#planetherk

[planetherk]

ENDLESS

two is always better than one, right?

jeong yunho x reader x song mingi

tw: poly relationship, smut, implied age gap between reader and the boys, unprotected sex (please be careful!!), this is written in third person, non idol au

wc: 3k

There’s something oddly domestic about the way she wakes up most mornings now—wrapped between two warm bodies, her cheek pressed to one bare chest while someone else’s hand is tangled in her hair.

Mingi’s deep voice is the first thing she hears, groggy and low. “You’re squishing her again, Yuyu.”

“I am not,” Yunho mumbles, his arm tightening instinctively around her waist.

She doesn’t open her eyes yet, just lets herself smile, because this is the way it always is. Her being the smallest, the youngest, somehow makes her the natural center of gravity in their trio—both literally and emotionally.

It started off simple. They were best friends. Friends who met in their early twenties through a mutual roommate situation that turned into a ride-or-die friendship. Movie nights turned into sleepovers. Sleepovers turned into her falling asleep on Mingi’s lap while Yunho played with her hair. Somewhere in between all the half-laughed jokes about being a “throuple,” things got blurry.

Because now, Yunho calls her “baby” in front of strangers without thinking twice. Mingi pulls her into his lap whenever she’s tired, and presses lazy kisses to her shoulder if she’s wearing an oversized tank top. They both call her "princess" and "sweetheart" and once, when she had a bad day, Mingi muttered a quiet “mine” while spooning her that left her too stunned to breathe for a full minute.

But nobody talks about it. Not really.

They flirt, they touch, they share everything from hot ramen to bedsheets—and yet there’s never been a conversation. Not one. And maybe that’s why she stays quiet, too. Because what if it breaks the magic?

She finally opens her eyes, blinking up into the golden light filtering through the apartment blinds. Yunho is lying on his side, facing her, still half-asleep but already watching her. Mingi’s on her other side, shirtless, sprawled like he owns the entire bed. One of his legs is tangled with hers under the blanket, his hand draped over her thigh.

“Morning, angel,” Yunho says softly, brushing hair off her face.

She hums. “Morning.”

“You hungry?” Mingi mutters, voice raspy from sleep, and leans forward to press a kiss to her temple. “We could order that dumb pancake stack you like.”

She smiles into the crook of Yunho’s arm. “The one with the strawberries?”

“Duh,” Mingi grins, finally cracking an eye open. “You’re our spoiled girl, remember?”

Yunho nods, nuzzling into her shoulder. “She gets whatever she wants.”

And just like that, the ache in her chest blooms again. That aching, aching question: What are we?

But she doesn’t ask. Not today.

Instead, she lets herself melt into their touch. Mingi starts scrolling through food delivery apps, lazily resting his hand on her bare knee like it's second nature. Yunho rubs soft circles into her back, humming some tune she doesn't recognize. The bed smells like their shared shampoo, warm skin, and something she can’t name.

It’s not quite a relationship. But it’s not just friendship either.

The pancakes arrived almost an hour later, lukewarm and dripping in chocolate. But none of them really cared. They were still in bed—barely clothed, limbs overlapping in that easy way they always seemed to find themselves in. She sat cross-legged in the middle of the bed, wearing nothing but one of Yunho’s oversized black t-shirts and a pair of Mingi’s boxers she’d stolen from the laundry pile. Her hair was a mess of waves and sleep, cheeks still pink from all the cuddling and lazy touches.

Yunho sat behind her, his knees bracketing her hips, arms wrapped around her waist as he fed her bites with a fork. “Open,” he said softly, voice teasing against the shell of her ear.

She laughed, turning her face slightly toward him. “I have hands, you know.”

“I like feeding you,” he murmured, fingers brushing her bottom lip a little too slow, too soft, like he was testing her reaction.

Mingi, sitting in front of her with the takeout box in his lap, smirked. “It’s true. He’s obsessed. Probably dreams about it.”

Yunho grinned against her hair. “Only when she makes that little sound after the strawberries.”

She went still for a second, eyes flicking between the two of them. Then she rolled her eyes, cheeks burning. “You two are impossible.”

“You love it,” Mingi said, reaching forward to tuck her hair behind her ear. His knuckles grazed her jaw in the process. “You looove when we spoil you, pretty girl.”

That nickname hit low in her stomach. She didn’t respond—just looked down at the sticky takeout box, pretending she didn’t feel the slow, smoldering heat creeping beneath her skin.

The room was quiet for a moment too long.

Yunho’s fingers were now tracing lazy circles on her thighs, slipping lower each time the loop completed. Mingi watched her like he was reading her—eyes sharp, knowing, like he could see all the questions she never asked.

“You’re quiet,” Yunho murmured near her neck, lips barely brushing her skin.

“I’m just…” she swallowed, shifting slightly in his lap. “Thinking.”

“What about?” Mingi tilted his head, gaze flickering down to her lips before settling back on her eyes.

“I dunno. Us.”

Another pause. This one felt heavier.

Yunho’s hand stilled. Mingi’s smile faltered, just for a second.

But then Yunho kissed the spot just behind her ear, slow and warm, and said, “We don’t need a label to keep doing this, angel.”

“Unless you want one,” Mingi added, voice dropping half an octave. “Because we’d give it to you. You know that, right?”

Her breath hitched. “I—no, I mean… I like this. I just don’t always know what this is.”

“Us taking care of you,” Yunho said simply.

“You being ours,” Mingi added, licking a bit of chocolate off his thumb, eyes locked on her.

The way he said ours made her thighs squeeze together instinctively. And Yunho noticed. Of course he did.

His voice was practically a purr now, right by her ear. “Do you like when we call you that?”

She turned, only enough to glance at him over her shoulder. “Call me what?”

“Ours,” Mingi said again, voice like honey and heat.

The silence stretched again—tension thick and humming in the small room.

She swallowed hard. “Yeah… I like it.”

Yunho’s arms tightened around her. Mingi’s eyes darkened, just a little.

“Good,” Yunho murmured. “Because you are.”

ღ⋆ღ⋆ღ⋆ღ⋆ღ

That night, it happened again. They were watching a movie—something dumb and loud—and she was sandwiched between them on the couch, like always. Her legs were draped over Mingi’s lap, Yunho’s arm thrown casually over her shoulders, hand resting dangerously close to her chest. It wasn’t weird. This was normal. But tonight, something was… different.

Maybe it was the wine. Maybe it was the way Mingi’s hand had been slowly running up and down her calf for the past half hour. Maybe it was the way Yunho’s fingers had started playing with the hem of her shirt, brushing the soft skin of her waist in lazy, absent-minded strokes. Whatever it was, she was buzzing.

She shifted slightly, trying to get comfortable—but Yunho’s hand slid a little lower, settling warm and firm against her ribs. Mingi's fingers curled around her ankle, then higher, grazing her knee. No one said a word.

Her breath caught in her throat when Yunho leaned down and murmured, “You’re tense, baby. You okay?”

His voice was all silk and sleep and care—but the way he said baby made her squirm.

Mingi noticed. She knew because his hand moved higher.

He chuckled, low. “She likes when we talk to her like that.”

“I know,” Yunho whispered back, brushing a strand of hair from her neck and pressing a kiss there. “She gets so quiet when she does.”

“Am I not allowed to be quiet?” she asked, voice shaky.

“No,” Mingi said, eyes burning into hers. “Not when you’re thinking things and not telling us.”

She blinked, lips parting. “Like what?”

“Like how badly you want us to touch you right now.”

Silence.

Then Yunho’s lips grazed her ear. “Are we wrong?”

She couldn’t speak. She didn’t need to.

Mingi leaned forward, cupping her cheek gently. “We can stop anytime, baby. Just say the word.”

But she didn’t. Her breath came shallow, her body tense but humming, curled between them like something sacred.

Mingi was still holding her ankle, fingers slowly sliding up to her thigh—his touch featherlight but certain, like he was memorizing her. Yunho’s lips hadn’t left her neck, each kiss growing slower, deeper, warmer. He nuzzled just behind her ear and whispered, “Still okay?”

She nodded, voice lost to the heat blooming low in her belly. But Yunho pulled back slightly, one hand coming up to cradle her jaw. “We need to hear you say it, angel.”

Her lips parted. “I’m okay. I… I want this.”

Mingi leaned in then, mouth brushing her knee as he looked up at her, eyes dark and hungry but still soft. “You sure, pretty girl?”

She met his gaze, something sparking behind her lashes. “I want you. Both of you.”

That was all it took.

Yunho leaned forward, kissing her full on the mouth—slow, firm, no hesitation. His lips were soft but demanding, tilting her head gently with his hand. She moaned into it, and he swallowed the sound like it belonged to him. Mingi shifted closer, running his hand up her other thigh now, kneading gently. His lips found the space under her jaw as Yunho kissed her, and the sensation made her whole body tremble. They were touching her like she was something they’d waited for. Something they weren’t going to rush. Something they deserved to take their time with.

“Let us take care of you,” Yunho murmured against her lips.

Mingi’s hand dipped under the waistband of his own boxers she was wearing—his fingers brushing her pussy, slow and deliberate. Her back arched instinctively, a gasp escaping her lips.

“Oh,” she breathed.

Yunho smiled, pulling back just enough to press kisses along her cheek, her jaw, down her throat. “You’re already so wet, baby.”

Mingi slipped two fingers along her folds, barely dipping in, just teasing. “Fucking soaked.”

Her face flushed crimson, but she couldn’t bring herself to feel shy. Not with the way they were looking at her. Like she was the sun they revolved around. Yunho slipped a hand under her shirt, palming her breast through the thin fabric of her lacy bra. “Can I take this off?”

She nodded breathlessly, and he tugged the shirt over her head, slow and reverent. Her hair tumbled down around her shoulders, and she flushed under their gaze.

“God,” Mingi muttered, eyes roaming over her like he was starved. “You’re so beautiful.”

Yunho unclasped her bra, letting it fall from her shoulders, her nipples hardening from the cold air and then his kisses were everywhere, her collarbone, her chest, her stomach. Mingi moved to her side, brushing her hair from her face before tilting her chin up to kiss her too. It was overwhelming. Perfect. Their mouths and hands exploring her like worship. Mingi’s fingers finally slid inside her, slow but deep, while Yunho sucked gently at one of her nipples, tongue flicking just right.

Her breath hitched, body arching between them.

“You’re doing so well, angel,” Yunho whispered, eyes locked on hers. “So perfect for us.”

Mingi curled his fingers inside her, and she let out a soft moan, grabbing at his wrist. “More, please…”

“Oh, we’ll give you more,” Mingi promised, voice thick and low. “We’re just getting started baby.”

They took turns touching her, teasing her, their mouths moving down her body in tandem—Yunho kissing her neck, leaving marks she would have to cover later, Mingi licking slow stripes along her inner thighs, their touches never overlapping but always in sync.

It felt like a dream. It felt like everything.

When Mingi finally replaced his fingers with his mouth, she cried out softly, one hand in his hair, the other gripping Yunho’s arm. Yunho held her close, kissing her temple, murmuring sweet praises while Mingi worked his tongue slow and deep over her sweet pussy, like he had nowhere else to be. “You taste so sweet baby. So sweet. ”

She came undone like that—shuddering between them, clinging, gasping and moaning their names like prayer.

But they didn’t stop there.

Yunho stood, pulling his shirt off slowly, eyes locked on hers the entire time. His chest was broad, golden in the dim light, muscles taut with restraint. “You want more, baby?” she nodded, eyes wide, dazed with pleasure. “Please…”

They lifted her gently—Yunho scooping her up bridal-style, both of them kissing her softly as they carried her to the bedroom.

Yunho laid her gently on the cool sheets like she was something precious—his hands never leaving her skin. He kissed her again, softer this time, slower, while Mingi knelt beside her on the bed and ran his palm along her stomach, up to cup her breast.

“Still with us, angel?” Yunho murmured against her lips.

She nodded, voice a breathy whisper. “Yeah… please don’t stop.”

Yunho leaned back to take in the sight of her—lips swollen, skin flushed, eyes half-lidded and trusting. His gaze darkened as he tugged off the rest of his clothes, revealing his toned, golden body in full. Her breath caught at the sight of him. Mingi was behind her again, one arm curled under her shoulders as he pressed hot kisses along her neck, dragging his tongue lightly across her pulse point. She whimpered softly, her body instinctively pressing back into him.

“Want you both,” she murmured, “please—”

Yunho knelt between her legs and kissed slowly up the inside of her thigh, his fingers teasing along the sensitive skin where Mingi’s mouth had just been. “We’re right here, baby. Gonna make you feel so good.”

He lined himself up with her slowly, watching her eyes, waiting for the smallest hesitation. But she opened for him like a flower, hand reaching for his wrist to tug him closer. Mingi whispered something into her neck—words like “beautiful,” and “you’re doing so well for us”—and Yunho pressed forward, sliding into her in one long, slow motion.

The moan that escaped her was sinful.

He moved slow at first, drawing out every inch, every gasp. Her hands clutched at his back, her legs wrapped around his waist. Yunho kissed her like he couldn't get enough of the taste of her moans. His rhythm built gradually, patient but deep—rolling his hips just right, pounding in her with a toe-curling force, filling her completely.

Mingi watched, eyes dark and heavy-lidded, his hand brushing her hair from her sweaty forehead. Then he kissed her—soft but filthy, tongue slipping into her mouth like he already knew the rhythm of her breath. His hands traveled down to his painfully hard cock, the sight of his best friend fucking the girl he had the biggest crush on was the biggest turn on. She was theirs, and only theirs. And now they were proving it.

“I love watching you like this,” he whispered, lips brushing hers. “So fucking pretty.”

“More,” she gasped, arching her back between them. “I want—”

Yunho slowed down and looked at Mingi. No words passed, but something shifted—an understanding, a shared current between them.

Mingi leaned in, biting her ear gently. “You want both of us, princess?” His voice was thick with need. “Think you can take it?”

Her pussy clenched around Yunho’s cock at the thought, breath quickening.

Yunho stilled inside her, lowering his mouth to her ear. “We’ll be gentle. You trust us?”

She nodded without hesitation. “I trust you. I want it.”

They took their time preparing her, every touch laced with care. Mingi kissed down her spine while Yunho held her close, whispering reassurances as they coaxed her body open. By the time Mingi pressed against her, his fingers gripping her hips while Yunho kissed her breathless, she was already trembling. The stretch was intense—overwhelming—but she melted into it, gasping as Mingi slid in slowly behind her, his chest pressed to her back.

“Good girl,” Yunho whispered, stroking her hair, hips rocking into her in tandem. “You’re taking us so well.” Mingi’s breath was hot against her shoulder. “You feel like heaven.”

They moved slowly, in sync—deep, filling thrusts that made her toes curl and her head fall back onto Mingi’s shoulder. She was completely surrounded, completely theirs. Their hands were everywhere—trailing down her body, gripping her thighs, holding her steady. She felt full, both of her holes welcoming the boys. Her boys.

Yunho kissed her lips as she moaned, Mingi bit her neck and soothed it with his tongue. The sounds in the room were pure sin—skin against skin, breathy gasps, the occasional curse whispered against her cheek. And when she came again, it was like falling—her body clenching around them, the world dissolving into white-hot pleasure. She cried out their names, hips trembling, overwhelmed.

They didn’t last long after that. Yunho spilled inside her with a low groan, hips stuttering as he buried his face in her neck. Mingi followed moments later, moaning into her shoulder, arms wrapped tight around her waist as he collapsed against her back.

The three of them lay there in a tangled mess—panting, sweaty, warm. No one said anything for a long time.

Eventually, Yunho pulled her into his chest, brushing sweat-soaked hair from her face. “You okay, baby?”

She nodded sleepily, dazed and glowing. “That was… everything.”

Mingi chuckled softly, pulling the blanket over them all. “You’re everything.”

Yunho kissed her forehead, voice rough but gentle. “You’re ours.”

They would be the death of each other.

[planetherk]

BRUISES AND BLOOM

im sorry baby, i love you

choi san x fem!reader

tw: emotional and verbal abuse, manipulation, toxic relationship, gaslighting, this is written in third person. JUST BECAUSE I WRITE ABOUT IT, I DO NOT BELIEVE SAN IS LIKE THAT IN REAL LIFE. he's a sweetheart!!!

wc: 1,3k

They looked like a perfect couple to everyone else.

The soft-spoken girl with eyes full of kindness, always holding a warm smile for strangers and a tender word for the broken. And San—sharp edges wrapped in silk, a man with the kind of presence that filled every room. Handsome, confident, dangerously charming. The kind of man people noticed without even trying. The kind of man that burned when he loved.

No one saw what happened behind closed doors. No one knew how San’s love came with a chokehold.

At first, it had been sweet. Intoxicating, even. He worshipped her. Showed up unannounced with her favorite flowers, held her like she was the only thing grounding him, whispered how he’d never felt this way before. She had never been loved like that—so intensely, so hungrily. He made her feel special. Chosen.

But obsession doesn’t always wear warning signs. The first time he lost his temper, he hadn’t touched her. Not physically. Just words. Sharp and fast and cruel—like knives she didn’t see coming. She had cried, and he had broken down right after, holding her face, kissing away the tears he caused.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know what came over me. I just— I get scared. I love you too much, baby. You don’t understand what you do to me.”

He always said that. You don’t understand. He made her feel like the villain when she tried to walk away. And it started with something small. It always did

She was standing in front of the mirror, smoothing her dress down, adjusting it for the third time. Her makeup was light, her lips glossed, hair done the way she liked it. She looked really beautiful. She always does. San was sitting on the bed, scrolling through his phone. He hadn’t said much when she got ready. But the tension had started creeping in the moment she walked out of the bathroom.

His eyes flicked up. Then down.

“What the fuck are you wearing?” he asked flatly.

She blinked. “What?”

“That dress. Are you serious?”

She laughed awkwardly, thinking he was teasing. “It’s not that short. Come on, I look cute.”

His phone hit the mattress with a dull thud. “You’re not going out like that.”

Now she really looked at him. His jaw was tight. His hand flexed into a fist on the blanket.

“San, it’s just a dinner. All the girls are—”

“I don’t give a shit what your friends are wearing.” He stood up, fast. “You want other guys to look at you? Is that what this is?”

She stepped back. “No! What ar you even talking about? I’ve been planning this for days, I’m not doing anything wrong.”

But he wasn’t hearing her. His voice was rising, breath sharp.

“Don’t play fucking dumb with me! You dress like that and you know what it does. You want attention? You want to go out and flirt while I sit here like an idiot?”

Her heart dropped. “I would never do that to you.”

“You don’t even see it, do you?” he snapped. “You fucking smile at every guy who talks to you. You laugh too much. You touch their arm when you talk—don’t think I don’t notice that shit.”

“That’s not true,” she whispered, but her voice cracked, betraying how much it stung.

San stepped closer, towering. His voice was a low snarl now.

“Take it off.”

When she didn’t move, his hand slammed into the wall beside her with a loud bang. She flinched. Her whole body froze.

“You think this is funny?” he growled. “You wanna play the innocent girl while dressing like a slut?”

That broke her. The tears came fast, hot and silent, slipping down her cheeks before she could stop them. Her lip trembled. She turned away from him, walking toward the bed, blindly reaching for her phone and bag.

“I’m leaving,” she said, voice shaking. “I don’t want to fight with you. I just want to go.”

The second she picked up her phone, it was out of her hand. San had snatched it away and thrown it across the room, where it hit the carpet with a thud.

“No, you’re not fucking going anywhere.”

Her shoulders started shaking. She covered her face with her hands, sinking to the edge of the bed, sobbing now. She couldn’t breathe. Her body felt too small for all the pain crashing through her chest. This wasn’t him. This couldn’t be the same man who kissed her forehead every morning and called her his world.

And just as quickly as it had started, the storm passed. San stood frozen, his breathing uneven as he stared at her.

“…Fuck.”

He dropped to his knees in front of her, his voice suddenly soft. Desperate.

“Baby… baby, no. I didn’t mean that. Please don’t cry.”

She tried to move away, but he caught her wrists gently.

“No, no, no. Look at me.” He kissed her hands. “God, I’m so fucking sorry. I lost it. I— I just get scared, okay? You’re so beautiful and I don’t want anyone else to see you the way I do.”

“You yelled at me,” she whispered, broken.

“I know. I hate myself for it. I’m a fucking idiot. You don’t deserve that.” He climbed onto the bed, arms wrapping around her from behind as she cried. “You’re my sweet girl. My angel. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost you.”

She was still trembling, but she didn’t pull away.

“I just love you too much,” he said, voice muffled in her neck. “It messes with my head. I need you to be mine. Only mine. Is that so wrong?”

She didn’t answer. She was tired. Hurt. Confused.

He pressed a kiss to her damp cheek. “I’ll make it up to you. I’ll do better. You know I’m not like that. Not really.”

And somehow, that was the part that stuck with her. The version of him that whispered apologies, that called her baby and sweetheart and begged her not to leave—that was the man she couldn’t say no to.

He held her all night. She didn’t go to the dinner. Her phone stayed off.

By morning, she told herself it was just a fight. Every couple has one, right?

He kept up with apologies soaked in tears, grand promises to change, and late-night texts that shattered her resolve. “You’re all I have.”, “You promised you wouldn’t leave me.”, “I know I get angry but it’s because I care too much. No one will love you like I do.”

And maybe… he was right. Because she always came back. Even when she swore she wouldn’t. Even when her friends warned her, when the red flags turned into wildfires.

Something about the way he looked at her—like she was his salvation and destruction in one breath—kept pulling her in.

It wasn’t always screaming matches and slammed doors. Sometimes he was soft. Gentle. He’d stroke her hair and whisper, “You’re mine, right?” in that voice that almost made her forget the bruises on her heart.

But jealousy came fast and without warning. A glance, a smile at someone else—anything could set him off. And when he snapped, the room turned cold. His voice, once honeyed, could drip venom. Still, he never laid a hand on her. Never crossed that line.

Just enough to scare her. Just enough to make her doubt herself.

She had tried to leave him two times. Each time, he found a way to crawl back into her life. He knew every weak spot. Every wound. He knew how to twist guilt into romance, how to spin control into protection.

Now, she stood in their shared apartment, clutching her phone in shaking hands after another fight that left her silent and small. Her bag was packed by the door. Her heart? Somewhere between love and fear. But she knew she wouldn’t go anywhere.

Because San loved her too much.

And that was the most dangerous part.

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