jeongchoiii

[jeongchoiii]

Don't wanna say goodbye • Minwon

Words count: 3.6k

Pairing: Mingyu x Wonwoo

Contains: Slight angst, crying, comforts, domestic, aftercare, happy ending.

Smut warnings: top!mingyu, sub!wonwoo, anal sex, anal fingering, riding, slipping into subspace, hand job, spit as lube.

Summary: Wonwoo's enlistment date was announced, and seems like he'll be leaving mingyu for two years.

Wonwoo stepped out of their shared bedroom, his heart heavy with the weight of what he had to say. His eyes immediately found Mingyu, sprawled across the couch with a book in hand, looking so peaceful, so unaware of the storm about to hit.

For a moment, Wonwoo just stood there, watching him, memorizing the way his brows slightly furrowed in concentration, the way his lips parted when he was completely immersed in a story. It was a sight he had always loved, one he had never imagined he’d have to live without.

But now, he had no choice.

“Mingyu,” his voice wavered slightly, softer than he meant it to be.

Mingyu glanced up, eyes brightening at the sight of him, but the happiness quickly faded when he noticed Wonwoo’s expression—his tense shoulders, the faint quiver of his lips, the sadness in his gaze.

“Hyung?” Mingyu tilted his head in confusion, shutting his book and placing it aside, already sensing something was wrong.

Wonwoo didn’t say anything. He simply moved toward him, climbing onto his lap, straddling him like he always did when he needed comfort. Mingyu’s hands immediately found their place on his waist, pulling him close, instinctively protective.

The moment Wonwoo buried his face in the crook of Mingyu’s neck, exhaling shakily against his skin, Mingyu felt his heart drop.

“I don’t want to go,” Wonwoo whispered, voice muffled but heavy with emotion.

Mingyu stiffened beneath him, his grip tightening.

Go?

His mind immediately spiralled.

“Go where?” he asked cautiously, but doubt had already crept in. “Are you leaving me?”

The thought alone made his chest tighten, made his pulse spike with fear. His fingers dug into Wonwoo’s sides, as if holding him in place could stop him from slipping away.

Wonwoo immediately shook his head, pulling back just enough to cup Mingyu’s face between his hands, his thumbs brushing over his cheekbones. “No, never. I could never leave you like that.”

Mingyu let out a shaky breath, relief washing over him—but it was fleeting. Because whatever Wonwoo was about to say, it was still something that hurt.

Wonwoo hesitated, his own eyes glassy as he finally spoke.

“My enlistment date got announced.”

Mingyu froze.

For a moment, he didn’t breathe. Didn’t blink.

It was like the ground beneath him had been ripped away.

The words echoed in his head, but they didn’t feel real.

Wonwoo. His Wonwoo. His person. The one constant in his life. Gone—for two years?

No. No, he couldn’t do this.

His grip on Wonwoo’s waist turned almost desperate, his body stiff beneath him. “When?” he asked, but his voice came out hoarse like he already knew he wouldn’t like the answer.

Wonwoo swallowed hard, his arms tightening around Mingyu’s shoulders as if clinging to him would make this easier. “April third.”

Mingyu felt his world crack.

It was only a week away.

After three days—just three days after Wonwoo would be gone—it would be Mingyu’s birthday.

And instead of waking up to Wonwoo’s teasing kisses, instead of hearing his sleepy voice mumbling Happy birthday, my love as he curled up against him in bed, instead of spending the entire day together, making excuses to keep touching each other—Mingyu would be alone.

Would he come home to an empty apartment? To the cold silence of their shared space, the absence of warmth where Wonwoo should be?

The thought alone made his heart clench painfully.

Mingyu swallowed hard, his voice barely above a whisper. “Can you… not go?” His words were so quiet, so fragile like he already knew the answer but still couldn’t help but ask.

Wonwoo’s face crumpled, his hands moving up to cup Mingyu’s face, his thumbs ghosting over his cheekbones like he was trying to memorize every inch of him. He leaned in, capturing Mingyu’s lips in a kiss—soft, lingering, the kind that felt too much like a goodbye.

But it wasn’t goodbye. Not yet. They still had a week.

When Wonwoo pulled back, his forehead resting against Mingyu’s, his voice was breathless, almost desperate. “Min… make love to me. I just want to be closer to you.”

Mingyu exhaled shakily, his fingers curling into the fabric of Wonwoo’s shirt as if that alone could keep him from slipping away. He kissed Wonwoo’s forehead, then the bridge of his nose, then his lips—each touch slow, deliberate, reverent.

Like he was afraid that, if he wasn’t careful, Wonwoo would break.

Wonwoo let out a quiet sob and buried his face in Mingyu’s shoulder, his fingers fisting the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt as he tried to steady himself. But his body betrayed him, trembling when Mingyu’s lips found that sensitive spot on his neck, the one that always made him shiver.

A gasp left Wonwoo’s lips as Mingyu sucked on the skin, lapping over the mark as if soothing away the slight sting.

“You know I love you, right?” Mingyu murmured, his voice steady but laced with something deeper—something raw.

Wonwoo nodded, his breath shaky. “I know.”

And then he was kissing Mingyu again, desperate and hungry, swallowing every sigh, every whimper, every little sound that left his lips. His hips rolled against Mingyu’s, the friction sending shivers down his spine, but it wasn’t enough—it wasn’t nearly enough.

Mingyu could feel it, could hear it in the quiet whimper that escaped Wonwoo’s lips when the friction wasn’t enough to satisfy him.

Mingyu smiled, a bittersweet tug at the corners of his lips, before whispering, “Get up for a second, love.”

Wonwoo blinked at him through heavy-lidded eyes, dazed and wanting, but let Mingyu help him lift himself from his lap. The moment his feet touched the ground, Mingyu’s hands were on him—hooking his fingers into the waistband of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers until they pooled at his ankles.

Mingyu sat back, his eyes dark as they raked over Wonwoo’s body, drinking at the sight of him. His fingers trailed up the inside of Wonwoo’s thigh, slow, teasing, making the older man shudder beneath his touch.

“You’re beautiful, hyung,” Mingyu murmured as he pulled him back to his lap, his voice dripping with adoration as he wrapped his fingers around Wonwoo’s length, giving it a slow, deliberate stroke.

Wonwoo’s thighs trembled as a moan slipped past his lips, the sound making Mingyu’s grip tighten just slightly, enough to draw another delicious whimper from him. With his free hand, Mingyu reached up, brushing his fingers over Wonwoo’s lips before gently coaxing them open.

“Here,” he whispered. “Suck.”

Wonwoo’s lashes fluttered, his lips parting just enough for Mingyu to push two fingers past them. His tongue curled around them instinctively, wet and warm as he sucked slowly, his eyes already hazy with pleasure.

Mingyu groaned softly at the sight, his grip on Wonwoo tightening as he picked up the pace of his strokes, coaxing breathy gasps and muffled moans from the older man.

“Mingy—ahh,” Wonwoo’s voice broke around Mingyu’s fingers when he tightened his grip just right, his breath growing uneven.

Mingyu pressed a kiss to Wonwoo’s collarbone, his lips trailing down to where his shirt hung off his shoulders, his touch both comforting and possessive. “Want me to slow down, baby?” he murmured, though his strokes never faltered.

Wonwoo shook his head frantically, unable to form words around the fingers in his mouth. His eyes were glossy, his thighs trembling as Mingyu continued, as the pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in his stomach.

Mingyu leaned in, lips brushing against Wonwoo’s ear as he whispered, “Go on, hyung. Let go for me.”

And just like that, Wonwoo shattered.

Wonwoo trembled as the aftershocks of his orgasm coursed through him, his chest heaving, his body flushed and sensitive. His release stained Mingyu’s shirt, but Mingyu didn’t seem to mind—if anything, he looked amused, watching the way Wonwoo shivered in his lap, still wanting more.

“You were so good, love,” Mingyu murmured, his voice thick with affection as he slowly pulled his fingers from Wonwoo’s mouth. His digits glistened, slick with Wonwoo’s spit, and Mingyu wasted no time in spreading his legs slightly, using the space to trail his damp fingers down between Wonwoo’s thighs.

Wonwoo gasped softly, his body jerking when Mingyu’s fingertips grazed his entrance. He buried his face in the crook of Mingyu’s neck, muffling the desperate sound that spilt from his lips as the first thick finger slowly breached him.

"Relax for me, hyung," Mingyu whispered, his other hand stroking Wonwoo’s lower back in soothing circles.

Wonwoo sucked in a shaky breath, but he was impatient—his hips rolled downward, pushing Mingyu’s finger in deeper, desperate for more.

"Mingyu, don’t tease," he pleaded, his voice breathless and strained. His cock, though soft just moments ago, twitched against Mingyu’s stomach, already stirring back to life. "I need more… faster."

Mingyu chuckled, pressing a slow, lingering kiss to Wonwoo’s temple. "So needy," he murmured, slipping a second finger inside and stretching him open. "But I’ll take care of you, I promise."

His tone was soft, but his actions were anything but—his fingers began moving with deliberate precision, curling inside Wonwoo, pressing against his walls in a way that made him gasp and shudder.

"If it’s too much, tell me," Mingyu reminded him, voice laced with care. But he didn’t slow down—he built a steady rhythm, dragging his fingers in and out, pushing deeper each time.

Wonwoo let out a broken moan when Mingyu finally found that spot, his body jolting, his back arching as waves of pleasure rippled through him.

Mingyu smirked, taking full advantage of the reaction, pressing against that same spot again and again until Wonwoo was trembling in his arms.

"You’re taking me so well, baby," he praised, slipping in a third finger as Wonwoo whimpered, his hands gripping Mingyu’s shoulders like a lifeline.

Wonwoo was barely holding on, his body caught between pleasure and the overwhelming stretch. But just when he thought he couldn’t take anymore, Mingyu suddenly withdrew his fingers.

The loss made Wonwoo whine, but his breath hitched when he saw Mingyu bring his fingers to his mouth, slowly sucking them in. His lips wrapped around them, tongue swirling over the digits, coating them in his spit before pulling them out with a wet pop.

Wonwoo’s head spun at how obscene the sight was, his body reacting immediately.

Mingyu chuckled darkly, his slicked fingers teasing Wonwoo’s entrance again, rubbing circles around the sensitive ring of muscle.

"My hyung likes it when I get a little filthy, huh?" Mingyu mused, voice dripping with amusement.

Wonwoo trembled as Mingyu pulled his fingers out, his hole fluttering around nothing, already desperate to be filled again. A choked whimper escaped his lips, his body so wound up that even the emptiness felt unbearable. His thighs quivered as he shifted in Mingyu’s lap, eyes hooded and hazy with need.

Mingyu guided him up onto his knees, steady hands holding his waist as he helped Wonwoo hover over him as he pulled down his pants and boxers. His breath hitched when he saw the way Wonwoo’s face lit up at the sight of his cock, flushed an angry red, thick and veined from arousal. The hunger in Wonwoo’s eyes made Mingyu’s stomach tighten with pure lust.

Wonwoo wasted no time, his small hands wrapping around the base as he pressed the head against his entrance, teasing himself with slow, shallow rolls of his hips. His breath came out in soft, shuddering pants, his body aching for more.

Mingyu just watched, dark eyes trained on every little movement, the way Wonwoo’s lips parted in anticipation, the way his body twitched with need. He let him take control, knowing how much Wonwoo loved to set the pace, loved to have Mingyu watch as he unraveled for him.

“Go on, baby,” Mingyu encouraged, voice husky and dripping with desire. “Take me inside.”

Wonwoo nodded, his movements eager as he began sinking down, the tip barely stretching him before he whined, the burn making him falter. His fingers gripped at Mingyu’s shoulders, his brows knitting together as he tried to take more despite the sting.

“Shit—ah, hurts,” Wonwoo gasped, squeezing his eyes shut. His body wanted more, but the stretch was overwhelming, raw and unprepared.

Mingyu cursed under his breath, guilt twisting in his chest. “Baby, slow down. You’re rushing,” he soothed, hands tightening around Wonwoo’s hips to keep him from forcing himself down too fast. He should’ve prepared him better, should’ve remembered to buy lube when he had the chance.

But Wonwoo was already shaking his head stubbornly. “I can take it, Gyu, I want it,” he whined, trying to push down further, body desperate for the connection.

Mingyu frowned, feeling the shift in Wonwoo’s tone, the way his voice had softened, his words more pleading than demanding. His movements had lost their usual control, and Mingyu realized with a sharp inhale—he was slipping.

Fuck.

Wonwoo was dropping into subspace right in his lap, and Mingyu hadn’t even noticed until now. His body was going limp, his breath coming out in little needy puffs, trusting Mingyu to take care of him, to give him what he needed without him having to ask.

“Shh, baby, you don’t have to rush,” Mingyu murmured, voice low and gentle now as he cradled Wonwoo’s trembling form. He pressed a kiss to his temple, rubbing soothing circles into his skin. “We’ll take it slow, okay? Let me help you.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched, and he finally relaxed just the slightest bit, nodding as he leaned into Mingyu’s warmth. He let Mingyu hold him steady, let him guide his movements, pressing kisses into his damp skin as he slowly helped him adjust.

“There you go, sweetheart,” Mingyu whispered as Wonwoo took him in little by little, the pain giving way to something deeper, something warmer, until he was finally seated fully in Mingyu’s lap.

Mingyu held him close, wrapping his arms around him protectively, letting him settle. “I’ve got you, baby. Just feel me, okay?”

Wonwoo’s fingers curled into the fabric of Mingyu’s shirt, his body completely relaxed now, completely trusting. “Mmh… love you,” he murmured against Mingyu’s shoulder.

Mingyu smiled, pressing a lingering kiss to his cheek. “Love you too, baby. Always.”

Wonwoo’s breath came out in soft, uneven gasps, his body molding perfectly against Mingyu’s as he finally settled, the stretch fading into a deep, intoxicating fullness. His fingers clutched at Mingyu’s shirt, needing the anchor, the solid warmth of him, something to hold onto as his mind drifted in the haze of pleasure and safety.

Mingyu ran his hands up and down Wonwoo’s back, grounding him, keeping him steady. “You’re doing so well, baby,” he murmured, pressing a kiss against Wonwoo’s temple before moving lower, tracing his lips over his cheek, his jaw, down the column of his throat. He let his mouth linger there, letting Wonwoo feel the warmth of his breath, the slow, deliberate care in each kiss.

Wonwoo whimpered softly, shifting in Mingyu’s lap, his body instinctively clenching around him. “Gyu…” he whispered, voice barely above a breath. He wasn’t rushing anymore—just feeling, just existing in the space Mingyu held him in.

Mingyu pulled back slightly, tilting Wonwoo’s chin up so he could look into his dazed, glossy eyes. “Does it feel okay now?” he asked, voice gentle, soothing.

Wonwoo nodded, biting his lip. “Feels good… so good.”

Mingyu exhaled softly, relief washing over him. He let his hands slide down to Wonwoo’s waist, gripping firmly but not forcefully. “Just let me take care of you,” he whispered, rolling his hips up ever so slightly, testing, watching for any sign of discomfort.

Wonwoo’s lips parted in a soft, breathy moan, his lashes fluttering. He melted into Mingyu’s touch, letting himself be moved, letting Mingyu guide the rhythm.

“There you go,” Mingyu murmured, voice thick with adoration. His hips rolled up again, slow, deep, sinking into the warmth of Wonwoo’s body as he let himself fall into the rhythm of them—gentle, unhurried, like he had all the time in the world to worship him.

Wonwoo whimpered, head falling against Mingyu’s shoulder, breath hitching every time Mingyu pushed into him, filling him up so perfectly, so completely. His body was pliant, every movement sending pleasure blooming through his veins, his mind floating in that soft, safe place where only Mingyu existed.

Mingyu kissed the side of his head, his grip firm but comforting. “I’ll remember this,” he murmured against Wonwoo’s skin, his voice filled with something deeper than lust. “Every sound you make, the way you feel… I’ll remember all of it while you’re gone.”

Wonwoo’s throat tightened, something raw and bittersweet clawing at his chest. He didn’t want to think about leaving, didn’t want to imagine sleeping in a cold bed, waking up without Mingyu’s warmth wrapped around him.

He lifted his head, searching for Mingyu’s lips, and when they met, the kiss was slow, unhurried, filled with something desperate yet unspoken. A promise, a plea, a lingering taste of something they refused to say out loud.

Mingyu’s thrusts remained deep and steady, his hands anchoring Wonwoo against him, as if afraid to let him go. “Let me make you feel good,” he whispered. “Let me give you something to hold onto, hyung.”

Wonwoo swallowed back the lump in his throat and nodded, pressing his forehead against Mingyu’s. “Then don’t stop.”

Mingyu’s pace was relentless but controlled, dragging out every sensation as he thrust deep inside Wonwoo. Every time Wonwoo got close, Mingyu would slow down, pressing kisses to his trembling thighs, whispering sweet praises against his sweat-slicked skin.

"Not yet," Mingyu murmured, gripping Wonwoo’s waist firmly to still his desperate movements. "Wanna make you feel good for longer, baby."

Wonwoo whimpered, frustration clear in his voice. His cock throbbed against Mingyu’s stomach, leaking precum, aching for release. He was so sensitive, every brush of Mingyu’s hand or shift of his hips sending shudders down his spine.

"Mingyu—please," Wonwoo gasped, his hands clawing at Mingyu’s shoulders, trying to pull him closer, trying to chase his release.

Mingyu chuckled lowly, pressing his forehead against Wonwoo’s. "You sound so desperate," he teased, kissing him deeply before rolling his hips just right, grinding into Wonwoo’s sweet spot. Wonwoo choked on a moan, body shuddering as his walls fluttered around Mingyu’s cock.

"You're doing so well for me," Mingyu murmured, picking up his pace again. His hand finally wrapped around Wonwoo’s neglected length, stroking him in slow, torturous movements, just enough to make Wonwoo’s breath hitch but not enough to push him over.

"M-Mingyu—!" Wonwoo sobbed, his whole body tensing, so close it hurt. His thighs trembled, his stomach clenched, pleasure coiling unbearably tight inside him. He couldn’t take it anymore. "Please, please—let me cum."

Mingyu groaned at the way Wonwoo begged, his own restraint hanging by a thread. "Then go on, baby—come for me." he whispered against Wonwoo’s lips, his strokes finally matching the desperate pace of his thrusts.

That was all Wonwoo needed. His body seized as his orgasm crashed over him like a tidal wave, his mouth falling open in a silent cry. His release splattered between them, painting Mingyu’s chest as he trembled violently in his arms.

Mingyu cursed at the sight, thrusting through Wonwoo’s aftershocks until he reached his own high, spilling deep inside him with a low, drawn-out moan. He held Wonwoo close, hands gripping his hips as he rode out the pleasure, hips stuttering until he was completely spent.

Wonwoo slumped against Mingyu’s chest, completely boneless, his breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Mingyu pressed soft kisses along his temple, stroking his back as they came down from their high together.

"You did so good for me," Mingyu whispered, his voice thick with warmth. "So perfect."

Wonwoo hummed sleepily against his shoulder, a lazy, satisfied smile curling on his lips.

Mingyu gently pulled out, careful not to overstimulate Wonwoo, and reached for the towel he had left nearby. He wiped them both down with slow, deliberate movements, making sure Wonwoo was comfortable before pulling him into his arms again. Wonwoo was still catching his breath, his body boneless against Mingyu’s chest, letting himself be held.

“You okay, baby?” Mingyu murmured, running his fingers through Wonwoo’s damp hair, pressing a kiss to his temple.

Wonwoo nodded, voice hoarse. “Just… my legs feel like jelly.” He huffed a tired laugh, curling further into Mingyu’s warmth.

Mingyu smiled, rubbing soothing circles into Wonwoo’s back. “That’s ‘cause you never listen when I tell you to slow down.” He teased, pressing another kiss to Wonwoo’s hairline.

Wonwoo pouted but didn’t argue. “Was worth it.”

Mingyu rolled his eyes fondly and scooped Wonwoo up into his arms. “Come on, let’s get you cleaned up properly.”

After a warm shower, where Mingyu took his time washing Wonwoo’s hair and massaging his shoulders, he helped him into one of his oversized shirts and boxers. He guided Wonwoo to sit on the kitchen counter, hands resting on his thighs as he looked up at him.

“You stay right there while I make us something to eat, yeah?” Mingyu said, rubbing his thumbs over the soft skin of Wonwoo’s thighs.

Wonwoo leaned back on his palms, watching as Mingyu tied his hair back and moved toward the fridge. “This is a nice view,” he mused, smirking at the sight of Mingyu’s bare back flexing as he moved.

Mingyu shot him a playful glare. “And yet you’re making me cook while you sit there like a spoiled prince.”

“You like spoiling me,” Wonwoo countered, swinging his legs a little.

Mingyu just sighed dramatically before pulling out ingredients for a quick meal. As he started chopping vegetables, Wonwoo grabbed his phone, scrolling absentmindedly—until his breath suddenly caught in his throat.

Mingyu noticed the shift instantly, turning around with a raised brow. “What’s wrong?”

Wonwoo stared at the screen for a long moment before looking up at Mingyu, eyes wide. “Min… I—I’m not actually enlisting in the military.”

Mingyu blinked. “What?”

Wonwoo turned the phone toward him, the official notice displayed clearly. “It’s a social service position. A desk job. I’ll be working nine to five, which means I won’t be gone for two years. I can still come home to you.”

Mingyu’s knife clattered onto the cutting board as he rushed over, grabbing the phone to read it himself. His eyes scanned the screen, disbelief flashing across his face before it melted into sheer relief.

“Are you serious?” His voice was breathless, almost shaky.

Wonwoo nodded, a grin spreading across his lips. “I get to see you every day.”

Mingyu exhaled sharply before wrapping his arms around Wonwoo’s waist, burying his face in his stomach. “God, I was already preparing myself for hell without you,” he mumbled against the fabric of Wonwoo’s shirt.

Wonwoo laughed softly, his fingers threading through Mingyu’s hair. “Guess you’re stuck with me.”

Mingyu tilted his head up, looking at him with so much love it made Wonwoo’s chest ache. “I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

[jeongchoiii]

︶꒦︶꒷︶︶꒷꒦︶︶︶꒷꒦‧ ₊˚・

The sweatier, the better

cw: nsfw, top!mingyu, bottom!wonwoo, ceo wonwoo, breeding kink, sweat licking, choking kink, secretly watching him through the Surveillance camera, spanking, fingering, rimming, anal sex, degradation kink, semi-public.

summary: Seeing mingyu sweat like crazy itself was a big turn on for wonwoo.

wc: 4k

Wonwoo exhaled a long, weary sigh as he pushed his chair back slightly, giving his cramped legs a moment of relief from the uncomfortable space beneath his desk. He leaned his head back against the leather of his chair, eyes slipping shut for just a second as exhaustion settled deep in his bones.

His body ached from hours of sitting, poring over documents that blurred together the longer he stared at them. The weight of responsibility pressed down on him, suffocating, but even now, his mind wandered far from the work at hand.

A tired smile ghosted across his lips as a thought flickered through his head—what if he just stopped? What if he handed everything over, left behind the chaos, and chose something simpler, something softer? What if he let Mingyu take over and spent his days as a house-husband instead? The thought was ridiculous, laughable even, but it had been creeping into his mind more often than he’d like to admit.

He imagined lazy mornings, cooking breakfast in nothing but a loose shirt while Mingyu wrapped his arms around him from behind, pressing warm kisses to his neck. He imagined kids—ones they could adopt, ones who’d run through the halls of their home, filling it with laughter instead of the cold silence that greeted him every time Mingyu wasn’t around.

He wasn’t great with kids, not yet. But he figured he could learn. Watching his employees bring their children to the office only made the longing worse. He could still picture their bright smiles, the way they giggled whenever he handed them ice cream or snacks during lunch outings with Mingyu. Mingyu adored kids. That much was obvious from the way his face lit up, the way he always crouched down to their level, letting them tug at his sleeves and babble excitedly while he listened with that same affectionate smile.

Wonwoo had caught himself staring too many times—watching Mingyu play with them, watching the sheer joy in his eyes, and zoning out so completely that he hadn’t even noticed when someone had been calling his name. He’d only snapped out of it when Mingyu turned to him, amusement clear in his expression, as if he knew exactly what had just happened. And he did. Of course, he did.

Fuck. He missed him.

A groan left Wonwoo’s lips as he rolled his shoulders, trying to shake off the ache in his muscles. He had told Mingyu not to come to his office unless it was important, insisting that he had too much work to finish before the afternoon. He hadn’t expected the guilt to creep in afterwards, especially when Mingyu had looked at him like a kicked puppy before reluctantly nodding and leaving.

But he had no choice. Mingyu was a distraction. A dangerous one.

It didn’t matter how much he tried to focus—everything about Mingyu pulled him away. The way he moved, the way his lips curled up in that lazy smirk, the way his deep voice sank into Wonwoo’s skin like a slow burn. Even his mere presence in the same room made it impossible to think of anything else. Mingyu was intoxicating, consuming, and overwhelming.

And the worst part?

Wonwoo knew exactly where his mind would go the second Mingyu stepped through that door. His work would be abandoned, forgotten, as he pushed his chair back just enough to drop to his knees in front of him. He could already picture it—the way Mingyu would tilt his head in amusement, watching him with that knowing look, the way his large hands would cup Wonwoo’s face, tracing his jaw with his thumb.

And then he’d fall apart for him.

Just like always. Just like he always wanted to.

Wonwoo glanced at his watch, eyes narrowing as the numbers glowed back at him—5:06 PM. He let out a quiet sigh, running a hand through his hair in frustration. His day had been long, tedious, filled with endless paperwork and decisions that drained the life out of him. But then a thought crept into his mind.

A slow smirk curled at the corner of Wonwoo’s lips. If he had to guess, Mingyu was probably at the company gym right now, pushing himself to exhaustion like he always did. The very image sent a slow heat curling in his stomach—one that had no place in his office, a space meant strictly for work.

But work was the last thing on his mind as he pictured Mingyu, muscles flexing under the strain of heavy weights, his tank top clinging to his body, drenched in sweat. His broad chest rising and falling with every breath, those strong hands gripping the barbell, veins prominent from the pressure.

Wonwoo swallowed hard. Fuck. He loved seeing Mingyu sweat. Loved it too much. And the bastard knew it, too.

A sudden thought flickered through his mind, one he didn’t bother pushing away. He had cameras in the gym. He had them installed for security purposes—at least, that’s what he told himself at the time. But now, it served a much better purpose.

With a few quick clicks, the live feed of the company gym popped onto his screen, and Wonwoo’s eyes locked onto Mingyu instantly. There he was. Stretched out on the bench press, gripping the heavy barbell above him, his face scrunching in concentration as he lifted the weight effortlessly. His golden skin gleamed under the fluorescent lighting, beads of sweat trailing down the curve of his neck, disappearing beneath his shirt. Wonwoo wanted to lick them off.

Mingyu did a few more reps before sitting up, breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling in deep, controlled breaths. Wonwoo had never envied air more in his life. His own breath hitched when Mingyu ran a hand through his damp hair, slicking it back with ease. He looked fucking good like this—raw, unfiltered, completely in his element.

Then, Mingyu moved.

Wonwoo’s gaze followed as Mingyu reached for his gym bag, pulling out his phone and unlocking it with ease. The angle of the camera wasn’t perfect—he couldn’t see what Mingyu was checking. Wonwoo frowned, switching to another camera, but Mingyu’s broad back blocked the view entirely.

That irritated him. What the hell was he looking at? And more importantly, why the fuck was he smirking like that?

That smirk—cocky, teasing, dangerous.

It made something burn in Wonwoo’s chest. That look belonged to him. Only him. So what the fuck was Mingyu looking at that had him smirking like that?

Then, Mingyu lifted his gaze directly to the camera.

Wonwoo’s heart nearly stopped.

His blood ran hot as Mingyu’s smirk widened, his sharp eyes filled with amusement. That bastard. It took Wonwoo a second too long to realize what had happened, but when he did, his body went rigid.

Mingyu’s phone—it was horizontal.

Wonwoo’s breath stilled. Mingyu had access to the security cameras too.

And there was one right behind Wonwoo, showing exactly what he was watching on his screen.

The realization hit him like a freight train.

Mingyu knew.

Wonwoo’s stomach twisted as he watched Mingyu let out a low, knowing chuckle.

This was dangerous.

Wonwoo knew it the second he got up from his chair. He shouldn’t be doing this. Not here. Not now. But logic meant nothing when Mingyu had curled two fingers at him through the camera, his eyes dark with challenge.

His stomach tightened at the thought alone. Fuck.

He didn’t hesitate. His feet moved before reason could catch up, leading him straight to the gym. On the way, he nearly collided with Seungcheol, who raised an eyebrow at his urgency.

"Hyung," Wonwoo said, barely slowing down, "don’t let anyone inside for a while."

Seungcheol’s gaze flickered to the gym doors before snapping back to Wonwoo, the corners of his mouth quirking up into a knowing smirk. That kind of smirk.

"Oh?" Seungcheol drawled, arms crossing over his chest. "I see. Well, just don’t wreck the place. And if you do, tell Mingyu to be the one to clean up the mess—or I swear, I’ll kill you both."

Heat crawled up Wonwoo’s neck. Fuck. Of course, Seungcheol would catch on immediately. He always did.

"Shut up," Wonwoo muttered, straightening his posture as if that would make him seem more composed. It didn’t. "I’m still your boss."

Seungcheol snorted, his amusement clear. "Sure you are." He clapped Wonwoo on the shoulder before stepping aside, waving him off like this was just another typical day.

Ignoring him, Wonwoo slipped into the gym.

Empty.

His brows furrowed. Where the hell was everyone?

Mingyu stood near the weights, casually wiping his sweat-drenched skin with a towel, his eyes already on Wonwoo. He looked even worse than before—or better. Hair damp, tank top clinging obscenely to his chest, his sweat-soaked skin gleaming under the dim lighting.

Wonwoo swallowed hard.

Mingyu smirked. "Had to clear the place out," he said smoothly, tossing the towel aside. "Told them everything at the cafeteria would be on me if they left right now."

Wonwoo let out a dry chuckle. "Of course, you did."

"Wouldn’t want any distractions." Mingyu’s voice dropped a little lower, a little rougher, his eyes trailing down Wonwoo’s body. "Come here."

Wonwoo obeyed before he could think twice.

Mingyu’s arm wrapped around his waist in an instant, yanking him closer until their bodies were flush against each other. Wonwoo could feel the heat radiating off him.

Mingyu leaned in, his breath teasing against Wonwoo’s ear. "Enjoyed the little show, didn’t you?" he murmured, his voice dripping with amusement before dragging his tongue along the shell of Wonwoo’s ear.

A shudder tore through Wonwoo’s body, his fingers instinctively clutching at Mingyu’s tank top, feeling the damp heat of his skin underneath.

"You..." Wonwoo barely managed to get the words out, his breathing uneven. "You looked good."

Mingyu hummed in satisfaction, his lips brushing against the sharp line of Wonwoo’s jaw.

"Go on then," he whispered, the smirk evident in his tone. "I know exactly what you thought about the second you saw me like this."

Wonwoo’s pulse thrummed wildly.

"Min—"

"Do it."

Fuck.

Wonwoo pushed Mingyu down onto the bench without hesitation, his body moving on instinct. Straddling his hips, he settled over him, legs bracketing his thighs.

Mingyu looked beyond pleased, his hands settling naturally around Wonwoo’s waist. Like he knew this was going to happen the moment he looked at the camera.

Wonwoo rolled his hips forward, slow and deliberate, a quiet curse slipping past his lips at the friction. Mingyu’s head tipped back slightly, his grip tightening.

Wonwoo smirked. Good.

Leaning down, he dragged his tongue over Mingyu’s throat, tasting the salt of his sweat.

Mingyu groaned, low and unrestrained, his fingers digging into Wonwoo’s hips.

Wonwoo did it again, this time lower, his breath hot against Mingyu’s skin.

Mingyu’s breath hitched. "That desperate for a taste?"

Wonwoo only hummed in response, pressing his tongue flat against his pulse point before closing his lips around it. And fuck, the sound Mingyu made at that—

Addicting. So fucking addicting.

This wasn’t what Wonwoo had planned—but fuck, it was exactly what he needed.

Every slow grind of his hips sent pleasure curling in his stomach, but it still wasn’t enough. He needed more. More pressure, more friction, more of Mingyu.

Frustration prickled at his skin as he tried to move faster, rougher, but the angle wasn’t right. He was chasing something just out of reach, something he knew Mingyu could give him if he just—

Slap.

Wonwoo groaned, his breath catching as Mingyu’s palm landed sharply on his ass. His hips stuttered, pleasure and irritation clashing as he snapped his head up, glaring at the man beneath him.

Mingyu just grinned, cocky, amused, unbothered.

"My poor baby," he murmured, dragging his fingers up Wonwoo’s spine. "So desperate, but you don’t even know how to get yourself off properly, do you?"

Wonwoo scowled, opening his mouth to bite back— but Mingyu was faster, catching his chin between his fingers and pulling him closer.

"You want help?" Mingyu asked, voice smooth, dark. "Say it properly, baby. Tell me what you need."

Wonwoo trembled, his cock throbbing painfully in his pants.

"Mingyu, I—" His voice wavered, heat crawling up his neck as he struggled to say it.

Mingyu tilted his head, waiting, patient. "What was that?"

Wonwoo swallowed, fingers digging into Mingyu’s shoulders. "I want—"

"Yeah?" Mingyu’s thumb brushed over his lips. "Go on, say it, sweetheart."

Wonwoo’s breath hitched. And then—

"Breed me."

For a second, everything stilled.

Mingyu’s grip on his waist tightened, his pupils blown wide.

And then—

Wonwoo was on his back.

He gasped as Mingyu flipped him, shoved him down onto the yoga mat, hands already yanking at his slacks, tugging them down his legs.

"Fuck, Wonwoo." Mingyu’s voice was rough, almost ragged, his hands moving like he was starving. Like the thought of Wonwoo being covered was something he couldn’t tolerate any longer.

Wonwoo barely had time to react before Mingyu was ripping his shirt open, shoving it aside, his mouth already ghosting over his skin.

"God, you drive me insane," Mingyu groaned, his hands gripping Wonwoo’s thighs, pushing them up, pinning him open.

"Please," Wonwoo whimpered, his fingers curling against Mingyu’s shoulders.

Mingyu smirked, lifting one hand—

Slap.

Wonwoo gasped, arching, moaning, pleasure crackling through him as Mingyu’s palm landed firm against his ass.

"You’re such a fucking brat," Mingyu growled, his voice thick with dominance. "Sent me out of your office, made me stay away from you all morning, and now you’re here, begging me to breed you?"

Wonwoo shivered, his body betraying him, his hole clenching around nothing.

Mingyu smirked, dragging his nails down Wonwoo’s thigh.

"You couldn’t help yourself, could you?" he murmured, leaning in, his lips brushing against Wonwoo’s ear. "Sat there watching me sweat, watching me work, got so fucking hard you had to come running down here like a needy little thing—"

Wonwoo moaned, shivering beneath him.

"You should’ve just said so, baby," Mingyu chuckled, his fingers tightening around Wonwoo’s waist.

"I would’ve fucked you sooner."

Mingyu’s palm landed against Wonwoo’s ass again, the sharp smack echoing in the empty gym, making Wonwoo gasp before his breath turned into a needy moan.

"Mingyu—fuck." His voice was wrecked, his body shuddering with anticipation.

Mingyu didn’t bother responding. Instead, he leaned down, parting Wonwoo’s cheeks, his breath hot against the slick, clenching hole.

And then—his tongue.

Wonwoo arched off the mat, a choked-out moan spilling from his lips as Mingyu swirled his tongue around his rim.

"Fuck—"

Mingyu spat on him, the wetness mixing with the heat of his mouth, before pressing the tip of his tongue inside.

Wonwoo’s hands shot down, gripping Mingyu’s hair, his thighs trembling.

Mingyu chuckled against him, the vibration making Wonwoo’s body jolt in pleasure.

"Shh, baby," Mingyu cooed, moving one hand to clamp over Wonwoo’s mouth. "Don’t want your employees knowing their CEO is getting fucked open like a needy little thing, do you?"

Wonwoo whimpered, his muffled moans growing more desperate as Mingyu pushed his tongue in deeper, fucking into him with slow, deliberate strokes.

Mingyu groaned against him. God, Wonwoo tasted so fucking good.

His free hand slipped between Wonwoo’s legs, two fingers pushing in alongside his tongue, stretching him open.

Wonwoo cried out into Mingyu’s palm, his back arching beautifully, his fingers digging into Mingyu’s wrist.

"Hmm, so tight, baby," Mingyu murmured, his lips brushing against sensitive skin.

Wonwoo tried to grind back against his mouth, chasing the pleasure, but—

Slap.

Mingyu’s hand came down harder this time, leaving a sting that had Wonwoo gasping.

"Don’t move." Mingyu’s voice was dark, commanding, his lips glistening with spit and arousal as he pulled back just enough to meet Wonwoo’s teary gaze.

Wonwoo’s thighs trembled, his body aching for more, but he nodded desperately.

Mingyu smirked, pleased, and just as Wonwoo felt himself teetering on the edge, ready to fall apart—

Mingyu pulled away.

"No, no—" Wonwoo sobbed, his hole fluttering around nothing, his cock leaking onto his stomach.

Mingyu tutted, dragging his wet fingers down Wonwoo’s thigh.

"You don’t get to cum so easily," he mused, watching the way Wonwoo squirmed, helpless beneath him.

"Not when you spent the whole day pushing me away, only to come running down here, begging to be bred like a bitch in heat."

Wonwoo whimpered, his body betraying him, his cock leaking even more.

Mingyu smirked. "Oh? You like that? You like being called a needy little slut?"

Wonwoo’s moans were high and desperate, his chest heaving as Mingyu leaned in, his tongue latching onto one of his nipples, sucking it into his mouth.

"Please, Mingyu—" Wonwoo whined, struggling to form words. "Can’t—please, just—fuck me, breed me, anything."

Mingyu groaned, his patience snapping.

He yanked his tank top over his head, and Wonwoo immediately grabbed it, bringing it to his nose, inhaling deeply.

The mix of Mingyu’s sweat and his cologne had him shuddering, moaning low in his throat.

Mingyu’s cock twitched at the sight. "Fuck, baby. You’re so filthy."

Wonwoo didn’t even care, his eyes blown wide with need as he watched Mingyu push his pants and boxers down, his thick cock springing free.

Mingyu spat into his palm, rubbing it over his length before pressing the swollen tip against Wonwoo’s hole.

Wonwoo whimpered, pressing Mingyu’s shirt closer to his face as he felt the thick head teasing him, rubbing against his entrance.

Mingyu smirked, watching him fall apart.

"You’re ready for me, yeah?"

Wonwoo nodded frantically, his body thrumming with anticipation.

Mingyu pushed in slowly, stretching him open inch by inch.

Wonwoo gasped, his brows furrowing, his legs trembling as he took every inch, his body adjusting to the thick intrusion.

Mingyu groaned, his fingers digging into Wonwoo’s thighs.

"Fuck," he murmured, watching the way Wonwoo swallowed him so perfectly.

"So fucking big," Wonwoo gasped, his eyes squeezing shut, his lips parting around a moan.

Mingyu chuckled, thrusting in just a little deeper.

"You can take it, baby," he whispered, his hands gripping Wonwoo’s waist, holding him still.

"Be good for me."

Mingyu held him down, his grip firm around Wonwoo’s throat, watching the way his body trembled beneath him.

"You’re taking me so fucking well, baby," Mingyu groaned, rolling his hips, grinding deep before pulling back and slamming back in.

Wonwoo cried out, his nails digging into Mingyu’s arm, his body arching with every rough thrust.

Mingyu's pace only grew harsh, his cock hitting deep, his grip tightening just enough to make Wonwoo lightheaded, his eyes fluttering.

"Fuck—look at you," Mingyu growled, watching the way Wonwoo’s body rocked against the mat, completely at his mercy.

Wonwoo’s mind was a haze of pleasure, his walls clenching around Mingyu so tightly it nearly made him dizzy.

Mingyu leaned in, licking a stripe up Wonwoo’s sweaty chest before biting down on his shoulder.

"You wanted to be bred, huh?" Mingyu’s voice was a rough whisper against his skin. "Wanted me to fuck you full, make sure everyone knows who you belong to?"

Wonwoo moaned loudly, his legs trembling as he tried to wrap them around Mingyu’s waist, pulling him closer.

"Yes—**fuck, yes—**Mingyu, please—fill me up, make me yours," Wonwoo babbled, his mind too lost in pleasure to form anything coherent.

Mingyu groaned, his thrusts growing erratic, deeper, harder.

"Fuck, Wonwoo—you’re gonna take it all, yeah?"

Wonwoo nodded frantically, his body tightening around Mingyu, his cock leaking between them, untouched.

Mingyu gripped his thighs, pushing his legs up higher, angling himself to hit deeper, the sound of skin slapping against skin echoing through the gym.

"Shit—" Mingyu’s breath stuttered, his grip on Wonwoo’s hips tightening as his thrusts turned desperate.

Wonwoo felt himself spiraling, the pleasure consuming him, pushing him right to the edge.

Mingyu leaned in, pressing his forehead against Wonwoo’s, his breath hot against his lips.

"Cum for me, baby," he whispered, his voice wrecked, desperate.

Wonwoo let go, his body shuddering as his orgasm hit, his cum splattering between them, his walls clenching so tight around Mingyu it nearly made him see stars.

Mingyu groaned loudly, his hips stuttering as he thrust in one last time, burying himself deep, spilling inside Wonwoo with a deep, guttural moan.

His body trembled as he pumped every last drop inside, grinding against Wonwoo to push it deeper.

Wonwoo moaned at the sensation, his hands clutching at Mingyu’s back, his body twitching from the aftershocks.

Mingyu stayed inside for a moment, catching his breath, before slowly pulling out, watching as his cum dripped out of Wonwoo’s fucked-out hole.

"Shit—" Mingyu murmured, grinning down at the mess they made.

Wonwoo's breath was still uneven, his body trembling slightly from the aftershocks, but as he felt Mingyu’s warmth still surrounding him, something inside him ached. His fingers traced lightly over Mingyu’s chest, his mind wandering somewhere else.

Mingyu noticed the shift immediately. "Baby?" he murmured, pressing a soft kiss to Wonwoo’s temple. "What’s wrong?"

Wonwoo stayed quiet for a moment, swallowing down the sudden lump in his throat. He didn’t even know why it hit him right now—maybe it was the overwhelming closeness, the way Mingyu filled him so completely, made him feel like he belonged to him in every possible way. Maybe it was just exhaustion creeping in, or maybe it was something he'd been holding in for too long.

"I wish I could have your kids," Wonwoo whispered, his voice barely above a breath, but the weight of his words was heavy.

Mingyu froze for a second, his heart clenching at the raw emotion in Wonwoo’s tone. He pulled back just enough to look at him, eyes scanning his face. "Wonwoo…"

Wonwoo shook his head quickly, trying to laugh it off, but the slight crack in his voice betrayed him. "I know it’s stupid. I just—sometimes, I think about it. About how much I love you. About how much I want something that’s… ours."

Mingyu's chest tightened, guilt washing over him because he hated seeing Wonwoo like this—so vulnerable, so lost in something he couldn’t change.

"Hey," Mingyu murmured, cupping Wonwoo’s cheek and forcing him to look at him. "It’s not stupid. Not even a little bit."

Wonwoo’s lips trembled slightly, but he refused to let himself break down. He just let out a shaky exhale, leaning into Mingyu’s touch. "It’s just—when I see you with kids, I know you’d be such a great dad. And I hate that I can’t—"

Mingyu cut him off with a deep kiss, slow and lingering, as if trying to pour every bit of love he had into it. When he pulled away, he rested their foreheads together, his thumb stroking the damp skin of Wonwoo’s cheek.

"Who says we can’t have kids?" Mingyu said softly. "We can adopt. We can find the right kid, give them a home, love them like they’re our own."

Wonwoo’s breath hitched slightly. "You’d really want that?"

Mingyu smiled, pressing another kiss to the corner of his lips. "I want everything with you, Wonwoo. If you want kids, we’ll have kids. I don’t care how it happens—we’ll make it work."

Wonwoo let out a shaky laugh, his eyes stinging again, but this time for an entirely different reason. "You always know what to say."

Mingyu smirked, pulling him even closer, their bodies still tangled together. "That’s because I know you. And because I love you."

Wonwoo sighed, his body relaxing as he buried his face in Mingyu’s neck, breathing him in. "I love you too," he whispered, his voice steady now, filled with something softer. Something certain.

Mingyu just held him, letting the moment settle between them, warmth filling the space where sadness had been just moments ago.

[jeongchoiii]

His Ex

cw: 6.2k wc: nsfw, top!mingyu, bottom!wonwoo, m/m, cheating, thigh-fucking, blow-jobs, possessive, riding, degradation kink, spit-roast, raw penetrating, getting back with his ex, second chance. Summary: Wonwoo's legs took him straight to his ex's place after he found his boyfriend cheating on him.

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Wonwoo slammed the door shut behind him, his breath ragged as he stepped out into the night, the cold air hitting his tear-streaked face. He didn’t bother wiping them away. What was the point? His chest felt hollow, yet somehow unbearably heavy, the weight of betrayal pressing down on him with every step he took.

His mind kept replaying the image—his boyfriend, the man he had trusted, tangled in bed with someone else. The sheets, the ones Wonwoo had picked out, wrapped around their bare bodies, the scent of their betrayal still lingering in the air. The woman had gasped, scrambling to cover herself, but Wonwoo hadn’t even looked at her. His eyes had stayed locked on the man he had once loved, searching for an explanation he already knew wouldn’t matter.

He had walked out without a word, leaving behind the broken pieces of something he thought had been real. His hands balled into fists inside his pockets, nails digging into his palms as he kept his head down. It didn’t matter that people might see him crying—he didn’t care. Let them look. Let them witness what it looked like to have your heart shattered so cruelly. If anything, it would be a warning—don’t trust too easily, don’t love too blindly. Because in the end, you’re the only one left to pick up the pieces.

His feet carried him forward aimlessly, but when he finally looked up, he realized where he had ended up. His steps faltered slightly as his eyes landed on the familiar black gate in front of him. A house he once knew too well. A place that had been his escape, his comfort, the only place where he had felt truly understood. Nostalgia hit him like a wave, overwhelming and sudden, making his throat tighten. He hadn’t been here in so long, yet standing before it now, it felt as if no time had passed at all.

Just as he was about to turn and leave, to push the memories aside and bury them along with everything else, the gate suddenly creaked open. And there, standing in the dim glow of the porch light, was the one person he never expected to see again.

"What are you doing here, hyung?" The voice was familiar—too familiar. It had been two years since he had last heard it, yet it still had the same effect, making something in Wonwoo’s chest tighten. His gaze lifted slowly, taking in the man standing in front of him. The way his brows furrowed in concern, the way his hair still fell the same way as before, slightly tousled as if he had just run his hands through it. The same sharp features, the same deep eyes that once held so much warmth for him. Mingyu hadn’t changed at all. And that made it worse.

Wonwoo had expected—no, hoped—that seeing him again wouldn’t shake him. That the years apart had dulled whatever remnants of feelings still lingered between them. But looking at him now, with the dim light from the porch casting shadows over his face, it was like no time had passed at all. Except, it had. And Wonwoo had been the one to leave.

He hesitated, unsure how to answer, but Mingyu’s voice broke through his thoughts again, firmer this time. "Wonwoo, I asked you something." The tone was familiar too—the same authoritative voice he used whenever he didn’t get what he wanted. Of course, he hadn’t changed in that way either.

"Nothing," Wonwoo muttered, suddenly aware of how awkward he felt. "I was just walking back home." His voice lacked conviction, and from the way Mingyu raised a brow, he knew the younger wasn’t buying it.

"We both know that’s not true. Your house is in the opposite direction." Mingyu leaned against the gate, arms crossed as he studied Wonwoo carefully. The scrutiny made Wonwoo shift uncomfortably, fingers fidgeting with the hem of his shirt as he lowered his gaze to Mingyu’s shoes. He didn’t want to meet his eyes, not when his own were already welling up again.

"Are you crying?" Mingyu’s voice softened, the concern returning so naturally that it made Wonwoo’s throat tighten even more. Of course, he would notice. After all, Mingyu had been the only person who had ever known him that well. The only person who had once memorized every little shift in his expression, who could tell exactly when he was about to break down even before he did.

Mingyu took a small step forward, his hand lifting instinctively—like he was about to reach out, to touch him, to comfort him the way he used to. But then he hesitated. His fingers curled slightly before he let his hand drop back to his side. He must have realized it too—realized that he wasn’t the one Wonwoo would want comfort from anymore. Maybe he never would be again.

"Hyung, come inside. I made too much food, and I don’t plan on eating alone." Mingyu’s voice was steady, lacking its usual playfulness, yet there was something gentle in the way he said it. He wasn’t pushing, wasn’t demanding an explanation for why Wonwoo was standing outside his house looking like he had just been ripped apart. Instead, he was offering something familiar—comfort in the form of food, warmth, and a place to sit where he didn’t have to pretend he was okay.

Wonwoo blinked rapidly, as if that could stop the tears threatening to spill again. He forced himself to meet Mingyu’s gaze, offering a small, barely-there smile. "No, it’s fine. I should go. You were probably heading somewhere," he muttered, stepping back instinctively. They were too close, and he was too raw. His body felt strange—too warm, too aware of Mingyu in a way he shouldn’t be. He had just walked in on his boyfriend cheating on him, and yet, here he was, standing in front of the person he had once loved, feeling something twisted and unfamiliar. His stomach churned at the realization. He shouldn’t be reacting like this.

Mingyu exhaled, shaking his head. "I was just going to grab some alcohol, but since you’re here looking like you’re seconds away from breaking down, I guess I can live without it for tonight." His voice had softened, but his grip was firm when he reached out, fingers wrapping around Wonwoo’s wrist. It wasn’t forceful, just steady, a quiet reminder that he wasn’t letting him run away. "Come inside. Eat something."

Wonwoo tensed under his touch. He should pull away. He should refuse. But he didn’t. Mingyu knew him too well, knew that if Wonwoo truly didn’t want this, he would have fought harder. Instead, he let himself be pulled forward, feet moving without thought.

"I want to go home," he murmured, almost whining. He didn’t know why he was acting like this, why his voice came out softer than he intended. He never acted like this with Jeongin—his now ex-boyfriend. Maybe it was because Mingyu had always been different. Maybe it was because Mingyu had been home once. And maybe, despite everything, a part of Wonwoo still remembered that.

"Come in for now, hyung." Mingyu’s voice was steady, but his grip on Wonwoo’s wrist lingered, warm and firm, as he pulled him inside before shutting the door behind them. The familiar scent hit Wonwoo instantly—the same cologne, the same mix of something uniquely Mingyu. It was comforting in a way that made his chest tighten, made him ashamed of how much he still reacted to it. It was strong but never overwhelming, masculine yet soothing. The kind of scent that once made him feel safe, and now… now it just left him conflicted.

"Go sit down, I’ll bring some food." Mingyu’s tone was casual, as if this was just any other night, as if years hadn’t passed between them. Without waiting for a response, he disappeared into the kitchen, leaving Wonwoo standing awkwardly in the living room.

Letting out a quiet sigh, Wonwoo finally moved, sinking onto the large brown couch. It wasn’t there before—something new. His eyes scanned the room, taking in the familiar and the unfamiliar. Most things were the same, but there were small changes. A different rug, a few new decorations. But what hadn’t changed was the feeling of the space. It still carried Mingyu’s warmth, still felt like a place he could sink into.

And the scent. God, the scent. It wrapped around him, made him want to curl up on the couch and just let exhaustion take over. He hadn’t realized how drained he was until now. His body felt heavy, his mind sluggish.

"Sleep if you want to."

Wonwoo blinked, looking up to find Mingyu watching him, a small knowing smile on his lips as he set the food down on the table. Wonwoo didn’t even realize he had closed his eyes for a second. He swallowed, shifting on the couch, unsettled by how easily Mingyu could still read him, how effortlessly he knew what he needed without a single word spoken.

Some things really hadn’t changed at all.

"I'm not sleepy," Wonwoo muttered, the lie barely convincing even to himself.

Mingyu didn’t even pretend to believe him. "Right. And I’m the president of the country," he deadpanned, settling onto the couch opposite Wonwoo. His legs spread lazily, his entire posture dripping with ease, like they weren’t sitting in the thick, awkward air of an unresolved past.

Wonwoo should’ve left the moment he stepped inside. He knew that. Every instinct in his body screamed at him to get up, make an excuse, and walk out before he let himself get too comfortable in a place that was no longer his. But he didn’t move. He didn’t even question why.

Maybe, just for tonight, he didn’t want to be alone. Maybe having Mingyu’s presence there—his warmth, his familiarity—was something he needed more than he wanted to admit.

That didn’t mean anything. It wouldn’t change anything.

The moment he stepped out of this house, he’d act like nothing had happened, like he hadn’t sat here eating food that reminded him too much of how things used to be. He wouldn’t come back. He wouldn’t let his feet lead him here mindlessly again. He’d move on.

Wonwoo cleared his throat, trying to distract himself from his own thoughts, but the second his gaze flickered toward Mingyu again, he regretted it.

Mingyu was watching him with amusement, legs still spread in that effortless, irritating confidence, one arm slung over the couch like he had all the time in the world. And when Wonwoo's eyes caught where they shouldn’t—just a little too low—Mingyu smirked.

Shit.

Wonwoo whipped his head away so fast it almost hurt, shoving a spoonful of rice into his mouth to hide his reaction. He ignored the way Mingyu’s eyes practically gleamed with mischief, the way his lips quirked up like he knew exactly what was running through Wonwoo’s head.

Embarrassing.

Focusing on the food was easier. It wasn’t anything extravagant, just a simple meal—rice, kimchi, and side dishes that looked way too familiar.

Wonwoo hesitated after the first bite.

It tasted… better. Way better than he remembered. The flavors were richer, the seasoning just right. His favorite side dishes, cooked exactly the way he liked them.

Mingyu had never been bad at cooking, but this? This was different.

Had he gotten better, or was it just the fact that it had been years since Wonwoo had tasted something made by him?

"So," Mingyu said suddenly, breaking the silence. His voice was even, but there was something sharp beneath it. "How’s your boyfriend?"

Wonwoo froze for half a second before forcing himself to keep chewing, pretending that question hadn’t just sunk into his chest like a blade.

He didn’t look up. He didn’t want to see the expression Mingyu was making.

And Mingyu, as always, noticed.

"You guys broke up, didn’t you?" Mingyu’s voice cut through the silence, low and laced with something that almost sounded like amusement.

Wonwoo stiffened. His fingers clenched slightly around the fabric of his hoodie, but he didn’t respond. He couldn’t. The words felt like salt rubbed into an open wound, a confirmation of the pain he was trying so desperately to swallow down.

No. He wouldn’t cry. Not here. Not in front of Mingyu.

But his body betrayed him.

Silent tears welled up again, slipping past his lashes before he could stop them. He turned his face away quickly, hurriedly dragging his sleeve over his cheeks in a desperate attempt to erase the evidence.

It was useless. He could feel Mingyu’s eyes on him, watching every little tremble of his shoulders, every shaky breath he tried to conceal.

He must look pathetic. A broken man sitting in his ex’s house, crying like a fool over someone who had never deserved his love in the first place. And the worst part? Mingyu was probably enjoying it. Probably relishing in the sight of him unraveling.

Only… if that were true, then why was his voice suddenly so different?

"Get up," Mingyu said, his tone dropping into something deeper, something firm and commanding. It was a voice Wonwoo had heard before, but never directed at him like this. "Come here."

He hesitated, lifting his eyes to meet Mingyu’s. There was no mockery there. No cruel smirk. Just something dark and unreadable, something that made his stomach twist in a way that wasn’t entirely unpleasant.

And for whatever reason—whether it was habit, instinct, or just exhaustion—Wonwoo obeyed.

Slowly, he pushed himself up from the couch, his legs feeling heavier than they should. He stood in front of Mingyu, his hands still curled at his sides, unsure of what to expect.

He never got the chance to figure it out.

Before he could react, Mingyu reached out, gripping his wrist with a firm but careful touch, and with one smooth pull, Wonwoo was falling forward. His breath caught as he landed against Mingyu’s broad chest, warmth seeping through the fabric of his clothes, the scent of him hitting all at once.

In the next instant, strong hands guided him, shifting him until he was straddling Mingyu’s thighs, his knees pressing into the couch on either side of him. The world tilted slightly in his vision, the sudden closeness making his heart pound wildly in his chest.

"What—" Wonwoo barely got the word out before Mingyu’s hands settled on his waist, holding him there with an ease that sent a shiver down his spine.

Mingyu’s grip was firm but not forceful, his thumbs pressing into the fabric of Wonwoo’s hoodie like he was trying to ground him. His body was solid beneath him, strong in a way that made Wonwoo hyper-aware of just how much taller, how much broader, how much manlier Mingyu was.

Wonwoo’s breath hitched. He hadn’t been expecting this. He hadn’t expected any of this.

But the way Mingyu was looking at him now—serious, unreadable, like he was seeing something no one else ever had—made it impossible to pull away.

"What did he do?" Mingyu’s voice was low, rough with an edge of something dark and dangerous, a warning more than a question. The sound of it sent a shiver down Wonwoo’s spine, making his entire body tense. There was something almost primal in the way Mingyu spoke, something that made Wonwoo feel like he was being cornered—like he was meant to submit, to surrender, to let himself be taken care of. Like he was some fragile thing that Mingyu refused to let break.

But he wasn’t fragile. He wouldn’t let himself be. Not now.

"That’s none of your business," Wonwoo forced out, his voice barely holding steady. He shifted in Mingyu’s lap, attempting to put some space between them, but Mingyu’s grip on his waist only tightened slightly, keeping him in place. "Let me up."

Mingyu didn’t budge. His eyes flickered, dark with something unreadable, something almost possessive. "No," he said, his tone final, unyielding. "Not until you tell me what happened."

Wonwoo swallowed, his throat dry, his body hyper-aware of the warmth pressing against him, of the way Mingyu’s strong hands held him so easily, like he was meant to be there. It was too much. Mingyu was too much.

But the moment he opened his mouth to protest again, the words crumbled before they could form.

"He…" Wonwoo’s breath hitched, his hands gripping the front of Mingyu’s hoodie as if holding onto it would somehow keep him from breaking apart entirely. His voice was quieter this time, almost fragile. "He cheated on me."

A single tear slipped past his lashes, trailing down his cheek before landing against the fabric of Mingyu’s hoodie.

Silence.

Then, Mingyu’s entire body went rigid beneath him. His jaw clenched so tightly that Wonwoo could hear his teeth grind together, his shoulders stiffening with barely contained rage. The warmth in his eyes flickered out, replaced by something cold and lethal.

"Get up," Mingyu ordered, his voice no longer just deep—it was dangerous, sharp like a blade pressed against someone’s throat. "I’m going to fucking rip his head off."

Wonwoo barely had time to process before Mingyu was already shifting, his grip loosening as if ready to push him off and storm out the door. The sheer fury radiating off him was palpable, the way his muscles coiled like he was seconds away from hunting the bastard down and making sure he never laid a hand on Wonwoo—or anyone—ever again.

But before Mingyu could move, before he could follow through on the rage burning in his chest, Wonwoo’s arms moved on their own.

His fingers curled around the back of Mingyu’s neck, pulling him back down. And before he knew what he was doing, he buried his face into the warmth of Mingyu’s throat, inhaling deep, shaking his head in silent refusal.

Don’t go.

He didn’t say it out loud, but he didn’t have to. Mingyu stilled immediately, the tension in his body lessening, his hands instinctively finding their place on Wonwoo’s waist again, steadying him. His breathing, ragged and uneven just moments ago, slowed as Wonwoo stayed curled against him.

For a moment, neither of them moved.

Wonwoo would be lying if he said he didn’t want to stay like this—to stay wrapped up in Mingyu’s warmth, to let himself forget for just a little while. He wanted to stop thinking, to stop hurting, to let Mingyu take care of him the way he always had before. Because if there was one thing he knew for sure, it was that Mingyu had always been good at taking care of him. Better than anyone.

And right now… Wonwoo wanted that. Needed that.

Before Wonwoo could even process what he was saying, the words slipped from his lips, muffled against Mingyu’s neck like a confession torn from the depths of his soul. "Fuck me. I need you."

The air between them went still. Mingyu’s grip on his waist tightened for a split second, his entire body going rigid beneath him. The way Wonwoo spoke, breathless and desperate, like he was high off Mingyu’s scent alone, sent a wildfire of emotions crashing through him.

Mingyu’s throat bobbed as he swallowed, his voice low, strained with restraint. "No. You should rest. You’re not thinking straight. I’ll take you to my r—"

But Wonwoo shook his head against his skin, his breath hot, needy, and Mingyu felt it—the way Wonwoo’s body pressed closer, the way his fingers curled just a little tighter against the fabric of his hoodie.

"No. I am thinking straight," Wonwoo whispered, voice raw, vulnerable in a way that made something inside Mingyu ache. "Take me. I don’t want to feel worthless anymore."

Mingyu’s heart clenched at that, at the way Wonwoo sounded like he was breaking apart in his arms. It made him want to ignore every reckless, self-destructive thing he was saying and just hold him, cradle him to sleep like he had done before—back when Wonwoo still belonged to him.

"Wonwoo, no," Mingyu exhaled, his voice softer now, as if trying to make him understand. "You don’t love me anymore. This isn’t—"

He never got to finish.

Wonwoo kissed him.

It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t hesitant. It was urgent, desperate, a collision of mouths and unspoken emotions. Wonwoo’s hands tangled into Mingyu’s hair, gripping tight as if anchoring himself there, his body moving instinctively, rolling ever so slightly in Mingyu’s lap.

Mingyu’s breath caught in his throat.

It took everything in him not to lose himself in it.

"No," Wonwoo murmured against his lips, panting, his forehead pressing against Mingyu’s as he stared into his eyes, pupils blown wide. "I fucking missed you."

And just like that, it all clicked into place.

The reason it had hurt so much. The reason he had felt worthless in the first place. It wasn’t just because he had been cheated on—it was because, deep down, he had never truly loved Jeongin. He had wanted to, had tried to force himself to, but something had always been missing. Something had always felt off.

And now, sitting here, straddling Mingyu’s lap, breathing in his scent like it was the only thing keeping him grounded, Wonwoo finally understood what that missing piece had been all along.

It had been Mingyu.

It had always been Mingyu.

The way Wonwoo’s lips ghosted over Mingyu’s jaw, the warmth of his breath fanning against his skin, sent a shiver down Mingyu’s spine. His grip on Wonwoo’s waist tightened instinctively, fingers digging into the fabric of his hoodie as if that alone would ground him. But it didn’t. Not when Wonwoo was this close, pressing into him, moving against him like he had every intention of setting Mingyu on fire and watching him burn.

"Please, Min…" Wonwoo whispered, the nickname slipping from his lips like a prayer, a plea wrapped in something so dangerously sweet that Mingyu swore he felt his restraint snap, his last thread of control unraveling right in front of him. The way Wonwoo rolled his hips, seeking friction with reckless desperation, only fueled the ache pooling low in Mingyu’s stomach, making it impossible to ignore just how much he wanted him—how much he needed him.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, his jaw clenching as he fought the urge to take him right then and there, but the way Wonwoo looked at him, pupils blown wide, lips parted, skin flushed, made restraint seem laughable. His fingers ghosted up Wonwoo’s sides before gripping his hips fully, holding him in place as he rasped out, "How do you want it?" His voice was rough, edged with something dark and unrelenting, something that promised to consume them both.

Wonwoo let out a breathy moan at that, tilting his head back slightly, as if already lost in the feeling of it. He was so responsive, so beautiful in the way he melted under Mingyu’s touch. His hands fisted into Mingyu’s hoodie, pulling him impossibly closer before murmuring, "Rough. Show me how much I mean to you." His voice wavered at the end, laced with vulnerability that made Mingyu’s chest tighten.

He didn’t hesitate.

In one swift motion, Mingyu flipped them, pressing Wonwoo into the couch beneath him, his weight caging him in. Wonwoo gasped, but there was no fear, only the quick rise and fall of his chest as he looked up at Mingyu with something dangerously close to surrender. Mingyu leaned in, nose brushing against Wonwoo’s, letting the warmth between them build before he murmured, "You have no idea what you’re asking for."

But Wonwoo did.

And he wanted it.

Mingyu’s hands moved with purpose, tugging at Wonwoo’s clothes, peeling away the layers that separated them until Wonwoo was bare beneath him, the soft glow of the room casting shadows over every sharp line and curve of his body. The sight alone had Mingyu swallowing hard, his fingers trailing over the expanse of skin, mapping out every inch of him like he needed to commit it to memory.

A sharp gasp left Wonwoo’s lips when the cool air met his heated skin, a full-body shiver wracking through him before Mingyu’s touch chased it away. His fingers curled around Mingyu’s shoulders, anchoring himself as his breath came in short, uneven pants.

"Eyes on me, love," Mingyu murmured, his voice deep, rich with something possessive, something primal.

Wonwoo obeyed.

And when Mingyu finally leaned down, his touch firm yet reverent, the world blurred at the edges, leaving only the two of them tangled together, lost in the fire of something that had never truly burned out.

Mingyu watched as Wonwoo arched beneath him, his body trembling with every flick of his tongue. He let Wonwoo tangle his fingers into his hair, his grip tightening each time Mingyu worked him deeper into pleasure. The way Wonwoo struggled to keep his eyes open, to obey his words even through the haze of need, sent a rush of satisfaction through him.

"That's it," Mingyu murmured against his skin, his voice rough with restraint. He wanted to see him come undone completely, to watch him lose himself in the moment. The sight alone was intoxicating.

Wonwoo's breath hitched, his body twitching as Mingyu pressed deeper, his tongue teasing, his hands firm but knowing. The sounds slipping from Wonwoo's lips were sinful, raw, and completely unfiltered, making Mingyu’s own self-control waver.

When Wonwoo pulled Mingyu's hand to his mouth, taking his fingers between soft lips, something inside Mingyu snapped. He groaned lowly, watching as Wonwoo sucked at them, his tongue warm, his gaze hooded with desperation.

“Wonwoo,” Mingyu breathed, his voice strained. The sensation, the way Wonwoo was moving so eagerly, sent heat coiling in his stomach.

Wonwoo’s pace quickened, his body shuddering, his head tilting back as he fought against the overwhelming pleasure. His grip on Mingyu's wrist tightened as Mingyu pressed further, fingers curling slightly, testing the way Wonwoo reacted, the way his breathing hitched just before his lips parted in a broken moan as mingyu pulled out his fingers.

“Mingyu—” Wonwoo gasped, his voice a plea, a question, a desperate need for permission. His entire body was taut, shaking, barely holding on.

Mingyu gave a low hum of approval around him, and that was all it took. Wonwoo’s body tensed before giving in entirely, his breath catching, his fingers clenching around Mingyu's wrist as a deep, shuddering exhale left him. His mind spun, his body light, as the pleasure crashed over him in waves, leaving him breathless, utterly wrecked.

Mingyu watched every second of it, drinking in the sight of Wonwoo unraveling in his mouth, and for the first time in years, something inside him felt complete.

Mingyu stood over Wonwoo, watching him with hooded eyes, his chest rising and falling with each heavy breath. Wonwoo, still catching his own breath, looked up at him, his lips parted, his expression dazed yet satisfied. The sight alone made something deep in Mingyu tighten, a possessive hunger stirring in his chest.

Without hesitation, he reached down, tilting Wonwoo’s chin up with his fingers. His touch was firm but lingering, his thumb brushing over the soft skin just beneath Wonwoo’s bottom lip. He leaned in, their breaths mingling, the warmth between them thick and electric as he pushed wonwoo's cum into his mouth.

It was messy, heated, their lips sliding together as Mingyu claimed every inch of Wonwoo’s mouth. The taste of him, the way he responded so naturally, made Mingyu groan low in his throat. He could feel the way Wonwoo melted into him, his hands fisting weakly at Mingyu’s hoodie like he didn’t want to let go.

When Mingyu finally pulled back, he dragged his thumb over Wonwoo’s glistening lips, watching the way he exhaled shakily. "Swallow," he murmured, his voice low and commanding, his eyes dark with something primal.

Wonwoo obeyed, his throat bobbing slightly as he parted his lips again, his tongue peeking out just enough to show his obedience. Mingyu felt a slow smirk pull at his lips, pleased and utterly enthralled by the way Wonwoo submitted so easily, yet still held that quiet defiance in his eyes.

“Good boy,” Mingyu whispered against his lips before kissing him again—this time softer, almost sweet, as if he was savoring the moment, imprinting the taste of Wonwoo on his tongue like he never wanted to forget it.

"His loss," Mingyu murmured, brushing his knuckles over Wonwoo’s swollen lips. "A dirty little thing like you… and cute, too."

Wonwoo shivered at the words, his breath hitching audibly. His hands flexed on Mingyu’s thighs, and the small, needy sound he made had Mingyu exhaling sharply through his nose, fighting to keep himself in control.

With slow, deliberate movements, Mingyu stood, his fingers brushing against the hem of his hoodie before tugging it over his head. He pressed it into Wonwoo’s hands, the scent of him lingering in the fabric. "Wear it." His voice softened, and he leaned down to press a lingering kiss against Wonwoo’s forehead—a stark contrast to the heat between them.

Wonwoo slipped it over his head, the fabric swallowing his frame. It felt warm, comforting, familiar, yet completely intoxicating with Mingyu’s scent surrounding him.

"Turn around," Mingyu said, his tone dipping lower, more commanding. "Hands on the couch."

Wonwoo swallowed, his body responding before his mind could catch up. He braced himself against the couch’s headrest, heart pounding as Mingyu stepped behind him, broad and imposing, his presence alone making Wonwoo feel lightheaded.

A strong hand gripped his waist, fingers digging in just enough to remind Wonwoo that Mingyu was in complete control. Then he felt it—the slow, torturous slide of Mingyu’s warmth against the back of his thighs, the deliberate pressure making him tremble.

"Close your thighs," Mingyu instructed, his voice right by Wonwoo’s ear.

A quiet whine escaped Wonwoo before he could stop it, his fingers tightening against the couch as he did what he was told. The moment his legs pressed together, Mingyu let out a low chuckle, his breath hot against Wonwoo’s neck.

"Good."

A rough hand tangled in Wonwoo’s hair, pulling his head back just enough to make their eyes meet. Mingyu’s dark gaze flickered over his face, drinking in every reaction. Then he leaned in, brushing a kiss against Wonwoo’s temple—slow, lingering, almost affectionate.

"You look so pretty like this, hyung. Especially with my scent all over you," The way he said it—low and teasing, laced with something possessive—sent a sharp jolt of heat through Wonwoo’s body. His breath stuttered, his lips parting involuntarily.

Mingyu smirked, pressing closer, his voice a taunting whisper against Wonwoo’s ear. "Are you getting worked up just from me calling you hyung?"

Wonwoo’s nails dug into the couch, his entire body betraying him with a shudder. Mingyu chuckled, the deep rumble of it sending sparks down Wonwoo’s spine.

"You are, aren’t you?" Mingyu hummed, dragging his nose along Wonwoo’s jaw, savoring the way he tensed and melted at the same time. "That’s cute."

Wonwoo squeezed his eyes shut, biting his lip. This was dangerous. Mingyu was dangerous. But then again, hadn’t he always been?

And right now, Wonwoo was completely at his mercy.

Mingyu moved faster between Wonwoo’s thighs, his grip tightening around his waist as their bodies moved in sync. Wonwoo tilted his head back, breathless, his fingers tangling in Mingyu’s hair as he pressed his lips against his neck, inhaling deeply as if trying to drown himself in his scent.

"Please," Wonwoo gasped, his voice raw with desperation. "Need you inside me."

The sound of his pleading was all it took for Mingyu to lose control, a deep groan rumbling from his chest as he came undone against Wonwoo’s thigh. His head fell forward, his breath hot against Wonwoo’s collarbone, his fingers digging into his hips as he rode out the moment.

“Fuck, you’re so hot,” Mingyu exhaled, his voice still laced with lingering pleasure.

But Wonwoo wasn’t done. He ignored the warmth trickling down his thigh, pushing Mingyu back onto the couch with a force that caught him off guard. Before Mingyu could react, Wonwoo straddled him again, his knees pressing into the cushions, his hands bracing against Mingyu’s chest.

“Let me ride you,” Wonwoo murmured, his lips already ghosting over Mingyu’s jaw as he reached back, teasingly running his fingers along Mingyu’s length. The sensation made Mingyu groan, his hands instinctively gripping Wonwoo’s thighs.

“You’re not prepped,” Mingyu managed to say, his voice rough with concern despite how much he wanted him.

“I don’t care,” Wonwoo whispered, determination flickering in his dark eyes. “I want to feel it. I want it to burn.”

Mingyu barely had time to protest before Wonwoo sank down, taking him in halfway. A sharp cry left his lips, his fingers trembling as he clutched at Mingyu’s shoulders, his body struggling to adjust.

“Wonwoo, if you can’t—” Mingyu started, his voice strained with restraint, but before he could finish, Wonwoo let out another broken sound and took him in fully, his body tensing as tears slipped down his cheeks.

Mingyu's heart clenched at the sight. Without hesitation, he wrapped his arms around Wonwoo, holding him close, his lips pressing soft kisses against his damp cheeks, his touch gentle despite the intensity of the moment.

“You’re doing so good, hyung,” Mingyu whispered, voice soothing as his hands traced slow, comforting circles against Wonwoo’s back. “Take your time.”

Wonwoo buried his face in Mingyu’s shoulder, breathing heavily, his body trembling slightly as he adjusted. He held onto him tightly, grounding himself in Mingyu’s warmth, his scent, his steady presence.

And when he was ready, when the sting dulled into something deeper, something more, he finally moved.

Mingyu's hands gripped Wonwoo's waist, his fingers pressing firm into his skin as their bodies moved together in perfect rhythm. Their breaths intermingled, hot and ragged, as Wonwoo rode him, lost in the sensation of Mingyu stretching him, filling him, hitting that perfect spot over and over again.

His thighs burned, muscles trembling from the effort, but the pleasure was overwhelming, intoxicating—Mingyu beneath him, solid and strong, meeting his movements halfway, pushing deeper, harder.

“Don’t stop, Wonwoo,” Mingyu groaned, his voice rough, desperate.

Wonwoo couldn’t have stopped even if he wanted to. His hands braced against Mingyu’s shoulders, nails digging into his skin as he chased his high, the coil tightening, winding impossibly tight until it finally snapped.

A sharp cry tore from his lips as he came, pleasure wracking through him in waves. Mingyu wasn’t far behind, his grip tightening, hips snapping up one last time before he groaned low in his throat, releasing deep inside him.

For a moment, they stayed like that—panting, bodies slick with sweat, the warmth of each other’s skin grounding them in the aftermath.

Mingyu pulled Wonwoo forward, arms wrapping around him as if he never wanted to let go. He pressed a kiss to his forehead, then another to his lips—soft, lingering, almost reverent.

“I love you, hyung,” he murmured, his voice hushed but certain. “I still do.”

Wonwoo’s breath hitched, his heart clenching at the words he hadn’t expected but somehow knew were coming. He exhaled shakily, burying his face in Mingyu’s shoulder, holding him just as tightly. “I love you too.”

Mingyu’s arms tightened around him, but then—

“But—”

“I know,” Mingyu said before Wonwoo could finish, his tone soft yet steady. “We fought a lot. Because of me. I got jealous too easily, I was over-possessive, and I hurt you because of it. I’m sorry, hyung.” His fingers traced slow, comforting circles against Wonwoo’s back. “I swear I’ve changed.”

Wonwoo sighed against his skin, his body exhausted, his mind clouded with warmth, but he heard every word. And he believed him.

“I promise I won’t make the same mistakes again,” Mingyu continued, voice barely above a whisper. “I’ll be better. I’ll make sure you never cry again.”

Wonwoo hummed sleepily, his response muffled against Mingyu’s skin, but the way he curled into him, the way his body softened in his arms, was answer enough.

Mingyu smiled, stroking lazy patterns along Wonwoo’s spine. “Well,” he mused, a teasing lilt creeping into his tone. “At least, not outside the bedroom.”

Wonwoo’s hand shot up, smacking Mingyu’s bare chest without even lifting his head.

Mingyu chuckled, catching Wonwoo’s wrist and pressing a kiss to his knuckles before shifting beneath him. “Okay, baby,” he murmured, voice thick with affection. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

And with that, he effortlessly lifted Wonwoo into his arms, carrying him away with all the care in the world.

[jeongchoiii]

Jealous

cw: nsfw, top!mingyu, bottom!wonwoo, jealous, blow job, face-fucking, fingering, anal sex, hand job, edging, possessive, man-handling, spanking, spit as lube.

summary: Why wouldn't wonwoo be jealous if he sees another beautiful man hitting on his crush? And worse, mingyu did nothing about it.

wc: 6.9k

Wonwoo didn’t have to do this.

There was no written rule that required a CEO to host appreciation dinners for their employees, no obligation that bound him to these occasional gatherings. And yet, he did it anyway, time and time again. It wasn’t just an empty gesture, not something he did out of mere politeness—it was something genuine. Something that, despite how composed and distant he tried to be as their boss, meant a lot to him.

The people working under him weren’t just employees. They were the ones who kept everything running, the ones who worked tirelessly to ensure that the company didn’t just survive but thrived. They were the backbone of everything, and Wonwoo knew that success wasn’t built alone. It was a collective effort, a constant push forward that involved every single person. And so, every once in a while, he made sure they knew how much he appreciated them.

That was why, on this particular Saturday night, he had decided to treat them all to a well-deserved dinner at one of the finest restaurants in the city. A celebration—not just for their hard work, but for them. A night where they could relax, drink, and laugh without the looming pressure of deadlines and meetings. He had even planned it strategically, knowing that tomorrow was Sunday, their official day off. They could drink as much as they wanted without worrying about dragging their exhausted, hungover selves into work the next morning.

The moment he made the announcement, a ripple of excitement spread through the office like wildfire. Employees lit up with joy, voices overlapping with eager expressions of gratitude. Thank yous were thrown in his direction from every corner of the room, warm smiles and appreciative glances meeting him wherever he turned.

Wonwoo accepted them all with a small nod, lips curving into a faint smile, but his attention wasn’t fully on them. Not when a certain someone was looking at him from across the room.

Mingyu.

Unlike the others, he didn’t cheer. He didn’t grin or thank him. He just watched—arms folded, head tilted slightly to the side, his lips curled into a smirk that was as infuriating as it was intriguing.

There it was again. That unspoken something between them.

The same tension that had been lingering in the air for weeks now. A heat that neither of them addressed, but both of them felt.

And it all started the night Wonwoo made a mistake.

The night he walked into the office bathroom and saw Mingyu with his pants pushed down, one hand braced against the sink while the other worked himself at a slow, deliberate pace.

The memory was still seared into Wonwoo’s mind.

Mingyu hadn’t panicked. He hadn’t stumbled over himself in a desperate attempt to hide what he was doing. He had simply turned his head, locked eyes with Wonwoo, and kept going.

And then—Wonwoo would never forget this—his movements had sped up.

He had gotten off on being watched.

On being caught.

Wonwoo had frozen.

His body refused to move, his breath caught somewhere in his throat. The logical part of his brain screamed at him to look away, to leave, to say something.

But he didn’t.

Not until the heat in his cheeks became unbearable, not until his own thoughts turned dangerous.

Only then had he forced himself to turn and walk away without a single word.

He should have reprimanded Mingyu for such unacceptable behavior in a professional environment. He should have called him into his office and made it clear that something like that could never happen again.

But he hadn’t.

And ever since then, Mingyu had been toying with him.

There was no other way to describe it. The way he smirked whenever they were alone in a room together. The way he brushed past him in the hallway when there was plenty of space to walk without touching. The way he stared at him sometimes, like he was waiting for Wonwoo to break.

It was getting to him.

It was really getting to him.

Because now, Wonwoo found himself watching Mingyu.

From his office, through the transparent glass walls, he had caught himself staring on multiple occasions—watching the way Mingyu rolled up his sleeves when he carried something heavy, the way the veins in his forearms became more prominent, the way his muscles flexed under his fitted dress shirts.

It was pathetic.

Embarrassing, even.

But no matter how many times Wonwoo told himself to stop, his eyes would wander whenever Mingyu was around.

And tonight was no different.

Everyone was heading to the restaurant, making their way to their cars or arranging rides with coworkers. Wonwoo had his own car, and most employees had already left, but just as he was about to do the same, something made him stop.

Or rather, someone.

Mingyu, straddling his sleek black motorcycle, slipping a helmet over his head.

That alone would’ve been enough to make Wonwoo pause.

But what really made his stomach churn was the sight of Jeonghan—one of the newer employees—climbing onto the bike behind him.

His hands resting on Mingyu’s shoulders.

His body pressed up against him.

Wonwoo’s grip on his car keys tightened.

He shouldn’t care.

He didn’t care.

But his blood was boiling.

It wasn’t as if Jeonghan didn’t have other options. If he needed a ride, Wonwoo had a car. He could have easily offered to drive him, but apparently, Jeonghan had chosen Mingyu instead.

And Mingyu—of course—hadn’t said no.

Wonwoo’s jaw clenched, his gaze locked onto them.

Jeonghan said something, leaning in closer to be heard over the low rumble of the engine. Wonwoo wasn’t close enough to hear the words, but he could see the way Jeonghan smiled at Mingyu, the easy familiarity in the way he touched him.

Mingyu didn’t react much. He just tilted his head slightly in response, listening.

And then—just as Wonwoo was about to turn away—Mingyu’s head shifted just enough that for a split second, it seemed like he was looking directly at Wonwoo.

His helmet was dark, concealing his face. It was impossible to tell for sure if their eyes had met.

Was he looking at him?

Or was he just adjusting to hear Jeonghan better?

Wonwoo wanted to believe the first option.

He needed to believe it.

But it didn’t matter. Because at the end of the day, Jeonghan was the one riding away with Mingyu, clinging to him as the bike roared to life and disappeared down the street.

And Wonwoo, left standing in the parking lot, couldn’t shake the unsettling weight in his chest.

He hated this.

Hated how possessive he felt over something that didn’t even belong to him.

The restaurant was lively, filled with the buzz of conversation and the clinking of glasses as everyone settled in. The ambiance was warm, dim lighting casting a golden hue over the elegant setting. This place was familiar—it was the restaurant they always chose for these gatherings, a spot that held memories of past celebrations and late-night laughter.

Wonwoo had chosen his seat carefully, slipping into the farthest corner of the large table, hoping for a moment of peace amidst the lively chatter. Unfortunately, fate—or perhaps just pure bad luck—had placed Mingyu directly across from him. And to make things even more unbearable, Jeonghan was seated right beside him.

The evening began smoothly, laughter spilling across the table as drinks were poured, and plates were filled. A chorus of "thank yous" rang in the air as everyone expressed their gratitude for Wonwoo’s generosity. He only smiled, dismissing their worries about the bill. “Order as much as you want,” he said, voice warm but firm. “It’s on me.”

That was met with enthusiastic responses, and soon, everyone was indulging in their meals, drinking freely now that there was no work to worry about the next day.

Wonwoo, however, found himself struggling to focus on his food.

Because every time he looked up, Mingyu was there.

He was across the table, effortlessly attractive as always, sleeves rolled up to his elbows, one arm resting on the table as he spoke to Jeonghan. But it wasn’t just that— it was the way Mingyu’s fingers toyed with the rim of his glass, the way his lips curled in amusement at whatever Jeonghan was saying, the way he occasionally stole glances in his direction.

And it was messing with Wonwoo’s head.

“Wonwoo!”

A sudden weight pressed against him, snapping him out of his daze. He barely had time to react before he realized that Seungcheol—one of his closest employees, and someone he actually considered a friend—had thrown an arm around him, pulling him into a half-hug.

Wonwoo blinked in surprise before chuckling softly, hugging him back. Seungcheol was one of the few people he allowed in his personal space. They had known each other for years, and their bond was one of familiarity and trust. It wasn’t unusual for Seungcheol to be affectionate like this, and Wonwoo had long stopped minding.

But as Seungcheol pulled away, Wonwoo’s eyes flickered back across the table—only to catch Mingyu, frozen mid-bite, eyes locked onto them.

He wasn’t eating.

His fork was in his hand, food forgotten, gaze dark and unreadable.

For a moment, Wonwoo felt a spark of satisfaction at the idea that Mingyu might not like seeing him this close to someone else. Was he jealous?

But just as quickly as the thought formed, he shoved it away, telling himself he was being ridiculous. He didn’t know what Mingyu was thinking. Maybe he was just zoning out. Maybe he wasn’t even looking at him, but rather at something behind him.

So Wonwoo did the only logical thing—he ignored him.

“Are you alright?” Seungcheol’s voice was closer this time, his brows furrowed as he studied him.

Wonwoo turned back to him, the noise of the restaurant suddenly feeling muffled compared to the warmth of Seungcheol’s presence beside him.

Of course, he had noticed. Seungcheol always noticed.

“I’m fine,” Wonwoo assured him, but his gaze betrayed him when it flickered back toward Mingyu and Jeonghan. They were talking, but Mingyu’s attention wasn’t fully on their conversation.

He was glancing over again.

Wonwoo knew it.

And Seungcheol knew it too.

A smirk curled onto Seungcheol’s lips before he leaned in, voice low as he whispered in Wonwoo’s ear, “Seems like someone’s jealous.”

Wonwoo flinched at the teasing tone, instinctively leaning back. “What?”

Seungcheol only grinned, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Come on, don’t play dumb.”

Wonwoo opened his mouth to protest, but the words never came. Because…

He was jealous.

Painfully, stupidly, undeniably jealous.

So instead of denying it, he sighed, dropping his head slightly before muttering, “I am.”

Seungcheol looked momentarily surprised by the honesty, but his expression softened just as quickly.

“Thought so,” he murmured, leaning back in his seat, gaze flicking toward Jeonghan.

Ah.

Wonwoo wasn’t the only one jealous tonight.

He had almost forgotten—Seungcheol had a thing for Jeonghan.

And Jeonghan, currently seated beside Mingyu, talking and laughing with him, wasn’t paying Seungcheol a single ounce of attention.

For a brief moment, their eyes met, two men sitting side by side, both suffering in silence over the people they wanted but couldn’t have.

Seungcheol chuckled under his breath, shaking his head. “We’re pathetic.”

Wonwoo sighed. “We really are.”

Seungcheol's lips curled into a smirk as he leaned in, his breath warm against Wonwoo’s ear. “But we could try something to pull their attention to us. At least we have their attention.” His voice was low, dripping with mischief, and Wonwoo couldn’t help the smirk that tugged at his own lips in response.

“Let’s give it a try,” Wonwoo murmured, shifting closer, allowing Seungcheol’s arm to settle around his shoulders as if they belonged there. He didn’t mind the way their bodies pressed together—it was comfortable, easy. But more than that, he knew exactly what effect it would have on a certain someone sitting across the table.

The dinner had started off harmless enough, laughter echoing around their usual restaurant as drinks were poured and plates were filled. A few employees had already succumbed to the alcohol, slumped against the table in varying stages of intoxication, while others drank more leisurely, savoring the rare night of indulgence their boss had offered them. Wonwoo watched with a pleased smile, encouraging them to order more if they wanted, to enjoy themselves without restraint.

But his attention wasn’t really on them.

It was on Mingyu.

Mingyu, who hadn’t touched a single drop of alcohol the entire night, while Jeonghan—who had started drinking the moment they sat down—was growing looser, bolder, draping himself over Mingyu as if it were second nature. Wonwoo caught the way Jeonghan leaned in close, whispering something into Mingyu’s ear, the way his fingers trailed over his arm in a manner too familiar for comfort. But what irked him more was Mingyu’s reaction—or lack thereof. He wasn’t shoving Jeonghan off, wasn’t resisting in the way Wonwoo wanted him to.

A scoff left Wonwoo before he could stop it. Not that Mingyu was any better—because whenever Seungcheol leaned in, letting his breath tickle the shell of Wonwoo’s ear, Mingyu’s gaze sharpened. Whenever Wonwoo threw his head back in laughter at something Seungcheol said, Mingyu’s fingers twitched against his glass. The tension was thick, heavy, almost suffocating, but neither of them acknowledged it directly.

Until Wonwoo decided to push it further.

He didn’t think much about it when he did it, but the moment he grabbed Seungcheol’s collar and yanked him closer, his lips ghosting over the man’s skin as he murmured something low, he knew exactly what kind of fire he was playing with. Seungcheol barely hesitated before tilting his head, taking the invitation, and dragging his lips down the curve of Wonwoo’s neck, slow and deliberate. His tongue flicked over the sensitive skin, his teeth grazing teasingly before he sucked lightly, just enough to leave a faint mark behind. Wonwoo shivered, his grip loosening against Seungcheol’s jacket as a quiet sound escaped his lips.

Mingyu stopped breathing.

He wasn’t the only one. Jeonghan had gone completely still beside him, his fingers tightening around his beer glass, knuckles turning white. But Wonwoo wasn’t looking at Jeonghan. He was looking at Mingyu.

Mingyu, whose jaw was locked so tight it looked painful. Mingyu, whose dark eyes had locked onto the way Seungcheol’s lips moved against Wonwoo’s neck with something so feral it sent a thrill down Wonwoo’s spine.

Oh, this was fun.

Seungcheol smirked against his skin, clearly pleased with the way Wonwoo was reacting, with the way Mingyu was reacting. His hands tightened on Wonwoo’s waist, dragging him just a fraction closer, and Wonwoo let him. It was intoxicating, knowing they had all of Mingyu’s attention now, that every little touch, every teasing graze of lips against skin, was setting him on fire.

It wasn’t just Mingyu either. Jeonghan’s glare could have burned holes through Seungcheol’s skull, his expression darkening by the second. His lips parted slightly, like he wanted to say something, to call out the act for what it was, but before he could, his body moved on its own.

One moment, Seungcheol was pressing against Wonwoo, and the next, he was being yanked back, pulled away so abruptly that Wonwoo almost whined at the loss of contact.

And then Jeonghan’s lips crashed against Seungcheol’s.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was raw, desperate, fueled by something deeper than just alcohol. Jeonghan’s fingers tangled in Seungcheol’s hair, pulling him closer, deeper, as if he wanted to devour him whole. Seungcheol let out a muffled sound of surprise before responding just as fiercely, his hands gripping Jeonghan’s waist as the kiss turned into something almost dangerous.

Wonwoo didn’t even blink.

Instead, he turned, eyes immediately finding Mingyu’s across the table.

And oh, if looks could kill.

Mingyu wasn’t just watching anymore. He was burning.

Wonwoo barely had time to process what was happening before Mingyu was already on his feet, rounding the table with a kind of determination that made something coil tight in his stomach. He should have been paying attention to how Seungcheol was now dragging Jeonghan out of the restaurant, their heated makeout barely paused as they stumbled towards the exit. But no, his focus was entirely on the man storming toward him, eyes locked on him like a predator that had finally found its prey.

The moment Mingyu’s fingers wrapped around his wrist, Wonwoo felt the heat of his touch like a brand against his skin. It wasn’t just physical warmth—it was something deeper, something that sent a sharp thrill down his spine. The grip was firm, almost possessive, and before he could make a comment, he was being dragged through the restaurant without another word.

Mingyu was practically seething, his entire body radiating something dark and untamed, and Wonwoo let himself be pulled along, entirely willing. He could already guess where this was heading, and if the way his pulse picked up was any indication, he wasn’t opposed to it.

“Where are you taking me?” Wonwoo asked, though the smirk playing on his lips made it clear he already knew the answer.

“Shut up,” Mingyu growled, his voice rough, almost trembling with restraint. Wonwoo could feel the tension rolling off him, the kind of energy that spoke of a man barely holding himself together.

A moment later, they reached the restroom, and before Wonwoo could utter another teasing remark, he was shoved inside, the door slamming shut behind them as Mingyu twisted the lock with a sharp click.

Wonwoo leaned against the sink, mirroring the same stance Mingyu had taken days ago, back when their roles were reversed. He arched an eyebrow, unfazed, completely reveling in the way Mingyu looked right now—dark, dangerous, and undeniably breathtaking. His chest rose and fell with deep breaths, his pupils blown wide with something raw.

“That’s not how you speak to your boss, now, do you, Mr. Kim?” Wonwoo murmured, voice laced with amusement, though he could feel his own heartbeat hammering against his ribs.

Mingyu’s gaze burned into him, his eyes a deep, simmering red, like he was barely holding himself back from tearing Wonwoo apart. He took a step forward, erasing the distance between them until their bodies were nearly flush together, the heat radiating off him making Wonwoo’s breath hitch slightly.

“What part of what I said you didn't understand, Wonwoo?” Mingyu’s voice was low, dripping with something dangerous, and Wonwoo felt his fingers tighten against the edge of the sink behind him.

“You don’t get to command me, Mr. Kim,” he whispered back, still maintaining the smirk, though he wasn’t sure how much longer he could hold it. Mingyu was breathtaking like this—intense, unfiltered, the sheer weight of his presence making the air between them thick enough to drown in.

And then, before Wonwoo could think of another sharp remark, Mingyu crushed their lips together.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t careful. It was pure, unrelenting hunger.

Wonwoo barely had time to react before he felt Mingyu’s hands on him, sliding over his waist, his torso, burning through the fabric of his shirt as if he wanted to map out every inch of him with his touch. Mingyu kissed him like he had been waiting too long for this moment, like the frustration, the jealousy, the tension had all finally snapped, leaving only desire behind.

Wonwoo groaned into the kiss, his fingers flying to Mingyu’s hair, tugging him closer, as if they weren’t already pressed together as tightly as possible. He could feel Mingyu’s heartbeat against his own, fast and erratic, matching the way their mouths moved—desperate, urgent, devouring.

Mingyu wasn’t just kissing him. He was claiming him. And Wonwoo was letting him.

Mingyu pulled away abruptly, leaving Wonwoo breathless, his lips parted as if chasing the contact he had just lost. It took everything in him not to yank Mingyu back down and crash their mouths together again. The sudden space between them felt unbearable, like something had been ripped away too soon.

Mingyu, standing taller, looked down at him with dark, hooded eyes, his gaze sharp and burning. The muscles in his jaw twitched, his teeth grinding as he tilted Wonwoo’s face up with a firm grip, forcing him to meet his eyes. But Mingyu wasn’t just looking at him—he was staring at his neck, at the faint but undeniable mark left behind by Seungcheol.

Wonwoo saw it happen—the slow, dangerous tightening of Mingyu’s fingers, the way his expression darkened, the way his chest heaved just a little harder. His possessiveness, his jealousy—it was so palpable it made Wonwoo’s stomach flip in excitement. He had wanted this. Had wanted to see Mingyu unravel, wanted to push him over the edge just to feel what came next.

A slow, teasing smirk curled at the corners of Wonwoo’s lips, his voice dripping with provocation. "Didn’t take you for the jealous type, Mingyu." His words were light, taunting, but his pulse betrayed him, hammering against his skin.

Mingyu didn’t reply. He didn’t need to. Instead, he moved with an unforgiving roughness, spinning Wonwoo around in a fluid motion until he was facing the mirror above the sink. Wonwoo barely had a second to adjust before he felt fingers threading through his hair—Mingyu’s hand tightening at the base of his skull before yanking his head back. A groan tore from Wonwoo’s lips as his back arched, his body forced against Mingyu’s firm chest.

And then he felt it—Mingyu pressed against him, hot and unrelenting.

The sound Mingyu made was guttural, almost a growl, his grip tightening as Wonwoo’s body shifted against his. "You really let him put his hands on you," Mingyu muttered, his voice low, rough, lips brushing the shell of Wonwoo’s ear with every word. "Let him mark you while I was sitting right there, watching, thinking about how I should’ve dragged you out instead—laid you out in front of everyone so they knew exactly who you belonged to."

Wonwoo exhaled shakily, fingers gripping the edge of the sink, his own reflection staring back at him. His pupils were blown wide, his lips kiss-bruised, his breath coming in shallow pants—and then there was Mingyu, pressed against him, looking just as wrecked, just as desperate, his own restraint hanging by a thread.

And there, clear as day on his neck, was Seungcheol’s mark. A vivid red reminder of what had happened tonight.

Wonwoo should’ve been annoyed—but he wasn’t. Not when it had worked Mingyu up like this, not when it had led to this moment, to Mingyu manhandling him like he was something to be owned.

Mingyu met his gaze in the mirror, his grip still firm in his hair, his body still flush against his. "Look at you," he muttered, voice thick with something dangerous, something possessive. "Standing here like this, acting all smug when you look like the perfect little slut begging to be ruined."

And the worst part?

He wasn’t wrong.

"What are you gonna do, Gyu? Punish me?" Wonwoo’s voice was smooth, taunting, the nickname rolling off his tongue like a deliberate dare. He could see the way Mingyu’s expression darkened, the way his fingers twitched at his sides like he was restraining himself from doing exactly that. It only made Wonwoo’s smirk widen.

"You think that’s what you want, don’t you?" Mingyu murmured, voice rough, dangerously quiet. He leaned in, pressing a slow, mocking kiss to Wonwoo’s temple, a touch that could’ve been mistaken for tenderness—if not for the sharp tension crackling between them. It lingered for only a second before he pulled away, eyes glinting with something wicked.

"Maybe," Wonwoo mused, tilting his head, smirking up at him. "Or maybe not."

Mingyu let out a slow breath, studying him like a predator deciding how to strike. Then, without a word, he grabbed Wonwoo’s waistband and yanked his pants down in one swift motion, leaving him completely exposed. The cool air against his skin sent a sharp thrill through him, but it was nothing compared to the way Mingyu looked at him—eyes heavy-lidded, consuming.

"Who would’ve thought," Mingyu mused, fingers trailing over his hip with agonizing slowness, "that the cold, composed boss had such a slutty side?" His voice dropped, thick with amusement and something darker. "Bet no one would believe me if I told them how much you like being handled like this."

Wonwoo barely had time to react before Mingyu’s palm cracked against his bare skin, the sharp slap echoing in the quiet space. Wonwoo let out a sharp breath, his body instinctively arching into the touch, pleasure and pain colliding in a way that made his fingers curl tighter around the sink’s edge.

Mingyu wasted no time. With deliberate force, he grabbed Wonwoo’s thighs and lifted him onto the counter, making him sit right on the cool surface—facing him this time. Their eyes locked, and the shift in position sent heat straight to Wonwoo’s core. Mingyu slotted himself between his legs, hands gripping his waist, keeping him trapped against him.

"You look fucking ruined already," Wonwoo murmured, breath hitching, his fingers moving up to fist the front of Mingyu’s shirt.

Mingyu scoffed, his smirk curling against his lips as he trailed his fingers up Wonwoo’s inner thigh, just barely grazing where he wanted him. "Didn’t I look like this when I was jerking off?"

The memory crashed over Wonwoo like a tidal wave—the way Mingyu had looked that night, bathed in dim light, completely lost in pleasure. His body had been perfect, golden skin glowing, head tipped back, lips parted in bliss. Wonwoo swallowed hard, heat creeping up his neck.

"Yeah," Wonwoo admitted, voice quieter, needier than he intended. "You did."

Mingyu leaned in, lips brushing against Wonwoo’s ear, his voice a slow, deliberate whisper. "I still remember how you looked too," he murmured, his breath hot against his skin. "Like you were about to drop to your knees and beg for it." His hand moved lower, teasing, fingers dancing along sensitive skin but never fully touching.

Mingyu worked him over with slow, deliberate strokes, his fingers tight around Wonwoo’s length, his touch both rough and teasing. Each pump sent sparks of pleasure shooting through him, making him arch against the cool surface of the sink, his breath coming in shaky gasps. His thighs trembled where they bracketed Mingyu’s waist, his body instinctively chasing the friction even as he tried to resist the urge to beg for more.

Mingyu’s smirk never wavered, his sharp eyes dark with something dangerously pleased as he watched Wonwoo unravel beneath his hands. Without warning, he reached up, gripping Wonwoo’s jaw firmly, tilting his face up until their eyes locked. The intensity in Mingyu’s gaze sent a shiver down his spine.

"The second you look away," Mingyu murmured, voice deep and steady, "or if you close your eyes for even a second, you won’t get to cum until I decide you deserve it." His thumb brushed over Wonwoo’s parted lips, almost soothing, but his smirk told another story. "And I don’t think I’ll be feeling generous anytime soon."

Wonwoo’s breath hitched, frustration and need coiling tighter in his gut. His fingers curled into a fist before he struck Mingyu’s chest in protest—not that it did anything. Mingyu barely flinched, his smirk widening as if he found it amusing.

Then, without warning, Mingyu’s pace increased, and Wonwoo instantly lost the battle to stay composed. A ragged moan tore from his throat, his hips jerking forward instinctively as Mingyu’s grip tightened, dragging him deeper into pleasure. He was a mess—moaning, whining, his fingers gripping at Mingyu’s hair in a desperate attempt to ground himself. But it was useless.

His body trembled, thighs clenching around Mingyu’s sides, and yet—he forced his eyes to stay open. It took everything in him not to shut them, to just give in to the overwhelming sensation, but he knew better. Mingyu meant every word he said, and with the way jealousy still burned hot behind his teasing smirk, Wonwoo knew Mingyu would follow through on his threat.

"Mingyu… I’m gonna—" Wonwoo’s voice broke on a moan, his body tensing as pleasure built to a peak so intense it left him shaking. His head tipped back, and in that moment, his eyes fluttered shut—just for a second, just enough to get lost in the sensation.

And then—everything stopped.

Mingyu’s hand disappeared from his length as if he had never been touching him at all, the heat and friction ripped away so suddenly that Wonwoo let out a desperate whine, his chest heaving, body twitching from the loss. His eyes snapped open, dazed and pleading, only to be met with Mingyu’s smug expression, his brow raised in mock innocence, lips curling at the corners.

"Told you," Mingyu drawled, the teasing lilt in his voice sending a fresh wave of frustration through Wonwoo’s already aching body.

Wonwoo groaned, hands fisting against the edge of the sink. "No, no, I’m sorry—I’ll be good. Just—just let me cum, I swear—" His voice cracked with need, desperation clear in the way he trembled, in the way his thighs clenched around Mingyu’s sides.

But Mingyu only laughed, shaking his head as he leaned in, dragging his lips lazily along Wonwoo’s jaw, just enough to taunt him. "Nah," he murmured, his breath warm against Wonwoo’s flushed skin. "I gave you a chance. I was already being generous." His fingers traced along the inside of Wonwoo’s thigh, featherlight, doing absolutely nothing to help the ache between his legs. "And you lost it."

Wonwoo cursed under his breath, eyes flashing up to meet Mingyu’s, but the moment he opened his mouth to argue, Mingyu’s grip tightened around his waist, and in one swift motion, he was yanked off the sink and shoved to his knees.

The cold floor sent a sharp contrast to the heat pooling in his stomach, but he barely noticed—too busy staring up at Mingyu, lips slightly parted, eyes still dazed with need.

Mingyu looked down at him, chest rising and falling a little too fast, his own restraint clearly wearing thin. "You want to act cute now?" he scoffed, watching the way Wonwoo pouted, his lips plush and far too inviting.

"I just…" Wonwoo swallowed, fingers lightly trailing up Mingyu’s thighs. His voice was softer now, almost sweet in contrast to the way his body burned with frustration. "I just wanted to make you jealous."

Mingyu’s jaw clenched, his grip tightening in Wonwoo’s hair, but his voice remained steady—dangerous. "Stop trying to butter me up." He exhaled sharply, his patience running out. "And unbuckle my damn pants."

Wonwoo shivered at the sheer command in his voice, fingers already moving before he could think twice.

Wonwoo’s hands trembled as he pulled down Mingyu’s pants, his breath uneven, lips parted in anticipation. He was desperate, the ache between his legs unbearable, his body strung so tight it bordered on painful. He tried to move, to grind his thighs together for even the slightest bit of friction, but it wasn’t enough—not even close. He needed more.

Mingyu’s fingers tangled in his hair, yanking his head back just enough to force him to meet his gaze. The sight alone was enough to make Mingyu’s breath hitch—Wonwoo, on his knees, pupils blown wide with need, his tie hanging loose around his neck, shirt half-unbuttoned, exposing the flushed skin beneath. He looked ruined. And all because he wanted to cum.

How cute.

Mingyu smirked, brushing his thumb along Wonwoo’s jaw, almost tender before gripping it just tight enough to make his point. "Alright," he murmured, voice smooth but laced with something dark. "Since you’re being so good, I’ll be generous—just this once." His gaze flickered down, taking in every inch of Wonwoo’s wrecked state. "Why don’t you fuck yourself while you suck me off?"

A shudder ran through Wonwoo’s spine, his body reacting instantly to the command. His pride had long since vanished—there was no shame, no hesitation. He wanted this. He needed it. And if being like this, completely at Mingyu’s mercy, meant he could finally have his release, then so be it.

He nodded eagerly, hands already moving.

"Then get your fingers wet," Mingyu ordered, his own grip tightening around himself, lazily stroking as he watched the way Wonwoo immediately obeyed.

Without breaking eye contact, Wonwoo slipped two fingers past his lips, hollowing his cheeks as he sucked them in deep, his tongue swirling around the digits in slow, deliberate movements. He moaned around them, the vibrations sending a shiver through Mingyu’s body.

"Fuck," Mingyu groaned, his jaw clenching as he watched the way Wonwoo bobbed his head slightly, mimicking exactly what he’d do in just a moment. The sight alone was enough to make Mingyu's restraint snap, his free hand tightening in Wonwoo’s hair, guiding his movements as his own breathing grew heavier.

He was going to ruin him. And Wonwoo was more than ready to be ruined.

Wonwoo’s breath came in ragged gasps as he slid a hand behind himself, fingers teasing around his rim, shuddering at the contrast of sensations—his own tentative touch against the burning weight of Mingyu’s gaze. That gaze was consuming, dark, looking at him as if he were nothing more than a toy to be used and discarded once satisfaction was reached. And the worst part? Wonwoo found himself craving it.

The thought of being bound, completely at Mingyu’s mercy, or worse—being taken apart in front of everyone, even Seungcheol, so he could watch exactly what he had provoked—sent a sharp jolt of arousal straight through him.

"You’re thinking about it, aren’t you?" Mingyu’s voice was low, smooth, but edged with something dangerous. "All the filthy shit that’s got you this worked up."

Wonwoo barely had time to react before he felt the first push of his own fingers breaching him, his body twitching at the intrusion. His other hand slid up, wrapping around the base of Mingyu’s length, and without hesitation, he leaned forward, letting his tongue flick teasingly over the sensitive tip.

The effect was immediate. Mingyu exhaled sharply, his muscles tensing, fingers curling tighter in Wonwoo’s hair. His expression was one of pure hunger—dark eyes fixed on Wonwoo like he was a meal about to be devoured.

"Stop teasing." Mingyu’s voice had dropped even lower, rough with impatience. "Take it all."

Before Wonwoo could react, Mingyu’s grip tightened, pushing him down in one swift motion, forcing him to take his length fully into his mouth. A strangled gag left Wonwoo as his throat constricted around the sudden intrusion, tears pricking at the corners of his eyes. At the same time, his fingers pushed deeper inside himself, the burn of the stretch mixing with the overwhelming sensation of Mingyu filling his mouth.

Wonwoo’s eyes fluttered shut, his body jerking as pleasure and pain collided, his own touch pressing against just the right spot. His throat vibrated with a moan, sending a deep, almost desperate groan tumbling from Mingyu’s lips.

"Fuck," Mingyu cursed, his grip tightening as his hips flexed forward just slightly, the warmth of Wonwoo’s mouth almost unbearable.

Wonwoo could feel himself unraveling already. And by the way Mingyu looked down at him, half-lidded eyes filled with raw desire, he knew neither of them would last long.

Mingyu’s rhythm grew erratic, his thrusts rough and relentless as he chased his climax, the grip in Wonwoo’s hair tightening with every sharp intake of breath. Wonwoo, barely keeping himself grounded, curled his fingers just right, hitting that spot inside himself over and over, sending shudders through his body. The pleasure was overwhelming, his thighs trembling as he teetered on the edge.

Mingyu was a mess above him, his skin glistening with sweat, chest rising and falling in heavy pants. Wonwoo’s teary eyes flicked up, watching the way Mingyu’s lips parted, his tongue slipping out slightly as if he were lost in concentration—desperate to tip himself over.

“Fuck—” Mingyu’s voice was deep, breathless. “You have no idea how fucking good you look right now, touching yourself like that… taking me so well.”

That was all it took. Wonwoo let out a muffled moan around Mingyu’s length, his body jerking violently as pleasure ripped through him. His own release spilled over his fingers, hot and messy, just as Mingyu groaned loudly, his body tensing before he came, spilling down Wonwoo’s throat in thick, warm pulses.

Wonwoo swallowed around him, the feeling making Mingyu shudder as he rode out the last waves of his high. Slowly, Mingyu pulled back, his length slipping from Wonwoo’s swollen lips, leaving behind a sinful mess. Wonwoo, still panting, let his tongue stick out slightly, showing he had taken everything.

Mingyu let out a low chuckle, his eyes dark and satisfied as he lazily tapped the tip of his length against Wonwoo’s tongue, smirking at the way Wonwoo didn’t flinch—only looking up at him with something equally as wicked.

“Such a good boy,” Mingyu murmured, his voice dripping with amusement, running a thumb across Wonwoo’s bottom lip, pressing slightly before pulling away. “Maybe I should keep you on your knees more often.”

"I'm your boss, motherfucker," Wonwoo muttered, his voice wrecked from everything Mingyu had just put him through. His body still trembled, his legs weak, but Mingyu only looked at him with that insufferable smirk—proud, satisfied, and completely in control.

Mingyu hummed, adjusting Wonwoo’s tie as if he hadn’t just had him on his knees moments ago. "And yet, my boss had no problem getting on his knees for me," he teased, voice dripping with amusement.

Wonwoo scoffed, batting Mingyu’s hands away. "Whatever. What about you flirting with Jeonghan?"

Mingyu tilted his head, lips curling into a smirk. "Oh? Was my baby jealous?" He leaned in, his breath hot against Wonwoo’s ear. "I could see right through you, standing there in the parking lot looking like you were about to commit murder."

Wonwoo huffed, rolling his eyes. "You could’ve just said no."

Mingyu chuckled, sliding his hands down to grip Wonwoo’s waist. "Relax. He was just trying to make Seungcheol jealous. Turns out Seungcheol had the same plan, too."

Wonwoo blinked at that, but the thought barely settled in before he was surging forward, capturing Mingyu’s lips in a heated kiss. Mingyu groaned into it, his grip tightening, pulling Wonwoo flush against him. The moment they broke apart, their breaths mingled, heavy and charged.

"You still could’ve denied him, idiot," Wonwoo muttered, his fingers still curled into Mingyu’s collar.

"And miss watching you get all worked up over me?" Mingyu grinned, his hands sliding lower, pressing himself against Wonwoo’s thigh just enough to let him feel how much he’d been affected. "Your jealous side is kind of hot, you know."

Wonwoo exhaled shakily, trying to act unaffected. But the heat between them was suffocating, and the way Mingyu was looking at him—hungry and amused—made something coil in his stomach.

"Go ahead, then," Wonwoo murmured, turning around and pressing his hands against the wall. He arched his back, pushing his ass out just enough to taunt Mingyu. "Fuck me."

Mingyu swore under his breath, gripping Wonwoo’s hips hard enough to leave marks. "You’re a menace," he muttered, lips ghosting over Wonwoo’s shoulder before biting down, making the older hiss.

"Take it slow," Wonwoo mumbled, voice softer now, filled with anticipation.

Mingyu exhaled sharply, pressing a kiss to the spot he’d just bitten. "I know you love it rough," he whispered, sliding a hand down to spread Wonwoo open. His fingers teased over sensitive skin, dragging out a low whimper from Wonwoo.

"You’re already so desperate," Mingyu murmured, rubbing himself against Wonwoo’s entrance, teasing him with shallow movements. "Tell me how bad you want it."

"Just put it in," Wonwoo snapped, his fingers curling against the wall as frustration built up inside him.

Mingyu smirked, spitting into his hand before slicking himself up. He pressed in slowly, groaning as Wonwoo clenched around him.

"Fuck," Mingyu breathed, his hands gripping Wonwoo’s waist as he rolled his hips in slow, teasing thrusts. "Didn’t think I’d end up fucking you in a restaurant bathroom, but here we are."

Wonwoo let out a strained moan, his body stretching around the thick intrusion. "Shut up and move," he panted.

And Mingyu did exactly that.