked all day in those ridiculous shorts. The way you’d smirked. The way Mingi had touched you like it meant nothing and everything at the same time. Yunho rubbed a hand through his hair, turned the corner and froze. Because the living room opened into the kitchen. And the kitchen opened to the wide, glass doors facing the pool.

And the pool? The pool held you. Your back arched slightly, arms wrapped behind Mingi’s neck as his hands held you tight under the surface. Your head tilted back, lips parted, throat exposed as his mouth kissed along your collarbone. Yunho didn’t move. Couldn’t. Because then Mingi shifted. And Yunho saw it, saw everything. The way your body jerked forward. The way your thighs curled tighter around Mingi’s waist. The ripple of the water around you as his hips thrust forward, slow, controlled. Fucking you in the pool.

And then Mingi looked up. Right at him. Like he knew. Like he’d been waiting for this exact moment. And he grinned. Not wicked. Not cruel.

Just… knowing. Like he was saying, See it, Yunho.

Feel it. Watch what you’ve always wanted, mine. Yunho didn’t realize his hand had gripped the back of the couch until his knuckles turned white. Didn’t realize he was holding his breath until you moaned, soft, broken, and Mingi buried his face against your neck, still staring straight at him. And Yunho? He couldn’t look away.

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The room was dim, lit only by the low lamp on the nightstand. Mingi was half beneath the sheets, head resting on his arm, one hand still trailing over your bare thigh like he couldn’t stop touching you, even now. Your skin was still damp from the pool. Your body was warm, pulsing, sated. And yet… you couldn’t sleep. Something in the way Mingi was watching you told you he couldn’t either. You looked down at him, brow furrowed. “What?”

His fingers paused for a moment. Then resumed. “I need to tell you something,” he said softly. “And you have to promise not to freak out.” You sat up slightly. “That’s never a great way to start a sentence.” He smiled, tired and genuine. “Yeah. I know.” You waited as he shifted onto his back, staring at the ceiling for a long second before speaking. “I know you want Yunho.” The words hit the air like a ripple. You blinked, mouth parting, heart suddenly hammering against your ribs. “I… what?” you whispered, trying to laugh. “What are you talking about?”

“You think I haven’t noticed?” he said, finally meeting your eyes. “The way you fight with him. The way you watch him when you think no one’s looking?”You opened your mouth again, but he cut you off gently. “It’s okay,” he said. “I’m not mad.” Your stomach flipped. “I know he was going to ask you out,” he continued, voice quiet, steady. “That night. The party where we met? He was going to do it. I know him. But I got to you first.” You stared at him. “He never said anything.”

“He wouldn’t,” Mingi said. “He’s loyal. Too loyal, maybe.” The silence settled between you. Heavy. “You…” you swallowed. “You’re seriously not mad?” Mingi sat up slowly, resting his hand over your knee. “No,” he said. “Because I see it. I see the way he looks at you. Like he’s been starving and you’re the only thing that could feed him.” Your breath caught at his words, heart pounding. “And I see the way you try not to look back,” he added. “The way you pretend you don’t want more.” Your heart was in your throat now. “Mingi, what are you saying?”

He took your hand in his. “I’m saying…” He paused. Inhaled. Exhaled. “I want you to have both of us. If that’s what you want.” Your entire world tilted. “I don’t want you to lie to yourself just to protect me,” he continued. “Not when I’d rather give you everything.” You searched his face for a crack. A catch. Something that told you this was a joke. But it wasn’t. Mingi was serious. Open. Offering you both of them, him and Yunho, like it was the most natural thing in the world. Your voice trembled. “You’d be okay with that?” His thumb brushed over your knuckles. “If it’s him?” He smiled. “Yeah. I’d rather share you than lose you. Especially to the one person I’d trust with you.”

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Yunho hadn’t slept. Not really. He’d laid there, stiff in bed, shirtless, eyes on the ceiling, listening to every sound from the other side of that damn wall. Every breath. Every laugh. Every echo of your voice too soft to make out and too sharp to ignore. And even worse than the sound… The image. Burned behind his eyelids like a cruel gift. Your body arched against Mingi’s.

Water lapping around you.

Your mouth open, head tilted back. Mingi’s hands on your waist. His eyes on Yunho.

That fucking grin. Yunho had stood there long after it ended, still soaked from the shower, still hard, still reeling. He’d stared through the glass like if he looked long enough, he could forget what he’d seen.

He didn’t. And now it was morning. And you were in the kitchen. Wearing a black bikini top that hugged your chest so tightly he was convinced breathing around you was a test of willpower. The straps were thin. Barely there. And your shorts, shorter than yesterday, somehow, hugged your hips with lazy confidence as you bent over the counter, grabbing a banana from the bowl, and Yunho swore under his breath and turned to face the fridge just so he wouldn’t accidentally say something that would end this entire vacation.

Mingi walked in behind you, beach towel slung over his shoulder, sunglasses already on like the morning sun didn’t stand a chance against him. “Ready for the beach?” he asked, slapping Yunho’s back like nothing happened. Like he hadn’t stared him down while fucking you. Yunho nodded stiffly. “Sure.” He didn’t look at you. Didn’t let himself as you turned to Mingi, all easy smiles and bare skin, and reached for his hand like it was just another day and Yunho clenched his jaw.

If last night meant anything… If you knew he’d seen… If Mingi told you….. But no. You were laughing. You were touching. You were fine. He followed behind both of you as you walked out to the Jeep, quiet, hands shoved in his pockets, letting the sunlight blind him just to avoid looking at your bare back and the way your bikini ties bounced against your skin as he climbed into the back seat again. The third wheel. The passenger in his own punishment. And as the Jeep pulled out onto the coast road, wind in your hair and Mingi’s hand resting on your thigh again, Yunho did the one thing he swore he wouldn’t… He remembered the way you moaned. And then he wondered what you’d do if it was his hands on you instead.

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The sun was already high by the time they parked near the beach. It was a quiet stretch, just a few other cars nearby, the scent of sea salt carried on the wind, and the distant sound of waves crashing against the shore. Palms swayed above, casting thin slivers of shade that did absolutely nothing to cool the burn already creeping up the back of Yunho’s neck. Mingi was the first out of the Jeep. He tossed the keys into the center console, stretched, arms overhead, shirt rising up just enough to flash skin and then grabbed the hem and pulled the shirt clean off. Yunho didn’t react. He was used to Mingi being effortlessly good looking, tan and broad, built like the kind of guy who always looked like he belonged in vacation photos. And now? Shirtless. Grinning. Sunglasses on. Towel slung over one shoulder.

Yunho hated how casual it all looked. Then you climbed out of the Jeep. And Yunho forgot how to breathe. Again. You didn’t say anything. Just walked to the back, opened the hatch, grabbed your bag, and then, without fanfare, hooked your thumbs into the sides of your shorts and slid them down your legs. Yunho blinked. Hard. The black bikini bottom was high cut, thin on the sides, hugging your hips in a way that should’ve been illegal. The ties at your waist matched the top, delicate little bows, like an afterthought. Like decoration. Like something someone else was meant to pull loose.

You didn’t look at him. You just balled up your shorts, turned, and tossed them back into the Jeep with a lazy flick of your wrist as Mingi whistled low behind you. “Jesus. Trying to get us kicked off the beach?” You smirked over your shoulder. “If I was trying, you’d know.” Yunho didn’t move. Couldn’t. He stood there, towel clutched in one hand, heart hammering in his chest like you’d reached in and grabbed it yourself. Because he remembered how your hips moved in the pool.

He remembered the sound of your moans. He remembered how Mingi looked him in the eyes while he fucked you.

And now you were just… here. Glowing. Barely dressed. Tossing your clothes around like his self control wasn’t hanging by a thread. He turned away, pretending to mess with the bag in the back of the Jeep. Breathe. Don’t look. Don’t think. But your laugh floated through the air again, sweet and sharp, and Yunho knew this beach day was going to be torture.

The walk down to the sand was maybe fifty yards. Yunho felt every inch of it. Mingi was ahead, already kicking off his sandals and muttering something about the water being warm enough to body surf. The sun bounced off his skin like it belonged there. You walked just behind him, your hips swinging with every step. Yunho couldn’t even pretend not to look. The bikini, God, the bikini was worse in motion. Tiny black strings tied at your hips, the triangle top shifting just enough with every step to make him feel unholy. Your legs looked longer and soft. And when you turned back to glance at him, tossing your hair out of your eyes, he nearly tripped over his own sandals.

He forced his eyes away. Focused on the beach spot Mingi had picked, halfway between the trees and the waterline. He threw the beach bag down and started setting up the umbrella like it was some kind of military grade device. “Need help?” you asked behind him, voice easy. “No,” he said a little too fast, stabbing the pole into the sand. Cool. Calm. Totally unbothered. The umbrella snapped open with a loud whump and nearly caught the wind. Yunho wrestled it into place like it owed him money.

Mingi had already taken off running toward the water, diving in with a whoop that echoed down the beach. Yunho straightened up just as you stepped under the shade beside him. You were close.

Closer than necessary. Your skin was flushed from the sun already, a fine sheen of sweat catching the light across your chest and collarbones. You licked a drop of moisture off your lower lip, totally unaware that Yunho’s brain had fully stopped functioning. “Not going in?” you asked, tilting your head. He shook his head. “I don’t feel like swimming.”

You looked out toward Mingi, bobbing in the waves. “Mingi dives in like a maniac,” you said softly, smiling. “Like the ocean owes him something.” Yunho’s throat worked. “He’s never afraid to get what he wants.” Your eyes flicked to his and the air shifted. Just a little. Your lashes lowered. “That why you’re staying on the sand?” He didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Because the heat radiating off you was real. And the implication behind your words? Realer. And yet… You didn’t move away. You just sat down slowly on your towel, legs folding beneath you, the bikini hugging every curve like it knew he was watching.

And he was watching. Furious with himself for it. But watching. Trying to focus on the sound of the waves. Trying not to look at the way your body stretched out on your towel like an offering.

Trying not to imagine the way your skin would taste with salt and sunscreen and the faint sweetness of coconut oil that had been driving him insane since you stepped out of your room this morning. And he was almost succeeding. Until you looked up at him and said, all soft and casual. “Hey… can you do my back?”

His stomach dropped as you held out the bottle of sunscreen, arm stretched toward him like this was normal. Like this was fine. Like you weren’t deliberately setting him on fire with a smile on your face. He blinked. “I… what?” You pushed yourself up onto your knees, your back arched just slightly as you turned your head to look at him over your shoulder. “I don’t want to burn,” you said, like that explained everything. “I would get Mingi to do it but he’s still out there, pretending he’s in an Olympics ad.” You laughed. Yunho didn’t.

Because his brain had fully short circuited. You were holding your hair up. Your bikini strings hung loose against the slope of your back. There was nowhere for him to look that didn’t feel like sin. He took the bottle slowly, like it might explode. You settled in front of him on the towel, legs folded beneath you, spine straight as he squeezed the lotion into his palm and immediately regretted everything. Because the moment his hands met your skin? He knew he was fucked. Your back was warm, soft. His palms spread it over your shoulders, gliding in wide, even strokes like this was just routine. It wasn’t. Not for him. Not when you shivered slightly at his touch. Not when you let out a soft sigh and tilted your head just enough to the side.

His hands stalled. “You good?” you asked, voice light but teasing. He swallowed. “Yeah. Just… making sure I don’t miss a spot.” You turned your head enough to catch his eyes. And smiled. Innocent. Sweet. Lethal. He kept rubbing the sunscreen in. Down your spine. Over your lower back. His fingers brushed the waistband of your bikini bottom and he swore he felt you lean into it just a fraction. Yunho’s mind was white noise. Salt. Heat. Skin. You. Right here. And Mingi… Mingi was still in the water. But he could feel his gaze anyway. Feel the way it burned into him as his best friend started walking towards them and Yunho quickly finished with the sunscreen and turned away from you.

Mingi flopped down onto the edge of the towel like he hadn’t just let Yunho flounder in a personal hell of sun warmed skin and coconut scented temptation. “I’m starving,” he groaned dramatically, brushing sand off his chest. “But I don’t wanna leave yet. This breeze is so good.” Yunho didn’t even look at him. He was too busy pretending he hadn’t just carved a map of your back into his memory with his hands.

“I’ll go,” Yunho muttered, already standing up and brushing sand off his shorts. “I’ll take the jeep and grab food.” Anything. Anything to get some air. Get his head right. “I’ll come too.” Your voice. Sweet. Casual. Fucking devastating. Yunho blinked down at you. “Why?” You shrugged, reaching for your shorts. “You’ll forget napkins or something stupid. Besides, you don’t know where the good poke bowls are and I already have them marked on my phone.”

Mingi made a noise that was dangerously close to a laugh. “Take my card,” he said, tossing it toward Yunho without looking. “And get me something sweet and some beer.” Yunho caught the card mid air. Barely. His reflexes weren’t at their best when his blood was no longer functioning in his brain. You slipped your shorts on, tied your sarong around your waist, and padded after him like this was all so normal. Like you hadn’t just let him touch you. Like you weren’t slowly dismantling him with your soft little smirks and fake indifference.

He gripped the keys tighter as you climbed into the passenger seat. Mingi leaned back in the sun, sunglasses reflecting the waves, arms folded behind his head like he was watching a plan unfold. Yunho didn’t say anything as he started the jeep. Didn’t say anything as you propped your bare feet up on the dash. Didn’t say anything when you reached into the center console and pulled out his sunglasses, sliding them on with a grin like you knew he was watching you from the corner of his eye. And he was. Because he couldn’t not.

The wind rushed through the open windows, but it didn’t help. Not really. The air was too hot. Your thighs were too bare. Your fucking scent was still on his hands. Yunho gripped the steering wheel harder, watching the road, not because he was focused, but because looking anywhere else was worse. You shifted beside him, your knee brushing his as you got more comfortable. “You okay over there?” you asked, a little teasing edge to your voice. “You’re gripping the wheel like it owes you money.” He didn’t answer right away. Didn’t trust himself to. The muscles in his jaw twitched. “Just driving,” he finally said, flat and voice much deeper than usual.

“Mmm. You’re weird today.”

He cut a look toward you. Big mistake. The way you were leaned back in the seat, hair blown wild, lips glossy, one strap of your top peeking from beneath the knotted sarong like it was trying to slip free…. It was all so intentional. And even if it wasn’t? His brain didn’t care. He looked back at the road. “Do you always flirt with your boyfriend’s best friend?” he asked before he could stop himself and your head turned. “What?”

“Nothing.” Yunho clenched his jaw as you scoffed, a smirk playing at your lips. “No, say it again.” He exhaled through his nose, jaw clenched. “You’re acting different. That’s all.” You scoffed again and he felt your stare even with his eyes glued to the road. “Maybe you’re acting different.” He didn’t respond. Because you weren’t wrong. And when you didn’t get a rise out of him, you pushed harder, because of course you did. “You were real quick to scare that guy off yesterday, and you never did answer when I said it wasn’t your place.”

“You’re with Mingi.” Yunho’s grip on the wheel tightened again. “Yeah. So why are you the one acting jealous?” He hit the brakes just a little too hard at the red light. The silence thickened. You leaned in, voice lower now. “You gonna answer that?” Yunho was sure if he clenched his jaw any tighter, he’d break it. “No,” he said. But it didn’t come out like no. It came out like a warning. The light turned green. He accelerated. But your voice followed him like a hook in his ribs.

“I don’t think Mingi would care if you were,” you said casually. “In fact… I think he’d like it.” Yunho looked at you so fast he almost swerved into a palm tree. You just smiled, legs crossed at the knee, his sunglasses sliding slightly down your nose as you looked back at him over the rim. “Eyes on the road, Yunho.”

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The food shack was small, tucked between a surf rental booth and a local jewelry stand. The line was short, the breeze warm, the air thick with the smell of grilled fish and salt. Yunho stared at the menu, pretending he couldn’t feel your body practically hovering beside his. You weren’t touching him. But you may as well have been. Your fingers brushed the counter next to his, close enough that if he flexed his pinky, it’d graze yours. But he didn’t. God help him, he didn’t. “Two poke bowls,” he told the guy at the register, barely recognizing his own voice. “One with spicy ahi, one with shrimp. Extra rice. Bottle of water. And a….” He glanced at you.

You blinked up at him, like you hadn’t just spent the whole drive melting him from the inside out. “What do you want?” He asked as you leaned in, brushing against his arm as you reached to point at the menu. “Tuna, pineapple, furikake. And a Thai tea.” You didn’t move back. He could feel your skin against his. The bare part of your side where the bikini top didn’t reach. Yunho swallowed. “You heard her,” he muttered to the cashier, handing over Mingi’s card and willing his heart to slow the hell down.

As the guy rang them up, you leaned in closer. And your voice dropped, soft, almost innocent. “You know… when you’re not being annoying…. you’re hot.” He turned his body away slightly, trying to hide the fact that the swim trunks he was wearing were clinging to him in ways he didn’t want you to see again. Not yet. “You’re impossible,” he muttered. You hummed, glancing out toward the ocean where Mingi was probably still laid out like a sun drenched menace without a care in the world. “Mingi likes impossible.”

“Mingi’s not the one who feels like he’s being tested,” Yunho bit out before he could stop himself. You turned slowly. “No?” you asked. “Then who is?” The cashier called out the order number. Yunho snatched the bags and walked away like they were going to save his life as you followed him like you were still hungry.

Yunho balanced the bags in one hand, letting the condensation from the Thai tea drip down his forearm. His shirt clung to his back, either from sweat or stress, he couldn’t tell anymore. You glanced back at him as you opened the passenger door of the Jeep. “We should grab beer,” you said casually. “And something sweet. Mingi said he was craving it. There’s a store down the block,” you replied, not even giving him time to answer before you were walking, no, strutting, away, your sandals clacking against the sunbaked pavement.

Yunho exhaled through his nose. Right. Beer. Something sweet. For Mingi. This was normal. This was fine. This was definitely not you dragging him through a tropical town in a black bikini top and tiny shorts while his blood pressure reached dangerous levels. This wasn’t him noticing the way your hair stuck to your shoulders from the heat, or how the faintest glimps of dimples at the base of your spine peeked out when you bent slightly to check a store sign. He was not staring. He was absolutely not adjusting himself when you weren’t looking.

“What kind of beer?” he asked, catching up to you outside the shop. You pushed open the door, cool air washing over both of you. “You’re the one who drinks with him,” you shrugged. “Something local. Cold. And I want mochi.” He followed you past the small produce section and down the narrow rows of snacks and alcohol, eyes on everything except the shelves. You reached up on tiptoes to grab a box of strawberry mochi from the freezer. He tried not to look. He really did. But your top shifted, and the swell of your side peeked out again. That little stretch of soft skin he hadn’t stopped thinking about since rubbing sunscreen into your back. “You okay?” you asked, turning suddenly.

He looked away. Fast. “Yeah. Just….. trying to remember what kind he likes.” You tilted your head. “Mingi?” you asked, smirking. “Or you?” Yunho blinked. “What?” You smiled, turning to examine the beer cooler, clearly not expecting a real answer. He hated how you played it off like you weren’t doing it on purpose. Like you didn’t know exactly how close you stood when you passed him the mochi. Like you didn’t lean just enough to let your arm graze his chest. Like you didn’t glance down when he bent to grab a six pack, eyes flickering right to the waistband of his shorts before darting away like you hadn’t just looked.

You didn’t say a word the whole walk back to the Jeep. Neither did he. But when he handed you the six pack to buckle in the backseat next to the poke bowls and your thighs brushed again, he heard you sigh… Soft. Barely there. But it wasn’t nothing. And now he was stuck sitting next to you on the drive back to the beach, muscles tense, brain fried, and one single thought looping like a broken cassette. Mingi doesn’t deserve this kind of friendship. Because Yunho might actually burn the whole villa down before the trip is over.

The wind whipped through the open windows of the Jeep, but it did nothing to cool Yunho down. He gripped the steering wheel tighter than necessary, eyes fixed on the winding road back to the beach. Beside him, you sat like the living embodiment of smug serenity, legs stretched out, hair blowing wildly, lips still sticky from the strawberry mochi you devoured without a single care in the world. The six pack clinked against the styrofoam bowls in the backseat. He was calculating how many seconds it would take to drop the food off and walk straight into the ocean when you turned to him. Casual. Lazy. Like you were just thinking out loud. “Why didn’t you ask me out?”

Yunho blinked. Grip on the steering wheel tightened. “What?” You didn’t repeat yourself. You just let the words hang in the space between you, carried by salt air and rising heat. And then you smiled. That smile. The one that said you knew he heard you. The one that said you knew exactly what you were doing. “Waiting until after Mingi beat you to it… That must of driven you crazy.” He inhaled through his nose. Counted. One… two… three…. “Explains your attitude.” The tires screeched as he jerked the wheel and pulled the Jeep off to the side of the road. Dust clouded around you both as he threw it in park. “What the hell are you doing?” you asked, startled, eyes wide as you looked over.

He turned to you slowly. Yunho’s jaw clenched, the sun catching the sharp lines of his cheekbones. He didn’t look angry. He looked done. “You really wanna do this here?” he asked, voice low. You tilted your head. “Do what?” He glared at you. “Push me.” He leaned back slightly, resting one hand on the wheel, the other dropping to his thigh, fingers drumming slowly like he was keeping time. “You don’t get it, do you?” he said, more to himself than to you. “How hard it’s been not to say something. Not to touch you. From the second we got here.” Your mouth parted, but he didn’t let you interrupt.

“You think I’m mad because Mingi got there first?” he scoffed. “You think I’m jealous?” He looked away, tongue pushing against the inside of his cheek before turning back. “I’m mad because you know. You know what you’re doing. And you keep doing it anyway.” The car was silent except for the ticking of the engine cooling. “So yeah. Maybe I didn’t ask you out. But don’t pretend like you didn’t feel it too.” His eyes dropped, lingering on the way your hand had curled against your bare thigh. “Still do.”

Your breath hitched and he noticed. And it made everything worse. Because now there was no pretending. No deflection. No smug grin or fake shrug. You were looking at him like you’d been waiting for him to finally catch up. The Jeep suddenly felt too small. Too hot. “Then do something about it.” Your voice was smooth. Soft. But the words landed like a punch to the chest. Yunho’s first instinct was to laugh. Because of course you’d say that. Of course you’d push him exactly where he didn’t want to go. No safety net. No room to backtrack. Just straight into the fire. He gritted his teeth and looked away, hand tightening on the steering wheel until his knuckles went pale. Maybe if he didn’t look at you, he could hold it together.

But then his gaze flicked back and you were looking at him like you wanted him to. Not teasing. Not mocking. Open. Waiting. Like you already knew he’d cave. His brain screamed don’t. His body said fuck you. He snapped. In one motion, Yunho reached over and grabbed your jaw, pulling you in across the console so fast your breath caught. And then he kissed you. No hesitation. No testing the waters. He kissed you like he meant it, like the words had burned a hole straight through his restraint and the only thing that could put out the fire was you. You gasped against him, lips parting, and he groaned when you kissed him back just as hard, just as hungry. Your hand fisted the front of his shirt like you were anchoring yourself, and he angled closer, chasing the sound of your breath.

His thumb brushed your cheek as his other hand dropped to your waist, gripping tight, like he could press you into his skin and finally stop pretending. The Jeep was hot. His head was spinning. And your mouth tasted like strawberry and sin. When he finally pulled back, his lips were flushed, pupils blown, chest rising and falling like he’d just come up for air after drowning. He stared at you. “This is a bad idea,” he muttered, voice hoarse. You licked your bottom lip, eyes locked on his. “Then maybe you should stop kissing me like it’s not.” Yunho’s jaw flexed. He didn’t have a comeback. Because you were right. You were always right.

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The second the Jeep rolled to a stop, Mingi popped up from the blanket like a kid spotting the ice cream truck. Shirtless, sandy, a big dumb grin on his face as he jogged toward you. “Took you long enough,” he called, pushing his hair out of his eyes. Yunho didn’t respond. He was too focused on the way your hand lingered on the door handle after you climbed out. Too focused on how the back of your leg brushed his arm as you reached in to grab the poke bowls. Too focused on not looking like a man who had kissed his best friend’s girlfriend in the middle of the goddamn roadside.

You were humming again, just like in the store. Casual. Carefree. Acting like his mouth hadn’t just been on yours. Like he hadn’t nearly pulled your body over the gear shift and ruined both your lives. He followed behind you with the bag of drinks, trying to school his expression into something normal. Mingi was already unboxing his food on the towel. “You got extra spicy?” he asked, lifting the lid and letting out a pleased hum. “Damn, I love you.” Mingi cracked open his beer, leaned back on his elbows, and glanced between the two of you. One eyebrow cocked. “You two good?”

You shrugged. “Fine.” Yunho grunted something that vaguely resembled agreement, sinking into the towel beside his own bowl, fingers fumbling with the chopsticks like they were foreign objects. Mingi chuckled, taking a long pull of his beer, then passed Yunho one without breaking eye contact with you. “You look flushed,” he said, smirking. “Sun too much for you?” You smiled at him, corners of your mouth slowly turning into a smirk. “Something like that.”

Yunho stared at the ocean. He didn’t speak. Didn’t touch his food. Took one sip of his beer. Didn’t even move until Mingi finally turned his attention away, stuffing a bite into his mouth and sighing dramatically about how this was the best damn poke bowl on the island. Then you leaned back on your elbows, same as Mingi. Legs stretched out in front of you. Sand clinging to your thighs. Yunho shouldn’t have looked. But he did. Right at the edge of his vision, your smile curled, like you knew.

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The lights in the villa were low. Just the golden under cabinet glow in the kitchen and one dim floor lamp humming softly in the corner. The kind of lighting that made everything feel slower. Softer. Dangerous. The bottle of wine was almost empty. Mingi held it by the neck as he slumped back into the couch cushions, eyes heavy, cheeks flushed. He’d been talkative just a few minutes ago, buzzed, laughing, dragging out the same stupid inside joke from the beach, but now he was blinking slower. Voice quieter. “I’m gonna lay down,” he mumbled, voice sticky with exhaustion.

Yunho didn’t say anything. He just watched him push to his feet, wobble slightly, then grin at himself like he was charming even when tipsy. You stood too, grabbing the bottle to walk it to the kitchen, passing Mingi on your way. He caught your wrist. “Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” You rolled your eyes, your voice light. “So basically nothing’s off limits?” Mingi grinned and stumbled off toward the bedroom, muttering something that sounded like “You get me” as the door clicked shut behind him.

Yunho stood on one side of the room. You stood on the other. The tension was instant. Thick. He watched the way your fingers played with the rim of the bottle. How your eyes didn’t meet his. How your weight shifted from one foot to the other like you were either going to pour another drink or say something reckless. “So,” you finally said, voice too casual. “You still thinking about it?” Yunho stayed quiet. Not because he didn’t have anything to say. But because every version of a response ended with him pinning you against a wall.

You leaned against the counter, arms crossing over your chest. “What? Now you’ve got nothing to say? Going to pretend it didn’t happen?” He got up off the couch, took a step forward. Just one. Then another and another. Your eyes met his. Neither of you looked away. “You keep doing this,” he said, voice low. Controlled. “Doing what?” You played innocent, like you had no idea what he was talking about. “Pushing.”

You tilted your head in challenge. “You think I’m pushing? Or are you just scared of what happens if you push back?” The room felt smaller. The distance between you felt irrelevant. Yunho ran a hand through his hair. He wasn’t drunk. He wasn’t even tipsy. But his blood was buzzing and his throat felt tight and the kiss you’d shared in the Jeep was still on his mouth.

“You should go to bed,” he said finally, tone flat. “I should,” you agreed. But you didn’t move. “Are you going to kiss me again if I don’t?” He blinked. Took another step forward making you smirk, like you knew he would. “That’s what I thought,” you whispered and Yunho’s jaw clenched. He could feel your stare on the side of his face, a heat more direct than the Hawaiian sun. He glanced your way. You were walking back to the couch. Not flirty, just confident. Like you knew exactly how far you were going to push him tonight.

He followed, sat back, the dim light catching on his jaw as he tracked your every move, not sitting yet, playing with the music from Mingi’s bluetooth speaker. You leaned against the edge of the couch, hands behind you on the cushion, brushing against his shoulder. “How bad you want me?” His eyes flicked to yours. Sharp. Warning. “Stop.” You bit your lip and shook your head. “No.”

Yunho’s entire frame tensed. His hands curled into fists on his thighs. “Mingi’s my best friend,” he said, voice low. Rough. “I can’t….” You cut him off, taking a step between his knees. “Can’t what? Can’t touch me?” You leaned closer, eyes searching his face. “Or can’t stop yourself?” He shook his head. “Don’t.” Your voice dropped to barely a whisper. “You kissed me. You pulled over the Jeep just to put your mouth on mine. And now you’re pretending like that didn’t mean something?”

He opened his mouth to speak but you were already moving. Climbing onto his lap. Your thighs bracketing his. Your hands on his shoulders. Your breath brushing against his lips. He didn’t touch you. He didn’t breathe. You stared down at him, face unreadable, your weight settling slowly onto his hips like a challenge. Like a dare. “Then stop me,” you whispered. He couldn’t. He should’ve pushed you off. Should’ve said your name like it meant something. Should’ve reminded you that Mingi had every right to be the only one with you in moments like this.

But instead he shook. Just a little. Like all the tension, all the holding back, was fracturing under the pressure of you in his lap, the he stood. Lifting you with him. Not speaking. Just holding you in his arms as he stood in the center of the room, staring at the hallway like it might save him. He didn’t move. Didn’t set you down. Just stood there in silence, chest rising and falling too fast, while your arms slid around his shoulders and your legs around his waist, breath ghosting against his temple.

He squeezed his eyes shut. And let out a slow, ragged breath like it hurt just to be near you. “Do you want to stop, Yunho?” You asked it so softly he almost convinced himself he didn’t hear it. But your mouth was by his ear. And your legs were wrapped around his waist. And you were waiting. Waiting for him to stop being good. To stop being careful. To stop choosing Mingi first. And for the first time since the start of this trip, since you and Mingi first got together, he did. His hands gripped the backs of your thighs. Hard. And then he moved, dropping with you back on the couch still wrapped around him, your weight landing in his lap, your hands flying to his chest as your lips parted on instinct. But he didn’t kiss you right away. Not your mouth, at least.

His lips crashed against your neck, teeth dragging just enough to make your breath hitch. “Yunho…” A growl rumbled from his chest, vibrating against your skin as he kissed lower, your collarbone, your shoulder, anywhere the oversized tank top had slipped too far. His fingers bunched the hem, dragging it up your waist like it offended him. He needed more skin. He needed to feel you. All of you. Your fingers tangled in his hair. And still, his mouth kept moving. Every inch of you that was bare, he kissed. Every breathless sound you made, he drank.

You rolled your hips down into his lap and he bucked up hard, his hands now under your shirt, spreading across your back, pulling you in like he couldn’t get close enough. His lips returned to your neck, kissing, sucking, teeth dragging again. “Yunho,” you gasped and he pulled back. Just barely. His forehead rested against your jaw. His voice rough. “I’m not stopping. If we do this…. I won’t stop.” You brushed your thumb along his bottom lip. “Then don’t.”

That was it. He kissed you hard. Sloppy. Needy. Like a man starved. Like he’d waited years. Your shirt was gone. He didn’t even remember taking it off. Your legs tightened around his hips and he swore under his breath when you started grinding down, dragging a desperate groan from his throat. He caught your wrists and pinned them to your sides, his breath hot against your lips as he rocked up again. Your bare chest in the dim villa light, skin soft, glowing, rising and falling with every sharp breath you took. It was like something broke loose in him, a part he’d been holding back for so long.

His mouth dropped to your breast before either of you could think. No teasing. No lead in. He moaned against you, lips latching to your skin like it was his last chance to worship it. Tongue circling your nipple, dragging a cry from your throat. He kissed lower, then higher, then switched sides, sucking, dragging, tasting. “Yunho…” His eyes flicked up to yours and he just… stared. Your lips were parted, hands in his hair, eyes blown wide with heat. “You’re perfect,” he breathed. But then, you pushed him.

He grunted, falling back onto the couch cushions, caught off guard. Your body slipped from his lap to the floor, and before he could ask what you were doing your hands were on the waistband of his shorts. Oh. Oh! “Y/N…” He lifted his hips without hesitation, short circuiting at the sight of your fingers curled into the fabric, dragging it down slow. You watched every inch of him as it was revealed, inch by thick, twitching, aching inch. And Yunho was fighting for his life.

His hand gripped the couch behind his head, knuckles white. His abs tightened as he watched you take him in, your eyes lingering, lips slightly parted before you just smirked, leaning forward. Your breath ghosted over his thigh and he dropped his head back on the couch. A guttural groan escaped his throat as he spread his legs wider for you, already panting. Chest rising, fingers twitching where they gripped the couch cushion behind his head.

And when your mouth brushed the tip of him? “Fuck….” His whole body jerked. You smiled. Your hands planted against his thighs, muscular, twitching, and you leaned forward, letting your tongue swirl slow over the head. Just a taste. A tease making Yunho’s hand shoot into your hair. “Y/N…” His voice was cracked glass, like he couldn’t decide if he wanted to pull you off or push you down. You chose for him. You sank lower. Took more. Let your lips glide down until he hit the back of your throat, and then you kept going.

“Shit…. fuck… wait…” He gasped so hard it sounded like a sob and you moaned around him. That was all it took. His hips lifted off the couch, just a little. His fingers curled tighter in your hair as he started thrusting, slow and shallow at first, as if testing what you could take. And oh, you could take it. “You feel so fucking good, baby…” he whispered, so soft it was almost a plea. Your eyes met his. His were wild. Desperate. Ruined. You kept moaning around him, letting the vibrations roll down his length. His grip tightened. The thrusts picked up. His other hand dropped to the back of your neck like he was trying to anchor himself.

“I’m not gonna last…” His voice broke again. “God, I’m not… Y/N, stop…. stop or I’m gonna…” You didn’t stop. You sucked harder. Took him deeper. Swallowed. “FUCK!” He broke. Spilled down your throat with a strangled cry, hips jerking as you held him there, breathing through your nose, tears stinging your eyes, tasting nothing but him. And when he finally let go of your hair, panting like he’d just run for miles? You pulled off slowly, licking the tip one last time, eyes never leaving his.

Yunho looked like he’d seen a ghost. A sex god ghost that just rearranged his entire belief system. He didn’t even mean to grab you that fast. But the second you pulled off him, licking your lips like that?

Looking up at him like you knew what you just did? His hands were already under your arms, flipping you back onto the couch cushions like instinct, like survival, like if he didn’t get inside you somehow, some way, he was going to fucking combust. “Take these off,” he rasped, tugging at your shorts.

You lifted your hips for him, letting him drag the fabric down your thighs, past your knees, tossing them somewhere over the armrest. He didn’t stop. His fingers curled under the waistband of your panties next, slow but eager, watching as the soaked cotton clung to you for just a second longer than it should’ve. “Fuck,” he whispered, his mouth practically watering.

“Look at you…” They hit the floor. And then his hands, large and warm and trembling just a little, spread your thighs apart, eyes locked on your core, breath catching in his throat. His voice was hoarse. “You’re dripping.” He dropped his head, kissing along your inner thigh, tongue catching every drop he could. But when he kissed your mouth again, hot, open, his tongue tangling with yours, he groaned. “You taste like me…” That wrecked him. His fingers were between your legs before he could stop himself, one sliding through your folds, then two, slow and deep, curling up, coaxing out every soaked, needy sound he could. “So wet for me already?” he whispered against your lips, voice cracking with wonder. “You’re perfect.”

He moved down your body, trailing kisses across your chest, your stomach, between your hips, lips ghosting over your skin like he didn’t know where to worship first. His fingers kept moving. Deep. Slow. Pressing right where he knew you’d feel it most. “Just like that, yeah? You feel so good on my fingers… Bet you’ll feel even better when I finally….” You clenched around him, and Yunho groaned, burying his face against your thigh. “Please, baby,” he breathed, desperate now. “Please let me taste you.”

You moaned, practically begging. “Please…” The second it left your lips, Yunho snapped. No hesitation, no preamble, no sweet words this time, he dropped to his knees like a man possessed, hands spreading you open, shoulders wedging between your thighs as his mouth devoured you. His tongue plunged in immediately, hot and wet and filthy, dragging a sharp moan from your throat as his fingers didn’t let up for a second, still fucking into you, still curling, still dragging over that spot like he knew exactly how to break you apart. “Fucking hell…” you gasped, hips jerking.

But he loved that. Grunted into you. Shoved his face deeper. His nose nudging your clit, the bridge of it dragging just right as he buried his tongue as far as it could go. He was lost in it, starving, fucking you with his fingers and tongue like he’d waited years for this. Every moan you gave him was a reward. Every roll of your hips, a victory. His free hand reached up, splayed across your stomach, holding you down like he needed to feel you squirm. His hips rocked down against the couch, grinding into nothing, he was that fucking hard again. That desperate.

“Taste so good,” he groaned between strokes of his tongue, “so fucking sweet…. Gonna make you come like this, you hear me? wanna feel you soak my face.” Another cry. Another sharp buck of your hips. You grabbed his hair, tugged, but Yunho didn’t let up. If anything, he growled. And it vibrated through you. Sloppy, messy, open mouthed kisses against your clit now. His fingers thrusting faster. His tongue fucking up against your sweet spot. Your thighs started to tremble. And Yunho knew. Felt it. “That’s it, baby…” he whispered, breath hot against your soaked cunt. “Come for me. I need it. Wanna feel you lose it.”

And when you did, he moaned into it. Tongue lapping up everything you gave him like it was the only thing he’d ever eat again. Your thighs were clenched tight around his head. Your hands, god, your hands, buried in his hair, tugging, holding him in place like you were afraid he’d stop. But he had no intention of stopping. Not when you were dripping around his fingers like this. Not when your clit was so sensitive, twitching beneath every flick of his tongue. Not when you tasted like heaven and sin combined.

He didn’t even hear the footsteps. Didn’t care. Because at that moment, Yunho was watching your eyes roll back, his mouth locked around your clit, three fingers now pumping into your slick heat, and you were right there on the edge again. “Well…” the deep voice of his best friend made him freeze. “Appears I’m interrupting.” No. No way. Slowly, like surfacing from a dream, Yunho turned his head over your thigh, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, breathless, pupils blown.

Mingi stood in the hallway. Shirtless. Hair a mess. Rubbing his eyes and smirking. “Didn’t mean to kill the mood,” Yunho’s mouth opened. Nothing came out. Your chest was still rising and falling fast. You were still wet. Still flushed. Still needy. “Mingi… I….” Yunho’s voice cracked like a snapped wire. “I didn’t mean to…” He looked like a sinner at the altar. Kneeling. Caught. Fucked. He hadn’t even pulled his fingers from you yet. And now his best friend stood over him, shirtless, tousled, calm as hell.

Yunho braced for it, fists, yelling, the kind of betrayal that couldn’t be taken back. But then Mingi… sat. Right on the edge of the coffee table across from the couch. Elbows on his knees. A slow grin spreading. “Why’d you stop?” Yunho blinked. “What?” He said it again, lower. More amused. “Why’d you stop?” Mingi tilted his head. “You were doing so good.” It didn’t compute. Yunho’s blood felt like it had left his brain. Like he was glitching. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

Mingi laughed. Soft and knowing and just smug enough to make Yunho seethe with confusion. “Told her last night,” Mingi said, like it was nothing. “Everything.” Yunho’s hand on your thigh tightened instinctively. “Told her how I knew you wanted her first. Told her you didn’t say shit because of me. Told her I’d share, if that’s what she wanted.” He looked at you then. You didn’t look ashamed. You looked… satisfied. Still needy, but no longer guilty. “And then we made a plan,” Mingi said. “To break you.”

Yunho sat there. Between your legs. Staring up at his best friend like he’d just rewritten the rules of the universe. And then he laughed. Not loud. Not bright. A low, dark, breathless sound that almost didn’t sound like him. He dragged his hand down his face, mouth curling into something wild. “Are you fucking kidding me?” Neither of you answered. You just blinked at him, mouth parted. Mingi? Still grinning. Arms folded across his broad chest.

Yunho looked back down at you. Still flushed. Still wet. “So the sunscreen… the ride… all of it…” You nodded slowly. “All of it.” Another disbelieving chuckle left him. But it was darker now. Rough. “You two set me up,” he said quietly. “Like prey.” Yunho’s breath came sharp through his nose as he slowly pulled his fingers out of you, slick, warm, twitching around nothing now. You gasped at the loss, your hips lifting instinctively like you were chasing him. “Turn over.” His voice was cold. Commanding. No hesitation. No apology. You blinked up at him, lips parted.

“Now.” Even you stilled at the edge in his tone. It wasn’t the flirty teasing from earlier. It wasn’t the wide eyed panic of thirty seconds ago. This was something else. Something darker. You moved slowly, still breathless, flipping over onto your stomach on the couch cushions. One arm folded under your head, the other trembling beside you. Your ass arched just enough that your wetness kissed the air. Yunho sat back on his heels. Silent. Watching.

“There he is,” Mingi muttered and Yunho ignored him. His eyes were locked on your body, bare, flushed, vulnerable but not afraid. “You two thought it would be fun to push me,” Yunho said, reaching to slide his shorts completely off, his dick springing free, flushed and dripping. “Thought you’d break me.” You whimpered. Just the sound of his voice, sharp and calm now, made your thighs press together only to be pulled back apart as he grabbed your hips, dragging you back until your knees hit the edge of the couch.

Your breath stuttered against the pillow, spine arched, skin prickling under Yunho’s touch as his hand ghosted down your back. But he didn’t thrust into you. Didn’t even move. Instead, he pulled his hand back, wet fingers glistening in the low light, still shiny with you. And then, slowly, Yunho turned. Met Mingi’s eyes. Didn’t say a word. Just held his fingers out. Mingi didn’t even blink as he leaned forward, mouth open, and sucked them in. One by one. Yunho watched him. Watched his best friend taste his own girlfriend off his skin.

Watched Mingi’s mouth close around the digits he’d just buried in you, watched his tongue swirl, watched his eyes flicker with something dark and possessive. “Good?” Yunho asked lowly. Mingi smirked, releasing Yunho’s fingers with a pop. “She always is.” And the whimper that left you? It made Yunho groan. “Fuck,” he muttered, turning back to you, his voice thicker now. “Look at you.” You were panting now, face turned to the side, cheeks flushed, pupils blown as you tried to rock your hips back against him.

“So greedy,” he whispered, dragging the head of his dick slowly through your slick folds without pushing in. “You want him to watch me ruin you?” You nodded, desperate. And Mingi? He just leaned back, arms crossed, and watched as you whimpered again, arching back, trying to tilt your hips just enough to take him in, but Yunho’s hands gripped your waist, holding you still. “You begged with your mouth already,” he muttered behind you, voice low and dark and goddamn dangerous. “But let’s see if that was just for show.”

He dragged the thick head of his dick down, catching on your soaked folds. Then up, brushing your clit just enough to make your hips jolt. Again. And again. Until your thighs were trembling, arms shaking as you tried to hold yourself up, whining his name like a prayer. “Yunho, please,” you gasped, broken. He leaned forward, chest against your back, mouth against your ear. “What was that?” You choked on a moan as he did it again, slow stroke of his tip through your folds, no pressure, no entry, just torment. “Say it.” he growled.

“Please,” you begged, shameless now. “Please, just…. just fuck me already.” Beside you, you could hear footsteps, rustling and the soft crack of Mingi opening a beer, his voice low and amused. “Damn. Didn’t know you had this much patience, man.” Yunho chuckled darkly. Then finally, he thrust forward. Slow. Thick. Deep. A guttural moan ripped out of his chest as he sank into you, inch by inch, your walls clenching around him like you’d never let him go again. “Fuck,” he hissed, jaw clenched, hands flexing on your hips. “So goddamn tight. You see that, Mingi?”

“I see it,” Mingi muttered, his gaze locked on the spot where you and Yunho were connected. “Shit.” Yunho paused, buried to the hilt inside you, letting you feel every throb, every twitch. Then leaned forward again, nipping at your shoulder, fingers sliding from your soaked heat with a wet sound that echoed in the room, the space charged with something feral. His hips rolled slow at first, grinding into you, letting you feel every drag, every ridge, every deliberate push. His right hand slid along your spine, then lower, his thumb teasing the curve of your other hole, pressing lightly, just enough to make your body jolt and your breath catch.

“Yunho…” you choked out, but he was already moving faster now, his thrusts sharper, deeper, his thumb still circling, pushing a little more. You were already a mess, eyes shut, moaning into the cushions, back arching with each pass of his dick, each press of his thumb. Your body didn’t know where to focus, didn’t know what to chase. And Mingi was still watching. His jaw was tight, his pupils blown wide, his legs spread as he sat on the table, his hands curled into fists on either side of him. He looked like he was about to break. But he didn’t move yet.

Yunho grunted behind you, his thrusts sharp now, punishing, the sound of skin on skin echoing through the villa like the drumbeat of something inevitable. You were gasping, open mouthed, fingers clawed into the couch, legs trembling, but you didn’t dare beg him to stop. You didn’t want him to. And he knew it. His hand slid up your back again, gripping the nape of your neck this time, his fingers threading into your hair as he pulled you upright, your back flush to his chest. His other hand wrapped tightly around your waist, holding you in place. You cried out at the shift, your body stretched, dick still buried deep inside you, the new angle making you feel everything.

Every. Fucking. Inch. “Look at him,” Yunho growled in your ear, his voice a low, dangerous rumble. Your eyes fluttered open, unfocused for a second before landing on him. Mingi. Your boyfriend. Still seated on the edge of the table, still fully clothed, thighs spread wide. One hand was gripping the edge of the table, the other now lazily palming himself over his briefs, eyes locked on you. He looked ruined and he hadn’t even been touched yet. “Yunho….” you whimpered, but he just thrust up into you harder, making you cry out, your hands flying to his thighs for balance. “I said look at him.”

His hand grabbed your jaw, forcing your head to stay turned. Mingi’s lips parted as he watched you bounce on his best friend’s dick, your breasts moving with every brutal thrust, your moans slipping out broken and breathless. “She’s beautiful like this, huh?” Yunho murmured darkly, his mouth dragging along your shoulder, teeth grazing your skin. “Fucking desperate. Ruined.” Mingi let out a strained breath, his fingers now sliding into his sweats, the fabric moving as he started stroking himself slowly, eyes never leaving yours.

You were overwhelmed, caught between the intensity of Yunho’s possessive grip and the heat in Mingi’s gaze. Your walls clenched down around Yunho, your breath hitching as the pleasure mounted fast, dangerously fast. His hips snapped up, again and again, his dick dragging perfectly inside you, his thumb sneaking down between your thighs again to circle your clit. “You gonna come with your boyfriend watching?” he whispered darkly against your ear, voice thick with pride and desire. “Come on, baby. Show him what you look like when I fuck you right.”

And you did. You broke. Head thrown back, thighs shaking, mouth open in a silent scream as you shattered around him, clenching tight, soaking his dick as you came undone. And Yunho didn’t stop. Not yet. Not while Mingi was still watching. Not while you were still moaning his name like it was a prayer. Your body convulsed, giving out beneath you as your orgasm ripped through you like a tidal wave. You fell forward onto your elbows with a whimper, face pressed into the couch cushions, panting, twitching, dripping down Yunho’s thighs, still trembling from the force of it.

Yunho didn’t follow you down. He stayed where he was, buried deep inside you, chest heaving, watching the way your back rose and fell with every gasping breath. His hands were still on your hips, thumbs digging in, fighting the urge to lose himself in the aftershocks. Sweat beaded along his brow, his jaw tight, but he didn’t move. Not yet. And neither did Mingi. Not at first. Because both of them were watching you. You, flushed skin, naked and fucked out, eyes half lidded, your lips still parted in a silent moan. Yunho’s voice came out low, reverent, like a prayer meant only for you. “fuck, look at you.”

But it wasn’t just him. Because Mingi stood. He’d been still for too long, too quiet. But now? Now the air shifted. He didn’t say a word as he approached, slow, deliberate steps across the tile, every inch of him radiating heat and hunger as Yunho finally looked up, their eyes locking over your body. Mingi just tilted his head, a slow smirk spreading across his face, like the wolf who’d been invited to dinner and just realized he was the main course. “I’ve watched long enough,” he said, voice deep, gravelly from holding himself back. “My turn.”

He came to the side of the couch, crouching next to where your head lay turned, your cheek against the cushion, eyes barely open. You blinked up at him, a dreamy smile tugging at your lips, and that was all the invitation he needed. Mingi reached out, his hand ghosting over your cheek before he leaned in, kissing you deeply, owning your mouth while Yunho was still buried inside you. The moan that left you was helpless. Yunho’s dick throbbed. And still… he didn’t pull out. Didn’t back down as Mingi kissed you like he’d starved for it. His hand cupped the back of your neck, his tongue slow and filthy against yours, taking his time, tasting the ruin Yunho had left behind.

When he finally pulled back, his lips were red, eyes wild. “You okay?” he murmured, brushing hair out of your face. You nodded, breathless. “Please,” was all you said. And that was it. Mingi stood and peeled his shirt off, revealing that tight stomach, that chest you loved. His sweats hit the floor next. He stroked himself once, twice, and then looked at Yunho. “You gonna let me have her mouth now, or you still feeling selfish?” Yunho’s expression shifted, somewhere between territorial and turned the fuck on. But when he looked down at you, saw the way your lips parted, your eyes wide and ready… He smirked.

Their hands were all over you. Mingi’s grip firm on your waist as he helped turn you over, your body pliant beneath them, every muscle trembling from being pushed to the edge again and again. Yunho’s hands were just as steady, gentler in contrast but no less commanding as he shifted you onto your back, your skin sticking slightly to the leather of the couch, knees falling apart without hesitation. You were wrecked. “Look at her,” Mingi muttered, eyes roaming over your flushed skin, the glistening mess between your thighs. “Fuck, Yunho…” Yunho didn’t answer. His mouth was already on its way down again.

You gasped when you felt the first drag of his tongue up your folds, slow and indulgent, like he had all the time in the world to taste you properly now. His breath was hot against your skin, groaning low as he pressed his tongue flat, then licked you with purpose, tongue curling right over your clit, making your whole body jolt. Mingi was already climbing over the armrest. You blinked up at him through heavy lashes as he straddled the couch just above your head, dick already thick and flushed in his hand, your lips parting without a second thought.

“Oh, you’re fucking perfect,” he whispered, thumbing across your bottom lip. “Open up for me.” You opened your mouth, tongue out, and Mingi slid into it like he belonged there, the moan that tore from his throat deep as your lips wrapped around him. “Shit,” he hissed, hand tangling in your hair. “Just like that, baby.” Your mouth was full of him. Your legs were spread for Yunho. And it wasn’t lost on either of them how utterly ruined you already looked.

Yunho’s tongue kept moving, deliberate now. Licking long and slow before he dipped down, thrusting it inside you to taste everything you had to offer. His nose bumped your clit, his moans vibrating through your cunt, his hands gripping your thighs to keep you wide open for him. “God, you’re dripping,” he groaned, pulling back just enough to look at the mess between your legs, then right back up at you, your lips stretched around Mingi’s dick, your jaw tight as you worked him in deeper. “You’re gonna come just from this, aren’t you?”

You moaned around Mingi as Yunho’s mouth returned with more force, tongue greedy now, dragging against your clit while two of his fingers slid back inside without warning, curling up just right. Mingi’s thrusts into your mouth slowed, his thumb wiping drool from your chin as he looked down at you with glassy eyes. Your body tensed, the heat between your legs unbearable as Yunho devoured you, tongue and fingers relentless, his groans getting louder the more you writhed. He was chasing it, chasing the way your thighs clenched, the way your moans around Mingi sent vibrations through the air.

Your lips slid off Mingi’s dick with a soft, wet pop, your cheeks flushed, your mouth slick, chest heaving as you leaned your head back against the couch armrest. Your breath was ragged, throat sore, spit and precum glistening on your chin and breasts, Mingi’s dick twitching just inches from your face. Yunho was still between your thighs, his fingers lazily stroking you through the aftershocks of your orgasm, his mouth swollen, chin glossy with you. But he slowed, lifting his head to look at you, sensing something in the shift of your breath. In the look in your eyes.

You turned your gaze up at Mingi, then back down to Yunho. “I want both of you,” you whispered, voice raw and needy. “Right now.” The words hung in the air like thunder. Yunho froze. Mingi blinked, visibly swallowing hard as you shifted, slowly sitting up, straddling Yunho’s lap now. His dick was hard beneath you, pressed against your slick folds, throbbing and waiting, but you didn’t move to take him in yet. Instead, your hands slid over his shoulders, your chest brushing his, and you glanced over your shoulder at Mingi.

“Don’t make me beg.” Yunho’s fingers clenched on your hips. Mingi was staring at you like he was barely holding himself back. “Fuck me…” he muttered, eyes wide, and it was unclear if it was a plea or a curse. Maybe both. You rolled your hips once against Yunho, teasing yourself along his length, watching the way his jaw clenched, the absolute chaos in his gaze. Then your hand reached back, curling around Mingi’s dick again, still soaked with your spit, and you gave him a slow pump. Yunho’s voice was low. Dangerous. “You sure?” he asked, voice strained. “Because once this starts… I don’t think we’re stopping.”

You met his eyes. Leaned in until your lips brushed his, sinking down onto him. “I don’t want you to.” Mingi groaned behind you as Yunho’s hands tightened on your waist, fingertips digging into your hips as you rolled down on him again and again. His head tilted back against the couch, jaw clenched, chest rising and falling like he’s trying to breathe through a goddamn firestorm. His grip shifts, one hand sliding up your back as he holds you still, hips grinding up into you once, hard enough to make your head fall forward on his shoulder as Mingi moves.

He kneels behind you, his body flush against yours, one hand reaching around to cup your breast while the other trails between your cheeks, slow and deliberate. You shiver as his fingers tease lower, sliding past the slick mess between your thighs, down to your hole. “Relax for me,” Mingi whispers against your neck. “Gotta stretch you, baby.” You nod, already shaking, already breathless from being so full of Yunho who’s kissing your shoulder, holding you close as Mingi’s fingers begin to circle slowly, massaging soft and patient. The first press makes you whimper, more from anticipation than discomfort, and Yunho groans as he feels your walls flutter around him.

“She’s so tight already,” he says, voice strained, his lips brushing your temple. “You sure you can handle both?” You nod again, gasping as Mingi presses one finger inside, slow and careful. “I want it,” you pant. “Want both of you inside me.” Mingi groans like he’s in pain, his hips jerking forward once out of reflex. But he keeps it slow. One finger. Then two. Gentle, scissoring motions while Yunho kisses your jaw, whispering praise into your skin like he’s trying to keep you grounded.

“That’s it,” Mingi breathes, voice getting shakier as he watches you adjust. “Taking it so well. You’re such a fucking dream.” Yunho lifts his head, locking eyes with him over your shoulder. “You good?” Yunho asks. Mingi nods once, eyes dark. “Yeah. You?” Yunho nods too. But his grip on your waist tightens. “Let’s give her what she wants.” Behind you, Mingi shifts closer, his chest pressed to your back, lips brushing your shoulder. “I’ll go slow,” he murmurs. “Wanna make you feel good.”

He removes his fingers carefully, the absence making you gasp. You’re so full already, Yunho’s dick pulsing deep inside you, but your body aches to be stretched, to feel both of them at once. Mingi aligns himself behind you, and you feel the hot, heavy press of his tip sliding between your cheeks as Yunho leans forward, foreheads touching. “Breathe, baby,” he whispers. “You’re okay. We’ve got you.”

The stretch is intense. Even after being prepped, even after being so thoroughly ruined by Yunho, your body tenses around the new intrusion. Yunho groans, feeling it too, the way your walls clench tighter around him. “Fuck, she’s squeezing me,” he gasps. Mingi’s hands are steady on your hips as he keeps going, inch by inch. “You’re doing so good,” he pants. “Just a little more.” You cry out, not from pain but from overwhelm. The pressure is unreal, the way they’re both pressing into you, how you can feel every inch of them, hot and thick and pulsing inside.

They stop once they’re both fully in, letting you breathe, letting your body adjust. Yunho strokes your hair, lips against your temple. “Look at me.” You do. Barely. “You tell us when you’re ready.” And somehow, through the fog, you whisper, “Now.” They start to move. Together. Yunho pulls back a little as Mingi thrusts forward, then vice versa, finding a rhythm that has your head lolling back, your body caught between them. Their names fall from your lips like prayer, like a chant, like the only thing you know how to say anymore.

The stretch becomes pleasure, the ache becomes euphoria, and soon you’re moving with them, rocking, gasping, clawing at Yunho’s chest as Mingi’s grip bruises your hips. “Fuck, look at her,” Mingi groans, head tilted back. “She’s taking both of us like she was made for it.”

“She was,” Yunho growls, his own control slipping as your walls pulse around him. “She’s ours.” You’re shaking, orgasm tearing through you out of nowhere, like a riptide, wild, relentless, and hot. Your entire body tenses, back arching, mouth open in a silent cry as your eyes squeeze shut. Yunho groans, deep and wrecked beneath you, and Mingi lets out a strangled curse, gripping your hips tighter like he’s barely holding on. But neither of them stop. In fact, the second they feel you come, feel your body pulse and clench tighter around them, they start going harder.

“Shit, shit, she’s still so tight,” Mingi pants, sweat dripping down his temple as he rocks into you slow but deep, grinding his hips with every thrust. “Ride it out,” Yunho breathes, hands gripping your waist now, guiding your movement as he thrusts up into you from below, matching Mingi’s rhythm. “Let us feel all of it.” You whimper, overstimulated and breathless, caught between them. Every nerve in your body is alight, your skin flushed and sensitive, and they’re both still inside you, thick and hard and relentless.

Yunho leans up just enough to nip at your lower lip, voice dark and husky. “Thought you could handle both of us, baby…” Mingi growls from behind, pushing in deep and making your eyes roll back. “She is. She’s taking us so well.” They fall into a rhythm again, fluid, devastating, and you swear you’ve lost track of everything but the way they feel. Every thrust from Yunho pushes you forward, only to have Mingi drag you right back. The way they alternate is enough to have you dizzy, another orgasm building way too fast.

Your moans turn to gasps. Hands scramble to hold onto something, anything, Mingi’s thigh behind you, Yunho’s shoulders beneath you, the edge of the couch, your brain foggy with pleasure. “Fuck, Yunho…. she’s shaking again,” Mingi pants, voice wrecked. “know,” Yunho grits out, trying not to lose it, his own high crawling up his spine. “You gonna come again for us, baby?” You nod, wildly, desperately, body already teetering on the edge as Mingi slaps your ass. “Use us. Come again.”

Your orgasm crashes into you, raw and powerful, your vision going white as your body goes limp between them. You scream, literally scream, as pleasure rips through you like fire, and both of them curse at the feeling of you tightening again. Yunho bites your shoulder, groaning so deep it rattles your bones. Mingi growls behind you, pulling out just long enough to thrust back in with purpose. You can feel Mingi slipping. His grip tightens on your hips, the muscles in his thighs trembling against the backs of your legs. He’s panting harshly, forehead pressed to your spine, his thrusts getting rougher, deeper, more erratic. You know that sound, that low growl in his chest, the one that always comes right before he falls apart.

“Fuck… fuck, I’m gonna….” Mingi gasps, pulling your hips back one last time before slamming into you hard, bottoming out with a deep groan. “God, I’m coming.” You feel it, feel him twitch and spill inside, warmth flooding through you, and the sound he lets out is somewhere between a curse and a moan as he presses his body flush to yours. He doesn’t pull out right away. Just stays there, buried deep, catching his breath, chest rising and falling against your back.

Yunho is still hard beneath you. Still moving. Still watching. “Mine now,” he murmurs low against your throat, voice shredded. “You’re mine now.” And he doesn’t wait. Mingi pulls back just in time for Yunho to shift you higher in his lap, gripping your thighs, fucking up into you harder, faster, unrelenting. He’s desperate now, so deep, so thick, so fucking good, and you’re already trembling again, your body twitching from overstimulation. “You feel that?” he pants against your mouth, slamming into you again. “You feel what you do to me?”

Your nails dig into his shoulders, breath hitching as your whole body goes tight, another scream caught in your throat. You barely manage to gasp, “Yunho… I’m gonna….” Yunho’s voice is commanding, hitting you like lightning. “Do it.” Your body seizes, head thrown back, eyes wide as everything snaps. You scream, hips stuttering, thighs shaking as your orgasm barrels through you. This one’s different, louder, messier, more intense. You can feel it pooling under you, soaking Yunho’s lap, your own thighs dripping as he holds you through it.

“Fuck,” Mingi breathes, watching from the side, dazed as you squirt all over his best friend. Yunho groans loudly, his control finally unraveling, his grip bruising your hips as he thrusts up into you hard one last time before stilling with a growl. “Fuuuck… yes….” he hisses, eyes squeezed shut, his head falling back as he spills inside you. No one speaks. No one can. All you can hear is the sound of waves crashing outside the villa and the three of you breathing in sync, wrecked.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The sun is low, golden, stretching across the water like it’s reluctant to set. The breeze smells like sea salt and fresh fruit, and the lazy buzz of a guitar plays from one of the vendor stalls nearby. Yunho’s walking slowly, sunglasses perched on his head, hands in his pockets, just a few steps behind Mingi as the two of you browse ahead of them, ducking between stalls, laughing as you hold up a ridiculous sunhat, pretending to model it. Yunho can’t stop looking at you. You’re glowing. Skin warm from the sun, hair up in a lazy bun, wearing his shirt tied in a knot at your waist over a pair of cutoff shorts that should not be legal. You look relaxed. Happy. Free.

And Yunho? Yunho feels something dangerous and perfect settle low in his chest. “You’re staring again,” Mingi murmurs beside him, voice lazy. “Not denying it,” Yunho mutters, lips quirking. Mingi chuckles, slow and smug, hands swinging casually as they walk past a stand full of knockoff designer sunglasses. “I told you, didn’t I?” he says. “Told you the two of you would get along by the end of the trip.” Yunho scoffs under his breath, but there’s no heat in it. “Get along’ wasn’t exactly how I’d describe… last night,” he mumbles, and Mingi just laughs louder.

“She’s good for us,” Mingi says, more serious now. “And we’re good together.” Yunho glances at him. “You’re not gonna get weird about it?” Mingi just shakes his head like it’s obvious. “You’re my best friend. She’s… her. What we have with her?” He grins, eyes flicking back toward where you’re now picking out bracelets from a cart. “It works. No jealousy. No competition. Just… us.”

Yunho doesn’t reply at first. He’s too busy watching you, the way you laugh with the vendor, the way your eyes flick over to catch him looking and linger, just a second too long to be innocent. And then you smile. That soft, knowing, I remember last night smile. Yeah. It works. It more than works. He’s going back home tomorrow with sand in his shoes, a sunburn on his shoulders, and two hands to hold. One calloused and warm from years of friendship. One soft and curious and so damn tempting.

And both of them?

Wrapped around him like gravity.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

He was back. You watched the house burst into flames and roar at you whilst blowing you away. The memories of that house now in the air, to forever be remembered. The necklace being the only thing to hold onto you, staying by your side no matter what happened.

Yet you don't believe it, you don't understand how the man himself can stand there in front of you with no signs of injury at all. His face wasn't weird...and neither was his body..so what's going on? Trying to touch him, your hands get stuck, makikg you spin your head to look behind you.

Shackles around your wrist, tightened by a weird blue jagged pattern which seemed nearly impossible to break out of. Gasping, you stared up at him, wondering why he'd ever tie you up...? He stared back at you, with a stare of absolute devastation and hurt.

"....No, stop it you died."

You stare around, bring the inner part of your mouth to try and help you snap back to reality. The pain only hurting the feelings more then intended, the thought of being perhaps hypnotised.

"I don't..."

You remember, stop lying, you always will.

-

"Since you're a grown up, I won't cover for you this time," Caleb teased, opening the door to your grandmother's house. You had both gone out in a small celebration for your return, it's been ages since you've visited your grandma and — especially — Caleb, your childhood friend.

It's been a long few years away, becoming a Deepspace Hunter and finding the time to go to your home house. As soon as you were given that opportunity, you took it without any doubt.

It was a full day of getting snacks, ordering food, walking around the city and watching the sun set together. Nostaglia filling the space in your mind the longer your hang out went. Caleb was his usual self; always cocky, teasing, mocking, yet also loving, caring and protective. He's been like that for ages, when he decided to become a pilot and have a future in airlines he got even worse.

Caleb was your closest friend, the person who you grew up with. And seeing him get so...protective when it came to that interaction in the alley made you second guess yourself. Was this really the Caleb you remember—

A deafening bang came from the right of to her body, the flames searing hot on your skin as the force of the explosion shoved you back with extreme force. "Ah!" You shrieked, falling onto the hard concrete. Nothing but concern and worry swimming in your blood as your eyes locked onto the burning house.

No sign of Grandma, no sign of Caleb. The house was burning, your memories following, your family leaving you behind to carry the burden of grief.

With a desperate grasp, you held the necklace to your chest, instantly feeling some sort of relief despite the pain surrounding your heart.

Come back, Caleb.

-

Come back Caleb....Come back Caleb....

"Come back, Caleb." You murmured, reliving that moment with tears rolling in your shocked eyes. A gloved hand reaches under your chin, lifting your stressed face upwards to stare into your eyes. It's him. No it isn't. Yes it is—

Caleb tensed at your word, the shackles loosening as you took this opportunity to remove yourself from them. You snapped your hands off of the shackles. Nearly instantly, you got up. Your hands pushed his chest as your other fist threw itself to his face. Unluckily, he managed to catch on.

His hand grabbed yours as his leg went out to kick your legs. You jumped, using your leg to strike his thigh, making Caleb let out a small groan. He took out a small baton, using the item to hit your face. A small squeak escaped your mouth as your hair draped over your face. Caleb hesitated but he did it.

Rapidly, he grabbed your hands and slammed you onto the wall to the side of the two of you. His tall frame hovering over you with nothing but anger in his eyes, he looked devilish. Yet you were fuming, betrayed and heartbroken while you continued to fight.

"Get off of me!" You yelled, your eyes watering with tears as you tried to fight whatever magic you were being controlled with. "Get off! Help! Stop!!—"

Suddenly, a familiar feeling went over your body as you saw a blue hue around you. You were so overwhelmed with emotions. Your breathing slowing down as the nostaglia feeling entered your body, you couldn't help but mumble to yourself. "What the fuck...what the—"

"What, do you not recognise me?" Caleb spoke back, his voice deepened from the last time you even heard his voice. His presence was so intimidated yet so comforting, you missed your family. You really did but the sense of unease was all that he gave you.

The tension nearly instantly deescalated, a look of understand and relaxation fighting its way to Caleb's face as he looked down at your slowly-forming traumatised face. 'Come on Caleb,' he scolded himself, 'don't scare the girl. She's traumatised.'

"You need to hear me out." He started but didn't get far before you started to fight against his evol. He couldn't help just let out a small laugh and the fact that you couldn't do anything.

"Fine, we'll have it your way."

Caleb grabbed a small needle from his inner pocket of his uniform, examining the liquid inside the tube with a focused eye. Ignoring your squirms and loud yells of begging and pleaded, he flicked the top of the needle before turning to you with a sorry gaze.

"Stay still," He ordered, his firm, big hand grasping your arm as the other hand inserted the needle and let the sedative enter your body. As you screamed and cried for him to let you go, he let out a few coos and sorrys. The cold feeling of a suspicious liquid entered your bloodstream, filling you with an uncomfortable sensation.

As soon as he finished, he removed the tube and used his finger to wipe away the blood.

The sedative worked nearly instantly, making your brain all mushy. With an unhealthy amount of fatigue building, you held onto his shoulder, trying to ground yourself against the feeling inside of you.

You began to slowly collapse into his arms, the mysterious liquid making you body turn weak with every few seconds. First your legs, then your arms, then your torso. It was a horrible feeling, like you were slowly dying. "What are...you...doing—"

"Shhh...just relax. I've got you." Caleb reassures, kneeling down with you as your body feel weak to the medicine. His hands holding you so tight that you were sure to not fall away from his grip once again. His eyes closed as he held your hand gently, his soft lips by your ear as he whispered.

"I'll be here to make you feel okay...I'll be here to give you protection, I'll be here to shield you from criminals...I'll be here to make this right again,"

His pinky finger interlocked with yours tightly, an unspoken promise.

"I promise."

When you woke up, the argument that rose was nothing that you've ever think could happen with your possible kidnapper and childhood best friend. What kind of Reddit post is this? You obviously were agitated by this — the person you've grieved and cried over for 6 months had apparently been alive all this time and was never hurt in the first place. How rude.

"Get me out of me Caleb! I don't want to be here with you alone." You snapped back, keeping a good distance between the two of you. He was dressed in a simple jumper with a familiar logo on it, matching trousers and boots. He glared at you, analysing your body from his position before closing his eyes and sighing.

"You're not going anywhere, I won't let you." His tone was rough yet it held possession, heavy possession. His arms were crossed agaisnt his chest and you could see the tension between his muscles and his jumper. Even the thick material was fighting to rip, his outline was so...arousing?

"I am." With a turn of your body, you ran towards the door with purpose. And you didn't stop running until you heard footsteps behind you. A hand grabbed your wrists and turned you around, one hand around your waist. The other hand went to your chin, softly rising your head to stare into the eyes of — surprise surprise — Caleb.

"Listen...I won't have you suffer because of me twice. I learnt my lesson the first time and I won't have them force me to make you suffer another time. Why can't you understand me?" His voice was quiet but also demanding, a sense of worry on his intimidating tone. "What else do you want me to say?"

"I want you to stop lying." You replied, your voice lowering in volume. Caleb sighed, his cologne strong as he held you closer to him. "I love you okay? I'll tell you everything just let me make things alright first."

"...I..." You scoffed, turning your head. "I don't believe you."

There was a few beats of silence before you heard a small chuckle escape his mouth, his breath on your neck. "Allow me to make you."

Slowly, his lips latched onto yours, so gentle that it surprised you. His other hand holding the back of your head softly as he used his evol to lock the door. Backing you guys up, the back of your thighs hit the soft mattress of Caleb's bed, leading you to fall over with Caleb hovering above you.

Yet the kiss never ended, your mouths moving at a fast speed as you savoured in his presence. His hands were quick, moving your head to kiss your deeper. His hips gently grinding into your mid section as he groaned into your mouth. After a few seconds, you finally pulled away, barely taking a breath before Caleb indulges you in another passionate kiss.

"...I need you..." He spoke through breaths and kisses, his mouth all over your face and neck. "...I promise...I'll explain everything once I know myself..."

Caleb slowly undresses the clothes he recent put on your body, his hand frantic whilst removing the buttons and gently pulling the shirt off. He work quickly, taking off your shorts and underwear at the same time. Caleb stares at you before lowering down to his knees, his strong hand wrapped around your thighs.

"Stay still," He demanded, feeling your legs moving. With no hesitation, Caleb latches his mouth onto your cunt, his tongue licking up and down your folds with precision. He messily made out with your pussy, groaning into your folds and savouring the taste.

Caleb's thumb moved from your thighs to your clit, rubbing soft circles onto it. You squirmed, trying to crawl away from his greed. Your hand grasping the bedsheets as you pulled away.

As soon as he saw the slightest bit of movement, he stopped you, staring up at you with a lustful gaze, slightly panting. "You better stay there before I make you stay there." His warning was small yet it held enough of a threat to keep you still — for now at least. Caleb continued to relentlessly eat you out, his tongue circling your clit in a quick succession.

"Ahh! Caleb! Please—wait! I haven't..." You let out a few pants, throwing your head back as your back met the mattress once again. Your legs rising as Caleb followed you, grinding his hips into the bed like an animal in heat. He groaned, his tongue flicking against your sensitive hole.

"Caleb! I'm gonna!—Fuck..! Slow down..!!" You begged onto deaf ears, Caleb increasing his speed. He wanted you to cum on his mouth, to release whatever stress you have onto him right now. "Cum," He breathed out, "cum on my tongue, you slut."

You gasped, finally releasing yourself onto his tongue. Your eyes closed as your hands found leverage in his hair, gripping tightly. Caleb let out a small "Fuck..." slurping up your slick with a desperate need. His hands tightened his grip on your thighs, huge hands squeezing and massaging the soft flesh of your thighs.

In less than a second, he was up, desperately pulling removing his tie. He He removed his shirt, seductively sliding his belt through the loops and removing his trousers. Caleb grabbed your shoulder, pushing you onto your stomach with a kiss on your back. You felt a smooth material go over your wrists, tying your arms behind your back in a secure grip. His tie.

"...Caleb you freak..." You murmured, a small amount of shock on your face which soon tuned to pleasure when you felt him line up his dick to your entrance. Your eyes opened as you felt the sheer thickness of his cock on your pussy. You tried look behind you and see what he was doing yet a firm unseen force held your head forward, "I warned you."

Caleb pressed his hips against yours, instantly filling you with that huge cock of his. The sudden feeling of him so far inside of you made you breathless, squirming against his tie. Your eyes opened wide, your mouth letting out a loud moan as he held your hips down with his hands.

"...You better brace yourself, I'm not holding back anymore." A hard thrust followed after, striking you deep and fast. His speed was merciless, his hips hitting yours with a heavy force. Your mouth couldn't even form a sentence, just mumbles and chopped words escaping from the pleasure of the man behind you.

Caleb didn't even think about the consequences of his actions, just having you close to him made him loose control. His hands pushed you back onto his cock, matching with his already slapping hips. The sounds of skin slapping echoed in your ears as you moaned out for him.

"You filthy girl...this pussy was just waiting for me to breed it hm? Is that what you want? Is that what you fucking want?" Caleb's hand struck your left ass cheek, his hand grasping your skin on impact. He spread open your cheeks, spitting where you were connected to make it even more wet for him. You nodded, moaning, "Yes C-Caleb! Yessss!!! Oh my!—" You cried, trying to figure out how to deal with this large amount of feelings in your lower half.

Caleb slapped your flesh once more, not holding back on his strength at all. Your brown skin nearly instantly blooming with a soft red hue. "So gorgeous...I won't let you go, not again."

Caleb lowered to your face, still thrusting into your wet cunt with purpose. "You can't bring yourself to hate me with every finer being in your body...can't you?" He mocked, staring at your fucked out face with an evil grin. You tried to answer, but you were apparently too late in his eyes.

Another slap landed on your right cheek, and another followed — harder than the last. "Answer me," He ordered, holding your hip. With struggle, you hummed back, "Hmm! I d-don't h-hate you! Oh Caleb, I can't do this..." With a few more thrusts, Caleb could feel you tightening around his hefty cock.

He let out a soft hiss, kissing your neck with gentle intention. "You gonna cum?" He asked with a softer tone, his hands rubbing up and down your sides.

Nodding, your mouth hung heavy. "I'm cumming..! I'm cumming Caleb!"

That intense feeling of letting that growing pleasure in your stomach go was so satisfying. Your moans loud as you stuffed your head into the pillows below you. Your legs shook as your orgasm rode out, Caleb still thrusting into your wet, sloppy pussy. He soon came after you, filling you up with a mixture of both you and his cum. The feeling of him filling you was enough to make you squirm more, whining at the feeling of being full.

After a few beats of silence, Caleb slapped your backside one more, rubbing the sore skin afterwards. "I'll rather hear you as well as feel you next time...but I'll let you go this time round."

You laid there, fucked out and fatigued whilst Caleb stood up, his dick slipping out of your cunt. "You're absolutely gorgeous..."

Caleb pressed soft kisses to your body, rubbing the bruises on your hips and untying your wrists. You felt that tension on your head go as he removed his evol, his hands rubbing your neck.

"I love you...I promise you that." He whispered. His whole intimidating and aggressive demeanour had disappeared somehow. But when you looked into his eyes, you finally saw him. That same boy from your childhood. Your best friend had sprung back to life despite all the trouble you both had gone through.

You replied, to the best of your standards, "...Pinky...?" Your voice was soft and also vulnerable, melting Caleb's heart.

He let out a small chuckle, holding your face towards him and locking it in with a kiss. "Pinky."

Caleb gave you a passionate kiss on the lips, holding your face with gentle fingers. He pulled away after a short time, laughing at your marked body. You let out a small giggle, "I didn't know you had that in you Caleb..."

"Neither did I, until I met you."

he pays you for your time. feels amused seeing you sit beside him with an almost visible question mark on your face, not knowing what to do. sure, you have a general idea what sugar babies do, but it was probably not simply watching an old romance movie while snacking on finger foods.

you think it must be some sort of foreplay, but he drives you home. the next time he calls you over, you eat together in a who-knows-how-many-stars restaurant in a tall skyscraper overlooking the city, which ends in a similar fashion. in the next, he takes you shopping and fills your closet with luxury brands, yet again ending the day with a drive to your shabby apartment.

and it's nice. it's really nice. to the point it's too good to be true. from the very beginning when you learned your client wasn't going to be an old geezer, you already thought you lucked out. but with sylus practically treating you as his girlfriend, leaving nothing to be desired, things couldn't be better. you can't even consider the possibility of being sylus's side chick that he's cheating with because there's nothing for him to gain from this arrangement. if you really think about it, sylus is basically throwing you all his money.

you think you can leave things like this. after all, you have nothing to complain about.

but on one of your gigs taking up a friend's waitress shift at a fancy restaurant, you see sylus with a woman.

they're both well-dressed. sylus always is, but now even more so with his styled hair and clean, crisp suit. the woman looks gorgeous in her champagne dress, all smooth silk and beautiful curves. the men around her can't help but stare.

he leads her to a table. pulls out her chair for her. smirks at her as they exchange friendly banter, looking like the picture-perfect couple.

a cold settles deep in your chest, even if you have no right to feel bad. you don't have the right to feel upset because it isn't like you're bound by any serious relationship.

but for the rest of the night, you try to avoid their table. you hope he hasn't taken notice of you, but that's probably wishful thinking considering you've felt an intense gaze on your back all this while.

eventually, they leave, and so do you. as you walk home, you try to dissect why you felt so awful. is it because he might cut you off now that he's interested in another woman? it must be. once he breaks off whatever you have, you're going to have a hard time finding someone else to mooch off of. you'll be back to the same old dreary lifestyle; the magic has worn off, and cinderella has to be miserable again.

but it isn't just that, even if it should be. you shouldn't feel so shitty seeing him with another girl if you only saw him as a client. somewhere along the line, you've started appreciating his quiet smiles, his teasing smirk, his kind gaze. there's something soft about his innocent touches, tucking your hair behind your ear or his thumb wiping away cake frosting on your cheek.

and you hate the idea of him doing all of that to that woman he was with.

“you should pay more attention to your surroundings, sweetheart.”

sylus interrupts your thoughts. you turn to look at the street beside you where you find sylus leaning against his car. waiting.

you hesitate only for a moment. you get in, and he drives you home. the silence is unsettlingly tense, so different from the comfortable quiet you've grown used to in your past drives.

eventually, you bring yourself to speak. “let's go to your house.”

sylus says, “i haven't asked for your services tonight.” it's soft, teasing, and most importantly, it's not a no.

the familiar manor comes into view, grand and imposing as always. he opens the car door for you. asks to carry your bag. unlocks the front door.

he drops it when you push him down the plush sofa, catching him by surprise. you've never quite seen him as stunned as he is now, stock still as you press your mouth against his. clumsy. unsure. yet eager. his fingers tangle in your hair, unmoving for just a moment, but soon he manages to tear himself away.

“i didn't ask for you to do this.”

he hasn't. he probably never intended to do this sort of thing in the first place.

but it isn't like he doesn't want to. his voice is strained. he's still holding you, as if afraid you'll pull away once you realize this is a bad idea. he's staring at you like you're the only thing that matters.

and you realize that you enjoy this attention. you like having his hands around you. you like him doting on you. you like him looking at you.

you don't want him to look at anyone else.

and, you come to realize, you want this just as much as he does.

---

there's a sense of clumsiness when you wrap your hands around his cock, hesitant and unpracticed. you seem as if you've never done this before. sylus should not be as thrilled as he feels at this discovery.

perhaps he should be a little turned off. but his dick feels the hardest it's ever been when you start giving kitten licks to his tip, innocently looking up at him through your lashes like you're asking for praise.

he murmurs filth under his breath when your lips close around his head, sucking at a spot that makes him shudder. he forces his hips to stay absolutely still even if he wants to destroy your throat. he can't afford to scare you away now. not when you're finally within his reach.

yet sylus can't help but run his hand through your hair, pulling you closer. making you take him in deeper. guiding your head as you bob up and down. you're gurgling around his cock, spit dripping from your mouth, tears in the corner of your eyes. so obviously struggling but still sucking more of him in, eager to please. you choke when his cock hits the back of your throat, and still, you hollow your cheeks, licking everywhere you could.

and that does it for him, making him finish much, much quicker than he means to. his cum fills your mouth, warm thick streams that overflow from your lips. he doesn't expect you to swallow, ready to catch with his palm, but you gulp it all down like a good girl.

sylus's chest fills with deep satisfaction. he tells you well-deserved praise as he showers your face with pecks, capturing your lips in a kiss that tastes bitter but oh so nauseatingly sweet.

he wants to reward you for being a good girl, you he pulls you to the edge of the mattress, pressing down on your thighs as he digs in. the first lick on your pretty pussy makes you yelp, legs kicking out in surprise. he gives your thighs a warning squeeze, and by the second, you're obediently staying as still as you can, whimpering to your palm.

you taste as sweet as you look, and sylus hums contently as he licks up all your slick and it never runs out. you moan so nicely for him when he laps at your clit, continuously flicking his tongue at the small bud, and you all but scream when he sucks it hard, tangling your fingers in his hair and jerking up your hips.

he doesn't complain when you ride his face, staring intently at your expression twisted in pleasure. your mouth is shaped around an ‘o’, eyes rolling back as he dares to slip his tongue inside your hole. he rubs your engorged clit with a rough thumb, fucking in and out your pussy with his tongue, groaning amidst the lewd symphony of squelches.

he hasn't planned on touching you, no. but he's thought of it countless times on nights he felt especially lonely after you left. imagined you on his lap, fondling your soft chest, playing with your cute pussy. he wondered what spots made you feel good, where you'd be sensitive. what faces you'd make when he touched them.

sylus doesn't have to wonder anymore, committing the sinful sight to memory. you've always been cute, but he thinks you're even more adorable now, squirming as he gently eases a finger inside you. you're wet enough to fit two, but it's still quite tight; it might take a while before you can take him in. he presses a reassuring kiss on your inner thigh when he finds your g-spot, telling you to stay still and be good.

so sylus spends a bit of time between your legs, adding more fingers as he laps away at your clit. at your first orgasm, he fucks you through it, not stopping his hand until the spray of cum has ceased. by the second, you've drenched his sheets and his arm, but by the way you're moaning his name almost incoherently, you don't want him to stop.

on the verge of a third, a fourth finger teasing at your entrance, you're begging him to fuck you. sylus has felt close to bursting for a while, so he doesn't complain. he rubs his cock between your wet folds, tapping at your clit with the head. slicking his cock with your juices as he marvels at how tiny you seem under him, the length of him intimidatingly massive laying on your stomach.

when he pops the tip of his cock inside, you clench around him immediately, warm and so goddamn tight. he can't slide it in one, smooth thrust; he fucks it inside bit by bit, observing your face for any signs of pain, but all he sees is a dazed, drooling slut, crying out his name and for him to put it all inside her. he shushes you, reasoning he has to be slow, but he's very well on the edge of his patience.

when his cock is halfway in, you turn into a shuddering, sobbing mess. his tip has poked somewhere sensitive, and when he grinds against it, you squirt hard, spraying cum on his abs. he laughs in disbelief, meanly rubbing tight circles on your clit to make your orgasm last longer.

once sylus has finally bottomed out, he whispers endless compliments to your ear, hands roaming around your skin. he can't stop his hips from thrusting, tirelessly fucking in and out of your soaked cunt with vigor he hasn't had in years. sylus doesn't consider himself the vocal type, but now he can't shut up about how pretty you are, how good and sweet you are for him. how nice and tight your cute pussy feels, how you're made to take in his huge cock.

he uses you the way he imagines in his dirty fantasies, like a whore he pays to bed. yet at the same time, you're his precious little princess, the one person he shouldn't hurt. the one person he should treat with utmost care. the one person that should stay untainted by the filthy world.

but you're moaning so loud, enjoying being his little slut. you want to be fucked hard and fast, fingerprints on your hips and waist. you want to be bred full of his cum and do it all over again. you want to be his.

so sylus takes you in all the ways he knows how. on your back. on your knees. on his lap. he lets you ride him, fucking up into your cunt when you get tired. he takes you against the wide, clear window panes, uncaring if someone might have seen. he fucks you while standing, holding up all of your weight, making you watch yourself on the mirror as he thrusts inside. he never once pulls out when he cums, your pussy crammed with his hot, milky loads.

you make a mess everywhere, but you don't have time to worry about it. you don't even worry about the chances of getting pregnant, being pumped full of sylus's cum. even if you did end up pregnant, sylus keeps going on and on about wanting you to be his pretty wife, that he won't let you want for nothing, that he'll provide for your every need if you'll just stay with him.

and in the face of his love, bordering on desperate obsession, you don't even know why you were ever worried about him falling for anyone else.

The voice came from the end of the bar, deep and dramatic, and there he was, Mingi, sprawled on one of the barstools like he owned the place. His hoodie was black, hood down, exposing the messy tangle of his hair he never bothered to fix anymore. A whiskey glass sat untouched in front of him, and he was hunched over like the weight of the world was crushing him.

“You’re still here?” San asked, glancing at the clock. “Didn’t you say you were leaving, like, an hour ago?”

Mingi ignored the jab, dragging a hand through his hair like a man who’d seen things. “Do you know what it’s like to be ruined, San? Ruined?”

San raised a brow. “I work in this bar. I see at least ten people a night who look ruined.”

Mingi groaned, dropping his forehead to the counter with a dull thud. “No, no. You don’t get it. I’ve been alive for over a hundred years, and I’ve never been this…” He waved a hand in the air. “wrecked.”

“Wrecked,” Jongho echoed flatly, sipping blood through a straw in glass. “By what? A bad haircut?”

Mingi lifted his head just enough to glare. “By her,” he said, like that explained everything. “I swear to god, I’ve never had sex like that in my entire undead life. My brain is still trying to reboot.”

San rolled his eyes at the vampire. “It’s been like two months.” Before Mingi could comment, the door to the bar opened, and Yunho walked in. He looked… annoyingly perfect. Dark jeans, black button up rolled at the sleeves, his hair falling effortlessly into place like he’d stepped out of a magazine instead of the Lower East Side. He had that lazy, dangerous energy about him, like he didn’t need to try to make every head turn.

“God,” Yunho muttered as he slid onto the stool next to Mingi, “if I have to hear you cry about, the best night of your life, one more time, I’m going to stake you myself.” Mingi smirked without looking at him. “Jealous?”

“Of what? You pining like a Victorian maiden because some girl let you eat her out?” Yunho asked dryly, leaning his elbow on the bar making San choke and Jongho to roll his eyes so hard they might’ve gotten stuck.

“Not just some girl,” Mingi said, eyes narrowing like Yunho had just cursed his bloodline. “She’s different.”

“You said that about the yoga instructor in Brooklyn in the 90s,” Yunho shot back causing Mingi to shake his head, deadly serious now. “Nah, man. This isn’t the same. That girl… she did something to me. I swear I’ve been thinking about her nonstop. Haven’t even wanted to feed. I’ve been living off coffee, blood bags and anger for two months.”

“Maybe she saw your face in daylight,” Jongho muttered. Mingi ignored him, turning toward Yunho with a grin that was anything but innocent. “You’re one to talk. Weren’t you sulking about your mystery girl not too long ago? What was it you said?” He tilted his head mockingly. “‘She’s different, Mingi. She’s so special.’”

Yunho’s eyes narrowed. “Shut up.”

“Oh my god,” San muttered under his breath, realizing this conversation could spiral into hours of vampire pissing contests.

Mingi leaned back on his stool, grin wide and smug. “What’s the matter? Did your little human princess ghost you too?” Yunho’s gaze darkened, but his smirk was sharp. “Pathetic. You’ve been alive for a century and still act like a frat boy after spring break.”

“And you,” Mingi shot back, “have been alive for a century and still get emo about women you meet once. At least I got her name.”

San’s grip on the bar tightened. He was officially regretting not quitting this job months ago.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The diner was always louder on Friday nights. Not because it was busy, God, no. The food was decent, the coffee was cheap, and the jukebox still played songs that made Y/N question what year it was. But something about the crowd, the late shift weirdos, the post party girls with smeared eyeliner, the occasional trucker falling asleep over pancakes, made everything feel buzzed around the edges.

She was leaning against the counter, chewing on a straw, watching the rain smear neon reflections down the windows. Her apron was wrinkled, her sneakers had long since given up, and her ponytail was barely holding on.

Next to her, Santana was blowing a bubble with her gum like it was the only thing keeping her entertained. “You ever think about quitting?” Y/N asked, not looking away from the street.

“Every time a grown man orders eggs like it’s a damn emergency,” Santana replied, deadpan. The bubble popped. “Why?”

Y/N shrugged. “Just wondering what rock bottom smells like. Because I think it’s hash browns and burnt decaf.”

Santana snorted, grabbing two mugs from behind the counter. “Speaking of rock bottom, guess what I overheard at table nine.” Y/N arched a brow, only mildly curious. “If it’s about the lady who thinks JFK faked the moon landing, I already got the full conspiracy rundown last week.”

“No, no,” Santana said, setting down the mugs and leaning in, voice dropping low. “It’s about a club.” That got Y/N’s attention. She turned, blinking. “Okay, go on.”

“Apparently,” Santana said, eyes glinting with gossip, “there’s this spot that only opens on the weekends. Like, exclusive as hell. No website, no flyers. Velvet Midnight.” Y/N raised a brow. “Velvet Midnight? That sounds like a lingerie brand.”

“Or a porn star,” Santana nodded solemnly. “But these women, table nine, swore it’s real. Said it’s some kind of exotic club. Like, sexy dancing, strange drinks, private rooms. One of them said she went once and didn’t come home for two days.” Y/N blinked. “Was she kidnapped or just having the best weekend of her life?”

“Unclear. But I’m intrigued.”

“Oh no,” Y/N muttered, already seeing where this was going as Santana smirked, leaning on the counter like a cat ready to pounce. “I want to go.”

“Of course you do.”

“And I want you to come with me.”

Y/N groaned. “Tannie…”

“Oh come on,” she whined, poking her side. “We never go out anymore. You’re always moping around in that hoodie like a sad sexy raccoon. Let’s be sexy and mysterious in a club we might not survive.”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the tagline for every horror movie ever.”

Santana grinned. “Exactly. But imagine, us, dressed like sin, slipping into a club nobody knows how to find, probably drinking cocktails with names like, Blood Oath or Sinful Confession. Tell me that doesn’t sound hot.” Y/N bit her lip, then sighed. “You don’t even know where it is.”

“I will by tomorrow. These women were chatty.”

Y/N laughed despite herself, finally smiling for real. “Fine. I’ll come.” She could use a night out, some fun. Especially after a two month dry spell.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N’s bedroom was a mess of eyeshadow palettes, fishnets, and discarded “almosts.” She stood in front of the mirror, one hip popped out, frowning slightly as she adjusted the strap of her sheer black top layered over a cherry dotted bralette. Red faux leather pants hugged her curves like sin, and the glossy finish caught the light every time she shifted her weight. Her lips were painted a shade of deep oxblood, and a spiked collar sat snug against her throat, sharp, sexy, and just enough to say, don’t touch unless invited.

From behind her, Santana let out a long, low whistle. “Bitch. If you don’t get laid tonight, I’m gonna riot.” Y/N snorted, but her smirk in the mirror was smug. “You think it’s too much?”

“Too much? You look like you just walked off the stage at a goth burlesque show and into my wet dream.” Santana flopped back onto the bed dramatically, her mesh top glinting in the low light. “If you were any hotter, the devil himself would make a bid.”

Y/N turned back to the mirror, sliding her hands down her thighs. The pants were tight. Painted on. Unholy. Good. From the other side of the apartment, the front door opened and shut. Keys clattered. A hoodie hit the floor. Then, San’s voice, calling down the hallway: “Y/N?”

“We’re in here!” Santana yelled back, tone too chipper, like she was definitely hiding something. Seconds later, San appeared in the doorway, a little flushed from the walk, damp hair curling slightly against his forehead. He was already pulling off his work shirt, tossing it into the hamper as he padded into the room with a towel slung over his shoulder.

He paused. Blinked. “Uh…. Whoa.” His eyes flicked over Y/N’s outfit, and he immediately looked up at the ceiling like it was the most interesting thing in the room. “You going out like that?”

Y/N grinned. “Why? Too much?”

San blinked rapidly. “No, it’s just…. uh, wow. Okay. Just didn’t expect you to look like… that.”

“You mean dangerously hot?” Santana offered.

“Shut up,” he muttered, face reddening as he reached up to tug the towel around his neck. “I’m gonna grab a shower. Then I’m meeting someone.”

Y/N raised a brow. “Ooooh. Mysterious someone?”

San smirked slightly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Just… a guy I’ve been seeing.”

Santana perked up from the bed. “Still haven’t met him. Are you sure he’s real?” Y/N crossed her arms. “Seriously, what’s the deal? You keep disappearing, you’ve got this stupid little smile on your face when you get home…”

“I do not,” San scoffed.

“You do,” both girls said in unison making San roll his eyes and start backing out of the room. “His name’s Wooyoung. That’s all you get for now.”

Y/N tilted her head. “And where exactly are you meeting this secret boyfriend of yours?” San paused in the doorway. Something flickered across his face, too fast, too subtle. “Just out,” he said casually. “Bar scene. You know.”

Santana raised a brow. “Oh? Funny. So are we.” San leaned against the doorframe, looking between them. “Where?” Y/N smirked. “Just out.” He narrowed his eyes. “You’re being cryptic.”

“You’re being nosy.”

“Touché.” San held his hands up in surrender, backing into the hallway. “Fine, don’t tell me. But if I have to bail you two out of jail again, I’m cutting off your coffee fund.”

Y/N laughed. “Rude.”

“Fair.”

He disappeared into the bathroom, and a moment later the shower kicked on, steam already curling beneath the door. Back in the room, Santana turned to Y/N, one brow raised. “That boy’s definitely hiding something.”

Y/N nodded, eyes flicking to the hallway. “He never used to lie.”

“Neither did we,” Santana grinned. “But here we are. All dressed up for a club we’re not supposed to know exists.”

Y/N turned back to the mirror and smoothed her hands down her sides one more time. The black mesh glinted over her chest, the silver necklaces laying like temptation against her collarbone. Her pants creaked faintly with each breath. Every inch of her body screamed trouble.

“Let’s go cause some,” she whispered, smirking to herself.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Backstage at Velvet Midnight always smelled like heat, sweat, and blood. The club pulsed beyond the curtain, low and slow like a heartbeat. The floor shook with the bass, dancers prowled the mirror lit prep room in various stages of costume, and the air was thick with the buzz of magic and lust.

Mingi sat alone in the corner on a worn leather couch, shirtless, eyes half lidded, fingers painted red. The lighting above him flickered slightly, either a dying bulb or the energy rolling off him in lazy waves. The human at his feet wasn’t moaning anymore. He wasn’t breathing either.

Mingi let his head roll back against the couch, licking a smear of blood off his wrist, tongue dragging slow as a sigh. The body on the floor still twitched every now and then, reflexes firing even after the pulse had stopped. “Should’ve left when I said stop begging,” Mingi murmured, voice low and almost lazy. He didn’t look apologetic. He didn’t look angry. He just looked… full. Sated. And he wasn’t thinking about her. Not right now.

The bite hadn’t even been about hunger. It had been about distraction. Satisfaction. Control. Something to fill the space she left behind without taking root the way her taste had. Because no matter how many lips he kissed or throats he fed from, no one was her.

But he wasn’t going to mope about it. Not tonight. Not when the club was full, and he didn’t have to perform until later with Yunho. He smirked to himself. That was going to be fun. Yunho hated sharing the spotlight. Hated when Mingi got messier. Wilder. Which was exactly what Mingi planned on doing.

He was still licking his thumb clean when the side door creaked open and San stepped inside, hoodie half zipped, hair damp from a rushed shower, the faint scent of drugstore body spray clinging to his skin, suffocating any other lingering scent he would of had. His boots stuck slightly to the floor, someone had spilled something that definitely wasn’t alcohol earlier, and he grimaced as he stepped further in.

Then he saw it. The body. The blood. The fucking smile on Mingi’s face. “Oh, come on,” San muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. “Really?” Mingi looked up, entirely unbothered. “Hey, Sannie.”

“Don’t call me that.” San glared at him. “What did Joong say about killing in the backstage lounge?” Mingi shrugged, licking one of his fangs with lazy precision. “Don’t.”

San gestured to the corpse. “And yet?”

“He begged.”

“God.” San dropped his bag near the lockers with a thud. “This place has no HR.”

Mingi stretched like a cat, long limbs unfolding, blood still glistening along the inside of his forearm. “Don’t worry. He didn’t feel a thing after the second vein popped.”

“That’s not the comfort you think it is.” San grabbed a towel from the rack and tossed it at him. Mingi caught it one handed and wiped the side of his mouth with exaggerated slowness. “You’re in a mood,” Mingi said, sniffing the air. “You come straight from work?”

San didn’t answer him as he opened his locker and started pulling out his change of clothes, black pants, sheer sleeveless top, thick silver chains. “You’re so unhinged.” He finally remarked.

Mingi glanced down at the body, then back at San. “Jealous?”

“Of that?” San scoffed. “Not unless he tipped well.” Mingi laughed, tossing the towel aside. “You always this grumpy before you dance?”

San peeled off his hoodie, already feeling the heat of the club creeping under his skin. “Only when I have to walk in and see corpses before clocking in.”

“Drama queen.”

San once again didn’t reply. He just grabbed his kohl eyeliner from the locker shelf, dragging it along his lower lash line in one smooth motion. His reflection in the mirror blinked back at him, sharpened, glittering, deadly. “You performing tonight?” he asked, not looking at Mingi.

Mingi leaned back again, kicking his feet up on the couch arm. “Later. With Yunho.” San paused mid swipe. “Oh?” Mingi’s grin stretched wide. “Haven’t danced with him in weeks. Should be fun.”

“Fun,” San echoed. He didn’t say what he was thinking, You two together on stage is a fucking problem. He just kept getting ready, pretending not to notice the faint red stain on the floor slowly seeping toward his boot.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The gas station buzzed under flickering yellow lights, the kind that made everything look slightly off color, like a scene waiting for something to happen. It was wedged between an empty car wash and a 24 hour laundromat, humming quietly against the dark stretch of road like it didn’t know it was about to become the setting of a moment that would change everything.

Y/N stood at pump four, one hand tucked into the waistband of her red pants, the other holding the nozzle steady. She could see Santana inside, flirting shamelessly with the girl behind the register. The occasional laugh, low, flirty, dangerous, spilled through the open door like perfume.

Y/N wasn’t paying attention to that. She was too busy adjusting her top under the mesh. It clung to her just right in the mirror of her car’s window, tight, dark, just enough glittering hardware at her throat to feel powerful. She looked like a problem. She felt like a secret.

The gas meter clicked up slowly. The wind brushed her hair back from her face. She glanced down, thumb brushing over her rings. And that’s when it happened. A car door clicked shut across the lot making her look up instinctively, casual, uninterested. And froze.

Yunho.

Tall. Dark. Leaning against his car like he didn’t know he was the first real thing she’d seen in months. He was dressed in black, again. Black jeans, black boots, black button up half unbuttoned, exposing a sliver of pale skin and a silver chain that glinted under the gas station lights. His sleeves were rolled up to his forearms, veins cutting sharp beneath the surface, fingers flexing like he hadn’t quite relaxed in years.

He hadn’t seen her yet. But she couldn’t breathe. Her grip tightened on the pump handle, knuckles pale. Her heart did something stupid in her chest, something fast and stuttering, something that made her feel like she was right back in his bed, mouth on his, hands clutching his shoulders like salvation.

She hadn’t seen him since that night. Four months. Four months since he fucked her like she was a secret he wanted to keep. Since he had her like she was made to be worshipped. Since she vanished without a trace, like a fever dream he hadn’t fully woken up from.

And now he was just… here. At some shitty gas station on the edge of nowhere. She blinked. Swallowed. He hadn’t changed. Still walked like he owned every space he stepped into. Still looked at the ground like it had answers. Still made her feel like a live wire without even touching her.

Yunho turned slightly, opening his car door to grab something from inside. Then he looked up. And saw her and everything stilled. His hand froze on the doorframe. His eyes locked on hers like he was trying to remember what reality was. She didn’t move. Didn’t smile. Didn’t breathe.

Yunho straightened slowly, lips parting like he might say something, but no sound came out. His gaze dragged down, over the red pants, the fishnet sleeves, the collar glinting at her throat and something in his chest curled tight. She looked… different. Harder. Hotter. Stronger. And he had no idea if she’d slap him or kiss him.

Or both.

The pump clicked in Y/N’s hand, startling her making her jerk slightly, pulling it free and returning it to the cradle before wiping her hands down the side of her thighs, trying to buy herself a second. Just one second to figure out what the hell to do as she turned toward him, but Yunho was already walking. Slow. Measured. Each step a test of control he wasn’t sure he had.

Y/N didn’t move. Not until he stopped just short of her, a few feet of thick night air between them. Not touching. Not speaking. Just seeing.

Yunho’s voice came out low, a little rough, like it had dust on it.

“Hey.”

Y/N blinked once. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Yunho huffed a soft laugh, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “Yeah. That makes two of us.” He didn’t move any closer. But he didn’t look away either as he stood there, hands in the pockets of his dark jeans, jaw tight, expression unreadable, but his eyes were soft. Heavy. Watching her like he didn’t know if he was dreaming. Like he’d already replayed this moment a thousand times in his head, only now it was worse, because she was real again. And she looked like this.

“You look good,” he said finally, voice low and smooth. A flicker of something darker laced the edges, like heat, like memory, like want.

Y/N’s jaw ticked, but she didn’t back down. “It’s been four months.”

“I noticed. You snuck out,” he said simply, a small smile playing at the corner of his mouth. “Didn’t even wake me.”

Y/N’s lips twitched. “You were sleeping.”

“I’m a light sleeper.”

“You didn’t move.”

“I didn’t want to scare you.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You didn’t want to say goodbye.”

Yunho paused at that, the air shifting slightly between them. His smile faded, just a little. “Maybe.”

She crossed her arms over her chest, the collar at her throat catching the light again and Yunho’s eyes dropped there for a second, quick, subtle, but not fast enough. “Where are you headed?” he asked, casually, like it didn’t matter. Like it wasn’t clawing at the inside of his ribs.

She lifted a brow. “Out.”

Yunho tilted his head. “To…”

“Some club.”

“Oh?”

She didn’t blink. “Yeah.”

He chuckled softly, the sound a little breathless. “You always this vague or just trying to keep me guessing?” Y/N smirked. “Why? You want to follow me?” He didn’t answer right away. Because yes. Yes, he wanted to follow her. Wanted to know who she danced with, who she smiled at. Wanted to see what kind of club deserved her in red leather and mesh and a spiked collar like sin made flesh.

But before he could open his mouth, the bell above the gas station door jingled as Santana strutted out, still grinning from whatever nonsense she’d just whispered to the girl behind the counter. She was tucking something into her bra, probably a phone number, and didn’t notice anything strange until she caught sight of Yunho.

Then she paused. Brows raised. Smile lazy. “Helloooo, stranger danger,” she said, striding over to Y/N’s side. “You gonna introduce me to this tall, dark, and ruin my life looking situation?” Y/N opened her mouth, but Yunho spoke first. “Yunho,” he said, offering Santana a small, charming nod. “Friend of Y/N’s.”

Santana’s brow quirked. “Oh?”

“Old friend,” Y/N corrected, folding her arms tighter, eyes fixed on him like a threat.

Yunho’s smirk deepened.

“Well,” Santana said brightly, clearly delighted by the tension. “I’m Santana. Best friend. Emotional support. Perpetual bad influence. And you are very pretty.”

“Thank you,” Yunho replied, voice smooth as velvet. “So are you.” Santana grinned. “Stop. I might bite.”

Yunho’s eyes flicked between them both, and for the first time, Y/N swore she saw something shift in his expression. Just slightly. A twitch of his jaw. The faintest crease between his brows. Almost like a warning as Santana looped her arm through Y/N’s. “Anyway, we should get going before our table disappears.”

Yunho’s eyes locked back on Y/N, sharper now. “You have a table?”

“No.”

He tilted his head again, clearly picking apart everything she wasn’t saying. “So… no table… at this mystery club you won’t name.” Y/N just smiled, wide, pretty, and infuriating. “Exactly.”

Santana pulled her toward the car, and Y/N let herself be led, her steps slower, but she didn’t look back. Not until she opened the door. Then she glanced over her shoulder once seeing Yunho was still watching. Not moving. Not blinking. Just standing there, next to his car, the gas pump forgotten, eyes on her like he was memorizing her all over again.

And he had no idea. No idea where she was going. No idea who she was about to see. No idea that the girl who snuck out of his bed four months ago… was about to walk straight into his world again.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Velvet Midnight thrummed like a living thing. The bass shook the walls, muffled moans and cheers rising from the crowd just beyond the curtain. Strobe lights danced red and gold across the mirrors, catching on glitter and sweat and the flash of bare skin. Wooyoung was on stage, shirtless, hips rolling slow and sin slick, body a study in pure temptation. His hands traced the inside of his thighs, teasing the audience with sharp smirks and heavy eye contact. He was electric, magnetic. Dangerous in the way only someone who knew he was untouchable could be.

Yunho pushed through the hallway, dressed for performance but tense as hell, jaw tight, eyes scanning for someone to yell at. He still hadn’t shaken off the gas station. Y/N’s scent was still in his head, still clinging to his palms like he’d touched her just minutes ago. She looked even better than he remembered. And now she was out there, somewhere in the city, headed to a club she wouldn’t name, in pants that should’ve been illegal, and he had no goddamn idea what to do about it.

He stepped into the backstage lounge, exhaling sharply and Mingi froze. The second Yunho walked in, Mingi’s head snapped up from where he was crouched by the lockers, towel slung around his neck, still shirtless and glowing from his feed earlier. His eyes narrowed. His nose twitched. Then he stood. Slow. Like a hound catching scent for the first time in days.

Yunho blinked at him. “Uh. Mingi?” Mingi didn’t answer as he stepped forward instead, closer, too close, and sniffed. “Okay, what the hell are you doing?” Yunho snapped, shoving him back by the shoulder. Mingi’s eyes were wild, locked on Yunho’s chest like he could see scent molecules clinging to his shirt. “That smell,” he murmured, low, reverent. “It’s her. Where were you just now?”

Yunho stared at him like he’d grown a second head. “What are you talking about? Her who?”

“That scent,” Mingi said again, voice rising slightly. “The perfume, the sweat, the skin, it’s her. That’s my girl.”

Yunho’s brow furrowed. “Wait. Your girl?”

“Yes. My mystery girl.”

“No….. my mystery girl.”

Mingi blinked. “What?”

Yunho looked just as confused now. “I ran into her at a gas station on the way here. Just now. First time I’ve seen her in four months. She was pumping gas and….. oh my god.” His expression twisted. “You’re smelling that?”

Mingi’s lips parted as Yunho shoved him again. “Dude. Back up. The only girl I saw was my girl. And, okay, maybe her friend too, briefly, but still!” The two of them stared at each other, both panting now, tension spiking so hard it was practically radioactive. And that’s when Mingi went still. Like still still. Eyes narrowing. Chest rising slow.

“Oh… fuck,” Mingi whispered. And from the makeup counter nearby, San, who had been pretending to ignore them while applying body glitter, barked out a laugh so loud it echoed as he came to the same realization Mingi just did. He turned around, eyeliner in one hand, absolutely beaming. “Oh. This is beautiful.”

Yunho blinked at him. “You were listening?”

“I’ve been listening to you two whine about this girl for months. Months, bro. Whole moon cycles.”

Mingi was still in shock. “It’s the same girl.”

San tossed the eyeliner into his bag with a grin. “And y’all just now figured it out? I swear to god, if I weren’t already gay…”

“You’re not helping,” Yunho snapped.

“I’m not trying to.” San smirked, grabbing a water bottle and flopping into a nearby chair. “I’m soaking this in.”

Mingi dragged a hand through his hair. “I bit her, man.”

Yunho stiffened. “You what?”

“Barely. A scratch. But I tasted her.”

Yunho looked like he was about to combust. “That’s my girl.”

San took a long sip of his water, letting the two vampires spiral. He still had no idea. No idea that the girl they were both obsessing over, the one with the scent that haunted them, the mouth that ruined them…. was his sister.

And she was walking into Velvet Midnight right now.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Velvet Midnight wasn’t the kind of place you found by accident. It wasn’t on maps. Didn’t have a website. Didn’t even have a proper front door, just a matte black panel in a brick alley across the street from some bar, guarded by a man with silver eyes and a voice like smoke.

The club was drenched in color. Red velvet booths curved around the edges of the main floor like they were hiding secrets. The stage was massive, bathed in gold light and shadows, with iron cages hanging above it. The ceiling shimmered with some kind of moving projection, moons and fire and shifting constellations. Dancers stalked the catwalks like predators.

Everything was dark. Decadent. Charged. Y/N exhaled slowly as her heels touched down on the glossy floor. “Okay. This place is…”

“So slutty I might cry,” Santana breathed beside her, gripping her arm like she needed an anchor. Their eyes drank in everything, the velvet, the leather, the way every person in the room looked touched by something unholy. Even the crowd was beautiful. The energy was thick. Electric. Addictive.

They drifted toward the bar, drawn by the gleam of crystal decanters and the low hum of music that vibrated in your ribs. The bar itself was carved from black marble, glowing faintly beneath their fingertips. And behind it stood him. Hair dark, parted neatly, dressed in a silk shirt with buttons undone just enough to show collarbone and sin. His eyes were lined in kohl, sharp and precise, and his lips looked like they hadn’t smiled in years. But he smiled now. Barely. Just enough.

“Ladies,” he said, voice calm, smooth, with a hint of something cold beneath. “First time?”

Santana leaned on the bar with both elbows, grinning. “Is it that obvious?”

“Only to those who know where to look.”

Y/N blinked. Something about his voice felt strange. Familiar. Not in a memory way, more like a dream. Like hearing music she couldn’t name. Santana, as usual, paid no attention to that tension. “Well, since we’re virgins to this place,” she purred, “why don’t you pop our cherry with the strongest thing you’ve got?”

Yeosang, the 300 year old vampire, tilted his head, like he was studying a painting. “You sure?”

“Always.”

He smirked. Then turned to the back bar, hands moving with grace that was almost too perfect. He didn’t pour, he performed. One bottle, matte black with a red wax seal, was uncorked with a flick of his thumb. A crystal decanter added something glowing and amber. And then… something else.

Y/N didn’t catch it. She didn’t see the faint shimmer in the third bottle, how the liquid inside clung too thick to the sides. She didn’t see the brief flicker of Yeosang’s eyes, gold, then gone as he tipped the vial just so. When he set the glasses down in front of them, they were deep red. Not wine. Not whiskey. Something darker. Glossier.

“This one’s called Hellfire,” Yeosang said, his voice smooth as silk over flame.

Santana raised her glass. “Cute name.”

Yeosang held her gaze. “It’s not just a name.”

Y/N didn’t ask. She didn’t know. Didn’t know that vampire blood, when stirred into liquor, dissolved like sugar in fire. Didn’t know that when consumed by humans, it was a drug. One that didn’t hit right away, but when it did? It wasn’t just a high. It was transcendence.

Heightened pleasure. Sound. Touch. Skin. Lust. A euphoric rush that rolled slow and hot through the bloodstream, like being kissed from the inside out. She didn’t know. But Yeosang did. And he watched them both lift the glasses to their lips like a priest watching a sacrament be swallowed.

The Hellfire tasted nothing like its name. It was warm. Smooth. Sweet with something that lingered. Almost floral, but richer. Like honey burned at the edges. Like the last sip of a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

Y/N licked her lips as she set the glass down, her mouth tingling faintly, heat curling low in her stomach. She thought maybe the alcohol was just that strong. That maybe the music and the lights were already playing tricks on her. But the drink felt… good. Too good.

Santana tilted her glass toward Yeosang. “I don’t know what’s in this, but I want it on my deathbed.” Yeosang’s mouth curved faintly. “It’s a house blend.”

Y/N narrowed her eyes slightly, swirling what remained in her glass. “You’re really committed to the whole mysterious bartender thing, huh?”

“I like to keep things interesting,” Yeosang said, gaze slow and steady. “Especially with new faces.”

“You always this smooth?” Santana asked, sipping again.

Yeosang shrugged. “Only with women who ask for the strongest thing I have.”

That earned a laugh from both of them as Y/N leaned on the bar, her body already relaxing under the low lights, music humming through her ribs. She felt good. Light. Like her skin had turned to warm silk and every sound had been dialed up just slightly. The music felt closer. The air, softer. Her pulse fluttered for no reason at all.

Then the lights dimmed further. A single spotlight flared on the stage. And everything stilled. A figure stepped out onto the platform, slow, deliberate, utterly composed. His silhouette was long and lean, movements fluid like water. Then the music changed. The bass hit low and dirty, a slither of sound that curled down your spine, and the spotlight lit him fully.

Y/N and Santana both froze in place. He was… stunning. Sharp, ethereal. Dressed in black slacks and an open vest that revealed smooth, pale skin and sculpted muscle. His hair was slicked back, lips painted red like blood and promise, eyes rimmed in dark shadow that made them look unreal. He walked the stage like it was built beneath him. Like it existed only to carry his grace.

“Holy shit,” Santana whispered. “He’s not real. That’s not a man. That’s a Greek statue who learned to dance.” Y/N didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Her mouth was dry, fingers clenched slightly around her empty glass. Every movement the man made was deliberate. His hips rolled to the beat, slow and sinful, hands trailing down his chest like a lover’s touch. He turned just enough to show the curve of his back, the arch of his neck. And when his tongue flicked across his bottom lip? She felt her stomach drop.

Yeosang watched them over the rim of his own glass now, a small, knowing smile tugging at his mouth. “You like him,” he said softly.

Santana let out a breathless laugh. “Like is a strong word. I want him to bite me and ruin my life.” Y/N finally found her voice, low and slightly dazed. “Who is he?”

Yeosang set his glass down. “That’s Seonghwa.” The name landed like silk and shadow. They didn’t know who he was. Didn’t know he’d been alive longer than most bloodlines. That he danced not to seduce, but to feed, on attention, desire, worship. That every sway of his hips, every roll of his neck, was designed to make humans ache. They didn’t know he was a vampire just like the bartender behind them.

Didn’t know that they were already under the influence of something more potent than alcohol. That their eyes were dilated. Their pulses were skipping. Their voices slower now, more languid. The Hellfire was beginning to creep in. They didn’t notice it yet. But Yeosang did.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho sat on the edge of a vanity counter, shirtless, head tilted back as he drained the last inch of blood from a silver lined pouch. The plastic crinkled as he squeezed it dry, fangs glinting faintly in the glow of the bulbs lining the mirror. The blood was cold. Not ideal. But it was enough to keep the beast quiet, for now.

Across from him, Mingi was humming off key, a tub of gold glitter open in one hand, the other gently smearing it along Yunho’s collarbones with a flat makeup brush. “Do you have to hum while you do this?” Yunho muttered, licking a trace of blood off his thumb. “It helps me focus,” Mingi replied, leaning in. “And it’s not my fault you have premium cheekbones. They deserve shimmer.”

Yunho rolled his eyes but didn’t stop him. They were halfway through their usual pre performance ritual, blood, glitter, and an unspoken agreement not to talk about her. It had been ten whole minutes since they’d last argued over their mystery girl. Thirty minutes since figuring out their mystery girl was the same girl.

Mingi was just about to start working on Yunho’s shoulders when the door slammed open. Hard. The air shifted immediately as Hongjoong strode in like a storm on a leash, black on black suit tailored to filth, fingerless gloves, every silver ring on his hands glinting like a threat. His aura hit the room like a slap of pressure, enough to make even the music from the club fade to a background pulse.

“What the fuck is that?” he barked, jabbing a finger toward the far corner of the room. Both vampires turned. The body was still there. Crumbled near the lockers, pale and unmoving, neck torn in a way that was more artistic than necessary. Dried blood stained the floor in a messy halo. Mingi blinked. “That’s Kyle.”

“Kyle is dead, Mingi,” Hongjoong snapped, voice like a whip. “And Kyle is on my backstage floor.”

“He begged,” Mingi muttered. “Like, really hard.”

“I don’t care if he got on his knees and called you God. We do not leave corpses backstage.”

Yunho snorted into his now empty blood bag, tossing it into the trash without comment and Hongjoong spun on him. “Don’t even start.” Yunho raised his hands in surrender. “Hey. I’m not the one who went full Van Helsing massacre in the locker room.”

“Not helping,” Mingi muttered, still dabbing glitter to Yunho’s shoulder because priorities as Hongjoong exhaled through his nose like he was trying not to implode. “You two are on in thirty. Clean that shit up. Now.”

Mingi frowned. “We’re artists, Joong. Can’t you let us focus on our craft?”

“You want to get real artsy? Fine. I’ll have Yeosang pour you a cocktail of bleach and mop water. But if that body’s still here when I walk back in, I swear to fuck, I’ll make both of you work a Tuesday shift.”

Yunho paled. “You wouldn’t.”

“Try me.”

Tuesday shifts were human night. No blood allowed. Just watered down cocktails and bad tippers. Mingi looked truly stricken. “That’s cruel and unusual punishment.”

“So is draining someone and leaving them on the floor like a goddamn prop.” With that, Hongjoong turned and stalked out of the room, the door slamming behind him with the kind of finality that promised violence if disobeyed.

Yunho licked his canine, sighing. “So… you wanna handle the corpse or should I?” Mingi twirled his glitter brush. “Rock paper scissors?”

“Loser drags him to the boiler room.”

“Deal.”

San wasn’t listening, ignoring the vampires this time, standing in front of the mirror, shirtless except for the black leather harness that crossed over his chest like an X, sweat already glistening down the lines of his collarbone. His pants were low slung and laced at the sides, skin peeking through where the leather gapped. Around his neck hung layered chains, clinking faintly with each movement.

But it was the half mask, the black silk bandana pulled up over his mouth, that made him feel like someone else entirely. He tugged it into place, hiding his face from the nose down, letting the mystery do some of the work. His eyes, already rimmed in smoky liner, were sharp. Intense. He was a performer here. A human among vampires.

He adjusted his rings, rolled his neck until it popped, and stepped into the shadowed wings of the stage. The previous act had ended. The crowd was lit, pulsing with anticipation. He inhaled once. Then walked into the light.

The moment he stepped on stage, everything snapped into place. The beat hit, low and deep, vibrating like a second heartbeat and San moved like the music had teeth in his spine. He prowled. Rolled. Dropped low with a twist of his hips that made people scream. The mask gave him mystery. The way he moved gave him power.

He knew he was hot. He just didn’t care. Until the second chorus hit, and he turned his head sharply toward the crowd, fingers tugging the mask down to reveal his jaw, his mouth….

And stopped moving.

For just a second.

Because he saw her.

Y/N.

His sister.

Standing just off center near the stage, dressed in tight red leather and a mesh top, collar glinting at her throat, pupils blown wide, lips parted…

And watching him with absolute, stunned horror.

His feet stayed planted, body still mid dance, mask hanging around his neck. Her lips didn’t move. But her eyes screamed what the fuck. Beside her, Santana clutched her arm and gasped, “Oh my god… is that your brother?!”

Y/N didn’t answer. Couldn’t. Her body had gone hot cold, spine prickling, blood rushing in her ears. It was San. San, her half brother. San, who told her he was bartending tonight. San, who was now on stage at a strip club with his abs glistening, pelvis grinding, and women and men screaming his name.

And he had seen her.

Locked eyes with her.

Looked like he’d swallowed a grenade.

San’s body jolted back into movement on instinct, spinning away and hitting his mark, hands gripping the pole with practiced strength but he was spiraling. Hard.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

San burst offstage like the room was on fire. Mask half hanging from his neck, chest rising and falling with each frantic breath, he practically slammed into the green room like the floor was lava and his sneakers were made of sin.

“She’s here!” he gasped, wide eyed.

Wooyoung, half dressed and glistening from his last routine, barely looked up from the mirror where he was fixing his eyeliner. “She? Babe, you’re gonna have to narrow that down. It’s a club full of shes.”

San flailed his arm toward the door. “My sister is here!”

Yunho, perched casually on a couch in mesh and leather, froze. “Wait…. you have a sister?”

Mingi blinked from his spot in front of the mirror, shirt off, abs shining with body oil and highlighter. “You never said anything about a sister.”

San dragged a hand down his face. “Because she’s supposed to be normal! She works at a diner and makes banana bread when she’s stressed, she doesn’t go to clubs like this!”

“Define normal,’” Wooyoung muttered.

Yunho was trying not to laugh at the human. “She saw you perform?”

San nodded, then groaned and dropped onto the nearest bench, head in his hands. “I think my soul just left my body.”

Mingi snorted, finishing a final dusting of gold shimmer along his jaw. “Well, is she hot?”

San’s head snapped up so fast it was a miracle his neck didn’t break. “What?!”

Mingi blinked. “I’m just saying….”

“She’s my sister, Mingi.”

“Okay, yeah, but, like… is she hot?”

San looked like he was ready to stake Mingi himself as Yunho cleared his throat. “Alright, hold on. Let’s all just calm down. San, maybe she doesn’t even know what the club really is?”

“She saw me grind on a pole while a woman tucked a twenty into my waistband,” he said flatly. “She knows.”

The snort of actual humor that echoed from Hongjoong’s office made San groan.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Y/N’s brain was melting. There was no other explanation. The glittering lights overhead felt too bright, the bass was inside her bones, and her skin felt like it had been dipped in champagne. She could feel everything. Her fingertips buzzed. Her heart was racing. Her eyes were locked on the stage, wide and disbelieving.

She had just seen her brother. San. Grinding. On a pole. Half naked. Looking like he’d walked off a poster for the world’s filthiest rave. He had locked eyes with her mid routine and nearly tripped over his own foot. Santana hadn’t helped.

“OH MY GOD. Is that your brother?!”

She’d nodded, too dazed to lie. And now? Now she couldn’t even catch her breath. Because the second San disappeared backstage, probably to scream into a wall, the lights had shifted again.

Another pulse of music. New beat. New energy.

And the stage was suddenly occupied by not one, but two new figures.

The first one, dark hair slicked back, cheekbones sharp, jaw dusted in gold shimmer, moved like a predator in velvet.

The other, broader, lips curled in a lazy smirk, radiated danger like it was a second skin.

Yunho.

Mingi.

Both of them.

Onstage.

Shirtless. Glowing under red light. Bodies in sync with the music. Swaying. Rolling. Sliding hands over each other like they knew exactly what they were doing to the crowd.

Y/N didn’t breathe.

Not when Yunho threw his head back and ran a hand down his chest. Not when Mingi bent low and rolled his hips to the beat, fingers gripping the edge of the stage like he could pull the world toward him. Not even when they moved closer, mirroring each other, practiced, poised, filthy.

“Y/N?” Santana’s voice sounded far away. “Babe… I’m pretty sure I just had a religious experience.”

Y/N blinked.

Hard.

“Those are… them,” she whispered.

Santana looked at her, confused. “Them who?”

Y/N’s hands clenched around her empty glass. “My… one night stands.”

Both of them.

At the same time.

On the same stage.

Santana choked on her own spit. “I’m sorry… what?!”

Y/N didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

Because the music was swelling and her knees felt like liquid and….

Oh.

Oh shit.

It was hitting.

The Hellfire.

It was in her blood now.

The world didn’t feel real. It felt like honey and neon and silk. Like her heartbeat had been replaced with music. Like Yunho’s eyes, when they swept across the crowd and paused for half a breath on her, were burning into her soul.

Mingi followed suit a moment later, gaze sweeping lazily then his body twitched. Just a bit. Like he’d caught a scent he wasn’t expecting.

Y/N’s breath caught.

The lights changed again.

The beat dropped.

And on stage, her two one night stands became two obsessions.

Performing.

Together.

For her.

And they didn’t even know.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The moment they stepped onto the stage, Yunho felt it again. That same pull. That same fire under his skin. She was closer now, he could see her flushed cheeks, thosw blood red leather pants hugging her hips, the way her breath caught when Mingi rolled his hips on beat beside him.

He hadn’t stopped thinking about her since the gas station. Not for a second. Seeing her again, after four months of silence, had lit a fuse in his chest. But it was when he walked into the club earlier, before the performance, before the lights, that everything changed.

Because Mingi had smelled her on him.

And gone still.

Yunho’s jaw locked tight. His fangs ached. His body wanted to leap off the stage and take her somewhere dark, somewhere private, somewhere his. And next to him, he felt Mingi burn the same way.

Mingi couldn’t breathe. She was here. Their girl. His girl. The one who kissed him like she owned him and then kicked him out before her brother got home. He could taste her name. The one who haunted him. He’d smelled her on Yunho the second he got to the club, sweet, addictive, soaked into his skin like a brand.

And now she was right fucking there. He couldn’t stop staring. She didn’t even know what she was doing to them. Her scent was flooding the air, warm, open, laced with vampire blood from a drink Yeosang must of given her. He could feel it dancing under her skin. That high. That haze. The way her pupils were blown wide and her knees were starting to sway.

She looked wrecked already. And they hadn’t even touched her yet. Mingi’s lips parted, breath ragged. His body screamed to get closer. He didn’t care about the lights, the stage, the eyes on them. All he wanted was her, on her knees, on his tongue, on his goddamn grave if that’s what it took.

The crowd roared as Yunho and Mingi ended their set in a final, mirrored sweep, two shadows cast in heat and glitter, slow burning sex stitched into every breath they took. Y/N didn’t even clap. Couldn’t. She was too high. Not off anything she’d asked for, no. But whatever had been in that drink, Hellfire, Yeosang had called it, was now singing through her veins, turning her bones to syrup and her nerves into exposed wires.

“I need…” she licked her lips, pulse pounding behind her eyes. “I need another drink.”

Santana laughed, drunk on the music and maybe more. “You’re lucky I’m a bad influence.”

They made their way back toward the bar. The air felt thicker. Her skin buzzed, electricity sliding up the back of her neck like a whisper. She leaned her elbows on the counter, heart still racing.

Yeosang was already there. He looked effortlessly calm, like a panther in a black satin button up. His eyes flicked toward them as he set down two more glasses. The liquid inside glowed like it had its own heartbeat. “You’re back,” he said smoothly.

“Need round two,” Santana winked, tossing her curls and tapping the rim of her glass. “Of course.” He slid them forward. “Double Hellfire.”

Y/N didn’t ask what was in it. Didn’t ask why her skin still tingled from the last one. Didn’t ask why Yunho and Mingi’s eyes still felt like they were burning into her from across the room. She just picked it up and drank. Behind her, a quiet figure approached.

San.

His hoodie was half zipped, jaw clenched, the black mask he’d worn on stage now shoved into his pocket. He looked rattled, still catching his breath from the performance… or maybe from the fact that his sister was now in the middle of this world to.

“Y/N,” he said tightly, eyes darting to her, then to the glasses in front of her as Yeosang turned to him. And for just a second, his smile curved sharper. “Don’t worry,” he said quietly, soft enough Y/N wouldn’t catch it, but San did. “I gave them a little Hellfire… a little of Mingi’s blood.”

San stiffened.

Yeosang’s eyes gleamed. “She won’t get hurt,” he added, almost like a joke. “But you might want to keep an eye on her.”

San’s mouth went dry. “You gave her blood?”

Yeosang just smiled. Because what San didn’t know, and what Y/N sure as hell didn’t know, was that drinking vampire blood, especially after already having sex with the one it came from, did something.

It triggered a connection.

Not love. Not fate.

But a bond.

One that opened doors between bodies.

And sometimes? Souls.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Backstage was buzzing. Hongjoong was barking at someone over lighting, Wooyoung was still dripping sweat from his last set, and Seonghwa was sipping something red and expensive from a glass etched with gold.

But Mingi didn’t hear any of it.

He staggered.

One second he was reaching for a towel, and the next, his knees buckled.

Yunho caught him by the elbow, eyes narrowing. “You good?”

“No…. no, I….” Mingi sucked in a breath, eyes going wide. There was heat crawling under his skin. Not normal heat…. hers. She was inside him. Not physically. Not yet. But in his mind, like a heartbeat he couldn’t silence. He could feel the weight of her hips against a chair, the way her lips parted around a breath, the high pitched laugh that curled in her throat. Her skin burned with the Hellfire, but her mind was spinning, spiraling…..

And all of it was bleeding into him.

Yunho frowned. “What the hell’s going on?”

“I…. fuck……” Mingi’s head snapped toward the club floor. His nose twitched. “She’s high on it. Hellfire. But not just that.”

Yunho blinked. “Not just….”

“My blood,” Mingi rasped, dragging his hand over his mouth. “Yeosang… he put my blood in it.”

Yunho froze. Dead quiet. “What?” he said, voice sharp.

Mingi turned to him, eyes wild, glowing faintly, pupils wide. “She’s bonded.”

Yunho’s heart dropped into his stomach. “You mean…”

“I can feel her,” Mingi growled. “Yunho, she’s fucking buzzing, she’s wet, she’s flushed, she doesn’t even know what’s happening but I do, and I swear to god I’m about to lose my mind.”

Yunho was quiet for a beat too long. His jaw locked. His fists curled. “She drank your blood.”

“It’s like I meant for it to happen,” Mingi breathed, staggering toward the curtain again. “But I feel her. She’s mine now.”

Yunho’s eyes flared red just for a flash. Because he’d had her first. But Mingi had her now. And that bond, that bond wasn’t his.

“Let me go!” Mingi snarled, struggling against Yunho’s grip on one arm and Wooyoung’s vice grip on the other as his fangs had dropped fully. His eyes were glowing red. He looked seconds from frenzy. “I can feel her!” Mingi growled, jerking forward again. “She’s flushed, she’s laughing…. she’s touching someone. I swear to god, I will rip their throat out if they don’t get their hands off her!”

“You’re not thinking straight,” Yunho hissed, sweat glistening at his temple. “That’s the bond. It’s just the blood talking.”

“It’s her!” Mingi roared. “She’s mine. You don’t get it, Yunho. She’s in my head. I can feel her smile. I can feel her thighs shifting. I can hear her heartbeat like it’s inside my goddamn chest.”

Mingi’s hands were shaking. Not just his hands, his entire being. He was vibrating with need. His vision was going red, mouth dry, muscles tense like something inside him was clawing to get out. “I need her,” he said again, hoarse, eyes unfocused. “I can’t…. she’s laughing, she’s breathing, she’s…. fuck…. I feel it. Everything. I can’t think. I….”

“Mingi.”

Wooyoung’s voice cut clean through the noise. Steady. Low. Not teasing. Real. It was rare. So Mingi froze as Wooyoung’s hand clamped down tighter on his shoulder, not to hold him back now, but to anchor him. “The first time a bond hits you,” he said slowly, looking him dead in the eye, “it makes you insane. You feel everything. Want everything. You think if you don’t touch them, you’ll combust.”

Mingi’s lips parted, breathing sharp. “I know,” Wooyoung added, voice dropping a little lower. “Because I bonded with San.”

Yunho blinked beside them, shocked silent for once as Mingi’s eyes snapped to Wooyoung’s. “Yeah,” Woo huffed, like it was nothing. “It was… messy. And loud. And San cracked the bed frame.”

Yunho choked and Wooyoung ignored him. “You’ll level out,” he said. “Eventually. You just have to breathe through it. Don’t act on it while the bond’s still raw or you’ll lose control. and so will she.”

Mingi winced, like the thought hurt. “She doesn’t even know what’s happening,” he muttered.

“Exactly,” Wooyoung nodded. “So get your shit together. You scare her right now, you don’t get a second chance.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

“I can’t believe you’re a stripper.”

“I’m not a stripper,” San groaned, dragging a hand down his face as Y/N grinned, all teeth, still high from the Hellfire and dangerously close to giggling again. “You were literally on a stage with your shirt off, dancing to The Weeknd, and throwing your sweat at the audience.”

He narrowed his eyes. “It’s called theatrics.”

“Uh huh,” she drawled. “It’s called being a slut with lighting cues.”

“Exotic dancer,” he corrected through gritted teeth.

Y/N snorted. “Well, guess what, Magic Mike. That dinner with Mom and Dad is going to be real interesting.”

San went pale and Y/N took another sip of her drink like she hadn’t just threatened his peace, his dignity, and his entire bloodline in one sentence. “I’m telling them you made a whole girl pass out by licking your lips,” she added sweetly.

“Y/N, I swear to god….”

“I’ll even bring up the mask. You kinky little weirdo.”

“Don’t you dare!”

“Oop, time for another drink.”

And as she turned back to the bar, cheeks flushed and grin wide… Mingi, still backstage, gasped. Because her laughter echoed through his ribs like thunder.

Y/N leaned her weight onto the bar, fingers tapping the glass as she giggled at literally nothing. The music had shifted to something darker now, slow and pulsing, like the heartbeat in her ears, and the lights seemed to smear and melt, every color a little too pretty, every sound a little too loud.

She didn’t feel drunk. Not exactly. She felt… good. Really good. Warm, tingly, high like she’d been kissed from the inside out. “I feel like I’m floating,” she whispered, smiling down at her own fingers like they were fascinating.

Next to her, Santana was spinning her straw in circles and humming along with the bassline. Her hair was falling in her face, her pupils blown wide, and when Yeosang walked by again, she grinned at him like she might climb across the bar and lick his jaw.

“Okay,” San said tightly, eyeing his sister. “Time to go.” Y/N blinked up at him, confused and glowing. “Huh? Why? We just got here.”

“Exactly,” San said, voice sharp with something protective. “And whatever’s in that drink has clearly hit both of you hard. I’m not letting you stay in here like this.”

Santana waved him off, half laughing. “We’re fine, Sannie. It’s just a little buzz.”

“Don’t call me that. And it’s not just a buzz,” he muttered under his breath, glancing back toward the bar and specifically, toward Yeosang, who had the nerve to smirk at him as he wiped down a glass.

He turned back to Y/N. Her eyes were unfocused, cheeks flushed, neck shimmering with sweat and glitter and something else. He’d seen a lot working here. He’d seen what Hellfire could do. But Y/N looked like it was hitting her ten times harder than Santana.

And that made him nervous. “You okay?” he asked, voice gentler now, leaning in to brush hair from her face. She blinked at him, smile dreamy. “I feel really good. Like… warm. Like I could run a marathon and take a nap at the same time.”

San exhaled slowly. That wasn’t just Hellfire. He didn’t know what the hell Yeosang put in that second round, but he had a very bad feeling about it. “Come on,” he said firmly, wrapping an arm around Y/N’s waist. “Let’s get you both home.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

San’s arm was firm around Y/N’s waist as they made it up the stairs to their shared apartment. Santana stumbled ahead, cackling at nothing before dramatically collapsing on the couch in a glittery heap. “Wake me for brunch,” she slurred.

“Not happening,” San muttered as Y/N leaned heavier against him, her steps soft, her limbs loose like she was half asleep, half dreaming. “I feel weird,” she mumbled as he guided her toward her bedroom.

“You’re okay,” he said gently, trying not to sound freaked out. “Just lie down. You’ll sleep it off.” She flopped onto the bed with a muffled hum, rolling onto her back and staring at the ceiling with an unfocused smile. San pulled her shoes off and reached for the blanket.

“Good weird,” she added, sighing. “Like someone’s hugging me from the inside.”

San paused.

“Okay, that’s enough for tonight.”

She laughed softly, unaware of how her words made his stomach twist. He brushed a hand over her forehead, tucking a piece of hair back. “Get some sleep, dummy.”

“Night, Sannie.”

He closed her door behind him, but she didn’t even notice. Because in the dark, alone in her room… something warm stirred low in her belly.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Mingi was pacing. Back and forth. Back and forth. The moment he and Yunho got home, he tore off his shirt, too hot in his own skin, dragging his fingers through his hair like it might help him breathe.

It didn’t.

“I can’t stop feeling her,” he rasped.

Yunho sat on the arm of the couch, watching him with tense eyes. “She’s probably asleep now.”

“No, she’s not. She’s…” Mingi cut off, growling, “She’s trying to sleep, but she’s restless. She’s flushed. Her sheets are too warm, her skin’s tingling. She’s thinking about…. fuck, I think she’s thinking about me.”

Yunho swallowed hard. He wasn’t going to show how pissed he was because none of this was exactly his best friend’s fault.

Mingi stopped pacing, bracing both hands on the wall, forehead pressed between his arms like he was trying to push the heat out of him. “It’s like the bond is teasing me. Like it wants me to lose control.”

“You won’t,” Yunho said quietly, even though his jaw was tight.

“You don’t know that.”

“I do,” Yunho said, standing now. “Because I’m here. And I won’t let you.”

Mingi turned slowly, eyes blood bright. “She’s mine now,” he said quietly. “And she doesn’t even know it.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The sheets were soft. That was the first thing she noticed, how soft they felt beneath her thighs. Silk, almost. Cool against her heated skin.

Then the mouth. Hot. Insistent. Kissing up the inside of her thigh like it had all the time in the world. She gasped softly, shifting her hips as a tongue dragged slow, deliberate… and then teeth. Not sharp, yet, but close.

Her breath caught when she saw a shadowed figure between her legs, hair messy, lips already wet with her. His voice was low, gravel rich. Familiar. “You smell so sweet like this,” he murmured, kissing higher. “Bet you’d let me ruin you all over again.”

She didn’t answer.

Couldn’t.

His mouth moved higher, fangs brushing her skin now…. fangs? But her brain was too fogged to question it. Then he was over her, on her, mouth to her neck, licking a stripe from collarbone to jaw as she arched beneath him.

“Missed this,” he whispered, as if she’d ever given it to him before. “You’ve been dreaming of me too, haven’t you?” He kissed her, deep, slow, filthy, and then his hand slid between her thighs again, two long fingers sinking inside her like they belonged there.

She moaned, hips grinding down, her body riding his hand with eager, desperate rhythm. “You’re so wet for me, baby,” he growled, fangs dragging along her throat as his fingers curled just right. “You gonna come for me like this? Gonna soak my fingers before I even sink my teeth in?”

She whimpered. Rocked harder. Felt herself spiraling. And just as her climax broke… as her body trembled, her cry leaving her throat…. he bit. Fangs sinking into her neck, pleasure bursting into something feral, something wild, and she…

Y/N gasped awake, breath ragged, skin drenched in sweat. Her sheets were twisted, her thighs slick, her pulse thudding against her neck like a drumline. She clutched her chest, panting.

It had felt so real.

But it was just a dream.

Right?

Just…

Just a dream.

Wasn’t it?

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The kitchen was quiet, blackout curtains blocking the sunlight from pouring through the window like a crime scene spotlight as Yunho leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching Mingi stir sugar into his coffee with all the serenity of a monk on vacation.

Too serene. Suspiciously serene. “You’re in a good mood,” Yunho said flatly.

Mingi hummed. “Am I?”

Yunho narrowed his eyes as Mingi took a sip, eyes fluttering shut with blissful contentment. “Mm. Hazelnut. You never judge me, do you, baby?” he murmured to the mug.

Yunho didn’t blink. “You were pacing like a caged animal six hours ago.”

Mingi shrugged. “I guess Wooyoung was right. It’s just rough in the beginning. Bond hits hard, then it… evens out.”

Yunho’s brow ticked. “Just like that?”

Mingi smirked behind his mug. “What, you wanted me to still be feral on the floor?”

“No,” Yunho said slowly. “I just figured you’d be… I don’t know. Processing.”

“I did.” Another sip. “All night, in fact.”

Yunho’s mouth twitched. Because he had felt it. Not the bond. Not the blood. But something… hot. A pulse in the air. A breath that wasn’t his. A moan that wasn’t heard with ears.

And he’d known exactly who it was.

He didn’t know how. He just… knew. So the fact that Mingi was standing here now, smug and loose limbed and pretending he didn’t just psychically fuck their girl until she came in her sleep?

Yunho didn’t buy it.

Not for a second.

“You didn’t do anything stupid last night,” Yunho said slowly, “did you?”

Mingi’s smile was maddening. “Define stupid.”

Yunho’s jaw clenched.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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The world is pitch black underneath your blindfold. 

Yunho propped you up in the middle of the bed, on your knees of course, but this time, covering your eyes with a black ribbon, tying it securely around your head and underneath your hair. You could barely sit still, but you managed to keep it together while Yunho left the bedroom “to go get your surprise”. 

After only a few silent moments, you become restless. You could hear your heart pounding in your ears, straining to hear Yunho in the apartment. You move a stray piece of hair out of your face with your bound hands to give yourself something to do. 

Once you hear Yunho’s hushed voice in the hallway, your heart races and you immediately lower your hands back down.

Wait. Was someone else here? 

The door quietly creaks open and you freeze. Silence washes over the room like a bucket of ice water, and you so desperately want to shift uncomfortably, fix how you look, do something, but Yunho was very clear: 

Don’t move. 

A throat clears. An unfamiliar voice cuts through the silence.  

“You got me a call girl for my birthday?” Someone, not Yunho, laughed nervously. 

You almost flinch, expecting Yunho to raise hell onto whoever he brought into the room for calling you that. 

But nothing.

It quickly became clear that this was not just a random friend. They must’ve been pretty close for Yunho to even consider bringing him here, essentially confessing to him what he had been doing for the past few months. If he hadn’t been so special to him, that comment towards you would’ve earned him the business end of one of Yunho’s prized steak knives for sure. He must be special. How much so, you’ve yet to discover, and you’re not sure whether to be intrigued or slightly terrified.

Instead, Yunho chuckles. “No, this one’s mine. But I thought you’d like a turn with her for your birthday… unless I’m wrong?” 

The other man stutters, obviously confused and trying to wrap his head around what exactly this was. 

“She's very well trained, I can assure you that,” you can hear the smirk in Yunho’s voice, “why don’t you come meet her, Min?” 

Ohhh. This must be Mingi, the caller from when you lost your virginity. The one who unintentionally saved you. Yunho had talked about him before, starting to tell you more about his friends as he pampered you. He had mentioned his birthday was coming up. You wondered what day it was. 

With your vision obscured, you can clearly hear him warily step closer to the bed, and Yunho, humming in approval, egging his friend on. 

“Isn't she beautiful?” Yunho asks dreamily. Mingi clears his throat again. 

“Y-yes, she is…but…” 

Your breath hitches at the word. ‘But’? Your cheeks burn in embarrassment, what did he not like already? How did you disappoint him already? You bite your lip and self-consciously pick at the outfit Yunho had dressed you in.  

Did he not like it? What would Yunho say? What would he do…

Yunho’s large hand covers one of yours to comfort you. Mingi battles with himself, eventually forcing himself to half whisper as if you couldn’t hear him.

 “Yun…. isn’t she that missing girl?” 

Ah. 

The deafening silence that followed nearly made you believe you had blacked out or something.  

So you were reported missing. Something familiar flickers in your chest that you can’t place.  Your parents' faces flash through your mind, though they’re a bit blurry now. Missing. But you were right here, still in the city you dreamt of travelling to one day. You wonder if anything has changed since the turn of the seasons outside. Outside…

You’re right where you’re supposed to be. Move on. 

And so you did. Tonight was special, you had to remain present for Yunho and his friend. Compliant. Perfect. And yet, you couldn’t so easily shake the new, slightly heavy feeling that now weighed on your chest. The more you focused on it, the more it made your stomach churn. So… it had to be a bad feeling, right? If thinking about your life before Yunho made you feel like this, then maybe you really are right where you’re supposed to be. 

Move on. 

Yunho didn’t respond to his friend, gently brushing his fingers through your hair instead, his gaze darkening ever so slightly. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel the simmering anger that he hid so well. His hand flexes in your hair but doesn’t hurt you, just tensing for a split second. The only other indication of his unhappiness of That Topic being brought up was a slight crinkle of his nose. 

Mingi shifted his weight uncomfortably in the silence. He must’ve known it was the wrong thing to say to his friend. And yet, so much was said in that silence. Quiet affirmation. The younger man, courageous as he was, then spoke again.  

“Is that why she’s tied up?” 

“Like I said,” Yunho’s voice calm and level as ever, “she’s mine,” 

Mingi coughs. “Right…” he says, still a bit nervous to continue asking the questions his morality is begging him to ask, “so… h-how long have you… ‘had’ her?” 

Yunho rubs his thumb against the back of your hand. “How long has she been missing?” 

Mingi makes a noise and takes a step back. Then two. How is one supposed to react when they find out their best friend has been holding someone against their will? There’s no manual, no common baseline to follow. Mingi’s voice gets stuck in his throat as his mind races, screaming at him to get the hell out of there. 

“I don’t– I mean– this is… you can’t just–” 

You bow your head, shielding yourself from his disapproval.  

Yunho sighs, getting back up off of the bed, and you mourn the loss of his comforting touch. 

“Princess,” he coos, and your heart skips a beat at the nickname, only to quickly realise it wasn’t aimed at you. “It’s okay… she wants to be here. Don't you, doll?” 

Picking up on your cue, you nod as convincingly as possible, looking blindly towards his voice.  

“Yes, Daddy,” 

Mingi almost chokes, needing to take a second to regain his composure. Your – he guesses he could call it ‘enthusiasm’ – shocked him. What had Yunho done to you?  

“Yun this is… this is kidnapping,” he hisses the last word, “it’s a felony, you’ll go to prison for– does Hongjoong know about this?” 

Yunho huffs, getting a bit agitated now. “You trust me, don’t you, Min?” 

“Wh– yes, but–” 

“Then trust me that I will tell Hongjoong when the time is right. In return, I am trusting you with my most prized possession for your birthday. Come on, princess, I gift-wrapped her specially for you to enjoy…” 

Another unfamiliar name. You wondered why this ‘Hongjoong’ would ever need to know about you. To be honest, you felt safer when only Yunho knew about you. And more wanted, you think to yourself, wanting to just curl up in a ball and hide from Mingi’s disapproval. 

“Don’t tell me you did this for me. No. No, Yunho, I can’t.” This time his voice is more steady, and you’re able to hear every ounce of criticism and condemnation he had. He’d said he can’t, what he really meant was: he won’t. 

However, you don’t get to dwell on that as, abruptly, the air feels like it's being sucked out of the room. And you know. It’s the same feeling that occurs whenever Yunho is mad, or getting very close to being mad. Usually though, those possibilities are just one and the same. You dig your nails into the palms of your hands, bracing yourself for whatever was about to happen. It’s not often, especially in this room, that Yunho is told ‘no’. 

You hear Yunho cracking his knuckles, and your heart starts to hammer in your chest. It’s a habit he has, he does it most when he’s pissed off. There’s a sigh, presumably from him, followed by a loud THUD as something heavy collides with the bedroom door. You remain as still as can be, but you’re about to break several teeth from how hard you’re clenching your jaw trying to remain calm. A couple seconds later, you can just barely hear Yunho saying something to Mingi, the two of them a bit farther away now. You could only assume he had shoved his friend up against the door. One of them raises their voice a little, the other shouting back in explosive Korean, but you’ve already turned your brain off. It was much easier to disassociate and just be glad it wasn’t happening to you this time. Yunho will get his way, and all will be well. 

Just wait. 

“You’re fucking crazy. Do you even understand how fucked this is? How the fuck did you think I was gonna react? You can’t just keep her here like this while her family’s out looking for her! You can’t offer her up to me like she’s property, Yun. I have to report this–!” 

Yunho snaps, “Do you really think I’m just gonna let you walk out? If you say anything, your career’s gonna go up too. Think your fans or the public are gonna forgive you for being my best friend? Hm? Your family?” He lets out an exasperated laugh, running a hand through his hair, “If you think I’d go down for this alone… you’re crazy.” 

He pauses briefly, shaking his head in something akin to disbelief. The next time Yunho speaks, it’s quieter, letting his words hang in the air between them, “You’re just as fucked as I am if you say anything.” 

Mingi lets out an involuntary huff of air like he’d just gotten punched in the chest. He couldn’t believe what was happening, how his best friend could’ve kept something like this from him for so long, and how he had done it in the first place. And now? His best friend just openly blackmailed him. Threatened him.

The silence lasts this time, and all is still. Your body nervously shakes, adrenaline pulsing through you as you remain motionless, glued to the bed unless Yunho took you off of it himself. 

Your thoughts couldn’t help but drift to what Mingi had said. Your family. But… Yunho had said they had never been looking for you? Why would he– 

He wouldn’t lie. You can’t trust what anyone else says. 

A small sound snaps you out of it, drawing your attention back over in the direction you think they’re in. Stifled sobs from the bedroom door. A moment later, what sounded like rustling of fabric, and then the sound is muffled. A voice gently shushes the other, and with time, all is quiet again. They exchange some barely audible words with each other, privately, just for them two to hear, and eventually, you can hear them slowly walk back over, closer to the bed. You wait with bated breath.

Mingi speaks again, his voice recovering and watery, “Just…please untie her first.” 

Your heart nearly broke for him. 

There’s a beat before Yunho gently grabs your wrists and obeys Mingi’s request – something you never would’ve expected him to do, especially after the things they said to each other just minutes ago.  

You hear the fabric that once bound you fall to the floor with a soft thud and then a very small sigh of relief. You can’t help the sharp intake of breath when you feel the bed suddenly dip in front of you. A pair of hands you can’t quite determine to be Yunho’s or not begins to almost hesitantly coast up your body, playing with some of the bows and lace from your outfit. 

You keep your breath as steady as possible and you don’t move an inch. One of the hands pushes your hair back over your shoulder, tracing your collarbone just like Yunho had done earlier.  

Maybe it was Yunho? Maybe he’s just trying to throw you off guard? But you couldn’t be convinced he was in the mood to do that sort of thing right now. 

The same hand migrates to your jawline, ghosting his fingertips over every inch of skin there. You notice he’s wearing more rings than usual. His thumb presses down on your bottom lip and he leans in close to you, his breath tickling your ear. 

A husky, deep voice quietly pleads to you, “Need to hear you tell me you want this. Please?”

So, not Yunho. 

It was clear Mingi needed peace of mind before doing anything with or to you. Reassurance before he bit into the forbidden fruit, the felony charge.  

You. 

You simply nod once, unsure if you had permission from Yunho to speak yet or not. 

“Please?” He breathes, shakily. 

You try to blindly look for Yunho, needing to know if you had permission. Luckily, he picks up on your inner turmoil.  

“You have my permission to speak, doll.” His voice comes from your right. 

“Thank you, Daddy.” 

Mingi stiffens, obviously still taken aback by this unabridged, imbalanced power dynamic on display. 

You reach very slightly forward to find Mingi’s thigh with your hand, “I-I…” you clear your throat, distracted for a moment by how strong and thick his thigh felt. You can feel yourself becoming wet already. “I wanna be a good birthday present for Daddy’s friend.” 

He sighs before he speaks again, his voice barely audible. “I do anything you don’t like, or something doesn't feel good, tell me, and I'll stop immediately… okay?” 

Now you pause. Could you do that? You weren't so sure – at least not with Yunho watching or within earshot. Once again Yunho threw you into the deep end with no instructions on how to navigate the water. You just had to find out for yourself. 

Mingi waits a few seconds more until he realises he’s not going to get a response from you, probably noticing your inner dilemma. He nervously looks down at your small hand on his thigh and shudders. His larger hand finds yours, keeping it there. 

Mingi lets his other travel down to your exposed thighs, dipping a finger underneath the white lace of your thigh-high socks and tracing along before cautiously reaching under your too-short ruffled skirt. Your breath catches and you instinctively part your legs for him once he hesitantly cups your core. 

He inches closer, presumably for a better angle. A breath suddenly leaves him once he feels how wet you are for him, and you feel Yunho also get on the bed, to your left. 

“Go on, Min,” he says in a calmer, gentler voice than before, “it’s okay. Unwrap your present.” 

Soon enough, all the lace and ribbons and silk are gone, leaving you bare save for the pearl necklace Yunho had bought you three days ago, and a ruffled white lace leg garter on your left thigh. You blink a couple times to help your vision adjust once your blindfold is taken off and shyly dare a glance upwards at Mingi. 

He swallows hard, unable to keep his slightly reddened eyes off of you. “You’re… she’s so beautiful, Yun.” 

The aforementioned man grins, “I'm glad you think so. I think she likes you too.” 

You blush and look down, fingers absentmindedly playing with your garter. He was avoiding complimenting you directly. 

Smart boy.

A moment later, you’re moved onto Mingi’s lap by Yunho. You avoided eye contact with him, not necessarily to save Yunho from jealousy, or to spare Mingi’s guilty conscience, but because you were embarrassed and shy. This wasn’t exactly how people were normally introduced to each other. And Mingi… 

Maybe he was just surviving too.  

After more words of encouragement from his friend, Mingi began to slowly drag you back and forth on his thigh, testing the waters. Your hands tightened their grip on his shoulders, biting your lip to keep your whines and moans quiet.  

“Feel good?” Mingi asks, flexing his thigh and making you whimper.  

“Yes, sir... Daddy’s friend is making me feel so good.” you copy his indirect compliment style.  

He makes a quiet noise in response, and you can’t be sure if it’s positive or negative. He swears under his breath, looking down at the wet patch slowly darkening his sweatpants. The fabric, plus his thigh muscles against your bare core are intoxicating, quickly fogging up your brain and sending electric shocks up your spine. When he bounces his leg, you make a small noise but manage to keep it quiet. A dull fire already begins to spread deep in your lower stomach. You were getting close already. Mingi answers your quiet moans and whimpers with a small groan, pushing your hips down harder on his thigh. The pressure of it all builds rapidly –  until Yunho takes it away.  

He effortlessly lifts you back off of Mingi’s lap, setting you down on the floor on your knees. You swallow your nerves and your eyes flick up to meet Mingi’s, checking if he’s okay. There’s a slight mix of surprise and maybe panic in his eyes as he looks back to Yunho.  

“Yun–”, he swallows hard, “she doesn’t have to, I can–” 

Yunho quiets his friend with just a simple shake of his head. ‘No’. 

“Relax.” he says, gently but firmly pushing Mingi’s chest so that he rests back on his elbows on the bed, “Just enjoy it, Min…” 

Once satisfied, he turns his attention back to you, moving to sit right next to Mingi on the edge of the bed. 

“Be a good doll for him, baby. Give him your mouth.” 

“Yes, Daddy,” you say sweetly, ready to make him proud. 

Mingi shivers. He bites his lip, lifting his hips up a little to help you guide his pants and boxers off. Once uncovered, his hardening cock smacks against his lower stomach.

Oh god – he’s big too…

When he notices you staring, he looks away, the guilt so evident even if he was trying to hide it now. Your heart can’t help but ache for him; so conflicted about this whole situation, unable to stop thinking about the potential consequences he’d face if anyone found out. You could read his moral dilemma across his face like it was written on with a marker. 

Yunho seemed so confident, so sure. Maybe Mingi would play along for now, get Yunho to trust him, and then tell someone, career be damned. But could he do that to Hongjoong? Break apart the group they all loved so much? Irreversibly ruin their reputations? He was selfish. So fucking selfish. Mingi shakes his head to get the thoughts out once more tears begin to well up in his eyes. Deal with it later, he tells himself.  

Once his clothes were discarded, you try to help Mingi relax as Yunho instructed by placing soft, gentle kisses up along his thighs, his hipbone, and his lower stomach until he’s not as tense anymore. You leave a lingering kiss to his hipbone once more before moving to where you're obviously needed.

Holding his length with one hand, you kitten-lick him just under the tip, and he tenses up again, hips dipping into the mattress and hands clutching the duvet cover. To calm him again, you gingerly kiss the head of his cock. You gather all your spit and let it pool onto the tip, then you run the warm liquid down his length with your mouth.  

Mingi doesn’t move. In fact, he barely breathes. But he watches you so closely you can feel his gaze burning into you, bottom lip trapped between his teeth. 

Finally, you wrap your lips around his cock, slowly taking more and more of him in your mouth. His head falls back, slightly panting already.  

Yunho pets your hair in silent praise. “There you go, doll,” he murmurs, “let him use your throat.” 

You hum, making Mingi groan and buck his hips up ever so slightly, pressing himself deeper into the back of your mouth. He sits up a little more, overthinking whether or not he should touch you, or if he’s allowed to at all. He knew he could just… ask, but the thought of talking to Yunho was almost too much now that he knew his best friend was capable of, and had involved him directly. 

A bit unexpectedly, he decides to hold your free hand that you let rest on the bed by his leg, permission be damned. He squeezes it gently and you reward his act of courage by taking him into your throat. Mingi swears under his breath. 

“Fuck… y— she’s so good at this.” 

That praise earns you a kiss to your temple from Yunho, practically glowing from pride as he leans back again and watches. You slightly choke around his cock, and he throws his head back, groaning. Mingi’s breathing steadily gets heavier, groans becoming deeper. Your throat stings as the head of his cock abuses it over and over again, but you squeeze your eyes shut and try to ignore it as best you could. You keep going under Yunho’s watchful gaze –  always under a microscope to do well, be perfect for him, but this was another level. He needed you to be absolutely perfect for him and his friend.  

So you push your anxiety away to the best of your ability and continue.  

One of Mingi’s hands holds the back of your head, pulling you closer and deeper, and you choke, gagging slightly around his cock and your eyes instinctively well up with tears. 

“Shit, I’m sorry” he apologises, immediately letting go of your hair and letting you pull back a bit. “I’m sorry, I’m just…I'm close already,” Mingi whispers, eyes fluttering shut. 

That’s all Yunho needed to hear.

He holds you by the back of your neck and shoves you down, holding you there. You try to relax your body and your throat, but you were so unprepared for him to do that, distracted by Mingi’s apologetic words. A desperate, guttural half sob-half cough escapes you, your spit and tears wetting his lower stomach. 

“Look at him while you choke on his cock, doll.” Yunho murmurs. 

Your free hand clutches the bed as you try to look up past your lashes to see Mingi. He looked like he was close, but moreso worried about you. More noises were forced out of you, unable to hold them back as your body panicked at the intrusion down your windpipe and the lack of air in your lungs. You dig your nails into Mingi’s thigh. 

“Good doll,” Yunho murmurs, “make him cum.” 

Mingi’s groans begin to sound like borderline growls, the veins in his neck and arms prominent as he tries to keep control of himself.  Though deprived of air, you know the sooner he comes, the sooner you can breathe again. So you tighten your lips around his cock and suck hard, pressing your tongue up against it. And for a finishing touch, you swallow around him. 

With a loud groan, he finally releases down your throat. Yunho lets you pull back a little so as to not actually choke on his friend’s cum, catching the rest of it in your mouth, intermittently and lightly sucking on the head to coax more out and to help him ride it out more comfortably. 

Your jaw burns and aches.  

After a few moments, Mingi shudders and presses his hips down into the mattress, signalling to Yunho that he’s overstimulated. Yunho lets go of your hair and you fall back onto your heels, gasping, coughing, and dizzy, but he quickly grabs your chin, tapping your cheek with a finger.  

“Let me see.” And you don’t have to question what he means. You proudly open your mouth and show him that you swallowed every single drop. He hums in approval, both hands now holding your face, gently massaging your jaw and cheeks as Mingi’s breaths slowly even out. A small sigh of relief from you makes him grin, and he lets you rest your chin on his knee like a puppy tired from its day at the park.  

For a few, long and blissful moments, you let yourself relax into his touch, your jaw going slack, your eyes fluttering closed. 

Your reprieve is short lived. You could’ve done with a couple more minutes, but you force yourself to refocus once you register Yunho talking to you. He cups your cheek, and you know to look up at him.  

“Doll, get on the bed and keep your legs open for me. I'm gonna play with you.” 

You swallow around the lump in your throat, but obey all the same. “Yes, Daddy,” your voice already hoarse and feeble. You shakily rise up, avoiding eye contact with Mingi as you crawl towards the center of the bed, moving between the two men. 

Yunho gives your ass a light smack as you crawl and you jolt, but make no noise. Once positioned the way he wants you, Yunho starts planting soft kisses up your thighs, his hands keeping them spread for him. You dare to shyly glance over at Mingi for a second, only to find him already looking at you, expression unreadable.  

Yunho bites down on your inner thigh and you whimper quietly – his teeth are always a sharp reminder to pay attention solely to him. Trying to appease him, you spread your legs open farther, giving him even more room. It works. 

See what being good can do for you? 

He kisses over the bite mark he had left, licking the skin to soothe it, before moving up to lick a long swipe up through your folds. A small, acceptable noise escapes you, and Yunho repeats the action, wanting to hear it again. This time he lingers on your clit, latching onto it and sucking for a quick couple of seconds. Your hands grip the sheets beneath you.  

“Daddy's gonna prep you, doll. Get you nice and ready for Mingi… okay?” 

“Thank you, Daddy.” 

He smirks at the broken up, cracking voice coming out of your abused throat. One of his hands returns to your face, tilting it to your right. “Keep your eyes on him.” 

It wasn’t a suggestion. 

Mingi shifts his body so he’s facing you now instead of looking over his shoulder. Yunho slowly drags one finger down your folds, going back up to press on your clit. His other hand still lightly presses against your thigh, all too knowing about your habit of closing your legs. He would’ve had your legs spread open and tied up if he had invited someone else, but he hadn’t wanted to scare Mingi that badly.  

And yet, he already has. No rope necessary.  

You blush under the eye contact, watching Mingi’s eyes ashamedly move over your body, his cock slowly growing hard again. A weird sense of pride bloomed in your chest, making you have to hold back a grin. It was always a nice feeling to be desired. Your confidence grew little by little, now that you could see the impact you had on him, despite everything. Maybe he did want you. Maybe you were good after all. 

But you had other things to focus on, like when Yunho spits on your pussy, dragging the warm, clear liquid down your folds again until he pushes a long finger in. It was quickly followed by a second, each curling up into you, hitting that spongey spot without any problems or hesitation. You moan with a closed mouth, back arching slightly at the pleasure.  

You loved his hands so much. 

Mingi swallows thickly, watching closely. His gaze switches from Yunho’s hands, to your face, unsure of which one he wanted to focus on. Embarrassingly quick, Yunho’s fingers expose how wet you are, producing a soft squelching sound every time he pushes in. Remembering to keep looking at Mingi, you fully rest your head on its side on one of the pillows, meeting his eyes. This earns you a warm smile from Yunho and he kisses your inner thigh before moving to lightly lick your clit again. His fingers never relent their pace, his mouth catching droplets of your arousal as he coaxes it out. He watches you struggle to keep your eyes from rolling back and he adds another finger, making your head spin. You can’t help but whine pathetically already. 

“Good girl, almost there. Tell Mingi how badly you want Daddy to make you cum.” 

You whine again, trying to blink away the blurriness and the shyness. “M-Mingi I wa— ah–! mmm— wanna cum on Daddy’s fingers so so bad.” 

Yunho groans, smirking against your pussy. Mingi bites his lip again, his hand slowly stroking his now fully hardened cock.  

“What do you think, Min?” Yunho asks his friend, who looks at him, almost alarmed. “Should we let her cum before you give her your cock?” 

A violent shudder barrages through Mingi. “Yes…” he whispers. 

“Yes, what?” Yunho presses. Mingi seems to be stuck – embarrassed, conflicted and turned on all at once. In the meantime, you cry out, legs shaking, and silently beg him to answer. 

Say something.  

Luckily, he grants your wish.  

“Yes sir, I… I want you to make her cum before I give her my cock.” 

Yunho’s smirk is devilish.  “Say please, princess.” 

Mingi endures another shiver through his body.  

“Please?” 

Yunho hums, amused. “Of course.” 

And with that, Yunho’s mouth latches onto your clit and he laps at it and sucks on it hard. Your back arches off of the bed, and Mingi turns blurry in your hazy vision.  “Daddy–!” you moan loudly.  

Yunho doesn’t respond, only pressing his fingers deeper and curling them quicker. Mingi groans quietly, but is drowned out by your noises and the loud squelching. The familiar dull burn in your stomach overheats, unravelling you from the inside out, and your legs shake as it washes over you in strong waves. As your loud whines and cries of pleasure begin to quieten, you don’t forget your rules. 

“Tha—ank you D-Daddy.” 

In lieu of a verbal reply, Yunho simply kisses your clit. He then slowly removes his fingers from your core, and your body relaxes again, still shaking from the aftershocks. You close your eyes only for five seconds, but when you open them again, Yunho has his fingers stuffed in Mingi’s mouth. 

Mingi chokes a little but doesn’t try to move away from his friend. Yunho’s eyes are fixed on Mingi’s mouth, unblinking. “Tastes good, right?” he says quietly, knowing the answer but needing to hear the validation to come from Mingi’s own mouth. 

Mingi nods, closing his lips around Yunho’s fingers and moaning deeply. The acceptance he shows Yunho in that moment is nearly enough to send him into a euphoric state. Barely giving his friend time to enjoy the taste of you fully, he pulls his hand away and shoves Mingi towards you. 

“Min, lay down,” Yunho says darkly, “Doll. Ride him.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” You quickly move into position. 

Once you switch positions, him taking your spot and you straddling his hips, Yunho’s hands from behind you help center you over Mingi’s dick. Mingi rests his hands on your thighs for now, slightly gripping them in anticipation. You take a deep breath while you still can and experiment with barely touching the velvet head of his cock to your entrance. Mingi’s hands grip your thighs a little tighter, his face slightly scrunched as he watches. Yunho’s a bit more impatient, pushing you down so the head is now sheathed inside of you. A small surprised gasp escapes you and your pussy flutters around his length so far, quickly getting accustomed to it.  

Inch by inch, Yunho helps you down until you're fully seated on Mingi’s lap, almost crying from how thick he is, stretching you out perfectly. Your legs shake from the pressure of him inside of you.  

Mingi’s eyes nearly roll back in his head, his grip on you now bruising. “Fuck—! Ah fuck… she took all of it…” 

You sit still for a few moments, both for his sake and for yours. You watch his eyes struggle to open or focus, just concentrating on his breathing for now. As he takes his time to adjust, Yunho guides your face to the side.  

To kiss you. 

Your heart goes off like fireworks.  

“You look so pretty like this, doll. Fuck… making me so proud.” he praises against your lips. You hum happily. 

“Anything for you, Daddy.” 

He smiles at this, “That's my good girl,” And he kisses you again, his hands on your hips starting to ever so slightly move you up and down Mingi’s cock.  

“Give yourself to him,” he whispers. You whimper quietly into Yunho’s mouth, still getting used to feeling every inch of Mingi inside you. Or rather, the feeling of anyone other than Yunho, whom you had grown so accustomed to. 

A deep groan leaves Mingi’s throat and his eyes flutter open. The sight in front of him overwhelms his senses, and he has to quickly look away again. Yunho’s fingers absentmindedly play with the little white lace garter belt around your thigh as he kisses you deeply, his other hand still helping you move on Mingi’s cock. You whimper after being lifted up more than halfway and dropped back down and Yunho kisses your cheek and temple.  

“Is he making you feel good, baby?” 

You're lifted and dropped once again before you can answer,  “Yes, Daddy, thank you~” 

“Mmm,” he hums, “say ‘thank you’ to Mingi too.” 

At the sound of his name, Mingi raises his hips up slightly as you drop down again, and you press your lips together in a tight line to stop from making too much noise. Yunho smirks, loving that his friend was getting a bit more bold and confident. 

“Thank you, Mingi…”  

He groans in response, shuddering. “Feels so good… so tight and wet… fuckin’ perfect.” 

Perfect. 

The word lodges itself in the front of your mind like a bullet. He said you were being perfect for him. You almost stop moving on him for a second, something like happiness spreading through your chest. Until you meet Yunho’s eyes again. You can tell what he’s thinking just by looking at him now – or more accurately, some of the time. But you can read him now: you’ve not been perfect until I say so. Keep going.

Now it’s your turn to blush. So stupid. Of course Yunho had final say. You shouldn’t have automatically assumed Mingi saying it would be the end all be all ruling. 

Stupid stupid stupid. Focus. 

Yunho kisses your cheek before he lets you turn back to face Mingi, and the sight of him makes you clench, making the poor boy almost bang his head against the headboard as it rolls back. How did he already look so fucked out? The visual of his toned chest and abs that glistened with a thin layer of sweat, his face flushed, and his hands flexing on your thighs all combined turned you on even more.  

It’s clear that he’s close to losing his self control, raising his hips up to meet yours once, twice, three times. 

“Fuck, Yun.” He grunts. “She’s taking me so well.” 

Yunho responds with a lazy hum, solely focused on you.  

“Come on, baby,” he whispers to you, “be a good present and ride him.” 

You shiver at his words, “Yes, Daddy.” 

You place your hands on Mingi’s chest to stabilize yourself and make brief eye contact with him, silently assessing if the other is okay to continue.  

And then you start. 

Yunho’s hands fall away and he leans up against the headboard next to Mingi, eyes never leaving your body. Your thighs already begin to ache since he’s so big you have to really straighten up to pull halfway off, but you ignore the uncomfortable feeling. Mingi’s eyes cloud over, yet you can still see the storm underneath. His hands move around to the backs of your thighs and he helps you lift up each time, easing some of the strain you had already begun to feel.  

After a while, your body now used to the feeling of him, you speed up. Mingi bites his lip again to keep his self control intact for as long as possible. Part of you was grateful he was holding back, and another part of you wanted to see what he would do. But you can barely concentrate on anything else but the feeling of his cock fucking up into you. And, embarrassingly quickly, that dull burn in your lower stomach starts to overheat again.  

You cry out pathetically loud when Mingi pulls you all the way down and keeps you there, his cock buried to the hilt inside you, just forcing you to feel him fully. Your legs shake as you clench around his length. Yunho plays with Mingi’s hair, enjoying every second.  

“Such a good boy,” he whispers into his friend’s ear, making him shiver, “knew you would fuck her well.” 

Mingi makes a small noise, dragging you back and forth with his full length still inside you. 

“She– she’s close, Yun,” he manages out, never breaking eye contact with you. “I can feel it.”

Before you hear his response, you ready yourself for Yunho to say that you're not allowed to cum yet, steeling yourself for the inevitable. 

“Already?” he smirks, and you blush profusely. He then sits up and leans forward, towards you. Of course, Mingi chooses this moment to lift you up and force you all the way down again, this time not stopping, repeating it over and over. You yelp and your hands move to his, and one to his hip in a pathetic attempt to slow him down.  

Yunho hums. 

“Okay, doll… you can cum.” 

At first you think you didn’t hear him right, but Mingi gets a new wind it seems, holding your hips still and fervently fucking up into you, chasing that morbid curiosity of how you’d feel coming around him.  

Your voice cracks as you cry and whine, the pleasure only building and building.  

He’s so big… 

How lucky are you? 

You fall forward just a little, stabilising yourself by holding onto Mingi’s shoulders and he slams you down again. Then he surprises you.

He stops.

“Ride me. Make yourself cum.” he speaks hurriedly as his hands fall away, grinding up into you only slightly. 

Quickly, afraid to lose the high that’s building, you straighten up again and bounce on his cock as best you can. 

Yunho is quick to devour your moans and whimpers, leaning forward again to kiss you deeply. Mingi, not to be left out, sits up on his elbows, and latches his soft, plush lips onto one of your nipples. Your body shakes and you feel yourself getting even wetter, the sounds of his cock hitting your g-spot louder with every thrust.  

“Gonna cum, doll? Hm?” Yunho murmurs against your lips. You nod quickly.  

“Y-yes, Daddy,” you reply, exhaling the words. He hums to himself again before pulling back just a little to watch.  

Then, he presses his godlike fingers against your clit, rubbing it in tight circles. You let out a particularly loud moan, thanking him through your cries of pleasure. Soon, the stimulus of everything came to a head. You dig your nails into Mingi’s shoulders and slam yourself down fully onto his cock. You want it just as bad now. He groans as your walls flutter and spasm around him, trying with all his strength to keep himself calm and steady. You swallow and fight to keep your eyes open, looking to Yunho as soon as the peak of your orgasm subsides.  

“Th-tha—thank y-you, Daddy.” Conditioned, and in a timely manner. 

He just hums in response, moving a lock of your hair back behind your ear. 

No sooner had your orgasm faded, you were lifted off and placed on your back on the bed again, taking Yunho’s spot. “Keep taking him, doll.” He says, his gentle nature gone in an instant. It’s only then that you register that Mingi hadn’t cum yet.  

And what can a doll do other than obey and please?

“Fuck…” Mingi groans as he repositions himself above you, moving your legs up onto his shoulders.  

Once he reenters your pussy, your head falls back against the pillows and he presses your legs down towards your chest. Your eyes widen and your mouth drops open as he suddenly feels even deeper than he did before. The head of his cock presses against your cervix just like Yunho’s does in this position. The fire in your lower stomach begins to spark. 

He starts slow at first, again looking at you carefully to gauge your reaction. With doe eyes, you look up at him with the full intention of driving him crazy.  

It works.

“Hold your legs for me, please.” he says, and you immediately obey. He was so polite.  

Stabilizing himself with his hands on either side of you, he begins to languidly roll his hips into yours.

He’s so deep.  

So so deep…

He moans, slipping his thumb into your mouth to quiet you down. 

“I know I am… fuck you feel so good.” 

Oh. 

You must’ve said it out loud. 

Your face burns red once again and you look for Yunho’s reaction to you speaking without being spoken to, but he doesn’t seem to mind, letting it go.  

At least for now. 

You suck on Mingi’s thumb, moreso to try to calm down and focus on that as he picks up speed. Every time he thrusts into you, a small noise leaves your throat and you can’t stop it. Gradually, his hips slam into yours harder and harder. You look up at him again and he swears under his breath, shaking his head as if to get the image of you out of it.  

“Fuck, don’t look at me like that…” he whispers shakily. You whine and he has to look away, biting his lip and closing his eyes. Yunho is silent as he watches, not even touching himself or anything. Just enjoying the view, relaxed and leaning on the bed with one hand.  

All is bearable for a fleeting moment until Mingi leans back slightly, and when he starts to move, you can’t stop moaning. Like this, his cock constantly presses against your g-spot, reigniting the fire in your lower stomach almost instantly. And to make matters worse, he presses his thumb against your clit. You dig your nails into the backs of your thighs, no doubt leaving crescent shaped bruises there, but you can’t bring yourself to care. Your legs already start to shake again, and he’s barely started in this position.  

Yunho’s expression is unreadable, which makes you nervous.  

It’s just. Blank. 

Like he’s deep in thought.  

Mingi suddenly tears your attention from the older man by borderline growling as he rolls his hips sinfully well into yours. Your pussy throbs and still tries to accommodate his size. He’s so thick, you can feel every vein and inch, and he knows exactly how to use it. Your legs shake more prominently after he sensually rolls up into you one more time, and then switches the angle again without warning, leaning over you and then slamming down into you. You cry out, letting go of your legs in surprise. Mingi takes that opportunity to hold your wrists down above your head, continuing his brutal thrusts.  

Yunho’s hand had absentmindedly moved to his lap, palming the bulge that had begun to form there underneath his pants. His eyes flick up to look at you, only to find that you're already looking at him. His shoulders relax a little and he grins lazily, moving closer to hold your leg slightly more open by the back of your knee so he could have an unobstructed view.  

“Daddy..” you whimper quietly, pouting like you're about to cry from the pleasure (which is accurate). Yunho hums, acknowledging you but keeps his eyes locked on where Mingi and you connect.  

You don’t try to call for him again. He heard you. He knows.

Mingi swears again, unsuccessfully trying to keep his groans quiet. And while Yunho doesn’t talk to you right now, he leans in to whisper something in Mingi’s ear. Something that makes Mingi choke. His rhythm falters for a second before he gradually slows down. He doesn’t stop, but the change in pace is drastic and obvious. You swallow dryly. One of Mingi’s hands drags down your body, his eyes following its path.  

He slows down a little bit more, now barely moving, and he lets a wad of spit fall from his mouth, directly onto your clit, which he rubs with his thumb. 

Your back arches but he keeps you down with his other hand, still pinning you by the wrists. He spits again, and it doesn’t take long to find out why.  

Mingi presses two long fingers against your already stuffed hole, pushing next to his cock to stretch you out even more. You claw at his wrist, biting your lip hard enough to draw blood. The pleasurable pressure is enough to make your eyes roll back, especially when he thrusts experimentally once his two fingers were fully sheathed inside of you. 

“God…” Mingi exhales, needing to tilt his head back a little to breathe properly. You whimper, looking at Yunho, tears building up in your eyes.  

Still, he says nothing to you, just kisses the side of your knee to let you know he hears you. 

Somewhat quickly, the stretch becomes manageable, just heightening the already good sensations you were feeling before. However, that’s before he starts curling his fingers up. And before his thrusts begin to build back up in pace. You almost sit upright, crying loudly. He lets go of your wrists, his now free hand rubbing your clit and you throw your head back against the pillows. Yunho grabs your hair and forces you to look down. To watch. 

“It's not too much, right, doll? You can handle this. You can take whatever he gives you. Right?” 

You blink away tears, your whole body convulsing. Meanwhile, your heart soars because he’s talking to you again.

“Ye–AH—! Yes, D-Daddy!” 

“Watch. He's prepping you so well, isn’t he?” he muses, his tone

That key word goes completely over your head. 

‘Prepping’. 

You just nod, dumbly. Compliant. 

“Mhm, he’s s-so.. good, Daddy, thank you.” 

Yunho grabs your hand and kisses it, his touch lingering. “Good girl,” he growls. If you weren't already feeling blissful, you definitely were now. His praise made you feel like you were glowing, and you whine particularly cutely in the way he likes you to. He chuckles darkly, catching onto your intentions, his gaze moving back over to Mingi, who was deep in concentration.  

“Min?” he calls to him, innocently.  

Mingi clears his throat as a reply, too wound up to answer. Yunho’s nose scrunches the tiniest bit in contempt but ultimately lets it go. Best friend privileges.  

“Stop.” 

Your world pretty much crashes. Every sensation suddenly disappearing makes your head spin. You throb and whine, but Yunho interrupts you. 

“Be quiet, doll.” His tone is firm and dead serious. Immediately you obey. Of course you do. You just got called a good girl by him, let’s not mess this up for yourself.  

Satisfied at how quickly you followed his orders, he turns his attention back to Mingi.  

“Switch.” he says, bluntly.  

You're moved around so that you're straddling him once again, slowly sinking back down onto his cock. A little sigh of relief leaves you that luckily, no one hears as the bed shifts and creaks.  Yunho moves behind you.  

When you try to ride Mingi again, Yunho stops you, holding your hips still.  

He presses down on your upper back so your chest is flat against Mingi’s, your face buried in his shoulder and neck. Mingi’s breath is erratic and his hands flex against your hips where he holds you.  

“Are you okay?” he whispers, nervousness and guilt clearly eating him alive. You simply nod, secretly kissing his shoulder as your response. He’s quiet for a moment.  

“I'm sorry...” 

Before you can wonder what he means by that, you hear an awfully familiar sound. You clench around Mingi in fear and he tenses, his nails digging into your skin.  

All too late, you suddenly realise what’s about to happen. From behind you, Yunho smirks as he takes his belt off, making sure every small clink of metal is heard. He unceremoniously throws it to the floor and you jolt once it hits the ground with a loud CLANG! Mingi subtly holds you tighter to him when he notices your frightened body language. 

Well, at least he wasn’t going to hit you with it. 

You clutch onto Mingi’s shoulders and try to steady your breathing. Then you feel it. 

Yunho’s spit-covered tip pressing against your entrance, where Mingi is already stuffed inside. Because of the prep earlier, he manages to slip in relatively quickly, after some resistance from your already-filled hole. It’s then that it dawns on you: that’s what he told Mingi to do earlier.  

Stretch you more to prepare you to take both of them at once.  

If your nails are hurting Mingi, he doesn’t say anything. You both just stay as still as possible as Yunho gradually forces you to take him as well. Your breath catches and you choke on air at the foreign feeling. Never in your life had you done this or thought it was possible, especially with someone their size. 

Mingi tries to soothe you by massaging your thigh, whispering to you, “Are you okay? Does it hurt?” 

And for the first time in a long time, you purposefully dare to break one of Yunho’s rules. You whisper back to him so quietly, even you can barely hear yourself, “H-hurts..”

Instantly, his hands move to soothingly rub your back, trying to make you concentrate on that instead. But Yunho sighs from behind you, slowly feeding more of his length into you. 

The stretch is borderline unbearable. So painful at the moment you have to silently scream into Mingi’s shoulder. His hands move to your upper back, holding you close to him.  

“Hold onto me… I'm right here.” 

Somewhere deep in the back of your mind, something ignites again. Like an old candle that’s been set alight after years of waiting. A warm kind of feeling… something like true safety. You turn your head to look at his face, but at that moment, Yunho manages to fit his entire length inside in one smooth thrust. 

“aH—! Daddy! Ohh...” you whimper, your body simultaneously tensing and deflating, unsure of what to do with itself. Your pussy spasms uncontrollably, trying to push one or both of these intruders out. This, however, only makes Yunho press in deeper, his hips flush against yours. Mingi’s eyebrows furrow, his eyes squeezed shut.  

“Good fucking doll,” Yunho growls from deep within his chest, “taking both of us so well.” 

Both you and Mingi shudder. 

“You’re so fucking tight like this…” he muses, attempting to move but finding resistance – your walls still trying to get used to both of them. 

“I’ll have to stuff you this full more often.” Yunho laughs to himself, squeezing your ass with one large hand. You whimper into Mingi’s shoulder, holding back tears. 

Eventually, as your body begins to relax, they both slowly start to experiment with you and each other, figuring out when and how fast or slow to move. Finding their harmonious rhythm together. You're clenching your jaw so hard your teeth start to ache. You also make a mental note to remind yourself to apologise to Mingi for crying all over his shoulder. 

Soon enough, they find their rhythm: when one pushes in, the other pulls slightly out. It’s maddening. Your breaths all mingle and get heavier, they’re the only other sound apart from the quiet wet squelches coming from your core and your whimpers. 

“God…” Mingi grits his teeth, controlling himself to slow and small thrusts up into your pussy to make this at least somewhat easier for you.  

Yunho on the other hand—

While he doesn’t go nearly as fast as he usually does, it’s the slow speed and deep rolling of his hips into yours, making sure that you're taking in his full length with every thrust. You prop yourself up with your hands planted on the mattress, on either side of Mingi, just to give yourself some air. Your noises are constant and uncontrollable, but you try to keep them quiet at least. 

Yunho leans down to kiss in between your shoulder blades and you instinctively arch your back for him. He groans appreciatively, watching both his and his best friend’s cocks fucking into you with almost sadistic delight. 

“Fuck, good girl…” he sighs. 

Your stomach flips at the praise.  

Just endure. Just get through it. 

He says something to Mingi in Korean, but you don’t bother to try and translate anything. Instead, you close your eyes and try to focus on the potential reward he might give you for taking this well, and for being on your very best behaviour tonight, like he’d asked. 

Maybe he’d let you go out on the balcony for a couple minutes. Surely this would earn you that privilege. 

The thought motivates you enough. But it soon proves hard to think when Mingi suddenly wraps his arms around your upper back to hold you down, making you arch for them even more. Once again, you're pressed to Mingi’s chest, fighting for air as your hair and his skin both suffocate you. But he notices. You realize how attentive he is in that moment, as he loosens his hold on you for a brief moment to move your hair out of your face so you could breathe easier.  

You couldn’t figure him out. Then again, you couldn’t figure out his best friend for a while either. 

But you're grateful he did that because he starts to actually move instead of cautious pulses up into your core, and you need all the breath you can get as you pant and whine.  

Tears immediately start to well up and stream down your cheeks at the overwhelming pressure.  Yunho’s almost fucking you like normal, as if there isn’t a whole other person inside of you as well. There is not one second where you're not full of cock. 

Your head spins and your mind blanks out. It's like you're on fire, anywhere they touch you just heightens the pleasure. You don’t register that you're borderline screaming until Yunho covers your mouth with his hand and drags you up so that he’s right next to your ear, breaking you out of Mingi’s arms.  

“Shhh, I know, doll,” he coos, “feels so good, doesn’t it? You like being fucked by us? Like getting your cute pussy stuffed by two big cocks?” 

Your whimpering and crying is muffled by his hand as you try to answer him, so you just nod obediently.  

He chuckles darkly, driving into you particularly hard. “Fuckin’ made to take us, weren’t you?” 

You nod again, your tears wetting his hand. Mingi whimpers, and when you look down you see angry red scratch marks from his shoulders to just above his chest. 

Guilt rises in your throat when you realise as you were picked up by Yunho, you had dragged your nails down Mingi’s skin. Another thing to apologise for. 

But then, you almost don’t want to as Mingi shoves himself deeper into you, hitting your already battered cervix too. Your body shakes uncontrollably as a huge wave of pleasure builds within you. You tap Yunho’s thigh to warn him that you're close. 

“Min, she wants to cum,” he says in such a mocking demeaning tone that it makes more tears fall from your eyes, “should we let her?” 

You desperately look at Mingi, pleading with him silently. He groans, throwing his head back when you accidentally clench around the both of them again.  

“Yeah, fuck– let her cum. She's been good.” 

“She has, hasn’t she?” Yunho kisses your cheek almost lovingly, “Alright, doll. Cum for us. Cum all over our cocks.” 

Both of their thrusts increase in power and speed and you shriek from behind Yunho's hand, loud enough for it to be clearly heard. You grip his wrist for dear life and your other hand finds and holds onto one of Mingi’s. The raging fire that has been burning and building within your lower stomach finally breaks, engulfing your whole body in torturous, intensely pleasurable waves.  

You scream even louder, your body convulsing and shaking more than an orgasm has ever made you do so before. You're able to register Mingi pulling out of you surprisingly fast, quickly followed by Yunho, but you barely realise how much more wet you feel, as well as Mingi’s lap underneath you but you can’t really focus on that at the moment. 

Yunho takes his hand away from your mouth and you gasp for air, screaming and crying all at once, desperate for this intense orgasm to be over quicker. Mingi taps the head of his cock against your clit and you are so dangerously close to swearing as it reignites another powerful wave of pleasure. He groans loudly, and lifts you up enough to easily slip his cock back into you, this time gliding his full length into you again. You cry at the overstimulation, but he doesn’t move. He simply just lets your pussy clench and spasm around him as it needs to. 

Just trying to help.  

Yunho eventually lets you go limp in his arms, and carefully guides you to lie back down on Mingi so you can let this orgasm pass. Mingi wraps his arms around you again to ground you to him, rubbing your back again, murmuring soft praises.  

You're not sure how much time goes by, but to you, a minute seemed like hours. In reality, it was probably only a couple seconds of relative peace before Yunho spoke again.  

“Oh, doll… you shouldn’t have done that.” 

Your body instantly goes into fight or flight mode and you sit up a little, wincing at the slight pain of overstimulation, feeling Mingi’s cock throb inside of you as you turn your head to look at Yunho.   

“Daddy?” your voice breaks, eyes wide in fear. Mingi notices, looking between you and Yunho, but Yunho just laughs quietly, squeezing your ass again.  

“Didn’t know you could squirt, doll.” 

Your face flushes a violent red and you look down, only to find both you and Mingi’s lower stomachs glistening wet, and his cock and your pussy completely drenched and still dripping.  

To be honest, you didn’t know you could either. 

Yunho grabs you by the hair, pulling your head back, “You haven’t squirted with me before,” he notes, “should I be jealous?” 

You quickly shake your head ‘no’, launching into damage control. “N-no, Daddy– it’s just–” 

“You just like Mingi’s cock that much? Hm?” He interrupts you easily, his tone flat like he knows you’re lying. Before you can filter the thought or think in general you blurt out, “Both, Daddy, I like both of your cocks.” 

In the brief but tense silence that follows, only your quiet sobs fill the air. You’re horrified. You told him the truth. 

Mingi holds his breath beneath you, his eyes flicking between you and his best friend.  

Yunho laughs. 

“Aww, you hear that, Min? She likes you.” 

Mingi blushes but remains silent, tracing soft and slow circles on your hips. 

“Well,” Yunho says, “go on, Min. Don’t stop until she squirts again.” He releases your hair and you rush to catch yourself before face-planting onto Mingi. He moves next to him, resting his back against the headboard with a foot planted on the mattress, and one hand lazily stroking his cock.  

“Keep your eyes on me, doll.” 

You don’t even have time to appreciate the sight of how gorgeous Yunho looks because Mingi shoves you down so you take his full length again and suddenly there aren’t any thoughts about anything anymore. Only the feeling of a brand new, thick cock filling you up, taking his time with you.  

He rocks you back and forth, his head thrown back against the pillows and his throat releasing strangled groans.  

“So good…” he mutters under his breath.  

You moan at the praise, the pleasure he’s giving you shooting up your spine.  

And then, “Fuck her harder.” Ah. Yunho.

Mingi falters a little, once again caught between a rock and a hard place (no pun intended). He looks up at you, trying to read your expression. Trying to see if you could handle it. But you both knew you didn’t have a choice here. 

“Yun, maybe we should–” he says, trying to buy more time for you. But Yunho isn’t having it. He grabs Mingi’s hair, pulling it, effectively shutting him up.  

“Make her take your cock.” he says through gritted teeth, “All of it. Every fucking inch. Fuck. Her. Harder.” 

You shudder, digging your nails into your palms, awaiting the torturous pleasure that Yunho had instructed Mingi to give you. And obediently, he does. Mingi grunts and tightens his grip on your waist, lifting you up and slamming you back down like you're just a toy. 

A doll. 

You scream, your whole body set alight, and to make matters worse, he reaches forward and rubs your clit with his thumb. Now that’s just cheating. You want to scream; the warm, wet fire burning in your lower stomach begging to be extinguished. Your legs shake because of the force of his movements, and when he gently smacks your clit, you know you're done for. And soon. 

He swears again as he feels you clench around him, tighter than before. “Yun, she’s close,” he warns through gritted teeth.  

Yunho smirks, knowingly. “Already, doll? Need to cum again?” 

“Yes! Daddy, please…” 

He leans forward slightly to smack your ass and you yelp, causing a couple tears to escape your eyes. “Still such good manners for me. Good girl... you’re making Daddy so proud.” 

You manage a small proud smile and he gives you his fingers to suck on, which makes your heart soar. He knows you so well. Plus, it means you’re behaving. He wouldn’t give it to you unless you were being good. 

“Cum on his cock, doll. Make a mess.” 

The obscenely wet sounds coming from your pussy make you blush, but to be honest you can’t even think about that right now, as Mingi drills up into you. “Come on…” he urges quietly, “need to feel you fall apart around me… I’ve got you.” Mingi pants, his voice strained with pleasure.  

Your mind whites out and you drool all over Yunho’s fingers as you squirt again. Yunho knows your body so well… knows exactly what you need to cum again. Your heart skips for him, watching him watch you ride out your orgasm. The one he orchestrated for you to have. His name drips from your tongue like honey. 

Instead of pulling out, Mingi just stays still for a couple seconds, pressed fully inside… and then pulls out all at once. Your release splashes all over his cock and you can’t hold yourself upright anymore. Yunho and Mingi both catch you from falling. 

Both guide you towards themselves.  

You've become so dizzy and tired, you just flop down between the two men, curling your body into a protective ball. Your ears ring as your orgasm subsides but you hear Mingi whimpering still. With waning energy, you turn to look at him. 

He squeezes his cock at the base, his rings glinting in the dim lighting of the bedroom. His eyes are shut tight and his mouth is open slightly, but he bites his lip as he tosses his head back. “Fuckkkk…” he groans, chest heaving as he fights against his own body.  

Yunho kisses your cheek. 

“Look what you’ve done to him,” he accuses playfully, “he’s trying so hard to be a good little princess and not cum yet.” 

You look back towards Mingi, who is already looking at you, eyes dark and breath heavy. Yunho sighs as he runs a hand up your thigh. 

“Let's give the princess a break, doll. I wanna play with you too.” 

He shifts over your body, and you sniffle as you look down. As it now always does when faced with Yunho’s cock, your pussy throbbed at the sight of it. Just like Mingi’s had, his cock slips inside of you easily because of how wet you are. He groans quietly, taking his time to feel you wrapped around him.  

“Still so tight...” he admires, gently gliding in and out of your pussy. 

Your nails dig into his biceps, but he (thankfully) doesn’t mind. His hair hangs slightly over his eyes, but you can tell he’s looking at you, so you pout up at him, flashing your doe eyes for him that he likes. He rewards you with a deep kiss that you smile into, and a slow, rolling thrust deep into you. You moan into his mouth and your legs wrap around his waist. His movements are fluid and lazy, unlike the usual rough and hard ones you're used to from him. Making sure every single inch of him is felt. Your breath quickens after a few more slow rolls like this, the same overwhelming feeling building up once again. And he’s so attuned to you that he knows.  

“Cum for me, doll. Wanna see you soak my cock too.” 

Your back arches at his words and before you know it, the coil in your stomach snaps. And you do what you do best: obey him.  

He groans happily, making your pussy fight off his cock for a couple seconds before pulling out and watching you squirt again. 

But for him this time.  

You choke on your spit and moan gutturally, body covered in sweat and your own juices. Yunho drags the length of his cock up and down your folds, tapping the head of it against your clit to evoke more out of you. Your body twitches and your eyes roll back, your whole body vibrating and twitching.  

His eyes flick over to Mingi and his jaw ticks ever so slightly as he stares down his best friend.  Still maintaining eye contact, Yunho shifts back a little bit and raises your hips up to meet his mouth. And once his mouth is on your clit, you almost lose it. He looks back at you for a second, but keeps his eyes on Mingi for the rest of the time, who swallows nervously.  

Yunho sucks on and laps at your clit until you're crying (which doesn’t take long), and then adds two fingers into the mix, curling them deep inside you, pressing on that spongey spot that he knows the location of all too well. 

Without a word, he makes you cum hard for him again, squirting into his mouth, soaking the lower half of his face and his fingers. You gasp for air as your head swims and your vision blurs, and he graciously holds your hand to help ground you again as you come down from the high.  

Finally, he looks back at you and softly licks your folds and your clit, cleaning you up and kissing your inner thigh before moving back up to kiss you. He tastes like you and you melt.  

After a few moments, he breaks away, kissing your forehead. 

“My good girl,” he breathes, and you melt even more for him. “Think you can help Mingi cum too? He’s been so good and patient… helped you cum so many times already.” 

You whimper, not wanting to be selfish, but also really not wanting to cum again. Yunho seems to understand your dilemma. He kisses you again, reassuring you. 

“Just help him, doll,” he whispers, “let him use you one more time.” 

You shiver, nodding in surrender. Obey, obey. 

Yunho moves off of you, gesturing for Mingi to take his place. You follow Yunho with your eyes, not wanting to look away from him for a second. Mingi taps the head of his cock on your clit once again and you jolt. All too easily, he slips inside again.  

Something deeply hot in your stomach ignites as his length presses against your cervix again. This time you know what it is, and you’re desperate to keep it at bay.  

Yunho holds your hand, squeezing it and kissing your knuckles as Mingi starts fucking into you again. Once again, Yunho doesn’t look away from Mingi. But you can’t tell what he’s thinking at all. You whimper from the painful pleasure and try to focus on anything else. Mingi grunts, his grip on your waist almost bruising.  

“I’m– I'm close, don’t worry…” he says softly. You nod, relief flooding through you. “Yun, where– fuck– where can I…” he stutters, fucking you a little harder. Yunho considers it for longer than Mingi would like, considering he was about to cum any second. 

“Anywhere but inside her.” 

It's final. It’s fair. 

Mingi nods, biting his lip again. His thrusts turn sharp and erratic, signalling that he was right there. You clench around him as tight as you can and run your hand through his hair, pulling slightly at the roots. 

And that’s all it takes. 

He swears loudly and pulls out just in time; rather boldly, he chooses to cum on your pussy and just above your clit. Yunho’s jaw ticks again but doesn’t say or do anything. It was obvious Mingi was really testing his limits and privileges when it came to you with Yunho, much to your dismay. 

You don’t know what he’s capable of. 

But once it’s clear Yunho doesn’t intend on raising hell upon either of you, you allow your body to relax. You welcome the emptiness gladly, thankful for a slight break. Mingi collapses next to you to catch his breath. You look over to Yunho, mentally preparing yourself to take him again, and you summon the energy to reach for him. 

Instead, he catches your wrist and stops you. The rejection hits you like a brick. He must have seen the fear in your expression because he brings your hand up to his lips and kisses your knuckles to reassure you.  

“I’ll fill you up later, doll.” he says, simply.  

You try to make more of an effort, in case this was a test, struggling against his grip only for him to dig his nails into your wrist as a warning. 

“No.” 

The way he said it cuts through you like a machete. It’s so final you want to curl up into yourself and cry. Telling you off like a misbehaving puppy.  

“Did I do something wrong, Daddy?” you ask, meekly, afraid of the answer. He pauses as he looks at you. And just as you're about to start panicking, he smiles like nothing was wrong in the first place. 

“Not at all, baby. We should just focus on our birthday boy for now.” 

Mingi perks up when he’s indirectly mentioned.  

“Why don’t you start cleaning him up, baby, and I'll go grab a towel. Okay?” Yunho strokes your cheek.  

“Okay, Daddy.” you hum, looking up at him, dreamily.  He loved to see the blissful foggy haze that settled over your eyes after he fucked you. 

Yunho holds eye contact for a second or two longer before tearing himself away, getting up to fetch a towel from the bathroom.  

Once he stands up, you’re already following his orders. You manage to get yourself up and shift down the bed, placing your mouth back on Mingi’s cock. He winces from overstimulation, but lets you continue. One of his hands cups your cheek, his fingers in your hair and you temporarily allow yourself to melt into his touch. It was both weird and nice to feel someone else’s touch after so long. You almost hated yourself for thinking that, but it was true. Change can sometimes be good, as long as you know who you belong to.  

You wrap your mouth around the head of his cock and suck very lightly, just trying to clean him, and he struggles to keep a groan inside. Mingi drapes an arm over his eyes, tightening his fist whenever a shock of pleasure travelled up his spine. 

Moments later, Yunho comes back, fluffy towel in hand. He gently guides you off of his friend and puts the warm towel in your hand to clean off his lower stomach and thighs. Mingi’s eyes flutter shut, almost growing heavy. Once you deem him clean, you look up at Yunho, obediently awaiting further instructions. He takes the towel from you and cups your jaw, tilting your head up a little more. 

“Good girl,” he murmurs, lips just centimetres from yours.  

And he kisses you again. You sigh happily, as he reaches between your legs to dab the towel over your pussy, where Mingi had came. You wince a little when the towel brushes against your swollen clit, a dull pain throbbing there. But Yunho keeps your legs open, making sure he gets every drop off of you. 

Unbeknownst to you, Yunho was staring Mingi down the whole time.  

Once he’s satisfied, he lays you back down and your eyes immediately close. 

Through your sleepiness, you hear the two men converse together in quiet Korean for a few moments before you turn your brain off. You didn’t need to know.  

· · ─────── ·𖥸· ─────── · ·

You dream of water, much like you did during your first time with Yunho, not enjoying the dryness and roughness in your throat from making so much noise.  

You don’t realise you're sleeping, still kind of half-conscious but when you wake up again, you're being held by Mingi and Yunho is gone from the room. You also notice that he had put his pants back on while you were asleep. 

You lift your head up slightly to look for Yunho. 

“Daddy?” your voice cracks. Mingi gently guides you to rest your head on his chest again. 

“He’s getting us something to eat, don’t worry," he murmurs, rubbing your back to soothe your anxiety. You let out a quiet “oh” and try to relax again, but you're noticeably more tense.  

Did Yunho allow Mingi to hold you like this before he left? Or did Mingi do this after he left? 

Perhaps the most important question was why the hell did Yunho leave you two alone? That had to be the biggest display of trust you’ve ever seen from him. But again, you understood it. Mingi couldn’t tell anyone without perjuring himself as well. Even more so now that he had slept with you. He was stuck, just like you. 

You bit your lip, wanting nothing more than to go back to sleep, but unsure what kind of Yunho you would wake up to if he saw you two like this. You wanted to trust him as much as Yunho did, but he was a stranger to you.  

Luckily, as if he’d been reading your mind, Mingi puts it at ease. “Yun suggested it,” he says quietly, “said that I should hold you while he’s gone.” 

Today was more and more confusing by the minute.  

Yunho always had a reason for everything he did, so there must be an underlying motive behind his behavior and actions today. But you also knew as a doll, it wasn’t your job to worry about it or figure it out. So you sigh into Mingi’s chest, his heartbeat in your ear.  

He swallows nervously, “I’m–" he stops himself for a moment before continuing, “I’m so sorry.” 

You almost stop breathing, looking back up at him.  

‘Sorry’? 

He doesn't elaborate further. He'd be lying if he didn't see the multiple bruises that had yet to fade on your skin, miscellaneous injuries that had healed or scarred over from whatever Yunho had put you through. Whatever he did to make you like this. Unfortunately, he had a good idea of what he might've done when he saw a short, healed cut along your throat while you'd been sleeping in his arms.

“Does he treat you okay?” He asks without thinking. He knows what you'll say.

The doll in you wants to instantly say yes… yet that tiny, feeble voice in the back of your mind that he had unknowingly coaxed out of hiding earlier wanted to say otherwise. That you were terrified. 

But everything and anything could be a Yunho test, even if he wasn’t physically in the room. So you stay safe. 

“Yes sir, when I’m good.” 

Mingi nods to himself, weighing your words. Rather bravely on your part, you speak to him first.  

“Did I ruin your birthday?” 

He’s quick to respond this time, “Oh no, not at all. It's all just… surprising. I've never seen him act like this.” 

Surprising was an understatement, he just wasn't sure how to word it without potentially offending you while in this state of mind. There’s a few more minutes of silence before he speaks again, “He asked me… if I’d like to…” he struggles with how to put it, “be involved in this.” 

Confusion swept through you. Wasn’t he already kinda involved? Or did he mean even more? All you can say is “oh.” 

He traces his fingers up and down your arm absentmindedly. 

“So I'll be, um, able to check in on you. Make sure you’re safe.” 

“I am safe,” you defend, though that annoying little voice knows it’s not true. And Mingi doesn’t deny your words. 

But he doesn’t confirm them either.  

Instead, he gladly lets the minutes tick by, letting his silence speak for him… until you ask him the question you've been wondering about all night.  

“Have you two… done this before? With other women?” 

Mingi inhales deeply, clearing his throat. 

“Yes,” he admits, “but not with someone like you. Just one-offs; bar hookups, occasional sex workers. Stuff like that.” 

‘Someone like you’. There it was again, the reminder of the forbidden. The liability. 

You nod slowly against his chest, closing your eyes again. It explained their dynamic. It wasn’t as surprising that Yunho would ask Mingi to be an active participant in the long term. Or why he thought this would be a good birthday present for him. You scrunch your nose, jealously thinking of all the other girls. Mingi kisses the top of your head, still rubbing your arm to comfort you. 

You look at the red marks you had made on his skin, still irritated and vibrant in color. 

“I’m sorry about this.” You murmur, tracing one of the lines with a finger, your touch featherlight against his skin. You don’t say for what, though. Perhaps you meant just the scratches…perhaps you meant for something bigger than that. Mingi doesn’t respond. He just continues to hold you close, like he can protect you now, and zones out, staring blankly at nothing. 

After a while, breaking himself out of his stupor, with his free hand, he reaches for his phone in his pants pocket, pulling it out to check the time as well as Yunho’s location.  

“He’s almost home,” he notes, and he sighs before sitting up, swinging his legs off the side of the bed. You manage to sit up slowly, looking around for your clothes on the floor only to find nothing there. 

Huh… 

Mingi looks over his shoulder, watching you look at the floor. He knows what you're looking for. He doesn’t say anything. You don’t ask.  

Something told you that now that Mingi was added into this, you wouldn’t be needing clothes for a while. And Yunho had said he’d take care of you ‘later’. You swallow thickly and shakily stand up, letting the matter go entirely.  

Mingi holds your hand and brings you out to the kitchen, sitting you down at the dining table just as you hear the key code being punched into the electronic lock. Yunho enters holding two takeout bags, and chuckles when he sees you two.  

“Hm. Cute,” he says simply, bringing the food over to the table and setting it down in the middle.  You eat silently as the two of them eat and talk, mostly in Korean, looking up when they laugh or say something in English.  

You also down your glass of water in one go. 

As the conversation winds down and they clear their plates, on shaky legs, you get up to clear the table without needing to be asked, but Yunho stops you as you take his, grabbing your wrist firmly.  

“Show me,” his eyes cast down towards your plate. He hadn't asked to see in a while. But you obey, tilting your plate towards him, proving that you ate everything. He nods once and gently guides your face down to his. 

“Good,” he says before he kisses you softly. When he lets you straighten up, you try to make your way to the sink again, but he stops you once more.  

“Don't be rude, doll. Give Mingi a kiss too.” 

Mingi’s ears turn red and he starts to explain that you don’t have to but Yunho levels him with just his eyes. He stops talking quickly. Smart. He’s learning quick. 

You step closer to him and he pulls you in the rest of the way, slowly guiding you down with one hand on the back of your neck, the other holding your cheek. His lips are just as soft as Yunho's, just a bit more plush. You hate yourself for thinking that you wouldn’t mind kissing him again, but then again, you had to get used to him being around more often. Perhaps it wouldn’t be such a sin to like kissing him as well. 

He pulls away first, your lips barely touching for a split second, and then he lets you go like nothing happened.  

Your head spins as you walk to the sink.  

You wash the dishes in dizzy, hazy thought as the two of them continue to talk behind you. Something is wrong. In your gut you know something has been wrong for a while tonight. Ever since you saw Yunho’s strange expression, the way he was acting, you just knew. You wracked your brain for any point in which you disobeyed him or disappointed him in any way, but came up short. You were perfect… right? Like he needed you to be?  

As you're drying the last dish, your head nearly feels empty from thinking so hard. You set the plates safely back into the cupboard and past the loud clinking of the porcelain, you don’t hear one of them walking up behind you. 

You do feel who it is though.  

His hands glide up your sides, softly massaging your chest. You look down and see dainty, sinfully long fingers and a lack of rings.  

Yunho. 

He pins you against the counter with his body, and you just wait silently for him to decide what he wants to do. Instead, he licks a stripe up the side of your throat, making you shiver and inhale a shaky breath. 

“Don’t think I didn't notice that you didn’t greet me home properly,” he says coldly, his voice icy, “to think I was gonna reward you too…” 

You shudder, feeling helpless and pathetic against him. He was going to reward you…

“P-please Daddy, I–” 

But he claps a hand over your mouth to shut you up. 

“Honestly, baby, I thought we were past this. Guess we’ll have to show Mingi what happens when you don’t follow instructions around here,” he sighs like it’s inconvenient to him.  

You think about the balcony and your heart breaks. Fresh air was a luxury you didn’t deserve here… and a distant memory now. You bow your head in submission.  

Yunho exhales, his breath hot on your neck, and tucks a lock of your hair behind your ear. “I'm gonna get his cake from the fridge. Once he blows the candles out, your correction will start. Understand?” 

You nod, tears falling onto his hand that still covers your mouth.  

“Take it perfectly,” he emphasises that word in particular with an accompanying smirk, “and I'll consider still giving you a reward. Okay?” 

The balance he kept so firmly in place in this apartment remained unwavering still. What you had just endured still wasn’t good enough… your body still didn’t know how to be perfect in the way he wanted you to be. You messed up the easiest rule. The one that you thought had been second nature to you by now. The third rule. Now you have to stand another trial in order to be rewarded. You could’ve been childish and put the blame on Mingi – he had distracted you, he sat you in the chair just as the door opened, there was no time, etc. 

But you let yourself be distracted. 

You could’ve easily gotten right back up off the chair, on your knees on the floor. 

There was time. 

It was your fault. No one else’s. 

You nod slowly, desperate to show him that you want to be good, and that you will continue to be good. He removes his hand to hear you say it. 

“I’ll be perfect, Daddy. I promise.” 

A wicked smirk creeps across his face.  

“Hey, Min?” he calls over his shoulder, “you want dessert?” 

You whimper, already starting to cry again, but Yunho shushes you, reaching around and giving your pussy a light but firm smack.  

“Turn the lights off, baby.” 

“Yes, Daddy.” You move quickly over to the lightswitch, the kitchen and living room only barely illuminated by the dim light coming from the bedroom. He then goes over to open the fridge, carefully reaching in with both hands and revealing a prepared birthday cake for Mingi, and he hums a little “happy birthday” tune as he sets it down on the table.  

Your skin crawls when he sparks up the lighter from his pocket. It was the same lighter he had used the first month you were here, back when you didn’t know any better. When you had no idea what you were up against.  

You had tried to escape, not knowing about the cameras in the apartment yet. Not knowing how bad the punishments could be. He had tied you down to his bed, shaking his head in disappointment, utterly confused and heartbroken that you had tried to leave him. A pit in your stomach grew and grew as you watched him disconnect the fire alarm on the ceiling. 

And then? 

He had lit the bed on fire. 

And only put it out when you promised to never try to escape again, and when you convinced him that you wanted to be here with him. That you loved him.   

Yunho tosses the lighter carelessly onto the table. Towards you. 

In the dancing light of the fire burning the candle, Mingi looks between your vacant, haunted expression as you stare at the lighter on the table, and his best friend. You were crying, yet making no noise. Wet mascara tears stained your cheeks, your breathing rigid, shoulders shaking slightly. Yunho was carefree. Normal. 

“Happy Birthday Mingi~” he sings, pushing the cake closer to his friend, gesturing for him to blow out the candle. Mingi pauses for a split second, wanting to know why you looked so terrified. Something weighed heavy on his chest, and no matter how hard he tried to ignore it, there it stayed. He coughs awkwardly, as if maybe that’s what needed to be done, like something stuck in his lungs. But it remains. Even beginning to creep up his spine, into the back of his head, pressing him down. It tasted like guilt. Like impending horror. 

His eyes flicker over to you, still disconnected. Like you had been deactivated all of a sudden, your eyes glistening in the candlelight. Yunho, getting a little impatient, gestures to the burning candle. With one last look towards you, he takes a deep breath and makes his wish, unable to stop thinking that maybe he’d just made a deal with the devil as he blows out the candle, plunging all three of you back into the dark.

he tried.

he really, really tried to be gentle with you tonight.

yunho had started off slow—sweet kisses, soft touches, letting his hands explore you like you were delicate. like you might break.

but you? you weren’t in the mood to be handled with care.

you’d pulled at his hair, whined about how slow he was going, rolled your hips down onto his lap with too much purpose. and when he pushed your shirt up, brushing his fingers over your ribs with reverence, you looked him dead in the eye and said:

“you gonna keep treating me like a soft baby, or you gonna fuck me already?”

something in him snapped.

his fingers stopped mid-stroke. his gaze sharpened. and the next time he touched you, it wasn’t careful.

it was commanding.

he dragged you off his lap and threw you on the bed like you were nothing but a toy he was tired of teasing.

“you’ve got a smart mouth,” he muttered, standing over you, eyes raking down your body. “i’ve been nothing but sweet to you. and you’re still acting like a fucking brat.”

you smirked, thinking it was a game.

but when he grabbed your jaw and made you look up at him, there was no sweetness left in his expression.

“you wanna get used?” he asked, tone dark and dangerous. “you wanna see what i’m like when i stop pretending to be nice?”

your breath caught.

“get on your knees.”

you obeyed. fast. something about his voice left no room for hesitation.

you settled between his legs, hands resting on your thighs, chest rising with anticipation. he undid his belt with maddening calm, letting the leather drag through the loops. you could hear your pulse in your ears.

“open your mouth.”

you did, lips parting slowly.

yunho ran his thumb along your lower lip, then slipped it inside—watching as you instinctively wrapped your tongue around it.

“look at you,” he muttered. “always so defiant until i put something in your mouth.”

he dragged his thumb out and replaced it with two fingers—deep, rough, pressing past your tongue and holding them there until your throat clenched.

“gag on it, baby,” he cooed. “show me how much you wanna choke on my cock.”

you whimpered.

he pulled his fingers out, wiped them on your cheek, then used them to tilt your face up again. “such a good little slut when you’re quiet.”

he dragged you up by your arm and bent you over the bed without warning. the tie he usually wore for work became your wrist restraint, looped behind your back and tugged taut.

“keep those hands there. move, and i stop. understood?”

“yes,” you breathed. “yes, yunho.”

he slid your panties down slow—just to admire the way you were already soaked.

“fucking dripping,” he muttered. “you’re disgusting— pathetic thing.”

you moaned.

“you like that? being called names?” he spat, pushing your legs apart with his knee. “want me to treat you like the little cockdrunk toy you are?”

“yes, fuck—please—”

you didn’t get to finish begging.

because yunho slammed into you in one unforgiving thrust.

you screamed into the sheets, body jolting forward from the force.

“that what you wanted?” he growled, grabbing your tied wrists and shoving them into the small of your back. “you wanted to be fucked like a hole? just used until you cry?”

“yes—yes—yes—”

“mm. now you’re being honest.”

he pulled out almost completely before thrusting back in, harder. faster. his hips slapping against your ass with obscene rhythm.

“feel that? how deep i am?” he grunted. “you’re so fucking small, i can feel your pussy sucking me in. greedy little thing.”

your legs shook. your body was already trembling.

and then he reached around and slapped your clit.

hard.

“don’t you dare cum,” he growled. “not until i say.”

“fuck—yunho—please—”

“you don’t get to beg, baby,” he hissed into your ear. “you lost that right the second you started acting like a brat.”

he kept thrusting. kept rubbing your clit. kept making filthy little observations between groans. “you hear how wet you are? nasty fucking sounds, baby.”

“look at that—your thighs are shaking. you gonna fall apart already?”

“what would your friends say if they saw you like this, huh? bent over and drooling for me?”

your body jolted again.

“answer me.”

“they’d—they’d say i’m a fucking mess,” you sobbed. “they’d say i’m pathetic for loving it—”

yunho groaned like it turned him on more than anything.

“pathetic little mess,” he echoed, thrusting faster. “you’re gonna cum now. do it. i want this pussy ruined.”

you exploded.

your orgasm hit like a flood, body twitching, mouth open in a silent cry, tears dripping down your cheeks as he fucked you through it.

but he didn’t stop.

not when you clenched. not when you begged. not even when your knees collapsed and your face pressed into the mattress.

“what’s the matter, angel?” he taunted, voice still sweet despite how brutal his hips were. “thought this was what you wanted?”

you sobbed. incoherent. overstimulated.

he leaned over and whispered: “i could’ve been gentle. could’ve kissed you slow, made you cum on my fingers like always. but that ain’t what you like, is it?”

you whimpered, trying to pull away.

he slapped your ass and pinned your hips down.

“nah, don’t run now. take it.”

you came again. violently. messily. your legs gave out and your body shuddered like you’d been struck by lightning.

“fuck,” yunho grunted. “you’re squirting on my cock.”

he sounded proud. “good fucking girl.”

he finally groaned when he came, deep and long, pulling your wrists up as he buried himself to the hilt. your cunt twitched around him, completely spent, wrecked, stretched beyond recognition.

you both breathed heavy.

and then—

his hand slid to your back.

gentle. soft. stroking.

“you okay, angel?”

you nodded, tears still on your cheeks, face flushed.

he kissed your temple, then untied your wrists with careful fingers.

“you were so perfect for me,” he whispered. “did so fucking well.”

you slurred something close to “thank you,” brain foggy from orgasm after orgasm.

he pulled you into his chest, kissing your shoulder. “next time,” he whispered, voice low and teasing, “maybe think twice before calling me soft.”

You’d drifted off a few minutes ago, your head pillowed on his bicep, your breaths slow and even.

Your hair was a soft mess around your face, lips slightly parted, your lashes casting faint shadows against your cheeks.

How are you this pretty?

His thumb brushed over your bare shoulder absentmindedly, careful not to wake you.

Something bloomed in his chest—warm and unfamiliar. He couldn’t name it, but it scared him in a way he wasn’t ready to unpack.

Still, he held you tighter and let his eyes finally close.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

A faint stirring beside him pulled Mingi from sleep.

You shifted slightly against his chest, and he felt your fingers splay hesitantly over his ribs.

“Morning,” he rasped, his voice still deep and rough from sleep.

“Morning.” Your voice was soft, almost shy.

You tilted your head to look at him, finding his dark eyes already watching you.

“Did you sleep okay?” he asked.

“Yeah.” You hesitated, chewing your bottom lip. Then, in a small voice:

“Do you… want to do it again?”

Mingi blinked, then let out a quiet groan, his hand covering his face for a moment.

“Baby… you can’t just say shit like that when I’m still half-asleep.”

“Sorry—”

“Don’t apologize.” He was grinning now, his hand sliding down to cup your hip. “You have no idea how badly I want to say yes.”

The nervous knot in your stomach unraveled slightly when he leaned down and kissed you—slow and deep.

“Roll over for me,” he murmured against your lips.

You blinked. “Roll over?”

His grin turned wolfish. “Trust me.”

You obeyed, lying on your stomach, your heart pounding as you felt his hands glide down your back. He pressed soft kisses along your spine before nudging your thighs apart with his knee.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he whispered as he positioned himself behind you.

When the head of his cock pressed against your entrance, you gasped.

“Relax, baby. You’re already so wet for me.”

The stretch felt different this way—deeper. His hands gripped your hips as he slid in slowly, groaning at the tightness.

“Fuck… you feel even better like this.”

You buried your face in the pillow as a breathy moan escaped you.

“That’s it,” he growled softly. “Let me hear you.”

He set a slow but firm rhythm, the sound of his hips meeting yours filling the room.

Each thrust had you gasping, your body rocking forward slightly with every deep push.

“Mingi…”

“Yeah, baby? You like this?”

“Yes—oh my god…”

When your arms gave out from the intensity, he wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you up slightly so your back pressed to his chest.

“Feel good?” he whispered in your ear.

“So good…”

When you were close, he pulled out and flipped you onto your back.

“Your turn,” he said, settling against the pillows and patting his thighs.

You blinked. “My turn?”

“I want to see you ride me, baby. Think you can do that for me?”

You straddled his hips nervously, your thighs brushing his as you settled on top of him.

Mingi’s dark eyes raked over you hungrily, his hands stroking up your sides to rest on your waist.

“God… you look so good like this,” he murmured, his voice thick with want.

Your cheeks burned. “I don’t really know what I’m doing…”

He grinned, his thumbs rubbing soothing circles against your skin.

“That’s okay. Just move how it feels good for you. I’ll help you.”

You lifted slightly, aligning him at your entrance, and sank down slowly.

The stretch made you gasp. He felt impossibly deep this way, filling you completely.

“Fuck—Y/N…” Mingi’s head tipped back, his jaw tight as he gripped your hips. “You’re so tight. So warm. Take your time, baby.”

You started to rock your hips gently, testing the motion. Sparks of pleasure bloomed in your core with each movement, your shy moans growing louder as you grew bolder.

“That’s it,” Mingi groaned, his fingers tightening slightly. “Just like that. You’re doing so good for me.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Watching you ride him was torture.

The way your hair fell into your face as you bounced shyly, the soft sounds spilling from your lips—it was too much.

“Baby…” he panted, fighting to keep his hips still beneath you. “You’re fucking perfect.”

Your hands rested on his chest for balance as you picked up your pace, your confidence growing with every roll of your hips.

“Shit—I can’t—” Mingi’s hands slid up your thighs to grip your ass, helping you move faster.

The sight of you riding him, your face flushed and lips parted in pleasure, nearly pushed him over the edge.

“You’re driving me crazy,” he growled, sitting up slightly to kiss you hungrily. “Look at you… taking me so well.”

Your walls fluttered around him as you moaned his name, and he knew you were close.

“Cum for me, Y/N. Want to feel you soak me.”

Your thighs burned as you bounced harder, Mingi’s hands guiding you, his fingers digging into your soft skin.

“God, Y/N…” he groaned, his voice raw. “You’re perfect. You’re fucking perfect.”

His eyes never left yours, dark and intense as he watched your flushed face contort with pleasure.

You gasped when his hips bucked up sharply, meeting you halfway.

The new angle had him hitting deeper, the stretch overwhelming. Your hands fisted in his chest as your moans turned into broken cries.

“M-Mingi—I’m—oh my god—”

“I know, baby.” His voice was tight, his thrusts growing faster. “I can feel you. You’re so close. Cum for me. Wanna feel you lose it.”

Your body tensed as your orgasm slammed into you, pleasure crashing over you in hot, shivering waves.

“Ah—Mingi!”

“That’s it,” he growled, his pace faltering as your walls clenched around him. “That’s my good girl. Fuck—”

With a final, deep thrust, he let out a low, guttural moan and followed you over the edge.

“Y/N—”

His hips stuttered as he spilled into the condom, his head falling back against the pillow.

For a moment, the room was filled only with your ragged breaths.

You collapsed onto his chest, trembling slightly as his arms wrapped around you.

“You okay?” he murmured against your hair.

You nodded weakly. “Yeah… just… wow.”

Mingi kissed your temple softly, his chest still heaving.

“Yeah. Wow.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“You’re glowing.”

You almost spit out your iced latte. “What?”

Jisoo smirked like she already knew the answer. “You heard me. You’re glowing. Post-good-sex glowing.”

“Jisoo—”

“Oh my god.” She slapped the table, eyes going wide. “You did it! You slept with him, didn’t you?”

You tugged your cardigan tighter, staring hard at your drink.

“Maybe.”

“Maybe? That’s not a maybe answer. Spill. Right now.”

You sighed, feeling your face heat.

“It… happened.”

“It happened? Y/N!” Jisoo’s voice went high-pitched as she grabbed your hand across the table. “Was it good? Please tell me it was good.”

“I’m not giving you details.”

“Fine. Scale of one to ten?”

“…ten.”

“Ten?!” Jisoo nearly fell out of her chair. “You’re kidding. He ruined you, didn’t he?”

“Jisoo!”

She leaned in, lowering her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “Okay. But… just once?”

You hesitated.

Her eyes narrowed like a predator. “Y/N. How many times?”

“…three.”

Jisoo clapped a hand over her mouth to muffle her shriek.

“Three?! First time ever, and you went for a damn trilogy?!”

“It wasn’t planned!” you hissed, sinking in your seat. “It just… happened.”

“Wow. Okay. So you’re basically living a romance novel now.”

“Stop.”

But Jisoo’s grin faltered slightly as she stirred her drink.

“Y/N…”

You looked up at her tone—softer now, with that edge of protectiveness you knew too well.

“You know his reputation, right? Song Mingi doesn’t… date. Like, ever. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You straightened a little, your fingers tightening around your cup.

“I’m not stupid, Jisoo. I know what this is.”

“I’m not saying you’re stupid.” She gave you a gentle smile. “I’m saying you’re soft. And I know how easy it is to confuse great sex with… more.”

“I’m not confusing anything,” you said firmly. “It’s just physical. That’s all.”

Jisoo studied you for a moment longer before nodding slowly.

“Okay. I trust you. But if he does anything even remotely asshole-ish, I’m keying his car.”

You laughed, the tension breaking. “Please don’t.”

“Fine. But I’m keeping it as a backup plan.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

It had been a week.

Seven whole days since he’d last seen you.

And Mingi was losing his mind.

He sat slouched on the couch in his apartment, his phone resting on his chest as he stared at the ceiling.

He wasn’t even watching the game on TV anymore. His thumb kept swiping across his lock screen, checking for notifications out of habit.

Nothing.

She said it was just physical, he reminded himself. That’s all it is. Don’t overthink it.

But he couldn’t help it.

Every night this week, he’d caught himself wondering what you were doing. Whether you were thinking about him.

Whether you were lying in bed the same way he was, staring at the ceiling and feeling that strange ache in your chest.

“Yo.”

Yunho’s voice snapped him out of his daze. His friend plopped down on the other end of the couch, a slice of pizza in hand.

Yeosang followed, tossing a can of soda to Mingi.

“You’ve been weird all week,” Yeosang said casually. “Something on your mind?”

“Nothing,” Mingi muttered, unlocking his phone again like the notification fairy might’ve blessed him in the last two seconds.

Yunho raised a brow. “You’ve been staring at that screen like it owes you money.”

Yeosang smirked. “It’s a girl, isn’t it?”

Mingi froze.

“Ahh, knew it.” Yunho grinned. “Who is she? You’ve been acting like a kicked puppy since Friday.”

“She’s… no one.”

Yeosang snorted. “No one? You’ve been checking your phone every five minutes. For no one?”

Mingi sighed, running a hand down his face.

“She’s just… different.”

Yunho and Yeosang exchanged knowing looks

“Ohhh,” Yunho said, drawing out the sound. “The fuckboy’s catching feelings.”

“I’m not.”

“You so are.”

Mingi groaned and sat up, typing out a message before he could overthink it.

You ghosting me, pretty?

He hit send and threw his phone on the coffee table like it was going to explode.

Yeosang laughed. “Wow. Smooth.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You weren’t expecting a message from him.

It lit up your screen as you sipped tea on the couch, and your heart stuttered when you saw the name.

Mingi: You ghosting me, pretty?

You bit your lip, trying to smother the smile tugging at your mouth.

You: Maybe I like leaving you hanging.

Mingi: Brutal.

Mingi: So… wanna hang out? I’ll bring food.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Two hours later, Mingi was sprawled on your couch with a bag of takeout between you.

“You didn’t have to bring half the menu,” you teased, unpacking boxes of dumplings, fried chicken, and noodles.

“Didn’t know what you liked. And I’m a growing boy,” he said with a grin.

You laughed, shaking your head. “You’re ridiculous.”

The food disappeared quickly between shared bites and casual conversation.

It felt… easy.

Somehow, the banter flowed without effort, and you caught yourself smiling more than once at his dumb jokes.

After dinner, you pulled out the Nintendo Switch.

“You play?”

Mingi’s grin turned mischievous. “Prepare to get wrecked.”

He didn’t wreck you.

In fact, he lost—three times.

“Didn’t you say you were good at this?” you teased, flashing him a victorious grin as your character crossed the finish line.

“Hey—I’m distracted.”

“By what? Your crushing defeat?”

“By you,” he said simply.

You blinked, caught off guard as heat rose to your cheeks.

When you looked up, he was already watching you with an intensity that made your breath catch.

“I can’t help it,” he murmured. “You’re just… cute.”

Before you could respond, he set his controller down and leaned in, his hand cupping your jaw as he kissed you softly.

The softness didn’t last long.

When your fingers curled into his hoodie and pulled him closer, Mingi groaned low in his throat.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he whispered against your lips.

You didn’t remember how you ended up in your bedroom, only the heat of his hands on your skin as clothes hit the floor.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his forehead resting against yours.

“Yes,” you breathed. “I want you.”

“Fuck,” he muttered, kissing you hard as he lowered you onto the bed.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The room was quiet now, save for your soft breaths against his chest.

Mingi’s arm draped lazily around your waist, his fingers tracing absent patterns on your bare skin.

He could still feel the rapid thud of your heartbeat where your body pressed into his.

“Are you okay?” he asked softly.

“Mhm.” Your voice was drowsy, a small smile curling your lips. “Just… relaxed.”

Relaxed.

That’s how he felt too.

But it was more than that.

There was something about this—about you curled up against him, your hair tickling his chin, the faint scent of your shampoo still lingering in the air—that felt… dangerous.

It felt right.

Mingi wasn’t used to this.

He was used to slipping out after, to avoiding attachments, to keeping things light and easy.

But right now?

He didn’t want to leave. He didn’t want to move. He didn’t want to ruin the perfect little bubble that had formed around you.

You shifted slightly, nuzzling closer into his chest with a soft sigh.

Mingi’s throat felt tight.

I could get used to this.

The thought hit him so hard he froze.

Could he?

Could he really get used to lazy nights eating takeout with you, gaming on the couch, holding you like this after?

The idea should’ve terrified him. But instead, it felt… safe.

“You’re quiet,” you murmured sleepily.

He smiled faintly and pressed a kiss to your hair.

“Just thinking,” he said.

“About?”

„Nothing really.”

He couldnt tell you his real thougts, just yet.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The sound of laughter echoed through the little Korean barbecue place, the table crowded with plates of sizzling meat and side dishes.

Mingi sat at the end of the booth, absently scrolling his phone.

He wasn’t even pretending to listen to the others anymore. His thumb hovered over the keyboard as he read your last text for the tenth time:

Y/N: That sounds like a challenge. Wanna see if you can actually beat me this time? 😉

A grin tugged at his lips before he could stop it.

“You’re doing it again,” Yunho said.

Mingi blinked up. “Huh?”

“The smiling at your phone thing,” Yunho clarified, gesturing with his chopsticks. “That’s the third time since we sat down.”

Yeosang leaned back, smirking. “Not just smiling. Grinning. Like an idiot.”

“Okay, chill,” Mingi said, flipping his phone over.

“What’s so funny?” San asked curiously.

Wooyoung’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “It’s not funny. It’s someone.”

The entire table turned to Mingi.

“Mystery girl?” Hongjoong asked casually, sipping his beer.

“What mystery girl?” Jongho chimed in, his brow raised.

“Exactly!” Wooyoung leaned across the table like he’d just discovered gold. “That’s what I’m asking. Mingi’s been acting weird.”

“I’m not acting weird.“

“Bro, you’re acting so weird,” Yeosang said flatly. “Checking your phone every five minutes. Smiling for no reason. Zoning out in the middle of games.”

San gasped theatrically. “You’ve been hit with Cupid’s arrow.”

“Cupid’s arrow? Seriously?” Mingi scoffed, shoving a piece of lettuce into his mouth

Hongjoong was watching him now with that scary leader gaze.

“So? Who is she?”

“She’s…” Mingi hesitated, fiddling with his chopsticks. “No one.”

“No one?” Yunho repeated, grinning like a shark. “Your face says otherwise.”

Yeosang drummed his fingers on the table. “He’s hiding her. Which means…”

“Which means he actually likes her,” Wooyoung finished with a gasp.

Mingi groaned. “It’s not like that.”

“Then what’s it like?” Jongho asked calmly.

“It’s…” Mingi trailed off, staring down at his plate.

It wasn’t like him to open up, but the words slipped out before he could stop them.

“I don’t know. She’s different. When we’re together, it’s… easy. Like I don’t have to think about anything. And when we’re not…”

He rubbed the back of his neck.

“I keep thinking about her.”

The table went quiet for a split second.

Then Yunho slapped the table, sending the soy sauce bottle rattling.

“YOU’RE IN LOVE!”

“What?! No—”

“Yes! That’s literally what love sounds like!” Yeosang pointed accusingly.

Wooyoung leaned in dramatically. “The fuckboy has fallen. Somebody call the press.”

“I’m not in love,” Mingi said firmly, though his ears burned hot.

“Sure you’re not.” Hongjoong smirked knowingly. “That’s why you’re smiling like a dork at your phone and spilling your heart like a main character in a rom-com.”

Even Jongho joined in. “This is funnier than when he cried during that dog movie.”

“HEY.”

As the guys erupted in laughter, Mingi swiped his phone off the table, unlocking it as your notification popped up again:

Y/N: So… wanna come over tonight and prove you’re not scared of losing? 😏

His lips twitched.

Yeosang’s eyes narrowed like a hawk. “He’s texting her again.”

“Look at that smile.” Yunho sighed dreamily. “He’s gone.”

“Shut up,” Mingi muttered, typing quickly.

Mingi: Be there in 30. Don’t cry when I destroy you in Mario Kart.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The smell hit him as soon as he stepped inside.

Garlic, soy, and something faintly sweet.

“Are you… cooking?” Mingi asked, dropping his jacket on the arm of the couch.

“Maybe,” you called from the kitchen, peeking out from behind the counter with a shy smile.

Mingi grinned as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you stir something in a pot.

“You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to. You always bring takeout, so I thought… I could return the favor.”

When you set a plate in front of him, he took one bite and froze.

“This… this tastes like my mom’s.”

Your eyes widened. “Is that… good?”

“Good?” He laughed, already reaching for another bite. “This is fucking incredible. I’m gonna need like three more plates.”

You flushed with pride as he practically inhaled the first serving.

After dinner, the two of you curled up on the couch, a random movie playing in the background.

Mingi stretched out, one arm draped along the back of the couch, his fingers brushing lazily against your shoulder.

Halfway through the movie, your head tipped onto his chest.

You were asleep within minutes.

He stared down at you, his chest tightening in a way that was becoming disturbingly familiar.

He wasn’t even thinking about sex.

For the first time in… maybe ever… he didn’t care if that’s where the night led.

He just liked being here.

Watching you. Listening to your soft breaths. Feeling the steady warmth of your body against his.

Shit.

The guys were right.

He was in deep.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

When you stirred awake a little later, blinking sleepily up at him, he couldn’t help but smile.

“You fell asleep on me,” he teased softly.

“Sorry…” you murmured, but your arms tightened around his waist.

“Don’t be. I liked it.”

His hand brushed your hair back gently, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Y/N…”

You hummed in question, still half-asleep.

“I think I’m in trouble with you,” he whispered, leaning down to kiss you softly.

The kiss deepened as you woke fully, your fingers curling into his hoodie.

When his tongue brushed against yours, you let out a soft sound that had his control snapping.

“Bedroom?” he asked, his voice rough.

You nodded.

In the bedroom, Mingi was slow at first—undressing you carefully, kissing every new inch of exposed skin.

“You’re perfect,” he murmured against your neck. “I’ll never get tired of this. Of you.”

But when you tugged him closer, whispering his name like a plea, something in him broke.

His kisses turned hungry. His hands roamed greedily.

“You drive me insane, Y/N,” he growled against your lips. “I don’t even know who I am around you anymore.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The Apartment was quiet when Yeosang let himself in.

He balanced the bag of food from his mom on one arm as he nudged the door shut behind him.

“Y/N?” he called softly. “Your aunt made enough stew to feed a small army, so I brought some over.”

No answer.

As he toed off his shoes, his brow furrowed.

There were men’s sneakers by the door. Big ones. Definitely not Y/N’s.

His eyes flicked to the couch—an oversized hoodie was draped over the back. A phone charger was plugged in that wasn’t hers.

His stomach sank.

Did she get a boyfriend?

“Y/N?” he called again, stepping deeper into the apartment.

The sound of faint, even breathing drew his attention to the cracked-open bedroom door.

He froze.

There, tangled up in the sheets, were two figures.

You.

And Mingi.

Yeosang’s brain short-circuited.

Mingi’s arm was thrown lazily over your bare waist, his face tucked into your hair. The sheets barely covered both of you, but there was no mistaking the bare shoulders, the strong chest, the way your legs intertwined under the covers.

Yeosang’s jaw dropped.

“WHAT. THE. FUCK.”

Mingi jerked awake at the sound, his eyes still heavy with sleep as they cracked open.

“…Yeosang?” he mumbled, his voice rough and confused.

“Are you—?!” Yeosang sputtered, his hands flailing like he didn’t know where to look. “Is SHE—?!”

Mingi blinked, trying to sit up, but the movement caused the sheet to slip dangerously low.

“Dude—COVER YOURSELF!”

You stirred beside him, eyes fluttering open in confusion. “Yeosang…?”

“NO.” Yeosang pointed a shaking finger at Mingi. “DON’T ‘YEOSANG’ ME. IS THE MYSTERY GIRL YOU’VE BEEN TEXTING MY COUSIN?!”

Mingi’s mouth opened. Closed.

“I—uh—”

“Oh my GOD.” Yeosang clutched his head. “I’m gonna puke. You’re hooking up with my cousin?! SONG MINGI?!”

“I think Yeosang might kill him.”

Jisoo nearly choked on her iced Americano.

“Wait. BACK UP.” She leaned across the café table, eyes wide with glee. “Yeosang. As in your cousin Yeosang?”

“Yes,” you groaned, hiding your face in your hands.

“And Mingi? As in Song Mingi—campus heartthrob, tall and dangerous, your very-not-boyfriend?”

“Jisoo.”

“I need every detail,” she demanded, barely containing her grin. “How did he find out?”

“He… brought food over.”

“Cute.”

“With his spare key.”

“Oh no.”

“I was asleep. Naked. Cuddling with Mingi. He saw everything.”

Jisoo slapped a hand over her mouth to stifle her laugh.

“Oh my god. I know I should be horrified for you, but this is hilarious. What did Yeosang do?”

“He freaked out! Started shouting about how Mingi’s been texting some mystery girl all month and now it’s his cousin—”

Jisoo snorted. “I love that for him. Poor guy.”

You sighed, stirring your latte absently.

“It’s a mess, Jisoo. He’s pissed, and I don’t even know how to explain it. It’s not like Mingi and I are… y’know… anything serious.”

Jisoo tilted her head. “Are you sure about that?”

Your heart skipped. “What do you mean?”

“You tell me. Are you catching feelings?”

You hesitated.

“I… think I might be.” The words tumbled out softly. “I know we said no strings, but… sometimes he’s just… different.”

“Different how?”

“Like… he doesn’t just come over for sex. He eats my cooking. He stays for movies. He holds me after, even when I fall asleep first. And the way he looks at me sometimes…”

You trailed off, heat rising to your cheeks.

“Sounds like boyfriend behavior to me.”

“Or maybe I’m just delusional,” you mumbled. “Maybe he’s like this with every girl.”

Jisoo reached across the table to squeeze your hand.

“Or maybe he’s not. Maybe he’s catching feelings too, and he doesn’t know how to deal with it.”

You bit your lip, staring down at your coffee.

„You think I should talk to him?”

“Yes.” Jisoo didn’t hesitate for a second. “I know you, Y/N. You’ll eat yourself alive wondering otherwise.”

You fiddled with your straw, staring at the melting ice in your drink.

“But what if I ruin it? What if he doesn’t feel the same and things get awkward?”

Jisoo’s expression softened.

“Then he wasn’t the right guy. And you’ll know, and you’ll heal.”

She reached across the table, resting her hand over yours.

“But if he does feel the same—and you don’t say anything—you might lose out on something amazing.”

You bit your lip.

“I don’t even know how to bring it up. ‘Hey, so I think I might have caught feelings for you even though we promised no strings attached’?”

Jisoo chuckled. “I mean… not those exact words. But yeah. Be honest. Tell him what you told me.”

“I can’t believe this is me,” you muttered. “I’ve turned into one of those girls.”

“You’re one of those girls who’s falling for a guy who might be falling for her too.”

You looked up, meeting her steady gaze.

“And what if I’m wrong? What if I’m just… another girl to him?”

Jisoo shook her head firmly.

“No, Y/N. You said it yourself—he’s different with you. Guys like Mingi don’t hang around for movies and homemade meals unless they want to.”

Her words lingered like a warm ache in your chest.

I hope she’s right.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

When Mingi walked into the dorm lounge, Yeosang was already pacing like a man possessed.

“We have a situation,” Yeosang declared, his hands flailing as the rest of the group looked on in various states of confusion and amusement.

Jongho sipped his coffee calmly. “Do we, though?”

“Yes!” Yeosang said, whirling on him. “A BIG situation.”

San smirked. “This is about Mingi’s mystery girl, isn’t it?”

“Yes,” Yeosang snapped. “And you’ll never guess who it is.”

Hongjoong sighed. “Yeosang. Just say it.”

But Yeosang didn’t get the chance—because Mingi froze in the doorway.

Shit.

Yeosang didn’t see him yet. He was too busy waving his arms.

“It’s Y/N. My COUSIN. That’s who he’s been texting. That’s who he’s been SLEEPING with. I walked in on them cuddling NAKED—”

“Naked?!” Seonghwa’s eyes widened.

“Yes! NAKED.” Yeosang’s voice cracked. “They were like—entangled. It was horrific.”

Wooyoung clutched his stomach, laughing so hard he nearly fell off the couch.

“OH MY GOD. This is incredible.”

San was wheezing. “Song Mingi seducing Yeosang’s cousin… I can’t…”

Jongho just shook his head. “Hyung, you’re a dead man.”

Finally, Yeosang spotted him.

“You!” He pointed an accusatory finger as Mingi stood frozen in place.

Mingi raised his hands. “Wait—Yeosang—”

“EXPLAIN YOURSELF. NOW.”

Hongjoong’s leader voice cut through the chaos.

“Mingi. Are you serious about her?”

The room went dead silent.

Mingi’s chest tightened. He thought about you—your laugh, your smile, the way you fell asleep on his chest like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Yes,” he said softly.

The silence deepened.

“Wait.” Yunho blinked. “Did you just…?”

“I’m serious about her,” Mingi repeated, stronger this time. “I think… I think I’m in love with her.”

Yeosang’s mouth opened. Closed.

San made a sound like a dying dolphin.

Wooyoung actually dropped his chopsticks.

“YOU’RE IN WHAT?!” Yeosang finally shouted.

“Love,” Mingi said simply, meeting his eyes. “I know it’s fast. I know it’s not what you expected. But it’s true.“

Wooyoung was on his feet now. “OH MY GOD. HE ADMITTED IT. SONG MINGI HAS FALLEN.”

San clutched Yunho for support, laughing so hard tears streamed down his face.

Jongho raised an eyebrow. “Congrats on becoming a softie, hyung.”

Yeosang sputtered. “YOU—MY COUSIN—YOU’RE—”

Hongjoong clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Breathe, Yeosang. At least he’s in love and not just… y’know…”

“Fucking her?” Jongho supplied bluntly.

“JONGHO.”

Mingi exhaled deeply.

“I don’t want to hurt her. I don’t even think about leaving after—because I don’t want to leave.”

Yeosang went quiet for a moment, staring at him like he’d grown a second head.

“…You better mean that,” he said finally, voice tight. “If you break her heart, I swear—”

“I won’t,” Mingi interrupted softly. “I promise.”

“I don’t even know if she likes me back,” he muttered, staring at the ceiling.

“What?” Yunho asked, eyes wide.

“She and I… we agreed after the party that it was just casual.”

Yeosang froze mid-pace, his eyes snapping to Mingi like he’d just confessed a murder.

“AFTER THE PARTY?!”

“Yeah.”

“THE PARTY THAT WAS OVER A MONTH AGO?!”

“Yeah.”

Yeosang’s voice cracked. “YOU’VE BEEN SMOOCHING AROUND WITH MY COUSIN THAT LONG?!”

Wooyoung was already on the floor laughing.

“Smooching around? Oh my god—” He wiped tears from his eyes. “Yeosang, you sound like her dad.”

“I FEEL LIKE HER DAD,” Yeosang yelled. “You—” He pointed wildly at Mingi. “—you KNEW she was my cousin because I INTRODUCED her as my cousin, and you STILL—”

“I know,” Mingi groaned, covering his face with his hands. “I didn’t plan on this happening.”

San cackled, leaning into Yunho. “He’s been secretly dating her for a month and calls it casual.”

“It’s NOT dating,” Mingi protested weakly. “It’s just… complicated.”

“Sounds like dating,” Jongho deadpanned.

Hongjoong raised a hand, cutting through the laughter.

“Mingi. Be honest. What are your intentions with her?”

Mingi sat up, running a hand through his hair.

“I don’t know,” he admitted. “I just… I want to be with her. All the time. But I don’t know if she wants that with me.”

“Mingi.” Yunho leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “You’re in love. She might be too. But you’ll never know if you don’t talk to her.”

San grinned. “Yeah. Confess. Worst case? She says no and you cry in the shower like Wooyoung.”

“HEY.” Wooyoung threw a napkin at him. “I cried ONE time. Shut up.”

Seonghwa gave Mingi a pointed look. “They’re right. You can’t keep dancing around this. You need to tell her how you feel.”

Even Jongho chimed in, his tone dry as ever.

“You’re acting like a high schooler. Grow a pair and confess.”

Mingi groaned. “You guys make it sound so easy. What if it ruins everything?”

“Or what if it makes everything better?” Yunho countered.

Silence fell for a moment as Yeosang crossed his arms, still glaring.

“…Fine,” he muttered finally. “But if you hurt her, I’ll break your face.”

Mingi looked up, startled.

“I’m serious,” Yeosang said sharply. “Confess. But if you screw this up, cousin or not, I’m coming for you.”

Hongjoong clapped his hands together. “Settled then. Mingi’s going to tell her.”

Wooyoung smirked. “Should we start planning the wedding?”

“WOoYoUnG—”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The sun was warm against your skin as you sat cross-legged on the grass, a paperback balanced in your lap.

Campus was quieter than usual this afternoon, most students rushing off to their next classes or huddled in the library.

You turned a page, lips curving into a small smile as the story pulled you in.

“Hey.”

You blinked, looking up.

A tall, broad-shouldered guy stood a few feet away, a backpack slung lazily over one shoulder. His smile was easy and charming, dark eyes glinting as he brushed a hand through his wavy hair.

“Sorry to bother you. I just… couldn’t help noticing you.”

Your cheeks heated instantly. “Noticing… me?”

“Yeah. You look cute sitting there, all focused.” He nodded toward your book. “What are you reading?”

You glanced down at the cover, suddenly shy. “Oh, um… just a novel. Nothing exciting.”

He smiled wider. “Well, you make it look exciting.”

You blinked, stunned. Wait. Is he flirting? With me?

You’d never been the type to attract random strangers like this.

“Anyway,” he said, shifting his weight, “I was wondering… would you maybe want to give me your number? We could grab coffee sometime.”

Your mouth opened. Closed.

“I…” You bit your lip. “I appreciate it, but… I’m seeing someone right now. So I’m not interested.”

For a beat, his smile faltered. But then he chuckled softly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Lucky guy.”

He stepped back, giving you a little nod. “Have a good day.”

“You too,” you murmured, watching as he walked away.

You turned back to your book, but the words blurred as your thoughts drifted.

Seeing someone.

The phrase had slipped out so naturally.

Even though you and Mingi weren’t official… it still felt true.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

He hadn’t meant to wander past this part of campus.

After leaving the dorm, Mingi’s steps had felt aimless—pulled by some invisible string until he ended up cutting across the lawn.

That’s when he saw you.

You were sitting cross-legged on the grass, a paperback balanced in your lap, hair falling softly around your face. The sunlight caught on your skin, and for a moment Mingi just… stopped.

You looked so peaceful.

So yours.

His lips parted slightly. He was about to call out to you—maybe wave—when movement caught his eye.

A tall guy. Attractive. Broad shoulders, easy smile, leaning down slightly as he spoke to you.

Mingi’s chest tightened.

The guy’s grin was obvious. So was the way his gaze lingered on you.

He was flirting.

Mingi’s jaw clenched.

He couldn’t hear your reply, but you looked flustered—eyes wide, hand fiddling with the corner of your book.

Was this what you liked?

The thought made his stomach churn.

You’re being stupid, he told himself. She’s not yours.

But it didn’t matter. Watching someone else smile at you like that felt like a hand around his throat.

When the guy stepped back, Mingi exhaled shakily. Relief washed over him as the stranger gave a small nod and walked away, leaving you alone again.

He ran a hand down his face.

This can’t wait anymore.

I have to talk to her.

But as he took a step forward, you began packing your things.

You slipped your book into your bag, slung it over your shoulder, and headed toward the main building—probably off to your next lecture.

Mingi stood frozen for a second, his heart pounding.

Now or never.

Mingi cursed under his breath as you disappeared around the corner of the path.

She’s fast. How is she so fast?

His long strides carried him quickly across the lawn, but you—small, unassuming you—moved with a surprising purpose.

Is she speed walking?

“Y/N!” he called, but his voice was lost in the hum of campus noise.

You didn’t turn.

Mingi adjusted his pace, nearly jogging as you darted up the steps toward the main building.

“Seriously? Those tiny legs?” he muttered under his breath.

Finally, as you reached for the lecture hall door, his hand caught your wrist.

“Y/N—wait.”

You jumped slightly, startled, but when you turned and saw him your expression shifted instantly—softening into surprise and then warmth.

“Mingi? What are you—”

“Did you give him your number?”

You blinked. “What?”

“The guy,” Mingi said, his voice lower now but tight with something he couldn’t quite name. “The one who was talking to you just now. Did you… give him your number?”

Your brows knitted, confusion flickering across your face.

“No. Of course not.”

“Then why was he—”

“Why are you asking me that?”

Around you, a hush had fallen.

Students settling into their seats were now watching openly, whispering behind hands.

“Mingi,” you said softly, tilting your head, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “Are you okay?”

He exhaled, realizing his fingers were still curled gently around your wrist. He let go quickly, rubbing the back of his neck.

“I just… I saw him talking to you. And I—” He broke off, swallowing hard.

“I think…”

Mingi’s voice was louder than he intended, and it carried across the room.

You blinked at him, startled.

“I think I’m jealous.”

The room went silent.

Dozens of pairs of eyes turned toward you both, whispers rippling through the lecture hall.

You stared at him, your mouth slightly open.

“What?”

“I saw that guy talking to you,” Mingi said, his voice tight. “And I thought… I don’t know. I thought I was fine, but then I realized I’m not fine. I don’t like seeing you with anyone else.”

Your brows furrowed, confusion mixing with surprise.

“Mingi… what are you saying?”

His hand raked through his hair, his usual smooth composure cracking like glass.

“I’m saying—fuck—I think I like you. No, I know I like you. I’m in love with you, Y/N.”

Gasps echoed faintly around the room.

Your lips parted, but no sound came out. You weren’t expecting this—this version of Mingi.

He looked nervous. Vulnerable. His tall frame seemed smaller somehow as he stood there under the weight of so many eyes.

When you didn’t speak right away, his expression shifted.

The faint hope in his eyes dimmed.

“Right,” he said quickly, stepping back. “I’m an idiot. I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“Mingi—”

“It’s fine,” he said, his voice tight. “Someone like you… you deserve better than some guy who slept his way through half the campus.”

And with that, he turned and walked out, his shoulders tense.

You stood frozen at the entrance, heart pounding in your ears.

The professor cleared her throat pointedly.

“Miss? Are you coming in or staying out?”

Heat rushed to your cheeks as you nodded quickly and slipped into a seat.

You barely registered the lecture starting.

Your mind was still spinning.

Mingi’s in love with me?

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

The apartment was filled with laughter and the rapid clicking of controllers when Mingi walked in.

“Yo, you’re back!” San called from where he was sprawled on the floor. “You miss me wrecking Yunho in Mario Kart?”

But the moment Mingi stepped fully into the room, the energy shifted.

He was pouting.

Not his usual playful pout—the deep, miserable kind, his lower lip jutted out as his brows knitted together.

His eyes were glassy like he’d been holding back tears the whole walk home.

And he wasn’t even trying to hide it.

“Uh-oh,” Wooyoung whispered, pausing mid-game. “That’s not a ‘casual Mingi’ face. That’s a ‘my heart just got ripped out’ face.”

Mingi didn’t respond. He just let out a heavy sigh and flopped face-down onto the couch, burying his head in a throw pillow.

The room went quiet.

“Did… did something happen?” Yunho asked carefully.

“She rejected you, didn’t she?” San blurted, his voice soft with surprise instead of mockery.

Mingi groaned into the pillow. “She didn’t reject me. She didn’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?” Hongjoong’s voice was calm, but his eyes were sharp with concern.

“I confessed. In front of her entire lecture hall like an idiot. And she just… stared at me.”

Yeosang, who had been sitting stiffly in the corner, frowned. “She didn’t answer at all?”

“No.” Mingi’s voice cracked slightly. “She just… stood there. And I panicked. I said I wasn’t good enough for her and I left.”

“Oh, hyung…” Yunho rubbed the back of his neck. “You’ve got it bad.”

“You think?” Mingi muttered bitterly, his words muffled by the pillow.

Wooyoung whistled low. “Damn. You finally fell for someone, and now you’re the one getting wrecked.”

“Not helping,” Seonghwa murmured.

“Hey.” Hongjoong’s voice was steady, firm. “You did the right thing. You told her how you feel. That’s brave.”

“Brave and stupid,” Mingi mumbled.

Yeosang let out a quiet sigh. “Look. I don’t know where her head’s at. But I know my cousin. She doesn’t just stare at people for no reason. She was probably just shocked.”

Mingi peeked out from the pillow, his lashes damp.

“Do you really think she might…?”

San grinned faintly. “Dude, she likes you. We’ve all seen it. She’s just shy as hell.”

“Or she’s realized you’re a walking red flag,” Wooyoung added with a shrug.

“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa warned.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

You barely remembered leaving the lecture hall.

Your bag swung against your hip as you speed-walked across campus, your shoes clicking against the pavement.

He said he loves me.

The words echoed in your head like a drumbeat.

Song Mingi. Loves me.

You yanked out your phone, your fingers fumbling as you called Jisoo.

“Whoa—aren’t you supposed to be in class?”

“Jisoo, I—he—oh my god.”

“Slow down,” she laughed. “Who?”

“Mingi. He confessed. In front of the whole lecture hall. Everyone saw.”

There was a pause.

“Girl.” Jisoo’s voice turned smug. “I know.”

“You WHAT?”

“It’s all over campus. People are calling it ‘the K-drama moment of the year.’”

You groaned, pressing a hand to your hot face.

“This is so embarrassing—”

“Embarrassing? He confessed in public and you just froze? No wonder he thinks you don’t like him back.”

“I didn’t mean to! I was shocked!”

Jisoo’s voice softened.

“So? Do you like him?”

You stopped in your tracks.

“Yes,” you whispered. “I think I do.”

“Then what are you doing talking to me? Run to him, you idiot.”

You let out a shaky laugh. “I’m already on my way.”

By the time you reached the dorm, your heart was hammering in your ears.

You hung up with Jisoo, wiped your palms on your skirt, and knocked.

The door opened a crack—and there he was.

Mingi.

Dressed in an oversized fuzzy pullover, holding a half-melted tub of ice cream. His hair was a mess, his eyes slightly red like he’d rubbed at them too much.

He blinked at you in surprise, his mouth parting slightly.

“Y/N…?”

You took a breath, clutching the strap of your bag.

“Hi.”

The door swung open wider, and there he was.

Song Mingi.

Tall, broad-shouldered, hair sticking up in a thousand directions like he’d run his hands through it too many times. His oversized fuzzy pullover swallowed him, the sleeves falling over his fingers where he clutched a melting tub of ice cream.

His eyes were slightly red, like maybe—just maybe—he’d been close to crying.

For a split second, he looked like every male lead in every heartbreak K-drama you’d ever watched.

“Y/N?” he said softly, as if saying your name might break him.

“I—uh—what are you doing here?”

You stepped closer, clutching your bag.

“I came to talk to you.”

Mingi shifted nervously, his free hand rubbing the back of his neck.

“You… didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

“I mean—you don’t have to explain or—if you don’t feel the same, it’s fine, really. I shouldn’t have—I didn’t mean to—”

“Mingi.”

He froze.

You took another step closer.

“Shut up.”

And then you kissed him.

It wasn’t perfect.

You were trembling slightly, standing on tiptoe to reach him, your hands fisting into the soft fabric of his hoodie. But the second your lips pressed to his, he froze—then melted.

The ice cream hit the floor with a dull thud as his arms wrapped around you, pulling you flush against him.

When you finally pulled back, his eyes searched yours, wild and wide.

“I like you too,” you whispered, your voice steady even as your heart tried to beat out of your chest. “I was just… shocked. I didn’t know what to say.”

Mingi let out a breath that sounded almost like a laugh. His forehead dropped to yours, his arms still locked tight around your waist.

“You’re serious?”

“Yes.”

“You’re not just saying that because I look like a tragic K-drama lead right now?”

You laughed, tears pricking your eyes. “You do. But no. I’m serious.”

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

“Did you hear the door?” San asked, pausing his game.

“Yeah,” Yunho said, leaning back to peek toward the entrance. “Wait… is that… Y/N?”

“Holy shit,” Wooyoung hissed, dropping his controller. “It’s her. She came after him.”

Yeosang’s head whipped up so fast you’d think his neck cracked.

“My cousin’s HERE?”

“Shhh!” Seonghwa waved frantically. “They’re talking!”

They all froze, controllers forgotten, as Mingi’s nervous voice drifted from the doorway.

“I—uh—what are you doing here?”

“I came to talk to you.”

“You… didn’t have to.”

“I wanted to.”

Yunho slapped San’s arm excitedly. “She wanted to.”

“Shut up,” Yeosang hissed. “What’s happening?”

And then—

They saw it.

Y/N stepped forward, grabbed Mingi’s hoodie, and kissed him.

“OH MY GOD—” Wooyoung clapped a hand over his mouth to stifle his yell.

San wasn’t so subtle.

“YOOOOOOOOO! SHE KISSED HIM FIRST!”

Yunho’s eyes widened as he started clapping softly like he was at a wedding. “Let’s gooo. Main character energy.”

Even Jongho cracked a small smirk.

“Finally. Took them long enough.”

Yeosang, meanwhile, looked like he was experiencing all five stages of grief.

“They’re… kissing? She kissed HIM?”

“She kissed him, bro,” Wooyoung whispered, shaking his shoulders. “You lost. Mingi’s your cousin-in-law now.”

“WOYOuNg—”

Hongjoong pinched the bridge of his nose but couldn’t hide the faint smile tugging at his lips.

“Let’s give them a second. Don’t scare her off.”

Seonghwa nodded, smiling softly. “She wouldn’t have kissed him if she didn’t feel the same.”

Yeosang sank into the couch, rubbing his temples.

“I can’t believe I’m living through this.”

“OH MY GOD THEY’RE SO CUTE,” San whispered like he couldn’t physically hold it in.

₊˚ ✧ ━━━━⊱⋆⊰━━━━ ✧ ₊˚

Mingi didn’t care who was watching.

Not the people whispering as he walked across campus.

Not the cluster of students gawking from the café window.

Not even the group chat notifications blowing up on his phone (probably from his idiot friends).

All he cared about was you.

You walked beside him, clutching a small to-go cup of tea, your cheeks pink from the cold.

“Here.” He stopped, tugging your hand gently. “Your scarf’s coming loose.”

Before you could protest, Mingi stepped in close and started re-wrapping your scarf—his big hands surprisingly gentle.

When he was satisfied, he leaned down and pressed a soft kiss to your forehead.

“There. Perfect.”

“Min…” you whispered, glancing around. “People are staring.”

“Good.” He grinned, eyes crinkling. “Let them see how pretty my girlfriend is.”

Someone behind you audibly whispered, “Is that Song Mingi? The campus player? Holding hands?!”

Mingi’s grin widened.

“Yeah,” he said under his breath, loud enough for them to hear. “The player’s retired. Sorry.”

You were perched on a stool, reading a textbook while Mingi sat across from you, his chin propped on his hand.

“Stop staring,” you murmured without looking up.

“Can’t.”

He reached over and tucked a stray piece of hair behind your ear.

“You’re distracting.”

“Min—”

“Open.”

You blinked as he held out a forkful of his cake.

“I’m not—”

“Open.”