aei

“See…” a hand snatched the thong from him, dangling them in his face. “pervert.” San was grinning with Jongho laughing beside him. “Give them back!” Yunho snatched at them only for San to move out of the way. “Why are you carrying around thongs for anyways?” San passed them to Jongho when Yunho stood, towering over both of them. Annoyed. And his eye twitching. If only San knew who those thongs belonged to….. “They’re not mine.” Yunho snatched them from Jongho and shoved them back into his bag.

“Oh….” Jongho bumped his shoulder with San. “someone has a girlfriend he hasn’t told us about.” That made San perk up. “Oh! Is that why you’ve been so…. loose lately? You’re getting laid?” Him and Jongho laughed again all in good tease. The two of them and Wooyoung were like three annoying younger brothers sometimes. “It’s none of your buisness.” Yunho picked his bag up and started walking towards the small little change room Mingi disappeared into just a minute ago.

“He’s deflecting. That means we know her.” Jongho grinned as San laughed. The change room door slammed shut behind him and Yunho groaned making Mingi look up at him where he was pulling on his shoes. “Who pissed you off?” That’s the thing with Mingi. He could read Yunho like an open book. Yunho rolled his eyes as he started changing his clothes, letting the ones the stylist put him in drop to the floor. “San and Jongho found a thong in my bag…”

Mingi stares at him and Yunho just stares right back. Then Mingi burst out laughing. “Damn…. Didn’t know you were into that.” Yunho glared at him. “They’re not mine. They’re Y/N’s.” That made Mingi stop laughing for exactly seventeen seconds before he started laughing again. “Oh my god…. You mean… you’re telling me that San found his sister’s thong in your bag and he doesn’t even know it? I told you this was going to blow up in your face!”

“First of all,” Yunho pulled his shirt on. “she’s his step sister. And secondly, she’s a grown woman.” Mingi had tears in his eyes at this point as he stood up. “Doesn’t change the fact if San realizes then you’re a dead man.” And he wasn’t exaggerating either. San was a little overprotective of his sisters. He proved that a couple months ago at his eldest sister’s wedding when he threatened her husband that if he makes her cry he’d make him disappear all while he was doing that, Yunho had you, his younger, beloved, the one he’s most protective over, sister bent over an old table behind his parents house. He’d kept your panties that day too.

It started new years. KQ threw this big party and all the member’s families were invited of course. It didn’t take long after you had gotten there for Yunho to have you riding him in Mingi’s studio on the third floor. It was supposed to of just been that one time. But then it kept happening. Now it’s been six months and you were both taking it steady behind San’s back. “He won’t find out.” Yunho sounded like he was more trying to convince himself than he was Mingi.

Mingi snorted. “You have pictures of her naked on your phone…. all it’s gonna take…”

“He’ll never see them.” Yunho clenched his jaw. Mingi was never of supposed to of seen them either. But then a month ago his best friend grabbed his phone while Yunho was sleeping, looking for some unposted unit comeback photos he knew Yunho had and instead found you. You in nothing but one of Yunho’s shirts pulled up over your exposed ass. You wet right out of the shower. You with Yunho buried inside you. That one had been a video.

So, yeah….. maybe Yunho was a bit of a pervert.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The dorm was quiet other than the low hum of the central air as Yunho and Yeosang dragged inside. “I’m getting a shower.” Yunho wasted no time dropping his duffel off in his room and then crossing the hall to the bathroom. The steam from the shower enveloped around him as his muscles relaxed under the heat. That was the only thing that relaxed. His mind? Not so much. All he could think about was you. Your thong in your brother’s hands. San finding out…… he’s seen San pissed only a handful of times through the years. And honestly, Yunho wasn’t so sure it would be the fact he’s seeing you but more so that he was sneaking behind San’s back. And San hated being lied to.

His neck popped as he rolled his shoulders stepping back out the shower. Water clung to him as he grabbed a towel, drying in haste, leaving his hair to just air dry. He had no shame as he stepped out of the bathroom completely naked and walked out towards the kitchen. Yeosang blinked at him from where he sat on the couch. “You’re just…. dangling ….. very largely everywhere.”

Yunho rolled his eyes. This was nothing new and maybe it was one of the reasons why Yeosang also joked he has perverted quirks. It being just the two of them, Yunho was naked often. There was sometimes sweat stains left in his gaming chair from his ass. Yunho opened the fridge and grabbed a beer, the first swig making him close his eyes and let out a sigh. Then his eyes snapped open as the front door opened. The voices of San, Wooyoung and you trailing inside. He tried sprinting back to his room but as soon as he moved, Wooyoung’s ecstatic giggle stopped him in his tracks.

“Ahhh…. Yunho,” San grabbed you and spun you around, still oblivious that you have seen every detail of Yunho. No idea that you’ve had every inch that was on display buried inside you multiple times. “See! You fucking pervert.”

Wooyoung was ogling. “I say let him keep it out.” He grinned at Yunho as he moved to sit beside Yeosang and you shoved away from San. “Will you move? I’ve seen a dick before.” San gaped at you as Wooyoung laughed and Yunho’s ears started turning red. “Well you’re not gonna see that one.” San grabbed the throw pillow Yeosang had in his lap and chunked it at Yunho. “Cover that thing up!”

Yunho clutched the pillow and held it against himself. His dick barely staying hidden behind the small material. He turned around to get to his room and get dressed but your voice stopped him. “Nice ass.” He could practically hear the smirk in your voice. He was sure you were staring at the fading scratches you left there from a few nights ago. You loved his ass. Loved gripping it when he rutted inside you like he was trying to empty his soul out.

“Y/N!”

Yunho could feel the tips of his ears burning as he disappeared into his bedroom. He was gonna make you pay for that. He was already thinking of many scenarios to make you pay that would have San ready to commit murder. The thought alone made Yunho snort as he tossed the throw pillow he was still holding onto his gaming chair. He casted a glance at his reflection in the mirror on his wall. His roots were starting to grow out in the blonde but he was holding out dying it since you loved it too much. He was realizing he was starting to do a lot because you liked something. But you also did a lot because he liked something. And Yunho was starting to think that maybe whatever this was the two of you had wasn’t so casual anymore…. that it wasn’t exactly steady.

“Knock, knock.”

“Jesus!” Yunho jumped, turning around and glaring at you. “What the hell are you doing?” Because he was still naked and San, Wooyoung and Yeosang…..

“Relax.” You waved him off as you walked into his room, shutting the door behind you. “They all went to get food.” You dragged your gaze down his body, eyes lingering on his shoulders, noticing how much broader he’s gotten lately. Then your gaze dropped lower to where his dick hung heavy. “San said he found some girl’s thong in your bag today….” You started moving closer. “I think he’s convinced you’re hiding a girlfriend.”

Girlfriend. That hit hard. Neither of you had put labels on it yet. On what you were. But Yunho certainly wouldn’t deny it if that’s what you wanted. “San’s nosy.” He watched you trace a hand up his abdomen, then back down and his dick twitched a little in anticipation. At just the thought of having you while your brother was out getting food and would be back any moment. It was a rush. And Yunho could be an adrenaline junky.

You dropped to your knees in an almost haste, now barely eye level with his dick and Yunho let you take over for a minute. Just stood there and watched. Stood there and groaned when you gripped him, bringing his hardening dick to your mouth. Stood there and watched as your lips stretched wide around him and he let you take your time to feed his length deeper into your mouth. The tip bumped the back of your throat with every slow thrust, spit dripping down your chin and onto your shirt.

He pulled out just enough to rest the heavy length on your tongue, tapping the wet tip against it a few times before dragging it across your flushed cheek, leaving a shiny trail of spit and precum. He didn’t give you time to catch your breath. Both hands gripped the sides of your head and he shoved himself back in, hips snapping forward until your nose pressed against his pelvis. The sudden force made your eyes water, but your fingers dug into his ass, nails biting deep enough to leave fresh red marks across the skin and Yunho groaned at the sting, loving that slight little tinge of pain as he started fucking your throat with steady strokes that made wet, obscene sounds fill the room.

“Look at you,” he rasped, voice low and rough. “Gagging on my dick like a desperate little slut. Bet you’re dripping just from having your throat used, aren’t you? Gonna come just from me fucking your face?” You moaned around him, the vibration making his hips stutter and he held you there a moment longer, buried to the hilt before pulling out completely letting strings of spit connect your now swollen lips to his glistening dick. “Strip,” he ordered, tracing his thumb on your bottom lip before you stood.

You snatched your shirt off first. The fabric dropping to the floor. Your pants were next. The jeans sticking at your wet thighs from how soaked sucking his dick made you. When you moved to reach to drag your panties off, he stopped you. “Leave those on.” He hauled you up and onto the bed, positioning you on all fours. You expected him to yank the black lace aside and sink into you, but instead he stayed behind you, one hand smoothing over the curve of your ass. “Nice ass?” he repeated, echoing your earlier words with a dark chuckle. “Saying that in front of your brother? Brats like that should be punished.”

Yunho wrapped his fingers around his dick and dragged the tip slowly over the thin black lace covering your pussy, pressing the fabric against your soaked folds. He stroked himself like that for a long second, letting the tip glide back and forth through your wetness, the lace growing darker and stickier with every pass as your hips started to twitch, trying to push back, but he only teased, never sinking inside you. He pulled back long enough to reach over to the bedside table. You heard the soft click of his phone unlocking. The camera light coming on, the lens aimed straight at where his dick was rubbing again at you.

“Please,” you whispered, voice hoarse and growing desperate. “Fuck me…. Yunho… I need it.”

He hummed in amusement. “Oh, I will.” The recording stayed on a few more seconds, capturing every desperate wiggle of your hips before he locked the screen and tossed the phone aside. Then he dragged one finger up through your slick, gathering the mess and grabbing your hair, pulling your head back, bringing it to your lips. “Suck.” You opened obediently, tongue curling around his soaked finger and cleaned it. Yunho’s thoughts drifted for a second….. yeah, San and Jongho might’ve been onto something when they joked he was a pervert.

He let your hair go, pulling his finger back and yanked your hips up. His dick, shiny with your juices, pressed against your entrance and he thrusted into you, bottoming out with a groan as you cried out. He bit his bottom lip as he thrusted slow and deep, coating himself with you before pulling back out. His tip dragged upward, circling your ass, smearing slick over the rim as he gave you one heartbeat to adjust before sinking in, inch by inch, until his hips met your ass and a low groan left him at the tight heat.

He stayed still for a few seconds, knowing the others could walk in any moment but he was starting not care, he wanted to give you time to breathe. To adjust. Until you started pushing back against him, voice shaky but defiant. “I know you can go harder than that.”

“Brat,” he growled, the word vibrating through his chest as his hands clamped on your hips and he started pounding into your ass without another second to breathe, the slap of skin loud and filthy. One hand slid beneath you, two fingers pushing into your dripping pussy while his dick kept driving into your ass, the dual stretch of his fingers fucking you and his dick buried in your ass making your vision blur and for pleasure to coil tight and fast until it snapped. Your scream muffled against the sheets as your whole body shook through the orgasm, squirting on his fingers and his bed sheets.

He didn’t stop though. Yunho just fucked you through it, fingers still working inside you until his rhythm faltered and he buried himself deep, dick pulsing as he filled your ass. He stayed inside you for a minute, breathing hard, before pulling out and letting his cum start to trickle down your ass as he dropped to his knees behind you, tongue dragging over your used hole, licking up the mess he’d left before moving lower to lap at your soaked pussy. The wet sounds of his mouth were almost as obscene as him fucking you had been.

When he finally pulled back, he hooked his fingers into the ruined black lace of your panties and peeled them down your legs. “Mine now,” he said, voice still rough, and tucked the damp fabric into his pocket.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

Yunho had just finished pulling on his favorite pair of grey sweatpants when he heard the others get back. Yeosang said something about never going anywhere with Woo and San again. Their laughter echoed down the hall and into his bedroom. It had only been about fifteen minutes since Yunho had you a mess on his bed. Now you were in the living room, dress. Missing your panties. And his bed was still a mess.

“Hey….” San peaked into his room to let him know they got pizza and immediately froze. He furrowed his brows, sniffed the air and frowned. “It smells like sex in here.” Yunho blinked at him, clearing his throat and lied straight through his teeth. “I jerked off.”

San had a look of pure disgust as he retreated from his door. “Oh my god, Yunho! While my sister was in the living room? I was right. You are a pervert.”

Yunho didn’t even try to deny it this time.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

A week later and Yunho was covered in sweat after Ateez set for BST. The London heat almost suffocating. But that heat didn’t compare to you also being there. You had begged San to let you come which he caved instantly. And Yunho was holding on by a thread.

You wore a white tank top that let him see the slightest sweat glistening on your shoulders. The shorts you had on barely covered your ass and he had to stop himself multiple times from just outright staring. And now? Now you were walking towards him, handing him another bottle of water. “You’re like…” you dragged your eyes down him, staring at his arms on display. “sweating everywhere.”

Yunho uncapped the bottle of water you gave him. “Trust me, I know.” He tipped his head back and your gaze lingered at his throat and the way his adams apple bobbed as he drank. “Mhm…” you stepped a little closer. Just enough for only he could hear. “I’m gonna do things to you with my tongue that your good lord never wanted to bear witness.” Yunho choked. Literally. He shouldn’t be shocked. Because he may be a pervert according to the guys. But you were just as much of a freak.

The water sputtered out of Yunho’s mouth as you laughed and patted at his back. The commotion had San’s attention now. He narrowed his eyes at the two of you then he froze. Blue. Lace. Strings peaking out the back of the top of your shorts as you bent over to grab a dry towel to hand to Yunho. No. No. Absolutely not. It clicked fast after that. Blue lace thongs. You for months now wanting to travel with them when you were allowed. Always going with San over to Yeosang and Yunho’s. Always at their dance practices. The lingering looks he’d catch Yunho give you but ignored because he just thought Yunho thought you were hot. A few of the guys did. But the other guys didn’t carry around your thong…..

“YUNHO, YOU ASSHOLE!”

Everyone froze then. Yunho finally stopped coughing. You and him stared at San as Mingi seemed to put two and two together and pulled his phone to record. “Here we go.”

San marched over, still a little breathless from performing. He seemed more shocked than angry. Ok. Maybe he looked a little angry. “You’re fucking my sister.” The accusation landed like a slap and neither you or Yunho denied it as chaos erupted around you.

“What?” Hongjoong looked exasperated.

“That explains a lot.” Seonghwa snorted as he grabbed himself a bottle of water as Wooyoung laughed. Loud. Tears forming in his eyes as a cackle tore from him. Yeosang didn’t look surprised at all. Being Yunho’s roommate, he’s already heard things he wish he hadn’t.

“Wait….” Jongho looked like he won the lottery. “THE THONGS WERE HERS?” He started laughing, pointing at San. “Man…. You picked up your sister’s used underwear! Used by Yunho!” He made the situation so much worse instantly because now San did look mad. Really mad. Disgusted and mad.

“We’re not fucking.” You argued, then slipped your hand into Yunho’s sweaty one. “We’re dating.”

“This is fucking gold.” Mingi was enjoying this way too much.

Yunho gripped your hand back. Clearing his throat and looking down at San. “Sorry…. we didn’t know how to tell you.” He had to play like he wasn’t absolutely losing his mind over you saying that you were dating.

For now, Yunho was just thankful San had no idea what perverted evidence he had with you on his phone.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

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so you tried to ignore the way your thighs always clenched whenever toji was around, or the way your eyes would wander down the expanse of his muscles whenever the two of them worked out together.

you weren't that kind of person, right? the kind of girl that would shut her eyes the second sukuna slipped inside of you, wishing it was toji instead.

—

"y'know you really are too good for him." 

"what?" 

toji moved behind you, holding you from the back before spinning you around, his arms wrapped around your waist, his lips hovering over your neck while you giggled.

"i mean it—you're pretty, kind, smart and you're insane for putting up with a guy like sukuna."

"says you." you said, turning over to face him, pouting just a little to get your point across.

"what? you've never seen me leave you behind, have you, pretty?" his voice was smooth, laced with the slightest bit of condescension.

"it's whatever." you rolled your eyes at him, lightly hitting him on his chest while he laughs, his grip tightening around your waist while he slowly leaned in.

"what's going on here?"

"sukuna! you're home." you shoved toji off of you, sauntering your way to sukuna, wrapping your arms around his neck before he kisses your senseless, eyeing toji the entire time his lips were connected to yours.

because sukuna ryomen knew. he knew the way toji looked at you, and he saw the way you looked at him when you thought nobody was looking.

but it was just a fleeting thought, right? i mean, yeah, he'd been busy, ditching dates to stay over at practice—and he knew you didn't like it when he just left, only to show up in the dead of night, drunk out of his mind and on the verge of collapsing. 

sukuna ryomen knew you deserved better. but better didn't mean toji fushiguro.

—

"fuuuck you feel so good—." sukuna was rutting his hips against yours, his cock buried inside your walls while you held onto his back, leaving behind bruising marks on his skin, biting down on his shoulders to stop yourself from screaming.

"oh come on, the least you could do is let me hear you." he purred, his eyes glinting a little underneath the dim lights while he lifted himself up a little.

"f—fuck but to—ji might hear us."

sukuna cocked his head in confusion, because knowing you, wouldn't you have wanted toji to hear how pretty you sounded getting absolutely wrecked?

"i barely get to see you all week, at least let me hear you, doll." is all he said before quickening his pace, his hips snapping against yours forcefully, your slick running down your thighs, with the entire room filled with the noises of the two of you moving against each other.

"so—good kuna nngh—."

—

"fuck, this is pathetic." toji whispered, fisting his cock, his ears pressed against the shared wall of his room, listening to your whimpers through the walls.

he could hear you chanting sukuna's name, the creaking with every thrust—

"keep going toj—sukuna-!"

what. the. fuck.

—

sukuna was gone. again. and knowing him he was probably black out drunk on someone's lawn, with a sorority girl half asleep on top of him while he tried to figure out where the fuck he was.

you tried to tell yourself that you could put up with it—the parties, the alcohol, the sheer amount of people that orbited sukuna, but it got to a point. where you just want to fuck it up so you can finally let go.

but sukuna knew. he knew you wanted him to change, to swoop into your life like some kind of knight in shining armour. so he kept you close enough to have you stay.

well, that's what you would've done, anyway. until toji decided to get himself involved, which he always did, he was tojiafterall.

and when sukuna walks back home with a pretty girl with a heart of gold wrapped around his fingers, toji's only goal is to unravel it.

and when you looked up and him and blinked through your lashes, toji fushiguro knew that he'd do anything to fuck over anything you had happening with sukuna. 

—

"he's not home again, huh?"

"fuck off toji." 

you frantically tried to wipe away your tears, still dressed in the stupid outfit he was supposed to take you out in, curled up in his bed while toji barged in like he owned the place.

"why do you even put up with this, pretty? you can do so much better."

"by better, you mean you, right?" you let out a bitter laugh, barely looking at him while he closed the space between the two of you.

"well, you can allow me to be selfish just this once, right?"

you let out a bitter laugh, hitting him on his chest once, expecting him to move away, to leave you to wallow in your own misery and hope sukuna would at least show up before two in the morning.

"whatever, toji."

"aw, don't be like that, doll."

his arms looped around your waist again, pressing you into his chest like he always did, your soft sobs muffled by his boobs pecs.

he slowly shifted you onto his lap, kissing the top of your head before looking down, your eyes brimming with tears while you looked up at him, your cheek still pressed up against his chest.

"he's good to me, toji."

"sometimes. i could be better, y'know."

"i don't know that."

"then let me show you. please." 

his eyes were flitting down to your lips, only when he thought you weren't paying attention, slowly drawing mindless circles around your waist with his hands.

you nodded once, and that was all the permission he needed before his lips were on yours, his tongue sliding on the edge of your lips while you sobbed into his mouth.

"are you sure?"

"you wanted this, toji, why are you so hesitant now?"

"because now, there's no turning back."

well, fuck it, right?

—

"f—fuck t-toji, s—slow down."

"never heard you sound like this around sukuna, doll."

"stop talking about him—while you're inside me."

"you're unbelievable, you know that?"

you rolled your pretty eyes at him, only to have him thrust into you again, your ankles up to your ears while you tried to muffle your screams.

"i've heard you—before."

"w—what?" you sputtered out, your saliva dribbling down the corners of your mouth while your cunt clenched around his stupidly big dick.

"i've heard you a—almost moan my name before."

"fuck."

"you're gonna tell me when it's too much, alright?" 

you nodded against him, trying to bite back your noises while the room filled with sickening squelches, and toji's grunts filling the gaps of silence that echoed.

"f—fuck, what if kuna hears us—."

"let him." he let your legs down, his lips finding yours again, nipping at your skin while they cascaded downwards, soft lips kissing each and every little darkened bruise he'd left on your skin.

"even better."

"you're sick."

"well i'm not the one sleeping with my boyfriend's best friend, am i?"

"asshole." you laughed out while his pace quickened, his hands moving down to your core to thumb at your clit, knocking the words right out of your pretty lips while whispered filthy, filthy words into your ears.

"gods, you suck." 

"and you're screaming my name, doll, i must be doing something right."

—

with his ears pressed against the door, sukuna finally heard you scream the name you'd been trying not to yell while he was inside you.

and this time around, he was the pathetic one, fisting his poor, leaky cock to the sounds of his best friend putting you through the mattress.

—

you were tracing mindless patterns on toji's chest, his arm casually slung around you while he kissed your forehead, holding you close as if you'd disappear if he didn't and—

slam!

"sukuna—." you gasped out, trying to get the blanket to cover your naked form. like that'd make it any better that you just fucked toji.

"hey man."

"what the fuck."

"sukuna i swear i can explain—."

"oh, but there's no need to, doll." toji purred, pulling you back into the bed while sukuna was all but punching his nose in.

"toji what the fuck are you talking about—."

"y/n, he was listening in the whole time."

you looked around you for a second, your eyes finding sukuna's eventually cascading lower and lower until—.

"this never would've happened if you were better, right 'kuna?"

"oh fuck off, fushiguro."

sukuna moved towards you, kissing you like he never had before, his tongue finding its way into your mouth slowly while you sunk back into the mattress next to toji.

"if you were into this, i would've done it sooner, kuna."

"don't test it."

"shut the fuck up." you spat out. you knew you were in the wrong, going behind his back, essentially cheating on him, but whatever, right?

his fingers found your core immediately, thumbing at your already swollen clit while toji moved behind you, kissing the back of your neck, one arm finding its way around your throat while sukuna scissored you open.

"f—fuck it's too much."

you squirmed, while the two of them held you down, with toji pushing your thighs apart from behind you while sukuna moved lower and lower, his mouth finding your cunt, lapping up your slick mixed with toji's while you bit back a moan.

"gods she's pretty, isn't she?" toji cooed while sukuna shot a glare right at him, but remaining laser focused on making you cum on his face, his tongue moving against your folds when his lips eventually found your clit.

you could feel your vision going blank, your legs struggling to close around sukuna's head while toji continued to keep them apart, still pressing kisses to your neck while you came on sukuna's face, slick dripping down his chin while he licked it off his lips slowly.

you were slowly coming down from your high, panting in toji's lap right when—

"so what does this make us?" sukuna said, eyeing both you and toji on the edge of the bed.

"well, i guess we're about to find out." is all toji said before unbuckling his pants.

sorry if it’s ass ok.

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The bar has been refurbished since the last time you came here.

The overall layout is still generally the same; during your search for your friends, you’ve looked in the ladies’ room - still to the left of the bar, cramped, only two stalls, line way too long, though it isn’t the hospital powder pink it once was - and in the smoking area, thus far. The latter looks pretty much the same, although you admit they can’t really change that much; beneath your denim jacket, you’re still only wearing a minidress and boots and it’s fucking cold. 

Escaping back inside seems the best idea. Realistically, if they’re not there or in the restroom or here, in the main room with the bar, you may as well just get over it. There’s no signal in this place for you to text them either - there never has been - and you don’t want to leave this early. You can still have a good night. You undoubtedly know some of the people here anyway - hell, maybe you’ll find a man. 

It’s the overall vibe that’s changed more than anything else; you think they must be going for some sort of seventies concept now, while before it was largely unthemed. It seems to bring more customers like this - the place is packed full on a tacky illuminated dancefloor, no one dressed the part, though beneath the flashing lights and disco ball you can't really tell. It’s flashy, somewhat exciting; it’s why you decided to wear your vintage denim jacket, even if no one else was going to play along.

The drink you’ve been nursing is still over half full, so you bypass the bar and go straight to the dancefloor. The music doesn’t match the vibe either, but you’re not bothered, swaying in your spot to the random dance song they have playing and taking a generous gulp of the liquid to ease yourself in.

Okay, it definitely feels like a better time now. Perhaps the rebrand has had some effect. You move your hips, jacket falling down your bare shoulders before catching on the strap of your bag. 

Lost in your own world, you almost miss it as you turn around to look amongst the crowd; but no, clear as day, tall and attractive enough to make your heart stop - two men, one in baggy clothes and an obnoxious fur coat and one in tighter, flared jeans, long sleeve tight across a toned, broad chest, sipping on their drinks, staring at you like a pint of water in the middle of a desert. 

You see them after they see you. You’re not sure how long they’ve been looking at you, these two men, but god they’re fixated and it makes you stop too. They can’t look away, both of their gazes trailing down your body as you move and sway with your drink in your hand, and your breath catches in your throat - not that you’re complaining, though. They’re handsome, though you assume they came together and will be leaving together too, judging by the way they’re glued to each other’s sides. 

The taller one seems to have more of a grip on the situation than the other man, but they’re both intimidating, domineering. He whispers something in the other man’s ear, long fingers brushing at his neck. Their eyes still don't leave you though, and the shorter’s plump lips break into a grin, leering, too satisfied for someone who hasn’t even spoken to you - let alone touched you. He must’ve said something he likes. 

You can’t help yourself. You smile back, and he flicks a few dark blue strands out of his forehead, taking a sip of the liquid he’s got in his glass before he slams it down on the table decisively. He says something else to the other man, something you can’t even try to lip read because he turns his back to you. He gives him a cheeky smile, almost like he’s doing something wrong, and begins to push through the crowd on the dancefloor. You stand dead still.

You wonder about the situation between them. Clearly, they’re more than friends, and it seems like the taller is the one in control, but - what’s this? The shorter man is approaching you, his too-large brown fur coat seeming ridiculous in the heat of the bar, but you see as he gets closer that he’s got nothing but a waistcoat and baggy trousers underneath. He shoots a few amused looks back at the other man, who looks less than pleased at his misbehaving, but it doesn’t sway him - once he’s at you, he pulls you into him so your back is pressed against his front and whispers in your ear just loud enough for you to hear him.

“Wanna dance?”

Do you? Fuck yeah, you do - and with his partner too, if he’s up for grabs. For now though, you suppose one will have to do, because as you smile flirtatiously in response and the DJ changes the music to something else - something sultry, heavy, with a solid beat - the man starts to grind his hips so sensually you forget everything else. He’s good at this, angling you with a firm palm on the plush of your tummy, fingers wrapping in the fabric of your minidress so that your hips grind back against him. 

The fur of his coat is expensive, you can tell just by feeling it when your hands go back to grip on his arms, and his teeth bite into his bottom lip when you grab at him.He lets you balance yourself with your hold, his own hand moving up to your chest, both of you moving in a sinuous movement that has you realising how good he’d be in bed if he dances like this. 

Just before you forget, ring-clad knuckles come to the bottom of your chin and angle your head towards where you were previously looking. He’s still there, the other man, and this time he looks positively engrossed, arms folding over his chest - his eyes don’t leave the two of you, a smirk playing at his lips like he can’t quite believe it. It’s as if you’re performing for him, the two of you, nowhere near in control of the situation; you wonder what it is, this situation, and if it’ll end in you getting fucked by both of them.

The man next to you chuckles before fully humping into the curve of your ass, unashamed; the line of his cock presses against you, half hard, fat and steadily growing like you’re doing a lot more than just grinding on each other in a packed bar. You gasp, muffled by the music but he seems to have heard it despite the noise - he nudges his nose into your neck, impatient.

“We came together, me and him,” he says, tone casual though he has to shout a little to be heard. The words say everything despite being so few, but you don’t falter, hoping that you’re moving against him in a way that’s still inconspicuous enough to be passed off as a dance. “That okay?”

You shrug as casually as you can, skin starting to feel a little heated. This is the jackpot, you think. “I don’t mind taking two.”

“I bet you fuckin’ don’t.” He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t mind putting on a show either, do you? I’m Mingi, by the way.”

“Mm, hi Mingi,” you giggle, and Mingi shakes his head, disbelieving, a smile pulling at his lips. You can’t believe it either, quite frankly, how well the night’s turned out, and your head lolls back against his broad shoulder as you move, fur coat soft under your head, a grounding presence. The other man is still looking, and you find yourself drawn to his eyes, holding eye contact with him as you manage your next question, “what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

A hum, and then plump lips press a gentle kiss to your jaw. A shiver wracks through you, straight down your spine, and he does it again a few times just to watch the effect it has on you. “Yunho,” he breathes, “his name is Yunho. Shake this ass on me, let him see it.”

“He likes to watch, huh?” You say, as if you have any problem with it whatsoever. The song changes, a dance track with an even dirtier beat now and you do as he says - you’re shaking your hips to the rhythm before you can feel embarrassed about it, everyone around you too occupied with their own dancing or flirting. 

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he hums, hand moving from your front to your hips, fingers ghosting over the curve of your asscheeks where your hips get plusher and move into your thighs. Hands dig into flesh, and he groans, rutting against you once, twice, enough to have you squirming, starting to worry someone might notice. “Fuck, look at that. Shit, should we just take you back now? I wanna tear this ass apart.”

You can’t help it - you laugh again, hand coming to Mingi’s jaw to pull him forwards, his cheek pressed against yours. Yunho rolls his neck, tongue poking over his bottom lip before he’s placing his drink down and you think he’s made the decision for all three of you. 

 “And him?” You murmur.

Mingi’s nose brushes against your cheek. “He’ll tear you apart too. Might even be nastier than me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” His hips hit you just right, slow, to the beat, and you breathe heavily when he spins you around to face him like he’s going to kiss you. He’s pretty up close, sharp nose and dark blue hair and plump lips that form a predatory smile. “Fuck, Mingi, take me home.”

“Eager girl.” His head drops down, kissing you chastely square on the lips once, then twice. His lips are buttery soft and you chase them when he pulls away. He doesn’t care that you’re in public, so neither do you - you press yourself against him harder, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “We need to talk to Yunho.”

“No need.” Another voice, and another set of big, big hands that wrap around your waist and pull you back into him. You’re trapped between them now, because despite being unfamiliar with them you know who’s just gripped you and gotten involved. “She’s right, we should take her home. You’re an aching little thing, hm?”

Fingers dip up under the hem of your minidress where it hangs around your thighs, nails scratching against your skin, teasing. You’re not sure who it is this time, but the touch is so close to your panties that you whimper, the sound so broken that Yunho’s head dips into the other crook of your neck with a deep sigh, mirroring where Mingi continues to bite at you the other side. “P-please, I can’t take this anymore, I want you both, can we-”

“Fine,” Yunho breathes, exasperated, and a firm, guiding grip comes to rest on the back of your neck. “Let’s get you home, tiny.”

“On your knees.” A firm hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you down before you can decide to obey; you drop to your knees in your pretty dress, your legs bare, their carpet scratching against your skin. Like this, they’re looming over you in a different way than before, and all you can see is long, long legs in baggy jeans and firm torsos heaving - they’re waiting, perceiving you, seeing if you’ll do anything else. Yunho’s the first to speak again, grin wide when he turns to his partner, “that’s it. She’s pretty like this, isn’t she? Quiet, so needy she’ll do anything, waiting for us to just say.”

“She’s beautiful,” Mingi says, fingers pulling your hair backwards to force you to look up at them properly. “Slutty, too.”

You whimper, squirming in his grip, though not enough to be told off for it. You wonder if they’re hard already, fat lengths trapped in the confines of their pants, but you don’t have long to think about it - Yunho’s long fingers start working at his belt, and before long the leather is pulled out from the prongs and his button is being pushed open. 

It exposes his black boxers, and you realise you’re not even looking at him anymore. Fixated on his crotch, you wait, mouth open and spit pooling at your bottom lip like a drooling dog. They both sound amused, but they don’t make you wait, Yunho pushing down his boxers and revealing his tan shaft. 

Thick, long and veiny, it springs against his stomach. It curves upwards, tip a darker shade and swollen, but not leaking just yet. The moan leaves your throat before you can help it. If Yunho’s is like this, you can’t imagine the other man - but fingers tighten in your hair and redirect you back before you can even turn to try and get a lot. 

“Mm, no,” Yunho murmurs, and you look back up at him. He looks pleased by how enthralled you are, a smile pulling at his lips, and his hand comes down to slap his shaft against your cheek once, twice. You shiver. “You can show her yours too, Mingi, really get the slut going. She wants two at once, after all, don’t you?”

“I do, I want both.” You nod dumbly, pathetically; Mingi’s resulting groan is delighted, low in his throat. His tongue licks at his teeth as he works at his own belt, and his baggy jeans drop with a rustling noise at his ankles, unashamed. Yunho has tucked his boxers underneath his balls but Mingi’s less reserved, shunning his boxers as quick as he can as Yunho starts slowly stroking half of his shaft inches away from your face.

Fuck.

Mingi’s big too, a little shorter but thicker again and his tip is leaking like a fucking faucet. If he’d left his boxers on a little longer you’d have seen the drops beading upon the fabric but he’s too impatient for that, already stroking his cock quicker than Yunho, moving hip to hip with the other man. 

“You want both?” He smacks his cock against your other cheek, laughing delightedly when you moan, nodding eagerly. “Open your mouth then, there’s a good whore.”

You blink, in a daze. “I- I can’t fit both-”

“Obviously,” Yunho scoffs. “Use your hand for the other. Are you stupid?”

Oh. Something must show on your face, a wordless reaction to his words because Yunho’s grin turns predatory then, and when he grips your hair now it’s harsher, firmer than his boyfriend had done. You scramble to say something to quell this harshness, stammering, “N-not stupid, I’ve just never…”

Yunho bursts out laughing. Your gut clenches and your pussy burns in your panties, so slick and needy that you try to rut down the floor, to no avail. “Never had two cocks at once? We all know that’s a fucking lie, baby. I think you need to stop talking.”

He’s forcing you down on his cock before you can retort.

You still try to splutter something out despite your lips being wrapped taut, barely fitting just half his length into your mouth though he tries to fuck past the resistance of your throat anyway. Your words die in your throat, replaced by a strangled whine; Mingi grabs your hand himself, impatient and wraps your fingers around his cock - putting you to use.

He’s wet from his precum already, soaked and sticky and veiny and it makes a slick noise when you start to move your fingers. It’s hard to concentrate on both but thankfully you don’t have to do much thinking; Yunho fucks himself into your mouth for you, skin salty with his own precum. Unable to do anything more than just be a ragdoll for them, you allow yourself to slump a little, mouth wrapped tight around one and hand around the other, hips just barely squirming where you’re sat. A noise leaves your throat when Yunho fucks into the resistance a few times, a deep groan leaving his own mouth.

“Tight fucking throat, hm? How tight is that cunt gonna be?”

Mingi groans, and his fingertips press at your cheeks, feeling the thickness of Yunho’s cock through your skin. He manages to move you over to him, and his shaft burns when it stretches your lips apart, thicker, wetter - you start to drool with tears biting at your eyes and he chuckles breathlessly at the sight of you.

“You like it mean, huh?” He doesn’t expect a response, voice gravelly as he starts to fuck your mouth. He’s sloppier than Yunho, a little more careless, and the strangled noise you make is embarrassing when he forces his cock all the way down. It hurts your throat but he presses your nose into the tuft of his pubes like he doesn’t really care, grinding his hips against your jaw, fingers pressing at your throat where he now bulges it instead.

When you manage to look up through a glassy gaze, you see them both together. Mingi captures Yunho’s lips with his own, one hand leaving you to cup the other man’s jaw, their tongues intertwining messily between spit-slick lips. They both groan, deep and from their chests like they’ve been waiting for this all night - your whine is louder though, nails scratching at their thighs because you’ve wanted to see it since you saw them together on the dancefloor. It forces saliva to bubble down your occupied lips, dripping over your chin and down to your throat, over Mingi’s rings.

If they’re amused by your reaction, they don’t separate for long enough to show it. Yunho tugs you to him again without even glancing your way, long fingers in your hair, and this time you’re able to get a momentum. Your mouth sinks down on him before he has time to force you there, your other hand coming to grasp Mingi’s slippery length, the saliva giving more than enough lubricant when you start to pump. 

Like this - not being yanked around - you’re able to focus, and you can’t help the noises that spill from your chest; your pussy is wet, drooling and dumb already, and they continue to make out above your head like it’s nothing that should affect you. Your gut burns, wrenching with need and want and something embarrassing because all you’ve done is suck their cocks and you’re this desperate, but it doesn’t stop you trying to get their attention.

Tongue digging into the underside of Yunho’s tip, you pool spit into your mouth and it bubbles over your lips messily, letting you sink back down on him with a wetter, tighter suction. He’s still too big to take too much comfortably but you force your mouth down, jaw be damned, hand occupied with another cock that you think you’re doing a decent rhythm with, and on the upwards stroke you press your tongue into his piss slit and suck hard.

It works. You hear the sharp inhale of breath, and he pulls away sharply from Mingi, lips parting in a louder noise just as the blue haired man moves to messily press open-mouthed kisses against his neck. He doesn’t stop him, one hand going to his head to hold him there.

“Dirty girl, knew you had it in you,” he murmurs, before his jaw goes slack in a groan, head rolling back where Mingi kisses him. Your hand has paused on the other man but if he’s annoyed, he doesn’t show it, shaft bobbing uselessly as he bites at the curvature of Yunho’s neck with his eyes on you, where you’re kneeling below them. “Bet she’s all gooey down there from sucking cock, too. Little hole clenching around nothing, slicking up her thighs, clit all swollen and hard.”

Mingi grunts, a primal noise. “Can’t wait to look. Taste it, too. I know it’s fuckin’ pretty, all soaked and tight and- ah, fuck this, I gotta-”

Two hands underneath your armpits, and you’re thrown chest first onto the comfortable bed by a very strong grip. You have enough space left in your brain for the moment to present yourself, pushing up onto your knees and letting your front lay flat to curve your spine - Mingi groans in appreciation, wasting no time before he’s pulling your dress up to your waist and your panties down to your knees. 

The cold air hits your cunt and you moan, trying to turn your head to the side to have a look at what he’s about to do to you before someone - you’re unsure who - pins it right back down, flat, suffocating. 

“Let me have a look,” Mingi coos, and two thumbs come to pull your sticky folds apart. You’re soaked, you can feel it - it’s smeared up to your asshole from how you’ve pooled in your panties, and though you hope he hasn’t noticed it, hasn’t gotten any ideas, a deeper part of you hopes he ignores your pussy and eats that hole instead. “She’s so fuckin’ messy. Fat little cunt too. When did you start leaking like a virgin, baby? When you were on your knees in front of our cocks, us stood above you like we fuckin’ own you?”

You can’t reply - again, you don’t think he wants you to. Is he even talking to you, or is he talking to her?

It was Yunho that pushed you down, you realise, because it’s the same second pair of hands that slide the straps of your dress down over your shoulders. Nudging the fabric down so that it all bunches at your waist, he scratches his fingernails over your spine on the way down, leaving you bare but feeling quite like something animalistic. 

“Mm, actually…” A nose nudges at your core and then a tongue, fat and steady, is sliding through your folds and humming when he tastes your arousal, smacking his lips messily like he’s eating a good meal. “You’ve been wet even longer, haven’t you? Since we danced in the bar. Oh, that’s something. How pent up are you, sweetheart?”

You whine. There’s no way he could know that, not really, and you know he’s just teasing you but he’s right - you were.

He continues, wet tongue moving to lick circles over your clit as he slurs. “Can’t blame you, ‘m desperate for this too.”

“Stop talking and eat.” Yunho sounds amused. “Poor thing looks like she’s gonna die if she doesn’t get something.”

At least it makes Mingi move, his lips smacking wet over your pussy before his tongue slides through the plush of your folds. The bridge of his nose is sharp when it bumps into your perineum, his tongue tracing your hole before it pushes inside and he savours your arousal from the inside with a deep, gravelly moan, something that ricochets through you and makes you finally beg.

“Yuyu,” You sound broken, too needy to think, and you feel it too - your head spins and you know you haven’t done well verbalising it but Yunho somehow knows what you need, sliding two long fingers past your lips for you to suck on. It doesn’t help, Mingi’s plush lips kissing down to your clit and making a home there, tongue darting underneath the hood to rub over you so intimately that you would never be able to stop the way you buck. Your hips fuck back onto his face but his strong forearm hooks around your tummy to keep you steady, your eyebrows furrowing in a subdued keen.

Yunho smiles, fucking his fingers into your mouth, watching the way you suck earnestly like it’s a cock - can you even tell the difference right now? It’s like you can see the wonder on his face before he speaks, cock half hard against his thigh, “Do you need something inside, honey?”

Your resulting noise is loud, deep from your chest - you’d forgotten that was an option with the way his boyfriend’s lips are working over you, but before you can beg properly the man grunts, lips leaving you for a moment.

“I’m gettin’ her ready for you, babe. She can wait.”

“Mm.” Yunho raises an eyebrow, confused, although his fingers leave your lips and brush over the base of his tummy almost instantly. “You don’t wanna go first? You were desperate a second ago-”

“Are you kidding me?” Mingi grins, all teeth that nip into your thigh as an afterthought, making you squeak. He ignores you, continuing like you can’t hear him, “a pussy like this is even better when it’s been nutted in already. I love me some sloppy seconds.”

Before you can raise any kind of objection to being talked about like that, right over you while he’s between your legs, Mingi’s tongue dives back between your folds. He licks up your arousal and drools onto your heat, pushing further up, where his hands spread your cheeks and expose the smaller hole, the one that makes your face flush and gut wrench in embarrassment. 

“Bet you’d let us fuck this too,” he grumbles, and you nod, squirming in your place, as much as you can with the way his boyfriend’s pushing you down. “How fucking filthy. You just met us and you’d already let us fuck your asshole open. God, you’re amazing, might be fuckin’ made for us.”

Something bubbles in your gut, something so needy that you can’t help the garbled wail you let out. It’s incoherent at first, but Yunho lets your head move just enough to verbalise what you need to, “Want you both, anything, please, please, give me cock-”

“Give me cock,” Yunho giggles, shaking his head in disbelief. “What a bimbo. Fine, I’ll give you cock, honey. Mingi, lemme move her.”

Mingi obeys instantly, pulling away from your slick cunt and thighs, letting you be manhandled again by the taller man onto your side. You know this one, deep in your lust-muddled brain, and you let one leg slide forward to display your core as he slides behind you, chest to your back. He’s fully naked now - you’re not sure when this happened - and the palm he smooths your hair down with grounds you a little, other hand moving secure on your tummy.

“Y’want it?” He murmurs, and you see Mingi moving next to you, naked, muscled, distracting - your mouth waters. His eyes move down your body, over your flushed cheeks, teary eyes and down to your nipples, the curve of your tummy and the swell of your thighs; his hand moves to his cock, and you see his gaze move down Yunho, too, before he finally grips the base and starts to move up the vast length. Yunho’s fingers tighten in your hair a little, bringing your attention back to him. “Don’t get distracted, tiny. Talk to me. Do you want it?”

He moves his cock to the mess between your legs, pushing through arousal to get to your folds and at the resistance of your hole. The weight of it makes you gasp wetly, but he doesn’t let you squirm away when you try, only pulling you back into it. 

“S-So big, Yunho, I want it, please.”

“There you go, good little slut,” He coos, satisfied, and pushes just the first inch in. Your hole clenches tight from the stretch, almost pushing him back out and he groans, using his grip on your thigh to pull you back onto it. “Let me in, baby.”

“C-Can’t help it, ah-“

Something shifts in him then, and the next thrust of his cock is stronger, meaner, something that makes your walls give way to more of him, accompanied by a sharp bite to your neck. It hurts a little but it feels so good; your eyes roll back in your head with a keen, and Mingi huffs out a breath.

“Oh, little bitch is so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, one palm coming to push your leg upwards, against your side, trying to open you up further. It doesn’t help - he’s just far too big, your pussy tightening in protest despite how bad you fucking want it. “Do I have to split your hole open to get inside? Funny, ‘cause it’s fucking drooling around me like it can’t get enough.”

One of his hands comes to rest on your breast, idle but firm, and his thumb swipes over your nipple just to make you gasp. You try to fuck yourself downwards but he really is too big, cockhead already hitting your cervix and it knocks the wind out of you. Mingi’s hand tightens on an upwards stroke of his shaft and he smiles, amused, eyes flicking between you and his boyfriend.

“Let him in, sweetheart. He’ll make it hurt.”

You try your best; squirming and whining in Yunho’s hold you manage to slack your gummy walls enough for him to push more of his cock inside but it makes you squeal, too much all of a sudden, and his fingers move from your chest to your clit. His nails dig into it and you gasp, writhing away before his grip pulls your back to his chest again. 

“What the fuck is this for if I can’t fuck it? Useless little cunt otherwise, hm? Maybe I should just pull out, leave you-”

“No, nonono, please, Yunho,” You babble, moving around enough that it forces more of his length in. This time he seems to push past something that allows him to sink in balls deep, and it’s so far inside, pressing at your cervix and you think you might cum already.

Yunho huffs, placated now that you’ve let him in, yanking you backwards by your ass, letting the plumpness of it rock him into a bounce. It works, and he starts to fuck you steady, slow at first, letting you get used to it - his knuckles graze at your nipple before he pinches meanly, a breathless, chuckle of pleasure leaving him at your jolt.

“Fu-uck, ‘s so- need more, more, please-”

“More?” He asks, like he didn’t know, and you nod dumbly. You’re shocked by Mingi responding, not Yunho; walking on his knees towards you, his fingers come to your clit and roll it between his fingertips. It’s too much all of a sudden, and Yunho starts to speed up, his long, ridged shaft cutting into your gummy walls. Mingi’s ministrations make your pussy easier, more slack, and Yunho’s able to fuck quicker, cock not prohibited by how tight you’re squeezing around him. “That’s it. There you go, Min, cocksleeve’s gushing like a little whore now.”

“Mm, can feel it,” The man in question murmurs, eyes fixated on you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Your eyebrows knit in pleasure, lips parting in a squeal when his thumb rubs over your bud firmly, and this time you feel it, the slick, sticky gush of your pussy with every thrust. It leaks over Mingi’s fingers and further down, to your thighs, Yunho’s balls and his own lithe legs. 

You feel dumb with it all, and you’re not even halfway through taking one. 

“Feels nice like that, doesn’t it?” Yunho sounds unaffected, and you whimper, nodding, “I can tell. Dirty cunt gushing like that, I’d swear you came already.”

Mingi leans down on the bed, distracting you momentarily before there’s something wet pressing at your clit. It’s his tongue, you realise, and you can’t control the hand that goes to that dark blue hair - he moans at the feeling of your fingers tightening, tugging, and you force his mouth closer, wet lips mouthing over your pussy until he hits Yunho’s cock. 

“Shit, that’s so-” you gasp, hips bucking, “oh, I- fuck, I’ll cum, please-”

Mingi’s tongue moves over you again, licking over the intrusion of his boyfriend inside of you. It doesn’t stop his movement, his cock still pistoning in and out while you’re forced to take, take, take, and when the shorter man’s lips purse and suck on your bud you writhe away, pleasure all-consuming.

Your orgasm hits you hard, beginning in the base of your tummy and making your thighs shake. One hand holds Mingi steady, and the other moves to Yunho’s side, anchoring you through it, but your pussy clenches dumbly in a rhythm that makes the man inside grunt and bite your neck sharply. Your own noises are abused, loud and too incriminating, but neither men make a move to quiet you.

“Ride it out, c’mon,” Yunho says, voice hoarse, and you find it in your static body to fuck yourself on both men while your legs lock and your toes curl. “Good girl. There you go, that’s it.”

It helps, quelling the strong climax into something steadier, nicer, and Mingi’s tongue flicks over your clit just enough for you to come down from it. 

The kiss the older man gives you is controlled, a little awkward from the angle but it tells you everything you need to know. You’re safe, you’re looked after and it’s exactly what you need after an orgasm that strong - his nose bumps your cheek when he kisses you deeper, giving you a few pecks as he pulls away; it makes you want more, but he’s already moving.

You realise too late that Yunho still hasn’t finished, and he pushes you onto your front, leg still slightly raised from the way he had you. His hips hit your ass as he bottoms out again, and you gasp - it’s so deep, so much that you want him to cum soon, hope he’ll cum soon and fill you up, and you remember you have another one to take after this. The realisation makes your pussy clench as he fucks inside and he lets out a stuttered breath against your shoulder, bumpy nose nudging at your jaw.

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, and you nod, whimper soft. “I’m gonna cum soon, baby. Gonna make you take it, ‘kay? Then Mingi’s gonna fuck it back into you.”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, and when Yunho starts to thrust again, punishing, Mingi seals your lips with his and swallows your noises. He kisses messy, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and he lets you suck on his tongue when you need something in your mouth again, not minding at all that your hands scramble at his broad shoulders for purchase.

You feel Yunho pull backwards, hands on the small of your back to hold you down, and it’s the sight of you and his boyfriend kissing that does him in. He gasps, letting out a shaky breath as he presses his hips tight to the plush of your ass, cockhead fucked so deep that it makes you try to squirm away again; Mingi keeps you still, giving you dirty, open-mouthed kisses and licking over your teeth.

Between your legs, you feel thoroughly used - when Yunho pulls out, cock softening a little, your pussy gushes fresh cum and as if it’s his queue, Mingi’s already moving over.

Yunho slaps your ass as he moves away from you, “Atta girl. She’s ready for you, Min.”

Fingers prod at your swollen hole, messy, creamy rivulets slicking down to Mingi’s rings as he spreads it open and inspects. If you had anything left in you, you’d feel embarrassed at the way he’s looking at you so intimately but well, he’s already done it once and you’re still horny. You shift back on the bed and chase his touch when he moves away, although you don’t have long to be disappointed because the feeling of a blunt cockhead against you makes you push your hips up, front going slack again.

“Look at that. Dumb slut knows how to present for a cock,” Mingi chuckles, although there’s no real bite to his words - his breath is shaky as he shuffles towards you, and seconds later there’s inches of fat cock spearing you open because he can’t wait himself at this point.

“O-oh,” You stutter, head raising and knocking back. You see Yunho, in front of you now, face so close to yours but it’s comforting rather than threatening. “Fuck, it’s-”

“Ssh, just feel it,” Yunho murmurs, stroking your cheek with one, big hand, and your eyes roll back into your head when he starts to thrust. His movements are deep and slow at first, letting you feel all of it, every vein and ridge and you swear you feel him leaking inside, too, when he pushes deep and pulls you flush against him like he isn’t fucking your pussy open in front of his boyfriend.

Mingi whines, sharp, “Tiny little pussy, so small, fuck-” his fingers hook around your shoulders, pulling you back onto him, “how are you still so fucking tight?” Your own hands scramble in the sheets until your fingers hook into them for leverage, and you writhe, moaning so viscerally that Yunho pets your hair to calm you down. Mingi’s thicker than him so despite taking the older man first, the stretch of your hole to accommodate him has your eyes watering, his hips stuttering into the creamy mess of a hole that his boyfriend left. “Can I- fuck, I can’t, I can’t, can’t play anymore-“

“Mingi,” Yunho warns, but it’s softened by the grin curling his lips, fond.

“Can’t, fuck, baby, I love your pussy,” Mingi babbles, and his hands move to your asscheeks, spreading them further, watching where his cock disappears into you. It’s slick when he starts to move, a creamy ring around the base of his cock, wet plaps echoing around the bedroom when his balls begin to hit your clit steadily. “Love- love it, love it everytime- I love you.”

Something dawns on you. You’re not playing anymore, not really, not the elaborate scene Yunho came up with late at night before you headed out to the bar you three met at - and your back bows towards the bed, curling away from your boyfriends, 

“Mmgh- I love you too,” You whimper, scrambling on the sheets for your third, your other boy. Fingers intertwine with yours immediately and he kisses your hairline, your nose, your lips; you cry out, head lolling against his. “Yunho- Yuyu, Yuyu, love you-“

“I love both of you, although you’re both fucking pathetic,” Yunho laughs, smoothing your hair. “Can’t even roleplay properly. Both of you cry like virgins as soon as I let him get inside of you.”

Mingi’s head drops to your shoulder, his weight pinning you down when he collapses atop of you. You’re separated from Yunho but you don’t mind at all when he starts to drill you properly - this is his favourite position, after all, it didn’t matter if it was you or Yunho underneath him. 

His hips don’t stop moving, pistoning into your cunt where you’re flat on the bed, his lips parting in a deep groan, “Pussy’s too good to think. Sorry, Yunho, p-promise it was hot.”

He’s not sorry at all, you all know that. Yunho scoffs. “I know it was. You two acting like sluts on that fuckin’ dancefloor, just like you were all those years ago. Hard, leaking, wet in your pants looking at me. I could see how horny you were.”

“Mmhm,” Mingi nods, delirious. You’re not able to respond, chest clenching in pathetic wails every time he pushes deep, fucking the noises out of you, and his hand moves to your back, soothing over your spine until he slaps your ass hard just for the sake of it. “G-Good little toy, that’s right, don’t have to speak, just take it. Good girl.”

He’s babbling again, nonsensical, praises and degradation into one - he’s always the same, and it always makes you gush easy for him. Yunho slides your hair out of your face, exposing flushed cheeks and spit slick lips, your eyes crossed with pleasure. The sight of you makes them both groan, and the older man plants a gentle slap on your cheek, gripping your jaw when you gasp.

“Fucked dumb,” He muses. “How pretty. Why don’t you cry a little for him, hm? You know he loves that.”

“It’s so much,” you manage, and he nods, cooing at you. It’s that which finally breaks you, and your chest bubbles with a sob, ripped harshly from you. “‘S so much, I can’t- can’t take it, daddy, please!”

They laugh at you again, you hear them, though Mingi’s is a lot more in awe than the other man’s. 

“Who’s your daddy, baby?” Yunho’s asking you, and it’s something he asks you often but it feels like you’re trying to move across clouds to respond to him. Everything’s so soft, comforting but your pussy continues to get rammed, overwhelmed, and you squeal, legs knocking together when you feel his thrusts start to get harsher but staggered. 

“B-both of you.” You slur. “Both- daddy, fill me up too-”

It ignites something in Mingi - he pulls out, gripping himself at the creamy base and flipping you over by your waist again. You’re on your back now, able to see them both, your boys; Yunho has that cheeky glint in his eyes that you love, looming over you with a half-hard cock and tousled, boyish hair - if you didn’t know him, you would trust him. 

Mingi distracts you, crowding into your space with furrowed eyebrows, thick thighs knocking your legs apart again before he sinks back inside. Yunho laughs at his impatience, hand smoothing over the younger man’s back as he starts to fuck you again and you know he’s really gonna cum now, moving so fast and hard that you both get knocked up the mattress a little.

You keen, “Fucking- oh, oh, that’s-“

“Language,” Yunho’s hand moves and pinches your thigh, and you wince, legs locking around Mingi. He pins you back down and then moves his focus to your clit, rolling it between his fingers; it’s so wet that it feels too good too quickly. “Gonna cum, aren’t you, baby?”

Your eyes roll back into your head when his fingers move over you instead, firmer, rubbing circles that make you heave, trying to catch your breath. Unable to answer him again, he hums, displeased.

That’s right, you almost forgot. He lets you get away with some things earlier but you don’t act like that around him, not really, only when you’re pretending like you don’t know them. Now, you know them, and there are rules - that also means you beg to cum, and you thank whatever higher powers there be because you remember before you fall off the edge.

“Please,” You struggle, nails scratching at both of them again, their arms this time, “please, please let me cum. Daddy, daddy, please-“

Mingi growls, fixated, “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, you better cum with me, tiny.”

“There you go, honey. Your daddy said you can,” Yunho says, almost too sweet for you to believe but no, they did say that, and you’re squealing from it before they can take it back. 

You gush again, fluttering and writhing where you lay and halfway through it, Mingi nudges the dark haired man’s head to press his cheek against yours at an angle and kisses you both. 

Barely knowing what to do in your haze, they hold you still, tongues both messily sliding over yours, over each other - the man inside of you whimpers, thrusting harshly one last time, gasping against your mouths before he fills you with a fresh wave of cum. His cock throbs with it, pumping into you and when he can’t take it anymore he collapses, head on your chest, full weight a little overwhelming. 

Yunho kisses you a few times, fingertips moving to rub soft circles into your shoulders, your upper arms, before moving across your boyfriend’s scalp, massaging him too. He moans gratefully, exhausted, and you feel the same - your limbs are stiff and you groan when Mingi finally rolls off, slumping next to you in the wet sheets.

“I’ll just be cleaning you up, honey.” Yunho’s voice is gentler, and you hum, a smile creeping on your face - there he is, always in control. Mingi mumbles something that you don’t quite catch, arm hooking around your tummy, but your boyfriend hears him, chuckling, “That was referring to you, too.”

You want to laugh. “Don’t tell me he was trying to move.”

Yunho shifts closer, wet towel suddenly soft against your skin, and when you finally open your eyes he’s there, still naked, cock soft against his thigh and you wonder if he came again, sometime during it all. “Like I said, both of you fuck like virgins. Dead afterwards. Perished, even.”

You can’t argue. You’re not planning on moving any time soon; although the sheets are ruined, you’re exhausted after all that. The boys’ roleplay ideas are always crazy but well, there’s some that get a bit out of hand, like recreating the night you all met.

For the second time, Mingi grumbles nonsensically next to you. Yunho kisses the mole on the younger man’s cheek before kissing your hairline again. 

“Speaking of perished,” He murmurs, eyes shifting down to you playfully, putting on a dramatic voice, “I still think the next scene should be me, as Spider-Man, saving you and Min from possible perish-“

“Enough,” You grumble, kicking him softly with your foot. “Go to sleep.”

His laugh is so loud it makes Mingi kick him too, half-asleep, but then he really does settle, towel discarded on the floor. As if he was waiting for his presence to drop off properly, the younger man squirms closer on the mattress and reaches over you to tug Yunho in, pulling you into a pile, legs intertwined and a little sticky. It’s soothing though, naked and cuddling with your men, and Mingi starts to snore almost instantly.

The man plastered to your back sighs, though you know he’s not really bothered. “Sleep? With that?”

You huff, “Then just talk to me, duh.”

“Duh. You can actually just watch me play video games, if you want. Remember, my new monitor came yesterday, it’s curved and sexy and it’ll show you everything in-“

The bathroom mirror caught him mid-smirk. Wooyoung leaned in, running his fingers through his hair until it fell into just the right balance of I don’t care and I spent ten minutes making it look like this. His shirt collar was open, chain glinting against his skin, and he tilted his head, testing how the club lights might catch him later.

“Not bad, Woo,” he muttered under his breath, flashing his reflection a wink before pushing out the door.

The bass swallowed him immediately. It thumped through the soles of his shoes, rattled in his ribs, and wrapped around him like an old friend. Strobes of red and purple painted the crowd in fragments, sweat and perfume mixing into a haze that clung to the air.

On his way to the bar, he collected glances the way other people collected phone numbers. A smirk here, a lazy wave there—every movement choreographed like he’d rehearsed it, though everyone knew he hadn’t.

A pretty brunette caught his eye and held it. Wooyoung let the corner of his mouth curl, slow and deliberate, the kind of smile that promised trouble. She ducked her head, blushing, and he chuckled under his breath as he moved on.

Two steps later, a girl spun past him in a blur of sequins. Wooyoung’s hand shot out, catching her wrist just long enough to twirl her into a messy spin. She squealed, laughter spilling out as she stumbled back into her group of friends. He bowed low, theatrically, before straightening and tossing her a salute that earned him another round of giggles.

The crowd seemed to part for him, not out of awareness but out of sheer momentum. He slid through bodies with practiced ease, grin sharp and playful, his attention skipping from one target to the next. When he spotted a blonde tangled up with her boyfriend, he didn’t even hesitate. He sent her a wink so pointed the guy stiffened and pulled her closer, glaring. Wooyoung’s grin only widened, satisfaction written all over his face as he carried on without missing a beat.

By the time he reached the bar, he looked like he’d walked off a stage—shoulders loose, eyes glinting, his signature mischievous smirk firmly in place.

Leo was already there, sleeves rolled up, knocking on the counter to get the bartender’s attention. A tray of shot glasses clinked into place just as Wooyoung slid up beside him, elbow hooking onto the counter like he owned the whole damn club.

“Perfect timing, Woo.” Leo said, passing him a glass.

Wooyoung lifted it in salute, eyes glinting under the neon. “Perfect? Leo, I was born for perfect timing.”

He clinked his glass against Leo’s with exaggerated ceremony, then against every other glass in reach—even some that didn’t belong to their group. The girl next to him blinked down at her drink, confused, while Wooyoung just winked and knocked his shot back in one go.

“God, you’re insufferable,” Leo muttered, though his grin betrayed him.

“Insufferably handsome, insufferably charming, insufferably—” Wooyoung cut himself off to slap Leo’s back hard enough to make him cough. “—lucky to be celebrating your graduation with me.”

Leo rolled his eyes, downing his own shot with far less flair. “Pretty sure I was the one who graduated, not you.”

“Semantics.” Wooyoung waved his empty glass like a trophy, signaling the bartender for another round. “I survived four years of hearing you whine about professors, deadlines, and existential dread. I deserve a medal. Or at least tequila.”

The bartender slid another row of shots their way, and Wooyoung immediately claimed two. He handed one to Leo and raised the other, voice booming like he was on a stage instead of at a sticky club bar.

“To the man of the hour!” he announced, drawing cheers from strangers around them. “And to his endlessly supportive, ridiculously good-looking best friend.”

“Your ego needs its own drink,” Leo said, but he couldn’t stop himself from laughing as their glasses clinked again.

Wooyoung grinned, tilting his head. “Hey, don’t hate the player, bro. Hate the game.”

“The only game here,” Leo said, smirking, “is how many people you’re going to charm before you pass out on my couch tonight.”

Wooyoung raised an eyebrow, mock-offended. “Excuse me? I am a refined gentleman. I only flirt with consenting, attractive women.” He paused, leaning closer. “And maybe one very specific, impossibly distracting woman I met some time ago…”

Leo laughed, shaking his head. “Poor girl whoever she is… must be tough, having a charming womanizer after her.”

Wooyoung leaned in slightly, lowering his voice in a conspiratorial whisper, his grin mischievous. “Ah… I know she can handle it. Most people can’t keep up, but she’s different. Smart, sharp… not easily impressed… And she drives me nuts.”

Leo’s eyes narrowed, trying to figure out who he meant, but Wooyoung leaned back, tossing his hair and winking at the bartender. “Anyway… enough about mysterious admirers. More shots?”

Hours slipped by in a blur of music, strobe lights, and the constant pulse of the bass. Wooyoung was in his element, moving through the crowd like he owned every step of the floor. Drink in hand, he danced with a fluid charm, twirling a girl who laughed too loudly, leaning in just enough to make her think he was interested… then sliding away before it could go any further.

Leo was more of an observer, occasionally nudging Wooyoung to drink or laugh a little louder, but mostly letting him run the show. Wooyoung winked at a brunette on the edge of the dance floor, letting her think there was something more behind his gaze, but he never stayed long enough for any real connection to spark.

Every flirt, every laugh, every brush of a hand was calculated — a performance. A mask he wore flawlessly around Leo, around the club, around anyone who might look too closely.

By the time the clock hit a ridiculous hour, the drinks had stacked, and the energy of the crowd began to wane. Wooyoung, still smiling, still teasing, still moving with effortless charm, finally made his way back to Leo, letting a brief sigh escape that no one could hear over the music.

The music throbbed in their chests as Wooyoung and Leo pushed their way toward the exit, the crowd parting like water around them. The blonde from earlier sidled up to him, hips swaying as she pressed a little closer.

“You’re leaving already?” she purred, voice low, the kind of playful tease that usually had him hooked in seconds. “Why don’t you come back to my place? We can… continue the party.”

Wooyoung tilted his head, giving her the faintest smirk, like he’d just been presented with a puzzle too simple to bother with. “Ah… tempting,” he said, voice smooth, teasing. “But I have… a very important early meeting with a—friend. Yeah, a friend.”

The girl raised an eyebrow. “You always this… careful?”

He leaned just close enough to brush a fingertip against her arm, his grin mischievous. “Careful? Darling, I’m reckless… selectively.”

She frowned, clearly trying to parse what he meant, and before she could think of another angle, he added, with the kind of cocky charm only he could pull off: “But tonight? I think the universe insists I’m too busy for trouble.”

Her lips pursed, finally realizing the game was up. “Well… fine. Maybe next time, then.”

Wooyoung waved her off casually, the kind of casual that made her feel like she’d just lost the most charming man in the room, and slipped past her to meet Leo at the curb.

The curb was a blur of taxi lights and stumbling partygoers. Leo flagged down a cab, sliding in first with a grin. “So… the blonde,” he said, glancing at Wooyoung with a teasing sparkle in his eye. “She just… vanished, huh? Don’t tell me you actually passed her up.”

Wooyoung tossed his jacket over the seat, leaning back with that same devil-may-care grin. “Passed her up? Please. She’s… temporary entertainment. Not exactly the kind of challenge I’m interested in.”

Leo raised an eyebrow. “Temporary entertainment, huh? Is that what you tell them all?”

“Depends,” Wooyoung said smoothly, sliding one arm across the back of the seat. “Some are fun distractions, some aren’t worth the headache. Tonight? She’s… forgettable.”

Leo chuckled, shaking his head. “Right. ‘Forgettable.’ Sure, that’s your story.”

Wooyoung smirked, eyes glinting in the passing streetlights. “Hey, I’ve got a reputation to maintain. Can’t have people thinking I fall for every pretty smile that crosses my path.”

The cab travelled around the streets, the city lights streaking past, and Leo, still curious, didn’t push further. Wooyoung had said enough—smooth, untouchable, untangled. And yet, beneath that mask, something unspoken lingered.

Minutes later, Leo slid the apartment key into the lock and pushed the door open, gesturing for Wooyoung to step in first. The air inside was warm from the summer night, softened by the faint hum of the city outside. Bare feet padded against the cool hardwood as they dropped their shoes by the entrance, the familiar ritual of home making everything feel… quieter.

They moved toward the kitchen, but a soft sound froze Wooyoung mid-step. There, sprawled on the couch, was y/n. Her body had melted into the cushions, her loose tank top and shorts shifting with the breeze drifting through the open windows. The summer air lifted stray strands of her messy hair across her face, and the TV cast soft, flickering light that traced the contours of her closed eyes and parted lips.

Wooyoung’s pulse stuttered, though he didn’t dare let it show. A couple of empty beer bottles and a half eaten pizza sat on the coffee table, evidence of her earlier indulgence, yet despite the casual disarray, she looked… ethereal. Peaceful. Beautiful in a way that made his chest tighten.

He leaned closer, careful not to disturb her, letting his eyes linger for just a beat longer than necessary. Her legs peeked out from under the loose shorts, pale in the dim light, and for a fleeting moment, he had to remind himself to breathe.

“Shhh,” Leo whispered, nudging him gently. “Kitchen. Quick water. Then couch.”

Wooyoung nodded, forcing his usual mischievous grin back into place as they made their way to the sink. He filled two glasses of water, the cool liquid soothing after the night of drinking. Leo excused himself to his room, leaving Wooyoung alone for a moment.

And there she was again in his mind. He was supposed to sleep on the couch tonight… but after seeing her like that, after feeling the quiet pull she always had on him, what exactly was he supposed to do?

The soft clink of Leo’s room door signaled his return, a pair of pajama pants and a simple t-shirt dangling from one hand.

“Here,” he said, tossing them toward Wooyoung. “Figured you’d want to change before claiming the couch.”

Wooyoung caught them with one hand, smirking. “Thanks… I’ll take the honor of wearing your hand-me-downs.”

Leo rolled his eyes, grinning. “Try not to trip over yourself while putting them on.”

Wooyoung slipped off his oversized jeans and shirt and shrugged into the clothes, the fabric loose and comfortable. “Mmm, luxury,” he murmured, stretching like a cat. “Why don’t we all just live in pajamas?”

Leo snorted. “Because we wouldn’t survive the fashion police.”

Wooyoung laughed, loud and genuine, the sound echoing in the apartment.

Then, Leo’s expression suddenly shifted, animated as he remembered something from earlier. “I can’t stop thinking about that guy at the club trying to impress everyone with his breakdancing… He ended up smacking his own drink all over some poor girl. Priceless!”

Wooyoung doubled over, slapping a hand against the counter. “Oh my god! And didn’t he try to save face by blaming that girl’s boyfriend taking all the space? Poor girl...”

By the time they got to the punchline, both were snorting and wheezing, barely able to breathe, tears welling up in their eyes. Wooyoung threw his head back, laughter booming through the apartment, the sound still carrying a trace of the night’s reckless fun.

A soft stir came from the couch. Wooyoung’s laughter faltered just slightly as he realized y/n’s eyes were blinking open, hair falling across her face, one hand rubbing at her eyes as she slowly adjusted to the dim lights and two drunken idiots in the kitchen.

“What on earth are you two doing?” she demanded, voice still groggy but sharp, carrying that edge that made people listen.

Wooyoung froze mid-laugh, sweatpants-clad legs stiffening. His grin faltered slightly, and his usual loud, chaotic energy softened. “Uh… celebrating… graduation?” he offered weakly, trying to reclaim some of his swagger.

“Celebrating?” y/n echoed, voice rising just enough to make him flinch. “It’s nearly three in the morning, and you’re making a ruckus in my apartment? Do you even hear yourselves?”

Leo snickered behind him, but Wooyoung’s attention was entirely on her. Her glare wasn’t angry like it could have been with anyone else—it was commanding, precise, and it made something stir low in his chest.

“I… yes, ma’am,” he muttered, the smirk returning only slightly, replaced by something softer, more obedient. “We’ll be… quieter. Very, very quiet.”

y/n crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch. “You better be. And don’t even think about waking me again tonight, mister.”

Wooyoung’s grin shifted into something almost sheepish. “Yes, ma’am,” he repeated, voice lower this time, a little rougher, like he was tasting both rebellion and surrender at once.

Leo chuckled, whispering with a grin, “Wow… she actually shut you up.”

Wooyoung shot him a look over his shoulder, eyes darkening playfully. “Shut up, Leo.” But his fingers tightened slightly on the edge of the counter, a subtle echo of the rush he always got when y/n took control like this.

y/n finally rose from the couch, stretching just enough to remind Wooyoung of her effortless grace. “You two should get some sleep,” she said, voice carrying that calm authority she always had when she meant business. She grabbed her phone from the coffee table and walked toward her bedroom, the soft swish of her movement leaving a quiet trace in the apartment.

Wooyoung blinked, stiffening slightly, assuming her sharp glare had meant she was truly annoyed. “Great,” he muttered under his breath, shoulders slumping. “She’s definitely mad now.”

Leo yawned, already half-asleep leaning against the counter. “Relax, man. She’ll survive.”

But before he could even consider stretching out on the couch, y/n reappeared, barely making a sound. She carried something in her hands—a freshly changed sheet, neatly folded—and began adjusting it over the cushions. Her movements were gentle, careful, smoothing out every wrinkle so the couch looked almost like a proper bed.

Wooyoung’s breath hitched slightly at the sight. The playful, chaotic energy he carried all night suddenly felt heavier, tinged with something warmer, something tender. She was scolding him moments ago, fierce and sharp, and now… now she was making sure he would be comfortable. Just for him.

“You… didn’t have to,” he said, voice lower than intended, caught between amusement and awe. His drunkenness disappeared by the moment.  

y/n glanced over her shoulder, lips twitching as if to smile, though her expression remained composed. “I know. But you’re my brother’s best friend… and you’ve… well, you’ve had a long night.” She smoothed the last corner of the sheet and stepped back. “There. Comfortable enough?”

Wooyoung’s usual grin faltered, replaced by something softer, more honest. “Yeah,” he murmured, the word almost stuck in his throat. “Thanks.”

And just like that, she left him the couch, the air between them carrying a quiet, unspoken understanding: she could be hard-tempered, commanding, unyielding… but for him, there was always a crack in the armor.

The soft click of y/n’s bedroom door settling shut left Wooyoung alone on the couch. He laid back, one hand tucked under his head, the other resting on his stomach, gaze fixed on the ceiling as if staring long enough might untangle the chaos in his mind.

Leo padded over, barefoot and yawning, and set a water bottle on the coffee table beside him. “Here,” he mumbled. “Hydrate before you pass out completely.”

Wooyoung smirked faintly at the gesture, but his thoughts weren’t on the water. He traced the edges of the couch with his fingertips, lingering on the neat sheet y/n had placed, the faint scent she always carried. His chest tightened just slightly, the chaotic, confident energy he’d carried all night giving way to something quieter, more fragile.

Leo shuffled back toward his bedroom, muttering something about needing sleep, and the apartment fell into a hushed, peaceful quiet.

Wooyoung let out a soft, almost imperceptible sigh. He should just sleep, right? Couch, water, quiet night. Easy. Simple.

But his mind kept wandering back to y/n. That sharp edge of hers… it always had a way of cutting through him, leaving him a little undone.

Wooyoung shifted slightly, rolling onto his side and curling into a small cushion he’d dragged closer. The soft fabric pressed against him, a small comfort in the quiet apartment. He let out a low sigh, adjusting his arm under his head as if the motion alone could settle the restless energy still buzzing in him from the night.

His gaze flicked to the TV, the flickering images of the show y/n had left on playing across the room. He tried to focus, letting the plot and dialogue draw his attention, using it as a shield against thoughts of her just down the hall. Quiet, restless, and half-aware, he let himself sink slowly toward sleep, the summer breeze brushing his face.

_______

Morning crept in soft and golden, slipping through the open windows. y/n padded out of her bedroom, hair messy, face still warm with sleep. The first thing she saw was Wooyoung sprawled across the couch — one arm dangling off the side, lips parted, TV still buzzing faintly in the background. An almost-empty water bottle sat abandoned on the table beside him.

She scoffed under her breath, reaching for the remote to turn off the TV. The sound died, leaving the room wrapped in silence except for Wooyoung’s slow, steady snoring. She meant to roll her eyes, but instead, her lips curved into a small, unbidden smile. He looked so different like this — quiet, unguarded… almost boyish.

Shaking herself, she padded toward the kitchen. The clatter of pans and the faint hiss of a stove soon filled the apartment. If Leo and Wooyoung were going to wake up with pounding heads, the least she could do was arm them with breakfast.

y/n moved slowly, still shaking off the weight of sleep. Lingering for a moment in front of the fridge, fingers tapping against the door as she wondered what they’d want — something hearty, something gentle on their stomachs. Pancakes and fruit, she decided. Simple. Comforting.

She slipped her headphones over her ears, pressing play. Music swelled into her morning, cocooning her in a rhythm only she could hear. The world outside faded, leaving only the soft sway of her body as she mixed batter, hips shifting lightly with the beat.

The first notes of sizzling butter filled the kitchen as she poured out a circle of pancake batter, the smell already warm and inviting. Behind her, the coffee machine gurgled to life, its rich aroma starting to fill the air. Careful not to wake them, she worked with practiced ease, lost in her quiet ritual, her movements in sync with the melody carrying her into the day.

A low groan slipped past Wooyoung ‘s lips as he stirred, the couch springs protesting when he shifted. His head throbbed faintly, the kind of dull ache that clung after too many shots, but then… something pulled him fully awake.

The smell of fresh coffee.

His eyes blinked open, adjusting to the soft morning light spilling through the windows. And there she was. y/n, hips swaying lightly in the kitchen, headphones on, completely oblivious to him. Hand reaching into a bowl containing some seasonal fruit, sunlight catching in her messy hair like it belonged there.

The ache in his head dulled instantly. Just watching her, the corners of his mouth tugged upward, slow and unbidden. If this was what mornings could look like, he thought, maybe making a move would be worth it.

Wooyoung pushed himself off the couch, padding carefully across the living room, each step measured so the floorboards wouldn’t betray him. He raked a hand through his messy hair, smirking faintly when he caught sight of her — back turned, body swaying subtly to a rhythm only she could hear.

“Good morning,” he called out, his voice carrying that low, teasing edge he always seemed to have.

Nothing. No glance over her shoulder, no acknowledgment. His smirk faltered, replaced by a faint furrow in his brow. Huh.

He tried again, a little louder, a touch more pointed. “Good. Morning.”

Still nothing.

Now he was scowling, convinced she was ignoring him on purpose — which, granted, wouldn’t be unlike her. Stubborn woman. With an exhale that was half amusement, half irritation, he stepped closer and reached out, fingers brushing her shoulder.

y/n startled violently, a sharp yelp leaving her lips as she spun around. The plum she’d been holding slipped from her hand, rolling across the floor. “Wooyoung, what the fuck?” Her glare was sharp, chin tilted as if daring him to laugh.

He did anyway, crouching to snatch up the fruit before rinsing it under the tap. He took a bold bite, juice running down his chin. “Hey. I was being polite,” he said around the mouthful, eyes glinting with that cocky spark, cleaning the mess in his face with the back of his hand. “I said good morning. Twice.”

y/n scoffed, snatching another plum from the counter and slicing into it with deliberate force. “You don’t sneak up on people at—” she glanced at the clock on the microwave, “—ten in the morning after a night of drowning yourself in tequila.” Her knife hit the board with a sharp thunk.

Wooyoung leaned lazily against the counter, still chewing, watching her with that infuriating grin.

“Scared you that bad, huh?” he teased, deliberately licking juice from his thumb.

y/n shot him a glare over her shoulder, turning back to the cutting board to slice a plum with more force than necessary. “You’re lucky I didn’t stab you with the knife. I haven’t had coffee yet, and you’re already testing me.”

Her voice was clipped, irritated — but there was a faint flush rising in her cheeks, one Wooyoung didn’t miss. His grin widened, sharp and slow.

Wooyoung leaned his hip against the counter, biting into the plum again with exaggerated satisfaction. “Relax, noona,” he drawled, deliberately dragging the word out. “You should be flattered I risked my life just to say good morning to you.”

y/n didn’t look at him, her knife moving cleanly through another piece of fruit. “Flattered isn’t the word I’d use.” She slid the slices into a bowl, shoulders stiff, the corner of her mouth twitching despite herself. Switching tasks, she brushed her shoulder against him, now focused on the stove. 

“Admit it,” he went on, tilting his head as though studying her. “Part of you was happy to see me first thing in the morning. Most women would kill for that honor.”

Her laugh was dry, sharp as she flicked a pancake in the pan, back still to him. “Most women don’t know you’re an overgrown child playing at being charming.”

Wooyoung pressed a hand to his chest in mock offense, grinning through it. “Child? That’s cruel. You wound me.”

“You didn’t deny it,” she said, tone clipped but playful. “Maybe try not giving me a heart attack before lunch time.”

Her eyes stayed fixed on the pan, refusing to give him the satisfaction of a glance — but he could see the slight flush at the base of her neck, and it made his grin turn sly.

y/n poured steaming coffee into two mugs, the rich aroma flooding the kitchen. She slid one toward him without looking, her voice dry as ever. “Drink. You need it more than I do.”

Wooyoung raised his brows, taking the cup like it was a prize. “Are you taking care of me, noona? How sweet.”

“Please,” she snorted, finally glancing his way. “The way you were sprawled on that couch, mouth wide open, I was two seconds away from tucking you in with a juice box. Honestly, you’re worse than Leo after a night out.”

Her words were cutting, but her tone dripped with a playful lilt, the corners of her lips twitching as she turned back to the stove.

Wooyoung’s grin sharpened, his voice dropping into mock-seriousness. “You’re saying you watched me sleep? That sounds… intimate.”

y/n let out a scoff, carefully flipping another pancake, refusing to turn around. “Don’t flatter yourself. You looked ridiculous.”

But the faint warmth creeping up her neck betrayed her.

y/n slid the last pancake onto a plate, reaching to turn off the stove. “If you’re just going to stand there smirking, at least make yourself useful. Set the table.” Her tone left no room for argument, sharp as a whip-crack.

Wooyoung arched a brow, fighting the grin tugging at his lips. He took another sip of coffee before setting the mug down with a dramatic sigh. “Yes, ma’am,” he said, deliberately obedient, grabbing plates and cutlery from the cupboard.

The clatter of forks and the scrape of chairs filled the kitchen as he moved around, deliberately brushing close when he passed behind her. She ignored him — or pretended to — shoulders stiff as she focused on arranging the fruit in a neat bowl.

“You’d make a terrifying boss, you know that?” he teased, laying out the last fork with a flourish. “Lucky for me, I follow orders well.”

y/n shot him a sidelong look, lips curving despite her best efforts. “Keep talking and I’ll make you do the dishes too.”

Before he could shoot back, footsteps shuffled down the hall. Leo appeared, hair sticking up in every direction, rubbing sleep from his eyes.

“Morning,” he muttered, grabbing a cup for himself from a tall cupboard. He gave his sister a lopsided smile. “Smells amazing...” Completely oblivious to the current of tension humming in the room, he reached for the coffee pot as if nothing were amiss.

They settled around the table, plates stacked with pancakes and fruit, coffee steaming between them. For a moment, the only sound was the scrape of cutlery against china, the low hum of morning filling the space.

Leo broke the silence first, yawning into his fork. “You looked like hell yesterday, man. I almost thought you’d never wake up.”

Wooyoung smirked, leaning back in his chair. “And yet here I am — radiant as ever.”

“Radiant?” Leo barked out a laugh. “You’re lucky y/n didn’t toss you out the window. You snore like a chainsaw.”

y/n hid her smirk behind a sip of coffee, not bothering to correct him.

“Chainsaw?” Wooyoung scoffed, dramatically clutching his chest. “That’s just my natural rhythm. Women find it soothing.”

“Poor women,” Leo said, shaking his head with mock pity.

Wooyoung only grinned wider, letting the mask slip right back into place. “Don’t worry about me. I’ve got everything handled.”

The banter rolled between them easily, like it always did, their laughter filling the gaps. y/n listened from the edges, occasionally tossing in a quiet remark but mostly observing, her eyes lingering on Wooyoung longer than she meant to. His voice, his expressions, the way he moved so comfortably in their home — it all pressed at the edges of her carefully built distance.

Leo leaned back in his chair, fork paused mid-air. “So… what’s the deal with this photography project of yours? You’ve been talking about it for months.”

Wooyoung smirked, leaning forward, eyes glinting with both pride and mischief. “Ah, finally, someone interested in my genius. You wouldn’t understand, Leo... Art takes subtlety… sophistication… nuance.”

y/n perked up, coffee in hand. Her ears always pricked at the word “art,” her professional instinct kicking in—after all, she was trained to spot talent, composition, and potential from a mile away.

Leo grinned, glancing at her. “Hey, y/n, maybe you’ll want to take a look at his portfolio. Professional opinion, of course.”

Wooyoung froze just slightly at the proposition, but he hid it with a quick, cocky shrug. “Professional? Of course. If the great y/n wants to grace my work with her superior judgment, who am I to refuse?”

y/n raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Superior judgment, huh? We’ll see about that.”

Wooyoung’s grin flickered — equal parts excitement and nervous energy — but he quickly masked it with his usual swagger. “Come on, noona. I’ve been told my work leaves people… speechless.”

y/n tilted her head, studying him over the rim of her coffee cup, lips twitching as if to smile. “I’ll take a look… another time. Can’t have you distracting me before I finish breakfast.”

Wooyoung chuckled, leaning back slightly, letting the tension linger, that subtle mixture of playfulness and anticipation humming between them. “I’ll be counting the minutes, then.”

By late morning, Wooyoung had gathered his things, flashing his usual cocky grin. “Alright, duty calls. Don’t miss me too much,” he teased, tossing a wink over his shoulder as he stepped out the door.

y/n exhaled softly, sinking back into the quiet of their apartment. The tension of breakfast, of his smirking presence, even the way he had subtly tested her patience with his playful jabs—it all melted away. Her kitchen was quiet except for the faint hum of the refrigerator, and for a moment, she just breathed, letting the sunlight through the open windows warm her skin. Breakfast dishes could wait.

By afternoon, she was out the door, tying her climbing shoes as her friends called to her from the base of the rock wall. Hands gripping rough holds, muscles straining, her body pushed to focus only on movement and balance. She loved the clarity climbing brought her: there was no distraction, no lingering thoughts of Wooyoung, no sharp teasing banter floating in the back of her mind. It was just her, the wall, and the rhythm of her own heartbeat.

Hours passed, and by the time she reached the top of another particularly challenging path, she was sweating, exhilarated, and filled with a quiet kind of triumph. The descent was careful, methodical; her friends chatted and laughed around her, voices bright and warm. Even after she’d shaken out her arms and grabbed a water bottle, her mind was calm.

She wiped sweat from her brow and reached into her pocket for her phone, just to check the time. That’s when she noticed it: a small, blinking notification—an unread message from Wooyoung. Frowning, she tapped it open, and her eyes widened slightly.

His portfolio.

Her pulse quickened, and for a heartbeat she just stared at the screen, seated on the thick pad right below the wall. With the muscles in her arms still tired but steadier now, she carefully shifted to a more comfortable spot, crossing her legs as she scrolled through the first few images. The photographs were sharp, intentional, each frame capturing light and shadow with a skill that immediately pulled her professional instincts forward. Composition, angles, mood—all evident, all precise.

And yet, there was something more, subtle but unmistakable: flashes of personality threaded through the work. Playful angles, mischievous shadows, energy that felt like… him. Wooyoung, behind the lens, daring the world to notice what he saw, what he felt.

y/n’s thumb lingered over the screen as she scrolled, and then she froze.

It was her.

It was a photo from that group's casual barbecue, the one Dae, Leo’s girlfriend, had invited her to—lunch, laughter, music floating on the late-afternoon breeze, glasses clinking, the sun sliding toward the horizon. But here, in Wooyoung’s capture, it was transformed.

Her hair was tousled from the breeze, strands catching the light like spun gold. She was laughing, head thrown back slightly, eyes disappearing into thin, crescent shapes, that careless, unguarded smile that never made it into mirrors or selfies. The orange glow of the sunset kissed her skin, making it appear warmer, more radiant, like she was glowing from within. Every line of her face, the tilt of her shoulders, even the gentle curve of her fingers mid-gesture—it all seemed to hum with life.

Wooyoung had framed her in such a way that the background blurred into a soft, painterly haze. Flames from a nearby grill, bottles, the other guests’ laughter frozen mid-movement—they became mere texture, a canvas on which she existed as the singular point of light. It wasn’t just a photograph; it was a story, a feeling, a pulse. The spark in her smile mirrored the sly caring in his eyes, as if they shared some secret understanding across space and time.

y/n could almost hear him there, behind the camera: daring, teasing, yet impossibly attentive. She tilted her head, studying the picture, noting the care in the shadows, the way the light played with the edges of her hair, the deliberate tilt of the frame that made the ordinary magical. It wasn’t posed, it wasn’t staged — it was a moment stolen, yet preserved forever.

Her chest tightened slightly, the kind of ache that was both unsettling and… thrilling. The mischievous energy that always clung to Wooyoung seemed to radiate off the image, wrapping around her in an invisible halo. She had never looked at herself like this—through someone else’s eyes, through his eyes. And the truth of it was undeniable: he had noticed everything.

y/n’s thumb hesitated over the screen, then flicked to the next image. A narrow street at dusk, shadows stretching across cobblestones. A figure leaned casually against a lamppost, hair catching the dying light, shoulders relaxed in a familiar posture. She didn’t need to see the face—she knew instantly that it was her. The same evening, the same quiet mischief, the same laugh that had echoed off the walls of the old neighborhood. Wooyoung had captured it all, framing it with light and shadow that made her feel seen, even though her face was hidden.

She scrolled further. A coffee shop, late afternoon light spilling over the table. The photo focused on a hand brushing a stray lock of hair behind the ear, the curve of a shoulder, a slight lean forward to listen to Dae’s concerns. Ordinary, almost nothing, but she remembered: this was her, completely absorbed in the world around her, entirely herself. The subtle tension, the gentle motion, the small details she assumed no one ever really noticed…

Except him.

Her pulse quickened as she reached the last few images. A rooftop at sunset, the city sprawling behind her. The frame captured only her silhouette, the arch of her neck, the tilt of her head as she looked toward the horizon. But the memory flooded back instantly: she had been here, alone for a moment, savoring the quiet, the freedom. And he had been there, quietly, capturing the light dancing across her form, preserving something only they had shared.

y/n leaned back against the wall, phone held carefully, a quiet smile tugging at her lips. The photographs were confessions disguised as art. Wooyoung had framed her, not for the world, not for recognition, but for himself. For the secret only they shared. And somehow, seeing it, she felt it too: a thrill, a warmth, a subtle pull, all threaded with the mischievous energy of the man behind the lens.

A laugh from behind startled her. “Hey! What’s got you grinning like an idiot over there?”

She turned, squinting against the light to see one of her friends standing next to her, bottle of water in hand. “Huh?”

“You,” her friend said, smirking knowingly. “I’ve been watching you from over there, and you are definitely distracted. Not planning on continuing climbing, are you?”

y/n felt a faint blush rise to her cheeks. She quickly locked her phone, hoping the smile didn’t linger too obviously. “Nothing,” she said, voice a touch too light, too casual. “Just… taking a breather. You know, my shoulder’s been acting up since last fall.”

Her friend raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “Uh-huh. Sure… ‘breather.’ Right.”

y/n rolled her eyes, tilting back her water bottle and drinking long and slow to stall. “You’re imagining things. Focus on your climb before you end up kissing the wall.”

Her friend bounded ahead, already hooking the harness carabiner to the rope to make another climb, leaving her with a quiet moment to herself. She exhaled, letting her thoughts settle… though her mind kept drifting back to her phone.

Unlocking the screen again, Wooyoung’s chat was still open, the portfolio images lingering in her memory. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard for a moment, unsure what to say.

Finally, she typed simply, carefully:

Thanks for sharing your work. Strong portfolio, you’ve got a strong eye. We’ll talk about it soon.

She read it over, a small smile tugging at her lips. Nothing more. Not daring to mention the photos—not yet. Just enough praise to acknowledge the work, to keep the connection neutral and light, to distract him from the topic she couldn't dare mention. With a soft tap, she sent the message, then tucked her phone away again, leaning back against the wall and letting the banter between her friends ease her mind.

By the time y/n got home, her muscles ached in that satisfying way that came after physical exercise— sore, but alive. She dropped her gear by the door and headed straight for the shower, letting the hot water wash away the chalk dust, the sweat, the lingering thoughts that still tugged at her from the climbing wall.

Wrapped in a towel, she padded into her room, tugged on a long-sleeve t-shirt and shorts, letting her damp hair fall around her face. The smell of food drifted down the hall—something savory, her stomach tightening with sudden hunger.

In the kitchen, she found Leo standing proudly at the stove, tossing vegetables in a pan like he was auditioning for a cooking show. A pot of pasta steamed beside him, and the table was already set with two plates.

“Wow,” y/n said, stepping in with a grin. “Did I accidentally walk into the wrong apartment? Since when do you cook dinner?”

Leo shot her a mock glare, ladle in hand. “Since I realized my sister would come home starving and try to steal whatever I made anyway.”

“Correct,” she said, already swiping a piece of tomato off the cutting board and popping it into her mouth before he could protest.

“y/n!” he groaned, swatting at her hand. “Do you even know how long it took me to chop all that?”

“Long enough for me to get here just in time,” she quipped, ducking past him to steal a sip from his glass of water too.

Leo shook his head, muttering under his breath, but the corner of his mouth tugged upward all the same. It was their rhythm, the easy, playful sibling banter that had carried them through the years: her needling, his overblown indignation, both of them knowing they’d split the meal in the end no matter what.

y/n leaned against the counter, arms crossed, watching him stir the pan with exaggerated focus. “So, what did you even do all day? Or do I not want to know?”

Leo gave her a look, half sheepish, half smug. “Define do.”

“Uh-huh,” y/n said, amused. “That already sounds suspicious.” She stole another chopped vegetable from the pan while he stalled with an unnecessary amount of stirring.

He sighed, but there was a spark of mischief in his eyes. “I watched a movie marathon. Classic stuff. You know, the important cultural education.”

y/n bit her lip to keep from smiling too wide. “Let me guess. Superheroes?”

“Obviously. Someone’s gotta keep the legacy alive.” He smirked as he scooped pasta onto the sauce. “Then I took a nap. A very productive nap, might I add. And now…” He gestured at the meal like a magician revealing his final trick. “Dinner for my loving sister. Redemption arc complete.”

y/n laughed, the sound bubbling out before she could help it. “Wow. A true hero’s journey. Eat, sleep, cape, repeat.”

They sat across each other at the table, Leo shaking his head but grinning all the same. For a while, they just ate, trading little remarks between bites. Nothing heavy, nothing complicated—just the kind of easy companionship that reminded y/n why she’d always protected him so fiercely.

She studied him as he launched into an enthusiastic tangent about one of the films, hands flying as he described some epic fight scene. Still the same boy who used to follow her around with wide eyes, now grown into his own, but still hers in a way no one else could ever be.

Leo was in the middle of an impassioned rant about why the third act of his movie marathon was “a complete betrayal of the fans” when y/n’s phone buzzed against the table. She reached for it absently, half-listening, but the second she saw the name on the screen, her attention slipped.

Wooyoung.

She thumbed the notification open, her pulse betraying her with a tiny quickening.

“That’s it? ‘Looking good’? C’mon, noona… you’re not even gonna mention your pictures? Or are you just pretending you didn’t notice? ;)”

The words radiated his voice—smug, reckless, infuriatingly sure of himself. She could practically see the cocky tilt of his grin through the screen, the one he wore whenever he thought he had her cornered.

y/n’s stomach flipped before she could stop it. Damn him.

She pressed the phone facedown against the table, ignoring the warmth in her cheeks, and made a vague noise of agreement as Leo kept rambling about cinematic universes. But her mind wasn’t on villains or superheroes anymore.

Dinner wound down in its usual rhythm—Leo still buzzing with stories, y/n half-listening, half-escaping into the small comforts of home. Later, once dishes were stacked and lights dimmed, she slipped away into her room and laid in her bed.

The door clicked shut, cocooning her in quiet. Only then did she let herself reach for her phone again.

Wooyoung’s message plastered on the screen, the smug words waiting for her like a dare. She read it once more, then again, lips pressing together against the traitorous smile tugging at them.

Rolling onto her side, she typed slowly, deliberately—not professional, not too personal, but enough to sting his ego just right.

“God, are you obsessed with me or something? Starting to seem like it.”

Her thumb hovered only a second before she hit send. The message darted off, wicked and dismissive, the kind of thing she knew would make him bristle.

But his reply came quicker than she expected.

“Yeah. What about it, noona?”

y/n blinked at the screen, her pulse skipping. No winky face, no laugh, no shield of sarcasm. Just the words, laid bare, daring her to flinch first.

The room suddenly felt warmer, quieter, as if even the hum of the city outside had stilled to wait for her reaction.

“Stop calling me noona. It’s annoying.”

She hit send, tossing the phone beside her like distance could cool the heat in her chest. But she knew him—knew he’d see the crack in her reply, the way her deflection was its own kind of answer.

The phone buzzed again, a sharp vibration against the sheets.

y/n’s eyes slid toward it, the glow of the screen lighting up the darkened room, Wooyoung’s name bold at the top.

She didn’t open it.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, rolling onto her back and turning off the little bedside table lamp. Her body hummed with restless energy, but exhaustion tugged harder. Whatever clever, cocky reply he’d sent could wait until morning.

Her last conscious thought was the faintest smile, because she already knew he wouldn’t let it go so easily.

y/n woke to soft morning light filtering through the blinds. After a quick shower, she headed out, earbuds in, letting her playlist set the pace for her run and light workout at the gym. On the way back, she stopped by her favorite café, the smell of coffee and warm pastries wrapping around her. She couldn’t resist picking up a few buttery croissants for Leo, tucking them carefully into a paper bag.

Carrying the paper bag in her arms, she returned to the apartment, slid the key into the lock, nudged the door open with her hip—only to freeze.

Wooyoung’s laugh carried from the kitchen, low and unguarded. He was leaning against the counter, sleeves pushed up, gesturing animatedly with one hand while the other nursed a mug. Leo, still in his sleep shirt, looked halfway between entertained and exasperated.

y/n blinked, thrown by the sight.

“Morning, noona,” Wooyoung called smoothly the moment his eyes landed on her. That grin was already in place, the one that dared her to react, to break first. A teasing reminder of last night's conversation. 

She set the bag down a little too firmly on the table. “What are you doing here?”

“Visiting my favorite person,” Wooyoung shot back, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. Then, without missing a beat, “And you too, Leo.”

Leo snorted, stealing one of the croissants out of the bag before she could swat him. “He showed up like ten minutes ago. Said he was in the neighborhood.”

y/n narrowed her eyes at Wooyoung, who was now helping himself to the coffee pot like he lived there. The audacity.

And yet, the way he moved around her kitchen—so casual, so sure—had her pulse tripping in ways she refused to name.

Wooyoung’s grin widened, like he could read the flicker of irritation—or something more—crossing her face. Clearly, showing up early hadn’t been a mistake.

y/n ignored him completely, muttering a quick, “I need a shower,” as she retreated toward her bedroom and shut the door behind her. The sound of running water started almost immediately, a deliberate barrier between her and the mischievous energy lingering in the kitchen.

From the other side of the door, she could still hear him moving, the scrape of a chair, Leo laughing quietly at something Wooyoung said. She exhaled, letting the warm spray of water wash over her, trying to disentangle the flutter in her chest from the stubborn irritation she was determined to keep.

Even with the water pounding over her shoulders, she couldn’t stop a small smile from tugging at her lips. That boy… he was impossible.

y/n stepped out of her room in fresh clothes, barefoot and dirty gym clothes in hand. Leo and Wooyoung were sprawled on the sofa, mid-conversation, laughter still buzzing between them. Leo was gesturing animatedly with his hands, some story tumbling out, while Wooyoung leaned back, his grin sharp and lazy, throwing in comments just to rile him up.

Without a word, y/n crossed the room, tossing the throwing sweaty clothes into the laundry basket before plucking a croissant from the paper bag on the counter, and sank into the armchair opposite them. She tore off a piece and bit into it, her gaze flicking between the two boys as she chewed.

Neither of them missed it—her presence shifted the air instantly. Leo, oblivious as ever, kept talking, but Wooyoung’s eyes found her almost immediately. Quick, then lingering. A glance that said more than it should, like he’d been waiting for her to join them.

y/n pretended not to notice, focusing instead on her croissant, her voice casual as she finally spoke. “Don’t you two ever get tired of listening to yourselves talk?”

Leo groaned dramatically, tossing his head back against the cushions. “See? This is what I deal with every day. Constant judgment.”

Wooyoung snorted, eyes still half-trained on her. “Better than silence. Besides…” his grin tilted, deliberate, “…some people actually enjoy listening to me.”

y/n raised her croissant, unimpressed. “Pity them.”

Leo laughed, oblivious to the subtle crackle of tension between his best friend and his sister, and launched right back into his story. Wooyoung, though, stayed half-focused on y/n, watching the way she sat curled in the chair, fresh-faced and cozy, pretending she wasn’t entirely aware of his gaze.

The domestic ease of it—morning light spilling through the windows, the soft sounds of Leo’s chatter, her croissant flaking between her fingers—made the moment feel deceptively ordinary. But for Wooyoung, it was anything but.

He leaned back into the cushions, one arm draped lazily over the back of the sofa, his eyes kept drifting toward y/n. He tried to catch her gaze—once, twice, three times—but she ignored him with infuriating precision, breaking off another piece of croissant like he wasn’t even there.

The corner of his mouth curved. Stubborn, impossible woman.

Finally, he tipped his head toward her, voice light but laced with something sharper underneath. “You know, noona… if you keep avoiding looking at me, people might think you’re hiding something.”

y/n’s hand froze midway to her mouth. Her eyes finally lifted, slow and deliberate, locking on his with a calm that was all façade. Her lips parted, ready with a retort—

—and then Leo’s phone blared loudly from the coffee table.

“Shit,” Leo muttered, grabbing it and shooting to his feet. “It’s Dae, hold on.” He disappeared into his room, shutting the door behind him, leaving the apartment suddenly quieter, heavier.

The echo of his steps faded, and Wooyoung’s grin lingered, sharp with satisfaction. For the first time all morning, y/n’s eyes were on him—and there was no one else left to interrupt.

y/n leaned back in the chair, finally giving him a flat look. “You really think you’re that interesting?”

Wooyoung smirked, leaning forward like he’d been waiting for that opening. “You’re the one staring at me now…. Took you long enough.”

She scoffed, popping the last bite of croissant into her mouth. “Please. Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Too late.” His grin widened, eyes glittering as he studied her. “You should know by now—I live off flattery.”

“Self-inflicted, maybe,” she muttered, reaching for her coffee to avoid letting her lips curl into a smile.

Wooyoung watched her over the rim of his own cup, enjoying every flicker of irritation, every tiny effort she made to pretend he wasn’t getting under her skin. He let the silence stretch just long enough before tilting his head, voice dropping playfully.

“Wanna know why I took those pictures?”

The air shifted. Her fingers stilled on the mug, knuckles whitening just slightly.

She didn’t meet his gaze this time. Instead, she let out a quiet, almost bored breath. “Not really…” Her tone was casual, dismissive, but the heaviness in her chest betrayed her. Because she did want to know. More than anything.

Wooyoung’s smile softened—not all the way, but enough that the mischief bled into something steadier, truer. He didn’t push, not yet. He only leaned back again, stretching out like he had all the time in the world.

“Liar,” he murmured, almost too low for her to hear.

For once, y/n didn’t have a comeback. The teasing line caught in her throat, dissolving under the weight of his gaze. The silence between them stretched, filled only by the faint hum of the TV and the distant sound of Leo’s muffled voice behind his door.

Then, Wooyoung shifted.

He slid off the sofa, movements slower than his usual dramatic flair, and kneeled on the floor in front of her. The cocky grin was gone, replaced by something steadier, quieter. His hand brushed against her ankle as if to anchor her attention, his thumb tracing idly over the skin peaking out under her sock.

y/n’s breath hitched. She looked down at him, startled by how close he suddenly felt—not just physically, but emotionally, too.

“Hey,” he said softly, the single word stripped of bravado. His usual teasing lilt was gone, leaving only sincerity. “I didn’t take those pictures to mess with you.”

The warmth of his palm on her ankle seeped through her skin, grounding her even as her mind scrambled for composure. She should’ve pulled away, should’ve said something sharp to remind him of his place. But she didn’t. She couldn’t.

For the first time, she saw the boy who wasn’t all smirks and swagger, but the one who felt deeply, who noticed more than he let on.

And it left her speechless.

“Those pictures…” Wooyoung’s thumb stilled on her ankle, but he didn’t pull back. His gaze lifted, searching her face, his voice low and careful. “I took them because you looked… different that day. Not just beautiful—though, God, you were—but alive. Like the world finally made sense, and I didn’t want to forget it.”

y/n’s chest tightened. She forced a short laugh, trying to wave the weight of his words away. “You’re sleep deprived, or still hungover. Whatever this is—it doesn’t count.”

He frowned, shaking his head, frustration slipping through. “No. Don’t do that. Don’t pretend my feelings aren't real.”

Her lips parted, caught between protest and silence, but Wooyoung pressed on, his voice rougher now, stripped of his usual shine.

“You think I flirt with everyone, right? That I don’t take anything seriously. But with you—” He broke off, dragging a hand through her calf before returning to her ankle, looking at her again, fire in his eyes. “With you, I can’t help it. I see you and it’s like—damn it, y/n, I can’t stop. You’ve been in my head for so long, I don’t even remember what it’s like not to want you.”

The air between them felt molten, too heavy to breathe.

y/n swallowed hard, her heart thundering against her ribs. She should try to shut him down—should remind him of Leo, of lines they weren’t supposed to cross. But Wooyoung’s voice, raw and unguarded, made every excuse crumble before it reached her lips.

y/n shook her head, forcing a brittle laugh as she pulled her ankle back. “You don’t know what you’re saying, Wooyoung. You’re Leo’s best friend. You’re younger than me. This—” She waved a hand between them, as if the air itself could be dismissed. “It’s just a game for you. That’s all it will ever be.”

He stared at her like she’d just slapped him. Something inside him broke.

“A game?” His voice was hoarse, sharp at the edges. He pushed himself higher on his knees, closing the space between them, desperate for her to see. “You think this is a game to me?”

She faltered, lips parting, but he didn’t give her the chance.

“I fucking love you, y/n.” The words ripped out of him, raw and unpolished, years of holding back catching fire all at once. “For so long, I’ve been trying to bury it, laugh it off, flirt with anyone else just so I don’t give myself away. But it’s you. It’s only ever been you.”

His chest rose and fell hard, every breath weighted. His eyes, usually glittering with mischief, burned with something deeper, truer—aching sincerity.

“Please.” His voice cracked, softer now, pleading. “Believe me. At least in this.”

The silence that followed felt deafening. y/n’s pulse hammered in her throat, every instinct screaming to push him back, to rebuild the walls he’d just shattered. And yet—she couldn’t look away. Not from him, not from the storm of devotion written all over his face.

“y/n,” Wooyoung pressed, his words tumbling faster now, desperate, unstoppable. “I don’t care if I’m younger, I don’t care if Leo kills me—hell, maybe I deserve it. I just—every time you walk into a room, it feels like gravity shifts, like I can’t breathe until you look at me. And I—”

She couldn’t take it anymore.

Her hand shot up, curling into the back of his neck, dragging him forward in one sharp, decisive pull. Their lips collided, rough and hungry, swallowing every unfinished word.

Wooyoung froze for a split second, breath caught in his throat, before melting into her, the tension of years unraveling in an instant. Still on his knees, he steadied himself with one hand against the armchair, the other sliding carefully from her ankle upward. His fingertips brushed her thigh, tentative, reverent, like he was terrified that pushing too far might break the spell.

y/n only pulled him closer, her kiss fierce, as if daring him to ever call it a game.

Wooyoung groaned softly against her mouth, his thumb stroking her skin in trembling circles, trying to memorize the moment even as it consumed him. After so long of pretending, of hiding behind charm and masks, finally having her—her lips, her hands, her fire—felt unreal, too fragile to be real.

And yet, it was.

When breath finally forced them apart, their foreheads lingered close, lips still brushing with every shaky exhale. y/n’s chest rose and fell fast, her eyes searching his, wide with something she couldn’t bring herself to name.

For a beat, neither of them moved. The world outside that narrow space felt far away—Leo’s muffled voice in his room, the ticking of the clock, the faint hum of the city beyond the window.

Then Wooyoung’s restraint snapped.

He surged forward, capturing her mouth again, but this time it was different—wilder, unrestrained. His hand slid from her thigh upward, only to tangle in her hair, fisting it gently but firmly as he tilted her head back to deepen the kiss. 

The rough tug of his hand in her hair stole a sound from her throat—soft, unguarded, somewhere between a moan and a whimper. She felt it vibrate against his mouth, and the answering growl he gave only sent her spiraling deeper. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, not pushing him away—never that—but anchoring herself, holding on as if the ground itself had shifted beneath her.

This wasn’t Wooyoung the cocky boy, the teasing charmer. This was him raw, undone, kissing her like she was the only thing he’d ever wanted, the only thing he’d ever let himself lose control for. A low sound rumbled in his throat, all frustration and longing, as if he’d been starving for this for years.

Without thinking, y/n’s hands were moving again—one cupping his jaw, thumb brushing over the sharp edge of his cheekbone, grounding herself in the heat of his skin. The other drifted lower, sliding to the column of his throat. She pressed lightly, just enough to feel the wild thrum of his pulse beneath her palm. Her touch wasn’t harsh, but steady, claiming, a silent declaration that he was hers in this moment just as much as she was his.

Wooyoung shuddered at the contact, his lips parting against hers in a ragged exhale. For all his usual bravado, it was that gesture that undid him—the way she held him, not as if he were some reckless boy begging for attention, but as if she knew exactly what he was worth and was daring to take it.

The kiss deepened, slower now, molten. Every brush of her lips, every sigh, every trembling shift of her body against his was surrender—finally, undeniably. And yet, beneath the softness, there was fire: her nails catching against his skin, her hold on his throat tightening just enough to remind him she wasn’t only yielding… she was choosing.

The sharp click of Leo’s door jolted them apart. Wooyoung all but tore himself back, breath ragged, lips swollen, still on his knees in front of her. He rapidly vaulted back onto the sofa, sliding into a rigid, almost comically upright posture. His hands scrambled for composure, one tugging at his shirt, the other tugging lower, desperate to disguise the obvious tent in his jeans. His arms folded over his chest, one leg crossed casually over the other, eyes pretending to scan the room—but not too carefully. Every inch of him screamed the opposite, the faint heat lingering in his cheeks betraying how recently he’d been kneeling at her feet.

Leo strolled out, phone in hand, a frown painting his face. “My girl needs me… I’ll be back before dinner.” He paused at the door, eyes flicking to Wooyoung without a trace of suspicion. “You eating here? I might bring some takeout…”

Wooyoung forced a casual nod, his voice rougher than he wanted. “Yeah, sure.”

Slipping off his shoes at the entrance, Leo called over his shoulder with a grin, “Try not to kill each other while I’m gone!” The door clicked shut behind him, and suddenly the apartment felt impossibly still—charged, heavy, waiting.

y/n turned slowly, breath catching, chest rising and falling as the warmth lingered across her skin, her lips still tingling from their last kiss. Wooyoung lounged on the sofa, smirk lazy and wicked, but in his eyes—dark, hungry—was a plea he couldn’t yet put into words.

And y/n… she looked right back at him, gaze caught between fear and fire, like she already knew what the rest of this day held. The way her mouth ached to be against his again.

This was going to be a long day… and by the end of it, she’d be his—every gasp, every moan, every inch of her surrender marked on him, never wanting to let her go.

masterlist

a/n: yooo so real talk 😭 been struggling hardcore proofreading san’s story… so i decided to take a lil break and write this oneshot instead, kinda refreshing my brain lol... after taking forever with san’s updates, consider this a lil gift for all your insane patience 🥺💖 hope u like it!!

this was heavily inspired by that vid of wooyoung loudly confessing his… degradation kink, and even tho there’s no smut here, i lowkey wanted him to have a lil hint of that vibe 👀

tiny side note: I wasn’t sure if you’d want the taglist to apply to other stories besides San’s, but if people are interested, I can definitely make a separate taglist specifically for drabbles and oneshots. Just let me know!

love y’all lots 💕 thanks for sticking with me, always.

✨ general taglist open! ✨

if you want to be tagged in my upcoming fics (or just keep up with whatever i post next), feel free to comment or send a message 💖

The moment you stepped onto the floor his attention automatically found you. His eyes followed your path through the office, taking in the familiar sight of you weaving around desks and associates with barely a glance in their direction. His jaw tightened slightly as the skirt moved with every confident step, forcing himself to look away before someone noticed him staring at your ass. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath. Because apparently seven years wasn’t enough time to get over a crush. Not law school. Not graduation. Not working together for almost three years. Nothing helped. If anything, seeing you every day only made it worse. Far worse.

A sharp knock pulled him from his thoughts as his assistant stepped into the office. “Jeong, the Montgomery files.” Yunho looked down at the documents in front of him. “Thanks.” The assistant left and Yunho immediately looked back toward your office. Pathetic. Actually pathetic and he knew it. His father knew it. Half the damn firm probably knew it. Yet there he was. Still watching. Still hopeless. Still completely screwed. Then his mood darkened. Because Danny appeared. The new associate. Fresh out of Northwestern. Too eager. Too friendly. And unfortunately very interested in you.

Yunho watched as Danny crossed the floor carrying two coffees. One for himself and one for you. His jaw immediately clenched as Danny stopped outside your office just as you reached your desk. You looked up from your laptop and he flashed a smile, said something Yunho couldn’t hear. Then handed you the coffee and your smile appeared. And Yunho nearly snapped the pen in his hand. The worst part wasn’t even that Danny liked you. Everybody liked you. That wasn’t new. The problem was Danny had the confidence to actually do something about it. While Yunho had spent years pretending he wasn’t completely obsessed.

From your office, you accepted the coffee with a grateful smile and Danny laughed at something you said and you laughed back. And across the floor, Yunho looked one minor inconvenience away from committing several felonies. A moment later his office door opened and his father stepped inside carrying a folder. One glance out the glass wall was all it took and older man sighed. The sigh of a man who had watched this exact situation unfold for years. “Morning, son.” Yunho didn’t answer as his father followed his gaze. Saw Danny. Saw you. Saw the coffee. And immediately understood. “Still haven’t told her?”

Yunho’s eyes never left the scene outside. “No idea what you’re talking about.”

“Right.”

“Not a clue.”

His father nodded then placed the folder on the desk. “You know, most people simply ask someone out.” Yunho finally looked at him. “I’d rather jump off the roof.” His father laughed. “That’s probably easier than whatever it is you’re doing now.” Outside, Danny said something else that made you smile again and Yunho looked away immediately. Because for some reason, that smile had always been his biggest weakness. And unfortunately for him, you had absolutely no idea.

Yunho’s father didn’t look particularly sympathetic. In fact, the older man looked far too entertained for someone standing in the office of a man currently contemplating murder. Outside the glass walls, Danny was still lingering beside your desk, leaning casually against the doorway while you sorted through emails. Whatever he was saying earned yet another laugh from you and Yunho’s eye twitched.

“You’re glaring.”

“I’m working.”

“You’re glaring while working.”

“I’m multitasking.”

His father snorted. “Very professional.” Yunho finally dragged his attention back toward the folder sitting on his desk. “What do you need?” The smile his father gave him instantly made him suspicious. Twenty seven years old and it still worked. Every time that smile appeared, it meant trouble. His father slid a folder across the desk. “New case.” Yunho opened it and froze.

First came confusion. Then disbelief. Then something dangerously close to hope. His father watched every emotion happen in real time.

“You’re kidding.”

“No.”

Yunho flipped through the first few pages. Major client. Corporate litigation. Huge account. Millions at stake. The kind of case that could make careers. His eyes landed on the staffing page then stopped. Because directly beneath his own name was yours and for a second he forgot how to breathe as his father folded his arms. “Surprise.” Yunho read it again. Then again just to make sure. Still there. Your name. Partnered with him. For months. Potentially longer. Depositions. Strategy meetings. Client dinners. Travel. Late nights. Court appearances. The entire package.

Slowly, his father sat down across from the desk. “Happy?”

“No.”

“Liar.”

Yunho tossed the folder onto his desk and his father grinned. “You two will be leading it together.” Yunho groaned, putting up that front of his. Denial. False annoyance. “Why?”

“Because you’re my two best associates.”

Yunho immediately narrowed his eyes. “That sounds fake.”

“It’s not.”

“It sounds fake.”

His father laughed. “It is a little fake.” Yunho rolled his eyes. “There it is.” The older man leaned back in his chair. “The client requested our strongest team.”

“And?”

“And unfortunately the two of you are extremely good together.”

Yunho hated that. Not because it wasn’t true. Because it was. You fought constantly. Argued over strategy. Disagreed on nearly everything. But somehow every case the two of you touched ended in a win. The entire firm knew it. Which only made it worse. His father studied him for a moment then sighed. “You know this is probably healthy.” Yunho already hated where this conversation was heading. “Healthy?”

“Yes.”

“Working sixty hour weeks is healthy?”

“No.”

“Then what are you talking about?”

His father pointed toward the bullpen. Toward you. “The time together.” Yunho immediately looked away. “Absolutely not.”

“The kind of time where you’re not obsessing over her from behind glass.” Outside, a group of associates walked past your office while Yunho stared at his father like he’d just committed a crime but the older man just continued. “Maybe you’ll actually have a conversation.”

“I talk to her.”

“You argue with her.”

“Same thing.”

“It is not.”

Yunho rubbed a hand over his face. His father was enjoying this far too much. “You’re being dramatic.” His father nearly choked laughing. “Me?”

“Yes.”

The older man pointed at the floor to ceiling windows. “Son, you’ve spent the last ten minutes watching her drink coffee.”

“That’s not true.”

“You literally stopped listening when she smiled.” Yunho opened his mouth and closed it. Opened it again. Then gave up. Because unfortunately that was exactly what had happened and his father looked positively delighted. “Seven years.”

“Stop.”

“Seven.”

“Please stop.”

“Years.”

Yunho groaned as his father stood and straightened his jacket. “You know, normal people would’ve asked her out by now.”

“I’m not normal.”

“Clearly.” His father moved toward the door then paused and gave one last glance over his shoulder. One final bullet to the head. “Try not to scare her off.” The door closed behind him and Yunho stared at it. Then immediately looked across the office floor straight toward your office. As if sensing it, you looked up and your eyes met through the glass. And for a brief second. One tiny second. Before you rolled your eyes and went back to work….. Yunho felt something in his chest do a complete backflip. Then Danny reappeared carrying another stack of files and just like that, his mood was ruined again.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The rest of the morning passed exactly how most mornings at Jeong & Partners passed. Chaotically. Emails. Phone calls. Research requests. Partners demanding updates. Clients demanding miracles. By noon, you had almost forgotten about the conversation you’d overheard between two associates discussing some major litigation assignment being announced later that week. Almost. Unfortunately, one particular blond attorney seemed determined to make sure you didn’t forget.

Across the floor, Yunho had spent the better part of the last three hours pretending to work. The keyword being pretending. Because every time he looked up from his desk, he could see your office. Every time he glanced through the glass walls, there you were. Typing. Reading. Arguing with opposing counsel over the phone. Running a hand through your hair when frustrated. And every single time, he had to force himself to focus on something else. The problem was now he knew. Now he knew you’d be working together. Months. Possibly longer. Which meant his already fragile self control was hanging on by a thread. And the worst part? He was excited.

Which was exactly why he needed to be an asshole. The asshole persona was safe. The asshole persona couldn’t accidentally confess he’d been in love with you since constitutional law. The asshole persona couldn’t accidentally admit he remembered what color dress you’d worn to graduation. So the asshole persona stayed and by lunchtime, you were gathering your things. Your laptop disappeared into your bag. You grabbed your phone. A few files. Your wallet. And finally stood from your desk. But the second you stepped into the hallway, a familiar voice appeared like a curse. “Going somewhere?”

You stopped walking and closed your eyes. Counted to three then turned. Yunho stood a few feet away looking irritatingly perfect as usual. The charcoal three piece suit fit him like it had been stitched directly onto his body. His tie had disappeared sometime during the morning, the top button of his white dress shirt undone. The silver blond hair he’d been bleaching for as long as you’d known him fell across his forehead in a way that should’ve looked ridiculous. Instead, annoyingly, it worked. You hated that it worked. You hated that your brain occasionally noticed things like that. Mostly because it was easier to be irritated by him when he wasn’t walking around looking like the human embodiment of an expensive magazine ad of your exact type. “What do you want?”

His mouth immediately twitched. “You know,” he said casually, sliding one hand into his pocket, “most people start conversations with hello.”

“Most people aren’t you.”

“Ouch.”

“Tragic.”

Yunho looked positively delighted and you hated that too. Then again, he always seemed happiest when annoying you. Which honestly said a lot about his mental stability. “So,” he said.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to ask.”

“I know enough.”

His grin widened. God, you wanted to throw something at him. “Did you hear the news?” You rolled your eyes so hard it physically hurt. “What news?” For a brief moment something flashed through his expression. Excitement. Then it disappeared beneath the usual cocky smile as Yunho pulled a folder from under his arm and held it out making you frown as you took it and opened it. And immediately froze. Your name. His name. The case assignment. The same realization hit you that had hit him hours earlier. “Oh no.” Yunho laughed. The bastard. “Oh yes.” You looked up. Then back at the paperwork. Then back at him. “No.”

“Afraid so.”

“There has to be a mistake.”

“There isn’t.”

“Your father hates me.”

“My father loves you.” You blinked and Yunho blinked. And for one horrifying second neither of you moved. Then he recovered. Far faster than you did. “Professionally,” he added quickly and your eyes narrowed. “Right.”

“Obviously.”

Neither of you seemed entirely convinced as Yunho cleared his throat. Then leaned slightly closer. Not enough to invade your space. Just enough to be annoying. His favorite distance. The distance that made you aware of him. Made you notice things. Like the expensive cologne. Or the sharp line of his jaw. Or the fact that his eyes always seemed to be looking directly through people. Except when he looked at you. Then they felt entirely too focused. Entirely too attentive. And entirely too dangerous.

His grin returned. Slow and cocky and infuriating. “Looks like you’re mine for the next few months, sweetheart.” You stared at him as you slowly closed the folder and smiled. The kind of smile that made junior associates run. “Oh, Jeong.” Yunho’s stomach immediately dropped. Because that tone never meant anything good. And he hated how it made his dick twitch. “What?” You stepped forward. Close enough to pat his shoulder. Close enough to watch his stupid confident smile falter slightly. “If you call me sweetheart one more time…” Yunho looked amused as you smiled wider. “I’m going to make sure every minute of this case feels like a personal attack.”

For a second silence hung between you. Then Yunho laughed. A real laugh. Low. Warm. Entirely too attractive. And to your absolute horror, the man looked thrilled. Like you’d just promised him a vacation instead of a threat. “Can’t wait, sweetheart.” You rolled your eyes and walked away toward the elevators and behind you, Yunho watched you go. Watched until the elevator doors closed. Watched until you disappeared completely. Then let out a slow breath. Because working with you every day for months was either going to be the best thing that had ever happened to him. Or the thing that finally killed him. And honestly? He wasn’t sure which outcome was more likely.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

By the time you returned from lunch, your irritation had somehow gotten worse. Which was impressive. You’d spent nearly forty minutes convincing yourself you were overreacting. Convincing yourself that being assigned to a case with Yunho wasn’t the end of the world. That you were both professionals. That you’d survived law school together. That you’d survived three years working in the same building. You could survive one case. Then you’d walked back into the office and the first thing you’d seen was Yunho leaning against someone’s desk laughing about something. The second thing you’d seen was him noticing you. The third thing was that stupid grin appearing immediately. And suddenly all your progress had disappeared.

Now you stood outside the managing partner’s office. Mr. Jeong’s office. The largest office in the building. Floor to ceiling windows overlooked downtown Chicago while shelves lined with legal awards and framed photographs occupied nearly every wall. Most people were intimidated walking in here. You weren’t. Mostly because you’d known the man for years. The door was already open and Mr. Jeong looked up from a stack of documents when you appeared and a smile immediately pulled at his mouth that looked too much like his son’s. Which should have been your first warning. “Ah.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Don’t ‘ah’ me.” His smile grew. Definitely a warning sign. “Good afternoon, Y/N.”

“You put me on a case with your son.”

“Yes.”

“No explanation?”

“No.”

You stared and he stared back completely unbothered as you dropped into the chair across from his desk. “Why?” The older attorney set down his pen. “Because you’re both excellent attorneys.”

“That’s the official answer?”

“It is.”

“I want the real answer.”

His eyes sparkled and you immediately regretted asking as Mr. Jeong leaned back in his chair. “You know, when you ask a question like that, it makes it sound like working with Yunho is some terrible punishment.”

“It is.”

The man laughed. “That’s harsh.”

“You raised him.”

“I tried my best.”

“You failed.”

“I know.” Another laugh and honestly, it was annoying how much amusement he got from this. You crossed your arms. “I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

“Mr. Jeong.”

He sighed dramatically. Then folded his hands on his desk. “The truth?”

“Yes.”

“You two are the best litigators I have.”

You opened your mouth but he raised a finger. “And before you argue, let me finish.” You immediately closed it. Mostly because he was giving you the same look he gave witnesses right before destroying their credibility. “The two of you disagree on everything.”

“Exactly.”

“Which is why you work.” You frowned as he continued. “Yunho sees details nobody else sees.” You hated how true that was. “You see angles nobody else sees.” Unfortunately also true. “You challenge each other.” You rolled your eyes. “We annoy each other.”

“That too.” The older man smiled. “But every single time I put the two of you in the same room, the work gets better.” You couldn’t immediately argue. Which was irritating and Mr. Jeong noticed. Of course he noticed. He noticed everything. “You know what your biggest problem is?”

“I have several.”

“You assume things about my son.” The sudden shift caught you off guard. “What?”

“You assume you already know who he is.”

You leaned back. “And I don’t?”

“No.” The answer came immediately. Without hesitation. Without doubt. And for some reason that bothered you. Mr. Jeong glanced toward the windows. Toward the city beyond them. “He works harder than anyone in this building.” You opened your mouth but he raised a hand again. “I know exactly what people say. Founder’s son.” His voice was calm. “Nepo hire.” Your expression shifted slightly. “Everything handed to him.” The older man smiled. A sadder smile this time. “They’ve been saying it since he first started law school.” Something uncomfortable settled in your stomach. Because if there was one thing you knew about Yunho… he never defended himself. Ever. He’d make a joke. Deflect. Smile. Move on. But he’d never actually defend himself.

Mr. Jeong looked back at you. “The reason I’m putting you together is because I trust both of you.” You nodded slowly. That answer at least felt genuine. Then the older attorney ruined it. “I also think it’ll be entertaining.” You groaned. “Seriously?”

“Very.” The man grinned again. “You should’ve seen his face when I told him.” Your eyes narrowed as Mr. Jeong looked entirely too pleased with himself. “What face?” His grin widened. “The kind that suggested he was trying very hard to pretend he wasn’t happy.” Now you looked suspicious. “Happy?”

“Oh, absolutely.”

“Why?”

The older man suddenly became fascinated by a document sitting on his desk. “Oh, who knows.”

“Mr. Jeong.”

“No idea.”

“You’re lying.”

“I’m a lawyer.”

“That’s not helping your case.”

“It never does.”

You stared at each other. And the older man looked remarkably smug as you stood. Because you weren’t getting anything useful out of him. “You’re impossible.”

“So I’ve been told.”

You moved toward the door, reaching for the handle. Then his voice stopped you. “Give him a chance, Y/N.” You paused as Mr. Jeong’s expression had softened. Only a little. But enough. “A chance to what?” His smile returned. Smaller this time. “To genuinely surprise you.” You rolled your eyes and shook your head as you walked out. But for the rest of the afternoon, as annoying as it was, you couldn’t quite get those words out of your head.

Because for the first time in years, a tiny part of you wondered if maybe there was more to Yunho than the arrogant smartass who spent half his life trying to get under your skin. Unfortunately, that thought lasted exactly seven minutes. Because the moment you got back to your office, there was a sticky note on your monitor in familiar handwriting.

Don’t forget our strategy meeting after hours tonight, sweetheart. ❤️

You stared at it long and hard. Then immediately started plotting his murder.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

By five thirty, the office had settled into its usual evening rhythm. Some associates were packing up and heading home. Others were just beginning the second half of their day. The litigation department lived on caffeine, spite, and impossible deadlines, and today was no different. You had spent the last two hours buried beneath discovery documents, deposition transcripts, and a growing headache that felt suspiciously like the beginning of a migraine. Which was why you eventually abandoned your office in search of salvation. Specifically, a Red Bull.

The break room was mercifully empty when you walked in. At least for the first ten seconds. You opened the refrigerator. Found the can you’d stashed there that morning and immediately heard a familiar voice behind you. “Please tell me that’s not your dinner.” You glanced over your shoulder. Danny. Of course. He stood in the doorway carrying a stack of files under one arm. His tie was loosened and his sleeves were rolled up. The picture of an overworked attorney trying very hard to impress someone. Namely you.

“It has vitamins.”

Danny laughed. “That’s not how vitamins work.”

“It is when you’re desperate.”

“You know, normal people eat food.”

You cracked the can open. “Normal people aren’t handling four cases and a psychotic partner.”

“Fair point.”

The two of you fell into easy conversation while you leaned against the counter sipping your drink. Danny was nice. Maybe a little eager. Maybe a little obvious. But nice. The kind of guy who remembered birthdays and probably called his mother every Sunday. Unfortunately for him, he had made the mistake of developing a crush on someone who worked directly across the hall from Yunho. A mistake Yunho was becoming increasingly aware of. Because at that exact moment, Yunho stepped into the break room and stopped.

The sight before him made something unpleasant settle in his chest. You standing beside the counter. Red Bull in hand. Skirt riding up a little. Laughing. And Danny standing entirely too close. Smiling entirely too much. Looking entirely too interested. For a moment, Yunho considered turning around. Walking away. Being mature. Then Danny reached over and brushed something off your sleeve and suddenly maturity became significantly less appealing.

“Well.”

Both you and Danny turned as Yunho stood in the doorway. One hand tucked into his pocket. Expression casual. The kind of casual that usually meant trouble and you immediately sighed. “No.”

“No what?”

“No whatever you’re about to do.”

His smile widened as Danny looked between the two of you. Confused. Concerned. Possibly afraid. Smart man. Yunho ignored him completely. Instead he walked directly toward the coffee machine. “You know,” he said, “I was wondering why productivity suddenly dropped on this floor.”

Danny blinked. “What?”

Yunho pressed a button on the machine. “Oh, nothing.” The machine whirred as you narrowed your eyes. Because you knew that tone. “So what was the cause?” Danny asked and Yunho looked over his shoulder. Smiling. “Apparently extended social visits during work hours.”

You nearly laughed despite yourself. Danny looked offended. “I was grabbing files.”

“Mm.”

“I was.”

“Of course.”

Danny frowned again. “You got a problem?” Dangerous question. Very dangerous question. Because Yunho’s smile never slipped. Not even slightly. “I don’t think I said I did.”

“You implied it.”

“I implied many things.”

Danny’s jaw tightened as you pinched the bridge of your nose. Because this was exactly what you didn’t need. Two men posturing in the break room like they were in a nature documentary. Somewhere a narrator was probably explaining mating rituals as Yunho finally turned around. Coffee in hand. Expression pleasant. Far too fucking pleasant. “How long have you worked here now, Danny?” The younger associate frowned. “Four months.”

“Interesting.”

Danny looked even more confused. “What is?”

Yunho took a sip. “The confidence.”

You closed your eyes. There it is. There was the antagonizing. Subtle enough that nobody could technically accuse him of anything. But sharp enough to draw blood. Danny folded his arms. “What exactly is that supposed to mean?”

Yunho grinned. God, he was annoying when he grinned like that because he looked even more attractive. “It means four months is impressive.” Danny stared. You stared. Even Yunho seemed amused by his own answer. “You’re impossible,” you muttered and immediately his eyes found yours. And just like that, all his attention shifted. The irritation. The jealousy. The possessiveness he’d been fighting all afternoon. Hidden again. Buried beneath that infuriating grin. “You say the sweetest things.”

You rolled your eyes as Danny looked between the two of you. Then realization slowly crossed his face. Not complete realization. But enough. Enough to notice something was off. Enough to notice that Yunho watched you differently. Enough to notice that Yunho had entered the room focused entirely on him and somehow ended up focused entirely on you. Yunho noticed the realization too. Which was exactly why he smiled even wider. A warning disguised as amusement. Danny wasn’t stupid. “Right,” Danny said awkwardly, gathering his files. “I’ve got to finish those motions.”

“Good luck,” Yunho said as he left and silence settled over the room as you slowly turned toward Yunho. “What was that?”

“What was what?”

“You know exactly what.”

“I really don’t.”

“Liar.”

Yunho leaned against the counter beside you. Close enough to annoy you. Far enough to remain technically innocent. His favorite game. “I was getting coffee.”

“You were antagonizing Danny.”

“He seems sensitive.”

Yunho took another sip of his coffee as you took another sip of your Red Bull. The silence between you wasn’t comfortable. It never was. Not because it was awkward. Because it always felt like something was happening beneath it. Some current neither of you acknowledged. Some invisible tug of war that had existed for years. You were glaring at him and Yunho seemed entirely unbothered by that fact.

“What?” you asked.

“What?”

“You’re staring.”

His mouth twitched. “I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

“Maybe you’re just distracting.”

You groaned immediately. “There he is.”

“There who is?”

“The world’s most annoying attorney.”

“Thank you.”

“It wasn’t a compliment.”

“I’ll take what I can get.”

You rolled your eyes. A habit he was personally responsible for. For a moment neither of you moved. Then Yunho’s expression shifted slightly. Not enough that most people would’ve noticed. But you knew him. You’d known him for years. You knew when he was about to say something annoying. You knew when he was about to start a fight. You knew when he was about to push your buttons just because he could. And right now? Something else flickered behind his eyes. Something sharper.

His gaze drifted toward the door Danny had disappeared through. Then back to you. “You know he’s wants to fuck you, right?” You nearly choked on your drink. “Jesus fucking Christ Yunho.” The room felt smaller all of a sudden. The air heavier. Like something had shifted. You could feel it as Yunho pushed away from the counter and took a step closer and you took another drink from your Red Bull. Mostly to give yourself something to do. Yunho’s coffee had long been forgotten. It sat abandoned on the counter while he leaned against it beside you.

His gaze drifted over your face before he suddenly asked, “What happened to Kevin?” You blinked, furrowing your brows. The question caught you completely off guard. “What?”

“Kevin.” He shrugged. “The boyfriend. Haven’t seen him come by in a while.”

You narrowed your eyes. “Why do you know his name?” Yunho immediately realized his mistake. Because he absolutely shouldn’t know his name. Not with the confidence he’d just said it. Not unless he’d been paying attention. A lot of attention. Which unfortunately he had. For years. His recovery came quickly. “He picked you up from work like fifty times.” That was fair. Kevin had practically lived in the firm’s lobby for a year. “Why?” Yunho looked down at his coffee. Acting casual. “No reason.”

“He’s gone.”

Something sharp flickered behind Yunho’s eyes at your answer. Gone. As in gone gone. “When?”

“Months ago.” That got his attention. “Months?” You nodded. “Five.” Yunho stared at you. Five months. You’d been single for five months. And somehow he was only finding out now. For a brief moment he wondered if he’d actually died and nobody told him. Then he remembered he was supposed to be acting normal. So instead he asked, “What happened?”

You sighed. The kind of sigh that carried old irritation. “He cheated.” Yunho’s jaw tightened. Not because he was surprised. He wasn’t. He’d known. Hell, he’d been the one who made sure you found out. An anonymous email. Photos attached. No name. No explanation. Just evidence. Enough evidence that Kevin never had a chance of talking his way out of it. To this day you had no idea who sent it and Yunho intended to keep it that way. “He cheated,” you repeated, shaking your head. “A year and a half together and apparently that wasn’t enough.”

Yunho looked away. Because if he looked directly at you right now he was going to say something reckless. Something honest. And honesty around you had always been dangerous. “You have terrible taste in men.” The words slipped out before he could stop them and you laughed. A genuine laugh. The first one he’d heard from you in a long time. “Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“I’m serious.”

“You think every guy is terrible.”

“No.”

You tilted your head. “No?”

Yunho looked back at you slowly. And something in his expression started shifting. Softening. Dangerously. “No,” he said quietly. “Just the ones you date.” The laugh died in your throat and neither of you moved as Yunho’s gaze dropped briefly. Just for a second. Taking in the skirt you’d worn that morning again. The one he’d been trying not to notice all day. Then his eyes lifted back to yours. “You settle.”

Your eyebrows pulled together. “What?”

“You settle.” His voice remained calm. “You keep picking men who don’t deserve you.” For once there wasn’t a joke attached. No sarcasm. No smirk. Just honesty. Raw and unfiltered. And somehow that was far more dangerous than any of his usual flirting. He shook his head, a quiet laugh escaping him. Almost disbelieving. As if he couldn’t believe he was having this conversation. “You know what the problem is?”

“What?”

His smile returned. Smaller this time. Less cocky and more personal. “The second someone gets your attention they stop trying.”

“What is that supposed to mean?”

Yunho looked away briefly. Because he knew exactly what it meant. It meant he couldn’t imagine taking you for granted. Couldn’t imagine looking elsewhere. Couldn’t imagine spending years wanting someone only to risk losing them. When he looked back at you, his gaze had darkened, something settling there you couldn’t quite decipher just yet. “If I had you in my bed every night….” He leaned down, moving closer until his mouth was right at your ear. “no other woman would exist to me.”

It’s like your brain just stopped computing. His words slammed into you like a truck and you had no idea how to respond to that. Especially when the feel of his lips just barely brushing your ear still lingered as a cough cleared from the doorway. Yunho backed away from you casually. Like he hadn’t almost had you pinned to the counter. Mr. Jeong stood in the doorway, his gaze going back and forth. First you. Then his son. Then back again with a hint of amusement. “Am I interrupting something.”

“Not at all.” Yunho picked his coffee back up. “I was just asking Y/N if she’s coming to my place tonight so we can start briefing and going over our new case.” He looked way too smug. “Excuse me?” You broke out of your daze quickly, glaring at him. “I am not going over alone to your place. We can go to my place. My roommate will be home but he shouldn’t bother us.” Roommate. Yunho knew exactly who you were talking about. Wooyoung. Yunho had seen him visiting you a few different times back in law school. He also brought you lunch sometimes now. Always had thick eyeliner. Tattoos. A wicked little smirk he liked to throw at anyone who piqued interest.

“Sounds like a plan.” Yunho grinned again and his father gave you both one last look before walking away. You groaned. Last thing you needed was to be alone or semi alone with Yunho outside of work.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

“I need you to stay home tonight.” You were practically begging into your phone. Wooyoung snorted obviously intrigued and confused. “And here I was planning to get my back blown out tonight.”

“Woo, I’m serious.” You hissed and looked up catching Yunho in his office through the glass wall. He noticed you and smirked and had the audacity to wave at you. “Look…. I have this new case. It’s a big one and…..” You paused. Hesitated. “I have to… I have to do it with Yunho.” The silence on the other end of the call was deafening for one second. Two. Three. Four. “OH MY GOD!” Wooyoung laughed, actually cackled. “You’re kidding me. You’ve wanted to climb that man like a tree since law school.”

“I HAVE NOT.” You didn’t mean to yell. One of the newer attorneys passing by your office jumped at your outburst which to your luck also caught Yunho’s attention. “I have not.” You repeated much lower this time and you could practically hear Wooyoung roll his through the phone. “Please.” He scoffed. “You told me yourself that you and I quote, want to choke him with that annoying tie and make him beg for it.”

You gasped. “I was drunk.” You hissed. It was on Wooyoung’s birthday. Right after you left your ex. Turns out all your dirty little secrets weren’t so secret with tequila in your system. “Drunk words are true thoughts or whatever.” Wooyoung said and you just know he was grinning. “I hate him!” You snapped which at this point wasn’t true at all. He annoyed you most the time. Made you question whether you wanted to slam his face into a wall or drop to your knees. And after Mr. Jeong told you to give his son a chance…. No. Absolutely not.

“If you hate him that just means the sex will be amazing.” Wooyoung was enjoying this way too much. “There will be no sex.” You immediately regretted saying that because of course. Of course! The devil himself was leaning in your office doorway, brow raised looking far too amused at whatever parts of the conversation he was picking up. “Just be home.” You told Wooyoung before ending the call and clearing your throat. “What do you want? Other than eavesdropping.”

Yunho let out a laugh under his breath and that sound immediately made you suspicious. “What?” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Nothing.” He shrugged but he was smiling too smugly for your liking. “You’re smiling.”

“Am I?”

“You are literally smiling.”

His grin only widened. Which meant he was absolutely about to be annoying. Wonderful. Fan fucking tastic. You crossed your arms. “Spit it out, Jeong.” Yunho tilted his head slightly, that damned silver blonde hair falling across his forehead as his gaze flicked briefly toward your phone before returning to you. “Well,” he said casually, “I just found one part of that conversation particularly interesting.”

Your stomach dropped and you muttered under your breath. You were going to kill Wooyoung. And Yunho. “Oh no.”

“Oh yes.” His smile sharpened. “The part where you informed whoever that was that there would be no sex.” Heat immediately flooded your face. “Jesus Fucking Christ Yunho.” You were starting to wish you got paid for every time he got that out of you.

“So there was sex on the table at some point?”

“There was never sex on the table.”

“Interesting wording.”

“Yunho.”

“Just asking questions.”

“You are a lawyer. You get paid to twist words.”

“True.” His eyes sparkled with amusement. “Still doesn’t answer my question.” You stared at him, eye twitching and he just stared right back. Completely shameless. And the worst part? He looked unfairly good doing it. You hated that your brain insisted on being horny every time he was around. You pointed toward the door. “Get out.”

Yunho laughed. A real one. Warm and Low. And unfortunately dangerously attractive. “See, now I’m curious.”

“You should be billing hours.”

“I am billing hours.”

“You are standing in my office harassing me.”

“Multitasking.”

“That isn’t how billing works.”

“It is when you’re talented.”

You made a noise somewhere between a sigh and a threat and Yunho’s grin somehow widened further. Then, unfortunately, his gaze drifted lower. Only for a second once again. But you caught it. The way his eyes flicked over the way your skirt rode up from sitting and your pulse did something stupid.

“So,” he said.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what I was going to say.”

“I know enough.”

His eyes narrowed playfully. “You know, for someone who claims to hate me, you spend an impressive amount of energy thinking about me.”You nearly choked. “Excuse me?” You wanted the floor to open up and swallow you whole. Immediately. Right now. “I’m just wondering…..” You immediately cut him off. “About what?” His gaze held yours. “Whether you’ve really hated me all these years.” The question caught you off guard. And for a moment the office felt quieter. The sounds of phones ringing and conversations outside seeming farther away. You looked away first. A big mistake on your part. Because Yunho noticed everything. He always had. A slow smile tugged at one corner of his mouth. “There it is.”

“There what is?” You snapped.

“You didn’t answer.”

You hated that he was right. You hated it even more because you weren’t entirely sure what the answer was anymore as Yunho pushed away from the doorway. “See you at your place.” He turned to walk back to his office. The two of you only had an hour before you got off. “You don’t even know where I live.” You called after him and Yunho didn’t even glance back as he answered.

“Don’t I.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The entire drive home was torture. Not because of traffic. Not because downtown Chicago was a nightmare at six o’clock. But because every single red light gave your brain more time to replay the conversation and how Yunho asked whether you’ve really hated him all these years. You tightened your grip on the steering wheel. Ridiculous. Completely ridiculous.

Seven years of knowing Yunho Jeong and somehow that stupid question had managed to lodge itself directly inside your skull. You’d spent years calling him arrogant. Annoying. Insufferable. None of those things were technically lies. But lately… things felt different. And you hated that.

By the time you pulled into the parking garage beneath your apartment building,you had a headache. Perfect. Exactly what you needed before spending an entire evening trapped with Yunho. You grabbed your bag from the passenger seat and headed upstairs and the second you stepped through the apartment door, the smell hit you. Pizza. You closed your eyes. Thank God.

“Kitchen.” Wooyoung’s voice carried through the apartment as you kicked off your heels near the door and followed it. Sure enough, Wooyoung was leaning against the kitchen island wearing an oversized hoodie and sweatpants, a slice of pepperoni in one hand while two pizza boxes sat open on the counter. His eyes immediately found you and narrowed. “Oh.”

You froze. “What?”

Wooyoung pointed his pizza at you. “You’re spiraling.”

“I am not.”

“You absolutely are.”

You dropped your bag onto one of the stools. “I’m fine.” Wooyoung laughed as he took a bite. “Liar.”

“I’m not lying.”

“You walked into this apartment like someone just told you the IRS was outside.”

You glared at him as Wooyoung took another bite. Still staring. Still judging. Still entirely too observant for your liking. Then his eyes widened like a lightbulb went off in his head. “Oh my God.” You immediately regretted everything. “What now?”

“You really do want him.”

“No.”

“YOU DO.”

“I DON’T.”

Wooyoung practically slapped the counter. “You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You do.”

“I don’t.”

“You literally sound twelve.”

You grabbed a paper plate. “I’m getting pizza.” Wooyoung gasped at you. “You are avoiding the conversation.” You shook your head as you grabbed two slices. “I’m hungry.” You shoved a slice into your mouth as Wooyoung folded his arms then smirked. A dangerous smirk. The kind that usually meant somebody’s life was about to become significantly more difficult. “Did something happen?”

“No.”

“You hesitated.”

“I did not.”

“You absolutely did.”

You sighed dramatically. Because unfortunately something had happened. Not a big thing. Not really. Just enough things. Enough tiny moments. Enough comments. Enough looks. Enough questions. Enough of Yunho being… Yunho. And now your brain refused to shut up about it. Refused to forget the way his lips felt grazing your ear…. Wooyoung’s eyes narrowed further. “What did he say?” You stared at your pizza. Bad sign. Very bad sign. Because now Wooyoung looked genuinely interested. “Oh, this is serious.”

You chewed at your pizza, hesitant before swallowing. “He told me… he told me if he…” you could still hear the way his voice had dropped when he said it. “If he had me in bed every night then… no other woman would exist to him.” The silence was loud because Wooyoung was never silent and somehow now…. he was speechless. You watched him blink. Once. Twice. Then he slowly set his pizza down on the counter. “Oh.”

You hated that response. “What?”

“Nothing.”

“Woo.”

“Nothing.”

“Wooyoung.”

His eyes snapped back to yours. “Y/N.” You narrowed your eyes at him. “Why are you looking at me like that?” He grinned. “Because I think I just witnessed the moment your life became a romantic comedy. A very hot romantic comedy.” You groaned. “Oh my God. Shut up.”

“No, seriously.” He pointed at you. “Do you have any idea how insane that is. He was flirting. Practically throwing himself at you.” You shook your head in complete denial. “He was not.”

“Yes he was.”

“No he wasn’t.”

Wooyoung stared at you a second before shaking his head. “Jesus Christ.” You groaned. “What now?” He rolled his eyes in pure exasperation. “You really don’t see it.” Your brows furrowed, your voice muffled around the bite of pizza. “See what?”

“The fact that Yunho Jeong has been down catastrophically bad for you since law school.”

You choked a little and pointed your pizza at him. “Don’t say that.”

“Make me.”

“You are impossible.”

“Again,” Wooyoung said, “he practically through himself at you.”

“He did not.”

“Y/N.”

“He did not.”

“Y/N.”

You groaned loudly. Because the problem wasn’t that Wooyoung was wrong. The problem was that for the first time… you weren’t entirely convinced he was. Your gaze drifted toward the clock on the microwave. Yunho would be here soon. And suddenly the thought of being alone with him felt very different than it had this earlier. Dangerously different.

You quickly finished eating your pizza and didn’t even glance at Wooyoung as you headed towards the bathroom. “I’m getting a shower before Satan gets here.” The bathroom door slammed shut behind you. Your clothes came off achingly slow. You sat your phone on the sink counter, letting music play to try and clear your head. Steam poured into the room as the water rushed out the shower head. Scolding and too hot. You adjusted it and stepped in letting the water try and fail to wash away your spiraling thoughts.

“He was not throwing himself at me.” You didn’t believe yourself anymore though. Because in the comfort of the shower you started to think. How in law school Yunho would always been standing outside your civil procedure class and would finally go in once you showed up. How he once brought handed you coffee on graduation day because he happened to have an extra but it tasted like your favorite. How he mentioned his dad’s law firm had an opening and you thought he was trying to annoy you and then next day you got a call from Mr. Jeong himself…..

“Oh my god…” you stopped washing your hair as the realization slammed into you. “he was throwing himself at me.” Holy shit. It should have been obvious. Your heart was pounding now because Yunho on his way over. You were both about to spend insane amounts of time together in the near future for this case. And he likes you. “Fuck!” You almost slipped, your hand shooting out your grab at the shower curtain.

What were you supposed to do? What if you were crazy? Imagining it? What if Wooyoung had gotten inside your head? But even as the thoughts came, they felt weaker. Less convincing. Because the truth was becoming impossible to ignore. The truth was that this wasn’t just physical anymore. Wasn’t just finding him attractive. Wasn’t just noticing the way his suits fit. Or the way his hair fell into his eyes. Or the way his voice always seemed lower when he spoke directly to you.

Somewhere along the way, something had changed. Something dangerous. Something that made your pulse race every time he looked at you too long. Something that made the thought of him showing up at your front door feel terrifying and exciting all at once.

You closed your eyes. And finally admitted the thing you’d been avoiding for years. “Shit.” Because the problem wasn’t that Yunho liked you. The problem was that you liked him too. Because now every want and needy thought you’ve ever had about him shifted from just physical attraction to something else. Something crazy. Completely and totally insane. “Oh my god.” You wanted him too and that realization refused to leave.

Even after you finished washing your hair. Even after you stood beneath the spray for another five minutes pretending your life hadn’t just completely unraveled. By the time you finally shut the water off, your fingers were wrinkled and your thoughts were somehow worse. “Great.” You grabbed a towel. “Fantastic.” You wrapped another towel around your hair as you stepped out of the shower. “Wonderful.” The mirror was fogged over completely. Which was probably for the best. You didn’t need to see the expression on your own face right now.

Because apparently after seven years of arguing with Yunho, you had finally realized you had feelings for him. Feelings. Actual feelings. You wanted to throw yourself out a window. But unfortunately you lived on the eighteenth floor. You tightened the towel around yourself and stormed toward the door. This was Wooyoung’s fault. Entirely his fault. If he’d just kept his mouth shut, you’d still be blissfully ignorant. Or trying to be anyways.

The second the bathroom door opened, you were already talking. “This is your fault.” You marched into the hallway. “You couldn’t just mind your own business for once in your life.” The living room came into view. “And now I have to spend the entire evening pretending I don’t have feelings for….” You screamed. The kind of scream usually reserved for horror movies and home invasions. Because Yunho was sitting on your couch now looking equally startled for approximately half a second before he started laughing.

“Oh my God!” Your hand flew to your chest, gripping your towel. “What the fuck are you doing here?” Across the room, Wooyoung was absolutely useless. In fact, he looked delighted. “There she is!” You glared at your best friend before your gaze snapped back toward Yunho. Which was a mistake. A huge mistake. Because somehow seeing him outside the office felt different. The charcoal suit jacket was gone. Tossed over the back of the couch. His tie hung loose around his neck. The top button of his white dress shirt had disappeared. The sleeves were pushed up to his forearms. And somehow that looked more intimate than if he’d shown up wearing nothing but sweatpants.

You hated that thought immediately as Yunho’s eyes flicked over you, dragging down and staring at where the fluffy pink towel you had ended just barely covering anything. Then he looked directly at the ceiling and a muscle jumped in his jaw. And of course Wooyoung noticed. The bastard looked like Christmas had come early. “You know,” Wooyoung said casually, “most people greet guests when they arrive.”

“I was in the shower!”

“Clearly.”

You groaned. Because somehow this day had gone from bad to catastrophic. And the worst part? The absolute worst part? You’d just spent twenty minutes realizing you had feelings for Yunho. Then immediately walked into your living room wearing nothing but a towel. Wooyoung looked between the two of you grinning as you backed toward the hallway, tightening your grip on the towel again. “I’m getting dressed.”

“Probably for the best,” Wooyoung agreed and you glared at him. Then at Yunho. Then immediately regretted looking at Yunho because he was already looking at you. “Five minutes,” you muttered before disappearing down the hall and into your room and slamming the door behind you.

Silence settled over the apartment. Or at least it should have. Instead, Yunho found himself staring at the wall. His brain had stopped cooperating somewhere around the moment you’d walked into the living room. Not because of the towel. Well. Not entirely because of the towel. It was the fact that you’d looked completely caught off guard. Completely real. Not the sharp tongued attorney who spent every workday arguing with him. Not the woman who could dismantle opposing counsel with a single question.

Just you.

Then his mind drifted. The way when you had turned around he could see a glimpse of your ass peaking from the bottom of the towel. “Well,” Wooyoung’s voice snapped him out of it. “I’m going to my room. I have a new season….” Yunho stopped listening again as Wooyoung disappeared down the same hall you had. He’s wanted you for seven years. Obsessed over you. Yearned over you. Might of moaned your name a few times during one night stands. And now he was sitting here in your apartment and had the perfect opportunity to finally try and have you. “Shit.” Why did he feel nervous? He doesn’t get nervous.

The apartment felt strangely quiet when you stepped back into the hallway. For a moment you simply stood there. Yunho was exactly where you’d left him. Sitting on the couch. One arm stretched across the back cushion. The case file sitting untouched on the coffee table. And he was staring at absolutely nothing. Lost somewhere inside his own head. You’d never known Yunho to be quiet.

The floor creaked beneath your foot and his head turned. And immediately his eyes found you. His gaze dropped before he could stop it. Legs. Bare from mid thigh down. Your black shorts doing nothing to cover them. His jaw tightened and his eyes immediately snapped back to yours. And for the first time all day, Yunho looked caught. Actually caught. Not cocky. Not smug. Caught.

Something about that made your stomach flip. “Nice staring,” you called him out and his eyebrow lifted. “Nice outfit.” You rolled your eyes. “There he is.” He grinned, eyes lighting up. “Missed me?”

“Not even a little.”

“Liar.” The word came automatically. Like breathing. Like every conversation you’d ever had together. Yet somehow tonight it felt different. Softer and more familiar. Your gaze drifted toward the coffee table. Toward the thick litigation folder sitting there. Thank God. Something normal. “Did you at least bring the case file?” Yunho followed your gaze and let out a quiet laugh. “I did.”

“Good.”

“Look at us.”

You frowned. “What?”

“Being responsible.”

“We’re attorneys.”

“Debatable.”

You snorted before you could stop yourself and Yunho’s expression immediately brightened. Like he’d just won something. Idiot. You hesitated another second before finally crossing the room. Every step felt weirdly loud and noticeable. The couch suddenly looked much smaller than it was. You hated that. You hated it even more because Yunho seemed perfectly relaxed. Until you sat down. Then his entire body went subtly rigid. The cushion dipped beneath your weight, thigh ending up far closer to his than either of you probably expected.

The scent of your shampoo drifted through the air as you reached forward grabbing the case file before your brain could focus on anything else. “Okay,” you said, opening it onto your lap. “Work.”

“Work,” Yunho agreed. The word sounded strangely disappointed but you ignored that as you flipped hrough the first few pages. “Corporate fraud.”

“Mm.”

“Thousands of pages of discovery.”

“Mm.”

You glanced over but Yunho wasn’t looking at the file. He was looking at you. You cleared your throat finding it harder now to focus on anything other than your newly accepted feelings for him. “So…” you looked back towards the file, scanning words but not reading any of them. “this is a pretty big case…”

“I want you.”

You froze and you could practically hear the panic in Yunho’s voice. “Shit…” he did not mean to say that out loud. Not like that. “I mean…. I uh…” he shook his head. Because fuck it. “Actually…. Yeah. I want you. Fuck.” He let out a humorless laugh. “It’s driving me crazy for the better part of a decade.” When he looked at you, you were still staring at the file. Frozen. Shocked. “Look…. I know you…. Kind of hate me. I mean…. I do…”

“I don’t hate you.” Your voice was quiet, heart beating so loud you were sure Wooyoung could hear it from his room. Because Wooyoung was right. Your shower spiraling was right. Yunho had feelings for you. “I don’t think I ever hated you. You could just be…. a pain in the ass.” Yunho snorted despite his confession making him nervous. “I was only like that because I never wanted someone like that before. And I couldn’t afford distractions in law school. So I… tried blocking you out… it just made it worse.”

You turned to him, narrowing your eyes. “So you just decided to be like some third grader pulling at my pigtails.” He laughed then. A full on real laugh. “Something like that.” You scoffed, shaking your head. “You’re an absolute idiot.” It got silent for a moment. You both just stared at each other until Yunho looked away. “Idiot might be understatement. I…. there’s something you should know.” He hesitated. Because what he was about to say was probably gonna make actually hate him. But he couldn’t shoot his shot without the truth being out. Otherwise it would eat him alive.

“What is it?” You furrowed because he liked serious. Like what he had to say was more serious than his arguments defending anyone in court. “I knew your boyfriend cheated on you. I saw him…”

“It was you.” You cut him off. Of course it was Yunho. He never could mind his own business. “You sent me that email. The pictures….. what you just…. followed him?” Yunho scoffed like he was offended. “I didn’t follow anyone.” He shrugged. “I hired a private investigator.”

“Oh my god…” you laughed. Because what were you supposed to say? Were you meant to be mad? Mad that he caught your boyfriend cheating and found a somewhat weird to tell you? “you’re obsessed with me.” You were joking. Kind of. Mainly teasing but Yunho didn’t deny. In fact his demeanor shifted. He sat up, and when his gaze met yours again…. it had darkened. Sharpened into something heated and hungry that made your stomach twist and your thighs to almost clench together.

“I told you…” the tone of his voice had dropped. Which was dangerous. Because Yunho’s voice was already deep. Intoxicating if you will. But right now….. you couldn’t help but remember the break room and that same tone against your…. “that if you had me in your bed no other woman would exist to you.” You finished for him and it was like all that tension that built for the last seven years snapped.

“Wrong.” Yunho’s gaze dropped to your legs, taking his time to work his way up, pausing at your lips and staying there. “No other woman exist to me since that first day you told me to fuck off.”

You knew the two of you should probably talk. Actually talk. Go over everything. Have that real, I like you, you like me, speech…. but you were over it. Seven years of him driving you crazy. Seven years of him obsessing over you…. your own gaze fell to the loose tie around his neck and you remembered that little drunk confession you gave Wooyoung.

“What are you….” Yunho froze when you reached out and grabbed his tie. You gripped it, thumb rubbing against the material. “You want to know what I was talking about…. when you were eavesdropping at work?” You looked at him and your gaze was almost as dark and hungry as his. Yunho gulped, remembering that phone call. He hadn’t heard much other than you proclaiming no sex. “Wooyoung was reminding me of a dirty little secret.”

“Yeah?” Yunho was gone. He was gone the second you grabbed his tie. You could tell him to get on the floor right now and bark me he probably would. Because the way you’re looking at him. Like you’re imagining every detail of him under his clothes. Like you could see his dick twitch in his pants when you tugged his tie a little. “Mhm.” You started scooting closer on the couch, your thigh brushing against his leg now. “Apparently I told him I wanted to choke you with this tie” you gave his tie another tug for emphasis. “and make you beg for it.”

You both just stared at each other for a moment before leaned his head back, let out a groan and then looked back at you completely undone. “Fuck me.” He grabbed you, your grip on his tie tightening as he pulled you into his lap. Your lips met messy. Desperately. Needy. You moaned into because now you could feel him. Feel the bulge in his pants where his dick had started getting hard the second you grabbed his tie. Could feel his dick twitch when your tongues collided. And you moaned when he pulled back just enough to start kissing down your neck, lips grasping at any skin available within the tank top you had on.

“Fuck…” Yunho was the one moaning now as you kept your grip on his tie and started rocking, grinding. His dick aching in his pants as you rode him. “You gonna beg for me, Yunho?” He wanted to say no. It was instinct. He never begged before in his life. He always had control. But for you…. “Make me.”

“I bet you don’t last two minutes.” You said it so sure of yourself and that alone made him want to give in. He watched you, pupils blown, dick practically screaming to be let out and buried inside you already. You reached down with the free hand that wasn’t still gripping his tie and palmed him through his pants. His bulge alone was big and you could only imagine what he had zipped up underneath. And Yunho? He just sat there, his breath already uneven as your fingers worked at his belt and zipper with deliberate slowness.

The apartment around you felt charged, the spring air from Chicago filtering through a cracked window doing little to cool the heat building between your bodies. You tugged his pants and underwear down just enough, freeing his dick. It sprang out, thick and heavy, the tip already flushed and aching with a bead of precum that caught the low light.

A low groan rumbled from his chest the moment your hand wrapped around him, and you felt it twitch hard against your palm, pulsing with need as if it had a mind of its own. You stroked him once, twice, dragging your thumb over the slit to spread that slickness, savoring how his hips jerked forward involuntarily. His tie remained clenched in your other hand, anchoring him in place while you worked him in unhurried strokes that made his thighs tense and his knees weaken slightly. Every vein along his length throbbed under your grip, the heat of him radiating into your skin as you took your time exploring every inch.

You shifted closer on the couch, using the head of his dick to hook the edge of your shorts and panties and with a slow push, you moved the fabric aside, exposing your soaked pussy to the cool air. Instead of taking him inside you, you guided him between your folds, letting the length glide along your slick. The underside of his dick pressing right against your clit as you rocked your hips, using him like a toy to rub slow circles. Each pass sent sparks through you, your grip on his tie tightening while your strokes on him matched the rhythm.

Yunho's jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck standing out as he fought to stay still, but his dick kept twitching between your folds, leaking more with every glide. You could feel the way his tip caught just slightly on your entrance before sliding up again, teasing without entering, building that unbearable friction against your swollen clit. His breathing grew ragged, eyes locked on where your bodies met, pupils blown wide with the effort of holding back as you kept the pace torturously steady, riding the length of him without letting him slip in, your clit grinding down on the ridge of his tip again and again in deliberate, dragging motions that made your own thighs quiver.

The wet sounds of your arousal coating him filled the room, mixing with his soft curses under his breath. “Fuck sweetheart..” His control frayed at the edges with every pass, shoulders rigid, fingers digging into the couch cushions as he resisted the urge to thrust up into you. You edged him mercilessly, slowing your strokes whenever his dick pulsed too hard, drawing out the moment until the tension built in his body like a coiled spring. The pressure mounted in your own core too, each glide pushing you closer until your own orgasm hit. Your thighs shook, a soft cry escaping as you came against him, slick coating him further and dripping down him. That was when he broke.

“Fuck… please ok! Please let me fuck you,” Yunho gasped out, voice strained and desperate, his hands trembling as they gripped your hips. And the second you nodded, he moved. Strong hands gripped your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as he stood. He didn’t wait, didn’t tease, he lined up and impaled you down onto his dick in one deep thrust. The stretch burned in the best way, forcing a sharp cry from your throat as he filled you completely, thick and unyielding, your walls clenching around every inch of him.

He paused for a moment, letting you adjust to his size, then his fingers dug into your thighs and he started pounding up into you. Each thrust drove deep, the force making your body bounce against him while you clung to his tie and shoulders like a lifeline. The living room filled with the wet sounds of skin slapping against skin and there was no way Wooyoung wasn’t hearing all of this with the way your moans grew louder until you screamed his name, your pussy clenching hard as you squirted around him, soaking his dick and thighs in a rush of release that stained dripped and stained the carpet below you.

“Which one is your bedroom?” Yunho asked, his voice hoarse with need. Still buried inside you, “the…. one on the right down the hall…” you were breathless as he carried you there without pulling out, every step making him shift and press deeper, his dick nudging against sensitive spots and wedging against your g spot that had you gasping. He wasted no time getting you on the bed, his gaze catching site of the mirror angled perfectly toward it and grinned, dark and hungry as you both made quick haste of getting your clothes off, tossing them aside until nothing remained between you.

He grabbed you, pulling your body flush to his. “Look at the mirror,” he ordered, sinking to his knees between your legs. “Watch how I make you beg for it.” His tongue thrusted into your pussy in firm, wet strokes that had you arching instantly. You tangled your fingers in his hair, tugging at the bleached strands as the pleasure built fast and sharp. Your legs shook, cries spilling out, “fuck…. Yunho… please… please make me come…. I need…” you started grinding against his face and he didn’t let up until you shattered again, body trembling and pulsing around his tongue.

Yunho kissed his way back up your body, slow and deliberate, pausing when you eyed his dick and he smirked. “If you want a taste all you have to do is take it.” You shook your head, pulling him closer. “Next time,” you breathed, needing him inside you again too badly to wait. Too impatient for it. “Fuck…” he had to hold back from saying, Fuck I love you, instead, he flipped you onto your stomach, holding you down and positioning you to face the mirror.

The head of his dick teased between your pussy and ass, sliding back and forth in lazy passes that made you whimper and push back. After a minute of that torment he sank back into you with a single thrust, your walls instantly clenching around him as one of his hands fisted in your hair, tilting your head toward the reflection of the mirror. The sight of him over you, buried inside you staring back a painted sin. “Watch…. watch how my dick is about to make you mine.”

He started fucking you hard, hips snapping forward in deep, relentless strokes that had you babbling, begging, “harder…. harder….. deeper… Yunho please…” and he gave it to you. Hands gripping your waist, hard, as he grinded into you, “you feel so fucking good, sweetheart….” he paused for a moment just to feel you clenching around him, then, just as the pressure peaked, he pulled out and flipped you and folded you a little, your legs pressed up and over his shoulders.

He tapped his dick against your clit a few times before sinking back in, his hands moving your legs to pin your thighs down as you watched in the mirror as you started squirting again, making a mess over both of you. Ruining the new sheets you only bought a few days ago after Wooyoung spilled his iced coffee on your others. The sight spurred him on, his pace turning brutal. “You’re mine. Pussy… mine. All of you. Mine.” Maybe he was a little possessive.

Your back arched as another orgasm crashed through you, sobs and cries tearing free but Yunho didn’t stop. He kept pounding, chasing his own release until he buried himself deep and came with a groan, filling you until he you milked him almost dry then he collapsed on top of you, still buried inside, his weight comforting as you rubbed slow circles over his back, a soft chuckle escaping you. “You begged for it.” He lifted his head just enough to meet your eyes with a satisfied grin curving his own lips.

“So did you.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The next morning felt strange. Not bad strange. But an awkward kind of strange. For seven years, you and Yunho had existed in this bizarre limbo of arguments, tension, stolen glances, and denial. Now, after finally tearing down every wall between you, you were somehow expected to walk into Jeong & Partners and act normal. Which was proving significantly harder than either of you anticipated. Especially because Yunho was terrible at it.

“You are wearing the same suit.”

Yunho looked over from the driver’s seat. “So?” He hadn’t even gone home last night. After he had finally pulled himself out of you, you took another shower, that lead to you dropping to your knees and finally getting him in your mouth. Had an amused and smug little told you so looks thrown at you from Wooyoung. Slept together which lead you to find out that Yunho liked being the little spoon which was beyond hilarious with his size. Then he gave you no argument in letting him drive you both to work in his ridiculously expensive Mercedes.

You stared at him. “People will know.” Not that you really cared. “And?” And apparently Yunho didn’t either. You looked at him as pulled into the law firm parking garage and when he looked back at you after parking, you both burst out laughing.

Five minutes later, the elevator doors opened onto the twentieth floor and immediately, something felt off. Not wrong. Just… observant. Associates looked up from their desks. Assistants paused mid conversation. Even the receptionist seemed suspiciously interested in her computer screen. Nobody knew anything. But somehow everybody knew something.

You stepped out first with Yunho a few feet behind you. Both of you trying very hard to appear casual. Which probably would’ve worked if Yunho didn’t keep looking at you every thirty seconds as you headed toward your office. And you almost made it. But then Yunho’s eyes narrowed. Because across the floor, Danny appeared. Coffee in hand. Making a direct path toward you just like every morning. Only this morning was different. Because this morning, Yunho’s patience had completely disappeared.

Danny slowed as Yunho walked straight past him. Past several confused associates. Past two paralegals who immediately stopped pretending to work. Then he reached you and you barely had time to speak before his hand wrapped around your wrist. “What are you doing?”

“One second.”

“Yunho.”

He ignored you completely as he turned you toward him and kissed you. Right there in the middle of the litigation department. The entire floor collectively forgot how to breathe and when he finally pulled back, his forehead rested briefly against yours, a grin tugging at his mouth. Possessive and completely unrepentant. And entirely too pleased with himself.

“Mine,” he murmured softly and your face immediately flushed. “Yunho….”

“Just reminding you.” Then his eyes shifted past you. Right towards the frozen associate still holding two coffees. Yunho smiled bright and friendly. And definitely cocky. “Morning, Danny.”

Danny looked like someone had personally unplugged his soul. And without another word, Yunho straightened his jacket and continued walking toward his office as if he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in the middle of the firm. The silence lasted approximately three seconds. Then chaos erupted. Across the floor, associates started whispering. Phones appeared. Someone actually dropped a stack of files.

And from behind the glass walls of the managing offices, Mr. Jeong looked up from a contract. Watched his son disappear into his office. Watched you standing there frozen. Watched Danny questioning every life decision he’d ever made. Then the older man leaned back in his chair and shook his head, muttering to himself.

“Fucking finally.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

“Or watch,” you muttered under your breath, teasing, joking, half testing him which made Yunho’s dark eyes flick up to yours, slow and heated. “Would that bother you?” he murmured, pressing closer, his hand slipping lower now, to your hip. “If he did?” Your breath caught. “You’d be so quiet for me, wouldn’t you?” he said, voice lower now, lips brushing your ear. “So good.” His fingers moved again, slipping between your thighs now, barely touching, just enough to make your whole body ache as his fingers trailed slow and deliberate down the curve of your hip, barely brushing beneath the waistband of your shorts.

“Turn over,” he murmured, voice husky against your temple. You blinked, breath stalling. “What?” He nuzzled closer, lips skimming your cheek, your jaw. “On your stomach,” he whispered. “It’ll be quieter.” You swallowed hard, eyes flicking toward Mingi’s sleeping form. He hadn’t moved an inch, blanket tangled at his waist, mouth slightly open. Dead to the world. Still… “Yunho…” His hand slid lower, palm heavy as it squeezed your ass beneath the sheets. “You’ll keep your face in the pillow, and I won’t let the bed move.” His voice dipped even deeper, dark and slow like honey. “I’ll fuck you slow, baby. You just have to be good for me.”

You hated how fast your body responded, heat pooling between your legs, your breath already shaky. “But….”

“Do you trust me?”

Your heart thudded as you nodded.

“Then turn over.”

The sheets rustled softly as you rolled onto your stomach, cheek pressed into the cool pillowcase. Your pulse fluttered as Yunho eased the covers down your body, his hand dragging them slowly off your back and your hips. He bent low, lips pressing to your spine. “So quiet for me,” he murmured, kissing a trail down your back. “So good…” his hand slid back up your spine, this time bunching the oversized shirt you wore, his shirt, higher and higher until it was caught just beneath your breasts so he could lean over you, pressing a kiss between your shoulder blades, the weight of his body sinking deliciously against yours.

You felt him shift behind you, the unmistakable brush of him thick and hard, pressing between your thighs as he lined himself up. “I missed this,” he breathed, dragging the tip of his dick through your folds once… twice… before he pushed forward, slow, achingly slow and you gasped because you couldn’t help it as he filled you, the stretch so deep and perfect that your mouth parted in a soft, helpless moan.

Yunho froze for a second, buried inside you to the hilt before he chuckled low under his breath, his lips at your ear. “Baby…” he murmured, amusement laced with warning. “You trying to wake him up?” You whimpered into the pillow, biting your lip as he pulled out just enough to make you ache, then slid back in slow, grinding his hips against you with a low exhale. “I said quiet,” he whispered, his hand slipping beneath your shirt to palm your breast, fingers teasing your nipple until you were trembling. “You can do that for me, can’t you?”

You nodded into the pillow, your hands clutching the sheets as he started to move again, deep, slow thrusts that lit fire across every nerve. “You feel too good not to be loud,” he teased, his voice smug now, hips rolling smoother, harder. “But you don’t want Mingi to know how good I’m fucking you, do you?” Another quiet moan slipped out and Yunho grinned. “Thought so.”

You whimpered as he buried himself deeper. Every slow thrust had your body trembling beneath him, your legs spread just wide enough under the sheets to let him move the way he wanted, deliberate, controlled and deep. His hand remained curled under your shirt, cupping your breast, fingers rolling your nipple until your hips jerked back into him like muscle memory and another moan slipped from your lips, soft, breathy and desperate. And then Yunho’s hand moved. Smooth and sudden, he slid it from your breast up to your mouth, covering it gently but firmly.

“Shhh,” he murmured, lips brushing your ear, voice a slow whisper of smoke. “I told you to be quiet.” Your eyes fluttered shut. The weight of his body behind you, the heat of his hand over your mouth, the slow press of his dick filling you again and again, it was too much, too good, too risky. And across the room, Mingi shifted in the other bed making Yunho go still immediately, still buried inside you, hand frozen over your mouth. The only sound was the hum of the AC and the thunder in your ears.

Then… nothing. Mingi just turned over, muttered something incoherent in his sleep, and settled back into steady, oblivious breathing as Yunho leaned down, his chest against your back now, voice low and sinful. “Told you,” he whispered, lips curving into a smirk against your skin. “Even if he did wake up, he’d just go back to sleep.” But he didn’t pull his hand away. If anything, he pressed it firmer against your mouth, his other hand gripping your hip as he began to move again, slower, deeper thrusts that dragged along every inch of you.

He fucked you like he had all night, like his best friend wasn’t sleeping just a few feet away. Every time you gasped, he gave you a warning squeeze. Every time your body tightened around him, he whispered praise against your neck. “You’re so good for me,” he murmured, his pace never faltering. “So quiet, even when I know you wanna scream.”

Yunho’s thrusts stayed slow, but they’d grown heavier, more intentional. His hand stayed wrapped over your mouth, palm damp with the soundless moans you kept trying not to let out. The other was anchored at your hip now, keeping you in place, guiding every roll of his hips into yours with precision. He was breathing harder now, quiet exhales brushing your shoulder as he bent over you, his chest pressing to your back, his dick dragging deep with each measured thrust. And you didn’t hear it. You didn’t see it. But Yunho did.

A shift across the room. A faint creak of mattress springs. A sudden absence of snoring. Yunho glanced up from the curve of your spine, eyes lifting just over your shoulder toward the other bed and froze. Mingi. Eyes half lidded, face barely visible in the shadows. Awake and watching. He didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just stared across the dark room, one hand resting under the covers, the other loosely curled by his face. His expression was unreadable, half asleep or maybe just mesmerized, but he made no effort to look away.

And Yunho held the stare. His lips curled into the faintest smirk as he gave one slow, deliberate thrust, his hips grinding into you just enough to make your eyes roll back, a soft whimper muffled against his hand. You didn’t notice the shift. Didn’t notice the way Yunho’s attention was split now, half on you, half on his best friend watching silently from the dark as he bent lower again, lips brushing your ear. “You’re doing so good,” he whispered, voice silk and fire. “Being so quiet for me.”

And then, eyes still locked on Mingi’s, he thrust again, deeper this time and Mingi’s fingers twitched beneath the sheet making Yunho’s grin deepen. But you? You were too far gone, blissfully unaware, face buried in the pillow, body arching back into every punishingly slow stroke as Yunho licked his lips, gaze never breaking because he knew exactly what he was doing. He didn’t look away. Not when Mingi’s eyes stayed on him. Not when the blanket over Mingi shifted just slightly, just enough to catch the movement of his hand sliding lower beneath the sheets.

He watched. Controlled. Kept his rhythm steady. All while you writhed beneath him, unaware that your entire body had become a private performance. For him. And now for Mingi as well. You whimpered again, eyes squeezed shut, back arching helplessly against the slow, possessive drag of Yunho’s dick inside you. His hand was still over your mouth, his other gripping your hip so tight it would bruise by morning. His breath hitched once as he watched the outline of Mingi’s hand begin to move, slow and steady, under the blanket.

Yunho’s lips brushed your ear again, voice low, but there was something else behind it now. A sharpness. “You’re taking me so well, baby,” he whispered, just loud enough for both of you to hear. “So wet for me… always so ready.” You let out a muffled moan, head turning toward the pillow, desperate and overstimulated as Yunho’s gaze flicked back to Mingi. Still watching. Still moving under the sheets, hand clearly wrapped around his own dick. Good.

Without warning, Yunho slowly pulled out of you. You whimpered in protest, wriggling your hips back toward him, but he was already moving, shifting, rolling you onto your back with careful hands making You blink up at him, dazed. “Yunho?” He shushed you with a kiss, slow and soft, one hand brushing your hair out of your face. “Shhh. Want to see you.” Before you could answer, his hands gripped your thighs, spreading you open, lifting your legs up, bending them at the knees and hooking them over his broad shoulders.

You gasped. The stretch. The angle. The intimacy of it. Was almost overwhelming as he pushed back in making your hands fly to your mouth, eyes wide as his dick slid back inside you with one slow, perfect thrust. Yunho groaned, quiet but guttural, his eyes never leaving yours. His grip on your thighs tightened, jaw flexing as he pulled almost all the way out and pushed in again, deeper, smoother, harder. “You’re so tight like this,” he rasped. “So fucking perfect.”

You could barely breathe, barely think, caught between the sweet stretch and the shameful thrill of getting fucked just feet away from your boyfriend’s best friend. But he wasn’t sleeping. Mingi’s eyes were wide now, the blanket tugged a little higher up his chest as his hand moved steadily beneath it. He was panting, trying to stay silent, trying not to move the bed. And Yunho was watching every second of it like it was his own personal reward. He looked back down at you, smiling through grit teeth. “Look at you,” he whispered. “Trying so hard not to scream for me.”

You bit your lip hard. Your whole body was coiled tight, legs trembling where they hung over his shoulders, your nails digging into the sheets. And Yunho leaned down, folding you in half more, driving even deeper as his voice dropped to a murmur, for your ears alone. But his eyes stayed on Mingi. “You’re mine.” He murmured against your skin, his voice rough, ragged, but controlled just like everything else about him.

You moaned, quiet and ruined, your hands gripping the sheets like you were trying to stay grounded. And then he grinned. That crooked, dangerous grin he only wore when he knew he had all the power. “And my best friend,” he whispered, dipping closer, his lips brushing your jaw as his voice dropped to a low, amused purr, “is getting himself off to us right now.”

Your eyes flew open. “WHAT?” You tried to turn your head, but Yunho caught your jaw, holding it gently, kissing the corner of your mouth like he hadn’t just detonated a bomb in your chest. “Mmm mmm,” he murmured, voice like velvet sin. “Eyes on me, baby.” And then he started to really move. Not slow this time. Not soft. He drove into you with one powerful thrust, then another, his hips slamming against the back of your thighs with each stroke, the angle hitting so deep it had your mouth falling open in a silent cry.

“Now you’re being loud,” he groaned, burying himself to the hilt. “What happened to being quiet for me, huh?” You whimpered, blinking through tears as your entire body rocked beneath him as he leaned down again, pressing your legs further up, deeper inside you now, your body stretching around him, made to take him like this. “Can’t help it?” he cooed, taunting, lips curling against your cheek. “Knowing he’s over there watching me fuck you like this?”

You finally turned your head and saw Mingi. His eyes blown wide, cheeks flushed, chest rising and falling fast as he sat halfway up in bed now, one hand fisted under the covers, the other braced behind him. He looked wrecked. Desperate. Guilty and aroused all at once. And the sight of it made you choke on a gasp as Yunho kept moving, dragging a hand down your body, rolling your nipple between his fingers as he pounded into you. “Don’t stop now,” he groaned, kissing the corner of your mouth. “He’s already seen everything.”

Yunho was a man possessed now, hips driving into you like he was chasing a high he knew only you could give him. Your thighs trembled where they clung to his shoulders, every stroke sending waves of heat rippling through your core. You were clenching so hard around him, gasping with every thrust, your fingers tangled in the sheets like they were the only thing keeping you tethered. He felt it. He knew you were close. And so did Mingi who was still perched in bed, frozen but visibly falling apart, his chest rising and falling fast beneath his tank top, eyes locked on where Yunho was splitting you open.

Yunho turned his head just slightly, lips parted in a breathless smirk. Then, without warning he ripped the blanket off the both of you and yossed it aside like it was in the damn way. The room was dark, but not dark enough. The lights outside bled just enough silver through the curtains to illuminate your slick thighs, the glossy mess coating Yunho’s length every time he pulled out, and the way your soaked pussy clung to him like a vice, starting to squirt as he kept rutting, pounding into you, grunting, digging his fingers into your waist and slamming into you again, harder, deeper, and your body snapped.

You arched, crying out. And then you broke. A wave of liquid shot out of you, soaking Yunho’s lower stomach, the sheets beneath you, everything. “Fuck,” Yunho hissed, head tipping back as he felt you squirt fully around him, your body twitching violently with the force of it. He looked straight at Mingi, his voice smug, breathless, and absolutely filthy. “She always does that when I fuck her just right,” he groaned. “Makes the prettiest fucking mess.”

Mingi’s mouth parted, his eyes wide and dark, jaw slack as he watched your body convulse under Yunho’s, still trembling, overstimulated and leaking. You were panting, wrecked, barely able to process the aftermath as Yunho leaned over you again, licking sweat from your neck and whispering, “You should’ve seen his face, baby.” And then, with a slow, deep thrust that made you whimper. “He’s never gonna forget this.”

You were shaking, thighs trembling against Yunho’s broad shoulders, your chest heaving, lips parted in a dazed, fucked out expression. And still he didn’t stop. Yunho dragged his dick out slow, savoring the squelch of your soaked cunt clinging to him before slamming back in again deeper making you entire body jolt. “Y….Yunho…” you gasped, a sob laced with pleasure spilling from your throat. “I…. I can’t…”

“Yes, you can,” he growled, thrusting harder now, both hands gripping your waist as he rocked into you. “You’re gonna come again for me, baby. Right here. Just like that.” He shifted one hand lower, thumb slipping between your bodies to find your swollen clit, rubbing tight circles as he pounded into you relentlessly. And the pressure…. it was too much. You shook your head, back arching, voice cracking, “Baby….. it’s…. fuck too much”

“Oh, I know,” Yunho breathed, dragging his teeth over your collarbone. “That’s why it feels so fucking good.” You didn’t even hear Mingi anymore. Didn’t notice the way he was breathing harder, the way the sheets rustled with movement across the room as fucked his hand imagining he was buried inside you along with Yunho. But Yunho did. He lifted his head just enough to glance over his shoulder, eyes locking with Mingi’s and grinned. And then, softly… tauntingly, “You gonna come with her, Mingi?”

Mingi froze, just a beat, before his head tipped back, a low moan slipping out, finally, completely involuntary. The sound of him made you blink, dazed and to clench Yunho a little harder as he leaned in again, voice a low, dangerous hum at your ear. “He’s fucking his fist right now watching me fuck you. And I haven’t even really started yet.” Your eyes flew open, the reality hitting you like lightning as Yunho’s hand slid to your throat, not tight, just there. Possessive. Calming. Claiming. “Look at me,” he whispered. “You’re mine. He knows it. He can fucking watch.”

And then he slammed into you again and you cried out, sharp, loud, broken and Yunho groaned as you clenched around him, your orgasm crashing over you like a wave, body convulsing beneath him as slick poured out of you, your vision going white behind your eyes and Mingi’s moan hit the dark air right after. He couldn’t hold it back. His release ripped through him in silence and shame and awe, his chest heaving, hand still under the blanket, eyes wide and locked on you.

Yunho didn’t stop moving until your legs fell from his shoulders, until you were trembling and gasping and completely ruined. Only then did he slow, finally leaning down, pressing kisses along your jaw, his voice soft now, intimate. “You’re perfect.” Then, louder. For Mingi. “But she’s not done yet.”

Mingi knew he should’ve looked away. The second he opened his eyes and realized what was happening, what Yunho was doing to you just a few feet away, he should’ve rolled over, closed his eyes, pretended to still be asleep. But he didn’t. He couldn’t. He laid there in the dark, heart hammering against his ribs, trying to stay still, to stay silent, as he watched you unravel beneath Yunho, sheets pushed aside, shirt bunched at your ribs, legs shaking, gasping and moaning into his hand like it was the only thing keeping you from screaming.

Mingi’s hand had drifted down before he even registered it, sliding beneath his waistband, fingers curling around himself. Yunho was fucking you slow, deep, possessive. Every stroke was like a threat and a promise, and when your body arched and you squirted, Jesus Christ, Mingi nearly came right then. He’d never seen anything so raw. So fucking real. Then Yunho looked at him. Locked eyes across the room. And grinned. Like he knew Mingi would never forget this. Now here Yunho was like the devil incarnate saying you weren’t done yet.

Mingi blinked. Heart stuttering as Yunho turned his head and looked right at him, still inside you, his voice low, cocky, and utterly in control. “Come on, princess,” he murmured. “You already came once. You might as well come help me wreck her.” Your head turned weakly toward Mingi, eyes hazy, lips swollen and parted. You were still panting, your body a trembling mess, but you didn’t say no. You didn’t say anything. And that silence made Mingi’s pulse slam into overdrive.

“You want him, don’t you?” Yunho whispered, tilting your face toward his. “You’ve thought about it. I know you have.” You didn’t answer with words but your thighs clenched involuntarily around Yunho’s waist and he smirked. “That’s what I thought.” He looked at Mingi again. “Take your shirt off.”

Mingi hesitated, his whole body frozen between desire and disbelief. But then he saw the way you looked at him, tired, wrecked, but eyes flicking down his bare chest when he sat up, pupils blown wide with curiosity. With want. So he stood and walked toward the bed slowly and Yunho leaned down, kissed your throat, then looked up at Mingi with a grin that wasn’t just invitation, it was challenge. “You’ve seen what I can do to her,” he murmured. “Now show me what you want to do.”

Yunho's challenge hung in the air, his voice low and commanding as he kept his dick buried deep inside you, the slow grind of his hips never faltering. Mingi hesitated at first, his face flushed deep red, eyes darting between his best friend’s possessive stare and the way your body trembled beneath him. But the tension built thickly in the dim hotel room, the city lights casting faint shadows across all of you. And slowly, Mingi shifted, his own dick still hard and leaking from the earlier release as he dropped to his knees beside your bed, drawn in despite the disbelief etched on his features, until he was right there beside you both.

Yunho's hand stayed firm around your throat, not squeezing too tight but holding you in place with that dominant grip, while his thrusts remained deliberate and unhurried. He pulled back almost all the way before sinking in again, stretching you open inch by inch, making sure you felt every ridge of him. "That's it, Mingi," Yunho murmured, his tone laced with taunt. "Come taste her. She's dripping all over my dick, and I know you want it."

Mingi swallowed hard, his breath ragged, but he moved, positioning his face near where your bodies joined. His tongue flicked out tentatively at first, lapping at your swollen clit with wet, broad strokes that sent sparks shooting through your overstimulated nerves. The sensation layered on top of Yunho's steady fucking, his dick sliding in and out right against Mingi's mouth, and Mingi groaned into you, the vibration rumbling through you. He didn't stop there, his tongue working eagerly now, circling your clit before dragging lower to swipe along the base of Yunho's dick as it plunged into you. The dual sensation was overwhelming, hot, slick pressure on your clit combined with the way Mingi's lips brushed Yunho's dick on every thrust.

Yunho grunted in approval, his hips picking up just a fraction, still controlled but deeper, filling you completely each time as Mingi's free hand wrapped around his own dick again, stroking it with desperate pumps, his fingers slick with his previous cum as he fucked his fist in time with the rhythm. He was overstimulated already, his body twitching from the intensity, yet he couldn't pull away, his tongue lapping messily at both of you, tasting your arousal mixed with the faint salt of Yunho's skin.

Your moans grew louder despite the hand on your throat, muffled only partially as Yunho's fingers tightened just enough to remind you that just because his best friend had joined, you were still his. Pleasure built in waves, your pussy clenching around Yunho's while Mingi's tongue flicked relentlessly over your clit, sucking gently now and then before returning to lap at the spot where Yunho entered you.

Mingi whimpered into you, his hand moving faster on himself, hips bucking into his own grip as overstimulation hit him hard, his dick throbbing, yet he kept going, chasing another release as Yunho watched it all with a dark grin, his gaze locked on Mingi even as he drove into you, the pace dragging out every sensation until your body quivered on the edge again. The minutes stretched on like that, Yunho's thrusts unyielding, each one pushing you higher while Mingi's tongue worked you over, alternating between your clit and the length of Yunho sliding past his lips.

Sweat beaded on Mingi's forehead, his strokes on his own dick growing erratic from the overload, but he didn't stop, his mouth open and hungry against you both. You felt the coil tightening in your core, your walls fluttering around Yunho as another orgasm built, slow and inevitable from the prolonged attention until finally, Yunho's control snapped just enough. His hand gripped Mingi's hair roughly, fingers tangling in the strands to hold him in place as his hips snapped forward harder. "Fuck, that's it," he growled, his dick pulsing inside you as he came, flooding you deep with hot spurts that filled you full.

His throat grip stayed possessive, anchoring you as his release triggered yours, your body convulsed, pussy squeezing him tight while you came hard around him, juices mixing with his own and coating Mingi's tongue who followed right after, his own orgasm hitting with a choked moan, his hand jerking his dick as he spilled again onto the side of the bed, overstimulated and trembling from the shared intensity. Yunho didn't let go immediately, keeping Mingi's face pressed close as the aftershocks rolled through all three of you, the room filling with heavy breaths and ragged gasps.

Then after the silence, a sudden burst of laughter left you, coming out breathless and full of amusement. “What?” Yunho pulled out of you, sitting back on his knees as Mingi moved back on the floor. “Wooyoung and Jongho are right next door.” You snorted because in the end, you were loud, all of you were. “Oh…” Yunho grinned and looked down at Mingi who shook his head, wiping at his mouth with the back of his hand.

“I hate both of you.”

He absolutely didn’t. And he absolutely was thinking about doing it all over again.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The bar has been refurbished since the last time you came here.

The overall layout is still generally the same; during your search for your friends, you’ve looked in the ladies’ room - still to the left of the bar, cramped, only two stalls, line way too long, though it isn’t the hospital powder pink it once was - and in the smoking area, thus far. The latter looks pretty much the same, although you admit they can’t really change that much; beneath your denim jacket, you’re still only wearing a minidress and boots and it’s fucking cold. 

Escaping back inside seems the best idea. Realistically, if they’re not there or in the restroom or here, in the main room with the bar, you may as well just get over it. There’s no signal in this place for you to text them either - there never has been - and you don’t want to leave this early. You can still have a good night. You undoubtedly know some of the people here anyway - hell, maybe you’ll find a man. 

It’s the overall vibe that’s changed more than anything else; you think they must be going for some sort of seventies concept now, while before it was largely unthemed. It seems to bring more customers like this - the place is packed full on a tacky illuminated dancefloor, no one dressed the part, though beneath the flashing lights and disco ball you can't really tell. It’s flashy, somewhat exciting; it’s why you decided to wear your vintage denim jacket, even if no one else was going to play along.

The drink you’ve been nursing is still over half full, so you bypass the bar and go straight to the dancefloor. The music doesn’t match the vibe either, but you’re not bothered, swaying in your spot to the random dance song they have playing and taking a generous gulp of the liquid to ease yourself in.

Okay, it definitely feels like a better time now. Perhaps the rebrand has had some effect. You move your hips, jacket falling down your bare shoulders before catching on the strap of your bag. 

Lost in your own world, you almost miss it as you turn around to look amongst the crowd; but no, clear as day, tall and attractive enough to make your heart stop - two men, one in baggy clothes and an obnoxious fur coat and one in tighter, flared jeans, long sleeve tight across a toned, broad chest, sipping on their drinks, staring at you like a pint of water in the middle of a desert. 

You see them after they see you. You’re not sure how long they’ve been looking at you, these two men, but god they’re fixated and it makes you stop too. They can’t look away, both of their gazes trailing down your body as you move and sway with your drink in your hand, and your breath catches in your throat - not that you’re complaining, though. They’re handsome, though you assume they came together and will be leaving together too, judging by the way they’re glued to each other’s sides. 

The taller one seems to have more of a grip on the situation than the other man, but they’re both intimidating, domineering. He whispers something in the other man’s ear, long fingers brushing at his neck. Their eyes still don't leave you though, and the shorter’s plump lips break into a grin, leering, too satisfied for someone who hasn’t even spoken to you - let alone touched you. He must’ve said something he likes. 

You can’t help yourself. You smile back, and he flicks a few dark blue strands out of his forehead, taking a sip of the liquid he’s got in his glass before he slams it down on the table decisively. He says something else to the other man, something you can’t even try to lip read because he turns his back to you. He gives him a cheeky smile, almost like he’s doing something wrong, and begins to push through the crowd on the dancefloor. You stand dead still.

You wonder about the situation between them. Clearly, they’re more than friends, and it seems like the taller is the one in control, but - what’s this? The shorter man is approaching you, his too-large brown fur coat seeming ridiculous in the heat of the bar, but you see as he gets closer that he’s got nothing but a waistcoat and baggy trousers underneath. He shoots a few amused looks back at the other man, who looks less than pleased at his misbehaving, but it doesn’t sway him - once he’s at you, he pulls you into him so your back is pressed against his front and whispers in your ear just loud enough for you to hear him.

“Wanna dance?”

Do you? Fuck yeah, you do - and with his partner too, if he’s up for grabs. For now though, you suppose one will have to do, because as you smile flirtatiously in response and the DJ changes the music to something else - something sultry, heavy, with a solid beat - the man starts to grind his hips so sensually you forget everything else. He’s good at this, angling you with a firm palm on the plush of your tummy, fingers wrapping in the fabric of your minidress so that your hips grind back against him. 

The fur of his coat is expensive, you can tell just by feeling it when your hands go back to grip on his arms, and his teeth bite into his bottom lip when you grab at him.He lets you balance yourself with your hold, his own hand moving up to your chest, both of you moving in a sinuous movement that has you realising how good he’d be in bed if he dances like this. 

Just before you forget, ring-clad knuckles come to the bottom of your chin and angle your head towards where you were previously looking. He’s still there, the other man, and this time he looks positively engrossed, arms folding over his chest - his eyes don’t leave the two of you, a smirk playing at his lips like he can’t quite believe it. It’s as if you’re performing for him, the two of you, nowhere near in control of the situation; you wonder what it is, this situation, and if it’ll end in you getting fucked by both of them.

The man next to you chuckles before fully humping into the curve of your ass, unashamed; the line of his cock presses against you, half hard, fat and steadily growing like you’re doing a lot more than just grinding on each other in a packed bar. You gasp, muffled by the music but he seems to have heard it despite the noise - he nudges his nose into your neck, impatient.

“We came together, me and him,” he says, tone casual though he has to shout a little to be heard. The words say everything despite being so few, but you don’t falter, hoping that you’re moving against him in a way that’s still inconspicuous enough to be passed off as a dance. “That okay?”

You shrug as casually as you can, skin starting to feel a little heated. This is the jackpot, you think. “I don’t mind taking two.”

“I bet you fuckin’ don’t.” He huffs out a laugh. “Don’t mind putting on a show either, do you? I’m Mingi, by the way.”

“Mm, hi Mingi,” you giggle, and Mingi shakes his head, disbelieving, a smile pulling at his lips. You can’t believe it either, quite frankly, how well the night’s turned out, and your head lolls back against his broad shoulder as you move, fur coat soft under your head, a grounding presence. The other man is still looking, and you find yourself drawn to his eyes, holding eye contact with him as you manage your next question, “what’s your boyfriend’s name?”

A hum, and then plump lips press a gentle kiss to your jaw. A shiver wracks through you, straight down your spine, and he does it again a few times just to watch the effect it has on you. “Yunho,” he breathes, “his name is Yunho. Shake this ass on me, let him see it.”

“He likes to watch, huh?” You say, as if you have any problem with it whatsoever. The song changes, a dance track with an even dirtier beat now and you do as he says - you’re shaking your hips to the rhythm before you can feel embarrassed about it, everyone around you too occupied with their own dancing or flirting. 

“That’s a good fuckin’ girl,” he hums, hand moving from your front to your hips, fingers ghosting over the curve of your asscheeks where your hips get plusher and move into your thighs. Hands dig into flesh, and he groans, rutting against you once, twice, enough to have you squirming, starting to worry someone might notice. “Fuck, look at that. Shit, should we just take you back now? I wanna tear this ass apart.”

You can’t help it - you laugh again, hand coming to Mingi’s jaw to pull him forwards, his cheek pressed against yours. Yunho rolls his neck, tongue poking over his bottom lip before he’s placing his drink down and you think he’s made the decision for all three of you. 

 “And him?” You murmur.

Mingi’s nose brushes against your cheek. “He’ll tear you apart too. Might even be nastier than me.”

“I find that hard to believe.” His hips hit you just right, slow, to the beat, and you breathe heavily when he spins you around to face him like he’s going to kiss you. He’s pretty up close, sharp nose and dark blue hair and plump lips that form a predatory smile. “Fuck, Mingi, take me home.”

“Eager girl.” His head drops down, kissing you chastely square on the lips once, then twice. His lips are buttery soft and you chase them when he pulls away. He doesn’t care that you’re in public, so neither do you - you press yourself against him harder, arms wrapping around his shoulders. “We need to talk to Yunho.”

“No need.” Another voice, and another set of big, big hands that wrap around your waist and pull you back into him. You’re trapped between them now, because despite being unfamiliar with them you know who’s just gripped you and gotten involved. “She’s right, we should take her home. You’re an aching little thing, hm?”

Fingers dip up under the hem of your minidress where it hangs around your thighs, nails scratching against your skin, teasing. You’re not sure who it is this time, but the touch is so close to your panties that you whimper, the sound so broken that Yunho’s head dips into the other crook of your neck with a deep sigh, mirroring where Mingi continues to bite at you the other side. “P-please, I can’t take this anymore, I want you both, can we-”

“Fine,” Yunho breathes, exasperated, and a firm, guiding grip comes to rest on the back of your neck. “Let’s get you home, tiny.”

“On your knees.” A firm hand pushes on your shoulder, forcing you down before you can decide to obey; you drop to your knees in your pretty dress, your legs bare, their carpet scratching against your skin. Like this, they’re looming over you in a different way than before, and all you can see is long, long legs in baggy jeans and firm torsos heaving - they’re waiting, perceiving you, seeing if you’ll do anything else. Yunho’s the first to speak again, grin wide when he turns to his partner, “that’s it. She’s pretty like this, isn’t she? Quiet, so needy she’ll do anything, waiting for us to just say.”

“She’s beautiful,” Mingi says, fingers pulling your hair backwards to force you to look up at them properly. “Slutty, too.”

You whimper, squirming in his grip, though not enough to be told off for it. You wonder if they’re hard already, fat lengths trapped in the confines of their pants, but you don’t have long to think about it - Yunho’s long fingers start working at his belt, and before long the leather is pulled out from the prongs and his button is being pushed open. 

It exposes his black boxers, and you realise you’re not even looking at him anymore. Fixated on his crotch, you wait, mouth open and spit pooling at your bottom lip like a drooling dog. They both sound amused, but they don’t make you wait, Yunho pushing down his boxers and revealing his tan shaft. 

Thick, long and veiny, it springs against his stomach. It curves upwards, tip a darker shade and swollen, but not leaking just yet. The moan leaves your throat before you can help it. If Yunho’s is like this, you can’t imagine the other man - but fingers tighten in your hair and redirect you back before you can even turn to try and get a lot. 

“Mm, no,” Yunho murmurs, and you look back up at him. He looks pleased by how enthralled you are, a smile pulling at his lips, and his hand comes down to slap his shaft against your cheek once, twice. You shiver. “You can show her yours too, Mingi, really get the slut going. She wants two at once, after all, don’t you?”

“I do, I want both.” You nod dumbly, pathetically; Mingi’s resulting groan is delighted, low in his throat. His tongue licks at his teeth as he works at his own belt, and his baggy jeans drop with a rustling noise at his ankles, unashamed. Yunho has tucked his boxers underneath his balls but Mingi’s less reserved, shunning his boxers as quick as he can as Yunho starts slowly stroking half of his shaft inches away from your face.

Fuck.

Mingi’s big too, a little shorter but thicker again and his tip is leaking like a fucking faucet. If he’d left his boxers on a little longer you’d have seen the drops beading upon the fabric but he’s too impatient for that, already stroking his cock quicker than Yunho, moving hip to hip with the other man. 

“You want both?” He smacks his cock against your other cheek, laughing delightedly when you moan, nodding eagerly. “Open your mouth then, there’s a good whore.”

You blink, in a daze. “I- I can’t fit both-”

“Obviously,” Yunho scoffs. “Use your hand for the other. Are you stupid?”

Oh. Something must show on your face, a wordless reaction to his words because Yunho’s grin turns predatory then, and when he grips your hair now it’s harsher, firmer than his boyfriend had done. You scramble to say something to quell this harshness, stammering, “N-not stupid, I’ve just never…”

Yunho bursts out laughing. Your gut clenches and your pussy burns in your panties, so slick and needy that you try to rut down the floor, to no avail. “Never had two cocks at once? We all know that’s a fucking lie, baby. I think you need to stop talking.”

He’s forcing you down on his cock before you can retort.

You still try to splutter something out despite your lips being wrapped taut, barely fitting just half his length into your mouth though he tries to fuck past the resistance of your throat anyway. Your words die in your throat, replaced by a strangled whine; Mingi grabs your hand himself, impatient and wraps your fingers around his cock - putting you to use.

He’s wet from his precum already, soaked and sticky and veiny and it makes a slick noise when you start to move your fingers. It’s hard to concentrate on both but thankfully you don’t have to do much thinking; Yunho fucks himself into your mouth for you, skin salty with his own precum. Unable to do anything more than just be a ragdoll for them, you allow yourself to slump a little, mouth wrapped tight around one and hand around the other, hips just barely squirming where you’re sat. A noise leaves your throat when Yunho fucks into the resistance a few times, a deep groan leaving his own mouth.

“Tight fucking throat, hm? How tight is that cunt gonna be?”

Mingi groans, and his fingertips press at your cheeks, feeling the thickness of Yunho’s cock through your skin. He manages to move you over to him, and his shaft burns when it stretches your lips apart, thicker, wetter - you start to drool with tears biting at your eyes and he chuckles breathlessly at the sight of you.

“You like it mean, huh?” He doesn’t expect a response, voice gravelly as he starts to fuck your mouth. He’s sloppier than Yunho, a little more careless, and the strangled noise you make is embarrassing when he forces his cock all the way down. It hurts your throat but he presses your nose into the tuft of his pubes like he doesn’t really care, grinding his hips against your jaw, fingers pressing at your throat where he now bulges it instead.

When you manage to look up through a glassy gaze, you see them both together. Mingi captures Yunho’s lips with his own, one hand leaving you to cup the other man’s jaw, their tongues intertwining messily between spit-slick lips. They both groan, deep and from their chests like they’ve been waiting for this all night - your whine is louder though, nails scratching at their thighs because you’ve wanted to see it since you saw them together on the dancefloor. It forces saliva to bubble down your occupied lips, dripping over your chin and down to your throat, over Mingi’s rings.

If they’re amused by your reaction, they don’t separate for long enough to show it. Yunho tugs you to him again without even glancing your way, long fingers in your hair, and this time you’re able to get a momentum. Your mouth sinks down on him before he has time to force you there, your other hand coming to grasp Mingi’s slippery length, the saliva giving more than enough lubricant when you start to pump. 

Like this - not being yanked around - you’re able to focus, and you can’t help the noises that spill from your chest; your pussy is wet, drooling and dumb already, and they continue to make out above your head like it’s nothing that should affect you. Your gut burns, wrenching with need and want and something embarrassing because all you’ve done is suck their cocks and you’re this desperate, but it doesn’t stop you trying to get their attention.

Tongue digging into the underside of Yunho’s tip, you pool spit into your mouth and it bubbles over your lips messily, letting you sink back down on him with a wetter, tighter suction. He’s still too big to take too much comfortably but you force your mouth down, jaw be damned, hand occupied with another cock that you think you’re doing a decent rhythm with, and on the upwards stroke you press your tongue into his piss slit and suck hard.

It works. You hear the sharp inhale of breath, and he pulls away sharply from Mingi, lips parting in a louder noise just as the blue haired man moves to messily press open-mouthed kisses against his neck. He doesn’t stop him, one hand going to his head to hold him there.

“Dirty girl, knew you had it in you,” he murmurs, before his jaw goes slack in a groan, head rolling back where Mingi kisses him. Your hand has paused on the other man but if he’s annoyed, he doesn’t show it, shaft bobbing uselessly as he bites at the curvature of Yunho’s neck with his eyes on you, where you’re kneeling below them. “Bet she’s all gooey down there from sucking cock, too. Little hole clenching around nothing, slicking up her thighs, clit all swollen and hard.”

Mingi grunts, a primal noise. “Can’t wait to look. Taste it, too. I know it’s fuckin’ pretty, all soaked and tight and- ah, fuck this, I gotta-”

Two hands underneath your armpits, and you’re thrown chest first onto the comfortable bed by a very strong grip. You have enough space left in your brain for the moment to present yourself, pushing up onto your knees and letting your front lay flat to curve your spine - Mingi groans in appreciation, wasting no time before he’s pulling your dress up to your waist and your panties down to your knees. 

The cold air hits your cunt and you moan, trying to turn your head to the side to have a look at what he’s about to do to you before someone - you’re unsure who - pins it right back down, flat, suffocating. 

“Let me have a look,” Mingi coos, and two thumbs come to pull your sticky folds apart. You’re soaked, you can feel it - it’s smeared up to your asshole from how you’ve pooled in your panties, and though you hope he hasn’t noticed it, hasn’t gotten any ideas, a deeper part of you hopes he ignores your pussy and eats that hole instead. “She’s so fuckin’ messy. Fat little cunt too. When did you start leaking like a virgin, baby? When you were on your knees in front of our cocks, us stood above you like we fuckin’ own you?”

You can’t reply - again, you don’t think he wants you to. Is he even talking to you, or is he talking to her?

It was Yunho that pushed you down, you realise, because it’s the same second pair of hands that slide the straps of your dress down over your shoulders. Nudging the fabric down so that it all bunches at your waist, he scratches his fingernails over your spine on the way down, leaving you bare but feeling quite like something animalistic. 

“Mm, actually…” A nose nudges at your core and then a tongue, fat and steady, is sliding through your folds and humming when he tastes your arousal, smacking his lips messily like he’s eating a good meal. “You’ve been wet even longer, haven’t you? Since we danced in the bar. Oh, that’s something. How pent up are you, sweetheart?”

You whine. There’s no way he could know that, not really, and you know he’s just teasing you but he’s right - you were.

He continues, wet tongue moving to lick circles over your clit as he slurs. “Can’t blame you, ‘m desperate for this too.”

“Stop talking and eat.” Yunho sounds amused. “Poor thing looks like she’s gonna die if she doesn’t get something.”

At least it makes Mingi move, his lips smacking wet over your pussy before his tongue slides through the plush of your folds. The bridge of his nose is sharp when it bumps into your perineum, his tongue tracing your hole before it pushes inside and he savours your arousal from the inside with a deep, gravelly moan, something that ricochets through you and makes you finally beg.

“Yuyu,” You sound broken, too needy to think, and you feel it too - your head spins and you know you haven’t done well verbalising it but Yunho somehow knows what you need, sliding two long fingers past your lips for you to suck on. It doesn’t help, Mingi’s plush lips kissing down to your clit and making a home there, tongue darting underneath the hood to rub over you so intimately that you would never be able to stop the way you buck. Your hips fuck back onto his face but his strong forearm hooks around your tummy to keep you steady, your eyebrows furrowing in a subdued keen.

Yunho smiles, fucking his fingers into your mouth, watching the way you suck earnestly like it’s a cock - can you even tell the difference right now? It’s like you can see the wonder on his face before he speaks, cock half hard against his thigh, “Do you need something inside, honey?”

Your resulting noise is loud, deep from your chest - you’d forgotten that was an option with the way his boyfriend’s lips are working over you, but before you can beg properly the man grunts, lips leaving you for a moment.

“I’m gettin’ her ready for you, babe. She can wait.”

“Mm.” Yunho raises an eyebrow, confused, although his fingers leave your lips and brush over the base of his tummy almost instantly. “You don’t wanna go first? You were desperate a second ago-”

“Are you kidding me?” Mingi grins, all teeth that nip into your thigh as an afterthought, making you squeak. He ignores you, continuing like you can’t hear him, “a pussy like this is even better when it’s been nutted in already. I love me some sloppy seconds.”

Before you can raise any kind of objection to being talked about like that, right over you while he’s between your legs, Mingi’s tongue dives back between your folds. He licks up your arousal and drools onto your heat, pushing further up, where his hands spread your cheeks and expose the smaller hole, the one that makes your face flush and gut wrench in embarrassment. 

“Bet you’d let us fuck this too,” he grumbles, and you nod, squirming in your place, as much as you can with the way his boyfriend’s pushing you down. “How fucking filthy. You just met us and you’d already let us fuck your asshole open. God, you’re amazing, might be fuckin’ made for us.”

Something bubbles in your gut, something so needy that you can’t help the garbled wail you let out. It’s incoherent at first, but Yunho lets your head move just enough to verbalise what you need to, “Want you both, anything, please, please, give me cock-”

“Give me cock,” Yunho giggles, shaking his head in disbelief. “What a bimbo. Fine, I’ll give you cock, honey. Mingi, lemme move her.”

Mingi obeys instantly, pulling away from your slick cunt and thighs, letting you be manhandled again by the taller man onto your side. You know this one, deep in your lust-muddled brain, and you let one leg slide forward to display your core as he slides behind you, chest to your back. He’s fully naked now - you’re not sure when this happened - and the palm he smooths your hair down with grounds you a little, other hand moving secure on your tummy.

“Y’want it?” He murmurs, and you see Mingi moving next to you, naked, muscled, distracting - your mouth waters. His eyes move down your body, over your flushed cheeks, teary eyes and down to your nipples, the curve of your tummy and the swell of your thighs; his hand moves to his cock, and you see his gaze move down Yunho, too, before he finally grips the base and starts to move up the vast length. Yunho’s fingers tighten in your hair a little, bringing your attention back to him. “Don’t get distracted, tiny. Talk to me. Do you want it?”

He moves his cock to the mess between your legs, pushing through arousal to get to your folds and at the resistance of your hole. The weight of it makes you gasp wetly, but he doesn’t let you squirm away when you try, only pulling you back into it. 

“S-So big, Yunho, I want it, please.”

“There you go, good little slut,” He coos, satisfied, and pushes just the first inch in. Your hole clenches tight from the stretch, almost pushing him back out and he groans, using his grip on your thigh to pull you back onto it. “Let me in, baby.”

“C-Can’t help it, ah-“

Something shifts in him then, and the next thrust of his cock is stronger, meaner, something that makes your walls give way to more of him, accompanied by a sharp bite to your neck. It hurts a little but it feels so good; your eyes roll back in your head with a keen, and Mingi huffs out a breath.

“Oh, little bitch is so fuckin’ tight,” he moans, one palm coming to push your leg upwards, against your side, trying to open you up further. It doesn’t help - he’s just far too big, your pussy tightening in protest despite how bad you fucking want it. “Do I have to split your hole open to get inside? Funny, ‘cause it’s fucking drooling around me like it can’t get enough.”

One of his hands comes to rest on your breast, idle but firm, and his thumb swipes over your nipple just to make you gasp. You try to fuck yourself downwards but he really is too big, cockhead already hitting your cervix and it knocks the wind out of you. Mingi’s hand tightens on an upwards stroke of his shaft and he smiles, amused, eyes flicking between you and his boyfriend.

“Let him in, sweetheart. He’ll make it hurt.”

You try your best; squirming and whining in Yunho’s hold you manage to slack your gummy walls enough for him to push more of his cock inside but it makes you squeal, too much all of a sudden, and his fingers move from your chest to your clit. His nails dig into it and you gasp, writhing away before his grip pulls your back to his chest again. 

“What the fuck is this for if I can’t fuck it? Useless little cunt otherwise, hm? Maybe I should just pull out, leave you-”

“No, nonono, please, Yunho,” You babble, moving around enough that it forces more of his length in. This time he seems to push past something that allows him to sink in balls deep, and it’s so far inside, pressing at your cervix and you think you might cum already.

Yunho huffs, placated now that you’ve let him in, yanking you backwards by your ass, letting the plumpness of it rock him into a bounce. It works, and he starts to fuck you steady, slow at first, letting you get used to it - his knuckles graze at your nipple before he pinches meanly, a breathless, chuckle of pleasure leaving him at your jolt.

“Fu-uck, ‘s so- need more, more, please-”

“More?” He asks, like he didn’t know, and you nod dumbly. You’re shocked by Mingi responding, not Yunho; walking on his knees towards you, his fingers come to your clit and roll it between his fingertips. It’s too much all of a sudden, and Yunho starts to speed up, his long, ridged shaft cutting into your gummy walls. Mingi’s ministrations make your pussy easier, more slack, and Yunho’s able to fuck quicker, cock not prohibited by how tight you’re squeezing around him. “That’s it. There you go, Min, cocksleeve’s gushing like a little whore now.”

“Mm, can feel it,” The man in question murmurs, eyes fixated on you like you’re the best thing he’s ever seen. Your eyebrows knit in pleasure, lips parting in a squeal when his thumb rubs over your bud firmly, and this time you feel it, the slick, sticky gush of your pussy with every thrust. It leaks over Mingi’s fingers and further down, to your thighs, Yunho’s balls and his own lithe legs. 

You feel dumb with it all, and you’re not even halfway through taking one. 

“Feels nice like that, doesn’t it?” Yunho sounds unaffected, and you whimper, nodding, “I can tell. Dirty cunt gushing like that, I’d swear you came already.”

Mingi leans down on the bed, distracting you momentarily before there’s something wet pressing at your clit. It’s his tongue, you realise, and you can’t control the hand that goes to that dark blue hair - he moans at the feeling of your fingers tightening, tugging, and you force his mouth closer, wet lips mouthing over your pussy until he hits Yunho’s cock. 

“Shit, that’s so-” you gasp, hips bucking, “oh, I- fuck, I’ll cum, please-”

Mingi’s tongue moves over you again, licking over the intrusion of his boyfriend inside of you. It doesn’t stop his movement, his cock still pistoning in and out while you’re forced to take, take, take, and when the shorter man’s lips purse and suck on your bud you writhe away, pleasure all-consuming.

Your orgasm hits you hard, beginning in the base of your tummy and making your thighs shake. One hand holds Mingi steady, and the other moves to Yunho’s side, anchoring you through it, but your pussy clenches dumbly in a rhythm that makes the man inside grunt and bite your neck sharply. Your own noises are abused, loud and too incriminating, but neither men make a move to quiet you.

“Ride it out, c’mon,” Yunho says, voice hoarse, and you find it in your static body to fuck yourself on both men while your legs lock and your toes curl. “Good girl. There you go, that’s it.”

It helps, quelling the strong climax into something steadier, nicer, and Mingi’s tongue flicks over your clit just enough for you to come down from it. 

The kiss the older man gives you is controlled, a little awkward from the angle but it tells you everything you need to know. You’re safe, you’re looked after and it’s exactly what you need after an orgasm that strong - his nose bumps your cheek when he kisses you deeper, giving you a few pecks as he pulls away; it makes you want more, but he’s already moving.

You realise too late that Yunho still hasn’t finished, and he pushes you onto your front, leg still slightly raised from the way he had you. His hips hit your ass as he bottoms out again, and you gasp - it’s so deep, so much that you want him to cum soon, hope he’ll cum soon and fill you up, and you remember you have another one to take after this. The realisation makes your pussy clench as he fucks inside and he lets out a stuttered breath against your shoulder, bumpy nose nudging at your jaw.

“You’re okay,” He soothes you, and you nod, whimper soft. “I’m gonna cum soon, baby. Gonna make you take it, ‘kay? Then Mingi’s gonna fuck it back into you.”

“Y-yeah,” you nod, and when Yunho starts to thrust again, punishing, Mingi seals your lips with his and swallows your noises. He kisses messy, teeth nipping at your bottom lip and he lets you suck on his tongue when you need something in your mouth again, not minding at all that your hands scramble at his broad shoulders for purchase.

You feel Yunho pull backwards, hands on the small of your back to hold you down, and it’s the sight of you and his boyfriend kissing that does him in. He gasps, letting out a shaky breath as he presses his hips tight to the plush of your ass, cockhead fucked so deep that it makes you try to squirm away again; Mingi keeps you still, giving you dirty, open-mouthed kisses and licking over your teeth.

Between your legs, you feel thoroughly used - when Yunho pulls out, cock softening a little, your pussy gushes fresh cum and as if it’s his queue, Mingi’s already moving over.

Yunho slaps your ass as he moves away from you, “Atta girl. She’s ready for you, Min.”

Fingers prod at your swollen hole, messy, creamy rivulets slicking down to Mingi’s rings as he spreads it open and inspects. If you had anything left in you, you’d feel embarrassed at the way he’s looking at you so intimately but well, he’s already done it once and you’re still horny. You shift back on the bed and chase his touch when he moves away, although you don’t have long to be disappointed because the feeling of a blunt cockhead against you makes you push your hips up, front going slack again.

“Look at that. Dumb slut knows how to present for a cock,” Mingi chuckles, although there’s no real bite to his words - his breath is shaky as he shuffles towards you, and seconds later there’s inches of fat cock spearing you open because he can’t wait himself at this point.

“O-oh,” You stutter, head raising and knocking back. You see Yunho, in front of you now, face so close to yours but it’s comforting rather than threatening. “Fuck, it’s-”

“Ssh, just feel it,” Yunho murmurs, stroking your cheek with one, big hand, and your eyes roll back into your head when he starts to thrust. His movements are deep and slow at first, letting you feel all of it, every vein and ridge and you swear you feel him leaking inside, too, when he pushes deep and pulls you flush against him like he isn’t fucking your pussy open in front of his boyfriend.

Mingi whines, sharp, “Tiny little pussy, so small, fuck-” his fingers hook around your shoulders, pulling you back onto him, “how are you still so fucking tight?” Your own hands scramble in the sheets until your fingers hook into them for leverage, and you writhe, moaning so viscerally that Yunho pets your hair to calm you down. Mingi’s thicker than him so despite taking the older man first, the stretch of your hole to accommodate him has your eyes watering, his hips stuttering into the creamy mess of a hole that his boyfriend left. “Can I- fuck, I can’t, I can’t, can’t play anymore-“

“Mingi,” Yunho warns, but it’s softened by the grin curling his lips, fond.

“Can’t, fuck, baby, I love your pussy,” Mingi babbles, and his hands move to your asscheeks, spreading them further, watching where his cock disappears into you. It’s slick when he starts to move, a creamy ring around the base of his cock, wet plaps echoing around the bedroom when his balls begin to hit your clit steadily. “Love- love it, love it everytime- I love you.”

Something dawns on you. You’re not playing anymore, not really, not the elaborate scene Yunho came up with late at night before you headed out to the bar you three met at - and your back bows towards the bed, curling away from your boyfriends, 

“Mmgh- I love you too,” You whimper, scrambling on the sheets for your third, your other boy. Fingers intertwine with yours immediately and he kisses your hairline, your nose, your lips; you cry out, head lolling against his. “Yunho- Yuyu, Yuyu, love you-“

“I love both of you, although you’re both fucking pathetic,” Yunho laughs, smoothing your hair. “Can’t even roleplay properly. Both of you cry like virgins as soon as I let him get inside of you.”

Mingi’s head drops to your shoulder, his weight pinning you down when he collapses atop of you. You’re separated from Yunho but you don’t mind at all when he starts to drill you properly - this is his favourite position, after all, it didn’t matter if it was you or Yunho underneath him. 

His hips don’t stop moving, pistoning into your cunt where you’re flat on the bed, his lips parting in a deep groan, “Pussy’s too good to think. Sorry, Yunho, p-promise it was hot.”

He’s not sorry at all, you all know that. Yunho scoffs. “I know it was. You two acting like sluts on that fuckin’ dancefloor, just like you were all those years ago. Hard, leaking, wet in your pants looking at me. I could see how horny you were.”

“Mmhm,” Mingi nods, delirious. You’re not able to respond, chest clenching in pathetic wails every time he pushes deep, fucking the noises out of you, and his hand moves to your back, soothing over your spine until he slaps your ass hard just for the sake of it. “G-Good little toy, that’s right, don’t have to speak, just take it. Good girl.”

He’s babbling again, nonsensical, praises and degradation into one - he’s always the same, and it always makes you gush easy for him. Yunho slides your hair out of your face, exposing flushed cheeks and spit slick lips, your eyes crossed with pleasure. The sight of you makes them both groan, and the older man plants a gentle slap on your cheek, gripping your jaw when you gasp.

“Fucked dumb,” He muses. “How pretty. Why don’t you cry a little for him, hm? You know he loves that.”

“It’s so much,” you manage, and he nods, cooing at you. It’s that which finally breaks you, and your chest bubbles with a sob, ripped harshly from you. “‘S so much, I can’t- can’t take it, daddy, please!”

They laugh at you again, you hear them, though Mingi’s is a lot more in awe than the other man’s. 

“Who’s your daddy, baby?” Yunho’s asking you, and it’s something he asks you often but it feels like you’re trying to move across clouds to respond to him. Everything’s so soft, comforting but your pussy continues to get rammed, overwhelmed, and you squeal, legs knocking together when you feel his thrusts start to get harsher but staggered. 

“B-both of you.” You slur. “Both- daddy, fill me up too-”

It ignites something in Mingi - he pulls out, gripping himself at the creamy base and flipping you over by your waist again. You’re on your back now, able to see them both, your boys; Yunho has that cheeky glint in his eyes that you love, looming over you with a half-hard cock and tousled, boyish hair - if you didn’t know him, you would trust him. 

Mingi distracts you, crowding into your space with furrowed eyebrows, thick thighs knocking your legs apart again before he sinks back inside. Yunho laughs at his impatience, hand smoothing over the younger man’s back as he starts to fuck you again and you know he’s really gonna cum now, moving so fast and hard that you both get knocked up the mattress a little.

You keen, “Fucking- oh, oh, that’s-“

“Language,” Yunho’s hand moves and pinches your thigh, and you wince, legs locking around Mingi. He pins you back down and then moves his focus to your clit, rolling it between his fingers; it’s so wet that it feels too good too quickly. “Gonna cum, aren’t you, baby?”

Your eyes roll back into your head when his fingers move over you instead, firmer, rubbing circles that make you heave, trying to catch your breath. Unable to answer him again, he hums, displeased.

That’s right, you almost forgot. He lets you get away with some things earlier but you don’t act like that around him, not really, only when you’re pretending like you don’t know them. Now, you know them, and there are rules - that also means you beg to cum, and you thank whatever higher powers there be because you remember before you fall off the edge.

“Please,” You struggle, nails scratching at both of them again, their arms this time, “please, please let me cum. Daddy, daddy, please-“

Mingi growls, fixated, “I’m gonna fuckin’ cum, you better cum with me, tiny.”

“There you go, honey. Your daddy said you can,” Yunho says, almost too sweet for you to believe but no, they did say that, and you’re squealing from it before they can take it back. 

You gush again, fluttering and writhing where you lay and halfway through it, Mingi nudges the dark haired man’s head to press his cheek against yours at an angle and kisses you both. 

Barely knowing what to do in your haze, they hold you still, tongues both messily sliding over yours, over each other - the man inside of you whimpers, thrusting harshly one last time, gasping against your mouths before he fills you with a fresh wave of cum. His cock throbs with it, pumping into you and when he can’t take it anymore he collapses, head on your chest, full weight a little overwhelming. 

Yunho kisses you a few times, fingertips moving to rub soft circles into your shoulders, your upper arms, before moving across your boyfriend’s scalp, massaging him too. He moans gratefully, exhausted, and you feel the same - your limbs are stiff and you groan when Mingi finally rolls off, slumping next to you in the wet sheets.

“I’ll just be cleaning you up, honey.” Yunho’s voice is gentler, and you hum, a smile creeping on your face - there he is, always in control. Mingi mumbles something that you don’t quite catch, arm hooking around your tummy, but your boyfriend hears him, chuckling, “That was referring to you, too.”

You want to laugh. “Don’t tell me he was trying to move.”

Yunho shifts closer, wet towel suddenly soft against your skin, and when you finally open your eyes he’s there, still naked, cock soft against his thigh and you wonder if he came again, sometime during it all. “Like I said, both of you fuck like virgins. Dead afterwards. Perished, even.”

You can’t argue. You’re not planning on moving any time soon; although the sheets are ruined, you’re exhausted after all that. The boys’ roleplay ideas are always crazy but well, there’s some that get a bit out of hand, like recreating the night you all met.

For the second time, Mingi grumbles nonsensically next to you. Yunho kisses the mole on the younger man’s cheek before kissing your hairline again. 

“Speaking of perished,” He murmurs, eyes shifting down to you playfully, putting on a dramatic voice, “I still think the next scene should be me, as Spider-Man, saving you and Min from possible perish-“

“Enough,” You grumble, kicking him softly with your foot. “Go to sleep.”

His laugh is so loud it makes Mingi kick him too, half-asleep, but then he really does settle, towel discarded on the floor. As if he was waiting for his presence to drop off properly, the younger man squirms closer on the mattress and reaches over you to tug Yunho in, pulling you into a pile, legs intertwined and a little sticky. It’s soothing though, naked and cuddling with your men, and Mingi starts to snore almost instantly.

The man plastered to your back sighs, though you know he’s not really bothered. “Sleep? With that?”

You huff, “Then just talk to me, duh.”

“Duh. You can actually just watch me play video games, if you want. Remember, my new monitor came yesterday, it’s curved and sexy and it’ll show you everything in-“

The TV is blaring when he wakes up. It’s loud, obnoxiously so, hurting his head a little; the familiar rattle of the local news channel’s morning jingle and the laughter of the presenters.

He’s sure he remembers turning it off last night; a couple beers in, the tail end of an action movie he’s seen a hundred times droning on. He turned it off a little after it ended and trudged down the hall to bed, he’s certain; he remembers stumbling over the wires a little when he went to turn it off at the wall, slightly disoriented by the late night and the alcohol. You were asleep then, quiet and content on his bedroom floor.

You must have turned it back on after he went to bed; you have a habit of wandering around the apartment at night, fiddling with buttons and flicking switches until you get bored or tired and fall asleep where you’re stood. He doesn't love it, but the apartment is secure and you know not to do it in the bedroom when he’s sleeping, so it’s not a huge problem.

You certainly have more destructive habits than that, anyway.

He finds you under the table, when he finally gets up and trudges through to the kitchen; you’re crouching, partially concealed by the tablecloth, toes curled under your feet against the tiled floor.

He doesn’t know what you’re doing. He rarely does. But as long as you’re safe, and obeying him, that’s what matters.

“Get out from there,” he says. The words come out grumbled, his voice still rough, thick with sleep.

You crawl out slowly, begrudgingly, then stand up. He can tell you’re not happy about it, but you’re obeying nonetheless, and that’s enough for him.

Your shirt—his, actually—hangs loose around your body, a little grime seeping into the fabric.

Or it looks like grime, at least. When he looks a little closer he realises it’s actually blood.

He raises an accusing eyebrow, staring you down, and you shrink into yourself like you’ve been caught in the act. Which you have, pretty much.

“Baby,” he sighs. He reaches to grab a dirtied section of the shirt, holding it up to your eyeline where it’s unavoidable. “What did we talk about yesterday?”

“Change,” you answer quietly. “We have to change clothes when they’re dirty.”

He nods, humming. “That’s right. If you’re going to go around wearing shirts with blood on them then you’ll have to stop wearing clothes when you eat. Is that what you want?”

“No, Yu.”

“Arms up.”

You lift your arms obediently, staying still and silent as he slides the shirt up over your head and puts it down on the table. You’re bare now, only panties to protect your modesty, but that’s not something that really registers to either of you. Not with the states you’ve seen each other in—far, far worse than a little nudity.

“Sit down,” he says. “I’ll bring you breakfast.”

He turns off the TV first; it’s too loud this early in the morning, not to mention a waste of money to keep it running like that.

While he’s there, he slides his hand behind the TV stand and retrieves the key he keeps hidden underneath.

You watch him silently. You know what he’s doing—and you know how to be patient, too.

You’ll get what you need; you always do. Yunho has never once allowed you to go without.

The pantry is hidden behind a bookshelf you’ve never cared to browse—you have little use for books anyway. You watch as Yunho hauls it out of the way then slots the key into the lock.

It opens with a quiet click that makes your mouth water instinctively. You hear the fridge open then close, then a drawer, then he emerges again with a white tupperware in his hands.

Fuck. You can already smell it. The minute or so it takes for him to lock up and put everything back into place nearly has you jumping out of your seat.

“We’re running a little low,” Yunho tells you as he puts the box down on the table. “I’ll go out tonight. Stock up a little.”

The lid cracks open. The smell is the first thing to hit—it’s distinct, pungent, unmistakable once you know what it is. It still makes him a little queasy even now. You’re all but heart-eyed like he’s just offered you a gourmet dinner.

“Eat up,” he says. “Before it goes bad.”

You eat with your hands—despite his best efforts, you were never able to get the hang of cutlery, and you barely understood the logic of using it no matter how many times he explained it to you. It was just one of those times where he had to pick his battles, he’d realised; you eat well anyway, never leaving a drop, and that’s what matters.

“How is it?” He asks.

“Good,” you answer. “What is it?”

“Thigh.”

You nod, approving, and he bites back a laugh. “Good girl,” he murmurs, mostly to himself. You’re far too engrossed to hear it; if you do, you don’t reply.

You’re a woman of few words—that’s something he understood about you very early on. He doubts you used them at all before meeting him; when would you have? You were all alone out there, wherever you were; in the very few stories you have told him of your early life, you never once mentioned another person.

He supposes it makes sense; tracks with the complete waste of time it had been trying to find any record of you at all.

To the rest of the world, it seems, you just… don’t exist.

He intends to keep it that way.

“Done,” you announce. You push the box back to him, then push each of your fingers into your mouth, one by one, until they’re licked clean. There’s still some blood around your mouth and trailing down your chin; he sighs, lamenting silently to himself, knowing what he’s going to have to do.

“You’re dirty, sweetheart,” he says quietly. “You’re going to need a wash.”

Your head snaps up, eyes suddenly sharp, your lips set in a firm line. “No,” you growl. “No wash, Yunho.”

He tries to keep his voice level, but the defiance in your voice, in your eyes, has his hand twitching by his side. “You have to, baby, you’re filthy. I don’t like filthy girls, do I?”

It’s true—if it weren’t such an issue it’d almost be funny that someone like him, used to keeping things clean and tidy and very much set in his ways, would be so irrevocably bonded with someone who scarcely even understands why it’s necessary to wash in the first place.

He doesn’t blame you, of course; with the life you’ve had he knows he can’t expect any different. But it does cause problems sometimes.

“Baby,” he repeats. “Do I like filthy girls?”

You shake your head, deflating a little. One way he’s found to make you understand why it’s necessary to do or not do certain things is to frame them around him—Yunho doesn’t like that. Yunho likes this. You have to do it this way, because it makes Yunho happy.

Whatever works, he supposes, and he can’t deny he enjoys the way you’re almost religiously in need of his praise and approval. It’s a level of power he doesn’t quite know what to do with; he certainly wants to maintain it, though.

Other people would just abuse it, anyway.

“Let’s go wash up,” he says. “Then you’ll be nice and clean and I’ll be happy.”

“And reward?” You ask, hope evident in your voice.

He bites back a grin that’s a little more predatory than he can admit of himself. “Yeah, love,” he says. “Then reward.”

It’s as much as a reward for him—more, probably, if you were to ask anyone but you. But you’re not going to ask anyone else, so it doesn’t really matter.

He sets the bath running—it’s easier than trying to put you in the shower, he’s found—at the temperature you seem to hate the least. Not too warm, but not too cold. He doesn’t set it cold unless you’re being really, really bad. You stand hovering behind him while he prepares it; when he’s awake you tend to follow him around the house, not really certain what else to do with yourself. Even facing away from you, he feels the way you tense up when he sets the water running; you relax a little when you see him set it warm, though not entirely, and he bites down a laugh.

“Relax, bunny,” he murmurs. “You’ve been good. S’gonna be just how you like it.”

“Don’t like any of it,” you grumble. He rolls his eyes.

“Okay,” he says, turning off the taps. “In we get. Let’s get you nice and clean, wash this filth off you.”

You don’t fight him when he lifts you up and puts you into the tub; you only do it very occasionally these days, when you’re particularly agitated or bratty, but for the most part he’s weeded that particular instinct out of you. You know, now, not to fight Yunho; not while he’s the one who protects you from the world. Especially not while he can hit that hard.

You stay still, docile, silent as he cleans you up. He rewards you with your favourite fluffy towel, warmed on the radiator, wrapped around you once he dries you off. “All done,” he says. “I’ll get you a clean shirt.”

He slips another old, loose shirt over your head; it falls to your mid-thigh, and the fabric is soft and worn, the colour starting to fade. Then he puts you on your knees by the foot of the bed; grips your jaw between his fingers and yanks it upwards to meet his eyes. “I’m gonna give you your reward,” he says. “Tell me the rule.”

“No teeth,” you recite it, as you always do. “No biting. Only tongue.”

“And if you break that rule, what’ll happen?”

“Belt.”

He hums. He doesn’t particularly enjoy beating you; you don’t put up a fight, at least, not anymore, but your pained whimpers do very little for him. It’s purely a disciplinary measure, one of the few ways to keep you in line that actually deters you. He doesn’t do it often—usually you’re just over his knee and he’s using his hand, or a small brush sometimes—only when it’s something serious. And given your predilection for meat, he definitely views keeping your teeth off his dick as something serious.

“Open your mouth,” he orders, pulling his dick out from his sweats. It slides in easily past your lips and into the warmth. You make a face, wincing slightly, but he knows it’s not the intrusion that’s bothering you; rather the soap he forced into your mouth as he always does before he goes anywhere near it.

He knows exactly the sort of things that have been in that mouth, and it’s nothing he wants on his fingers or his lips or his heavy leaking cock.

You suckle at it eagerly, swirling your tongue around the tip in just the way he taught you; you’re whimpering slightly, the size overwhelming you, staring up at him with those wide, innocent eyes like you don’t even understand what's happening to you, a stray tear playing on your waterline.

Fuck, he shouldn’t be getting off on that. He shouldn’t fucking be doing any of this; you’re so naive, so inexperienced; you have no knowledge of the world beyond his apartment. You can barely string a sentence together; barely understand what he’s saying to you unless he dumbs it down.

You’re like a child. For all intents and purposes, you are one. The guilt and the shame sits heavy in his stomach as he pushes himself down into your throat.

“That’s it,” he groans. “You enjoy it, baby. Do I taste good?”

You make a humming noise, affirmative, tightening your lips around his shaft and he groans. “Shit.” You’re so fucking good at this when you can keep your damn teeth off of him. “Alright,” he says. “I’m gonna cum down your throat. Remember your manners and swallow it.”

It doesn’t take him long; he grabs the back of your head and pulls it towards him then starts to thrust, in and out, faster and harder until he’s fucking your throat and you’re gagging and spluttering around his shaft. Your sweet little hands are fisting at his shirt, curling the fabric around your fists like you’re holding on for dear life. He cums suddenly, quickly, directly into your throat. You probably couldn’t spit it up if you tried with how deep he is; still, though, he pats your head and praises you for swallowing it so sweetly. It’s a point of pride for him, honestly, how well he’s trained you up.

“Alright,” he says, tucking himself back into his sweats. “How you feeling?”

“Fine,” you mumble. You’re still staring up at him with those wide puppy eyes, the way that always gets him though he doubts you’re aware of that; you don’t seem to have any kind of pattern recognition, any understanding of cause and effect. He picks you up with his hands hooked under your arms and sits you down on the edge of the bed, then he crouches down to meet your eyes.

“You sleepy, baby?” He asks. You nod. “Alright, pet. You can sleep in my arms while I watch TV.”

He carries you through, your head tucked into the crook of his neck; by the time he puts you down you’re already snoring. He laughs slightly as he adjusts you so you’re cradled sideways in his lap, your face pressed tightly enough against his chest that your cheeks are squished. You look so cute when you sleep; so harmless.

Really, you look harmless all the time, unless you’re eating. But he’s hardly one to judge, he thinks, not anymore. He’s as inhuman as you are now.

He likes to get your food a few days in advance. He can’t stock up in bulk, unfortunately, because if the meat’s more than a week old it’ll make you sick, so he likes to go out every Friday for it.

It’s all procedural; clinical. He finds it, he brings it back, he cuts it and freezes and stores it. It’s as simple as that.

He gets no thrill from it; no pleasure. That fact is the sole thing that keeps him steady most days.

At just after eleven on Friday, he puts you to bed as he always does. On the nights he goes out, you sleep in your cage; it’s not a punishment, never has been, just a way to ensure you’re safe and contained while he’s gone. He’s tried to make it homely for you, with pillows and blankets and a couple of toys for you to play with; the little stuffed bear you like to pretend to pounce on and the toy car you push around and watch with wonder as the wheels spin against the floor. He’s never gone for too long, and by the time he comes back you’re almost always asleep.

Today’s kill is in two bags, as usual; they’re large, cooled, like the ones his mother would pack his picnics into when he was a child. He’s not particularly fond of cutting people up where they fall, but he knows he’d never be able to pull a body up the stairs without being caught; that’s why he tends to go for dark alleyways, empty buildings, wooded areas and the like—less people to stumble across him while he’s doing what he needs to do.

The gun is in his pocket, safety on, the silencer still wrapped around the barrel. He puts it away first, locked up in the safe, then puts the meat into the freezer and locks the door.

He’s pretty tired tonight. He’ll get the meat ready in the morning. He has to do it when he’s awake and alert and in the right frame of mind or the sight and the smell and the sound of the knife sinking into the muscle will make him retch.

You’re curled up and knocked out in the cage when he returns to the bedroom, your face tucked between your knees and your arms wrapped around your shins. He picks you up, careful not to wake you; you make a soft, quiet noise when he lifts you, somewhere between a whimper and a breath, but you don’t stir.

You sleep pressed against his chest, his face buried in your hair, breathing you in. He savours the nights like this, when you sleep together; your sleep schedule is so irregular that he rarely gets the opportunity to have you like this.

The last thing he’s conscious of is the sound of you murmuring his name against his chest, talking in your sleep.

The next few weeks pass normally enough. You eat well, as you usually do, and you listen to him when he gives you an instruction. He only has to spank you once, for making a fuss when he has to leave, and even that is just a few minutes with his bare hand, comparatively mild; he doesn’t even pull your panties down for it—just lifts up your shirt and slams his hand down until your skin is glowing red.

When he’s done, there’s a little wet patch on the crotch of your panties that he decides not to mention. He definitely notes it, though.

It’s on a Friday morning that things start to go downhill.

He wakes up to a missed call from his father—a bad start. He hardly talks to the man; hasn’t since he left for college, really. The only reason he still engages with him is that his mother is sick in the hospital and his dad is the only person who keeps him updated on it.

He presses the call button begrudgingly. The sound of his father’s voice makes him wince. “Yunho, hello.”

“Hi, dad,” Yunho says. He peers through the crack in his bedroom door, into the small expanse of hallway it reveals. He thought he’d heard you walking around when he was waking up, but when he got out of the shower you’d gone silent. He supposes you’ve fallen asleep somewhere. “What’s up?”

“Your mother is doing better,” his father says. “She’s walking again. Thought you’d like to know.”

“Oh, that’s good. Yeah. Thanks. Anything else?”

“Are you going to come to visit her?”

Yunho sighs, closing his eyes, massaging the bridge of his nose. “I told you,” he says. “I can’t right now.” He can’t leave you here—and he certainly can’t take you with him. God knows how you’d react, what you’d do; he’s not even certain you fully grasp the concept of anyone else existing but you and him.

“Why not?”

“I have a… I’m having issues with work. And I’m taking care of my friend’s kid.” A lie for several reasons. Yunho doesn’t have any friends.

“Well, bring the kid.”

“I can’t,” he says. “My friend is in the hospital, too. We need to be in the area if something happens.”

His dad doesn’t respond; just scoffs. The sound of the tone when he hangs up makes Yunho flinch, drawing his phone away from his ear. For fuck’s sake.

You’re on the couch, it turns out, only half asleep; Yunho wakes you with a hand on your shoulder and sits you up. “Come on,” he says. “Breakfast.”

“You were talking,” you say, following him through to the kitchen. “Why?”

“My dad called me,” he answers. “First time in months. I was talking to him.”

“Oh,” you nod, sitting yourself down, but there’s a measure of confusion on your face still like something’s not quite computing with you. “Are you my dad?”

You ask it so earnestly and innocently that it makes him sick. Not the question—the way his dick twitches in his pants in response to it. “What?” He shakes his head quickly, his face burning. “No. No, I’m not. Your dad is… your dad is the man that made you and helps you grow up.”

“You help me grow up.”

“Not when you were a child,” he says. “And I didn’t make you. I just look after you.”

“I don’t think I have a dad.”

“Do you have a mom?” He asks. “Like a dad, but a woman.”

You don’t reply; you just stare at him like you’re waiting for him to finish his sentence. He sighs. “A woman. You know what that means?”

“Me?” You ask uncertainly.

“That’s right,” he nods. “A woman has a hole, like you. A man has a dick, like me.”

“I didn’t have a mom,” you respond after a moment. “I had me.”

Yunho hums, processing what you’ve said; this is the most you’ve ever spoken about your life before he found you. There’s so much he wants to know about it; at the same time, though, he thinks he may be better off ignorant. He still doesn’t know what you are, really, why it is you need to eat what you eat, why other foods, other meats make you so sick and weak and grey. He can’t imagine any explanation for that that he wouldn’t regret finding out.

“Well, you have me now,” he says. “And I take care of you.”

“Dad.”

“No, not dad. Yunho.”

“Dad is a man that takes care of me,” you argue. You point at him. “Dad.”

“Not just takes care of you,” he says. “Dads don’t just take care of you, they make you as well. I didn’t make you.”

You frown, your hand falling; Yunho dares to think you look almost… crestfallen. He bites his lip. “Would you like to have had a dad, baby?”

“You,” you reply. “Have a dad that’s you.”

Oh Christ. He holds back a groan, willing himself to think of anything but his half-hard dick and the way that word sounds so soft and sweet and innocent on your tongue.

Well. Anything for his baby, right?

He tells himself over and over that that’s all it is; something to make you happy. “If you want to see me as your dad,” he says, “if you do see me as your dad. That’s okay.”

“I’d be a good…” You pause, frowning slightly. “If you’re dad, what am I?”

“A daughter, I suppose.”

“I’d be a good daughter.”

Yunho smiles. “I know you would.”

You eat quietly, not too messily; the meat he gives you this morning is mostly dried out, a few days in the freezer, so there’s no blood to drip down onto your shirt. When you’re done, you push the plate towards him with a whispered “thank you.”

He’s just about to head out when it happens. He doesn’t know why you decide to lie there, curled up on the floor in the middle of the hallway—he doesn’t even see you until it’s too late. His head is a mess, adrenaline already pumping as he readies himself for what he has to do; he’s rushing to grab his keys from one kitchen when he feels it. His shin presses up against something, something solid, and he’s falling before he can stop himself.

He hears the snap; feels the pain before he even realises what’s happened. When he looks down at his ankle, the break is obvious.

Fuck.

He groans; he tries to get up but the slightest weight on it has him stumbling back down again, hissing in pain, head spinning.

Okay. Shit. This is fine.

He’s set broken bones before; treated them. He did it all the time in college when he volunteered as a first aider. Nobody breaks bones like drunk college kids with someone to impress.

He hops over to the first aid kit, gathering what he needs, then sits down, his bad ankle resting on the chair in front of him. It doesn’t take too long to fix himself up; by the time he does you’ve woken up, wandering curiously into the kitchen; your eyes widen at the sight of him. “What happened?”

“I hurt my ankle,” he says simply. “I tripped over you. In the hall.”

“Oh.”

“How many times have I told you not to fall asleep where you’re in my way?”

You shrug slightly. You have the decency—the awareness, perhaps—to look a little uneasy.

“Well?” He prompts you.

“A few,” you say. “M’sorry.”

“You need to learn to listen,” he tells you. “I keep telling you things over and over and you don’t learn. You don’t obey.”

“Don’t be mad.”

“I’m not mad,” he says. “But I won’t be able to go out tonight.”

“What?”

“I can’t put weight on this. I don’t have anything to lean on. I can’t hunt down and kill someone in this state, let alone bring a corpse back to the apartment.”

You blink. “But I need to eat.”

“I can’t do anything for you,” he says. “I can’t get out until this heals a bit. You still have the supplies in the freezer.”

“And then?” You press. “When I finish?”

“We’ll make do,” he says. He pauses briefly, grunting, then gives a low, dry laugh. “You consider this part of your punishment, for never fucking listening to me.”

Only part of it, of course, because you absolutely have a belting in your future once he’s able to stand up again, and by the look on your face he can tell you know that. He could probably do it now, albeit awkwardly, but if he’s going to take the belt to you he’s going to do it with his full strength. Perhaps the wait will do you some good; help the lesson sink in a little deeper.

He tries to ration the food; it lasts you longer than he thought it would, but you have to eat regularly or you start to get sick; grey skin and unsteady on your feet and crying in pain like you’ve been poisoned. He’s learned from experience that, once that sets in, it doesn’t take long for your condition to deteriorate even more.

One week later, he manages to put weight on his ankle again. Not as easily as he’d like, but he manages to jog awkwardly around the apartment.

And a good thing, too, because your food has officially ran out.

He was annoyingly close to making it on time. He has everything ready by the time he’s fit enough to hunt. Just a few hours and he’ll be fully stocked up and the rationing can stop and his baby will have everything she needs again.

It very nearly works. There’s a queasy feeling in his stomach even before he sees you that tells him that it hasn’t.

You’re on the floor when he comes out into the living room. Your skin is greyed, glistening with sweat, and you’re whimpering and clutching your stomach. Fuck. He’s too late.

He curses, rushing over to you, pulling you up and into his arms.

“Baby,” he says. He tries to keep his voice low, steady, even, but panic is setting in and it feels like his stomach is twisting into a tight, tangled knot. “Sweetheart, look at me. Look at me. Stay with me.”

Your eyes are half shut, drooping; he curses under his breath, shaking you, calling your name. Soft at first. Then panicked. Then stern; that’s the one that has you responding.

“Yunho,” you whine. “F-food, please.”

“Okay,” he says. “Okay, I can go and get you some.”

“No,” you cry. You’re shaking now, smaller and frailer in his arms than he’s ever seen you, and your skin is ice cold, somehow soaked in sweat and bone dry at the same time. “Need— now. Please. Gonna— gonna…”

“Now?” He repeats.

“Please,” you whisper. “Gonna die.”

He believes you. He looks around the room, searching for something he can use; his eyes land on the kitchen countertop. On the case of knives, locked up.

The realisation sets in like sickness. He knows what he has to do.

“How much do you need?” He asks.

“Not… not that much,” you say. “Just some.”

“Stay here.” He eases you down onto the floor then pushes himself up; the case doesn’t need a key to open, just a simple latch mechanism, even that too advanced for you to crack, so it doesn’t take long to get what he needs. He comes back to kneel by your side, eyes moving between you and the knife and his leg.

Your eyes are closed now, but you’re still awake for the most part, mumbling things he doesn’t understand. You do that sometimes; did it a lot at first before he taught you how to talk. He theorised you’d had your own little language where you were before.

He pulls up his pant leg to around his knee. He goes for the calf, the same leg as his bad ankle; he’s going to take a strip out of it, he decides, down the side, so there’s not too much of him missing and he can go back out and stock up tomorrow, once you’re in the clear. He’ll have to adjust his methods slightly, perhaps, but he’ll get it done. He doesn’t really have a choice.

He inhales, a slow, shaking breath, then lifts the knife to his calf and presses down. He can’t help but squeeze his eyes shut as the blade sinks into his skin.

He bandages it carefully, with the supplies he’s cultivated over years of injuries, usually from people fighting back, that he couldn’t take to a hospital. He admits, though, that this is the worst one yet. Scratches and scrapes and bites and, once, a chain of keys stabbed into his arm, that’s one thing; this is an entire chunk out of his leg. He feels dizzy and sick and the pain makes his eyes water, every movement sore, but there was no alternative. He couldn’t just let you starve. Couldn’t let you die.

A small section of it, just a piece, forced past your cold grey lips and into your mouth, was enough to have you conscious and aware again. He carries you to the table and sets down a plate for the rest.

You’re slower to eat it than you normally are, as if you’re savouring it, savouring the taste of him on your tongue; you stare at it in what looks like wonder when he puts it down onto your plate, poking at it with your finger; pressing down on it so the blood seeps out from where it had been held by the meat.

“Yunho,” you murmur, then smile. “My Yunho.”

“How do I taste?” He asks. His voice is quiet, weak, his head still spinning a little, but you hear it nonetheless.

“Good,” you say. “Thank you. Hurt?”

“Me?” He asks. You nod. “Yeah, it does. It’ll heal, though, it’ll just leave a nasty scar I think.”

“Sorry.”

“Don’t apologise,” he says. “You needed to eat.”

You swallow the last piece with a smile; blood drips down your chin and lands on your chest, on his shirt, seeping into the fabric. He helps you take the shirt off as he always does; lowers you carefully into the tub to clean you up.

Usually, he throws the shirts into the washing machine and cleans them before they can stain.

This time, though, he throws it into the trash.

He doesn’t want to look at it anymore.

his gaze darts from the phone in your hand to your face and back again. satoru chuckles as you suddenly run up to hug him. he joyfully reincorporates the embrace; your happy mood being contagious.

you giggle and babble on about how you passed your two exams and how you ‘didn’t think you’d be able to attain such high grades’.

your boyfriend hums and strokes your hair whilst you ramble, kissing the top of your head with a proud expression, “as expected of my girl. i’m super proud of you.”

there goes the praise again—making your heart flutter in ways that no one else had done before.

you sigh in content and bury your face into his chest. satoru pulls back after a moment, tenderly cupping your face so he can look into those pretty eyes of yours.

you’re his weakness. he knows you are—he’s always known you are, yet that adorable look on your face whenever you gaze up at him through your eyelashes never gets old.

that same look also makes him want to do unspeakable things to you; things that would have you crying from pure pleasure. you deserve to be shown what a true man would do for you out of love.

what a true man like your lover would do to you for your own satisfaction and pleasure.

“i think my pretty girl deserves a reward for doing so well on her exams,” satoru whispers, slender fingers trailing from your jaw to your neck, brushing over your collar bone, “would you like that? a reward just f’you.”

you weren’t born yesterday.

you knew exactly what he is indicating. you can tell by his loving yet lustful gaze, his fingers that sensually drag along your skin and his tongue that darts out to subtly lick his lips. as if he’s preparing to devour a five star meal.

which he was.

“f—ngh, satoru!”

your legs are wrapped around his head, his mouth and tongue working their magic on your sopping cunt whilst his hands are holding you down by your hips.

satoru hadn't wasted a single second after you agreed to his proposal. he instantly lifted your skirt up, pulled your panties down to your ankles and dived right between your legs.

your thighs are clamping down on his head—almost forcing him to continue pleasuring you. not that your lover minds: he’d gladly do this again and again if he could.

satoru leaves sloppy kisses all over your pussy, drenching it in not only your own bodily fluids, but his own saliva as well.

“mm, a little needy, aren't ya?” he mutters whilst softly kissing up and down your slit.

he’s admiring both the sight and the noises—your back arching, hips stuttering and voice shaking with need.

the older man certainly did enjoy the view of your cute little face contorting with pleasure each time the top of his tongue teased your clit, “yeah, cmonnn, let me see your face while i eat you out.”

you hesitate, however eventually remove your hands that try (and fail) to hide your flustered expression. satoru lets out an almost inaudible whine at the revelation. his cock is begging to be freed from its confines.

he wants to fuck you into oblivion, but today is your day. he longs to satisfy your own desires first.

satoru is nasty with it too. the unmistakeable, erotic and wet noises of him slurping up your juices mingle with your moans and whines. the white locks of his hair brush against the insides of your thighs and right above your clit—tickling you in all the right ways and adding to the pleasure you were receiving.

“fuck,” the older man curses under his breath and the warmth against your pussy makes your lower body twitch.

his big hands squeeze around your hips, silently warning you to stay still so he can properly enjoy you, “y’re gonna make me cum before i can make you finish.”

his words are true.

satoru can get off from simply watching and hearing his girl enjoy herself. he has no shame in admitting that fact; he can't help it when you’re this incredibly gorgeous.

he grinds his crotch against the soft mattress as his mouth continues to eat you out in a painfully slow yet tender manner.

“t-toru, g'nna cum,” you whimper and try to grind your cunt against his tongue in search for that last push that would send you over the edge.

your high-pitched voice sounding so extremely whiny seals the deal for your boyfriend. he pulls his head away from your tingling cunt—which is a second away from reaching its orgasm—and sits up on his knees.

satoru smirks once he hears your mumbled complaints. one large hand settles on top of your head and gives your scalp a few relaxing rubs whilst the other hastily undoes the zipper of his pants.

he tilts his head to the right, glancing down at your squirming form with a lopsided grin, “d’ya want another treat, princess?”

of course, you nod.

you’re aching for that release that's been building up in your lower stomach—needing to reach that long awaited climax. your eyes follow his movements as he pulls his pants down. again, as painfully slow as possible.

“just a nod? tha’s all i get?” satoru pouts, nonchalantly revealing his lengthy cock for you to feast your eyes upon.

he sighs dramatically before trailing two slender fingers down to your cunt, gathering your slick and using it to coat his tip. the pre-cum mixes with your own fluids and the erotic sight makes your mouth water, “i know for sure that my smart little girl can use her big words to get what she wants—let me hear ‘em.”

while you gather your thoughts and words, satoru lays down behind you, helping your body onto its right side. you’re facing the wall, therefore unable to see that cocky expression he has on. his arms pull your back flush against his chest, positioning your hips and lifting one of your legs up properly.

“p-pleasee, need to have you inside me. can’t wait any longer, ‘toru.” you manage to beg in the end.

the warmth radiating from his body behind you only increases your sinful craving. he teases you by kissing your nape while his hands get rid of your top—fingers then immediately fondling your tits.

his husky voice whispers a 'good girl' in your ear and that’s all you got as an answer before you feel his cockhead prod at your entrance. satoru hisses at just the slightest of contact—not sure if he can last long this time. he feels like he will explode the moment his tip glides inside your pretty cunt.

“so beautiful, can’t believe how lucky i got,” satoru grunts as his lips refuse to leave your skin. from your neck to your shoulders and upper arms—he doesn’t leave a single inch uncovered.

it’s almost tortureous: the way he grinds his tip against your pussy as he touches the rest of your body with his hands and mouth.

you whine and rub your hips back in the same rhythm. you’re indirectly begging him to put it in already and be takes notice of it. since you have begged nicely once before, he won’t coax you into doing it again.

with a light moan, satoru slides his throbbing cock all the way up the tight space. the squeal you let out at the sensation of being stretched out to your maximum capacity, makes him murmur a few more words of praise in your ear.

“y’re doing so good—takin’ me so well,” his voice is smooth like honey, the same goes for his soft thrusts. the way your pussy grips his cock makes him see stars.

your boyfriend never gets tired of making love to you because the hypnotising feeling of being inside you doesn't ever get old. it feels like the first time he had stuffed you full of his cock over and over again.

you’re feeling light-headed by now; your eyes rolling back as your mouth forms an 'o'-shape—the cockdrunk look satoru loves to see on you. the squelshy 'flop flop flop' noises echo throughout the room with every deep thrust of his hips against the plump flesh of your ass.

satoru's long fingers go from playing with your nipples to groping your hips and ass. his eyes gaze downwards, watching as the fat of your bottom ripples after his pace quickens.

you’re trying your best to keep up, but the overstimulation of all your senses makes it hard to match your movements to his.

“aht aht. you've worked hard enough on your exams already, princess. just lay back and allow me to do everything, satoru scolds you lightheartedly.

this is your reward and he doesn’t want you putting in any effort if your body can’t handle it. he wants you to relax like you deserve after a stressful period of exams and assignments. he’ll happily do all the work instead.

“oh, mmh! too good—fuck!” you mewl.

your fingers curl around the bedsheets that move back and forth with your bodies. a bigger hand settles on top of yours—intertwining your fingers and holding onto them tightly. you can feel satoru smiling against the skin of your shoulder as he kisses it, absolutely enjoying your little reactions to his thrusts.

“yeah? am i doing well?” he asks in a teasing tone.

he doesn’t have to ask that question; he knows he’s doing well judging purely by your bodily reactions. your back arches and your limbs shake uncontrollably, “am i pleasin’ my baby well enough?”

you can only moan out a couple ‘yes’’s, but that is enough of a confirmation. the older man is on cloud nine as he drags his thick cock in and out of your desperate cunt. every time he pulls out he can feel your pussy try to swallow him back in. it drives him nuts.

“i love how you look whilst i stuff you full of my cock. so innocent, yet so.. lewd at the same time,” satoru mumbles through another groan, the hand on your hip holding your body still so he can fuck his dick deeper into you.

the tip of his cock nearly reaches your cervix due to the angle he uses to move inside you.

your long-awaited and much deserved orgasm is right around the corner. your moans increase in frequency and volume which is enough of a sign for satoru to increase the pleasure. his fingers trail down your hips and to the center between your open legs—thumb putting pressure on your clit.

the extra stimulation has got you biting into the pillow beneath your head, your lower body writhing around as your lover rubs the small bundle of nerves in circles and from side to side. his hand moves fast, its mission being to help you reach that intense orgasm you’re chasing after.

satoru is feeling it himself as well. his cock aches and twitches as it gets ready to drain its balls inside your pussy, “cum with me baby—fuck—cum on my cock while i dump my load all the way into y’r tight little cunt.”

that is all the encouragement you need.

your eyes roll back and your body convulses as the waves of pleasure come crashing down all at once. you can feel satoru’s hips desperately push against your ass, filling you completely with both his dick and hot spurts of cum. you feel the warm essence leaving its evidence in your womb.

the bedsheets underneath your two bodies is now drenched in your slick after you calm down a bit. your boyfriend continues to place comforting kisses all over your naked body, trying to show his appreciation for you in all the ways he could.

“y’ did so well. you deserved this, princess.” satoru mutters softly, the hair clinging onto his forehead.

he gently pulls his soft cock out after a minute of making sure that every drop of his cum stayed inside of your cunt. he loves the feeling of fulfilment that it gives him—loves the fact that he filled his girl to the brim.

you smile weakly. you’re fucked out: completely and utterly. it feels good and you’re more than satisfied with your reward. it even gave you enough motivation to do well on future exams.

“thanks, ‘toru. ‘m feeling sleepy though.”

satoru snickers. you’re always so adorable and vulnerable around him after the two of you partake in such activities. he loves it and it makes him want to take care of you.

“you deserve plenty of rest, so go ahead.”

he smiles gently, kissing the top of your head after you close your eyes. one of his hands hold yours whilst the other rubs your side soothingly, “i won't leave. i'll stay right here with you as you sleep. i promise."

satoru knows you need to hear those words in your vulnerable state. and surely enough, you smile once more and nod. your body falls asleep the moment his strong arms pull you into a loving hug.

his lips attach to your ear in the form a chaste peck. his smooth voice is the last thing you hear as you fade into an unconscious state;

“i love you so much, yeah?”

it couldn’t be. sukuna doesn’t have any weaknesses, and yet he can feel his body reacting to that unfamiliar emotion again. all because of you— that one human who always succeeds to occupy his mind.

he couldn’t let himself succumb to it—he’s not going to. sukuna is not going to let a mere human like you deter him from his superior identity that he’s had for decennia. he’s not going to let you have that power over him and his body.

and thus, when you return to the estate, you find yourself being laughed at. you were unpacking your luggage when two concubines stand at your doorway, hiding their evil smiles behind their handheld fans.

they don’t waste a single second and immediately rush to ruin your carefree mood.

“you know, you shouldn’t have returned at all,” the brunette giggles, her laugh sounding like nails scraping against a chalkboard. she looks to the other woman next to her before glancing back at you, “i mean—heh—lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence.”

you figure it’s just another way to get you riled up, so you do your best to ignore them. you put your packed kimonos in your wardrobe as your back faces the two.

yumi, the second concubine, nods along. she knows what she’s about to reveal will get on your nerves. and deserved, if you ask her. they had successfully caught the attention of their king while you were away. for the first time in a good while since your arrival in the estate.

the fact that they managed to spend quality time with sukuna again, is a wonderful first step to your downfall. one that will surely crumble your confidence as his so-called ‘favorite’.

“mhm,” yumi grins as she recalls the memories of her time with sukuna. time spent together that you were unaware of, “lord sukuna definitely didn’t seem to mind your absence when he had me in his bed last night.”

you freeze.

your brows furrow and the corners of your lips twitch. you don’t know if you should believe them—they could’ve lied about it for all you know. although, the voice in the back of your head had already rang the alarms.

guessing by the way they were dying to talk to you the second you came back - which never happens - you realise that they’re probably telling the truth. they’re only telling the truth to agitate you. it’s so painfully obvious, and yet so. . . hurtful.

“what?”

you don’t recall when you’ve choked up. you feel a lump in your throat. it shouldn’t even be there. you promised yourself to not get attached to a monster like sukuna.

so what if he went to bed with his other concubines?

of course he’ll get pleasure from his other women when you aren’t around. he doesn’t feel any love, he sees it as worthless, so why did you expect him to not indulge himself? he still has his other concubines around for a reason.

you really shouldn’t be surprised by this revelation.

“what do you mean ‘what?’ - you heard me,” yumi shrugs, that cocky smirk still on her face.

she’s clearly enjoying your reaction to everything she’s revealing. all the two concubines wanted to get out of this encounter with you, is to break that delusion of yours.

the delusional thought that you’re special to the king of curses. the delusion that sukuna considers you as something more than a toy to emotionally manipulate and play with until he’s tired of you.

“my lord spent all night with me in his chambers until the sun rose,” yumi continues without an ounce of shame.

she bites her lip as she remembers the way sukuna had her body positioned on his large bed. for her, it’s a dream come true.

though for you, it’s a living nightmare. even if you try to deny the fact that it physically and mentally hurts. there’s a painful twist at your heart—reminding you of the truth.

the truth being that you had truly thought that sukuna wasn’t really a monster of a man. you thought he was a different, more softer person around you.

you should’ve listened to the servants when they told you to not get tricked by sukuna’s special treatment, that he could easily manipulate you and make you do and act as he pleases.

“do you want me to explain it in detail?” yumi crosses her arms over her chest as she looks down at you with a menacing glare.

both of the concubines are loving that face you’re making. that face of defeat that you’re attempting to hide from them, “how he held me and pleasured me until i—”

“enough,” you cut them off with your hands clenched into fists.

you don’t want to hear another word. you’re already feeling awful; already, not even an hour into your return. you can never catch a break.

you have an urge to throw things around. you already feel stupid, and if you decide to throw a fit, you bet that you’d feel even dumber. you truly do not know why you’re getting this worked up about it.

maybe it’s because of the special treatment. the delusional thoughts you have about your relationship with sukuna. you really thought that you two had something special. an unofficial romantic relationship, perhaps, or something that resembles it.

a secret, unspoken deal where you’re promised his loyalty in exchange for your body and soul.

although, those dreams have been shattered this very instance. you’re once again reminded of the animalistic nature of the being called ryomen sukuna.

he told you clearly that he’d never tie himself to someone, a human no less. devotion to one person? why would he.

“out of the way.”

you push the brunette and her sidekick the other way. you’re going to confront the man yourself. or at least, you’ll try to. you can hear their sick laughs and chuckles fade into the background as you stomp your way towards sukuna’s chambers.

the other concubines seem to have gotten the gist. some peek their heads out of their rooms, grinning at you in victory. seeing your confidence slowly crumble and the realisation kick in - the realisation that your dear lord’s special treatment means absolutely nothing - is a sight for sore eyes to them.

you enter sukuna’s room and close the heavy doors behind you. you swallow the lump down your throat and try your best to look presentable.

no tears, you promise yourself. you’re not going to waste them on something like this.

“oh, it’s you, little one,” the familiar voice calls out.

sukuna’s low and husky voice rings from his bed. he’s laid back against the many silky pillows, blowing smoke from his kiseru. he lays there like he doesn’t care about your reappearance at all.

he eyes you up and down, “how was your vacation, hm?”

sukuna asks like it’s the most normal thing to do. it seems like he’s trying to catch up with you, to ask you how you’ve been enjoying your time alone, though it also seems like he couldn’t care less at the same time.

“just absolutely fine, my lord,” you reply with gritted teeth and an obvious hint of sarcasm.

there’s also a bitterness to your tone that doesn’t go unnoticed by the pink-haired man. he frowns—this cold greeting is not what he expected nor what he wanted to hear from your mouth. he expected you to at least smile at him like you usually do, but you didn’t.

on top of that, you seemed to be annoyed with him. that unexpected attitude of yours made something inside of him snap. it irritated him somehow; the fact that you’re so comfortable talking to him like that . . . it reminded him of the recent inner conflict he had which you were the cause of.

one of his hands tightens into a fist at his side. his jaw clenches and his eyes narrow into slits. you’re physically in front of him, which means that he’s also about to experience those complicated feelings again. the same ones he tried fleeing from by letting you go on a break, and by physically taking his mind off you.

he did the latter by taking his frustrations out on his other women. the stress that came with the thought of him possibly liking a human, relieved by pure animalistic sex.

that’s exactly what you’re upset about.

there’s an urge inside of sukuna to act normal. to ignore those difficult emotions and just treat you like he usually does. yet, another part of him is trying to protect his sense of superiority by trying to push you away.

there’s a war going on in his mind as he tries to calm himself down. you’ve always had this effect on him and it’s becoming unbearable. he has to show you, no - remind you, that you’re nothing to him. you mean nothing—nothing at all.

he’s the king of curses, you’re but a human. he’ll need to remind himself of that obvious statement as well. he’s got all the power in this situation. not you.

you cannot rule over him or his mind.

“you dare come back with an attitude? tch,” sukuna scoffs, nearly breaking the kiseru with his fingers as they squeeze around the solid material.

he’s turning off whatever emotion present in his body. that doesn’t belong there anyway. he won’t care if you cry—he won’t care at all.

you notice the sudden change in sukuna’s tone as well. you’re sure you’re the reason for it. perhaps you crossed a boundary with how sassily you replied to him when he was simply asking you how your vacation went.

“my apologies,” you murmur with a sigh.

you try to avoid getting on sukuna’s nerves any further, yet when you remember the words from the concubine, how she implied that sukuna had given her the best night of her life when you were away, you get mad again.

your eyes have a fiery look in them. you don’t want to get worked up. you don’t have the right to. you were warned from the very beginning to not get attached to an asshole like ryomen sukuna.

you’re to blame for feeling like this. it could’ve been prevented if you just weren’t so weak. if you just stayed away from him.

“did you have fun while i was away, my lord?” you continue, your voice shaking a little. you need the confirmation.

you’re sure sukuna knows what you’re referring to by now, especially because of the way you’re acting out of character.

the king of curses raises a brow at your question. you sound even angrier, even more pissed off. he tilts his head after taking a deep inhale of the tobacco from his kiseru.

he tries to figure out what you’re hinting at, “what are you—”

and that’s when everything fell into place. the dots connect.

sukuna’s jaw clenches. he realises that you’ve found out about him receiving services from his other concubines while you were away. there could be no other explanation behind your sudden attitude. besides, he knows how his other concubines could be. they must have told you the moment you came back.

normally, he’d say that it’s none of your business. what he does is up to him—he does not care about the consequences of his actions. though, seeing the slight hurt in your eyes, mixed with sadness and disappointment stirred something inside of him. he brushes that feeling away and stares at you intently, awaiting another comment. perhaps you’d cuss him out or bawl your eyes out in front of him.

either way, he promises himself that he won’t care.

sukuna is the king of curses. feeling bad for a human like you would only further tarnish his image, that image of superiority and power he has.

he’s a man of many needs. you should’ve kept that in mind when you left him. he wanted to keep you with him—to hold you down and refuse to let you leave—but that would be another sign of weakness. one sukuna could not manage to show.

when you departed, he was irritated by the fact that he had no one to turn to with his needs. from simple needs like wanting your company to sexual needs like craving your body.

keeping you by his side or letting you go; both decisions seem to clash. either way, there’s one thing he’s sure of, as much as he doesn’t want to admit it: he missed you.

sukuna can’t believe that he can feel an emotion like that. he can’t accept that fact. that’s why his irrational mind took over—his dark urges that strived to prove himself to still be the same old ryomen sukuna. the monster that did not need a single soul. the ruthless man that did not depend on anyone else, especially not a human. a woman like you.

he thought he’d forget all about you if he’s surrounded himself with other women. but, he was quick to be proven wrong, and that only caused to enrage him more and more.

every time sukuna fucked a concubine, his thoughts still manage to drift away to you. to how he wished that it was you he was holding.

nothing hit the same with the other women and that frustrated him. he’d keep them around in his room after he fucked their brains out, something he never allowed a woman to do except for you, yet kicked them out again after a few minutes.

it doesn’t hit the same.

you’re just different. your presence is soothing and calming to the chaotic soul of the pink-haired man. no one else could compare. that realisation made him feel inferior; a feeling he loathes.

sukuna’s red eyes glow. he hates seeing you look so defeated, but he cannot give in. if he tells you the truth, he’ll admit his weakness. he’ll admit that a human like you has completely taken over his brain. that’s no good.

if he doesn’t tell you the truth, he’ll save face. he’ll feel like himself again. his old self—the cold ruthless monster that he was before he met you. one without a soft spot for a human.

it’s an active dilemma that’s running through his mind as he slowly blows out another cloud of smoke. you cannot guess what’s going on behind those intimidating eyes staring you down.

sukuna tilts his head back and scratches his neck, smacking his lips as he makes his decision.

“yeah, i did. i had lots of fun.”

the words sting. they hurt you and make your heart ache in a way that makes you physically weak. you should’ve expected that answer. your shoulders tense up and your fingers curl around the material of your kimono—feeling a sense of anger and betrayal.

you can see a ghost of a smirk on sukuna’s lips, which only reminds you of his nature. his nature as an independent, aloof and cold man who likes to play with his prey. a natural disaster that knows no emotion, that shows no mercy to anyone.

you’re naive for thinking that you could be the exception. all of those times with sukuna were confirmed to be but a lie in that moment. as your gazes meet, you can now easily interpret what that look in those red eyes meant.

‘know your place,’

that’s what it means. you’re foolish, dumb. you take a deep breath to compose yourself after you’ve been made out to be a total fool. you should’ve listened to those warnings, you should’ve known that you were getting played.

this is exactly what sukuna desired to achieve. to build up your trust, to make you comfortable enough with him, to think you’re special and that he won’t need any other woman other than you — just to shatter your pathetic delusions when the time comes.

“tsk tsk. no need to look at me like that,” sukuna scoffs, a mocking laugh leaving his lips.

he can hear a small voice in the back of his head telling him to shut up and let you go, to not make it worse, but who is he to listen to that irrelevant thought? he can decide for himself.

“y’ weren’t around, so the other concubines simply did their job by serving me,” he stares the other way, seemingly not interested by your presence anymore. his face is as expressionless as ever, “what do y’ think i keep them ‘round for, brat? for decoration purposes? hah, nah.”

another loud mocking laugh makes you nearly burst out in tears. you don’t know if it’s in anger or sadness. you take a deep, shaky breath for the last time. you unclench your fists and nod, accepting the reality check you’d just gotten.

it’s a slap to the face, but it helped you get out of your delusions. the delusions that sukuna is a man capable of loving someone, even if it is just for a tiny bit. this visit confirmed that there’s not an ounce of love or appreciation in that man’s body.

“i’m glad you had fun, my lord,” you answer after a bit of silence.

you bow at sukuna in an attempt to stay polite while struggling with that inner turmoil. you don’t even glance up at him anymore. you need another break already.

sukuna isn’t dumb. you may think that you’re good at hiding your emotions, but you’re not. at least not around the king of curses. he’s spent enough time around you to realise that you’re going through a lot right now.

he’s the reason for it, yet he cannot bring himself to feel an ounce of empathy. he just looks at you with a blank stare, thinking that this is for the best.

“good night then,” you add and turn around to walk out of sukuna’s room.

your steps are slow as you secretly hope to be called back, like sukuna would do every time you’d leave his room after an intimate night. you just want him to tell you that this was a test of some sort—a cruel joke.

you want to feel like his favorite again. you don’t want to be thrown away like this. you don’t want to be on the same level as all the other concubines. you want to stand out to him.

unfortunately, you don’t hear sukuna’s voice anymore. he lets you walk away without a care in the world. the heavy doors of his chambers close behind you and you feel your knees buckle.

“fuck,” you cuss to yourself and clench your chest.

you lean back against the closed doors and try to regain your composure. crying can be done when you’re in your room—not in the hallway where anyone could catch you. you don’t want to give the other concubines more reason to bully you.

you drag your feet across the wooden flooring. all those times with sukuna, all those slight glimpses of his soft side that only you’re allowed to see— all of that is thrown into the trash.

you really shouldn’t have gotten so attached to him on an emotional level.

meanwhile, sukuna is silently sitting on his bed, thinking back to what just happened. he usually never doubts his decisions, but this is an exception. why couldn’t he just tell you the truth?

his mouth had moved before he could let his mind process all that he was feeling. a small part of him regrets it, though strangely, he couldn’t feel any real sympathy for your situation.

sukuna drapes an arm over his eyes, clicking his tongue at himself. he just wants to let the situation go, though his brain isn’t letting him to. the image of you standing at the edge of his bed, clearly hurt by his actions, flashes through his mind again.

he sighs. he’s sure that he’s going to forget about you soon enough. he needed an excuse to get rid of you for the sake of regaining control over his own being and he took the chance. he should be glad that he did—it meant that he’d be his usual self—with no weaknesses to look out for.

sukuna blows out another cloud of smoke through his mouth. as much as he’s proud of himself for not giving in to you, he can’t help but let his thoughts wander again. you’re probably crying in your room. he knows you’re sensitive. you would always cry about the smallest of things and he’d hold you (feigning reluctance) until you’ve calmed down.

he can’t do that now.

well, he can, but he won’t. sukuna has made his decision today: it’s power and status over you. that’s what it’s always been. you were but a toy he used to get a stronger grip on himself.

perhaps he simply is what people make him out to be; a monster. nothing more, nothing less.

you were actually exhausted. whole body aching, the last thing you needed was to talk to him, but as always, there he was. your asshole of a flatmate. with his stupid glasses on as his amber eyes strolled through the pages of his book miles per hour.

“well, look who it is. past midnight. seems like cinderella by how fucked up you look.”

you rolled your eyes at the smirk on his tone, kicking off your heels. “fuck off reid, i’m not in the mood for your bullshit.”

your relationship had been strained from the start… you two were like oil and water. always had been, since the two of you were five and had the sufficient conscience to choose if you liked each other or not. and believe me, if you had had another choice… you wouldn’t have even taken up the offer to live with him. but your mother, diana’s best friend, as soon as she had learnt that you had been given a promotion and needed to move to quantico? had told the blonde, who excitedly told her that spencer was looking for a flatmate. that sealed your destiny. and now there you were. sharing space with the person you loathed most in the entire world.

“hell, okay, you’re not fucked up at all, ‘cause getting some dick wouldn’t have left you like that.”

you groaned, your head throbbing, full body tense. “well at least i get to fuck, not like you, you only get off to letters on paper.”

and he dared to chuckle, fucking chuckle. he closed his book and put it aside, tall frame leaving its seat at the sofa to slowly stroll over you.

“well isn’t your vocabulary a delight?” he crooked his head. “now why don’t you tell me what’s gotten you all bothered, princess. ‘cause i’m sure my incredible presence cannot be it.” he said sarcastically, but he seemed intrigued to know what had happened. “hard day at work? did starbucks ran out of caramel drizzle? or is your rose toy dead?”

“you little…” your hands were reaching for his throat, but he was faster, his tongue clicking as his strong long fingers surrounded your wrists, stopping you centimeters away from his warm skin.

“really, doll? trying to choke an fbi agent? such a bad girl…” you gasped as he pinned you against the wall. “you could get in a lot of trouble for that. maybe i should use my cuffs on you. or maybe not, i’m sure you’d end up enjoying it.” he muttered that last part against your ear, your cheeks reddish in both anger and embarrassment.

“fuck you.” you spat, and he chuckled, dark and teasingly against the skin if your neck. you were not done. he wanted to play dirty? two could do that. “and what do you say about extortion of people by your power, huh? an fbi agent trying to make me kneel under him for his status? i could easily get you fired. you should be ashamed, reid… but… it seems like you are more like… excited, huh?” and with a roll of your hips against him you confirm what you had suspected: he was hard. rock hard at that.

he smirked at you, ignoring your jab as he leaned over you. “are you threatening me?” he muttered against your lips, his tongue wetting his bottom one.

your eyes followed the movement, and your throat dried up. you squinted at him. “are you?”

“you know… all this brattiness of yours is really getting on my nerves.”

“really? by how hard you are… i would believe you’re enjoying it.” you muttered back. your breaths were mingling. there was heat pooling down on your lower stomach. and the tension exuding from your bodies could be cut with a knife.

“you need to learn to keep your mouth shut.” he growled, eyes dangerous.

“but wouldn’t you like it wide open…, reid?”

you could feel the moment he said “fuck it”, his brown eyes now completely pitch black. “yeah? then open the fuck up.”

and next thing you knew? his tongue was deep into your mouth, which had willingly fallen open for him. the two of you groaned, and the tight hold he had on your wrists turned bruising. it was as if he hated the idea that he desired you so much. maybe he did. maybe you did. but right now the only thing you could focus on was on his hard cock pushing against your belly, and how soaked your panties felt stuck against your throbbing clit. when had you gotten so wet?

a moan left you as his plush lips surrounded your tongue and sucked, a hum leaving his chest when he then moved to your neck, sucking some more on the skin there.

“i think i ought to teach you a lesson, don’t you?” you whined as he bit down on your pulse point. “answer me.” a choked gasp left your lips when one of his hands, the one that wasn’t holding now both your wrists up, came down harsh against the side of your thigh on a smack.

“yes.”

“that’s what i thought.” he purred, and your eyes almost rolled back at the sound of his deep voice. “on your knees.” he ordered as he let go of you, and busied his now free hands on unbuttoning his slacks. you got lost for a minute there as you caught sight of the wet patch decorating his boxers, but he was quick to get you back on page. your eyes widened when his hand took harshly your face. “do i need to repeat myself?” he hissed and you shook your head. “then. get. on. your. fucking. knees.” you complied, knees on the hardwood floor, puppy eyes staring right onto his. “that wasn’t so hard, wasn’t it? let’s hope you suck cock better than you follow orders.”

your pussy fluttered. fuck. why was this turning you on so much?

“show me that tongue.” you stuck it out to him. pink. salivating. ready. he hummed and pushed down his boxers and pants down his thighs. your eyes widened at the sight of his thick cock. “let’s keep that dirty mouth of yours busy, yeah?” and before you could even react, you were gagging around him. it hurt. your lips were fully stretched around him, and your jaw was about to give up by the uncomfortable stuffiness. but god… it felt so good… he tasted so good… reid groaned, fingers winding into your hair and tugging as his hips snapped and his cock hit down your throat. “fuck. so that mouth is actually good for something, huh?”

your eyes couldn’t help but water, your nails scratching at his thighs as he didn’t even give you a chance to adjust before starting to fuck your face. you couldn’t help but moan, eyes rolling as the air in your lungs thinned. he was literally fucking you dumb. and you couldn’t love it more.

“such a fucking slut. look at you. you act harsh but as soon as a dick is shoved into your throat you start to act like a good girl, hm?“ you whined, thighs squeezing against the other, throat swallowing around him and making him grunt. “jesus, you’re tight. wonder how your pussy will be. probably will have to stretch it open first, break it in since you haven’t brought anyone home to fuck since you moved in, huh?” he chuckled. “the walls are thin, you know? you think i don’t hear you pumping your fingers into your little cunt every night? poor thing. you’re so desperate for cock you would take anyone’s, huh? even mine. but, actually… i’m starting to believe it’s the one you’ve been wanting the most, isn’t it?” you whimpered. “hm? what’d you think about while fucking your pussy, doll? did you think about me listening to you? that the reason why you’d moan louder? for me to hear? wanted me to come into your room and show you what a good orgasm is supposed to feel like?” you nodded, too lost to actually try and hide how the idea of him listening to you masturbating just a few doors away made you squirt all over your sheets. he chuckled. low. mockingly. “of course you did.” he pushed down your throat even harder. “all that time acting as though you hated me and you just liked me, huh?” you gasped and coughed as he pulled out of your mouth, smacking his wet leaking cock against your flushed cheek.

“i hate you.” you swore and his eyes glinted.

“yeah? well, for someone who hates me, you really love sucking my cock.” he chuckled when, while gliding his tip along your bottom lip, your mouth subconsciously opened. “you want it?”

you kept silent. what could you say? you couldn’t say no. that would be a lie. but you also couldn’t say yes, that’d would make it too easy for him. but before you could catch yourself you were…

“please.”

begging.

his smile was that of the cheshire cat. “atta girl.” you moaned when he fed it back to you, pumping it down your throat over and over again. you relished on the musky scent, on the tuffs of hair of his base kissing your nose, on his tip making you gag over and over again until you became so messy and sloppy that trails of spit dribbled down past your lips and chin onto your thighs. “thaaaat’s it. so messy. can’t help but want to…” and then you’re gasping as hot spurts of cum hit your face, making you even more messier. spencer moans as he strokes every last drop out of his breeding tightening balls. “fuck. look at you. so pretty like this…” your mouth stays open for the dripping of it, the salty release hitting your tongue and making you hum.

when you open your eyes, your cunt throbs. he looks gone. wild in pleasure. and starving.

“get up.” your legs shake and you almost trip by how fast you complied. “i’m not done with you yet.”

not even 10 seconds go by before you’re being thrown onto his bed —his bedroom being the nearest one of the two—, and another 10 is what it takes him to get you bare before his eyes. his eyes appreciatively took the sight of your heaving chest and rosy nipples in, the smoothness of your tummy, the plush of your thighs…

he pumps his still rock hard cock. how does he manage to have that much stamina? it hadn’t even gone down —not in the slightest— after making a mess of your face with his cum.

“it’s not gonna-” you try and say, but his words cut you off quickly enough.

“mouth shut. eyes on me. legs open. i’ll make it fit. even if i have to break apart your pussy for it.” you swallow, and god, if you hadn’t you’d have died of embarrassment by the whimper that tried to leave your throat.

you open your legs for him. pussy lips spread, soaking wet just for him, hole twitching in need of being fucked and clit puffy and sensitive pleading to be touched.

“knew she’d be pretty…” he groans, licking at his lips, hand tightening around his dick. his fingers come to your sticky cheek and gathers ropes of his cum, and before you could inquire him about it, he’s stuffing them into your needy little cunt. “jesus, she’s tight. can’t wait to break her open…” your eyes roll as he sinks them to the knuckle and curls up up up until he hits that spongy spot that makes you sing the prettiest moans late at night when you know he can hear you.

“spencer…!” you whimper, your legs falling further apart, hips twitching for more.

“that’s it. open up for me.” he smirked, pushing a third finger inside that has you choking on a scream, walks tightening down hard around his digits he grunts. “trynna milk me so soon, baby? i haven’t even put it in.”

he fucks you open with harsh strokes, but he’s diligent, he makes sure you’re slicked up and ready, loose enough for his puffy head.

but when he aligns it up with your entrance, his jaw ticks. “it’s gonna be a tight fit. now, say ‘biiiiig stretch’ for me, mh?”

“biiiig—ngh!!!!” you can’t even comply, not when he’s basically splitting you in half. your nails dig on his back as he pants and tries to fit in past the first ring of muscles.

“jesus.fuck.” with a ‘pop!’ his tip presses in, and you two moan in unison. your lungs feel like you’re on fire, and your eyes sting. but fuck if it doesn’t feel good being so full. “good girl…” he praises. and at first you think it’s directed towards you. but no. his thumb sweetly circles your clit and you cry. “taking me so good… you’re doing so good for me… now, open a little bit more for me, hm?”

he’s talking. to your pussy.

but it’s not “little” how much it has to open to accommodate him. every fucking inch is devastating. and by the time his balls hit your ass, his tip —if it could be possible— would have breached your cervix and fucked itself into your womb.

he falls onto you the moment you clench, and groans against your neck. “if only i had known you’d feel this good… i would have fucked you much sooner.” he then looks at your dizzy eyes and faded face. you’re half brain dead on his cock. he can’t help but chuckle. “so this was the fastest way to make you behave and shut up, huh? good to know.” he slaps at your cheek, and you blink, breathing ragged and heavy, his hips grinding deep against your cervix, making you whimper. “don’t you dare tap out on me. i haven’t had my way with you yet.”

and then he’s fucking you. reeeeeally fucking you.

your back arches, your nails draw blood down his back, and your cunt gushes in lewd wet sounds that resonate around his room by how hard and deep he plunges into you.

“fuck. so good… best pussy i’ve ever had. made for me, aren’t you, gorgeous?” he murmurs, and you are so lost… he’s mean. his hands are rough as they grip your hips in a way you know will bruise, and his cock is so harshly fucking you open that you believe he’ll leave the imprint of himself permanently molded to your walls.

you can feel every vein, every ridge.

“spencer, spencer, spencer…!” you cry and he chuckles in between grunts.

“so now it’s ‘spencer’, huh? what happened to ‘reid’? you’re so happy to get dicked down that you’re calling me by my name now?” one of his hands surrounds your neck, and when it tightens… your pussy does as well. “fuck! and here i thought you couldn’t get tighter…”your legs cage him, making your back arch and his dick reach deeper in places no one ever had. “needy little girl… feels good, huh?” you moan, mouth open and he takes the chance to spit on it. and when you quickly and obediently swallow what he gives you? he speeds up. “fucking slut. you love this, don’t you? love the fact that i’m breaking you apart. fuck. you even let me go in raw, bet you’ll even let me breed you if i wanted, huh?” your cunt flutters and his head hangs for a second as a strangled moan leaves him. just for a moment there, he almost lost control and busted. “you want it, honey? want my cum deep into this pretty little womb of yours?” you moan and he lets go of your neck to slap your cheek again, softly, but harsh enough to make your clit twitch. “answer me.”

“yes, yes, plea-“

“not you.” he grunts, going harsher, deeper, faster. “i’m not talking to you. i’m talking to her.” your breath leaves your lungs once two of his fingers meet your puffy clit, rolling it, pinching it. your pussy squelches. and he hums. “yeah? you want it that much?” another squeeeelch!, you’re dripping down to his sheets. “then take it, pretty. it’s all yours.” and you scream, ‘cause the way in which you’re coming when his thick warm ropes of cum fill you is insane. it’s like nothing you’ve ever felt before. your ears ring, your vision darkens at the corners, your brain seems to melt, and your pussy squirts in little unstopping spurts that soak his cock, balls, sheets… your juices are everywhere, and fuck if it doesn’t make spencer come even harder…

by the time his balls are drained and his hips halt, his cock up to the base inside you to keep you plugged in with his cum, you’re basically passed out, eyes crossed as you try to focus back onto the present. you can’t even remember your name. fuck, you can’t even remember how to breath.

and your legs shake like crazy when in a flip he’s got you on all fours —well not all, since one of his hands has your face smudged against one of his pillows—. “again.” he says, breathless as he pushes in his still hard cock into your abused and stuffed cunt. “show me how you squirt again. i wanna see it again.”

you were not getting out of this alive.

You lay out lazily on your boyfriend's bed, waiting for him to finish his shower after he had a long day at work. Scrolling through Twitter, laughing to yourself as you come across yet another article, ‘Timeless y/n and Ateez Mingi Spotted Together Once Again, Coincidence or Not?’ This had to be the third or fourth article within the last two weeks.

When the first article dropped after you were spotted with Mingi at a local coffee shop, you were beyond worried about how your boyfriend would take it. However, seeing his face twist in annoyance and jealousy flipped a switch in you. The way his jaw would clench when he’d spot people on Instagram or Twitter talking about you and Mingi, or when ship edits started to get posted of the two of you, or even when you were sitting in the room alone with just Mingi. It was insanely attractive and left you dripping in your painties.

Wooyoung knew it wasn’t your fault for what the press did or didn’t post, but he also couldn’t help the way that it pissed him off beyond belief every time he saw the photos.

You then made it your goal to see just how much your boyfriend could take before he finally snapped. So you kept going out in public with Mingi, even though you knew you could be spotted, just to get a rise out of your boyfriend. After the first week or so, you stepped it up a little bit. Getting a little too friendly with Mingi, laughing at his jokes a little too hard, your hands wandering his body a little too much, your voice a little too surly when you talked to him, being just a little too close. Mingi, of course, was oblivious to all of your little antics, thinking you were just being friendly and sweet like you normally were. It started to drive Wooyoung up a wall, so much so that he had to avoid being in the same room as Mingi so he wouldn’t lash out at the poor boy. Eventually, he caught on to what you were trying to do, and he could feel his blood boil. He could handle you being a brat, but this? He was damn near at his wits' end, a hair away from snapping.

Coming back to the present time, you were snapped out of your thoughts when a knock at the door was heard. Muttering a quick ‘come in,’ you weren’t too surprised to see Mingi standing there, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket.

“Hey, Mingi.” You smiled sweetly at the boy who returned your gesture before looking around the room, presumably looking for your dark-haired boyfriend.

And just as you thought, the question fell from his lips, “Where’s Wooyoung?”

“He’s in the shower.” You told him, and Mingi nodded before walking over, flopping down onto the bed, his upper body draped over your lap.

“Did you see the new article?” He pouted as he started to pick at the end of your skirt, causing you to smile, but you nodded your head before tilting your phone screen down to show him that you had been reading it. Mingi sighed dramatically, his face falling into the side of your thigh, “I hope they stop soon, I’m pretty sure Woo is gonna strangle me the next time one comes out.” He shivered at the thought, causing you to start laughing.

You knew he was right. Wooyoung has been avoiding Mingi like the plague for the past few days. Anger and annoyance are the main expressions he wears anymore, his jaw always locked tight, afraid he might say the wrong thing. But you were enjoying it, maybe a little too much.

Just then, the bathroom door swung open, ceasing your laughter as Wooyoung walked into the room, towel in hand, as he dried his damp hair. However, as soon as his eyes landed on you and Mingi in his bed, you could have sworn you saw a fuse blow in his head. His eyes darkened into a glare demanding that Mingi leave, not a single bit of room left open for discussion.

Mingi nearly levitates off the bed before rushing out of the room as quickly as he possibly could, not wanting to be at the end of your boyfriend's wrath. You watched with an amused smirk as Wooyoung’s eyes trailed from the doorway back to you.

“Is this really that amusing to you?” His voice was cold as he walked towards the open door; it sent a shiver down your spine, and your thighs clenching together. You, however, just hummed with a shrug before looking back down at your phone. Though you peeked over the top of it, excitement bubbling in your chest as you watched Wooyoung slam the door shut before turning the lock. The moment you had been waiting for was finally about to happen, and you finally got him to snap. You mentally cheered, completely missing the borderline psychotic gleam in your boyfriend’s eyes.

Wooyoung walked back to the end of the bed, a snarl pulling on his upper lip, revealing his pointy canine. The very canines you wished would mark your body up, leaving behind puncture wounds and bruises, even though you would get a lot of shit from your manager and makeup artist. He never did, though, because he knew the stakes; however, now? Now all of those thoughts—all of the sane thoughts—completely vanished from his mind.

He leaned over the bed, grabbing your outstretched ankle before yanking your body down to him. A small gasp fell from your lips at the sudden action, but was quickly quieted when you bit your tongue as Wooyoung hovered over you, slotting his body against yours.

The dark lustful look in his eyes had your body wiggling in anticipation, a shock rushing through your veins when you felt his erection against your thinly covered core. Thinking back to all of the stuff you did to get here, it made you giggle because you thought you had finally won. Or so you thought. Wooyoung, on the other hand, found it far, so far, from amusing.

“We'll see how much you’ll be laughing, princess,” He chuckled darkly before his slender fingers wrapped tightly around your throat, causing your breath to hitch, but all the air was soon taken out of your lungs when he kissed you, hard.

A cry tore from your lungs when he bit down on your bottom lip before sucking on it. You were sure that it had drawn blood, but your mind was quickly bought elsewhere when his other hand cupped your boob, squeezing harshly.

“You just like the attention, huh?” He growled, nipping at your jaw, “You’re just a little attention whore, is that it?”

You whined as his grip on your throat got tighter, not enough to completely cut off your air supply, but definitely enough to make you feel a little lightheaded. Wooyoung was normally always rough when it came to sex, but this? This was new, and you’d be lying if you said it didn’t turn you on even more.

“Don’t think I don’t know what your little game was.” His voice was deep, sending shock waves throughout your body, “how you purposely left with Mingi knowing the press was watching,” He moved his hand, allowing you to breath, but not long before his sunk his teeth into the soft flesh of your neck causing you to cry out his name, “or how you threw yourself all over Mingi…” Tears pricked at the corner of your eyes as he continued to bite and suck on your neck, leaving deep purple and red marks. “All for what, huh? My attention? Well, guess what, princess? Now you have it.”

You knew you probably pushed him way over the edge the moment he started to mark up your skin. While his hands were tight enough on your body, you were sure they’d leave bruises behind. Then that dark lust that clouded his eyes was the final ringer that let you know, ‘oh, I really fucked up’.

“Woo-”

“What’s the safe word?” Oh, you definitely fucked up You knew he never mentioned the safe word unless he was going to be rough. The two of you only came up with it just as a percussion, mainly when you tried something new. But for him to ask now, when you could clearly see the anger in his eyes? Yeah, you were screwed.

When he didn’t get an answer quick enough, he grabbed your face, squishing your cheeks together, moving his face merely inches away from yours.

“What’s. The. Word. Y/n.” Wooyoung snarled, enunciating every word with a glare while your eyes were wide, not quite out of fear but something else you weren’t sure what to call.

“Purple.” You responded to the best of your ability with his hand on your face, eyes staring into his.

Then he let go of your face before pushing off your body, standing flat on his feet. You pushed yourself up, eyes on him, ready to ask what he was doing. However, his voice was quick to beat you to it.

“Strip, and on your knees.”

The tone of his voice was already enough to leave you dripping in your underwear, but the way his eyes bore into you made your whole body shiver. This new side of Wooyoung was something you never thought you would need, but now you do. You wanted so badly to disobey him, but you knew that if you continued to push his buttons, he wouldn’t hesitate to leave you without cumming.

So with shaky legs, you pulled yourself to your feet before slowly undoing the button on your skirt and letting it fall to the floor. You could feel Wooyoung’s fiery gaze on you as you pulled your shirt over your head and threw it off somewhere in the room. Once you were left standing there completely bare before him, Wooyoung walked over and put his hand on your shoulder, pushing you down onto your knees.

“Now be a good girl and put that pretty mouth of yours to use,” He spoke lowly, his finger combing through your hair until he got to the crown of your head. A whimper fell from your lips as you placed your hands on his thighs to stabilize yourself when he tugged your head back harshly. “And I swear to god you try to tease, I will leave you here tied to the bed with a vibrator attached to your cunt.” The way his upper lip pulled back to show his pointed teeth, you knew he wasn’t lying.

“O-Okay,” You choked out as he cranked your neck back a little more, eliciting a cry from your lips. He then let go, standing straight once more, allowing you to relax your neck a little bit. You wasted no time in pulling the strings of his sweatpants loose before hooking your fingers around the waistband to pull them down. Once his pants were pooled at his feet, you lifted yourself up a bit, mouth watering at the sight of your boyfriend’s hard dick.

Wooyoung then held something out to you, and your eyes went wide at the sight of the little pink egg, “put this in that needy little hole of yours and don’t you dare cum without my permission.” Your gaze shifted from the little toy to your boyfriend’s hooded gaze before taking it into your hand.

You kept your eyes locked with his as you brought the toy down to your pulsating heat, rubbing it up and down to collect your slick to use as lube. The slight stretch it offered left a whine falling from your lips, but it wasn’t nearly enough. That’s what you thought, at least, until a sudden vibration caused your whole body to jolt and a moan to slip past your lips. Then it was gone. Wooyoung watched from above as your body relaxed a bit, your eyes shifting to meet his once more.

He then grabbed himself at the base before tapping the head against your lips, prompting you to open your mouth. You parted your lips, sticking your tongue out, letting him drag his tip across your wet muscle, hissing at the contact. Shuffling a bit closer, you encased your lips around his tip, causing him to groan. Wooyoung gathered your hair into a makeshift pony-tail before thrusting his hips forward, sheathing his entire length in your mouth. Thankfully, your gag reflex was almost nonexistent; otherwise, you were sure you would be a choking mess.

His pace started out steady; his hold on your hair kept your head in place. Until he found his rhythm and his hips snapped forward, hitting the back of your throat, causing tears to prick at the corner of your eyes. Then the little toy inside of you buzzed to life, causing a moan to tear through your throat, muffled by his dick. The vibrations caused Wooyoung’s head to fall back with a groan.

Your head started to go fuzzy with pleasure as Wooyoung continued to piston his hips until your nose brushed his pelvis bone. The vibrations then kicked up, causing your body to jolt, nails to dig into his thighs, and you to moan around his cock. All of the sensations were overwhelming, and you weren’t sure if you would last much longer, but then Wooyoung’s words echoed in your brain. Knowing that he would punish you even more if you came without his permission, you tried your best to hold it in.

The drag of his cock along your tongue was enough to have your eyes roll back as you pressed the wet appendage against him.

“Fuck, this is supposed to be a punishment, yet you look like you enjoy sucking my dick.” He chuckled darkly before a throaty groan broke from his lips, his hips stuttering as he got closer to his high. You hummed around him, trying to keep yourself grounded, but you nearly choked as he turned the vibrations up to the highest setting. Tears were spilling from your eyes as you screwed them shut, pleasure overriding your senses.

Wooyoung wanted to burn this image into his memory, the tears running down your flushed cheeks. How the mixture of his pre-cum and your saliva dripped from your chin. The dark purple and red bite marks that covered the skin of your neck. The way your hips rocked against nothing but the air as you struggled to keep from tipping over the edge. God, it was a picture-perfect sight, and if he could, he would share it with the world. A clear sign that you were his.

The thought of all of your guys' fans seeing it drove him over the edge, his dick twitching in your mouth as he painted your throat white. An animalistic growl tore through his mouth as he rocked his hip, riding out his high before shutting the vibrator off. He then pulled out of your mouth, watching as you closed your lips, swallowing his seed without a word. You then opened your mouth once more, tongue lolling out to show him.

He then tugged on your hair, causing you to whine as you stood on wobbly legs. Not giving you a moment to breathe before his lips found yours in a heated kiss. He groaned at the taste of himself on your tongue before maneuvering you back until your knees hit the bed. A gasp fell from your lips as Wooyoung picked you up and crawled onto the bed before laying you flat on your back.

Wooyoung pulled away from your lips, pressing hot, wet kisses along your jugular down to your breast before encasing one of your nipples in his mouth. A breathy moan escaped your parted lips as your fingers ran through his hair, tugging slightly.

A loud cry escaped from your lips, and tears fell from your eyes when the vibrator kicked back to life. Your hips are bucking against Wooyoung’s body, and your hands are tugging on his blonde locks. The male smirked as your body tensed underneath his, listening to every little noise that left your pretty lips.

“Woo— fuck!” You cried out when you felt his slim fingers prodding at your entrance, thumb pressed against your clit. There was no way you were going to be able to last long at this rate, but when you met his dark gaze, you knew you had no other choice.

Your back arched off the bed when he pushed two of his fingers into your pussy, pushing the little egg further in. A lewd, pornographic moan tore from your lungs when it pressed against your sweet spot.

“Found it,” Wooyoung chuckled, pulling his mouth away from your tits to watch as your body convulsed under him. His fingers started to pump in and out of your slick walls while turning the vibrator up.

Your ears were ringing, and your brain was starting to go blank as your body became overwhelmed with pleasure. Moans and cries of Wooyoung’s name fell from your lips like a mantra, and you could feel that little knot tighten to the point of almost snapping.

“‘M close! Woo, please!” You cried out, back arching off the bed as your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head. Then, just like that, your orgasm was ripped away from you when Wooyoung pulled not only his fingers out but the vibrator as well. Pleas and whines slipped past your swollen lips as your vision focused, but your words were cut short when Wooyoung wrapped his fingers around your throat once more.

“Oh no, baby, you seem to have forgotten.” He left a chaste kiss on the corner of your lips before moving to your ear, “This is a punishment, you’ll cum when I say you can.”

Tears spilled down your cheeks as you locked eyes with your boyfriend, your mind reeling. This wasn’t how you expected things to go, sure you knew he was going to punish you, but this? Your whole body was on fire, and with the touch of Wooyoung’s finger, it felt like it was searing your skin, leaving behind traces of his touch.

Your jaw fell slack as Wooyoung slipped his fingers back into your dripping cunt, moving at a harsh pace. His thumb presses down in tight circles on your clit. Cries left your lips as you tried to push your boyfriend's hand away from your sore hole, but he was quick to grab your wrist with a growl, pinning them above your head.

“Don’t be a brat, be a good little slut and take my fingers.” His words stung in all the right ways, and your cunt squeezed around his fingers. Wooyoung smirked before catching your lips in a bruising kiss, muffling all of the moans that escaped from your throat.

Your head fell back as you tried to wiggle your hips away from Wooyoung’s hand, the sensation becoming too much, almost mind-numbing. Wooyoung pulled his fingers out before landing a firm smack to your clit, causing a loud cry to fall from your lips, tears flowing down your cheeks.

“What did I say?” His tone was a low growl, sliding his finger back in.

“Please, Woo, it’s— fuck! ‘S too much.” Your cries only spurred your boyfriend on, speeding his fingers up.

Broken sobs fell from your mouth as you felt that same knot in your gut reappear, but you knew that he would just rip that away. Your nails dug into the palm of your hand as you tried to ground yourself, but his fingers just kept rubbing your velvet walls in all the right ways, making stars cloud your vision. And then it was gone once again.

Wooyoung’s dick twitched at the sight of your tear-streaked face, loving how your makeup smeared under your eyes, how tears stuck to your eyelashes as you looked up at him with the fuck-out expression he loves so much. His eyes then traveled down the length of your body, your hands pinned so perfectly under his, the love bites that littered your neck and chest, the sheen of sweat that coated your body, then finally your dripping cunt. Your slick is leaking out onto his sheets, leaving a wet patch. The sight made him rock-hard once more, to the point that it almost hurt.

His silence was worrying to you because you couldn’t tell what he was thinking, let alone what he was going to do next. Just then, he released your wrist before leaning over to his bedside table. Your eyes went wide as he pulled out the bundle of black rope, shaking your head frantically.

“No, no, I’ll be good, I promise! Wooyoung, please.” You begged, tears streaming from your eyes. However, those pleas were cut short when he glared down at you, holding his hand out for yours. “Wooyo—”

“Hands. Now.” His tone left no room for negotiation, and with a whine, you placed your hands in his. Watching as he bound your wrists together before pulling them above your head to attach them to the headboard. Once you were locked in place, he leaned down, face merely centimeters away from yours. “Should have thought about that before, huh?” His voice was harsh, his eyes gleaming, almost sadistic. “Maybe I should mark up this perfect body of yours, then maybe you’ll get the idea that you’re mine.”

You bite your lip as he moves down your body, hooking his hands under your thighs, lifting your lower half until your ass rests on his chest, legs hanging over his shoulders. The position was extremely uncomfortable, but that soon slipped away from your mind when his lips latched to the inside of your thigh. Your breathing was ragged, breathy moans and whines falling from your lips as he left bites and marks all along your inner thighs.

Once he was satisfied with all of the marks he moved down, blowing on your drenched pussy, watching as you clenched around nothing. Wooyoung gathered a ball of saliva on his mouth before letting it drop onto your clit, watching as it trailed down to join the abundance of slick. Your eyes watched his movements, lips tucked between your teeth. He then dived right into your pussy, licking a long stripe from your slit to your clit before harshly sucking on the bundle of nerves, eliciting a strangled moan from your lungs.

“Holy shit!” You cried out as your head flew back into his pillows, hips bucking into his face. Sparks flew across your vision as he held onto your hips, tight enough to halt any of your movements.

Wooyoung then trailed back down to your slit, sticking his tongue in, tasting your sweetness as it gushed out onto his tongue. He hummed at the taste, sending vibrations through your core, making you cry out his name, hands clenched into fists above your head. He continued to eat you out like a starved man while you were a whining mess under him, tugging on the restraints, hoping they would budge, but they didn’t.

“Woo— fuck, please don’t stop.” You cried out, head falling back as he latched his lips to your clit once more, drawing patterns on the little button. The pillow under your head had your tears stains on them as the salty liquid continued to flow from your eyes at the instramenable amount of pleasure you were feeling.

You begged him not to stop as you felt that knot reappear once more, hoping that he would finally let you have that release. Wooyoung smirked against your core, listening to your choked pleas and moans. His movements didn’t let up as your body started to twitch, a tell-tale sign that you were close.

“Cum for me slut.” He growled against your skin, the mixture of the vibrations and his teeth slightly scraping against your clit had you toppling over the edge. Your body convulsed in his hold, toes curling behind his head, and his name leaving your mouth in a borderline scream. It all just spurred your boyfriend on as he continued to devour you, easily throwing your body into a state of overstimulation.

All of the muscles in your body tensed, and your shoulders grew sore from the angle they were placed in. You were sure that your legs wouldn’t be usable the next day, nor would your voice, but that was a problem for future you to worry about. Right now, your brain is far too cloudy to think straight, pleasure drowning all of your senses.

A silent scream tore through your lips as Wooyoung placed the little vibrating egg against your clit. Your legs moved to snap closed, but Wooyoung was quicker than that, grabbing a hold of one of your thighs, keeping it in place. The mixture of the vibrations and his tongue buried in your cunt had your legs shaking by his head, another orgasm already on the horizon.

Incoherent moans and noises fell from your lips as he brought you over the edge once more, eyes squeezed shut. Wooyoung slurped up all of your juices, not leaving a single drop before pulling the vibrator away from your twitching clit. He then placed a kiss on the bundle of nerves, causing a small squeak to leave your lips. Your eyes then opened slowly, meeting Wooyoung’s eyes as he looked down at you with a smug look.

As he lay your body down, you could feel your muscles relaxing, and you closed your eyes, trying to catch your breath. However, your eyes snapped open when you felt the tip of his cock prodding at your entrance.

“You didn’t think we were done already, did you, princess?” He chuckled, watching the shock on your face morph into pleasure as he slid in with little resistance. Your nails dug into the palm of your hand as a choked sob tore from your lungs.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck…” The word fell from your lips in a rushed chant as Wooyoung’s hips started to slam against yours. “‘S too much, Woo!” You cried out as your back arched off the bed.

“No, it’s not, just shut up and take it,” Wooyoung growled, hands holding onto your hips with a vice-like grip. A high-pitched squeal broke through your parted lips when his hand came up and wrapped around your throat once more, “whose pussy is this? Who’s making you feel this good? Who do you belong to?”

“You.” The words choked through your lips, but that didn’t fully satisfy the male; no, he wanted to make sure everyone knew.

Leaning down, he ghosted his lips over your, “then say it.”

He then leaned back up and pounded into your sensitive cunt, making your head spin, “Fuck! Yours, Wooyoung!” You screamed as your head fell back, missing the sadistic smirk on your boyfriend’s lips.

Wooyoung continued to thrust hard and deep into you, his pace never slowing, and you could already feel another orgasm creeping up. The words came out jumbled as you tried to warn him, his fingers squeezing the flesh on your neck.

You were clenching around his dick like crazy, causing him to groan, “fuck keep doing that, and I’m bound to breed this cunt of yours.” The words only made you clench around him again, making him chuckle, “You want that, don’t you? You want my seed filling your womb until you’re sure to get pregnant, huh?” You mewled at his words, fucked out eyes looking up to beg.

Seeing the expression on your face almost drove Wooyoung over the edge, your tear-stained cheeks and glossy eyes that were begging him to cum inside, then your swollen lips that were parted as you moaned out his name. Fuck he wasn’t going to last much longer. Taking his hand off of your neck, he moved down to press his thumb against your clit, circling it in tight circles. Your hips bucked at his touch as your nerves were set aflame once more. The knot in your stomach tightened to an unimaginable level, but this one felt different. Like your body was about to burst, but before you could even get the chance to warn Wooyoung, your orgasm hit. Your release gushing out in waves, coating your and his thighs. A loud pornographic moan fell from your lips, and Wooyoung cursed under his breath at the sight.

“You fucking squirted you filthy whore.” He chastises you, his hips stuttering as he feels his high creeping up. A whine fell from your lips as he continued to fuck into you at a harsh pace until he finally tipped over the edge with a groan, painting your gummy wall white.

Wooyoung continued to rock his hips into yours, riding out his high before coming to a complete stop. His eyes squeezed shut, feeling you wrapped around his still semi-hard dick, milking him for all he was worth. Opening his eyes, he let the flutter down to where the two of you were still connected, groaning at the sight of the white ring around the base of his cock. He wanted to capture this moment. So he did.

Leaning over, he grabbed your phone that had been haphazardly thrown to the side before opening the camera, ignoring the article you had pulled up. You didn’t even realize what he was doing as you tried to catch your breath until you heard the shutter click. Your eyes opened at the noise, surprised to see your boyfriend aiming the camera down at where his dick was still stealthed inside of your cunt.

Wooyoung could feel himself grow hard again at the sight, wanting nothing more than to make a big mess out of the two of you. Swiping on the screen, he switched to the video recorder and hit the little red button before rocking his hips against yours. A whimper fell from your lips as he continued to toy with your puffy cunt.

“Oh, I’m not done with you yet, baby…” He chuckled darkly, his eyes meeting yours, “far from it.”

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

Sadist!wooyoung who takes you to the sex store to pick out your favorite toys.

Sadist!wooyoung who makes you wear a remote controlled vibrator while you’re out. Even if it’s just a hangout with friends. He makes sure you never leave the house without it.

Sadist!wooyoung who has a paddle with your name engraved in on it with a little heart at the end.

Sadist!wooyoung who treats you with gentle hands outside of sex, making it known that he actually does love you and cares about your mental and physical wellness.

Sadist!wooyoung who runs you a bath every day, simply because he wants to. And no, it’s not only when he’s been rather rough either.

Sadist!wooyoung who traces his handprint he left on your cheek with his thumb before pressing kisses to it.

— “I’m about to whip you.” “I didn’t even do anything?” “I don’t care. I haven’t hit you in a while.”

Sadist!wooyoung who makes you sit on your knees while he gives you however many lashes he wants to across your back with his personal favorite whip.

Sadist!wooyoung who gives mock praise, telling you “oh, you’re crying? Be a good girl and take more, I know you can my pretty.”

Sadist!wooyoung who almost cums whenever you cry, even if it’s not during sex. Seeing you emotionally distressed is one of his turn ons.

Sadist!wooyoung who presses on your lower stomach whenever he’s balls deep inside you, he gets off on feeling his own cock, to be honest with you.

Sadist!wooyoung who bites your neck hard enough to draw blood, swatting your hands away when you try to stop it from bleeding too much.

Sadist!wooyoung who doesn’t let you cum until he’s came inside you at least three times.