kirilunimimi

[kirilunimimi]

╰┈➤ professor! ♡ j. yunho

⋆˚꩜  your professor wants to talk to you about your plummeting grades, so why are you now bent over his desk?

❤︎  pairing: professor!yunho x student!fem!reader . ❤︎  genre – warnings: smut (minors do NOT interact), nsfw, university au, power imbalance, unprotected sex, dubious consent, coercion, oral sex (m. receiving), throat fucking, dacryphilia, praise kink, hair pulling, slight choking, creampie, nude photos, use of ‘good girl’, ‘baby’, and ‘sweetheart’ . ❤︎  wc: 4.4k . ❤︎  notes: hi tumblr… this is 100% a fully self indulgent fic. zero shame. i'll be posting more atz, (maybe) enha, and skz too so pls stay on the lookout if u like this! <3<3<3 also im addicted to golden hour pt3… yungis wrecking me so hard rn.

⋆˚꩜ AO3 READER? ➜ here!

𝄞  tear you apart – she wants revenge

it was eerily silent when you reached the door you’ve been dreading all day. 

the footsteps echoed a little too loud as you approached, every subtle sound amplified in the dim corridor. the building was mostly empty, a few students wandering, the university hallways frozen. you can’t tell if the chills were from the temperature or something else.

you paused in front of the door. his name was etched into the frosted glass in clean black lettering: ‘Professor Jeong’. your nerves were all over the place, legs trembling as you raised your fist to the door. you knocked once.

”come in.” he said in that familiar, soothing voice, loud enough to hear, but not a shout. you opened the creaking door, hesitating just a second before stepping inside.

he was seated behind his desk, the warm golden light from the desk lamp catching all his sharpest features. his sleeves were rolled up, only slightly past his elbows neatly. he looked so beautiful sitting there. he just looked up at you, for a little too long, saying nothing at all. 

all your friends teased you about your silly crush on him, but you felt something deeper, a strange connection to him — like an invisible string tying you to one another, bound for life. he was the perfect man: compassionate, handsome, humorous, you couldn’t help but feel instantly attracted. you came to realise it would likely never happen, considering he was your professor after all, but you wished so desperately it could. 

“take a seat.” he gestured towards the chair across from him. 

you did, clutching your bag strap as you lowered yourself into the cold chair, bag rested by your side. his eyes followed the hem of your skirt, your bare thighs against the cold leather seat. you didn’t miss it. you noticed your papers sat on his desk, all marked with a big red ‘F’. the pure shame you felt was unmeasurable.

”so,” he spoke softly, setting his pen down. “struggling are we?” 

you nodded, feeling the shame building inside of you as you look down, avoiding any and all eye contact with him. “i don’t understand what happened. i’ve been following the same methods, formatting, researching…” 

he leaned back in his chair, elbows rested on the arms of his chair and hands intertwined. “and yet, you keep failing.” 

your chest tightened. “i’m sorry sir… i don’t know what i’ve done wrong.”

he tilted his head, eyes narrowing slightly when he looked at you. “i really do hate seeing bright girls like you struggle.”

a shiver crept up your spine, goosebumps forming on your arms. you weren’t sure if it was from the cold in the room or the way he said it. the way he praised you. there was something about the way he looked at you — something predatory hidden beneath his sweet demeanour, and you were an innocent lamb. 

“i just… please… i need this scholarship. i can’t afford to lose it.” you sniffled, hoping it didn’t turn into a sob by the end of this discussion. your fingers dug into the bare skin of your thighs, clinging on to any source of comfort.  

his eyes darkened, leaving behind the once compassionate man, his expression now unreadable. “then we’ll have to find a way to get those grades back up, won’t we?” 

you blinked, frowning, teardrops gathering in your eyes. “yes. please. i’ll do anything.” 

the words slipped out before you could even think about them. his eyes flickered to yours in an instant, holding your gaze. 

“anything?” 

you swallowed. he hadn’t even raised his voice once, he never did, he never needed to, and yet something in the air had changed. 

“yes…” 

the silence remained for a while.

then he stood up, and slowly walked over towards a metal cabinet, reaching in to pull out some papers. he did it all so precisely, cautiously. even his steps were calculated as he made his way over to you. he sprawled the papers on his desk, right in front for you to see. he leaned back against the edge of the desk, arms folded across his chest as he looked down at you. his knee touched yours, and he didn’t move away. 

“you’ve always been one of my favourite students,” his gaze fixates on the papers, your previous essays, an ‘A’ circled with a small ‘Good work.’ under the grade. “always so eager. so attentive.” 

you couldn’t speak. his eyes were back on you, your little skirt, your innocent eyes. it was as though you were a locked door he already had the key to. 

“so why is it you’re failing my class?” he inquires, inching closer. 

“i-i don’t know…” 

he reached down slowly, fingers just brushing your chin. you stiffened, but didn’t pull away. 

“you don’t know?” he repeated.

the air between you was electric. his touch was light, but deliberate. you knew he shouldn’t be this close. he shouldn’t be touching you at all. but still, you didn’t move. 

“i’ve seen you looking at me.” he murmured. “do you think i wouldn’t?” 

then the trembling came. the dry mouth, lips parted, whilst he felt all morals slipping away. he wanted nothing more than to ruin you. break you. 

he leaned in closer, the feeling of his breath on your cheek. “do you know how hard it’s been? watching you come into class in those tiny skirts, feigning innocence?”

”that… wasn’t my intention, professor…” you gazed up at him, eyes wet, locked with one anothers.

he laughed, low, teasing. “then what was?”

his hand slipped to your jaw, and then your throat, his hand loosely wrapping around it — not tight, just enough to make your thighs clench instinctively. he noticed. 

“i could ruin you.” he said, voice barely above a whisper. “and you’d thank me for it.”

god you hated how much you wanted this. 

he released you just as slowly, hand falling back to the desk and pointing at your numerous papers. 

“i could fix this for you. one change in the system,” he paused. “but what would i get in return?” 

you practically freeze in that moment. the words sit with you, marinating in your mind, finally understanding what it is he wants. 

“i can’t… we… ca—“ he shushes you before you can say anything more. 

“be honest with me,” he whispered, inches from your face.

you nodded dumbly. his voice had a weight to it, teasingly dangling your scholarship over your head leaving you vulnerable, submissive — exactly what he wanted. 

“do you want to fix this?”

”y-yes…” 

“then ask me nicely.” 

your cheeks burned. “ask you… what?” 

“ask me to help you, sweetheart.” 

the contact made you dizzy, his slender hand cupping your jaw. you couldn’t think. 

“please… help me. i don’t want to fail.” you cry to him, pleading and begging. 

his eyes seem so sweet now as he looks at you, even though you know it’s all fake. “you’ll do anything to stay, won’t you now?” 

you swallowed whatever other words you were going to say. “yes.” 

he smiled. not sweetly, not an ounce of kindness in his smirk. the way a wolf might smile at its prey. 

“thought so.” 

his hand slid from your jaw, down the curve of your throat. his fingers lingered there once more, but he pressed harder this time. not too tight, but enough to make your breath catch. his other hand made way to your thighs, leaving the hem of your skirt. he tutted. 

“look how short this skirt is…” he uttered “you knew how this would end, didn’t you?” 

you shook your head, eyes pleading and welling up with tears. “n-no i didn’t… i didn’t know—“

”you mean to say this isn’t for me?” he almost sounds disappointed.

his grip tightened ever so slightly, light, but sending a message. one that reads as ‘i have all the control.’ 

“be honest. you wanted me to look. you liked it, didn’t you? sitting in the front row, desperately trying to get my attention, feeling my eyes on your thighs and pretending not to notice.” 

your thighs squeezed together involuntarily, the heat building between them unbearable. 

“i liked it…” you whisper, loud enough for him to hear.

”hm?”

you couldn’t look him in the eyes. “i… liked it.” 

his thumb pressed against your pulse. “look at me.” and you did just that. 

once you looked up you saw it: hunger. desperation. the loss of control in the way he looked at you, like he was starving. 

“you’ve been so good,” he murmured, finally releasing your throat as his other hand lay still on your thigh. “coming to me like this. all shy. vulnerable.” he caresses your thigh whilst leaning into your face. 

“you want me to change that grade?”

you nodded eagerly.

”then get on your knees, baby.” he demands, stern and unmoving. “show me how much you want this.” 

the words went straight through you, like you’d been shot in the heart in the best way possible. you stood on shaking legs before hesitantly lowering yourself in front of him. your knees hit the cold office floor. you look up, and he was already looking at you, like you were is newest addiction. he always had this unreadable expression, nobody knew how he was feeling, not even you. he undid his belt slowly. teasingly. his voice stayed calm, but the lust beneath it was impossible to miss.

“my perfect student.” he breathed, combing his fingers through your hair. you were his. undeniably his — to ruin, to corrupt and break. your knees were pressed to the cold floorboards, the act feeling so wrong in this quiet space. his scent was everywhere now — cologne, leather, arousal. above you, he simply smirked, a soft, sweet smile to anyone else. but to you, it was because he owned you. 

“open that pretty mouth, baby.” 

and you did. his hand tangled in your hair, gathering it all in one as he unzipped his trousers, pulling you closer and pulling himself out without shame. he was already hard, thick and swollen, and absolutely not gentle as he patted the head of his cock against your parted lips. you underestimated how big he was. 

“stick out your tongue,” he said, voice a low demand. 

you obeyed, eyes already watering. 

“i love how obedient you are when desperate,” he smirked, a devilish grin. “on your knees, crying with a cock down your throat for a grade.” 

you winced, crying even more as the shame made your thighs press tighter. 

“don’t pretend you dont love it.” he groaned, pushing forward into your mouth, dragging his dick across your tongue like he was trying to leave a mark. “you’ve wanted this since the first time you saw me.” 

then he shoved deeper, a tight grip in your hair forcing you down on him, hitting the back of your throat as he stuffs your mouth full of him, an involuntary gag coming from you with your hands flying to his thighs for support. 

“good girl,” he hissed, pulling your hair tighter, making sure you don’t go anywhere. he wants to savour this moment, the moment he breaks an innocent girl. “take all of it… let me see you cry for me.” 

tears spilled fast, your throat tightening around him as you choke. you could have tried pulling away, but you didn’t want to. every erotic noise, every humiliating word that came out of his mouth, and yet you still didn’t push back. the room echoed every lewd sound, spit bubbling, muffled coughs and splutters, the loud gasp for air you let out when he finally let you. he pulled out with a wet pop, a string of saliva connecting your lips to the tip of his cock. you coughed and gasped for air, mouth agape. 

“look at you,” he whispered, pulling your hair to look up at him. you looked at him through blurred eyes, tears masking whatever heinous expression he was making. “a fucking mess already…” 

he slapped his cock against your wet, red cheek, once or twice as he watched the next tear fall down your face. he talks to you like you were inferior to him — less than.

he pushed back in with far more force, zero mercy when it came down to you, forcing himself down your throat with a groan as he started fucking your mouth in rough, rhythmic thrusts. he knew you couldn’t breathe, but he didn’t care. you clawed at his thighs, nails digging hard enough to leave marks through his trousers. the moans and chokes coming out of you helped him all the more, encouraging him to speed up, fuck harder and faster into your mouth. the front of your grey sweater had turned dark, covered in drool and spit. you were too far gone at this point.

”cry for me, sweetheart.” he groaned in a low, raspy voice. “let me see you. see what a mess i’ve made out of such a beautiful girl.” 

the tears didn’t stop, throat burning as he filled the empty space with himself, but your panties were getting wetter by the minute. your thighs squirm, wet and needy. 

“you don’t need good grades,” he spat, tilting his head back before looking back down at you with pity in his eyes. “you need to learn how to take dick like a good girl.” 

he fucked into you as hard as possible, with no remorse and absolutely zero shame. he knew it was completely wrong to have a relationship with one of his students, to treat one this way, if anyone found out, he’d surely be fired on the spot.

especially if they knew he was failing you on purpose.

the other students were uninterested, obnoxious. but you? you were special. you craved his attention, focused on every word he spoke, watched attentively at every move he made. so, he had to do something to get some time alone with you. he found only one solution; and you fell for it completely. now kneeled before him, letting him use and abuse you, a man you hardly know anything about. 

why can’t this moment just last forever?

you winced around him, mascara smeared and tears streaming, and he couldn’t stop looking down at you — like you were the most magnificent mess he had ever seen. despite all his words, you truly were breathtaking. he might tease and insult, but there was no one quite like yourself. he couldn’t believe his plan had worked so well.

“my perfect girl… fuck…” he moaned, tilting his head back and shoving himself all the way down your throat with no room to breathe. he never wanted to let you go, to stay like this forever, you look so perfect with his cock down your throat, face red and blotchy. you could only oblige, wanting to do anything to please him. his hands gripped the back of your head, fully taking advantage of your throat, leaving bruises for later so that when you think of them you think of him. “fuck— you’re doing so well for me sweetheart.” 

then he pulled out again suddenly, spit dripping down your chin. you filled your lungs as quickly as you could, coughing and gasping for breath, holding your throat to soothe yourself. then he kneeled before you, combing your dampened hair back behind your ear, with a gentleness that shouldn’t be there.

”look at me…” he cupped your face with his other free hand, holding you gently. 

you did as you were told, gazing up at him with those big, watery eyes of yours. 

“you’d do anything for me, wouldn’t you?” 

without hesitation you nodded, eager to do whatever he says. 

“good girl.” he spoke so softly, too softly. his hand found your hair again, entangling his fingers in amongst it all, his other hand cupping your face gently as he pulled you up from the office floor, your legs trembling. 

for the first time, he kissed you. a sloppy kiss with nothing but desperation and lust — greed alongside it. he wanted more, far more than he originally planned. in an instant, he pushed your back up against the desk like it was nothing, arching as you clung onto the edge. he pressed up to you, breaking away from the kiss to whisper in your ear. 

“bend over the desk for me, will you?” it sounded much like a request, but nothing about it was. it was a demand, disguised as an offer. his calming voice made it worse. 

of course you obeyed. even if you could say no, you know you wouldn’t. you stretch across the desk, pounding chest pressed into the cold wood. he ran a hand underneath your skirt and up your thigh, fingers teasing at your underwear before he rolled your skirt up to sit just above your ass. he ran a finger between your clothed folds, shamefully soaked. 

“fuck,” he laughed, low and almost cruel, yet pleased. “this wet already? you liked choking on my dick that much?” 

he pulled your panties to the side, slipping two fingers in without warning, a loud moan escaping your lips before he shut you up with his other hand. 

“come on baby… we can’t be too loud.” he breathed down your neck, pulling you up and arching your back further, his other hand fucking in and out of you slowly, painfully slowly. “god you’re so fucking tight. it’s almost a shame to ruin you.” 

he was lying. there was no shame in what he was doing, or what he felt towards you. there was no way to describe it other than complete lust, addiction maybe. your moans were muffled by his hand, unable to contain them as he split you open with just his fingers. 

he pulled his fingers out so suddenly, pulling your panties down to sit at your knees, leaving you a sopping wet mess all over his desk. your breath came in shallow gasps as you tried to prepare yourself. he placed one hand on the small of your back, holding you down — right where he wanted you. 

“god, look at this view.” his voice was driving you insane, deep and calming as he praised you. you felt his fingers graze your thighs again, spreading your legs wider and just admiring what he owned. 

the shock that hit when you felt him, teasing you with the head of his cock at your entrance, was a feeling you’ll never forget. sliding his tip through the slick between your folds with slow, deliberate strokes. he wasn’t in a rush, making this all the more perfect and somehow worse. he wanted to savour the moment. savour you.

uncontrollable moans came out of your mouth as he pushed into you, inch by inch until he bottomed out, staying there momentarily. you winced and gasped, nails scratching at the wooden surface for some sort of comfort to grab onto. he stretched you in the best way, forcing your walls to adjust to the shape of him. he leaned down and whispered into your ear, pulling you up by the hair to make sure you hear him.

“you take me all so well baby…” he groaned, tugging your hair so hard it was enough to make you wince out, breath hot against your cheek. “you like this? you like letting me use you, huh?” 

“yes… please — fuck — give me more…” 

he hissed as he pulled out and thrusted back in immediatly with a snap of his hips. you choked a moan, brains scrambled as he set a rough rhythm, brutal but precise. his fingers curled tighter in your hair as he fucked you faster.

“that’s right, take every inch…” his voice was so calming for a situation like this, soothing. your body jolted with every thrust in, his cock hitting so deep it made you dizzy. he kept your head held back, arched perfectly for him, his free hand sliding to grip your throat again. 

“so fucking good for me,” he murmured, soft and gentle. “so pretty with your face soaked in tears.” 

you hadn’t stopped crying — was it shame? disappointment? pure bliss? who’s to say, but you couldn’t get enough of him. he made you feel so good, the length, the pace, the praise, like you were his favourite sin. you cried for him more, face wet with your own tears as more streamed down.

”there she is,” he praised. “my perfect pupil. no one else gets to see you like this, nobody but me.” 

he pulled you back further until you were arched into him, face looking back to lock eyes with his. there was nothing but lust in his eyes, not love. lust. pure desire and desperation, determined to keep you his forever. 

“stay mine forever… please…” for once he begged. not pitiful, possessive. your knees almost buckled until he caught you, arm around your waist to hold you in place while he fucked you through it. you felt so oddly secure, safe in his arms as he slammed into you. you felt deserving of this, like you had earned it, you were the professors favourite after all.

”you hear how wet you are for me?” he breathed into your ear, kissing up and down your neck any chance he got, leaving behind dark bruises on your delicate skin. the sound of your bodies, lewd and obscene, echoed throughout the office. he wanted you to be quiet but couldn’t stay quiet himself, not when he thought you were the most perfect girl for him.

”sounds like you’ve been waiting for this moment, huh?” 

“i— fuck! — i have…” you spoke through broken moans, the desk shaking by this point, scraping across the floor, everything falling off. you spotted your papers, scrunched a bit and messied from the fallout. it reminded you why you were there, because of those essays. your eyes flickered to the ‘Good work.’ on one of your best papers, and couldn’t believe that is where this all started. your little teacher crush, now fucking into you with so much force you wont be able to walk into class tomorrow. 

“you make me so proud, baby,” he was right next to your ear, exhausted breathing breaking the words apart. “giving me everything i want, letting me fuck you so deep…” 

a high-pitched moan escaped your lips as he spoke, followed by his hand over your mouth once again, shutting you up for the time being. a part of you wanted someone to overhear, grow envious of your position, but the shame you felt stopped you. suddenly his thrusts slowed, just enough to let you feel every inch of him inside of you, his cock shaping your walls. 

“i want you to remember this,” he moaned out with every thrust. “everytime you sit in my class, you’ll think of what happened here.” 

you moaned into his hand with every movement from him, eyes watering and legs trembling. his mouth found your shoulder, kissing along it, nibbling at some points as his hand dropped from your mouth. you tried to contain your own moans until he pushed so deep into you his name came out in a low, soft whisper — not ‘sir’, or ‘professor’, his name, a trembling moan that sounded like a prayer. 

he slammed into you again, faster this time, breathing heavy, your words having flipped a switch in his brain. his grip tightened on your hip, using your body like it belonged to him. 

“you gonna let me cum inside, beautiful?” 

“y-yes… need it — i need you,” 

and that was all the confirmation he needed. he groaned, loud, deep, fucking you through it. his thrusts were sharp, hips smashing into yours until he came, cock twitching deep inside you as he buried himself to the hilt.

he stood there for a moment, his body up against yours, breathing heavily, hand still intertwined in your hair, his other digging his nails into your hip. and then, so softly, he spoke:

”my perfect student...”

you didn’t move. you couldn’t. just stayed there, slumped over his desk, his cum dripping from your aching cunt, reddened cheeks still wet from your tears. your body trembled for so long after he pulled out. 

you didn’t even hear his hand move, the subtle sound of fabric shifting and the unmistakable click. you flinched slightly from the unexpected noise.

”don’t tense baby,” his hand stroked your ass, still on full display for his perfect photo. “just stay like that for me, i want to remember you like this.”

you flinched as his thumb spread your folds, the camera clicking once more.

”god, look at that.” he spoke in a low whisper. “my perfect mess, stretched and leaking.”

his praise made your heart flutter, even now as you are laid spread on his desk, at your most vulnerable, a shy smile on your face.

“you took it so well, baby.” his fingers traced your spine, tingling from where he grazed. “just to keep that scholarship.”

he leaned down, voice brushing your ear. “to keep me happy.”

you whimpered as he spoke, unintelligble words, but he was already reaching down to pull your panties back into place, useless now really. he fixed your skirt, pulling it back down and handling you with such care. there wasn’t much to do about your sweater, covered in sweat and drool. he was now facing you, hands rested on your hips. 

“take this off lovely,” his fingers tugged at the bottom of your sweater, pulling it off of you, leaving you with nothing but a black tank top. “still just as beautiful.” 

you can’t tell if his words were genuine, but you couldn’t care less. his hands cupped your face, your eyes blank and dazed.

”still with me sweetheart?” he was so sweet now, the sudden change in his voice so different from him earlier. you nodded, looking up at him with puppy eyes. he smiled at that, proudly.

”you did so fucking well.” his thumb grazed your cheek, providing an ounce of comfort. “so pretty when you cry.” 

you blinked at him, lips parted and eyes glossed over, like in a trance. his lips touched your forehead, an act of love — but here? it was anything but. 

your legs trembled as you began to move away, smiling at him so sweetly, innocently. 

“next time,” his voice hushed, his body still close to yours. he smirked at you “don’t be late tomorrow, maybe if we have a spare 15 minutes…”

you nod.

maybe you’ll show up an hour early instead.

[kirilunimimi]

Between Loads | J.YH

SUMMARY | You hate doing laundry but maybe your next door neighbor, Yunho, can make it worth your time.

PAIRINGS |  Yunho x Reader 

RATING |  Mature, NSFW, EXPLICIT, MDNI, 18+, Any Minors and Ageless Blogs will be blocked

GENRE |  smut, pwp, romance, neighbors to lovers, fluff

CONTENT/WARNINGS | the 6th floor has creepy crawlies (but nothing really happens), profanity, flirting, teasing, unprotective sex (wrap it up ya'll), oral sex (both m/f receiving/giving), dirty talk, laundry jokes, just jokes all around, kissing, skin marking, skin biting, hair pulling, fingering, multiple positions, creampies, breeding/impregnation kink 

LENGTH |  7,004 words 

TAGLIST |  @aerangi   

NETWORKS |  @illusionnet  @cromernet  @othersideoutlawsnetwork  @winerys-collection  @cosyhomenet  @keopihaus  @ksmutsociety  @k-vanity 

AUTHOR’S NOTE | Thank you @pars-ley for the banner! I love it so much 💛💚 and thank you @lovetaroandtaemin and @heartikeu for beta-reading the beginning of the fic. And now she is completed! On another note, Yunho. Goddamn Yunho.

ATEEZ Main Masterlist

You hate doing laundry in this ever busy apartment building. Since it's late Saturday morning, all of the washers on the first floor have been preempted by people doing laundry to start their day. It'll take ages before a washing machine opens up, and you know that if you stick around, you're likely to have a load ruined from the little kids running about.

You wish management would provide folks with their own laundry hookups like they had with the dishwashers and stoves. Having one in your apartment would be heavenly. Instead, you have to head down several floors to the laundry room and then wait for God-only-knows how long for the damn machines to free up. The faster you could get in and out, the better off you would be.

"Maybe I'll go up to the sixth floor and use the laundry there?" you muse aloud as you pack away the rest of your clothes into your hamper. "But... Ugh, if it's not one thing, it's another!"

You normally avoid the sixth floor laundry room unless there are no machines available on the first, simply because you don't want the hassle of going into the hornets' nest. With the halls of the sixth floor filled with majority men for some odd reason, you want to avoid any harassment in the communal laundry room. You doubt very much whether they could keep their hands to themselves if you had no protection.

"Why must I face this annoyance?!" you yell as you storm down to the elevator with your basket. "It's a hassle, but, fine! Just this once! But, if they try to grab my butt or something, I'm punching someone! They better believe it!"

Armed with enough detergent and soap, you find the communal laundry room a touch more empty than your norm. With less folks around, maybe it will mean a quick load and not much trouble? The thought crosses your mind, but in reality, you know otherwise. 

"You're here too, Y/N?" Your next door neighbor, Yunho, pokes his head out of the open washer as you set the hamper down. "You're not usually here on the sixth floor."

"It's crowded and annoying downstairs," you state. "I don't usually come up here because of the jerks that are on this floor, but desperate times and all of that nonsense."

"Yeah, this floor is crawling with creeps," he agrees.

"I'd love having a washer and dryer set-up in my place. Then I could avoid places like this."

Yunho continues working on loading up his washer, though, you catch his sly glances as you begin sorting things into the next available washers. "Until then, let me know when you do laundry and I'll come up and wash. I promise to help deter the creepy-crawlies."

You can't help but laugh at his offer. "All right, fine. Thanks, I guess." You pushed the last of the clothes into your washer and slammed the lid down. "We'll see how it goes."

How many years have you known Yunho? How long did he live next door to you on the fourth floor? It's been a few years already... Maybe three? Maybe four? Enough that you feel you're used to seeing him, even with his incredibly handsome features, every now and again.

He is very easy on the eyes. Almost a bit too perfect. Tall, with a bright smile, nice arms, and toned thighs... what you would give to climb him like a tree and—

Nope!

No, stop, don't start thinking dirty. Bad Y/N. Bad, dirty brain. Stop perving on Yunho, now.

You glanced up at his bright smile, and turned back to the washing machines. Oh no. It was a sinfully sinful thing to imagine the many ways Yunho might kiss your neck, those hands pushing up your shirt and—

You have to shake your head before things get out of hand. This isn't the time or place to have these kinds of thoughts. The sooner your laundry is done, the sooner you can get back down to your own floor and hide your face behind the closed doors and take care of certain... urges that are beginning to surface.

But as you glance back up at Yunho, seeing him leaning over his own washer as he puts the last of his loads in, a heat pools in the pit of your belly. What you wouldn't do to have him fuck you over one of the washers or against the folding table in the middle of the room. Oh no, there was no mistaking how good and strong those arms would feel wrapped around you, thrusting inside you and whispering in your ear.

Bad... bad thoughts... You don't need this right now. No, you do not need the added strain of Yunho's visuals causing such fantasies. Nope, nope. Don't start, you're getting too worked up thinking about it, stop. You bite down on your lower lip, eyes staring a hole into the washer before you.

"Y/N? Everything all right?" Yunho leans over his washer and peers at you. "You seem distracted."

Oh, how sweet a distraction... If Yunho would shut his mouth, that might make things go easier, right? Shut the door, lock us both in here for hours, and let loose? "I'm fine," you blurt out, flinging a hand towards him. "Just hate waiting for laundry to do its job."

"Sounds like you need something else to take your mind off it. Porn always helps me get through chores faster."

A strange noise escapes your throat, something between a retch and a wheeze. Your entire face flushes darkly, and you rub your palms against your cheeks. "What?!"

"That was a joke," he chuckled.

"Don't say shit like that," you groan. "Especially in a public space. Like seriously, who knows when some other crazy neighbor will walk through those doors?"

"Yeah, no, good point." Yunho nods, and you can’t help but laugh along with him. "How long did you put in to wash those?"

"Just a medium load. So... Half an hour. Probably 35 minutes," you answer. "Then, another half an hour to dry. Can't get out too fast, else I might forget stuff."

Yunho hits a button on his washer and leans his hip against the top of it, making an audible clicking sound from his tongue. "Wanna go for a walk around while we wait? Might help take our minds off chores for a while. And it'll keep those jerkfaces down here from bugging you."

"Sure, why the hell not."

As you two wander the halls, you're somewhat surprised how not creepy everything is. Yunho is, like always, a pleasure to speak with as the two of you trade gossip, funny stories, and daily happenings. This time, however, you focus a bit too much on his lips moving, the curve of his smile, and the soft laugh that breaks the quiet air. Your mind flitters and keeps drifting back to thoughts of that moment, imagining how it would feel.

Fuck, his lips look soft.

That's it.

Yunho's lips are full and plush looking. Very soft. Probably the best kissing lips that a man could possess, even in such a harsh looking face. They practically beg to be devoured. The kind of lips you could easily imagine sliding against your body with ease, tasting each and every inch, and then engulfing you whole.

Fuck.

Even with Yunho talking animatedly, you can't pull your focus away. The urge to steal his lips in a kiss overcame you.

It can't hurt.

"Shit, I want to kiss you."

Or, it might hurt. A lot, in fact, considering Yunho's steps falter, and he almost face plants into the wall. He looks at you with wild, confused eyes. "What?!"

"Shit," you close your eyes and slap your mouth a few times, "shit shit shit, sorry. My stupid mouth. Ignore that." You swallow hard and turn to walk down the stairs, a shameful blush staining your face. "Yeah, just forget all about that. Me saying that. Yeah, good plan."

Yunho watches your hasty retreat, following after with a renewed lightness in his steps. "W-Wait. That's it?"

You reach the sixth floor landing, Yunho still trailing behind you as you head towards the communal laundry. "I am a dumb idiot that blurts things like that out without thinking. Forget I even said anything, please."

"Hey," he laughs as he takes hold of your wrist, stopping your stride to his laundry room, "you can't just say something like that and expect a man to completely forget it!"

"Yes. Yes I can," you assure him. "So, you will."

He laughs again as he follows after. "Absolutely not."

"Yunho, please." You pull out of his grasp and make your way back into the laundry room where only one person sits waiting at the folding table for their dryer to finish its cycle. "I just want to die in a hole. Or the void. Yeah, the void sounds great. I want nothing more than to leave this stupid galaxy and just fade into the vacuum of space."

"Why, though?" he asks.

You open up your washer and quickly begin taking items to toss them into the dryers. "Because... I just... Ugh. I mean." You groan and hide your face against the metal lid of a dryer. "Please, it's embarrassing enough that you had to witness and hear that, you really don't want to know why."

Yunho, not backing down from this new information, leans against his own washer, studying your flushed face. "Why, though?"

"Because..."

He seems to notice your hesitance. "Come on. I won't make fun of you."

You hang your head a moment, taking a breath and holding it as you wait to feel calm again. But, when you exhale, there’s no changing the facts. He isn’t letting it go. "Ugh, you're gonna laugh."

"Maybe. Maybe not." His gentle smile makes your heart skip a beat. "Try me."

You let out another long suffering sigh. "You've just... Always looked like you'd be really good at it. Kissing. And," you continue when he starts to chuckle, "you've always been so friendly and helpful. That, uh, it gets a girl's thoughts going... A-And... S-Sorry."

He bites back his laughter as best he can, cheeks pinkened with delight. "Don't apologize, not for something like this."

"Please," you turn around, your face burning in complete embarrassment.

Yunho notices that the two of you are the only ones remaining in the laundry room, save the lone lady reading. A risky play, but perhaps there isn't any better of an option. As the woman's dryer buzzes, she gathers her things, leaving the room without hardly noticing either of you. The risk is certainly real.

"You still wanna kiss me?" Yunho's grin turns down right mischievous. "Because I gotta say... Now you've got me kinda curious, too."

You stare at him blankly. "Seriously?"

"C'mon." His voice is low and raspy, turning your legs to jelly as he approaches and takes hold of your elbows. "Nobody's around. Give it a shot. Just once."

Fuck he smells amazing. Is that aftershave? You don't know. You can't tell what scent it is, but you don't want to leave the safe cocoon his arms provide.

"J-Just once," you mumble, feeling yourself sinking into his body.

"Just once," he murmurs.

Yunho's thumb glides along your cheek before his fingers run over the shell of your ear and his palm rests gently on your jawline. He shifts and ducks slightly, his eyes drifting closed as the world fades to just you and him.

Warm, gentle lips meet, yours and your heart begins to thunder violently. Slowly, tenderly, his fingers curl around your jaw, encouraging you to follow his lead, coaxing a pleased noise to slip free. The rush of warm desire floods you, and the desire to melt against his solid frame nearly consumes you whole.

Just a simple press of lips, a taste, and just a hint of tongue that nearly drives you mad, and it leaves you wanting nothing more than more. All the build up and heat culminates into a blazing fire that courses through you.

The heavy breathing, the ragged needy moans that spilled free—did they come from your mouth or his? Did they matter, really? This wasn't enough. You wanted more, even as his teeth scraped across your lower lip, his touch and kiss sending you further into oblivion.

Until the buzz of the dryer brings you crashing back to the real world.

Both of you draw back, lips barely touching as the loud buzz of the machine interrupts your world. A sluggish, sheepish laugh is shared as you part, moving to the machines. Yunho drops down onto a chair with a smirk still tinged with a deep crimson across his cheeks as you fold clothes, still working out the embarrassment and slight afterglow you experienced.

"So?" He asks softly as he hands off folded items to you. "Thoughts?"

"Need a few more tries to confirm," you answer just as softly. "You know, so I can give an accurate review."

He laughs, taking his own clothes out of the dryer to fold. "Wouldn't want a biased opinion now."

"Mmhm, exactly."

After finishing folding up the clothing, the two of you make your way back upstairs to your shared floor, teasing and poking, giving and stealing lingering, awkward glances along the way.

It isn't until you parted ways with an airy promise for another "chore" session together that a revelation dawned upon you.

It would be so very easy to fall completely in love with Jeong Yunho.

Yunho stayed true to his words to accompany you in the laundry room on the sixth floor, sneaking in kisses each time, leaving you wanting so much more each time. It was a fun, little secret shared just between you two. And then, eventually, it bled into other things. Like going on dates, a shared couch cuddle and a good movie, maybe an evening of food delivery, stolen glances, and hand holding. You met his friends, he met your friends, more dates came afterward, and then he became your boyfriend.

Yunho managed to convince the building's management to let him get a washer and dryer combination inside the apartment instead of having to trudge a bunch of floors down or up to the laundromat. What a plus. Now, not only could you easily wash a load or two, but you and Yunho could easily watch movies while you waited for everything to wash, dry, and fold.

You were sitting in your apartment one night after putting your clean clothes away, when a knock sounded on your door. You padded over and cracked it open, Yunho looking back at you from the doorway with an impish smirk.

"I think some of your clothes got mixed in with mine," he says, raising one of your lacy panties up as if to display it. "Looks like a pretty important thing for you to get back."

"My, my, Yunho. You sure you didn't just stuff it into your own hamper to bring over under the pretense of 'oopsies' and 'drats, how did these get mixed in?'"

He laughs and shoulders his way into your apartment, the front door shutting behind him with a kick of a foot. "Geez, you got me figured out! Don't expose me!"

Your shared laughter fills your tiny apartment as he picks you up and tosses you on your own bed, a huge goofy grin on his face.

"By all means, please steal away my panties if you wish."

"Oh? Should I get the matching bra too? Make it a matching set?"

"A truly insidious master plot!" You laugh. "What else do you plan to get while you're in my place?"

Yunho steals a sweet kiss and shrugs. "Figured a few kisses would make me feel better, and maybe borrow a girl in lacy undergarments?" He nibbles a bit on your throat. "Only if she doesn't mind."

"Hmm, fine, I guess you can steal away the goods," you murmur, tracing over his lips. "But, you know, the price of a kiss like that is really high. Might even need a couple."

"Are we bartering kisses for your lovely underwear?"

"Yes."

"Then, let's see."

The two of you hold one another, laughing in between long, drawn out kisses. Each kiss grows longer, deeper, and sweeter than the last, and soon, a hot need for something more than innocent kisses begins to consume you. Yunho's touches are soft, tender, and all-consuming, a strange mix of heady lust and gentle caresses that send a rush of adrenaline into your heart. You slip your hands under the bottom hem of his shirt, pushing it up to feel his heated flesh under the tips of your fingers. His back, his broad chest, the muscles under his skin, you want nothing more than to explore every single inch of him.

"Your kisses have gotten very... demanding... lately." Yunho's chest vibrates with his laugh.

"Oh?"

He nips your shoulder, dragging his lips along your flesh. "You keep kissing and kissing and then you bite and suck on my lips, like you don't plan to give me a chance to breathe again."

"Hmm. You don't seem to dislike it, do you?" Your fingers begin unbuttoning his shirt, fingertips scraping against his skin with a delightful friction.

"Absolutely not," his laugh is soft and husky, sending your heart into overdrive and leaving the world behind as his mouth begins mapping every single inch of your exposed skin. "But," he stops long enough to tear his shirt free from his shoulders and fling it aside, "it's awfully greedy of you."

You snort a giggle. "M-Maybe. But," you suck in a shaky breath as he licks up the side of your throat, "I'm not hearing complaints!"

"Not complaining at all." His hand fans out on your thigh, stroking upward, leaving an excited trail of heat wherever he touches, causing you to let out a heady gasp. He laughs breathily against your skin, "Only that," he hooks his thumb around the waistband of your shorts and tugs lightly, "I'm very happy that my girlfriend," the buttons were freed, zipper and all, "enjoys," he presses kisses against your thighs, "a man who puts a little bite into her kisses."

Yunho slips your shorts from your legs, tossing them onto the floor with a growing pile of clothes. When you both laugh at the realization that you were nearly naked, leaving only a lace bralette and matching panties, he can't help but bite your thigh. His tongue laps at the faint red spot, and he grins up at you. "Looks really pretty on you."

"Pretty, hmm?"

"It's definitely something a beautiful girl like you wears and a man like me wants to take off her." Yunho runs a finger up and along the underside of your bare leg, tracing along your shape, the pressure causing your entire body to twitch. "Unless the gorgeous lady says I can't take it off..."

"It means more laundry for me," you giggle.

He hums and gently kisses your knees. "True... But then... I wouldn't mind doing your laundry with mine next time, would that be acceptable?"

"Hmm, I dunno..." you pull his head down towards yours and nuzzle his nose, "what would my hot neighbor slash boyfriend want as payment for doing my laundry?"

"Mmmm," he nibbles at the plumpness of your lips and chases your breathless laughter, "you." He bends lower and kisses the swell of your breasts as he whispers, "All of you."

The sound that rips from your lungs is deep, and wanting, and more than pleased with his words. "Keep talking like that," you laugh against the crook of his neck. "Because I might actually fucking marry you."

His full body laugh causes the mattress to sink and move. "I didn't realize marriage was on your mind. Is that the way to your heart?"

"Oh fuck yeah. Completely. Marry me, we'll have four dogs, and three kids."

"Just like that?"

"Sure, fuck why not."

There's another bright peal of laughter from him as he sinks down on top of your naked flesh. "Shall we call the preacher before or after you give me my next kiss?"

"Dirty, filthy proposal. You're despicable." You groan and thread your fingers through his hair.

"Can't believe you'd consider marrying a guy who has only kissed you in laundry rooms," he murmurs in between long, dizzying kisses. "What is the world coming to?"

You let out a small laugh. "Yeah, it's awful, isn't it?"

"Jokes aside..." Yunho kisses his way down your throat, your chest, across your ribcage, and against the skin under your breasts, his words sending shivers up your spine, "Would you want to have dinner, spend more time together outside of the laundry rooms? Maybe go on dates?"

Your arms wind tighter around him, and your laugh is sharp. "Mmm, y'know what?" Your palm gently runs across his forehead, brushing away his messy bangs as you catch a hold of his full attention. "I'd like that. A lot, actually."

"Yeah?" The smile on Yunho's face grows wide and radiant.

"Yeah," you laugh, "and now I want you to show me how talented you really are with those lips."

He hums happily, the sound rumbling against you. "And what exactly shall my gorgeous neighbor ask of me in that area? Keep it civil."

"How about..." you muse quietly, tugging your bra down a bit to expose a hard nub of a nipple to the air of the room, "how about a kiss here."

"This isn't very civil." Yunho's nose runs over the upper portion of the breast. "But if the lady asks..."

"Mmmm, and one right here..." You drag the hem of your panties a bit lower on your hip. "A kiss."

Yunho, understanding where your game is headed, playfully takes the lacy hem in his teeth, dragging it down to expose a tuft of trimmed pubic hair before releasing it and resting his cheek on your bare thigh. "Where does my demanding little neighbor slash girlfriend want kisses now?"

"Hm..." you tap your chin and point downwards at a spot that he finds to be utterly delectable and beautiful. "I can think of one other spot for a kiss."

"Yeah?" His breath whispers across sensitive skin, tickling and sending you spiraling into heady excitement.

"Y-yeah..." your words are barely a whisper. "Gotta say... Kinda looking forward to it."

"Happy to indulge you."

And as Yunho drags the rest of your panties free from your legs, his mouth begins a thorough worship and appreciation of the most intimate area of your body. The squeals and gasps he could wring out of you, your hands clenching his hair and the sound of his name falls from your lips with abandon spurs him on until there is nothing left in his head but pure desire to hear you cum and cry out for him.

Out of all the men that ate you out in the past, none comes close to the skills of Jeong Yunho. The others were rough, amateur, quick and wanting. Yunho took his time, savored every reaction and gasp that came. There is no need or urgency or even demand in his motions. Every touch, flick, lick, kiss, and stroke of his tongue are in total control.

Your thighs clamps against Yunho's head, holding him there, begging him to never stop with soft pleads of 'don't you dare fucking stop.' He chuckles as he gently grasps your wrists, encouraging your hands to hold on tight to his head. And when his long fingers joins in, pressing into every spot that sends an electric pulse running up and down your nerves, there was little doubt that the world stopped spinning and nothing existed but him.

Lips, tongue, and two fingers dance across your center, plunging and withdrawing until everything begins to blur into one continuous pleasure. Before long, there is nothing to stop the moans and keening wails from escaping into the quiet evening as the rush of climax exploded into ecstasy and absolute joy.

Through it all, Yunho remains between your legs, happily drinking everything you gave.

"You," you manage after the rush and joy, your voice hoarse and raw, "have one hell of a tongue on you. I mean, I already knew it was talented," his shoulders move with soft laughter, "but fuck, I could've used you a long ass time ago."

Yunho emerged between your legs, a silly smirk dancing on his lips. "Good to know I can be of some service to my demanding girlfriend. Need a breather? Or more?"

You laugh, pulling his face up so that you can reach his lips, relishing in the taste of his tongue and your pleasure mixed on them, "Oh, definitely more but I can wait after dinner."

Yunho chuckles at this. "I'm kind of regretting the order this happened, because now I'm too curious to take a raincheck for dinner and just jump straight to dessert."

"You say this as though you weren't just finishing devouring me whole, just a minute ago?" You run a fingertip along his lips. "I wouldn't have any complaints whatsoever. Besides," you move and kiss his throat, licking and nibbling a line up along the soft skin and under his jaw, "I'm looking forward to returning the favor."

He sighs softly at this and hums in thought. "You," he laughs and kisses your sweaty brow, "you know what? Dinner can wait. After."

"Yes, after," you giggle softly as you crawl down his body, eagerly unfastening his belt and pants, and helping him tug the rest of his remaining clothes free. Your lips trail up his knee, along his inner thigh, and then across the other to do the same. "Dinner can wait. Dessert, on the other hand..." You glance up at him and catch a glimpse of his fully erect cock. "Can not."

Fuck, he's big. And you will savor every damn inch of him.

Yunho settles back, propped up slightly by pillows, his fingers combing your hair idly out of your face. "Have at it, my lovely, greedy little neighbor." There was another sharp, surprised gasp from you, accompanied by a laugh, and a groan of 'you did not just call me that'. To which he responds with a soft laugh, "Okay, my little girlfriend."

Your jaw tingles and you shiver at the way his title rolled off of his tongue. "That one works a lot better," you giggle, your teeth scraping along his length, the muscles on his legs jumping.

A rush of heady lustful pride floods your system and you shiver, eager and greedy and hungry for what Yunho would have to offer you. As your mouth wraps around him, his head falls back and his mouth opens with a soft sigh. His fingers didn't stray from your hair and he helps push it back off your face to watch in rapt wonder. You felt your body flush hotter and hotter, a thrill coursing through your core as your gaze met his.

God he's fucking perfect.

Your hand cup his balls gently, rolling them tenderly and watching the way he sucks his bottom lip inwards, the softest whine in the back of his throat. You lick along the length, tasting and testing and relishing in the feeling. The hard length and gentle flesh in your hands, the warmth of his body, it was everything.

When his hips begin jerking and bucking a little, you allow your throat to relax. Yunho watch in quiet fascination and pleasure. "You'll tell me if it's too much, yeah?"

"I got this," you smile and hold his erection still while taking him completely into the recesses of your mouth. Your tongue laps along his girth, tracing the thick vein on his underside, tracing it, flicking, and pressing with each inch. Yunho's breathing hitches sharply, a low rasping groan leaving his throat as his eyes nearly roll into the back of his head.

"Enjoying yourself?" you ask, not entirely expecting an answer.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" Yunho laughs, voice husky and spent and rough.

"Oh, I'm fucking living my dreams," you hum, bending over once again. "I could go all night."

Yunho laughs at your enthusiasm, and you continue lavishing him, wet and warm and insatiable in your hunger. Long fingers in your hair, the heavy weight of his length, the scent, and taste of his own sweat, your desire and want for him never burned so brightly in your veins. It didn't matter that your jaw began aching, that your thighs and core ache for his touch. You couldn't stop, you wouldn't.

A breathless "close" warns you and you take him deeper into the warm cavern of your mouth. Your body responds hotly, growing so moist with longing and heady excitement, and an eager ache. The next series of soft, sloppy noises you pull out of him only brought you closer and closer to orgasm. He tense, his length grew harder, thicker in your mouth. You held fast, welcoming the sticky cum splashing over your tongue and coating the back of your throat.

Slowly, you lift your head up and meet his gaze. Carefully, you swallow, knowing how he tasted and how your body was absolutely aching for his. With a smile you slowly crawl upwards. "So?" you ask breathlessly. "Good review?"

"Four. Fucking. Stars."

"Ooh, nice. Would you recommend?"

"Hell fucking yes I'd recommend that mouth. Sign me the fuck up, yes," he let out another breathy laugh and kiss your chest, "fuck yes. Over, and over, and over again. It's fucking gold, baby."

"Excellent," you giggle and cup his face in your palms. "Wanna recommend other things now? I got an appointment that's open and willing and totally empty if you wanna recommend."

Yunho's arms wound around your waist and flip you onto your back with another sweet kiss. "Wish granted, babe."

The months that followed, and the time spent, left nothing to chance. By the end of it all, the laundry was more than folded, there were a lot of meals cooked between both apartments, movies had been seen and many, many dates were had. You wouldn't have had it any other way.

Your hands reach around Yunho, wrapping your arms across his torso and clinging to him tightly. "So... I was thinking."

"Yeah?" He stops folding his clothes long enough to pay full attention to you. "You thinkin' a lot lately."

"Yunho,” you pout.

"Y/N," he places his shirt aside and fully turns his full attention to you. "Go ahead and tell me."

"Is moving in with you... is it something we could consider doing, together? Like... officially?"

"Officially? As in..."

You make a sweeping gesture around the two of your places. "As in the apartment."

His laughter rings in your ears and soon his body is holding yours in a tight embrace. "Ah, we should totally move in together."

"It doesn't have to be your place, but—"

Yunho silences your rambling by kissing you. When his lips part from yours, a brilliant and beautiful smile graces his features. "Baby, we can get a bigger place. Or better yet, our own house." He kisses your forehead. "With our own laundry room, and kitchen, and, yes, three kids, four dogs, and..." Yunho squeezes you tighter in his arms, "a husband. How does that sound?"

A laugh, shaky and bursting at the seams and filled with absolute joy broke the quiet hum of the laundry machines. "Are we back to joking about the marriage thing?"

"If this isn't the woman I'm gonna marry one day, then I don't know who else could top her," his hands cup your face, fingers tickling through your hair. "Let's keep folding our laundry together. One load at a time."

"Stoooop, you are just too cute, I can't," you reply.

His thumb brushes along your cheek and then across your mouth. "For real though, let's look for a bigger place and really settle down. Maybe start with a pet first."

You sigh softly in agreement and stand on tiptoes to kiss the tall man. "Definitely. Totally." Your heart thud and sings at his promise for the future. "And, not that the sex isn't super, mind blowing, incredible. But…if you actually end up being my husband, then... We. Will. So. Break. This. Thing." You lightly slap the washing machine.

"We can start breaking it now, you know," he lifts you onto the counter and nestles between your thighs, "After all, if we are moving out together, might as well christen the appliances that helped us meet and fall in love."

"Seriously?" you question.

"Very, seriously,"he answers with a laugh.

Your hands snake through his hair and you draw his lips close to yours, sighing softly against his lips before speaking. "Are we done with laundry? I feel like we should be done."

"Oh baby, we haven't even gotten started," his words tickles your mouth with every syllable and leaves the hairs of your skin standing on end. "We're in between loads for now."

"Then I propose," your thighs wrap tighter against him, "we start another load now."

"Oh really?" His hand teases up the inside of your knee, lingering close to the hem of your skirt and then climbing upwards, exposing your skin a little further with each soft touch.

"F-for real," you groan softly, your fingers clutching the fabric of his shirt.

He huffs and cups your cheek as his mouth assaults your sensitive neck. "Like last time?"

"Y-yes. Exactly. Just like last time. But this time you don't need to pull out," your thighs twitchs and press together, trapping Yunho's teasing fingers in their hold. "Give me your whole load, Jeong Yunho."

The loud, amused laughter that shakes through him was enough to send shivers up and down your spine and pool hotly between your legs. "If the lady says she's ready for my load, then the man will do his damndest to fulfill his responsibility to provide said load. Again, and again, and again." His fingers slip down the front of your panties, playing in the soft curls and gliding along your wet center. "Gonna give your hole the biggest load, baby."

"Right here on the counter?" you gasp out with a laugh.

"As much as I love fucking you on the counter," Yunho chuckles softly, removing his hands and picking you up off and from the counter and carrying you off towards his room, "it'll be more comfortable in the bedroom. No spills that way."

"How responsible," you manage as the cold air hits your thighs when he sits you on the edge of his bed.

"Just doing my civic duty," he wiggles his eyebrows.

Your chest rumbles with giggles as you lay back against the plush blankets, watching as he comes crawling after you. His lips and warm, tingling kisses return in full force to cover the expanse of bare skin revealed by his gentle tugging. When all was bare, your thighs wound around him and drew him closer to you.

Yunho chuckles and peppers soft, butterfly kisses across your abdomen, hands smoothing along your sides. "Don't worry, babe," he whispers huskily into your belly, sending a pulse of need running straight up through your body and nestling in your core, "I'll make sure that the next time, and the next time... And the time after, and the next..." His head trails lower, his lips following a slow, arduous path. "And every time after that... Our load is properly taken care of and completed."

You hum a small laugh and quip playfully, "Damn, is there a fine for unfinished loads?"

"You bet there is, and it'll come with a series of hickeys, and bruises," he answers.

"I'll take my chances then," you sigh, the tone teasing, but also bracing and ready. "Charge me up, baby."

His answering laughter was equal parts adorably sexy and oh so arousing.

Fuck, did you want this, right here and right now. To be filled and consumed and dominated by the very man who own you already, body and soul.

A soft, breathy cry escapes your lips when the full weight of him presses down. Your mouths meet, open and hungry and utterly wanting, teeth scraping gently on sensitive lips. Your back arches up when his fingers dance and toys with you, dipping between folds and sinking deeper and deeper still, and when he replaces the fingers with himself, there is a short moment where all sensation halts before a loud, gasping whine passes your lips.

His words, dirty, sweet, hot, loving, all reverberate through you, intoxicating you to the core. "Fuck..." You let out a long, ragged groan. "Fuck, Yunho."

A sweet, beautiful smile tugs at the corners of his mouth, eyes half-close and fully lost in ecstasy and passion as his pace gradually begins increasing in urgency and need and desire. "There's my sweetheart. That's my girl. Fuck... just like that..." The breathless moans spill, pushing you faster and faster toward climax. "That's my girl."

Arms wrap around his broad shoulders, your nails score down his back, his hips surging faster, burying him deeper, until all thoughts left your brain and all that remains was his touch, his body. You were alive, the world was alive, everything exists, breaths, pulsates in rhythm with him and your blood sings with the feeling. You are his and he is yours.

Forever.

He meets your lips again, swallowing the breathless whines and whimpers, before kissing your throat and along your clavicle. He pauses his thrusts momentarily, pulling out of you only to flip you onto your belly and urging your ass up into the air.

When his heat covers you once more, his fingers clawing at your hip to pull you even closer, and you bury your face into his sheets to cry out against them. "Fuck," you sob quietly, "ohhh, Yunho. Harder." You need him, everything, the unrelenting passion and unyielding love and comfort that surrounds you. "Oh my god."

He breaths another shaky breath into your neck. "Almost there." His tone is hot, sharp, ragged against the skin. "Got some of this load for ya. Not even halfway through the night. Hold on tight, baby." His voice comes as a rough command that sets your body on fire. "Gonna fuck this hole the rest of the night, just wait."

"Shit," was the only breathy, shaking sigh that you could form. "Oh my god."

Laughter bounced out of him, vibrating through you, bringing another bout of squeals. "Good fucking girl," he praises softly. "Fuck, baby. Such a good girl." He peppers soft, gentle kisses along the crook of your neck, inhaling your scent and letting out a long, deep moan. "You want every drop, sweetheart? Want every single load? Is that right?"

"Mm," your reply was short, sharp, and needy. "Every single drop, fuck."

Yunho drags your hips upwards, angling and pressing the blunt tip of him against the silken recess of your womb, urging himself forward to the hilt as his words fill your brain. "Fill you. Give you the biggest load you've ever dreamed about. Everything you want."

"Everything?"

"All the loads you need," Yunho continue, "hmm? Yes?"

"Everything, fuck,” your shoulders tremble, the sheer ecstasy that passes with his words bringing you to the edge of climax. "Please, everything."

"Good fucking girl," Yunho's grin and hoarse laugh leave you desperate, needy and wanton.

With one final push he has you seeing stars and exploding into orgasm. In the dizzying and wondrous pleasure-filled moment, he buries his face in your neck, shuddering against you, holding you impossibly closer still. His name echoes over and over, barely registering and it was all you could do but sink against the pillows, heaving for breath, unable and unwilling to move.

Eventually, he shifts off and rolls, a heavy, sweaty arm drapes over you and pulls you close. Neither of you said anything, simply staring at one another, breathing slowly and calming the pounding in each others' chests and heads. His gaze rakes slowly over your exposed form, watching the steady rise and fall of your chest, and finally resting against your eyes, so bright with contentment.

"I still got more in the tank," his thumb and forefinger pinches your chin gently between them. "So just to be safe, we shouldn't miss out on this opportunity."

You snort with laughter and hide your flushed face behind the pillows. "I hope we're moving in soon so there can be room for more clothes. Or better yet, storage space for our 'dirty loads'." You give another hoarse, rattling laugh. "Give me five minutes before you bring out another load."

"Tsk tsk tsk," Yunho playfully chides you, holding your hips gently and guiding your face towards his. He bends over to steal a kiss. "We are nowhere near finishing."

"Your tank doesn't ever run dry, does it?" you laugh softly.

"You are going to break this machine one day," came his mumbled retort but the sparkle of his smile said everything you needed to know.

"This machine better not break," you poke at his dick for emphasis before pushing him unto his back, "or there will be hell to pay, Jeong Yunho." You couldn't quite help the laugh in your throat, and the need that still flared inside.

"Remember, this is a delicate and rare machine. Handling is important,” he retorts with an eyeroll, a smile on his lips.

"How delicate and how rare?" Your laughter erupts, causing him to smile even brighter.

"Rare and delicate. And belongs to one specific and important person in my life," Yunho shrugs nonchalantly. "Sooo, handle me with extra care, babe."

"Dually noted and observed," you promise and reach to slide yourself home.

Fuck, you’re a wreck for him.

And, honestly... You were okay with that.

If his promises came with a load or two more, then all the fucking better for it.

[kirilunimimi]

three’s company — smg & yjh ⭑.ᐟ

⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho ⭑ planning to buy a house, get married and start a family within the next few years, you and mingi are the blueprint for the perfect relationship— until one of yunho’s infamous stories about his intriguing sex life gets stuck in your head for a little too long, and has you curious about spicing up your own sex life. ⭑ smut minors dni, praise, oral/both ways, p in v, degradation, choking, mention of toys, overstim, voyeurism? heavy on dom/sub dynamics, reader is a switch and so is mingi, yunho is a dom, very experimental/educational vibe, mxm ⭑ part one of ? / wc 21.4k ⭑ — this idea came to me late at night and plagued me until i finished writing it. i am obsessed with this trio, this dynamic. i love them so and i hope you do too <3

“You’ve got to be kidding,” Yunho faced the two of you from the twin blue upholstered couch across your living room, his brows slanted, upper lip raised in clear disgust. “Iron Man 2 clears the entire verse, best MCU movie to date.” 

You faced your boyfriend with a smile, eyebrows raised, expression saying ‘Are you really gonna take that?’

Lopsided front teeth poked out from his pink, plump lips, a smile that was fighting to keep itself hidden. Mingi shook his head and leaned back, his heavy palm sliding over your knee, “Can’t argue with that, excuse me for wanting to watch Endgame.” 

“Psychotic suggestion for movie night,” Yunho says and a disbelieving huff of a laugh falls from his lips right after, “Excuse me for not being in the mood to cry.”

“What if we watch a romcom?” You look between the two who give you wary glances, but don’t respond. “If we’re going to watch a Marvel movie, we’re starting from the beginning and not watching anything else until we finish all of them. Is that something either of you want to commit to?” 

They both shrug as if you have all the time in the world, because you do. Every Friday night Yunho came over with snacks and soda in tow, sometimes beer if he had a particularly shitty week, and the three of you sat around your living room shooting the shit until you decided on a movie. It was an unspoken thing, your movie nights, your weekly hangouts, they’d started almost immediately upon moving into your shared apartment with your boyfriend, Mingi, and simply never stopped. Rarely did a week go missed. 

You huffed a heavy breath, sinking back into your couch, snuggling up to Mingi. You slid your gaze over to Yunho who held the remote, “What are you waiting for? Everyone knows the first watch is The First Avenger.” 

Yunho didn’t respond, but instead pointed the remote toward the TV, his hand completely swallowing the device beneath his palm as he searched the movie and put it on. You tugged the blanket that laid over the back of the couch over yourself and Mingi, laying your head over his shoulder, letting your arms wrap around one of his, letting his warmth seep into you. It’s been years since you’ve seen this movie, since any of you have seen this movie probably, yet your brain wanted to do anything else but pay attention. 

With it being days after your period ended you were now nearing dangerous territory, ovulation week, a week your boyfriend adored yet had to physically prepare himself for. You resembled a fucking hormone monster for a long five days, needing your boyfriend at all hours of the day to tame the fire that would not die down inside you. Before Yunho came over Mingi had already taken you six ways to Sunday, you only stopped because Yunho trudged inside your apartment with a six pack and a face contorted with grief. 

Another situationship over, he’d said. Not amicably, either. 

You didn’t see the big deal, she wasn’t anything special, the girl he was hooking up with six months ago that he ended things with was better for him than this one. But Yunho is Yunho, somehow still a glutton for punishment as if it didn’t completely offset how he was with women, how he fucked. Not that you knew from experience, but from the stories he’s told while five beers deep, lounged out in your living room, complaining to you and your boyfriend, you’ve learned some things. 

Things you could not think about right now. Not while your body was begging you to make a baby, not while you were literally laying on your boyfriend, not while Yunho was sitting just across the living room.

Right now was not the time. 

But would it ever be the time to think about your boyfriend’s best friend’s sex life?

It’s not that you inherently wanted Yunho. You couldn’t possibly deny a gorgeous man’s beauty, but it wasn’t about wanting Yunho. It was the stories, he never should have opened his fucking mouth– how he naturally slips into dominance with every woman he sleeps with, no, he doesn’t slip, it’s intentional. 

Yunho is a Dom. How he instructs, how he expects submission, how he corrects, how he tames. 

Your sex life with Mingi was far from dull, Yunho and his stupid stories should be miles from your mind, but you can’t control the thoughts, especially not right now. You untwist your arms from around Mingi’s bicep, letting your palm fall to his thigh, his bare skin feeling like velvet. So soft despite the hair that grew sparsely in that area, you’d give anything to let your tongue lick up the skin, to watch his eyes roll back, to hear his deep groan as you suck a mark into him.

Your thighs tightened at the thought, eyebrows twisting because you know Mingi could feel it, and how he shifted beneath you confirmed it. You tilted your head, peeking up at him with a sheepish look through your lashes, just to be met with a disapproving crinkle between his brows. 

You could basically hear his thoughts, Don’t even think about it. You almost pouted. I need you. Now. He shook his head once. Not here.  You looked toward the hallway where your bathroom was, that led to your bedroom. We have plenty of options.  He glanced at Yunho, then back at you. When he leaves, I’ll take care of you.  You held his gaze, I can’t wait that long.  He didn’t back down. You can, and you will. 

You huffed, shuffling to the side, putting inches of space between yourself and your boyfriend. You caught the sideways glance from Yunho which lasted all of a millisecond before his eyes were back on the screen, watching the movie again. You pouted, arms crossing over your stomach, legs propped up on the coffee table in front of you that was littered with empty bottles of beer and half-filled chip bowls. 

Mingi clearly wasn’t going to crack, and you could hold onto your anger until it killed you, so you leaned onto the armrest of the opposite side of the couch, the pillow shoved beneath you not giving a shred of the comfort your boyfriend’s body did. You kept your eyes trained on the screen, brain whirling in frustration and arousal, letting yourself daydream about Yunho’s debauched sex life until your eyes inevitably closed. 

You woke to fingers hooking into your waistband, sliding it down your thighs with careful precision, like he didn’t want to wake you. You lifted your hips anyhow, welcoming the head of black hair between your legs, eyes still heavy and low-lidded with sleep. Mingi looked up at you through thick lashes, gaze heavy, his lips slightly parted, as if he’s been waiting for this. 

“He just left,” he said like an excuse as your sweatpants hit the floor, black panties folded into the gray fabric, a contrast to your deep hardwood floors. Your back arched on command as he bent down, laying on his stomach, strong arms hooking under your thighs. 

“Mm, needed this pussy just as much as she needed me,” he didn’t dare glance back up at you, eyes zeroed in on your center, leaning in just as your legs parted. He started slowly, tongue slipping through your folds, his eyes softly shut, ripping mewls from the back of your throat, low and grumbled, muddled with sleep. 

Your hand flew to his hair as your chin tipped back, your neck digging into the uncomfortable armrest, the pillow beneath you doing nothing to soothe the ache. You didn’t care, you barely noticed, not with your boyfriend’s head between your legs, lips wrapped around your clit, sucking just the way you liked. He groaned as you pulled on his roots, tongue flattening against your folds, sliding upward to draw circles into your clit. 

You sighed, staring at him through heavy lids, watching as his face contorted in pleasure, how his hips rutted into the cushions at the end of the couch. He pulled a hand from beneath your thigh, ripping his mouth away to spread your folds with his fingers, finally glancing up at you. Noticing your expression, he let out a huff of amusement, lips tilted in a smirk, “Have a good nap?”

Eyebrows knitted in pleasure and anticipation, you nodded, lips parted, fingers that fell to the couch gripping at the fabric. He chuckled as he inserted the tip of his middle finger into your center, earning a gasp from you. With his focus back at your core, he asked, “What had you so worked up?” 

You were thankful he kept his eyes down, you couldn’t control the way your eyes widened ever so slightly, couldn’t hide your reaction to the last question you’d expect him to ask. You wished you could avoid the question, you couldn’t answer honestly and say that you were daydreaming about his best friend’s sex life.

You stuttered, “S-Steve Rogers was on the screen.”

He paused, looking back up at you with his eyebrows raised, “Steve Rogers had you ready to fuck me in the bathroom with Yunho, of all people, here?”

You cracked a smile, it was kind of funny, even funnier that it was believable. “Can you blame me?” 

“No,” he bid you one more amused glance before he slipped his middle finger inside you, “I can’t.”

You gasped a moan, back arching again, hips bucking up to meet the length of his finger. He pumped it inside of you once, twice before he was curling it, the pad of his finger rubbing up against that spot inside you that made your bones feel like jelly. You were loud now, moans slipping from your lips one after another as he built up a rhythm, his finger curling into you with each thrust, putting pressure where you needed it. When he brought his lips back down to suck on your clit your hands flew to his roots again, holding him there, broken cries leaving your lips, he was so fucking good at this. 

He knew how to coax you to orgasm better than you did by now. You supposed after being together for years, he should. You gasped when his teeth grazed your clit, hips bucking into him, curses flying from your lips. “F-fuck,” you hissed, “Yes, Mingi, just like that.” 

He grunted in response, feeling your walls tightening around his finger, quickening his pace, the rhythm you needed to push you over the edge. Your legs shook around his head, your breath catching in your throat, shakily inhaling with each wave of pleasure as he brought you to orgasm with ease, movements he’s been perfecting for years now. 

“Please tell me you’re planning on fucking me again,” you gave yourself no rest, staring at him through glassy eyes, your body heavy and slightly spent, you didn’t even know what number orgasm you were on today. 

“I don’t know if my dick still works,” he sat back on his calves, pulling your body towards him with your hips. One fluid movement, so easy, he was so strong, he could throw you around if he wanted to, god, you wish he wanted to. 

You rolled your eyes, arms reaching in front of you to wrap around his biceps, letting your fingers slip beneath the sleeves of his tee shirt as he bent down, bringing his face to yours. “I watched you hump the couch two minutes ago, Mingi.”

“Hey,” he pulled back before you could attach your lips to his, “Don’t make fun of me for that.”

“What?” You smiled, head tilting to the side, “I would never.”

He pouted, bottom lip jutting out, wet and plump and soft, your arms slid up to flatten your hands around his shoulders, pulling him back down. “I think it’s sexy that eating me out makes you desperate.” 

He finally kissed you, tongue slipping into your mouth, letting you taste yourself. You hummed, stretching your legs to lay them over his thighs, pulling him into you, where he rutted his hips into yours the second you made contact. You kissed for a while, letting your tongues sloppily lick into each other’s mouths, your hands flying into his hair again, his hands sliding down your torso. You let your mind drift as you kissed, thinking about how he pulled you into him so easily, how much he could rough you up if he wanted to, if he had a dominant bone in his body. 

Mingi is a lot of things, but you would never say dominant is one of them. Over six feet tall and so fucking strong, Mingi seemed intimidating until the moment he opened his mouth. Sweet, caring, eager to please, Mingi would do anything for you. He’d fight wars for you, swim across the ocean, you shouldn’t want anything more. You shouldn’t want anything different. 

And you don’t. Not really. 

Mingi is perfect how he is, you wouldn’t want him any other way. But curious you are, and you couldn’t help but wonder what he’d be like if he treated you like a pet rather than his girlfriend. Would he be anything like how Yunho describes his encounters? Would he be strict, would he control when you came, how you came? Would he choke you, slap you, take you in any way he wanted, instead of what you wanted?

What you wanted was to be fucked, and as Mingi slipped his sweatpants halfway down his flexed thighs and lined himself up with your center, you knew what you wanted would always be his top priority. Song Mingi didn’t know what the word selfish meant.

You didn’t deserve it, you acted like a brat earlier, huffing out of annoyance and putting physical space between you because you didn’t get what you wanted. But instead of punishing you, instead of fucking you only to get himself off, of denying you the pleasure of another orgasm, Mingi woke you up with his face between your legs. Because he knew you, what you wanted, what you needed, and Mingi’s life’s pleasure is making you happy.

You cried out as he sheathed himself inside you, nails painting crescents into his biceps, your eyes flying to the back of your head, flushing out your entire thought process. No, Mingi is perfect, the way he carves himself space inside you as if it’s the first time, every time, is more than you could ever ask for. He leaned back down, barely attaching his lips to yours, only the sounds of your breath and skin slapping against skin to be heard in your living room. 

With his hands still wrapped around your hips he tilted them upward, fucking into you harshly, angled to hit that same spot inside you, he wasn’t in the mood to draw this out and you couldn’t blame him. You’ve been insatiable all day, when you woke up, in the car earlier, against the kitchen counter before Yunho came over, you wondered if he had anything left to give you. You slid your hand down between your legs, drawing quick circles over your clit, your jaw falling slack, lips unresponsive against Mingi’s. 

“Gonna cum for me already, hmm?” He tried his best to sound like he wasn’t completely losing it, voice strained yet still teasing. His hips stuttering told the truth he tried to hide, he was just as close as you were. 

“Yes,” you whispered into his mouth, voice high pitched, on the cusp of orgasm, your hips meeting his thrusts like you couldn’t get him deep enough. 

He let his forehead press against yours, both surfaces coated in sweat, mixing together in their meeting, getting a glimpse of his fucked out face was enough to send you over the edge. Your knees tightened around his torso as you came, moans guttural and unabashed, embarrassment might’ve crossed your mind two years ago. But now he’s seen everything, he’s heard everything, he aches for it, if you aren’t cross-eyed and crying into his ear, he knows he isn’t hitting it right. 

“Yes, baby, that’s it, so fucking good,” he praises, hands gripping under your thighs, pressing them back, bending you in half. “Gonna fill this pussy up.”

Chest heaving, mouth ajar and unable to close, you could have finished again at the sight of him. Sweat sticking his hair to his forehead, the muscles surrounding his hips peeking out from beneath the hem of his tee, bottom lip tucked between his teeth, Mingi was a vision, a sight to be seen. 

“Please,” you begged, voice whiney and desperate,  “Wanna feel you cum inside, I need it.”

His thrusts turned erratic, smacking into you harshly, a deep groan leaving his lips as he emptied himself inside you, fingers holding onto your legs tight as he came. Where you wouldn’t usually notice the sharp pain of his grip, your senses were on high alert, the feeling making you moan with him, the pain mixing with the comforting warmth of his cum filling you up. Hypnotizing, addicting, for a moment you thought maybe this wasn’t ovulation brain– maybe this was something you were really curious about.

Maybe something you really wanted to try. 

He keeled over, lips finding yours again, palms softly running over where he’d just gripped onto you, soothing the area. Your skin burned under his touch, you wanted him to do it again, harder this time, maybe wrap one of his pretty hands around your throat– 

“You’re cut off for the night,” he said into your lips, then pressed a kiss to your cheek. “No more sex.”

“Boo,” you wrapped your arms around his neck, crossing your ankles over his back, “If I keep you here maybe you’ll get hard again.” 

He laughed into your cheek, heavy and genuine, “You’re terrifying when you’re ovulating.”

“Says the man who just came inside me,” you pressed a kiss to his hair, then loosened your grip on him. “You want a baby more than I do at this point.”

He shrugs as he sits up, pulling out of you, “Sue me.” 

“We have a timeline, Song Mingi.” 

Sundresses, swim trunks and margaritas surrounded you, all of your friends bouncing around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s massive backyard, a ridiculously sized plot of land behind a farm-style rancher that they bought just last year. 

Don’t mind the setup, Seonghwa said, We’re still renovating!

Meanwhile an inground pool enclosed by several feet of perfectly laid concrete took over the space just outside the back door, a tiki bar, a patio with a full grill, a table and chairs, couches, a fucking fire pit… We’re still renovating, your ass. It was both perfect and absolutely ridiculous how much they have it together in contrast to yours and Mingi’s one bedroom apartment two towns over. 

They wanted to be the house, the place where all your friends and families gathered, the permanent hosts, and damn, did they succeed. They’ve been planning Wooyoung’s going away party ever since he broke the news of his job offer three states away, a bittersweet gathering, both in congratulations for Wooyoung’s raise and sadness that such an important voice in your friend group would be so far away. You hoped it wasn’t permanent, the selfish part of you hoped he hated it and came back to you guys immediately, he was the biggest light amongst you, one of your favorite people to be around, but you were also proud of him for his success, his hard work paying off. 

You could hear him laughing now from across the lawn, chatting with his girlfriend, Sana, Jongho and his girlfriend Jihyo, about god knows what, the sound warming your heart while breaking it simultaneously. You’d miss him more than he knew. 

“Want another, my love?” Mingi came up behind you where you sat, pressing a swift kiss to your cheek, stealing your glass out of your hand. 

You nodded, “Yes, please,” and watched him scurry off toward the tiki bar, Yunho and his date sitting at the teal colored stools lined up on the outside. You watched Yunho’s head turn toward Mingi, how he got off his stool to follow Mingi behind the bar, no doubt to help him make you another margarita. 

You turned your head back to the group lounging on the couches, Yeosang and his girlfriend Tzuyu, Hongjoong and Seonghwa, San and his boyfriend Jongin, everyone in the middle of a conversation you had accidentally clocked out of. You crossed your leg over your other one, fixing how your sundress laid over them, trying to ignore the sweaty stick of the summer heat on your skin, the alcohol that warmed your blood doing nothing to cool you down. 

Past seven, the sun was still annoyingly bright and agonizing, your hair tied up atop your head, probably matted at this point from the time you spent in the pool earlier. 

“...I keep telling you that you need to fire him,” San says to Hongjoong, his top lip bent in irritation, “He’s nothing but a lazy nuisance. If he messes up one more deal, I’m gonna talk to him myself.”

“He just started, San,” Hongjoong shook his head, “Cut the man a break.” 

San sips his whiskey instead of responding, his hand laying over Jongin’s knee, and it’s the reminder you needed as to why you initially clocked out of the conversation. You hated when they started talking business– even if that’s how all of them remain close, minus Wooyoung and Jongho, who are old college friends of Mingi and the others. They were all college friends, the group of them in the same fraternity, still close as ever post-grad, even now that so many of them work at the same firm. 

You loved when your parties and hangouts stayed free-spirited, light hearted, less talk about work and more stories from their college party days. Those stories you loved, especially the ones that included your boyfriend, the ones that told you exactly who he was before he met you. Not one story was surprising, though, he’s the same lover boy he’s always been, back then just included a lot more keg stands.

You let your eyes drift again, moving back to the tiki bar, where you caught Mingi, Yunho and his date walking towards where you sat around the fire pit. You shot them a tight lipped smile, grateful they were coming to join in on the conversation, hopefully derailing it to something more enjoyable. 

“Wooyoung!” Seonghwa called across the lawn, “Why don’t you guys come join us?”

You grabbed your glass from Mingi as he sat down next to you, thanking him before you took a sip. Cold and refreshing, just what you needed to cool you off, tequila and summer was your favorite combination. Yunho sat down beside Mingi, and you watched as his date propped herself on his knee, her hands folded in her lap, crinkling the fabric of her pretty sundress. Yunho sat back, one hand holding his beer, the other haphazardly laid on her thigh as if it was nothing.

You wondered if that’s something he told her to do, or if she chose to sit there herself. There was space next to him, even more space on the couches across from you, surrounding the fire pit. Was that a part of it? Yunho’s game? Maybe it’s not a game, a lifestyle rather than some joke, a clear show of possession so everyone in the circle knew she belonged to Yunho. 

Your tongue poked out to swipe over your bottom lip, ripping your eyes away from the pair, shoving the curiosity down. You turned into Mingi, crossing your other leg instead, your entire body leaning into him. You wondered if Mingi would ever ask something like that of you, maybe he would if he ever got jealous enough. 

Mingi isn’t the jealous type, though. He never has been. He has full trust in you, and that trust outweighs everything, lingering eyes of others, shameless flirting that you never caught on to. Even that one time where Yeosang’s hand lingered on your forearm for a little too long after too many drinks, telling you how gorgeous you looked in blue, Mingi still didn’t care. He nodded his head with an excited smile and said, I know, right?

You wondered what Yunho would do in that situation. Would he rip your arm away, take you into an unused bedroom, a storage closet even, and remind you who you belonged to? Would he leave marks, trailing from your jaw to your chest, to show who owned you if they stepped too close? 

Mingi nudged you with his shoulder, pulling you out of your thoughts, and you looked up to his concerned expression, giving him a small smile. He quietly asked, “You okay? Tired?”

You shrugged, “Was just thinking.”

He leaned over, kissing the top of your head, “Don’t think too hard, I’m starting to see steam coming out of your ears.”

You smiled, a huff of amusement leaving your lips. You don’t even know where you had been staring, if it was at anyone, you needed to control your thoughts, but they were starting to plague you. Especially when you caught Yunho holding up his beer bottle an inch above where it rested on his thigh, how his date immediately caught on, taking the empty glass and standing up to get him another. She was his date, it’s not like she was his girlfriend, someone who knows him well enough to understand his body language without a word being spoken.

The more you saw, the more you understood, the more it made sense. They were playing, even now, in front of everyone. You didn’t like the burning in your gut, the sting of jealousy, the interest it brought you, how a part of you wanted to try being in her situation. If you could be good, if you could pick up on cues so easily, so fast, if you could please. Will she be rewarded for it later? What does that look like? 

You ripped your attention away again, blinking, staring down at your margarita held between your fingers. You could be completely wrong, all of this could be innocent, she could be sitting on his lap because she wanted to be there. Maybe she got him another beer because she was being a good date, doting on him. You could be sexualizing it for no reason, which changes the burning in your gut to a burn of shame, embarrassment that you’re sitting with your entire group of friends, once again pondering over Yunho’s sex life. 

“What do you say we play beer pong, for old time’s sake?” Wooyoung’s loud voice washed over you like a bucket of cold water, grabbing your attention. Groans and laughter were mixed among the group, and Wooyoung tilted his head, his smile growing larger. 

“How old are we?” Jongho smacked his arm, sitting on the side of the chair Jihyo was sitting in, one thigh on either side of the armrest, “Twenty?” 

“Come on,” Wooyoung begged, his lips bending to a pout, “When’s the next time you guys are going to see me?” 

“Guilt tripping us into playing beer pong,” San shakes his head, a smile on his cheeks, dimples out on display, “Very you– And it worked.” 

Wooyoung cheered and Sana turned her gaze your way, meeting your eye, shaking her head with an amused smile on her face. You mirrored her expression, letting your eyes slide to Jihyo and Tzuyu, all four of you mentally preparing to sit on the sidelines while your boyfriends got trashed. All of you would have to deal with their hangovers in the morning. 

An hour later, you and the three girls plus Jongin were all seated just off to the side of the beer pong table, where all eight boys were loudly playing, laughing, or taunting the ones currently in the middle of a game. You listened to the commentary just as much as you were watching the game unfold, your ear catching every other sentence, laughing when one of them made a remark that was out of pocket, but the five of you currently in the midst of conversation didn’t have much attention left to give the game behind you. 

“...And she said she was not giving him the ring. It’s fucked up,” Sana sat back in her seat, her arms crossed over her bikini top, in the middle of telling a story. “She said she’d rethink it if I stayed with him for over a year after we move away, but I don’t believe her one bit.”

“Maybe she’s telling the truth, she’s probably just watching out for her son,” Tzuyu smiled at Sana, ever so optimistic, always looking at the bright side. Her brown hair laid in long braids down her shoulders, far past her bikini top, the tips just caressing the hem of her denim shorts. You tightened your lips, that was not what Sana wanted to hear right now. Wooyoung’s mom has never liked Sana, and you’re starting to think she never will. 

“It’s crazy how she thinks she can control your relationship, I mean, Wooyoung is twenty seven. He’s far past the age of her coddling him,” Jihyo added with her face twisted in disgust, that was what Sana wanted to hear, Jihyo was always good at fulfilling whatever idea Sana came up with. The two of them were a pair, the moon and the sun, where Jihyo appeared harsh and was sweet as candy, Sana was bright and colorful until she bared her teeth. 

“I know!” Sana said, a little too loudly, nervously glancing at the table behind you to check that none of the guys heard her, blonde hair moving with her. You’ve always been on Woo’s mom’s side, you always expected him to end up with someone… Nicer. He deserved someone who would treat him like a king, but in a way, you supposed Sana did treat him like one. Anyone else who wasn’t Wooyoung, though? That was a different story.

“I’m sure she’ll give in,” Jongin added, an encouraging smile on his face, he knows Sana just as well as you do by now. A linen button up laid loosely over his shoulders, the white a contrast to his golden, sunkissed skin. Him and San must have spent a lot of time at San’s beach house this summer. 

This was always the dynamic between you, the partners. Jihyo genuinely believed what she said to Sana, Tzuyu was supportive, and Jongin tried to keep the peace. You kept quiet, you weren’t much of a liar, and your brain couldn’t be farther from Sana’s impertinence.

Your knee bounced, margarita watered down and loosely held between your fingers, Yunho’s date was glued to his side at the table behind you. She didn’t leave him once, not when Tzuyu invited her to sit with you, not when Yunho was actually playing the game. She respectfully declined with a bashful smile, cheeks rosy and chest gleaming with a sheen of sweat, then she stayed hung off of Yunho’s arm like an accessory.

It was beginning to fucking consume you. Was that one of his rules? Was she not allowed to leave his side, stuck there to be his personal waitress? Was she getting off on it, too?

Was the reward really worth it? 

“Hello?” Jihyo tapped your knee, pulling your attention again, her smile amused as if catching you off guard was the funniest thing in the world. 

“Sorry,” you tried to smile, tucking your hair behind your ear, “Did I miss something?” 

“I asked how Mingi is, how you guys are,” Sana smiled the same way Jihyo did, “What’s got you so out of it today?”

You forced a chuckle, “My bad, I didn’t get good sleep last night, the margaritas are making me sleepy.” A lie so easily told, white lies you could handle. “We’re good, thinking about moving into something bigger soon.”

“Oh?” Tzuyu asked excitedly, “You guys have been in that apartment for years, are you thinking about renting or buying?” 

A two-story, white house, with three bedrooms and an open floor plan, yes, you were thinking about buying. You fought to not glance behind you, keeping your eyes trained on Tzuyu, “If we can get a good loan for a mortgage, we’ll own.”

Tzuyu cheered, her grin bright and wide, “I’m so happy for you, me and Yeosang always talk about how perfect you guys are together. Do you think he’s planning on proposing this year?” 

You smiled, a shy giggle escaping you as you stared down at your margarita again, “I think so.”

“Your wedding is going to be gorgeous,” Sana adds from across the small table between your chairs, “If it’s anything like how you decorate your apartment– and the bridesmaid dresses, don’t even get me started.”

You waved a hand, ignoring the bridesmaid comment, “I won’t, I’m not jinxing it. Who knows what might happen?”

You catch Jihyo as she rolls her eyes, “I wouldn’t be surprised if he proposed tomorrow, you’ve been together longer than any of us. You’re the OG girlfriend.” 

That ripped a laugh from your chest, it’s true, you’ve been with Mingi long before any of the other guys’ partners entered the picture. Jongin interrupted, “I could help you with a mortgage loan, you know, my dad’s a banker.” 

“When the time comes,” you nodded toward the brown haired man with kind eyes, then finally let your eyes fall to the table behind you, seeing who was playing now. 

Who might still be glued to their date. 

Mingi and Yunho were playing Yeosang and Wooyoung, a cocky smile on your boyfriend’s cheeks, a lazy smirk on Yunho’s. They must be winning. 

And his date, her dark hair up now, in a claw clip behind her head, two pieces fallen out and framing her face perfectly. She stood just beside Yunho, her drink clasped in her hands, barely a sip drank from the clear glass. You wondered if she was allowed to drink, or if that was one of his rules, too. 

Your lips pursed and you stood up, legs bringing you to your boyfriend before you could think about it. You slid in between him and San, the dimpled man throwing an arm over your shoulders, “You come to play?”

You smiled up at him, shaking your head, “Just wanted to watch.” 

“Wanna watch me win,” Mingi added, shooting you a wink, then tossed the ball across the table, sinking it into one of the red solo cups filled with water. 

You clapped with the rest of the boys, your grin wide as a low whistle left your lips, staring down the table at Yeosang and Wooyoung who wore red cheeks and sour faces. The difference in the amount of cups left standing made it clear who was winning, not that it surprised you, Mingi was always more competitive when he had Yunho by his side. 

You watched as Yunho’s date tugged on his wrist, whispering something into his ear, and he nodded down at her. She silently excused herself, dress flowing in the breeze as she walked across the patio, inside the back door. 

You watched, and then your legs were moving before you could stop yourself. You followed her in, just as she was draining her glass into the kitchen sink, one of her hands on her hip. 

She turned to you as the backdoor snapped shut, surprise on her face, eyebrows raised and lips parted. “Oh! Sorry, I would have left the door open for you.”

Ah, fuck, she’s nice. You smiled, walking across the hardwood floor, your sandals smacking with every step, “No biggie, I don’t think I’ve introduced myself yet, I wanted to say hello.” You introduced yourself, a smile on your cheeks, “Not in the mood to drink?”

She glanced down at the empty glass in her hands, then at the sink, then up to you. She laughed nervously, “I'm a slow drinker, it got watered down, not all that tasty anymore.”

You slowly nodded your head, “Totally get that. Did you need help finding the bathroom?” 

She looked around Seonghwa and Hongjoong’s kitchen as if you reminded her why she walked in here, the bathroom nowhere to be found. She smiled again, her cheeks rosy and squishable, face completely bare beside mascara, she’s adorable. A perfect, submissive girl. “Yes, please, that’d be great.” 

“Down that hallway and to the right,” you pointed to the dark hallway and she thanked you, setting her glass down in the sink and scurrying off in the direction of the bathroom. When she was out of eyesight, you pouted, you don’t know what you expected from coming in here, but you definitely didn’t learn anything new. You took a sip of your margarita, setting a hand on the kitchen island for purchase, your mind whirling. You wanted to know. You wished you could just ask. 

The door opened and closed behind you and you turned to find Jihyo walking in, her own cheeks red from the seltzers she’d been sipping on, the summer heat she’s been basking in all day. She smiled at you, eyebrows popping up in surprise and confusion, “Girl, what are you doing in here? You’ve been acting weird all day.”

Your lips pulled to one side, you wondered if Jihyo had any experience in this area, if she and Jongho ever explored in the way you’re curious about. If anyone in your group has done some experimental shit, it’s Jihyo. “Can I ask you a question?” 

Her face turned serious, quickly walking closer to where you stood, gathering her dark hair behind her head to pull up into a bun. “Of course, is everything okay?”

“Yes, yes,” you said, shaking your head, loosing a quick, heavy breath. “Is Jongho ever… Rough with you?” 

Jihyo paused in the middle of tying her hair, cocking her head to the side. “What do you mean ‘rough’?” 

You scrunch your lips, trying to reword the question properly in your mind. “Have you ever experienced… Like, a dominant guy? That kind of role, in a relationship?”

Jihyo’s lips curved upward, a devious smile on her cheeks, eyebrows wiggling. “You thinking about spicing things up with Mingi?” 

Your cheeks warmed, you looked down at the hardwood floor in embarrassment, then back up to her. “Possibly. I’m just curious, I guess.”

“Then yes, Jongho can be rough sometimes, but only when I purposely pissed him off or made him jealous or something. The relationship I was in before I started dating Jongho, though…”

Your entire face lit up, she giggled as she noticed. 

“He was a very strict man, but not in a gross way, more so in a… Domineering way, I guess, everything I consented to. He thought it was sexy to control unsexy aspects of my life, what I wore, how I acted, what I did, who I talked to. In bed, he was a fucking freak.”

Your eyes filled with stars, you asked, “In a good way?”

“Oh, absolutely. He’d tie my hands behind my back, attach a spreader bar between my knees, or put a vibrator on me and leave the room until he was satisfied with how long I’d been in there by myself. Then he’d come back in and fuck me like I hadn’t already came a gazillion times.”

You released a shaky breath, toes digging into the soles of your sandals. It sounded so… appetizing. 

“He was fun, that whole relationship was fun,” she smiled brightly, you almost felt bad about making her reminisce on something she loved so much, but clearly didn’t have anymore. 

You couldn’t stop yourself, asking, “Why’d you break up?”

“He cheated on me,” she rolled her eyes, “Ruined a good thing. Fuck him.”

“Fuck him,” you nodded your agreement, cheeks warm, your whole body warm… You imagined Mingi tying your hands behind your back, attaching something between your legs to keep you from closing them, fully in control of your body and your pleasure. The thought was so hot, you could see it in your mind, you licked your lips as if it was happening now. 

“I gotta pee, I’ll be right back,” Jihyo’s eyes flew back to the hallway, in the direction of the bathroom. Just as you started to warn her about Yunho’s date being in there, she bounced back out, apologies on her lips about being in there for so long. She was barely in there for five minutes. 

You followed her back into the backyard, not stopping by the table again, but sitting yourself back in your cushioned chair, legs crossed, slowly sipping your margarita. You didn’t want to see her fall back to Yunho’s side like a lost puppy dog. 

God, you needed to get a grip. The girl didn’t do anything to you. Jihyo’s story filled your head again, but instead of imagining Jihyo and the mystery man, it was you and Mingi, a vibrator strapped to you while he sat back, watching, analyzing, telling you no when you begged him to cum. 

When Jongin pulled you back into the conversation you were barely paying attention to again, your body physically shook off the thoughts, a chill cooling off your very blood. 

You really needed to get it together. 

“I have something I need to tell you.” 

Almost a full week after Wooyoung’s going away party, another movie night with Yunho under your belt, you couldn’t let these feelings fester for any longer, you were losing your fucking mind. Night after night, your boyfriend has rocked into you, sweet words on his tongue, soft caresses to your face. As much as you enjoyed it, you felt guilty for your feelings, for wanting more, something different. Admitting it was a start.

Day after day you’ve done little things, almost unnoticeable things trying to get his attention, trying to spark an ounce of jealousy. You made a comment about how good San looked at Wooyoung’s party, how he looked like he’d been hitting the gym– Mingi had given you puppy eyes, asking, “Should I start going to the gym more?”

You felt so guilty you dropped to your knees then and there, feeding praises into his ears, worshipping his body, vowing to yourself to never make him ask you a question like that ever again, to never make him feel self conscious or worth any less. The whole encounter left you feeling icky. 

But maybe another route would work. 

Just yesterday you asked him, What would you do if someone hit on me at the bar?

He furrowed his brows and said, Tell them not to do that, I guess?

You were getting nowhere like this, and it was frustrating. Granted, you probably should have just opened up and told him your feelings the moment these thoughts started crossing your mind. 

Mingi turned over in your bed to face you, eyes sparkling, staring at you like you were his whole world. You needed to bring this up delicately, propose it in a way that wouldn’t leave him feeling like he wasn’t doing enough, that he wasn’t enough. You didn’t want to pressure him into anything, either. Asking him to slap you around was strangely feeling meticulous, you sucked your bottom lip between your teeth, eyebrows furrowed in focus and fear. 

“Is everything okay?” He asked, eyes glossed over with worry, he shuffled a bit closer to you in your shared bed, needing your warmth to soothe his own nerves. 

“Yes, baby, everything’s fine,” you smiled weakly, your arm stretching across the sheets to lay your palm over his cheek. “I’m just nervous to say what I need to, or ask my question, I guess. I don’t want you to feel like I’m unhappy, or that you aren’t doing enough, but… I’ve been thinking.”

He mirrored your smile, teasing, “You know what I say about you and thinking.”

A huff of a laugh left your lips, smile growing stronger, “I’m serious, Min.”

“Okay, I’m sorry,” his smile grew too, genuine and light, he’s always been good at diffusing situations, easing your stress. “Hit me.”

“Funny choice of words, actually,” you start, and the crease between his brows shows itself. “Do you ever think about… Being a little rough with me?”

He lifts his head up off the pillow ever so slightly, surprise flashing in his big brown eyes, “Like, when I’m fucking you?”

“Yeah,” you watched his face morph into confusion, “Throwing me around, saying mean stuff, choking me a little, maybe even slapping me–”

“Slapping you?!”

“I don’t know!” You shuffle in your bed, sitting up straight, tucking the baby pink comforter in your lap, hands mindlessly playing with the fabric. Staring down at him, voice coated in shame, you asked, “Do you?”

He blinked a few times, mouth opening and closing like a fish out of water. Finally, he says, “I don’t think I have ever, once in my life, thought about hurting you.”

“Does it freak you out if I say it’s something I might be curious about?” You lay a hand behind your back, using your arm to support your weight. Mingi shifts too, sitting up beside you, still staring at you like you’re a math equation he can’t calculate. 

“It doesn’t freak me out, I–” He shakes his head once, as if he’s trying to figure out his own feelings, what to say. “When did you start thinking about… this?” 

“The night we watched that Captain America movie with Yunho,” you answer honestly, staring into his eyes, trying to get a read on him. He looks down at his lap, thinking, counting, before he looks back at you. 

“Dude, that was like two weeks ago,” he says, horror in his voice, “You’ve been sitting on this for that long?”

“It’s not a big deal if it’s something you aren’t interested in,” you wave a hand in front of you, trying to fake nonchalance, but there was no way to prove to Mingi this isn’t important to you if it took you this long to say something. He knows you far too well. 

He glances up at your ceiling, moving his lips, scrunching them to either side of his mouth, thinking. He finally looks at you, a gleam in his eye that you couldn’t place, “You really want me to be mean?”

“I–” Now it was your turn to look like a fish out of water, and then you realized this was the time to admit it, to tell him what you want. With defeat heavy in your voice, you said, “Yes, I do.”

“Okay,” he breathed, nodding slowly, “I can try.”

“Really?” you raised your brows, staring at him in surprise as if you expected him to say no. But this was Mingi after all, always eager to please, the man who would walk through fire for you. 

“You’ll have to, like… Tell me what you want in more detail, what to do, I mean.”

Your entire face lit up, eyes wide, grin bright, you jumped over the mattress to swing your arms around his neck and your thighs around his hips. You kissed his entire face, perched in his lap, mumbling thank you thank you thank you and he giggled beneath your assault, wrapping his arms around your back, holding you close. 

“Do you wanna do this, like… Now?” He asked when you stopped peppering smooches to the tip of his nose, his voice not quite uneasy, nervously curious. 

“We could,” you shrug, arms still hung over his bare shoulders, “We haven’t fucked since last night.”

“God forbid a day goes by where we don’t have sex,” he teases, his hands sliding down to your ass, squeezing lightly. 

You gasp, dropping your hips to drag against his barely clothed crotch, smirking when you feel him half-hard beneath you. “There should never be a day that goes by where we don’t have sex.”

“As long as you’re still you, there won’t be,” he says, still teasing as he presses his lips to yours, soft and sweet, normal. You sink into him, letting your hips drag over him in a slow but intentional rhythm, allowing your mind to ease, releasing soft gasps as his hands slide up your body, under your shirt. 

No, you didn’t need to do this right now. You didn’t want to. You wanted him, close to you, feeling his warmth and his weight anchoring you, to set the thoughts you’d finally gotten off your chest free. You told him, you’d talk about it, you’d plan, you’d do it. He said yes. God, you love him. You let your hands slide up his biceps, fingers dancing over the sides of his neck, cupping his cheeks to hold your world in your hands. 

“Not tonight,” you whisper into his lips, forgoing an explanation he didn’t need, “I changed my mind. Tonight, I just want you.” 

He smiles, bared teeth pressing against your lips, soft and comforting, home. “Yeah? You sure?” 

“We have time,” you pull him closer, chest to chest, elbows hooked over his shoulders and hips still rocking as if he’d feel the truth laid bare, in your skin, in your breath, in your bones. He didn’t need to change, you didn’t want him to change, if things stayed like this you’d still spend forever by his side. “We have forever.” 

He kissed you again, only breaking it to tug your shirt over your head, tossing it somewhere behind you, hands gliding up your skin with precision, feeling every dip and curve of your body. As if to burn it to memory, as if he didn’t know it already, as if he hasn’t worshiped every inch of your skin before. “I love you,” he murmured into your mouth, bodies still too close to be considered separate. 

“I love you,” you whispered, barely breaking the kiss, eyes closed and heart aching with how much love for him it contained. 

Another Friday, another movie night, another story told by Jeong Yunho. 

Except this time, you and Mingi were more versed in his area of expertise, your listening was active, asking questions, looking deeper. Where you once sat nodding, periodically saying mhm and no way, you were now asking him to explain, asking why. And because Yunho is Yunho, he answered every question with honesty, even over-explaining when your brow quirked too high for his liking. When he read the question on your tongue. 

For the past several days, you and Mingi have been doing research. Articles from legitimate blogs on the internet, books from the library, romance novels pulled from your bookshelf, Mingi had said, “If I’m going to do this, I’m going to do it right.”

You hadn’t quite explored yet together– meaning he hasn’t necessarily slapped you around just yet. He’s taken it slow, tugged on your roots during a blowjob, extended your orgasm by ripping his fingers away at the last second, he even called you a slut once. Just once, though. And he apologized after. 

You didn’t think you could possibly be any more in love with him, but seeing him learn for you, express genuine interest in something you asked for, you couldn’t wait for the wedding  Sana was running her mouth about. But that could wait. For now, you were still exploring, experimenting, basking in the relief of getting this off your chest and doing something about it. You never want to withhold information from your boyfriend again, and Mingi might go into cardiac arrest if he finds out you’ve been sitting on your feelings ever again. 

Mingi’s been honest with you. He’s told you his doubts, his fears, that he’s petrified of doing something wrong, not knowing his own strength and hurting you, saying something vile that he can’t take back. You’ve taken them all in, easing his worries by offering him solutions, reminding him why you’re taking it slow. To set boundaries, to plan, to play, to find out if this is something he’d even enjoy. If either of you would enjoy it. 

Because in theory it sounds wonderful, a wet dream coming from the pits of your ovulation, but to put it into practice… What if either of you hate it? What if your sex life is forever tainted because you’re trying to fix something that isn’t broken? 

Clearly, you’re both overthinkers. But luckily, you’re both good at soothing each other, and Mingi has reminded you the two times that you’ve brought this up that nothing could destroy your sex life, the two of you were made for each other. There wasn’t much room for stress after that. 

Yunho came over with a smile on his face this week, a telltale sign that things were going well with his newest partner. Walking inside empty-handed and talkative, he cracked a can of beer from your refrigerator, starting his story from the beginning as his long legs brought him to your living room. He was playing with her at Wooyoung’s going away party, a detail he left out when he was over last week, when he was too engrossed in the freshness of dating her to get down to the nitty gritty. 

This week he was exploding with things to tell you both, his mouth running a mile a minute, sharing things you nor Mingi asked him to, but didn’t mind hearing. Especially not now. 

“The rules I made with her are different than the ones I’ve made with others,” splayed across the couch he always sat on, Yunho’s Spot you and Mingi call it, a leg hung over the armrest with the other stretched in front of him, he sat lazily, relaxed. Yours and Mingi’s apartment was always a comfort to him. 

“Like how?” You had your head laying on the godforsaken armrest, pillow beneath your head actually providing solace for once, your legs stretched over Mingi’s lap at the other end of the couch. He studied Yunho as he listened, hands on your bare legs, eyebrows bent only enough to imply focus. You knew it was more than just listening to his words, he was memorizing them, saving them for later. The sight made a soft smile live on your cheeks. 

Yunho sucks a breath through his teeth, brows rising as his head tips back in thought, silver hair a contrast to the deep charcoal of the cushion behind him. “She can only wear dresses around me, when we’re in public she has to ask permission to leave my side, she can’t drink unless I allow it, hmm… Oh, I banned bras. And panties.” 

You crane your head to see him over the armrest, mouth gaping and teeth poking out in a smile, a giggle leaving your lips. You fought the urge to say I knew it, instead reiterating, “Bras and panties?!” 

“What’s the point of it, though?” Mingi asked, and Yunho directed his gaze to his best friend, his eyes smiling just as brightly as his lips. Mingi glances between you and Yunho, “All the rules, they just seem… Inconvenient.” 

“Inconvenient for who?” Yunho raises his eyebrows, “Would it be inconvenient for you if your girlfriend walked around without a bra, without panties, in a dress?” 

“Not inconvenient for me, inconvenient for her,” Mingi should have just added duh at the end of his sentence. Yunho knew what he meant, but Mingi couldn’t read between the lines of his answer. Your tongue poked your cheek as your eyes danced between the two men. 

“Then you know the point of it already,” Yunho’s grin was sly, his head tilting ever so slightly, as if he knew why Mingi was questioning him. He never has before. 

Mingi’s lips fell into an O shape, you watched him put the pieces together in real time, another laugh leaving your lips. Mingi glanced at you for a second before his eyebrows knitted again, turning his head to look back at Yunho, “Why couldn’t she drink?” 

“Because it’d make her have to pee, and she has a piss kink,” you knew he was answering honestly by the look on his face, the ease of the words leaving his mouth. “It denied her of having the fun of toying with me and saved me the punishment of fucking her in Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s bathroom.” 

Your jaw dropped as your head whipped around the armrest, gaping at Yunho, “You’d really do that?” 

“If she disobeyed me?” He raised his brows, “In a heartbeat.” 

“In their bathroom?” Mingi’s eyes were as wide as yours, the corner of his upper lip bent upward in disbelief. 

“I would have done it in front of all of you if I had the consent of everyone in the room.” He said it so casually, too casually, as if this was normal, common. It could be these days, for all you know. 

Yours and Mingi’s eyes meet as surprise and intrigue cross his features, as if he was picturing himself doing it. As if he was curating a list of rules for you, too. You assumed you wouldn’t have to wash as many pairs of panties from now on. 

Mingi’s eyes trailed back to Yunho, you watched him swallow, the gulp of spit passing down his throat. “And when you say punishment…” 

Yunho smiles, daring and wicked, his eyes flaring with amusement. He sits up straighter, white tee pressed against the back of the couch, ankle crossed over his knee, he wouldn’t let your rare curiosity go to waste.  

You change spots, too, laying your head on Mingi’s lap instead of your legs, propping them up on the criminally uncomfortable armrest. You made a mental note to start looking for a new couch. Mingi lays a hand in your hair, not moving, just resting, as if he needed to touch you to feel grounded. 

“The humiliation,” Yunho released a dragged out breath, as if he loved the word, loved its meaning, the action. “I would have put her over my knee, made her tell everyone watching what she did, why it was wrong.”

Mingi blinked, his lips parted, as if he couldn’t fathom why in the world Yunho would do that. “You’d let everyone see that? See her?” 

Yunho shrugs, “If everyone was into it.” 

“She obeyed you though, right?” You ask, and he raises his eyebrows in your direction, acknowledging you, “Does she get, like… Rewarded for that?” 

Yunho smiled, a proud look sitting on his face, a soft nod of his head. “Of course she does, well, she did.” 

You raised a brow, imploring him, and his smile grew as if he could read every thought in your mind. “You two are curious tonight.” 

You can feel the embarrassment in your cheeks, and as you look up to Mingi, you see a faint blush spread over his nose. If you could see his ears from where you laid, you’d bet they tipped red, too. Neither of you are being shy with your curiosity, and it was clear. 

Yunho didn’t wait for either of you to answer, “I’ll bite. We didn’t even get back to my place, to be honest. She got to finish twice in the car, another three times when we got back for good behavior.” 

A huh? ripped from your chest, a disbelieving sound, just as Mingi screeched, “Five?!” 

You thought back to when she went to the bathroom at the party, how she tugged on Yunho’s wrist before she went inside, how he nodded toward her in allowance. You wonder if you’d be willing to let it be taken so far, or if you truly just wanted to be slapped around. You supposed you would if five orgasms were waiting for you afterward. 

“They weren’t easy, don’t say it like that,” Yunho waved a hand, long fingers bending the air around him, “I was forcing them out of her by the end of it. She likes overstimulation.” 

You peeked up at Mingi again, whose lips you think were going to stay permanently parted for the duration of the conversation, with his thick, deep eyebrows touching his hairline. He was shocked— so were you, even if neither of you should be, you’re no strangers to multiple orgasms in a session. But five, for good behavior, a reward like that, it almost made you hand your boyfriend a notepad and a pen and say Yes, I want that. 

Yunho’s laugh sends a shiver down your spine, your body involuntarily jerking at the noise, head shifting in your boyfriend’s lap. It sounded borderline condescending, which you weren’t sure if you were making up, or if it was on purpose. Your eyes widened as you felt it, the fucking boner Mingi was sporting beneath your head. He knew you felt it, you could see it all over his face, the blush you thought was from the nature of the conversation, no, he was horny, and Yunho didn’t seem like he was anywhere near done with the conversation. 

Realization hits that Mingi must be thinking about doing that to you, and he’s hard. You might have started jumping for joy if you didn’t have to explain to both men why. 

“You guys look like you’ve never heard anything like this in your life,” Yunho’s laugh is still showing on his cheeks, the way his head is tilted, his eyebrows slightly raised, smugness oozing off of him. “I’ve told you stories before.” 

“Yeah, but…” You cut yourself off, swallowing down the answer you were about to give. He didn’t need to know you were experimenting, or attempting to. No one needed to know. “It’s just crazy.” 

“Yeah, you’re crazy,” Mingi adds from above you, the both of you nodding your agreement, hiding why you’re both so god damn affected. His clothed cock pressing against your head, having to pretend like it isn’t there, Yunho so easily talking about how he punishes and rewards his partners, how arrogance seemed to be possessing him, it was all too much. 

Yunho raises his brows, his smile still present on closed lips, as if the two of you were transparent. Completely see through, thoughts and feelings laid bare for him to see. If you could peer into Yunho’s mind you might see that he’s enjoying this, that he knows exactly what he's doing, toying with the two of you might be the most fun he’s had in months. 

He can see how pathetic the two of you are, you’re wearing it. Too many ideas are brewing in his mind, ones he’s positive he can never verbalize, but if the two of you kept looking at him like that…

“I’ve told you worse, remember when that one girl thought it’d be funny to flirt with that random guy, when we all went out to the club? It was back in February I think,” Yunho’s glancing between you both now, like he doesn’t want to miss a single reaction painted on your faces. “I tied her up and left her alone in the bedroom, in the dark, for an hour?” 

You gulped. You remembered this story. Mingi was only growing beneath you, he remembered this story, too. 

“She was a crying fucking mess by the time I went back in, so wet, didn’t take any prep at all for me to fuck her. She didn’t cum once that night. Never did that shit again, though.” 

Your breath hitched in your throat. You think of a few weeks ago, when Yunho was once again across from the two of you, when you put space between yourself and Mingi, a part of you hoping he’d fuck the brat out of you. You couldn’t even imagine Mingi tying you up and leaving you alone, he’d probably be crying before you would, or he wouldn’t even leave the room. But the thought of it… If he could… You crossed an ankle over the other, trying to create some kind of pressure between your thighs, friction to alleviate your core that was beginning to throb. 

Mingi’s grip tightened ever so slightly in your hair and you knew he was showing you the restraint he was quickly losing, that he needed you. Your eyelids fluttered at the feeling. 

“How did you get into this? This, uh, lifestyle,” Mingi’s voice was shallow, his mouth drying, he was feeling it just as much as you were. You don’t even know if you heard his question let alone the answer, not when you could feel his cock under you, begging to be touched, probably leaking, the tip red and aching…

Mingi pressed a finger to your cheek and your lips fucking parted. He was only trying to get your attention. “You okay?” Mingi asked, need flashing in his eyes, an unspoken question, a statement. Oh, Yunho has done it now. 

I need you.  You blinked. Now? A small nod. Now. Get him out. 

“Not feeling too good, honestly,” you pouted, letting a hand fall across your forehead, “Do I feel warm to you?” 

Mingi’s lips scrunched trying to hide his smile, you were the better liar out of the two of you. His palm hit your forehead, “Hm, you do feel warm.” 

“Let me feel,” Yunho crossed the living room in a quick stride, his hand falling to your forehead fast, before you or Mingi could think up a silly excuse. His hand damn near laid from ear to ear, sending a spark of something through your entire body. “Damn, you are warm.”

He needed to get out, now. You give him a weak smile, “Must be coming down with something, I’m sorry to cut the movie night short.” 

He shakes his head, then clasps Mingi’s hand, and goes to grab his keys off the coffee table, “Don’t worry about it, there’s always next week, Iron Man can wait. Feel better.” 

“Thanks, Yun,” you call after him, tucking your smile away until you hear the front door close— 

Mingi pounces. Strong arms tugging you onto his lap, assaulting your lips with his own, rough palms slipping under your shirt, thumbs hooking into your waistband. There was no time to waste. 

“Fuck,” he cursed into your mouth as you rolled your hips against him, shorts dragging against his sweatpants, and you smiled at his sensitivity. “Fuck, I need you.” 

“Yeah?” You rolled your hips again, harder this time, “That bad?” 

His fingers tighten on your hips, digging into your skin, his jaw going slack, mouth unresponsive against yours. You let your hands feel up his chest, his shoulders, his neck, lips ghosting his jawline as he guides your hips against his. 

His head tilts back as your lips attack a sensitive part of his neck, right below his ear. His voice comes out deep but breathy as he says, “Wanna make you cum five times, too.” 

Excitement shoots up your spine. You sit back, hands resting on his shoulders, a grin on your cheeks, “Do it, then.” 

He scoops you off his lap and falls to his knees, a muted thump was heard as cotton covered skin hit the hardwood of your floor, he laid you on your back as if you were fragile, made of glass. Your legs parted after he slipped your shorts off anyway. 

You kept your hands in his hair as his tongue worked you open, your first orgasm coming quickly, easily, praises falling off your lips, skull digging into the floor beneath you. Mingi didn’t stop, though, not as his black locks ran taut between your fingers as you pulled in an attempt to get him away, when the pleasure became too much. 

It was on purpose, the pleasure was fucking blinding, pleasure and pain, the sting of your orgasm that never fully finished turning into another, a pit in your stomach that ached with every swipe of his tongue. Your hips bucked, trying to chase him away, attempting to overpower strong arms holding you down by the bone. 

“Mingi— holy shit,” you cried, eyes wide and staring down at him where he was doing anything but looking up at you. Focused, tongue moving in perfect circles, flicking at your clit with enough precision to tell you he wasn’t letting up. Your movements seized, joints locking up, breath getting caught in your throat as he pulled you under, forcing another orgasm to wash over you. 

He ate you through it again before you were keeling, abdomen clenching, body jerking enough to where it was annoying for him to keep holding you down. His lips let go with a pop, sucking in a deep gust of air as your bones went fluid, body sinking into the hardwood floor. 

Mingi smacked his teeth with plump, swollen lips. He lifted himself up by his arms, saying with a steady voice, “Turn over.” 

You opened your eyes again, staring at hunger incarnate, “On my knees?” 

He lifted himself farther, sitting on his calves, wrapping his fingers loosely around your ankles where they sat planted on the floor. Again, he said, “Turn over.” 

You blinked, “I can’t if you’re holding my ankles like that.”

In a quick motion, he pulled you toward him, forearm scooping under your back, and your palms were pressed to the hardwood floor in a second’s time, knees stinging as the deep swirls of oak stared back at you. You hissed, “Fuck, that hurt.” 

Hands that were already sliding up the backs of your thighs paused, “You okay?” 

You smiled, thinking of all the limits you’ve discussed in the past weeks, your safe word, what to do in case you couldn’t say it. “I know what to say if I’m not.” 

“Good.” 

Your elbows hit the floor as his fingers slipped inside, his other hand holding onto your ass, squeezing your skin. “O-Oh my God, Min,” you cried, letting your forehead drop to your open palms, your back arched up into him as his fingers hooked into you, hitting that spongy spot inside, your toes curling, shins lifting off the floor. 

It was overwhelming. Yunho had left barely ten minutes ago and you’d already came twice, Mingi working you up to a third without any reprieve. You could hear the smile on his face as he asked, “You gonna cum again? Gonna be good for me?” 

You wailed as his fingers assaulted the spot, slipping in and out of you, curling, massaging, your body jerking at every movement he made. He sucked in a breath before he pulled his hand off your ass, letting it fall back down with a heavy smack, “Answer me.” 

Your moan was treacherous, loud, somewhere between a score of pleasure and a cry of pain as you came again. Weaker this time but still as blinding as the first, you shook, he hit you. Not as hard and not as confident as he could be, it was still pain mixing with the pleasure, a cocktail of endurance and emotion, a step forward. 

“Baby,” you could barely hear as both hands soothed your ass cheeks, rubbing circles into the skin. “Answer me, my love, need you to say something.” 

You weren’t sure if your consciousness was still inside your skin, or if you were floating somewhere beyond. 

His hands hooked into the crevice where your hips met your thighs, pulling you backward into his lap, moving and dropping you as if you were light as a feather. He was moving too fast, your brain could barely keep up, overwhelmed and overstimulated. You sunk into him, the smell of him pulling you back down to earth, the heat of his cheek pressed against your head warming you. “I’m okay,” your voice came out weak, lagged, tired. Your knees burned, but the fire he had lit inside your belly blazed. 

“You swear?” He took your chin in his hand with care, forcing you to look up at him, concern bubbling wildly in his eyes. 

You nodded, “I swear. You can keep going.” 

He kept you in his lap, his hands moving slower now, uneasy. Fear bled into you with every touch, under your tee, as he unclipped your bra, even fumbling with the clasp. You could taste his nerves. 

But his cock still stayed hard beneath you, pressed up against your back. After he tugged off your shirt and bra you faced him, bare legs wrapping around his hips, your boyfriend fully clothed where you sat naked, but not uncomfortable at the difference. You let your lips crash into his again, picking up speed, trying to show him your hunger when his had gotten foggy, masked with fear and concern. 

He let you lead him, tongue dancing with yours, his hands sliding over your skin with more confidence now, more pressure. You smiled into him, “You still owe me two more.” 

He matched your smile, “And here I thought we were past your insatiability.” 

You let your bare center drag over his clothed length, gasping when it brushed against your clit just right. “I want you inside me.” 

“I’m supposed to be telling you what to do,” his hands fell to your hips, grinding you against him harder, grinning when your head fell to his shoulder. 

“Then tell me how you want me to ride you,” you mumbled into covered skin, your hands sneaking beneath the hem of his tee, fingers tracing his toned abdomen. 

“Why do you get all the power?” He placed his hands under your ass, lifting you to shift onto his knees, you yelped when he stood up, easily holding you steady through the movement. A show of strength, a display of dominance, one that sent all the blood on your body straight to your still pulsing clit. 

You clung to him on the walk to the bedroom, your arms hooked around his neck, adrenaline thrumming beneath your skin. All the daydreams you’ve had and research you’ve done was paying off now. This was better than anything you could’ve imagined. 

He threw you onto the bed before he tugged his shirt over his head by the collar, pulling his sweats down just enough for his cock to spring out. Standing before you in all his glory, Mingi’s cheeks were pink, eyes glossed over and hazy, hair shooting out in four different directions atop his head thanks to your incessant pulling. God, he was fucking beautiful, you sat up on your knees and crawled towards him, wanting to taste—

He stepped back so you couldn’t reach, his right hand wrapping around the base of his cock, squeezing when it was already red and leaking, just as you imagined. You pouted. He raised his eyebrows. “You want my cock, don’t you?” 

You met his eyes to find arrogance, something you’ve only seen on your boyfriend a handful of times. You swallowed down the thrill, nodding your head, “Yes, I want it.” 

He pumped the length of his cock, a groan sneaking out of his lips, his head falling to the side, eyes fluttering shut. You gasped at the view, your eyes trying to catch the full length of him, not knowing where to look, not wanting to miss anything. Slowly, he built up a rhythm, and you whimpered from your spot on the baby pink comforter. 

“Please, let me,” your eyes stayed glued to the way his hand dragged down the length of his cock, how his tip leaked beads of precum, lubing up his hand. He ignored you. “Mingi, please. I need it.” 

He groaned instead, his hand pumping faster, until he finally opened his eyes. In a low, lazy voice, he moaned, “Fuck, feels so fuckin’ good.” 

Your mouth hung open at the sight, he really wasn’t going to let you touch him. Was it because you told him to fuck you? He really thought you were taking the power from him? 

“Please, Mingi,” you were whining now, fists balling at the comforter beneath you, eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip jutted outward. 

He tsked. “Get down here. On your knees.” 

You’ve never moved faster in your life. Sitting on your calves before him, knees burning again, hands in your lap, staring up at him with every hope in the world, you waited for instruction. He wasn’t fucking around. 

He pumped his cock faster, palm circling the tip, squeezing his hand as stuttered moans poured from his lips. He wasn’t even looking at you, eyes focused on his cock, “Open your mouth.” 

With your tongue out you sat up on your knees, eyes glued to his cock, waiting for his cum. Your cunt throbbed between your thighs, three orgasms weren’t enough, you needed more, you needed him, his cock filling you up, to cum around it. His moans grew in pitch as his wrist jerked faster, stuttering, his hips bucking forward into his hand, his eyebrows knitted together. It took everything you had not to slip a hand between your legs. At least you were a quick learner. 

He came with a loud groan, ropes of white hitting your tongue, your nose, your cheeks, your eyebrows. You moaned with him as you felt the warmth on your skin, swallowing him down, licking your lips to catch what you could. 

“Good girl,” his voice had dropped another octave, as if he was getting comfortable in his rank now, dominance surrounding him like an aura. You smiled up at him, stars in your eyes as he took his thumb to your face, scooping his cum off of your cheeks, nose, eyebrows, then promptly shoved it past your lips. 

You gagged at the sudden intrusion, but swallowed him down anyway, lips wrapping around his thumb to suck it clean, tongue sliding against the underside. He patted your head with his other hand, a small smile sitting pretty on his cheeks, “So good for me, baby. Kiss me.” 

You stood up on wobbly legs and kissed him, he could probably taste the gratitude on your tongue, how much you fucking loved this, loved him. He moved to sit back on the edge of the bed, never breaking the kiss, hands on your waist, tongue licking into your mouth to taste the leftover remnants of his release. Your knees planted into the mattress as you climbed on top of him again, a hand between your bodies, slipping his cock between your folds, spreading the wetness where it gathered. 

“Holy shit,” he gasped out, breaking away from your lips to glance down between you, “You’re so fucking wet.” 

“That was so fucking hot,” you said in the same tone he used as he looked back up to meet your eyes, “You’ve never done anything like that before. I’m dying.” 

He huffs a laugh into your lips, “Dying is dramatic.” 

You kissed him again, “And I meant it.” 

You dragged your core along his shaft, sliding over his length, and he hisses into your mouth in overstimulation. You smile, “Now you know how it feels.” 

“Sit on it,” he grabs his cock with one hand, your hip in the other, completely ignoring your remark, “Now.” 

You cursed under your breath at the tone of his voice, at the desperation and order mixing together, how badly he wanted you, needed to feel you, yet overstimulating himself to do it. His cock was already hard again in his hand as you lined yourself up on top of him, hands bracing yourself on his shoulders as you started to sink down slowly, taking him inch by inch with ease. 

The sound was deafening, how pathetic the two of you sounded, the whine-coated moans cracking from your gut. Your nails clawed into his shoulders, eyes screwed shut at the stretch, at how easily he slipped inside. His voice was strained, “Too fucking tight, gotta open up for me, relax.” 

You were too excited, your joints locked up from adrenaline and anticipation. You took a deep breath, letting your body relax, unlocking your limbs, forehead falling forward to rest against his. His hands come up to your waist, rubbing circles into your back, “There you go, my love, you feel so fucking good.” 

You whimpered at the praise, hips bucking forward involuntarily, “Can I move?” 

“Go ahead, baby,” he said, letting go of your waist, leaning back against the mattress on his elbows, “Show me how badly you wanted to ride my cock.” 

Your jaw went slack at the words, hips immediately picking up and dropping back down on him, your hands sliding up your stomach to pinch at your nipples. You bounced on him slowly at first, watching his face contort in pleasure, letting the sound of him guide you, encourage you. Eyebrows slanted and lips parted he moaned and moaned, hips jerking into you every few thrusts, silently telling you to pick up the pace. 

“Mingi,” you breathed, a hand on his abdomen, using it to balance your pace, “Choke me?” 

His eyes widened, “I— I don’t—”

You reached an arm forward, this was one of his unsure areas, where he was scared of his own strength, of hurting you seriously. You wrapped a hand around his throat, fingers pressing into the sides, “Like this.” 

The moan he released stopped you completely. It happened in slow motion, the squeeze of your fingers, how his lips parted, his eyes rolling into the back of his head, how you pulsed around his cock at the sight, at the sound. 

Now it was your turn to widen your eyes in surprise, “Oh.” 

He brought his hand up to wrap around yours, his hips fucking up into you harshly, overwhelming your nervous system, shattering your god damn mind. Oh, he really liked that. You couldn’t fight the smile breaking across your cheeks, your words coming out jagged through his thrusts, “You liked that?” 

He whimpered, broken through the pressure of your fingertips, and a small, shy nod of his head. You just wanted to show him how. Encourage him to do it himself. This opened another door completely. 

You released him after a moment and he took a deep breath, eyes wild, gasping out, “Holy shit.” 

You nodded with a wicked smile, your hips picking up the pace, “You really liked it?” 

“Do it again,” he whispered, pushing himself up by his forearms, pressing his chest against yours as you changed your speed, rocking against him, a dirty grind against his cock as your fingertips danced over his throat. 

You leaned in, whispering, “Kiss me,” against his lips, and he did, his mouth following your lead, up until you tightened your grip around his throat and pressed into the sides with light pressure. 

“Fuck,” he whimpered against your lips, the sound broken and raw, and his jaw went slack again, his eyelids fluttering, his cock throbbing inside you. You could have fun with this. 

You dropped your hips against him harshly, making him jolt into you, not a thought behind his fucking eyes as they widened, “So desperate, I told you to kiss me, didn’t I?” 

“I can’t,” he cried, eyes closed, chin tipped back, “Feels so fucking good. Harder, please.” 

You laughed in disbelief as you picked up your pace, the begging felt good, great even, your body consumed by another pleasure entirely. This was incredible. Maybe you could understand why Yunho does what he does, the sheer pleasure he must feel from breaking his partners down, having them at their wits end beneath him.

Having Mingi like this was unexpected but so fucking hot, even under a spell his cock was still hitting that perfect spot inside you, making you moan in tandem with him, a song of pleasure and worship filling the room, masking the noise of skin slapping against skin. 

You let him go to brace your hands on his shoulders and his head fell against your chest, lazily kissing at your skin, his hands coming behind you to graze his fingernails down your back, making you hiss out at the sting. “Shit, Min.” 

He whimpered again, making your hips stutter as you tried to ride him harder, faster, clenching around his length, and his fingers clawed at you deeper. Your back arched, “Yes, feels so good inside me, you’re so fucking perfect.” 

“Need you to cum,” he said against your chest, a mumble of words, barely comprehensible. He glances up at you through his lashes, eyes sparkling and vulnerable, “Need to feel you cum, need it. Wanna fill you up.” 

Your face twisted in pleasure, at the look on his fucking face, “Oh— Oh my God.” 

You clenched again and he whined, “Fuck, I’m gonna fucking cum.” 

“Wait,” you barked out, rushing a hand between your bodies to rub at your clit, “Hold it.” 

His head tipped back, his features scrunching together, hands slipping down to your hips to squeeze, to guide you into fucking him harder. Deeper. 

You gasped out a cry as you drew quick circles on your clit, still bouncing on him with the same rhythm, “F-Fuck, I’m so close, fuck, Min.” 

“Yes,” he encouraged, “Cum for me, wanna feel it. Wanna feel you cum around me, please baby, give it to me.” 

Your hips stuttered as you felt your high hit its peak, Mingi whining at the loss of rhythm, leaning back on his elbows to fuck up into you, his legs pushing against the bed frame surrounding your mattress. Your orgasm crashed over you, sending you forward, body folding in on itself as your vision went white, ears ringing as your body collided into his. 

Mingi cried out, hips bucking and jerking into you to get himself off until he filled you up with his second load of the night, a sigh full of pleasure and contentment escaping him as he finished, his joints finally unlocking, laying flat against the bed. 

After a moment his arms curled around you, pulling you up, laying your head on his chest from where you landed awkwardly over him. His hand went into your hair, rubbing lazy circles into your scalp, pressing his lips to the top of your head. 

“Did I kill you?” He asked, voice teasing, and you grumbled a noise in response. “We can talk about it tomorrow if you want, but we still have to get you all cleaned up. Don’t fall asleep yet.” 

You stuck your tongue out, licking the patch of his skin that was just beside your mouth to show him you were awake, making him shuffle in discomfort. He let out a small, disgruntled sound of surprise, “Eugh, don’t lick me.” 

“Are you serious?” You picked your head up ever so slightly to see his face, which didn’t look disgusted at all. 

A sweet smile sat on his cheeks, one not embarrassed, not shy, not regretful, but happy. You could have sighed in relief if you weren’t absolutely exhausted. He faked a pout, “You look so tired, and I still have one more orgasm to give you.” 

He laughed when your face twisted in surprise and fear, you don’t think you even have the strength for a shower. 

But because Mingi is perfect and knows you better than you know yourself, he ran the two of you a bath. 

And you talked. A little. 

But he definitely ripped that fifth one out of you. 

You did end up talking about it the next day. 

And the day after that, and the day after that, for two weeks. It seemed you and Mingi couldn’t stop talking about it, that night, his words, his assertiveness, how he jerked himself off onto your face, how your hands wrapped around his throat. It quickly snowballed into more, the two of you turning into monsters, it was as if your insatiability had grown a twin and possessed your boyfriend. 

“I don’t know what happened,” at your favorite coffee shop in town the next day, the two of you sat cozied up in a booth, laptops out, but the last thing you were doing was working. “Something inside me, like, opened I guess. You put your hand around my neck and I thought I was gonna cum on the spot.” 

With your cheek in your palm, you swirled your straw in your coffee cup, the doc you had open on your laptop screen long forgotten. “You really never thought you’d be into anything like that?” 

Mingi shrugged, bringing his attention back to his screen, he drew mindless circles on his keypad with his finger. With his eyes on his laptop, big navy frames sitting on his nose, he admitted, “I don’t know, I never really thought about it.” 

“Funny how I was trying to show you how to choke me,” you teased, lifting your head from your hand, straightening in the booth. “And here we found out something new about you.” 

He rolled his eyes, a shy smile growing on his cheeks, still not looking at you, “Yeah, yeah, I owe you one.” 

“No, not at all,” you shake your head, “We should just see what happens. What the vibe is when we’re in it, you know?” 

He meets your eyes, cheeks dusted pink, “You’re okay with it? Like… If I asked you to do that to me again, you’re okay with it?” 

Your eyes nearly bulged out of your head, was he embarrassed? You leaned forward, keeping your expression serious, “Song Mingi, that was one of the hottest things I have ever seen you do. One of the hottest things I’ve ever seen, actually.” 

His eyebrows raised in surprise, as if he wasn’t expecting that answer. You smiled, hoping it came off as reassuring as you needed it to, “You’re not the only person that learned something about themself last night.” 

His lips curled up at the edges, lopsided smile crawling across his cheeks, “I still wanna try doing it to you.” 

“Good, because so do I,” you leaned back in the booth, still smiling, and you hoped his chest felt lighter, because yours definitely did. 

The next morning, he beckoned you awake by peppering kisses to your forehead, your cheeks, your nose, your lips, but his hand sliding between your legs is what had your eyes finally opening. 

You hummed in delight, sleepy mind curating nonsense to mumble as you stretched your arms over your head, spreading your knees to welcome to intrusion, the skilled fingers that knew exactly what they were doing. 

Silently he worked you open, pressing kisses to your lips, slipping his tongue into your mouth to really get you there— he forced the taste of an orgasm on your tongue before he ripped it away, popping his fingers into his mouth instead. 

You almost cursed him out for it, eyes wide, jaw dropped and pissed, but he just smiled.

“Be good for me today and you can have the rest later.” 

You wore a scowl the entire day, even if thrill was coursing through your blood, excitement for what awaited you at home. He texted you mid-day while you were hard at work at your desk, asking for a present, a sexy picture in your job’s bathroom mirror. 

You swallowed down your embarrassment, ears burning as you sped to the bathroom, eyes darting all around your office to make sure no one noticed, that no one saw you. An absurd fear. 

Relief washed over you when the bathroom was empty and you quickly pulled your skirt down to your thighs, your ass laying right over the hem, plump and picturesque. You took a few, sending them all to him immediately, feeling scandalous and prideful that you’d done something so sexual in your job’s bathroom, and didn’t get caught. 

He sent back a picture of the print of his cock through his slacks, his hand squeezing the base, his veins popping through his pearly skin, the watch sitting on his wrist making it so much hotter. With a caption just as incriminating as the photo, you salivated, tongue swimming in saliva as your thighs squeezed together beneath your desk, lip caught between your teeth. 

Your body burned as you set your phone down, barely able to concentrate on your work as you completed your day, fighting with your mind to keep focus. By the time you got home he was waiting for you, already hard, stripping the skirt off your hips before you’d fully made it through the threshold of your apartment. 

Five seemed like a lucky number for you two now, how many times you’d finished on various places of his body, on his fingers, his tongue, his cock, his thigh. The fifth came to you with his palm wrapped around your throat, squeezing harder than you ever thought he would, confidence oozing off of him as he drilled into you with your back against his chest. 

The next day you seemed to switch places. You tapped into that side of yourself you just met, making Mingi a mess beneath you, tears and sweat and saliva, you took it all in stride with a smile on your face, eyes blazing with a wickedness Mingi’s never seen on you before. It was experimental and fun, fumbling hands and stuttered words, Mingi submitted to you even if you weren’t fully confident in your dominance. 

You’d never degraded anyone before, much less your angelic boyfriend, it was a true fight to come up with nasty things to say, but that’s where your research had come into play. If either of you had an ounce of consciousness inside of the bubble you’d created together, you could probably pick apart where each and every piece of your words, actions, where everything had come from. 

You two had become obsessed, every waking moment had turned sexual, doing and talking, talking and doing, you couldn’t get enough of each other. You started to feel silly for thinking your sex life would be ruined when, if anything, it had gotten better, somehow more active, because you both had turned insatiable. Mingi couldn’t make fun of you anymore, not when he was just as fucking horny as you were. 

As deep as you were in it, the learning, the experimenting, something tugged at you. Maybe it was how you couldn’t grow fully confident in the weeks you’ve played, how you fumbled your words still, or when your hands didn’t quite know where to go, what to say, when to pull away. You knew learning never truly stopped, especially with something as severe as tapping into BDSM dynamics, but you found yourself stumped more than once, and that was enough to consider researching more. 

Especially the night when you and Mingi had fallen into your sheets, a mess of lips and tongues and nails, waiting for the other to take the lead. Fighting for dominance but never winning, leaving room for the other to take charge, to set the tone for how the session would go. Ten minutes of kissing and muttering filthy words in each other’s ears, you knew he was feeling it, too. 

Above you, he paused, lips parted and hands planted beside your head, chest heaving with adrenaline and slight confusion. You stared at each other for a moment, reading the feelings in each other’s eyes, before a laugh erupted from Mingi’s chest and had you giggling along with him. 

“Shit, are we plateauing?” He flopped down next to you on his back, amusement laced in every word, eyes never leaving you once. 

You giggled more, letting your head fall to the side to look at him, tilted smile on his lips and deep, hooded eyes. “I’m not gonna lie, I was kinda hoping you were gonna toss me around tonight.” 

“That’s funny, I was kinda hoping you were gonna edge me until I cried,” he responded plainly, as if the words spilling from his lips weren’t completely filthy. You both laughed before you let out verbal breaths, a sound to fill the comfortable silence, then met each other’s eyes again. 

“Well?” You asked, raising your brows at him, “What the hell do we do now?”

Neither of you knew, and you didn’t have an outlet to turn to. Instead you fucked slow, back to your roots, praises and kisses and soothing touches that felt incredible but still didn’t scratch the itch. The two of you needed more, something to help when you were both feeling submissive, looking for the same type of pleasure. 

It wasn’t something you needed. No, you think it might be… Someone. Another person to help. The thought left you feeling uneasy. 

You and Mingi have never once talked about opening up your relationship to anyone. Not once in your years together have you discussed a threesome, it’s been years since you’ve experienced a shred of jealousy, never once an inkling of disloyalty. Yours and Mingi’s relationship was the poster for perfection, and opening the door to someone else, even if it was all purely sexual, for education purposes, felt… Weird. Strange. Unwelcome. 

Even if you were to say yes, who the hell would you ask? You only know one Dom, one person with enough experience in this area to help you. You forbade the thought for days to come. 

Until it happened again. 

The two of you weren’t as rough this time, kisses pressed to skin and hands slipping between legs, but it was still there. Mingi was whimpering into your mouth, a sound you’ve learned came from a very specific mindset, when he needed to be taken care of, when he was feeling needy. 

And you had a long fucking day. 

Your boss had assigned your team with a project that wasn’t anywhere near your area of expertise, accompanied by a deadline that didn’t seem humanly possible. When you had brought it up to him, he was not nice, stern and angry with you for not ‘doing what you get paid to do’ when this particular assignment was under his job criteria. It wasn’t fair, you had stress bottled up inside you from your head to your toes, you hadn’t even had sex on your mind today let alone coming home to dominate your boyfriend. 

Your skin burned with every touch Mingi gave, you so badly wanted him to flip you around, take you with no prep, laying harsh slaps against your skin with a hand wrapped around your throat, you wanted these feelings fucked out of you. If you were going to fuck, you wanted to be fucked. There was so much negativity built up inside you from the day you yearned for your mind to go blank, to fall into that corner of consciousness where you didn’t have to be. Where Mingi made decisions for you, where he decided what was best. 

“What’s wrong?” With his eyebrows furrowed in concern he pulled you into his chest, hands cradling your cheeks with soft palms, as if you would break in his grasp. 

Fuck. Your throat tightened, your bottom lip jutted outward, your eyes closing to try and force the tears ripping their way through your ducts down. Mingi held you closer, threading a hand through your hair, scratching his nails into your scalp to soothe you, “Baby, what happened? What’s wrong?” 

You sobbed into his chest, guilt racking through you with every breath, you didn’t know what to do. So consumed with the stress of your day and now Mingi wanted you to perform for him, you couldn’t do it. You didn’t answer at first, and he didn’t pry, he laid you down with him instead, letting you cry into his chest while rubbing circles into your back, kissing your head every few minutes, holding you close. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally choked out, eyes opening only to see his tear-soaked tee before you. 

He moved his hands to cup your cheeks again, holding your head up to look at him, thumbs swiping under your eyes to paint your tears onto your skin. “What’s wrong, my love? Did I do something?” 

You shook your head in his hold, “No, no, it’s not you. I just had a really long, fucked up day, and I can’t…” Another sob ripped from your chest, “…I can’t do this tonight.” 

“Baby,” the word laced with the ache from his own chest, he continued, “You don’t need to, you never need to, we don’t have to do anything.” 

You sniffed, you couldn’t imagine what you looked like right now. Mingi’s seen worse, though, he’s seen everything. You pouted, involuntarily sniffing up the last of your cries, voice still broken and uneasy, “That’s the thing. I want to, I just don’t want to think, I want you to take my mind off of it. But I think you want the same from me.” 

He blinked at you, concern and thought drinking up every inch of his face, he didn’t know what to say, either. It was a crossroads. He couldn’t just say Okay, I’ll dominate you tonight— it wouldn’t feel right. You wouldn’t want him to, either, you only want it if he wants it. Just like he only wants it if you want it. 

He looses a breath, running a hand through your hair again, thumb swiping under your eye with his other hand, “Why don’t I run us a bath, order some takeout, and we can sit and watch a movie? Then tomorrow when we’re clear-headed and you’re feeling better, we can talk about this. What to do when it happens.” 

You nodded into his hands, bottom lip quivering, because God, you were so fucking lucky. He washed every inch of your body in the steaming hot water, massaging into your shoulders, your scalp as he washed your hair. He had you smiling and giggling by the time you got dressed, after he ordered takeout, and then the two of you talked about your day. He listened actively, he hated your boss already, now that dislike just ran deeper. You watched a comedy, both laughing and talking through the whole thing, cuddled up next to each other before you fell asleep on the couch with every limb on your bodies intertwined. 

“Wait, so you’re both switches?” Yunho faces the two of you in his spot, feet planted on the floor, elbows resting on his thighs with his fingers interlocked. His eyebrows laced together in focus as he listened to your story from the beginning, ready to guide you, to give the advice you asked him for. 

You and Mingi knew you weren’t going to get anywhere from websites, informational books or romance novels, this was a problem you needed to speak to someone about. A real life human with knowledge, experience, the one person you both know and trust to help you with your little problem. The decision to ask him didn’t come easy, days were spent talking it out, the pros and the cons of opening up your sex life enough to let someone peer inside. None of your friends knew a single detail about yours and Mingi’s sex life, it wasn’t information you gave away easily. 

But this? This felt necessary. 

You sat with your legs crossed on your couch in your comfiest clothes, and Mingi sat stretched out beside you in an outfit that nearly matched yours. Yunho had walked inside complaining about his latest conquest, a six pack in his hand, ready to drink and forget all about it, maybe pass out on your couch. He was even dressed for the date he was supposed to go on, slacks and a long linen shirt, the top three buttons unbuttoned. Clearly, coming here was a last resort, or an answer to his own problems. 

Until you and Mingi bombarded him with your own. 

Yunho seemed excited to dive into your sex life, though. From all the stories he’s told, he’s barely ever gotten a detail out of one of you, one sided experiences shared without ever getting a glimpse inside of what you two do when you’re alone. He set the six pack down on the second shelf of your refrigerator and sat down in his spot across your living room, urging you two to spill. 

“I guess so?” You look at Mingi and then back to Yunho, “I don’t know how else I’d describe it. It depends on the night.” 

Yunho smiles in disbelief, “I would have never expected that. If I had to guess, I’d say you’re the dom, and Mingi’s your sub.” 

“He’d love it that way,” you joked, nudging Mingi with your elbow, the six foot man beside you who wore the gentlest smile. “All of this started because I wanted him to throw me around a bit.”  

“Hm,” Yunho sits back on his couch, crossing a leg over the other, his arm stretching across the back. “That’s a lot to discover, you haven’t been doing it for long, then?” 

“A month and some change, I believe,” your boyfriend nods in Yunho’s direction. “At this point I think we’re just confused. We’re extremely similar and our feelings line up more often than they don’t, it’s hard to differentiate when one of us wants to be the one in control. Or doesn’t want to be, in our case.” 

“Wait, wait,” Yunho raises a hand, “Let me see if I’m getting this right. The issue at hand is that neither of you want to be in control?” 

“Sometimes,” you add, “Not all the time. The issue is what to do when that happens.” 

Yunho laughs, and it’s a shrill sound that slithers down your spine, ringing in your ears like a wake up call. You think you can read the words in his mind, on his tongue, the easiest solution here, and it terrifies you when he actually says it. 

“Why don’t you just call up a third when it happens?” 

So simple. So easy. Like you and Mingi haven’t been together for years, like your sex life was some measly thing you could invite others into, as if it meant nothing. That was dangerous territory. 

But you suppose you’ve been in dangerous territory for over a month anyhow. 

You glance at Mingi who seemed to be thinking the same thing as you. He’s the one who turns to Yunho and says, “I don’t know if that’s something we’d be comfortable with.” 

“Including someone else… Opens doors,” you add, fingers fidgeting where they say in your lap, uneasiness oozing off of you. 

“Doors that we haven’t even knocked on, let alone opened,” Mingi nods, and the comfort of his thigh pressed to your knee feels necessary. 

Yunho tilts his head, “It doesn’t need to be some big thing. You guys are exploring, figuring shit out, it doesn’t hurt to have someone else to guide you. And scratch the itch.” 

You pull your lip between your teeth. That wording, how casual he’s treating the sentiment… You and Mingi were planners, since the beginning of starting this adventure, you’ve talked everything out from day one. Yet as you glanced at your boyfriend, the transparency in his eyes, how he seemed to be contemplating it, too. 

Something was nagging at you, saying maybe inviting someone else in is the right option. Yunho was the one with experience, he’s guided people before. 

He’s guided people before. 

“Do you know anyone who would?” Mingi asked as your eyes skimmed over Yunho. Broad chest, long legs, strong thighs, you’ve never really looked at him. You know he’s gorgeous, but you’re too in love with Mingi to notice when someone looks like that. This could work. Your head tilted, the pearly chest peeking out of the white linen shirt lined with a silver chain, eyes dropping to his slacks clung to every muscle in his thighs. This could definitely work. 

Yunho smacked his teeth. “Are you kidding me?” 

A smile played at your lips as a bubble of excitement erupted in your gut. Every single story he’s ever told comes rushing back to you, every minuscule detail— Is he thinking what you’re thinking?

“You two have zero structure. As much as it doesn’t need to be a big deal, you should still invite someone that you trust.” Yunho meets your eye as he finishes his sentence, and you watch as he realizes, catching a glimpse of the amusement on your features, he knows. 

“I trust whoever you trust, Yun,” Mingi says plainly. “I trust you the most.” 

You and Yunho stare at each other, lost in some kind of nonverbal contemplation, who was going to tell Mingi what both of you were thinking? He jerks his chin in the direction of your boyfriend, the action so small it was almost unnoticeable, his eyes saying Go ahead. 

So you do. 

“Min,” you say quietly, turning to look at him, and Mingi meets your gaze with an absentminded look. As if Yunho couldn’t hear, you ask your boyfriend, “Why don’t we ask him?” 

Mingi’s face contorts into bewilderment. “He can hear you— I— Are you crazy?” 

You look at him, really look at him. We trust him.  Mingi’s face doesn’t change. He’s my best friend.  You pull your lips together in a line. He’s the only Dom we know. He can help us.  Mingi glances at Yunho, then back to you. Are you sure? You smile. I’m sure. 

When you both looked back at Yunho, his face had completely morphed into something different. Stronger. Thrill is racing in your blood, excitement and nerves combined encouraging the trickle of sweat beneath your clothes. You didn’t give yourself a moment to think, not about what could go wrong, not even about what would go right. Just sitting across from him had your mind floating, staring at that corner of your consciousness where you were everything and nothing all at once, waiting. 

Mingi said something. You weren’t listening. 

Yunho sat deeper into the couch, knees spread and outstretched in front of him, a smirk on his lips. “God, I thought you would never ask.” 

Amusement still rippling in your eyes, impatience sitting shallow beneath your skin, you blink, “What do you mean?” 

“The night you were ‘sick’?” He bends two long fingers on each hand around the word, “Don’t think I didn’t know why you kicked me out. What my words were doing to you both.” 

Your body flushes, he even felt your temperature that night, yet he knew the whole time? Smirk still etched into his skin, he says, “You both looked at me like you wanted to eat me alive. Like you needed me to put you in your place.” 

The breath that leaves your lungs is staggered and Mingi catches it, he could probably feel the arousal radiating off of you, smell the wetness pooling between your legs. You wanted this more than you realized, you think, and you hoped he did, too. 

“Is that what you’d do?” The words stumble out of your mouth before you can think about them, “Put us in our place?” 

Yunho meets your eye again and his gaze laid upon your body is all consuming, like being under a microscope, as if he can see the brat that laid dormant between your ribs. Voice swimming with simplicity and clean control, he says, “If you give me a reason to.” 

He shifts his focus to your boyfriend and you feel colder without it, “Do you want this, Mingi?” With eyes on him and him alone, still exuding confidence and strength, he asks, “Or is it just your pretty little girlfriend that wants me?” 

You and Mingi both gasp. Holy shit. Mingi stared, lips parted, you were sure his mind was going a mile a minute about all the things that could go wrong, how he hadn’t done any research on this. 

Hold on, Yunho thinks you’re pretty? 

“I’m nervous,” Mingi responds, his voice small, brushing his pinky finger against your thigh, but keeping his eyes trained on Yunho. Ignoring the pretty little girlfriend part doesn’t surprise you at all. With a little more confidence, he says, “We should talk about this.” 

“We will talk about it,” Yunho nods, “I wouldn’t do this without talking about it first. I need to know your limits, boundaries, what you’re comfortable with. I need to know if you want it most of all though, Min.” 

Mingi turns to you, a fire in his eyes, one that you couldn’t place specifically. Nerves or arousal, stress or excitement, they could burn either way. With an even smaller voice, low and raspy, he asks, “Are you sure about this?”

“I trust him,” you say just above a whisper, “If you don’t want it, we don’t do it. Period.” 

“Baby,” he squeezes his eyes shut, dropping his head down, voice smaller than you’ve ever heard it, “I want it so fucking bad.” 

You smile, peeking to look at Yunho, giving him a quick nod. You turn back to Mingi, excitement laced in your words, “Then let’s do it.” 

“I need to hear you say it, Mingi,” Yunho cuts in, voice slicing through the room, an order. Mingi’s cheeks are bright pink as he stares at his best friend across the room, fingers fidgeting with the strings of his sweatpants, nervous. “Don’t be shy with me, I know everything about you, Min. I’ve seen your worst, and I’m still saying yes to fucking you.” 

The huff of air that leaves Mingi slices through the room like a knife. It relayed every thought he was keeping trapped inside, every feeling he wasn’t sure if he should feel, as if he released the last bit of apprehension so the truth could lie bare. He looked at Yunho as if he handed his pride over to his best friend to hold between his long fingers, as if one harsh squeeze would leave Mingi ashamed for the rest of his life, as if he’d lose Yunho if this went all wrong. 

Mingi swallowed, “I want this.” 

Yunho smiled, “Great.” And as if he could read Mingi’s thoughts, his expression just as well as you could, he added, “You won’t regret it, I promise.” 

Mingi nodded, leaving silence to lay over the room like a blanket. You steal a glance at your boyfriend, the both of you seeming to be thinking Well? What now?

Yunho answers your thoughts once more, “Tell me what you’ve done, what works, what doesn’t. Any boundaries, hard limits, things that are an immediate No.” 

You purse your lips, trying to rack your mind, because in all seriousness you really haven’t tried all that much besides choking, some light power play and orgasm denial. 

When you nor Mingi answer right away, the smile on Yunho’s face only grows, sly and knowing. “You guys are like two virgins sitting across from me. Say something.” 

As if the one sentence took the edge off completely, you smile, and the lock on your vocal chords open. “We’ve just played around with choking, denying orgasms and stuff, some degradation. Nothing crazy.” 

Yunho nods, “Okay, impact play? Spanking, slapping?” 

“I did that once,” Mingi raises a finger, a nod of his head. 

“I don’t really know what I’d be into or not into,” you shrug, “Do you have, like, a list?”

“What, like a survey? Check off the box next to each kink if you’re into it?” 

That rips a laugh from your lungs, “Fuck you, I don’t know. I don’t even know what there is to say no to.”

Yunho’s smile is somewhere between amused and plotting, eyes thinned and menacing. “Okay, then tell me what is an immediate Yes. What you do want.” 

You purse your lips again, but Mingi answers first, the confidence in his voice taking you completely by surprise. “I like being choked, and I like when she’s mean to me, but nothing too mean, more like when she calls me names. I don’t know about being spanked or slapped.” 

You nod, “Choking and names, yes. Spanked and slapped also yes.” 

“Okay, we’re getting somewhere,” Yunho nods, “When you say names, you mean slut, whore, etcetera…” 

You and Mingi nod, saying yes simultaneously. 

“And we’re both okay with orgasm denial, how about overstimulation?” 

“Yes,” you say in unison with your boyfriend once more. 

“Then let’s start there,” Yunho leans forward again, elbows on his knees, legs spread before him. “I won’t be too harsh with you. If you guys are still interested in exploring, then we’ll save it for next time.” 

He’s already thinking about next time?! 

“Have you figured out a safe word already?”

You and Mingi nod, but Mingi says, “It’s kiwi. We googled safe words and it said fruits are good words to use.” 

Yunho tries to ignore his amusement but his smile leaks through the mask, “Kiwi, okay. I can kiss you both, touch you both, there’s no limits when it comes to that, either?” 

You and Mingi both shake your head. You add, “We’re yours to do whatever you want.” 

“Good,” Yunho says, then turns to you, back to the demeanor exuding strength and power, “For starters, never say fuck you to me again, unless you want to watch me ruin your boyfriend while you sit in the corner, watching.” 

Your breath hitches in your throat, your body stilling, heat erupting beneath your skin. The thought of him touching Mingi without you, doing anything without you present, active… a shiver racks down your spine, eyes wide and alert. You nod, then squeak, “Understood.”

“So sweet,” Yunho smiles, “I’m gonna have fun with you. Come here, pretty.” 

You glance at Mingi, who looks like a deer caught in fucking headlights, eyes wide and slightly panicked, lips pulled into a line. His face seemed to say, He wants to do this now?!

You hold his stare, Should we?

His eyes fly to Yunho, then land back on you, his jaw tightening as he thinks. You can see the thoughts form, the churning of contemplation in his mind, but you watch as they soften, chocolate eyes melting under the heat of his best friend. His lips perked up at the corners, but his eyes told you he wasn’t completely sure, “Don’t keep him waiting, baby.” 

You swallow but still stand on shaky legs, sauntering across the room, around the coffee table, approaching Yunho who shifts as you come closer, body sinking into the couch and spreading his knees. His face is too calm and collected, too casual, as if he’d truly been waiting for this, as if he’d seen this picture in a dream. You stand before him, socked toes wiggling against the hardwood as he looks you up and down, eyes catching on your big tee, staring where it swallows your shorts beneath. You were not dressed for the occasion, but he didn’t seem to care. 

“Come on,” long fingers hit the top of his thighs, patting muscles and clothed skin, his slacks bunched where his thighs met his pelvis. “Sit.” 

Your heart thumps beneath your chest as you sink a knee on either side of him, your head immediately turning to look back at your boyfriend. Yunho catches your chin with his hand before you catch a glimpse, his voice stern, “Eyes on me.”

You didn’t think you’d be apprehensive– every bone in your body was screaming yes, but the thighs beneath you were so different from Mingi’s, more narrow, just as strong but more slender, a lankier build than your muscle mass of a boyfriend. The difference had your body confused, your muscle memory warped, but your muscles relaxed in his hold, submitting to his grip on you, long fingers hooked on either side of your jaw. You stared into the well of bronze below his brows, lighter than Mingi’s, but hardened with steady control. 

“Do you still want this?” His voice was low, almost a whisper on your skin, “Be honest. We can just watch a movie, try again another time, or never talk about it again.”

“I do,” It took a single hammered heartbeat to answer, “I want this.”

He smiles again, sweeter this time, “Then kiss me.”

He guided you toward him with his fingers still wrapped around your jaw, his lips softly melting with yours, and the feeling was… Strange. Smaller than Mingi’s but just as soft, you adjusted, allowing him to take the lead, following his lips as his hand traveled to your cheek, taking up every inch of space from your jawline to your ear. It was dizzying, Yunho kissed like he was already undressing you, inside you, passion and lust and conjoining, you could feel every intention behind it. It didn’t take long for your hips to rut against his. 

As good as it was, it was still weird. Being with one person for so long but enjoying another, guilt nibbled at your soul, at every ounce of blood in your body that circulated only for Mingi. His hands dropped to your hips, palms covering bone, fingertips digging into plush skin, moving you against him. Your lips still followed his, body pliant for him, your arms flying to his shoulders to keep you steady. 

Yunho pulled away after a moment, back relaxing into the cushions, hands laying softly on your hips, he averted his eyes to your boyfriend who sat across the room. 

“Min,” you turned your head as Yunho called his name, eyes widening as you took in the view of your boyfriend. Body stretched out before him, jaw locked, eyes glazed over, still somewhere between horny and hesitant. “Come here,” Yunho’s voice was softer now, control still tangled within his words but he’d mixed in something calmer, soothing. 

Mingi loosed a heavy breath as he stood, taking the seat beside Yunho, his limbs locked and rigid. You met his eyes, trying to understand what laid below the surface, and for the first time in years you couldn’t read his mind. Yunho’s head still hung lazily over the couch, his eyes raking over his best friend, his thoughts you couldn’t place either. 

Yunho’s hand reached out to touch Mingi’s face, his thumb caressing his smooth, pink cheek, a small smile sitting on Yunho’s face as he touched him. Yunho locked a laugh inside his chest as Mingi shuddered, his voice quieter now, “Wanna kiss me?” 

Mingi looked like he saw a ghost. Rapidly blinking, his lips opening and closing, yet leaning into Yunho’s palm resting on his cheek. Mingi nodded once, and that was all Yunho needed to lean in, to attach his lips to Mingi’s. 

Your lips parted as theirs met, a rush of adrenaline seeping into your bones as they kissed, softly at first, questioning and experimental. Your eyes widened as their kiss deepened, Mingi’s body turning to face Yunho, a rough palm coming up to cup Yunho’s cheek, the two of them holding each other. 

It was… Passionate. You wondered if Mingi was feeling the same things you did, the guilt, unease, the feeling of it all being foreign. It didn’t look like it, but you wondered how you looked kissing Yunho, if it appeared anything like this. The heavier it grew, the higher your temperature raised, a blazing heat consuming you as every nerve ending sparked. Watching Mingi kiss someone else— Yunho of all people— had you even more confused than you were before, horny but jealous, enjoying the show but wishing they were touching you, too. 

Yunho’s hand slid down to Mingi’s jaw, grabbing it the same way he grabbed yours, you watched as his fingertips turned white with pressure, his grip tightening to ignite jealousy in your fucking soul. You rolled your hips at the sight before you, unsure if it was to get their attention or if it was because of the bucket of arousal that had been dumped on your head.

A hand left Mingi’s jaw to slide up your thigh, to rest on your hip, urging you to continue. You leaned forward at the attention, your hand reaching under Yunho’s unbuttoned shirt by the collar, fingers caressing his collarbone to his shoulder. Your lips followed, tongue licking up his neck, tasting sweat and Yunho as you kissed his jaw, the two still making out just above your head. 

Yunho’s hand slid up to your waist beneath your tee, still keeping the other hand on your boyfriend’s jaw, somehow appeasing both of you simultaneously. You think about what he said– God, I thought you’d never ask– It finally clicks that he’s been waiting for this. He wants it just as much as you two do. The thought makes you smile into his skin, your other hand playing with the buttons of his linen shirt, wanting to feel the skin beneath it, wanting the wall between you gone. 

Yunho finally breaks away from Mingi, both hands coming to your hips to still you, and you pull away from his neck. Both you and Mingi stare at him confused, waiting for instructions or compliments or degradation, you weren’t sure.

You would have never expected what actually came out of his mouth. 

“That’s enough for tonight,” he leans back into the couch, eyeing the two of you carefully. You glance at Mingi who wore swollen lips and furrowed brows, you were sure you looked the same. 

“That’s it?” Your eyebrows knit together, “Just some kissing?” 

You were baffled. Yunho smiles, “Just some kissing. Now you’ll know if you really want it, with me.”

“I know,” Mingi counters immediately, “I know. I want it, now. With you.”

You nod your agreement, “I know, too. I want it, Yunho.”

Yunho’s smile just grows, sly and wicked as per usual, “Think on it for a few days.”

You can feel him hard beneath you– You stare at him with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowed, jaw slack. The arousal sliding through your veins was begging to be released, the arousal for him, for what comes next. You sputter, blinking rapidly, “I– We don’t need to think. Are you serious?” 

He laughs. Not condescendingly, one genuinely full of amusement, “I’m serious, baby.” His hands grab at your hips, lifting you to place you on Mingi’s lap instead, “Next time.”

You look at Mingi who shares the same expression, confusion and surprise, blue-balled. You look at Yunho who’s getting up from the couch, “You don’t want to?”

He stands before you then glances down at his clearly hard cock pressing against the material of his pants, “I clearly want it, but I know you two. You don’t do anything on a whim, everything is planned out, even sex. Think about it, talk about it, and call me.”

It was as you had jumped into the ocean, freezing water washing over you, waking you up while simultaneously putting you down. You blink at him, he was right, he knows the two of you far too well, but for once you didn’t need to think it through. You knew down to the essence of your being that you wanted this, wanted him, wanted to see what he’d do with you. Wanted to feel it.

“Don’t look at me like that,” He tilted his head, pouting, “I promise I’ll come back and fuck you stupid if you want me to.” 

Oh, you burned at his words, you wondered what other filthy things could leave his pretty lips. Mingi spoke up before you got the chance to whine, “You’ll come when we call?” 

Yunho nods, “I promise. We have, like, twelve more movies to watch, anyways.”

You groan, you forgot about your Marvel Marathon. “God, this is gonna be endless.”

“You have no idea,” He winks, fucking winks, and you sink into Mingi, fighting another groan. 

He turns, grabbing his keys from the coffee table, and starts for your front door. He waves a hand as he approaches the door, calling behind him, “I’ll be waiting for your call!”

You and Mingi look at each other as he slips through the door, a thousand words going through your minds, but you speak first. “We are calling him tomorrow.”

Mingi laughs, head tipping backwards, his whole body falling into the couch. “He’s such an asshole, but he’s right. A correct asshole.”

“A correct asshole,” you huff, laying on top of your boyfriend, sinking into his warmth. “I’m horny.”

“Good thing I got a lil’ jealous seeing you kiss him,” Mingi says, his hands sliding up your waist, under your tee– His tee. “Come here.”

“You? Jealous? I’ve been waiting for this day.”

masterlist

[kirilunimimi]

❝CHOI SAN❞

➾In Which: All of my hard thoughts about San.

❥Choi San x fem reader

➯a/n: written as fem reader but applies to gn reader as well !(this one maybe not so much, very breeding heavy, sorryyy) soft dom sannie time im such a sucker for him ugh ➯other members versions here <3

(>ᴗ•)genre: smut, headcanon / rant style

ಠ_ಠwarning/content: not grammatically correct i'm just yappin, extreme breeding kink, eye contact and hand holding and forehead touches (im such a whor-), like wow breeding kink seriously: talk of having children / keeping cum inside /calling each other daddy and mommy, sappy sannie, praise, body worship, cunnilingus + fingering: pussy drunk san, light overstimulation, gentle manhandling if that makes sense, very slightly rough sex, unspecified contraception

♡masterlist + navigation !♡

18+.MINOR FREE BLOG.

❝CHOI SAN❞ is a vanilla dom. he doesn't mean to take control, it just happens because that's who he is — but he isn't mean, rough, or teasing while he does it. he's the softest, sweetest dom <3

➾his favorite pet name for you is angel — literally i feel this so deeply that his mate in Shells is named angel and named cheonsa (angel) in Allure. you're his: pretty angel, sweet angel, beautiful angel, angel of my life, adorable angel, im gonna stop now because you get the point-

➾san loves kissing you more than anything in the world — his lips on your skin is his favorite thing ever. every inch of skin that gets exposed while he undresses you gets some attention, and then when he gets between your legs; he's placing soft smooches to your aching clit until you have to beg him for more. more is him making love to your sopping cunt with his mouth like it's the only way he could ever show you he loves you. his head moving back and forth slowly as he sucks and licks and kisses and slurps, paying almost no mind when you cum; only moaning into you as he eats it up with his eyes closed blissfully while you shiver with overstimulation.

➾he puts you in so many different positions to see which one gets him deepest inside of you on that particular day. drags you down to the middle of the bed with a smile as he puts a pillow under your back. moans about how good you feel while he sinks into you, rubs your stomach with his thumbs while he holds your waist. bends over you and rests his forehead on yours while you adjust to his size —

➾choi san has a large cock. i went ahead and said it, it needed to be done !! it's thick — meaty, i would go as far to say. decorated with veins that pulse against your walls while he rests the heavy weight in your snug embrace. he has to work you open on four fingers just so he doesn't hurt you — three if he's feeling a bit impatient and he'll shush you softly with kisses as the slight sting makes you pout, taking his time and going gentle because he doesn't want to hurt you; he just wanted to be inside of you already :(

➾slow, passionate strokes while he gets going; just a few thrusts and he's panting against your lips, saying just how much he loves how your pussy clings to him like it never wants him to leave. he works his way up to a slightly faster pace, and he stays steady in that rhythm — rolling his hips into you so deeply that you see stars and go a bit cross eyed as you look up into his intense gaze. when you start whining, saying you're close — he pulls your legs up over his shoulders and gets deeper, his hips speeding up without his permission as it begs him to breed his pretty angel.

➾even though you're using contraceptives (other than condoms because he neeeeds to cum inside of you or he goes insane) until the time is actually right, it doesn't stop him from babbling about how good of a mommy you're gonna be and how gorgeous you're gonna look all swollen with his baby inside you and how he loves you so much, he just can't wait to be the father of your children, so will you please please make him a daddy, angel ♡

➾san holds your hands as he cums inside of you, no matter what position you're in at the moment. laces your fingers together and stills as far inside of you as possible with a deep, rumbling, downright needy moan that almost always has you ready to go another round. he stays there for a moment as he catches his breath, then his fingers find your clit and he toys with it as he nuzzles his face into your heated skin; telling you to be good for him and cum around his sensitive cock to make sure you've really milked it dry.

➾aftercare involves your hips in the air for at least ten minutes — again, even if you aren't actively trying to actually get pregnant, he does it anyway so his cum soaks into you and gets 'ready for the real deal'. he kisses all over your thighs and when he finally brings your hips down; all over your stomach as he crawls his way up slowly. leaves soft kisses in his wake all the way up until he lands on your lips and kisses you deep and passionately. hugs you to his big warm chest and tucks your head under his chin <3

[kirilunimimi]

Mirror ceiling- P.SH

I had a dream last night...

Word count: 2.5k

Warnings: smut, overstimulation

Alexa, play Pretty Please by Dutch Melrose

Somewhere in Hongdae, Seoul city

1:12 am

Seonghwa hadn’t planned on staying out this long.

He sat comfortably in the plush booth, sipping something icy and strong, the ice clinking softly against the rim of his glass. San was across from him, his head bouncing with restless energy, and Hongjoong leaned back like he owned the lounge, his fingers drumming against the side of his glass in time with the music’s heavy pulse.

They’d escaped the industry event like it was a prison break, laughing as they ducked into a cab and told the driver, “Anywhere with music but no VIPs”. That’s how they ended up there— no velvet rope, no flashing cameras. Just fog machines, pink lights, and strangers.

Seonghwa liked it, he could finally breathe. He was still catching his breath when he saw you.

It was just a flicker at first— your silhouette between flashes of soft red and fuchsia. You wore confidence like a second skin, radiant with the kind of joy that wasn’t forced for photos. You moved like you weren’t trying to impress anyone, like the music belonged to you, like your body learned rhythm before language.

His drink paused midway to his mouth.

“Earth to Hwa”, San nudged, following his gaze, “Ahhh! Got it”

“What?”, Seonghwa blinked, adjusting his rings like they were excuses not to stare.

Hongjoong smirked, “The one in black boots? Yeah. You’ve been looking for a reason to move all night”

“I don’t know…”, he started, already flustered.

“Bro”, San leaned in, eyes wide, “She’s literally dancing like she’s the main character in a movie and you’re her romantic interest. Go!”

Seonghwa hesitated.

You glanced over your shoulder, caughting. his eyes. And then— you smiled.

Something cracked open in his chest.

He stood before he could think twice, fingers twitching, blood boiling. He made his way toward you like that smile wasn’t a coincidence but an invitation.

You didn’t stop dancing when he approached. You just turned to face him and kept moving, eyes locked with his, smile growing, challenging.

He moved with you. It started small, a sway, a slow tilt of his hips that matched your rhythm. The space between you disappeared like smoke. Your fingers brushed his chest, barely there, and he exhaled like you’d taken the air right out of his lungs. He rested a hand on your waist, feather lightly, letting you guide.

You didn’t speak. You didn’t need to. Your bodies were already saying everything— each step, each turn, was a sentence written in music and heat. You pressed closer, arms curling around his shoulders, and he leaned in like he could fall into you.

Your thigh grazed his. His hand tightened slightly on your waist. You moved like liquid, like silk, like you knew he was unraveling. And he was— completely. Flushed, breathless, drunk on you.

When the music slowed, your lips brushed his ear and you whispered, “Come outside with me”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

1:43 Am

The night air was cool against his skin. He followed you through the back door without a word, adrenaline still humming under his skin like aftershock. The alley was quiet, the wall behind you cold and damp with city fog. The world had narrowed down to this— just him, and you, and the echo of the beat fading behind closed doors.

He stood close without touching you.

You were pressed to the cement wall, arms crossed over your chest, hair messy from dancing, cheeks glowing. You looked up at him like you knew all his secrets already.

“You always dance like that with strangers?”, he asked, voice soft.

You tilted your head, “You didn’t feel like a stranger”

A breath caught in his throat. He stepped closer.

“Where are you from?”, he asked, “You don’t seem like a local”

“Yeah” you said, “I’m visiting. Trying to live a little”

“You do” he breathed, “Live. I can feel it”

The tension between you was too thick to ignore.

“Do you do this a lot?” you asked

“Do what?”

“Run from the noise?”

“Sometimes”, he said, “But I don’t usually end up finding someone like you in the quiet”

You smiled slowly, biting the inside of your cheek, “Lucky night?”

He leaned in. The wall pressed into your spine, his hand rested against the concrete beside your head, just barely caging you in.

“No”, he murmured, voice softer than usual, “Right place. Right time”

You reached for him, fingers curled on shirt.

His hands found your hips, pulling you closer as he leaned in.

The kiss started soft, tentative. Your lips brushed his once, then again, lingering a little longer. He breathed through his nose, the scent of you dizzying. The world slowed down immediately.

And then you deepened it.

Your hand slid to the back of his neck, fingers threading in his hair, and he groaned into your mouth like he’d been holding it back all night. His lips opened under yours, eager, and your mouths met over and over again— tender, then desperate, then wild with need.

You kissed like you were dancing again. Bodies moving, finding rhythm, pressing closer.

His hand slid up your back, then down again, over the curve of your waist, anchoring you to him. Your back hit the wall with a soft thud, but he didn’t stop kissing you. You tilted your chin, let him taste more of you, let his tongue drag against yours in lazy, hot movements. He pulled back just once to breathe, nose brushing yours.

Your breaths mixed, your mouths almost touched again. Then, in the quietest voice, you asked

“Wanna get out of here?”

He nodded, pupils blowing wild

“Yeah”, he whispered, “Just… say where”

𔓶𑇓𝆬 ͙࿐𓈒ْ ㅤㅤ

2:18 am

You didn’t say much in the cab.

Seonghwa’s hand rested lightly on your thigh the whole ride, his fingers drawing random shapes through the fabric of your skirt like he needed to do it to stay grounded. His other hand fidgeted with the rings on his fingers. Every once in a while, your eyes met in the reflection of the car window. He looked wrecked already— lips swollen, pupils blown wide, chest rising slow and deep.

The motel you picked was tucked away down a side street, anonymous and glowing pink under its signage. Discreet entrance, hourly rates. You both knew exactly what this was.

But somehow, it didn’t feel cheap.

The room was bathed in violet and blue light. There were pink LED strips along the walls. It was clean, quiet, just a low hum of music from the touchscreen panel.

But the centerpiece— was the mirror.

Set into the ceiling directly above the bed.

You paused in the middle of the room and looked up.

“Seriously?”, you said, giggling

Seonghwa stood behind you, and his reflection met yours in the glass above. His eyes flicked between the mirror and you like he was imagining things you hadn’t even thought about yet.

“It’s kind of…” he cleared his throat, stepped closer, his chest brushing your back, “…hot?”

You turned in his arms.

“Yeah. It's”, you whispered

You kissed him again but slower this time. Not frantic like the alley, not rushed.

Like you had all night to ruin each other. And you had

His hands slid over your hips, then under your shirt, exploring the line of your spine, the heat of your skin. You pressed into him, mouths parting just slightly with each kiss, letting him feel the rhythm of your breathing.

He groaned low when you tugged off his jacket, then his shirt, leaving him bare and glowing under the violet light. His chest rose and fell unevenly, and when you reached up to drag your nails across it— he shivered.

You pushed him gently back toward the bed, and he went, eyes never leaving yours. He sat on the edge, legs spread, arms open. You stood between them and slowly pulled your top over your head.

His breath caught.

“Lie back”, you said.

He obeyed without hesitation.

And there he was— Seonghwa, stretched out against the white sheets, flushed under the neon haze, his body reflecting perfectly above him. He glanced at the ceiling once and then back at you, like he couldn’t believe this was real.

You climbed over him, straddling his hips, hands trailing down his chest. The mirror caught everything— the curve of your back as you leaned down to kiss along his neck, the way his hands gripped your thighs, the way he watched with curious eyes.

You leaned close to his ear, “Watch me”

And he did.

You kissed him while he stared up at the two of you moving together in the mirror— tongues slow and hot, hips beginning to roll in slow waves as your bodies started to meet.

When you sank onto him for the first time, his head fell back with a gasp. But his eyes stayed on the ceiling.

Your hands found his, laced your fingers together, and guided his palms to your waist.

You rode him slowly at first, letting every motion take to the next one. The mirror let you see everything— how your hips moved, how his abs flexed when he groaned, how your faces twisted in unfiltered pleasure.

He looked up like it was art, like you were the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen.

The rhythm picked up gradually.

You leaned forward, bracing your hands against his chest, angling just right

“Fuck… yes” he moaned, hips lifting into yours.

You could feel how close he was by how his fingers dug into your skin, how his brows knit together, how his thighs began to tremble under you. His mouth found your shoulder, your collarbone, your lips— messy and desperate.

But suddenly, his hands moved. Firm, with purpose.

He sat up beneath you, chest against yours, and murmured into your skin, “Turn around”

You blinked, still breathless.

“I want to see you”, he rasped, “all of you”

You whimpered, nodding, and shifted slowly off him, knees shaky. He guided you with gentle touches, helping you to get on your hands and knees at the center of the bed.

And then you felt him again, his hands on your hips, his chest brushing your back as he leaned over you.

“Are you okay?” he asked, lips against your ear.

You nodded.

He pushed back inside you slowly, filling you in one long, aching glide.

Your mouth fell open, hands gripping the sheets, the mirror catching the exact moment your head dropped forward and your jaw dropped with pleasure.

He groaned behind you, “Fuck… look at you…”

His hips began to move again, deeper. With each thrust, your bodies met with a loud slap, and you could feel the warmth of his breath on your neck.

Then his hand slid up your back, fingers trailing over your shoulder blades, up your nape. He tangled them in your hair and gently pulled, not harsh, just enough to lift your face.

“Eyes on the mirror” he whispered.

Your gaze met your own— your flushed, trembling body and Seonghwa behind you, eyes burning, lips parted as he watched the way you took him. Your cheeks were red, lips parted, eyes wild with it all. It was dizzying how vulnerable, how powerful you felt, being seen like this.

His grip in your hair tightened just a little as he picked up the pace. You moaned out his name, helpless against the rhythm he set.

The way he moved felt like he was giving you everything while holding just enough back to make you beg for more. The mirror gave it all back to you— the arch of your spine, the ripple of your bodies colliding again and again, the way his jaw clenched as he watched you lose yourself.

“You feel so fucking perfect…” he rasped, voice right against your ear, “So tight… so good…”

He let go of your hair only to slide his hand down again— fingers between your thighs, stroking in time with his thrusts. You choked on a moan, body arching into his touch.

You were right on the edge, barely holding on when he moved again.

“Come here”, he murmured suddenly. He pulled out, gently but with urgency, tugging you back against his chest as he lay back against the pillows. This time, he guided you into his lap, back to chest, wrapping his arms around your waist.

Your body opened for him automatically— sensitive, overstimulated and starved.

He guided you back on his cock with an aching thrust, and you both gasped as you sank fully into him again. The angle was different, overwhelming.

His arms locked around your waist, keeping you still, close, shaking.

“Just like this”, he whispered into your neck, “Let me feel you”

You rolled your hips, and he cursed beneath his breath, pressing kisses to your jaw, one hand trailing back between your thighs.

It was too much.

His cock buried deep, his fingers stroking your clit in a maddening pace, the reflection above showing the exact way your bodies moved together.

You cried out as the orgasm hit— more intense than anything you felt before, rolling through you in waves until your legs trembled and your walls pulsed tight around him.

You collapsed back against him, completely done. That’s when he lost it— his body jerked under yours, muscles tensing, and with a strangled groan, he pulled out just in time.

His release spilled hot across your inner thigh in messy, pulsing streaks, his breath catching as he trembled behind you, both hands holding your hips like he’d fall apart otherwise.

You stayed like that for a moment, breathless, wrecked. Then, slowly, explorative, his hand slid down between your thighs.

You twitched.

“Seonghwa”, you whispered, voice weak, almost pleading.

But he only hummed, breath still uneven.

His thumb pressed lightly into the slick mess between your folds. Right where you were still sensitive, still throbbing. Just once. A soft, teasing circle.

You jolted, gasping

“Sensitive?” he murmured, smug, voice charged with exhaustion and mischief. His thumb drew another slow swirl, not enough to hurt but enough to make you whimper.

He watched in the mirror as your body arched, your face contorted with overstimulation, your hips bucking forward slightly, trying to flee the touch while also craving more.

“I just wanted to see…”, he whispered, eyes flicking between your reflection and the way your body moved beneath his hand, “...how much more you could take”

And then, he let go.

You were both panting. Silent. Ruined.

Still, you managed to laugh

“Oh my god” you said, voice hoarse, “You were holding back this whole time?”

He let out a breathless laugh

“You have no idea the self control that took”, he said, voice half gone

You laughed harder, falling sideways into the pillows as he grabbed tissues from the nightstand to clean you gently.

“I’m impressed”, you murmured.

He kissed your cheek.

“Willpower. Barely survived”, he said, playfully

You turned your face to his neck, grinning as he curled you against him.

“Right place. Right time”, he whispered again

If you enjoyed it please consider liking and reblogging. Feedbacks, loves notes and requests are very much appreciated 😊

taglist: @hyyunjinnn , @jehhskz , @mbioooo0000 , @nightmarenyxx , @rozsdascsaptelep, @thatonegirlonhere , @notmedina127, @sweetlifeofjoy , @jeonginsleftcheek , @yelhsaa, @my-neurodivergent-world , @hyunles , @lexlikesbts , @imagine-all-the-imagines , @mysterysold , @teenagepeterpan , @hangonhyunjin, @yxna-bliss

[kirilunimimi]

BAD BOY FACADE MASTERLIST — 산

✎ summary sometimes the good boys are actually bad, and the bad boys are actually good — but sometimes they're exactly as they seem. choi san was the stereotypical definition of a bad boy: arrogant, careless, manipulative, seductive fuckboy who could have any girl wrapped around his finger with a wink of his eye. i mean... they do say "all good boys go to heaven, but bad boys bring heaven to you". so when the infamous bad boy of the town got transferred to your school, he was surrounded by girls desperate for his attention within minutes, all wanting the chance to "fix him" — every single one but you. your best friend, yeosang, warned you to never get mixed up with san, knowing it would end with him picking up pieces of your broken heart. but how could you stay away once he looked at you with so much emotion behind his cold eyes?

pairing     badboy!san x reader  genre     high school au, strangers to lovers slow burn word count     32.8k status     incomplete

general warnings MDNI mentions of gang affiliations, drugs, drinking and smoking, criminal behaviour, family issues, toxic relationships, smut (♨ on chapters that include smut) — more extent warnings will be on each post

🎧 a playlist for the series

chapter 1 chapter 2 chapter 3 chapter 4 chapter 5 chapter 6 chapter 7 chapter 8 chapter 9 chapter 10 chapter 11 chapter 12 chapter 13 chapter 14 chapter 15 chapter 16 chapter 17.1 chapter 17.2 chapter 18 chapter 19 chapter 20 chapter 21 chapter 22 chapter 23 chapter 24 chapter 25

extra contents   ◦  badboy!san headcanons

✉ taglist @morethingsfandom @solaris-amethyst @felixs-voice-makes-me-wanna @baby-stay92 @autieofthevalley @liveloveseonghwa @dejatiny @mortal-advocate @dreamsoffanfics @my-atiny-kookie-rkive @dalsuwaha @nevieatiny @woateez @choizlover @woosmaid @yeosannie4 @auroras-colors @mintchocosan @jjongbearsies @frzzenfrxg @sanniebabes @cyberpvnk-enthusiast @eyesonlyformingi @sannies-tiddies @honeyjongie @rainteez02 @robertsbbygirl @mingisgf999 @atzz8 @moonlight-hwa @chrryjoong @sanhwalvr @cloudysannie @atxxzist @choisansplushie @starz-choisanii @slowitdownmakeitb0uncy @jerseygirlzzzxx @mzngi @sparda1234 @babigriin @marvolos @snapcracklen @posseup @justineasian @amazaynaastha @vixensss @deltamoon666 @randajjjad @m4n4-s4m4 @thehenchsket @betda @minkiluva @morguebounddoll @melsunshine

written by planet-hwa™

[kirilunimimi]

P☆RNST☆R

|| NERD! YUNHO x ALTCAMGIRL! READER||

☆ COLLEGE ATEEZ SMAU!

☆ Yunho’s friends notice him overworking himself like never before. Hongjoong, being the good friend he is, recommends his favorite camgirl. In hopes he can start to destress himself. But being the workaholic he is, he decides to start tutoring for extra cash. Y/n is failing her chemistry classes again. Again. On probation with the school, she agrees to get a tutor. Well, who would’ve thought that tutor would end up being Yunho, and that during one of their study sessions he’ll recognize that back tattoo of his new favorite pastime? Guess we have to find out, don’t we?

☆ !PLEASE DO NOT INTERACT IF U ARE UNDER 18 THIS SMAU WILL CONTAIN SEXUAL THEMES AND EXPLICIT SCENES!

☆ Will be adding to the trigger warnings as the story progresses! !Y/n will be having random face claims! Tw: Explicit themes, cursing, sexual acts preformed in exchange for money, mentions of depression, anxiety, suicide, self harm,

You ready? let’s meet the cast shall we?

⚝ Camgirl & her entourage

☆ Workaholics club

☆ extras- art

———————————————

☆ Chapters !

☆1. A what now?

☆2. late night festivities

☆3. why he kinda-

☆4. study date

☆5. for fucks sakes

☆6. time to get white girl wasted

☆7. I can be your dd

☆8. End exams= get shitfaced

☆9. finally another live

[kirilunimimi]

Like We Were || Choi San

pairing: San x fem!reader || Forgotten love

w.c.: 15.6k

Warnings: smut, dirty talk, car sex, protected sex (Minors DNI! Refrain from reading if you're not +18, and ignore if you don't like this type of content), angst

Aprox. time of reading: 40 / 50 minutes

Summary: San's world turned upside down after the accident, but he felt it completely broke the moment he knew about your state. You forgot everything. Him, your relationship, everything you had built together... For a while, he thought letting go would be the best choice. The thought of him turning into a stranger after you two were each other's lives was something hard to handle. But living without you was a worst kind of pain. That was why, he'd help you remember, without you knowing the cute guy that you met at the bar was the person you hugged to sleep every night.

MASTERLIST

The music was loud -some mix of funky beats and synth pop- but San could still hear the soft clink of the ice in your glass from across the bar. You were seated at the far end, alone, just like that first time. Just like before. 

He leaned against the brick wall, half in shadow, fingers drumming a slow rhythm against his thigh. The denim of his jacket was worn in all the places your hands used to touch. You always tugged on his sleeves when you laughed, like he was something to hold onto. 

You weren't laughing now. 

You looked... calm. Pretty. Like nothing was missing. 

Except everything was. 

You didn't notice him. Not yet. 

And just like the first time, some guy, button-down open too far -smile too wide-, saw you sitting there and made his move. 

San stiffened, exhaling slowly through his nose. 

He'd timed it. He knew this was when it happened, when you got approached and rolled your eyes so hard he could feel your annoyance from across the room. He'd used that moment to swoop in, smug and playful, pretending to be your boyfriend just to get the creep to back off. It worked like a charm. You laughed, he stayed. And you two talked until the bar closed. 

It was the beginning of everything. 

So this had to work. 

He watched closely now, waiting for the same flicker of irritation on your face, but it didn't come. Instead, you smiled politely at the guy. Laughed, even. Tucked your hair behind your ear like you were actually interested. 

San felt the sharp stab of something he didn't want to name. 

The guy leaned in, too close, and San couldn't stay back anymore. He pushed off the wall and crossed the bar with purpose in his step, heartbeat hammering, sweat pooling at the base of his neck. He rehearsed his lines a thousand times in his head. 

Same as before. Same as before. Same as before. 

He stopped at your table, resting his hand on the back of your chair like it belonged there. 

"Hey, baby," he said, trying to keep it light, teasing. "Sorry I'm late. You didn't wait long, did you?" 

You blinked up at him, surprised. The man sitting across from you frowned, shifting in his seat. 

"Excuse me?" you said, brows furrowing. 

Your voice was soft, unfamiliar even in its familiarity. 

San's smile didn't falter. He had practiced it in the mirror, wanting to do it just like that first night. "You know I hate it when you start drinking without me" he gave the other man a polite smile that didn't reach his eyes. "Mind giving us a minute, bro?" 

The man looked between you both, clearly annoyed. But you didn't say anything. You just looked at San like he was an inconvenient glitch in your night, not someone your soul used to orbit around. 

"Whatever," the guy muttered, grabbing his beer and walking away. 

Silence settled between you and San, heavier than the bass vibrating through the walls. 

He expected you to be angry, confused. Maybe even impressed like last time. But instead, you stared at him with narrowed eyes and a bemused smile. 

"That was... bold," you said, tilting your head. "Do I know you?" 

The words punched the air from his lungs like a second car crash. 

Those were the words he was so scared to hear when he first knew of your state after the accident. 

He didn't visit you a single time you were in the hospital after you woke up, he was sure he wouldn't have been able to bear the idea of you not remembering him. He couldn't bear the idea of not being part of your life any longer. 

That was why he asked your friends to erase any trace of him from your apartment, from your phone... He was about to let go, until he thought that maybe that was his chance to start it all over again, to live again the beauty of falling for you, and you falling for him. 

You in that pub wasn't a coincidence. Not at all. 

He chuckled softly, looking down for a second to hide the devastation in his eyes. "Kind of," he murmured. "We've met. Once or twice." 

You looked at him for a long beat. Not with recognition. Not with love. But... curiosity. 

"Well, if you're going to crash my night, you might as well sit down." 

He blinked. 

You gestured to the seat across from you, and he moved slowly, cautiously -as if the world might fall apart again if he moved too fast. 

He sat. 

You sipped your drink, watching him over the rim of your glass. "So... is this a thing you do often? Pretend to be someone's boyfriend to scare off competition?" 

San let out a soft laugh, rubbing the back of his neck. "Only when I'm desperate." 

There was a pause. You tilted your head. "And are you?" 

He met your gaze. For the first time in weeks, you were looking directly at him. Really looking. 

His voice was low, gentle. "I lost something important. I'm just trying to find it again." 

You didn't answer right away. You just stared at him, lips twitching like they were debating whether or not to smile.  And then -unexpectedly, softly- you did. You smiled. Not because you remembered. Not because you knew what he meant, but because something about him felt warm. Like a song you hadn't heard in years but still knew how to hum. 

"Okay, mystery man," you said, tapping your glass against his. "Tell me the story of that thing you're missing, then."

He looked at you, breath catching in his throat. And this time, he let himself hope.

You sat across from him, your finger tracing lazy circles against the condensation on your glass, looking at him attentively as he refused to talk about himself, to go deep in anything that wasn't the moment between you two. And it made you suspicious, but also curious. 

"So?" you asked, lips quirking at the corners. "Are you gonna tell me your name, or are we doing the whole mysterious stranger at the bar thing tonight?"

He smirked. 

God, it was exactly like the first time. 

That smug, amused curl of your lips, that cocky tone as you tilted your head. And he tried to mimic the way he reacted to it, mirroring your smirk. Only this time, there was something behind it. Something heavy in his eyes, buried just deep enough that you couldn't quite reach it.

"No names," he said smoothly, leaning forward with his elbows on the table. "It ruins the fantasy."

You raised a brow, playing along without thinking. "Oh? And what fantasy is that?"

"The one where you fall in love with me for the night," he replied, not missing a beat. "No expectations. No promises. Just... this."

Your heart skipped, maybe from the way he said it, or maybe from the way he looked at you, like he was seeing more than what was on the surface. It was unnerving, but oddly comforting.

You didn't know him. But something about him felt like déjà vu.

"Hmm," you said, swirling the last of your drink. "Sounds like a line you've used before."

He chuckled under his breath. "Once or twice."

You narrowed your eyes. "Do I look like the kind of girl who falls for strangers in bars?"

"You look like the kind of girl who pretends she doesn't," he said, a hint of challenge in his voice. "Right before she steals the guy's lighter and walks out with his heart."

You laughed before you could stop yourself, and it caught you off guard. It felt... real.

"So you think you've got me all figured out?"

"Not yet," he murmured, gaze softening. "But I'd like to."

The words hung between you like a dare.

You leaned back in your seat, crossing your legs, testing him. "Then why don't you tell me something about yourself? Something small."

He hesitated. Not because he didn't want to, but because every answer he had was yours. Every story he could tell was tied to memories you no longer carried. 

So instead, he reached for a lie wrapped in truth. 

"I box," he said. 

You tilted your head. "Box?" 

"Yeah. Keeps me sane." he looked down, twisting his ring, a nervous habit he didn't even know he still had. "Started when I was fifteen. Got serious around twenty. It's... one of the only things I'm good at." 

"That's not true," you said quietly, before your brain caught up with your mouth. 

He looked up sharply, for a second, excited about you possibly remembering something. You blinked, confused at yourself. "I mean, you don't look like someone who only has one skill."

A small smile crept across his face. "You think I look talented, huh?" 

"I think you look like you think you're talented."

He let out a breathy laugh and pressed a hand to his chest. "Oof. Beautiful and brutal. You really haven't changed." 

You froze for a split second. 

"What?" 

"Nothing," he said quickly, waving it off. "Just... déjà vu." 

You stared at him, something prickling at the edge of your mind. That look again. Like he knew you too well for a stranger. Like he was holding a secret in his mouth, keeping it safe. 

"Alright, mysterious boxer," you said, sitting up straighter. "If we're doing this no-names thing, then I get to make up your backstory." 

He grinned. "Oh yeah?" 

"Yeah. Let's see..." you tapped your chin, pretending to study him. "You're probably a spoiled rich kid, dropped out of business school, got into the underground fighting for the thrill." 

"Interesting." 

"You can drive a car" you continued, "but you ended up with a motorbike because it makes you feel free. You say you hate attention, but you love the way people look at you."

He laughed again, but this one hurt a little. Because it was true. All of it. You were remembering pieces without knowing you were. 

"And what about you?" he asked, trying to push through the lump in his throat. "What's your story?" 

You looked down at your empty glass, suddenly quiet. 

"I don't know yet," you said, half-joking. "Still figuring it out." 

He swallowed hard.

"Then let me stick around a little," he said softly. "See how it turns out." 

You looked at him, eyes searching. Something pulled inside your chest, like the faint echo of a melody you used to dance to in the dark. 

"Okay," you said. "But no names. Just for tonight."

He smiled, genuine, heartbreakingly sweet. "Deal." 

And as the bartender slid two more drinks toward your table, San let himself fall into the lie a little deeper.  Because if he couldn't make you remember, he'd make you fall in love again. 

San had chosen the same quiet little café for your "first date", the place where you'd spent hours sipping overpriced lattes, talking about everything and nothing all at once. He'd kept it simple, just like that night. The table by the window, the soft hum of the city outside, the warm, golden glow of the café lights wrapping around the two of you like a blanket.

It was perfect, or it should have been.

He'd prepared for this moment. Everything was planned. Even the awkwardness that he had to recreate. 

But as soon as the waitress dropped off the drinks and San reached for his, he fumbled. His fingers brushed against the edge of the cup, and the entire thing tipped over.

Splash. 

The coffee spilled across the table, splashing onto his lap and soaking the front of his white shirt. San pressed his lips together, omitting the huge sigh after he managed to ruin the t-shirt you bought for him. 

On your first day, he wore one of his favorite t-shirts before he ruined it by accidentally spilling the coffee over him -which, later, would end up with one of the most touching gifts you'd ever given him: the same shirt, brand new and clean. 

He went through the same, although this time, it wasn't accidental. He spilled the coffee on purpose and he was wearing the same t-shirt you bought him. 

It had been so embarrassing the first time. The coffee had scalded him, leaving him with a red mark on his skin. You'd laughed so hard that night, teasing him endlessly as he frantically tried to clean himself up. 

But now, instead of laughing, you stood up, your face immediately flooded with worry. 

"Oh my God, San, are you okay?" you reached across the table, instinctively grabbing a napkin, your hands trembling slightly as you dabbed at the wet spots on his shirt. 

He watched you, caught between confusion and guilt. This was supposed to be fun. This was supposed to be a game. 

"You're supposed to laugh," he said with a nervous chuckle, his tone strained as he shifted awkwardly in his seat. "You always laugh when I do this." 

But you didn't laugh. You were too focused on him, on making sure he wasn't hurt. 

"San, you're burning up!" you looked down at his shirt and noticed the red splotch from the coffee. The way his face twisted in discomfort made something in your chest tighten. 

"I'm fine," he lied, wiping at the coffee stain with his napkin, still trying to brush it off like it was just another part of the act. 

But when you kept leaning forward, your eyes full of concern, he felt that same vulnerability creep up on him, the one he tried so hard to bury. The one that always came to the surface when you'd showed him a kindness that had no ulterior motive.

You didn't pull back. Instead, you leaned closer, your fingers brushing against his skin as you carefully checked the burn mark, trying to gauge how serious it was. 

"Please, let me take a look at it," you said quietly, your voice shaky with worry. 

San's chest tightened, and his heart hammered in his ribcage. This wasn't how it was supposed to go. He was supposed to make you remember. He was supposed to recreate the fun, the banter, the way things were before. 

But instead, he felt like he was falling apart in front of you. 

"Hey, it's really nothing," he insisted, trying to pull away, but your grip tightened. 

"No, it's not nothing," you said, your voice softer now, almost as if you were reassuring yourself. "This could leave a scar. What if it gets worse? You're not fine, San." 

He finally allowed you to inspect the burn, the cool concern in your touch contrasting sharply with the heat that still lingered on his skin. It made his breath hitch, but you weren't teasing him. You weren't laughing at his clumsiness. You were genuinely worried about him.

It was so... different. It wasn't the playful teasing he remembered. It wasn't the way you used to mock him for every little thing. You were taking this seriously, as though he was the important thing at this moment. Not the game. Not the memories he was trying to recreate. 

You met his gaze, your eyes full of something, something close to panic.

"Are you sure you're okay?" you asked again, more insistent now. "Maybe you should go to the hospital and..."

"No," he interrupted, his voice tight. "I'm fine. Really. It's not as bad as it looks." 

But you didn't seem convinced, still gently dabbing at his shirt, your touch careful and concerned, the weight of your eyes never leaving him. It made him feel seen in a way he hadn't been before. The memory of that first date -the teasing, the laughter- felt like something out of a past life now, replaced by a deep, undeniable care he didn't know how to handle.

"I think we need to get you cleaned up," you said, standing up. "Come on. I'm taking you to the restroom." 

He followed you, unable to hide the tightness in his chest, the way his pulse quickened. This wasn't the same. It wasn't supposed to be like this. And yet, the way you gently guided him toward the restroom made him realize that maybe... maybe this was better. The way you worried about him, your eyes soft but full of something deeper, made him feel like he wasn't a stranger to you. Even if you couldn't remember who he was, the connection was still there. Unspoken, yet undeniable. 

When you reached the restroom, you immediately pulled paper towels from the dispenser, and as you handed him a few, your fingers brushed his.  The smallest touch sent a shiver through his spine. 

"You're not making this easy," he muttered, his voice laced with that same nervous humor he'd used to cover his discomfort, but there was no bite to it now. Just a soft, vulnerable edge.

You gave him a smile that didn't quite reach your eyes, but it was warm, and you were still checking him over. 

"I know," you said, your voice gentle. "But I need to make sure you're okay, San." 

And for the first time since everything had shifted, since the accident, since the loss of memories, San wondered if maybe, just maybe, you were remembering him in a way he could never fully understand. 

He was disappointed at first, but not anymore. 

It was late when you both ended up outside the apartment building. He had to pretend you were guiding him when, actually, he knew the steps there by heart. He could've easily been blinded and he still would've found his way to your door. 

The city buzzed quietly around you, muted streetlights casting gold halos across the wet pavement, the air still damp from an earlier drizzle. San walked beside you, his hands tucked into the pockets of his jacket, his shoulder brushing against yours every few steps.

He was quiet. 

You were too. 

The kind of silence that felt almost sacred. Like something was waiting to happen. 

He'd walked you home. Just like that first night. After coffee and ruined shirts, after shy smiles and missed glances, he'd done exactly what he did all those years ago: offered to walk you back, pretending it was "just in case." Pretending he wasn't already hopelessly caught in your orbit. 

But this time, the orbit felt unfamiliar to you. You didn't recognize the gravity between you. Not logically. 

Only emotionally. 

There was something there. Something unspoken.

You reached the front steps, turning to face him, and he stopped just a breath too close. He looked at you the same way he had back then, like he was trying to memorize your features, like the weight of the moment sat heavy on his chest. 

"I'm not gonna ask to come up," he said softly, almost repeating the words he'd used the first time. "That's not how I do things."

You tilted your head. "But you want to come up, don't you?"

A small, surprised smile tugged at his lips. "Yeah. But... Eventually."

"Eventually... That means you're confident on a second date" you teased him. 

"I know there will be"

You both laughed, gently, though yours was more confused than amused. Something about that vibe felt familiar, like you had lived it before. Although you couldn't tell. Not clearly. It was like catching pieces of a dream you weren't sure you'd had. But the way your body reacted to him -how your heart raced, how the tips of your fingers tingled when he stepped a little closer- it made it hard to ignore the sense of déjà vu. 

He licked his lips, suddenly nervous. 

His mind started flooding with memories from that night. He kissed you for the first time there, while you were leaning against the railing, with that half-smile that always drove him crazy. A smile that told him you already knew what was about to happen, but you were just waiting to know if he dared to do it. 

He blinked at you, caught between then and now. Because you were the same person, but your eyes were sparkling differently from that night. There was something in your vibe that told him you weren't with him. Not completely. 

"I wish I could kiss you right now" he whispered out loud. 

And then, softly: "You wish... Is there something stopping you?"

His breath caught.

God, he wanted to. He wanted to lean in and kiss you exactly the way he had that night, slow and reckless, like he had nothing to lose. But this wasn't that night. This wasn't you. Not really. You didn't remember the tension, the stolen glances, the anticipation that had built up between you back then. 

You were looking at him with new eyes. 

And still...

You hadn't pulled away. 

He raised his hand slowly, brushing your hair behind your ear. His fingers grazed your jaw, tentative, reverent, like he was afraid he might scare you off. You leaned into his touch instinctively, and that one simple motion shattered something in him. 

So he whispered, "I'm going to kiss you now," and you nodded before he even finished the sentence. 

The kiss wasn't like the first time. 

It wasn't playful. It wasn't bold. 

It was quiet. 

Tender.

A question instead of a declaration.

San kissed you like he was saying please remember me, and you kissed him back like you were saying I don't, but I feel you anyway. 

Your hands found his jacket, gripping the fabric just slightly, like you needed something to hold onto. His thumb brushed against your cheek. You melted into him, the city and the night and the world dissolving around the pressure of his mouth on yours. 

And when he finally pulled back -breathless, eyes wide and glassy- you stayed close, your forehead pressing against his, like it was the only place in the world that made sense. 

"That didn't feel new," you whispered, your voice soft and trembling. "That felt like... like I've done it a thousand times before." 

San let out a broken laugh, one that sounded suspiciously like a choked sob.

"You have," he whispered back. "You have." 

And for the first time, he let go of the script. Stopped trying to make you remember by recreating the past. 

"I mean, maybe... you dreamed about it" he corrected himself quickly, as soon as he was aware of the confused look. 

San sat at the end of the table, eyes fixed on the untouched glass of beer in front of him. The bar was the same. The booth was the same. Even the playlist hadn't changed much, still throwing out old songs that reminded him of shared nights, loud laughter, your hand under the table laced in his. 

But this time... your seat was empty. 

"You did it?" Wooyoung asked quietly from across the table, voice careful not to trigger whatever thread was barely holding San together. "You brought her here again?" 

San didn't respond right away. He dragged a hand through his hair and exhaled slowly, the breath shaky and uneven. "It's where we used to hang out all the time. If there's a chance it triggers something..." 

Yunho leaned forward, concern etched into every line of his face. "You can't keep doing this to yourself, man." 

"I'm not doing this for me," San said too quickly, then caught himself. 

He was. Of course he was. 

He needed you to remember -not just for you, but because he didn't know who he was without you. And this version of you, this distant version who looked at him like he was just another charming stranger, it was slowly unraveling him.

"She used to sit right there," San muttered, tapping the empty cushion beside him with his knuckle. "She'd steal fries off my plate even though she ordered her own. Called it a 'tax for good company.'" 

The group chuckled softly, but no one really smiled.

"She used to kick me under the table when I made bad jokes," San went on, his voice cracking ever so slightly. "And whenever someone flirted with me, she'd hold my hand tighter. Not because she was jealous. Just to remind me she was there. And now..." 

He looked up suddenly, eyes rimmed with red.

"She is here," he whispered, "but she's not. She doesn't know she was my everything." 

No one spoke. Mingi reached out first, a quiet hand on San's shoulder. Seonghwa slid his beer across the table without a word, just as he had the night San told them you were in the hospital.

"I brought her here last night," San continued, staring ahead like he was talking to someone far away. "Sat in this exact spot. Tried to recreate the night we celebrated her getting that job at the museum. Even told the waiter it was her promotion night again. He just looked at me like I was insane, and I had to tell her it was an excuse to get a discount."

He laughed bitterly.

"She smiled at everyone but me." 

Another beat of silence passed. 

"Why don't you just tell her?" Yeosang asked quietly. "Tell her who you are. What you were to her." 

San shook his head violently, the muscles in his jaw twitching. "Because if she really doesn't remember... then it's not her choice to love me again. It's just pressure. A story she doesn't recognize. She deserves to choose me. Even if it means she doesn't choose me." 

His voice broke completely on the last word. No one had seen San cry in years, not like this. Not with his head down, fists clenched, eyes burning with grief that hadn't found closure.

Wooyoung reached across the table and grabbed his hand, squeezing once.

"We'll help you," he said quietly. "Whatever memory you want to bring back, whatever moment you need to recreate next... we've got you. Even if she doesn't remember yet, we do." 

San swallowed hard.

His voice was hoarse when he whispered, "The picnic. The one in spring. With the wildflowers."

Yunho blinked. "The one where you both got locked out of the car and had to hitchhike back?" 

San gave a weak laugh through the tears. "Yeah. That one."

The friends all exchanged looks.

"God, she teased you for weeks after that," Mingi smiled. 

San's eyes turned to the door. "I just need to see her laugh like that again." 

The air was soft with spring, the kind of day where sunlight filtered through a pale blue sky and the breeze carried the scent of blooming grass. A wide field stretched out before them, dotted with patches of wildflowers that danced like secrets on the wind. 

San laid the blanket down carefully, pressing the corners with rocks just like he remembered. Every detail had been replicated: the chipped thermos filled with cold brew, the half-burnt cinnamon muffins, the little Bluetooth speaker already playing the playlist he'd made for you back then. Even the weather was working in his favor like the universe just wanted things to work out. 

He glanced toward you as you stepped barefoot on the blanket, your shoes left somewhere in the grass. You looked peaceful -curious, but peaceful. 

"This is... beautiful," you murmured, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. "Feels like déjà vu." 

San smiled, carefully setting down the sandwiches. "You... I mean, a friend said that exact same thing I brought him here." he lied.  

You looked up. "Really?" 

"Hmm." he plopped down across from you, legs crossed and heart pounding. "Y.... He also told me I'd probably forget the sunscreen and get a sunburn on just my nose."

You paused. "...Did you?"

He pointed to his nose with a sheepish grin. "Roasted like a marshmallow." 

But it wasn't any friend, it was you who warned him, and it was you who started teasing him for looking all red for days. 

A laugh slipped from you before you could stop it, and his heart ached at the sound. That laugh. That warmth. It was like watching the sun through fog. But something else was happening too, little things.

You hummed along to a song playing through the speaker, one that wasn't particularly popular. San had added it to the playlist on a whim, years ago. You shouldn't have recognized it. 

For a moment, it felt like everything was working out. Like he was making a good job on just reliving everything that happened. 

But then... the keys. 

He was about to whine about the car being locked out, but you stopped him before he could, swinging the keys in your hand up in the air. 

As he stood to throw away a crumpled napkin shortly after you arrived, you casually reached into the open car door and plucked the keys from the ignition where he'd left them hanging. You didn't even look twice. Just dropped them into your bag like it was second nature. 

San froze, confused about the sound. Confused about the fact that you had picked them up. 

"Hey," he said slowly, cautiously, "why'd you grab the keys?"

You blinked, caught off guard. "What?"

"The keys," he repeated, nodding toward your bag. "You took them out of the car."

You hesitated, frowning faintly. "Oh. I don't know. Just... reflex, I guess."

San's chest tightened.

Because last time -back then- you hadn't grabbed them. He'd left them in the ignition, and you'd both realized hours later, after the car locked itself automatically. It was the beginning of a mini-disaster -your phone was dead, his had no signal, and the two of you ended up hitchhiking back with a couple of old farmers and a trunk full of potatoes.

It had been the most ridiculous, uncomfortable, hilarious afternoon of his life.

And now -this time- you had stopped it from happening. Without realizing. Without remembering. 

Something in you had changed the outcome. 

"Are you okay?" you asked suddenly, your eyes scanning his face. 

San quickly shook himself back to the moment, forcing a smile. "Yeah. Yeah, I just... I was kind of looking forward to getting locked out again." 

You tilted your head. "Again?"

He grinned, half-teasing, half-choked with emotion. That was the first time you held his hand for more than five seconds without making a joke about his rings. But now that chance was gone. 

"I mean... getting locked out. That's it. Not again"

You stared at him, lips parted, like you didn't know whether to laugh or ask questions. 

But you didn't ask. Not yet. 

Instead, you reached out and grabbed his hand, quietly, gently. No jokes. No teasing. Just fingers threading through his, like you'd done it a hundred times before.

San swallowed hard and looked away, blinking back the sting behind his eyes.

"I really like being around you," you said softly, thumb brushing over his knuckles. "It's strange... but comfortable. Like... like I've missed you, even though I don't know you."

And with that, the tension in his shoulders gave out.

He didn't say anything.

He just nodded, eyes closed, clutching your hand like it was the only tether he had left.

"You don't need to lock us out of the car for us to spend more time together" and there it was, the teasing. "You should just... ask".

The sun had dipped below the hills after they both had finally chosen to stay there, painting the sky in deep purples and sleepy oranges. What began as an afternoon picnic had slowly turned into an evening spent inside the car, warm and close, with music playing softly in the background and empty snack wrappers strewn across the dash. 

San sat in the passenger seat, one leg propped up, his shoulder brushing against yours every time he shifted. Outside, the air had cooled, the windows fogged slightly with your breath and the temperature drop, casting a soft haze over the world beyond. 

You were both laughing, genuine and unfiltered.

"I still can't believe you tried to impress your professor with a meme," you giggled, hugging your knees to your chest. 

San groaned, burying his face in his hands. "It was intellectual humor. I was ahead of my time!" 

You nudged him, and he looked over -smiling, disarmed. 

He knew all your stories by heart, he swore he could tell them by himself. But he just loved hearing them from you again. 

There was something different in the air now.

The kind of quiet that only comes after hours of sharing too much. The kind where words run out, and the silence doesn't feel awkward. It feels close. 

The car had grown dark. Only the faint glow of the overhead light lingered, and the soft ambient music, now long into the playlist's more intimate side, filled the small space with low, lazy beats. 

Your gaze lingered on his profile.

Something in the way he looked that night -quiet, open, raw- pulled at something deep in you. Maybe it was the soft rasp of his voice. Maybe it was the way he looked at you like he'd seen this moment before, and had been waiting for it to happen all over again. 

You didn't speak as your hand reached for his.

He took it like he always had -with ease, like it was second nature. Like your fingers belonged between his.

"I don't really understand what's happening between us," you whispered, voice barely audible over the music. "But I don't want it to stop." 

San's breath caught. 

He turned toward you slowly, his expression unreadable for a moment -like he was caught between joy and heartbreak. 

"You don't have to understand it," he said softly, "just... stay in it." 

You nodded. "Okay." 

And then you kissed him. Not like strangers. Not like it was new. But like your mouth remembered the shape of his. Like your body leaned into his not with curiosity, but with longing that had been stitched into your bones. 

San sighed against your lips, his hand cradling your face like he was scared you might disappear if he let go. The kiss deepened slowly -lazy, warm, like hours of conversation had been leading to this single moment of surrender. 

Without a word, he climbed into the backseat, pulling you gently with him. Limbs tangled, laughter hushed as you maneuvered into the cramped space. The cold pressed against the windows while your bodies grew warmer. 

Clothes slipped away in pieces, not rushed -felt. And you didn't feel shy, you didn't feel nervous when his eyes fell over your bare breasts, because the comfort mixed with a familiarity you weren't sure how to handle. 

Good lord, he loved the way you always arched for him. 

San cupped your breasts, his thumbs momentarily twirling around your nipples as he leaned down to kiss you again. Your tongues tangled together, and the taste was so intoxicating but pleasant that you could only find yourself holding onto him even tighter. 

"It's the first time I like the taste of cigarettes so bad" you admitted out of breath with a smirk. 

His hands mapped your skin like it was familiar ground, his mouth following with reverence. He didn't worship you like someone new -he remembered you, in every soft kiss down your neck, every pause where he just looked. 

His lips went back to yours, crashing against your mouth as he dragged you on his lap, arms wrapped around your waist. 

I love you. I love you. I love you. 

His mind kept screaming, but he kept his lips sealed, forcing the kiss to grow even rougher as a way to keep those words from slipping and scare you away. 

"Wait... Let me..." you broke the kiss, trying to readjust yourself on top of him. 

Neither of you could help but giggle the moment you looked into each other's eyes as you shifted on his lap. 

With a hand on your neck, he pulled you into a new kiss, making sure his arms around you kept your bodies glued to each other. He groaned into the kiss when he felt your hand slipping in between your bodies to redirect him to your wet channel, both of you moaning as you pushed him into you the moment you lowered your hips. 

You weren't in love with him. Not yet. But your body moved like it still was. 

Your hips met his with the perfect depth and synch, like the two of you were dancing to a dance you had practiced several times before. 

And you had. 

San couldn't move his eyes away from you. His arms remained wrapped around your waist, just enough to pull your torso close to him and have his lips closing around one of your nipples, one hand teasing the other, while his free hand squeezed a spot below your ribs that made you squirm and moan. 

It was like he had studied your body, like his only aim was to make you feel good. 

"San" you moaned with a cracked whine. 

He swore he was going insane. He flipped the two of you over the backseat, resting his body in between your legs to pound into you, to angle his hips and make you lose control of your own body. One of your hands was on the window, the other on his shoulder. Yet he needed more. 

With a rough movement, he moved your hand away from the window to place it over his face. "Touch me, Y/n. I need your hands on me" he almost begged. 

And for that one night, in the backseat under a thousand quiet stars, San let himself fall again. Silently. Without hope or demand. Just the sweetness of closeness, of skin on skin, of your breath in his ear whispering his name like it still meant something. 

When it was over, tangled together under the soft cotton of his jacket, you fell asleep on his chest, heart steady against his. San didn't sleep. He just held you, eyes fixed on the ceiling of the car, wondering how long he could keep pretending that fate would give you back to him. 

For the first time, San didn't feel like recreating everything that happened between you two. It wasn't necessary. He was so caught up in taking the old you back, that he forgot about the possibility of him falling for you all over again under a whole different circumstance. 

Your relationship was bound to happen again. 

The next morning, the sun rose quietly. It didn't burst into the sky -it crept. Gentle and gold, seeping through the fogged windows of the car in soft beams that filtered across tangled limbs and rumpled jackets. 

You stirred first.

Your cheek was pressed against the bare skin of San's chest, rising and falling with every slow breath he took. His arms were still around you, protective and steady, and his heartbeat -low and calm- drummed beneath your ear.

You didn't move.

There was something safe about this. About waking up here, wrapped in a warmth that didn't feel foreign. Even though it should have. 

Your fingers shifted slightly, brushing against his ribs, and he tightened his hold just a little, as if even in sleep, he was scared you'd slip away. 

San was awake. 

He had been for a while. 

He hadn't moved, hadn't spoken. Just breathed you in and let the silence hold him. Let the weight of your body against his lull the ache in his chest to something soft, something tolerable. But even in this dreamlike calm, he knew it wasn't real. 

You didn't know him. 

Not really. 

Not the way you used to. 

Still, when you tilted your face up and blinked sleepily at him, your mouth barely parted, skin still kissed by the warmth of last night, San let himself pretend. Just for a second. 

"Hi," you whispered. 

His heart squeezed. "Hey." 

A quiet smile tugged at your lips. "Did we actually...?" 

He gave a soft laugh. "Hmm. We did." 

You leaned back slightly, your eyes scanning his features. The messy hair. The tired eyes. The little indent on his lower lip where he always bit when nervous. "I don't usually do that." 

"I know," he said gently, gaze never leaving yours. 

There was something in the way he said it -too sure, too knowing-, but before you could question it, he reached out, brushing a strand of hair from your face. His fingertips lingered on your cheek. 

"You're cold," he murmured. 

"I'm not," you replied, but you didn't stop him when he pulled his hoodie over your head and helped you into it, even though it was far too big and still smelled like him. 

You let yourself curl into his side again as if you'd done it before. Like you knew how. 

Outside, the world was waking up: birds calling through the trees, the breeze rustling through tall grass. But inside the car, time was still. The windows glowed softly with morning light. Neither of you spoke for a long while. 

Eventually, you tilted your head toward him again. "I feel like I'm always a step behind around you." 

San swallowed. "What do you mean?" 

You shrugged, fingers absently tracing the tattoo on his arm. "Like you know something I don't. Like... I'm supposed to understand all this, and I just... don't." 

He didn't answer right away. Instead, he turned his face toward the window, eyes catching the sunlight like it might burn away the truth if he held it too long. 

"I guess," he said slowly, "some things just need time." 

You nodded, even if you didn't really understand. "Is it crazy that I trust you?" 

"No," San replied, his voice so soft it could have shattered. "Not crazy at all." 

And in that moment, you reached out and laced your fingers through his again.

No questions. No demands. 

Just skin on skin. A touch that said, I don't remember, but this feels right. 

San closed his eyes and let himself stay in the dream for one moment longer. 

The theater was quiet.

Not empty, just quiet. One of those midweek showings where only a handful of people were scattered across the seats, too far to hear or care what anyone else was doing. 

You sat next to San with a bucket of popcorn balanced between you and the sleeve of your drink pressed against your thigh. The previews flickered across the screen, too loud, too flashy, but neither of you really cared what movie was playing. 

He'd picked the film. Something fun. Light. Familiar. But you kept sneaking glances at him instead of watching. 

He looked different in the darkness. More relaxed. A little slouched. His beanie pulled low and a soft flannel shirt hanging open over his tee. It was almost domestic, comforting, the way he sat beside you like he'd done it a hundred times. 

Maybe he had. 

You just didn't know it. 

While the next trailer blared on screen, San leaned forward, checking his phone. Probably a text from a friend -you hadn't met any of them yet, but he talked about them often. Warmly. 

He always spoke like there were pieces of you in his stories, but never named them. 

You glanced over casually... and paused. 

His phone was dim, but not enough to miss it. There you were, on his screen. His lockscreen. It was a photo of you in the sun, squinting at the camera, wearing sunglasses perched lazily on your nose and a soft smile playing on your lips. You looked free. Happy. Head tilted back slightly like you'd just been laughing at something he said. 

But you had no memory of it.

You didn't remember the shirt you were wearing. Or where you were. Or him being there. 

Your chest tightened, breath caught somewhere high in your throat. 

It was just a photo. But it was proof of something bigger, something you couldn't quite reach.

"You okay?" he asked suddenly, turning to look at you. 

You blinked, startled. He must have seen your face. Or maybe the way you were staring at his phone a second too long. 

You nodded quickly, brushing it off. "Yeah. Just... tired." 

He didn't press, but you could feel it. That slight shift in his posture. That tension in the air like he knew you'd seen too much. Or maybe... not enough. 

He slipped his phone into his pocket and reached out, his hand brushing yours between the armrests. When you didn't pull away, he linked your fingers gently, grounding you with the warmth of his palm. 

You leaned your head on his shoulder. He smelled like something soft and earthy. Familiar. Like you'd worn his hoodie once, weeks ago, and the scent had never left your skin. 

"I like being with you," you murmured, almost a whisper.

San's grip tightened ever so slightly.

"I like being with you too," he said, voice hushed, almost cracking.

Neither of you watched the movie. You just sat in the dark, wrapped in something fragile and unnamed, with your face on his lockscreen and a hundred memories you couldn't see, but were somehow starting to feel. 

After the movie ended, you both chose to take your love somewhere else. 

You were back at your apartment now, San leaning against the kitchen counter, sipping on that awful canned iced coffee he swore by, while you sat cross-legged on the couch, scrolling through your phone. 

He was telling you a story, something about a prank his friend -Yeosang- had pulled at a wedding. It was strange, telling you a story you were once part of, as if you had never been there. But he had grown used to it. 

But your mind wasn't really on it, because the image had stuck with you.

The lockscreen. 

That photo of you on his phone. 

You chewed your lip and finally cleared your throat. "Can... can I ask you something?" 

San stilled, the can pausing mid-air. "Sure." 

You stood, walked to him slowly, and held out your hand. "Your phone." 

His brows lifted. "Why?" 

"Just wanna see something." 

He hesitated, just for a second, before unlocking it and handing it over. You navigated to the lockscreen, pulling it up again. Your heart gave a strange little flutter.

"This picture..." you started softly, holding it out between you. "Where did you find this?" 

San looked down at the screen like it was something fragile. His thumb twitched against the seam of his jeans. 

"That was... I scrolled through your social media, and I found it" his voice was careful while he came up with a lie. "I thought you looked great, so I just... took it. I can change it if it makes you uncomfortable."

"No, it's just... I was surprised after seeing myself on your phone" you admitted. "I didn't expect it".  

He nodded. "You don't mind it?"

You frowned slightly. "No. I actually look good" you teased with a chuckle. "I look happy there".

San swallowed hard, his gaze lowering as he murmured. "You were."

You studied his face for a long moment. Then your lips curved upward, just a little. "Your taste in screensavers is nice, I guess." 

He let out a soft chuckle, but the sound didn't quite reach his eyes. 

"Funny, though," you added, unlocking your own phone. "Mine's kind of similar." 

You turned your screen toward him. It was a photo of a man's back -broad shoulders, hair messy in the wind, walking just ahead of you. The setting sun behind him made it hard to see clearly, but the place... it was the same river. The same wildflowers. The same time of year. 

San stared at it. Everything in him stilled.

"That's... a coincidence," he said, voice almost too calm.

You nodded slowly. "Guess so."

But neither of you said anything for a while.

You left the photo up a little longer, as if trying to feel something stir in your chest. Some sense of connection. But all you felt was the silence between you -quiet, waiting, fragile.

Then San smiled softly, stepping forward and brushing your hair behind your ear.

"Maybe we just like the same places," he said gently. 

You tilted your head, searching his face. "Maybe." 

But as you leaned into his touch, your hand brushing lightly against his chest, you couldn't shake the strange flutter in your ribs, like a memory had tried to surface, only to slip beneath the water again.

"It was the lockscreen I had when I woke up" you frowned. 

San froze when he heard that confession, but he remained silent, waiting for you to speak, waiting for the next thing you'd say. 

"I haven't told you before... Well, it isn't something I go around telling" you nervously chuckled. "Some months ago... I had an accident. A pretty bad accident. I was in a coma for a few weeks, and when I woke up my mind was completely blank from the past five years and on. I didn't recognize my friends, or my workplace... I didn't even expect to be living here. But, somehow, that lockscreen was the only thing that made sense and gave me calm when everything was upside down. And it’s ridiculous, because I can’t see his face, or know who he is, but it just makes me… feel relaxed. Like nothing will be wrong". 

San felt his lip trembling. For the first time in weeks, he felt guilty. Because he left you alone when you needed support, because he abandoned you when you needed guidance, only because he was scared of his own feelings when you looked at him differently. And now, he was scared of how you’d react when you remembered things. 

"Why are you crying?" you scoffed, feeling your own eyes filling up with tears. 

"Oh?" he asked, brushing the reverse of his fingers against his cheeks, finding them wet. 

"You aren't feeling sorry for me, aren't you?" you asked, wrapping your arms around his waist. 

"Never, bunny". 

The nickname slipped from his lips before he could hold it back. And he noticed, the flash of surprise, the sparkle in you eyes under the tears. 

That nickname stirred something in you. 

"Bunny?" 

He remembered the way you’d always jump around when excited, the way you’d make small jumps instead of just walking or running, and that nickname made complete sense for him back in the day. 

"It's a nickname. It just... slipped out" 

"I like it" you confessed with a giggle. 

The sun was dipping low behind the skyline as San waited outside your office building.

He leaned casually against his Jeep, black hoodie pulled over his head, one boot crossed over the other as he scrolled through his phone. To anyone passing by, he looked like someone killing time -apathetic, detached.

But his thumb hadn't moved in two minutes, because his entire body was tense. Stomach in knots. Eyes flicking toward the doors every few seconds.

You were running late.

Again.

Which gave his mind far too much time to spiral.

He hadn't expected this part to hurt so much. Watching you build new routines that didn't have him in them. Smiling at strangers, coming out of buildings he'd waited for you a hundred times before -when he was your boyfriend, your ride home, your safe place. Now he was just... someone you were getting to know. And that should've been enough, except today, it almost wasn't. 

"San?" a familiar voice called.

He stiffened. His eyes snapped toward the sound, heart dropping like a stone.

It was one of your coworkers. Julie, maybe? He vaguely remembered her from a few parties, or maybe your birthday dinner. The two of you had once danced together after too much wine. She had no filter and a memory like a vault. 

She approached, smiling wide. "Oh my God, it is you! Wow. It's been a while. Y/n didn't say you were picking her up today... Are you two back together?" 

San felt his blood turn cold.

His mouth opened, then closed again. "I... uh..."

"She looked so lost after the accident," Julie kept going, oblivious. "But I always had a feeling you'd come back. You two were like..." 

"Hey, sorry," San cut in suddenly, eyes locked on the entrance.

You were walking out. Right. Now.

Shit.

"Can we not... talk about this right now?" he muttered, voice urgent but polite, already stepping away. 

Julie blinked, confused. "What? Wait, aren't you...?"

"I'll text you," he said quickly, already turning his back.

And then he was moving, crossing the pavement fast, intercepting you before your eyes could sweep over to Julie's side of the street.

"There you are," he said with a practiced smile, pulling open the passenger door. "Rough day?"

You blinked at the sudden warmth, distracted by the way he touched your lower back, guiding you gently into the car like he'd done it a thousand times.

"Exhausting," you muttered as you slid in.

He rounded the Jeep fast, hands tight on the steering wheel by the time he started the engine. You didn't notice the way he was breathing just a little too fast. Or how he double-checked his mirrors like he wasn't just looking for traffic, but watching to see if someone was still standing nearby.

"How was your day?" you asked casually.

San gave a small, breathless laugh.

"Almost perfect."

The drive was silent for a few minutes, until you broke the silence again, curiously looking at him while turning your body to him. 

"Do you know Julie?"

"What?" he nervously eyed you, his glance on you lasted less than two seconds. 

"Julie, you were talking to her before I got out"

San sighed, trying to come up with an explanation. "Oh, yeah. She's a friend of a friend. It's been a long time since I saw her last". 

Before you could ask more about it, he rushed to come up with a new topic that would distract you from the fact that he knew your coworker. And he breathed out, relieved, when you didn't fight back as you played along with his conversation. 

Three weeks slipped by like honey in warm tea -slow, golden, and somehow too sweet to be real. You and San weren't official, but something between you had rooted itself deep. You texted constantly, called often. He picked you up from work most days. You spent weekends together now: grocery shopping like old lovers, laughing too loudly in parks, falling asleep on his shoulder without even realizing it. 

And still... you never asked. Never pried about the way he knew exactly how you liked your coffee, or how his hand found yours in the dark before you could even reach. Just like you didn't ask why he was so against you meeting his friends, or how he didn't want to meet yours. At some point, you just assumed he didn't have any, and he just was too embarrassed to admit it.  Just like you accepted he was more of a homebody than someone who went out and about, since most of your dates were either in places with barely anyone around or in either of your houses. 

You didn't know why you didn't ask, maybe you were afraid of the answer.

That night, and after too much arguing, you finally managed to convince San on going out. The pub looked just like you remembered it: old brick walls, low golden lights, the constant hum of music and conversation thick in the air. 

"Déjà vu," you said, stepping in beside him. "This place feels... familiar. And I don't mean it because of the day you brought me here a few weeks ago."

San smiled, a little sad, a little hopeful. "It should." 

You glanced up at him, eyes narrowed. "Why?" 

He shrugged like it didn't matter. "It's just the kind of place that feels like a memory." 

You were led to the same table. Same corner. Same view of the bar. San even ordered the same drinks for you both, though you didn't notice that part. You were too busy scanning the room, trying to place this strange pull in your chest. 

"Have you been here a lot?" you asked. 

He took a sip of his beer, staring at the spot where, once upon a time, he'd stepped in to save you from a stranger's wandering hands. "A few times before" he said "and it kind of stuck with me."  

You smiled. "Because of the atmosphere?" 

He met your eyes. "Because of the person I came with." 

Your gaze faltered at the heat behind his words. You swallowed hard, suddenly shy. "She must've been special." 

"She still is."

You laughed awkwardly, not sure how to reply to that -if you were misreading the moment or if he meant exactly what your gut whispered he did. 

"Hey," you said, trying to shift the tone. "You keep saying all these mysterious, romantic things and then changing the subject. Should I be worried you're secretly married or something?" 

San grinned, but it was the kind that didn't quite reach his eyes. "I'm not married." 

"But?" 

"But some things are hard to explain." 

You nodded slowly, reaching for your drink. "Well... I guess I don't need everything explained. Not if it keeps feeling like this." 

He looked up sharply at that. 

"Like what?" he asked. 

You hesitated.

"Like I've done all this before," you said quietly. "With you."

And San -heart breaking and healing all at once- only whispered back:

"You have." 

But you didn't hear it. Or maybe you just didn't let yourself.

So you smiled again, tilting your glass toward his with a playful smirk. "To familiar strangers."

San clinked his glass against yours. And for a moment, everything in him screamed to tell you the truth. But instead, he just said: 

"To second chances." 

As the night went on, you had shifted in the booth beside San, your hand brushing his every now and then, and neither of you moved it away. The world felt slower tonight, like it was holding its breath around you. 

The conversation had dipped into quiet comfort when a voice sliced through it, casual and familiar: 

"San?"

He turned quickly. A tall man with honey-blond hair and a denim jacket was approaching with a grin, Mitchell. You didn't recognize him, but the smile on his face said he recognized you.

And worse, he knew you.

"Dude! I didn't know you two were back together!" Mitchell laughed as he reached them, clapping San on the shoulder before turning toward you. "Y/n, you look good! How's your head, by the way? That whole accident thing was a shock for everyone..."

"Hey," San said sharply.

His voice was low. Controlled. But his hand gripped Mitchell's arm with a pressure that meant stop talking now. He blinked, confused.

You glanced between them, eyes narrowing slightly.

"Sorry, do I... know you?" you asked, trying to place the man's face.

Mitchell looked stunned for a beat. Then opened his mouth again to speak, but he was interrupted before he could make a sound. 

"She's not who you think," San cut in, voice firmer now. "You're probably confusing her with someone else." 

Mitchell's eyebrows shot up.

"What? San..."

San stepped closer to him, almost blocking you from view. "Drop it," he muttered through clenched teeth. "Please."

Mitchell froze.

And in that moment, something passed between them -something heavy, like grief and fear woven together. Then, after a pause too long to be casual, Mitchell gave a tight smile.

"Oh," he said finally, turning toward you. "My bad. You just... reminded me of someone. Sorry about that."

You laughed softly, but something about the exchange had stiffened your spine. "No worries. I get that a lot, apparently."

San's hand slid to the small of your back. Warm. Protective. A silent plea not to ask more.

You didn't.

Not really.

But as Mitchell waved goodbye and disappeared into the crowd, you glanced up at San with a quiet curiosity in your eyes.

"Is he an old friend?"

San smiled gently, like nothing had just happened. "Yeah. Known him for a long time."

You nodded slowly. "He seemed... surprised to see us together."

There was a pause. Just for a breath.

"Guess I surprise people sometimes."

"How did he know... about the accident though?" you furrowed your eyebrows, looking at him cautiously. 

"It's... that other person had a light accident, too. It's just a coincidence". 

A coincidence, again. 

You watched him a second longer before looking away. The conversation moved on, but the moment stayed with you. Like a thread you weren't quite ready to pull.

Actually, neither of you brought up that conversation for the rest of the night, not even when you were back in his place, like you always did with all the small details. You usually shrugged them off, swiped them off the carpet and forgot about them. But there were too many coincidences not to notice the huge bulge under the carpet in the middle of the living room. 

The room was quiet, too quiet. 

San's arm lay across your waist, his breath feathering warm against your shoulder, the rhythm steady, soothing. But your mind was anything but. 

Even in the dark, the memories -or lack of them- pulsed behind your eyes. You could feel the shadows of things just out of reach, a phantom touch on your hand before you moved. The way he smiled when he thought you weren't looking, the moments where you caught him watching you like you were something lost and he didn't know how to let go.

Your fingers grazed over the sheet as you slowly shifted his arm off your waist. He mumbled something incoherent, but didn't wake.

Barefoot and quiet, you slipped out of the bed and stood in the middle of the room, arms crossing over your chest, heart pounding like a second heartbeat.

Mitchell's voice rang in your ears."That whole accident thing was a shock for everyone..."

Another accident, where the main person also got hit on the head. 

"Back together".

And San's eyes, how fast they had darkened. How quickly he had shut it all down.

The question you'd buried for weeks finally pushed its way to the surface: Was he hiding something? Or someone?

Your stomach churned. What if he had a girlfriend he wasn't telling you about? What if this whole time, this strange intimacy you'd fallen into with him wasn't yours to fall into?

You were pacing in the dark before you realized it, your steps soundless on the cool floor. Back and forth. Breath uneven. Thoughts louder than your heart could handle. And then... thud.

You stumbled as your foot collided with something under the edge of the shelf in his living room. Bending down, your fingers found the edge of a small wooden box: worn, heavy with the kind of weight that wasn't just physical. There was something sacred about it. You shouldn't have opened it, but you did.

Inside were pieces of a life that didn't belong to you. And yet, they did.

A photo lay at the top. You, smiling in a way you'd never seen in the mirror. Your cheeks flushed, your hands cupping San's face like he was the only thing that existed. His eyes were shut in the photo, a smile tugging at his lips. Pure joy.

Your breath hitched.

Beneath it were dozens more. A photo booth strip of four blurry, laughing frames, a candid of you asleep against his shoulder, a selfie with his nose pressed to your neck, his eyes closed, and a faint lipstick mark on his cheek, you found one where your friends where also in the picture -and, by the way Yeosang was hugging San, you could tell they were close. And then, at the bottom, you found a familiar photo that made your stomach turn. You were wearing the exact same outfit of the picture he had as his lockscreen, and he was wearing the same clothes as the man in yours, same background... The only difference was that, this time, you two were together, kissing. 

You didn't remember any of them. But your heart... did. Then, tucked beneath the photos, letters.

You picked up the top one. Unfolded it with trembling fingers. It wasn't long.

You forgot me.

I smiled through it. You said "nice to meet you" like it was nothing.

It almost killed me.

But I'll wait.

I'll wait forever if it means you'll smile at me like you used to.

Your vision blurred. You blinked quickly. 

There were more. Pages of thoughts, of love, of ache. Some had dates, weeks ago. Some looked like they'd been written the day of your accident. One had a smear in the ink. A tear, maybe.

Day 9.

They said you might be able to hear me. So I'm here. Again.

I haven't left, not really. I go home to shower, sometimes. Eat if I remember. But I'm always back before sunset, just in case you wake up and wonder where I am.

I should've driven slower. I should've seen the turn. I should've...

You wouldn't be here if it weren't for me.

I replay it in my head every time I close my eyes. Your voice. The sound. The silence after.

I hold your hand and pretend you're just sleeping.

I talk to you like you'll answer.

Sometimes I pretend you do.

Everyone says to give it time. That you're strong.

But I know you're tired.

If you hear this, if anything inside you still remembers me, please, just come back.

I'll start everything over. I'll do it right this time.

I love you.

I love you.

I love you.

Come home.

Your breath came in shallow bursts. Your knees buckled. It was like everything was turning around you the more you read. 

Day 37.

You opened your eyes today.

I should be there. God, I want to be there. But I can't. Not yet.

They told me you didn't ask for me.

That you didn't recognize anyone.

And I know it's not your fault.

I know it's the injury, the trauma, the healing.

But it felt like the last piece of me cracked open when I heard it.

How do I look at you and pretend we're strangers?

How do I sit beside you and not touch you the way I used to?

How do I call you Y/n when every part of me still aches to say baby?

I've spent weeks memorizing our history in case I had to remind you of it.

But now... I don't know if you even want to remember.

I'm scared. Not of losing you.

I'm scared you've already let me go.

Maybe I'll see you tomorrow. Maybe I'll walk past your door and keep going.

But I'll always be waiting, just in case something in you still knows me.

The box fell from your hands as you lost the last bit of strength to keep reading, the pictures scattered at your feet like a life spilled out. 

You were the girlfriend.

You had been his.

He hadn't just found you by coincidence. He had been waiting. Recreating. Hoping.

A quiet sound behind you broke the silence. Then his voice -rough with sleep, confusion curling in its edges.

"Y/n...?"

You didn't turn around, you couldn't. Not yet. 

San stopped, reaching for the switch to turn on the lights, wishing he had never done it in the first place. All the pictures he tried to hide were around your feet, all the contents of the box were exposed. "Baby?"

Your fingers curled around the corner of a photo -your face in it, laughing so hard your eyes had shut. San had his arm around your neck, tugging you against him like he never wanted to let go. The kind of moment that couldn't be staged.

Slowly, you turned. He was halfway inside the living room, shirtless, hair tousled, his eyes going from sleepy to wide open the second he saw what you were holding.

His mouth parted. But no words came out.

And then you whispered: "...It was me."

He didn't move. Didn't speak. Just looked at you like everything he had worked so hard to bury had been laid bare, and now, there was nowhere left to hide.

You looked down at the photo again, your fingers brushed the smile you didn't remember, but somehow still felt. 

"I was the one you were waiting for."

His throat bobbed. You were crying now, but it didn't feel heavy. It felt like truth cracking open, like light breaking in. 

"Why didn't you just tell me?" you whispered. 

San swallowed hard. And finally, he stepped forward -eyes burning, voice trembling, as he stopped right in front of you. 

"Because if I told you the truth..." he reached for your hand -hesitated- then wrapped his fingers around it, pressing it to his chest. "...I was terrified you wouldn't want to come back."

You didn't look at him. You couldn't. Your chest felt tight, each breath shallow and sharp.

"Why?" you asked, your voice low and sharp like a blade.

He sat up, the sheets slipping from his torso, pooling at his waist. "Y/n..."

"Why did you lie to me?"

Silence.

You finally turned, eyes wide and brimming with betrayal. "You were my boyfriend. Before the accident. Before I lost everything. You were my life, and you let me believe you were just some guy at a bar?"

San's throat bobbed as he swallowed. The guilt had already settled deep in his face.

"I didn't know how to tell you," he admitted. "I didn't want to scare you off."

"Scare me?" you repeated, voice cracking. "You didn't want to scare me, so you thought pretending none of it happened was better?"

He opened his mouth, then closed it again. You could see the words scrambling in his brain, but none of them made it out.

"You thought it would be better to lie to me? To manipulate me into remembering you? Not even to remember you, but to force your way back into my life" your hands were shaking now. "You robbed me of my own story, San. You made me feel crazy every time I caught something familiar in you." 

"I was terrified," he said finally. His voice broke around the edges. "You looked at me like I was no one. You smiled like we'd just met. And I... I was scared you wouldn't want to come back."

Your breath caught in your throat.

"That wasn't your decision to make," you said, each word clipped, each syllable deliberate. "You should've told me the truth. You, my friends... someone should've told me." 

"They wanted to," he said quietly. "I asked them not to."

You laughed bitterly. "Of course you did". You stopped for a second "Why don't I have anything about you in my h...?"

But you didn't need to finish the question to know that he and your friends had something to do with all of that. 

"My social media?" San just looked down at your question, knowing one of your friends also managed to delete the two years of relationship off the Internet. "Of course..."

"I didn't do it to hurt you," he rushed to explain, eyes pleading. "I just wanted to be near you. I thought if we could do it all again, if I could just feel you again, maybe you'd remember. Maybe your heart would recognize mine, even if your head didn't."

You stared at him, so many feelings surging at once it made you dizzy.

"I've been falling for you," you whispered, your voice tight. "Thinking this was new, something just beginning. I let myself believe I was starting something real with you. But it was just... a copy. Shit, San. Can't you see how fucked up all of this is?!"

He stepped forward slowly, as if afraid to shatter what little remained between you. "Y/n..."

"You let me doubt myself, San. Let me question why everything felt like déjà vu. You watched me struggle and said nothing"

He looked like he might fall apart right in front of you.

"I didn't need to be protected," you said, softer now. "I needed the truth. I needed support, help."

San's expression twisted with grief. "I didn't know how to live in a world where you didn't remember me. I didn't know how to be near you and not be yours."

"You know, there's something I remember..." your voice wavered.

He looked at you hopefully.

"And it's that you always will choose the easy path. Working with me to remember you meant patience, dealing with frustration and obstacles, while just living this lie was quick and fast. You just needed to do absolutely everything you did the first time, and it was done. You didn't give a fuck about my recovery, but about having me in your life in the way you wanted"

It crushed him. You saw it happen. You watched his shoulders fall, his chest cave.

You shook your head, eyes brimming with unshed tears. "Now all I feel is that every moment between us lately was a lie. And I don't know how to trust anything you say anymore."

He reached for you, but you stepped back. 

"Don't," you whispered.

The distance between you stretched, heavy with the things he never told you. You went back to the bedroom, and when you walked outside, you were already dressed with your bag hanging on your shoulder. 

"I need time," you said, already walking toward the door.

"Y/n..." he called after you.

But you didn't stop, and you didn't look back.

The café was quieter than usual, the kind of silence that didn't come from a lack of noise, but from something heavier. The clinking of cups, low chatter, even the hum of the espresso machine, it all faded beneath the weight of everything San hadn't said out loud in days.

He sat across from Wooyoung, shoulders hunched over a cooling cup of black coffee, staring blankly at the chipped ceramic like it held the answers he couldn't find in himself.

Wooyoung didn't speak right away. He never rushed San in moments like this. Just sat there, sipping from his own cup, watching him with that steady, quiet patience that only came from knowing someone too well.

"She's stopped talking to all of us," Wooyoung finally said, his tone low but careful. "You know that, right?"

San gave a tired nod. "Yeah."

"She won't answer my messages. She ignores Mingi. I think she even blocked Yeosang."

Another nod.

Wooyoung leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "You think she hates us?"

"No." San's voice was rough. "But she doesn't trust us. And I don't blame her."

Wooyoung stared at him. "She trusted you, though."

A muscle in San's jaw jumped. "Until she found out."

"She found out because she tripped over a box full of the truth," Wooyoung said, more gently this time. "Not because you told her."

San rubbed at his face, hands dragging over tired eyes. "You think I don't know that?"

"I think you do," Wooyoung said. "I just don't know if you've let yourself know it."

There was a long pause.

"She asked me once," San said quietly. "If I had a girlfriend."

Wooyoung didn't respond.

"I told her no." his voice broke a little on the word. "I was lying straight to her face, and she looked at me like I was the safest place she'd been since the accident. And I just..." he swallowed, hard, "kept pretending I didn't know what that meant."

Wooyoung looked away, lips pressed into a thin line. "You were scared."

"I was a coward," San corrected. "I thought if I could just make her fall in love with me again, I wouldn't have to tell her how much it wrecked me to lose her. But she's not stupid. She noticed everything. The bar, the photo, the letters... and then I watched it all snap together in her eyes."

Wooyoung was quiet for a moment before he asked, "What did she say?"

San's laugh was low and sharp, completely humorless. "She asked me why everyone lied. And I said... I told her I was terrified she wouldn't want to come back."

He paused. Swallowed again.

"And the worst part?" he looked up, eyes wet, voice shaking. "She didn't deny it."

Wooyoung exhaled, leaned back in his chair. "She's hurt. Give her time."

"What if time's the thing that takes her even further away from me?" San whispered. "What if every day she spends without me is a step closer to forgetting everything we were?"

Wooyoung reached across the table, gripped his wrist. "Then you wait. You wait for as long as it takes. You loved her enough to lie, fine. But now, love her enough to let her be angry, let her feel what she needs to feel. That's the only way this ends in something real."

San didn't answer. He just nodded once, slow and hollow, like his body had finally caught up to the weight his heart had been carrying all along.

Meanwhile, you weren't able to go on. 

Just after you had asked, you had all of the memories from your relationship back in your house. Although they were inside a box you didn't dare to open yet. His words were enough to haunt the silence: "I was terrified you wouldn't want to come back."

The worst part was... he wasn't wrong. 

You didn't dare to open the box and dig in those memories because you were scared the feelings from the past wouldn't align with the feelings you had. What if you didn't love him back then? What if your relationship wasn't good shortly before the accident? What if...? 

You stood in the kitchen barefoot, wrapped in one of his hoodies that had been on the back of a chair, too tired to care if it still smelled like him. You hated that it did. That your body leaned into it, even as your heart tried to push away.

Your phone buzzed once. His name.

You stared at the screen until it faded back to black. A few more minutes passed before you turned it off completely.

You had trusted him.

From the first moment he sat across from you at that bar, with his cocky smile and flirty banter, you had leaned into the connection like you were meant to. And it felt like fate, hadn't it? The easy rhythm, the way he knew how to make you laugh, how he always knew just when to reach out or fall quiet. But it hadn't been fate. It had been a plan. His plan. A play-by-play reenactment of a life you'd already lived, without even knowing it. You'd fallen for him thinking it was new. Thinking you were choosing him, but he'd already had you. And he didn't tell you. He couldn't risk the chance that this version of you wouldn't pick him again.

That was the ache now, the hollow pit in your chest. Not just the lie, but the feeling that he'd stolen your choice.

You pressed your forehead against the cold glass of the window, blinking past the tight sting in your eyes. The street below was quiet, golden with morning light, like the world didn't care that everything inside you had shifted. Like nothing had changed at all.

You should have felt anger. And you did. But beneath it was something deeper and more painful: grief.

Because now every memory you'd made with him -every laugh, every kiss, every moment where your heart had fluttered- was tangled with the question: Was it ever really real?

And still, your body remembered the shape of his arms, the warmth of him in the middle of the night, the softness in his voice when he whispered your name like a prayer. You'd fallen in love with him again. That part was real. And maybe that was the cruelest truth of all.

Unable to keep that pain on your own, you finally called her. Jazmin picked up on the second ring. "Y/n?"

You didn't say anything at first, just breathed, your voice caught in the place where pain sat too deep to speak.

"Are you okay?" she asked, softer now, like she already knew the answer.

"I need to talk... Can you come?"

"I'm coming."

You didn't argue. Didn't try to sound fine. You just hung up and curled into the corner of the couch, knees to your chest, staring at the ghost of yourself in the dark TV screen. The reflection of a girl who didn't know who she was anymore. Not really.

When Jazmin arrived, she didn't knock, just stepped in like she used to, like her body still remembered where the spare key was and how your apartment smelled in the morning. She looked at you, standing there in San's hoodie, eyes rimmed in red, and said nothing at all, just wrapped her arms around you. And for a second, you let it break. The dam. The wall. The composure. 

You sobbed into her shoulder, and she didn't ask questions. Not yet.

"I thought I was going crazy," you finally said when the tears had dulled to hiccups. "I kept thinking, maybe I was the other woman. Maybe he had a girlfriend he hadn't told me about."

Jazmin pulled away just enough to look at you, brushing your hair from your face. "You were the girlfriend. You are the girlfriend."

"Why didn't anyone tell me?"

She hesitated. "He asked us not to. Said he wanted you to come back to him on your own. That if it wasn't real, if you didn't choose him, it would crush him."

"But what about me?" Your voice broke again. "What about what it's done to me?"

She flinched, and you hated that you made her look like that. Like this pain had spilled over into someone else's bones too. But you couldn't take it back. Couldn't shrink it.

"I needed to know the truth," you whispered. "I needed someone to tell me. Instead, I was just... living in this version of a life that had already happened. Like a puppet on strings I didn't even know were there."

"I know," she said, pulling you in again. "God, I know, Y/n. I wanted to tell you so many times. But he looked so lost. So afraid. We all thought he'd break if you didn't come back to him."

"Maybe I needed to break too," you murmured, pressing your forehead to her shoulder. "So I can figure out who I really am without everyone else deciding it for me."

Jazmin nodded. Her fingers carded gently through your hair. You stayed there, the two of you curled into a silence that felt like a bandage over an open wound. 

It had started to rain before you even realized where your feet had taken you. 

You hadn't planned on going anywhere after work, just a walk to clear your head. No destination, no headphones, just the kind of silence that city noise couldn't reach. And yet, somehow, you were standing in front of a café you didn't recognize... or at least, didn't think you did. Still, something about it felt familiar. Not in the "I've-been-here-once" kind of way, but in the way a smell can unravel a dream, or a song can feel like a memory even when you've never heard it before.

The little sign above the entrance read Moka, the white paint faded into soft gray along the edges, weathered but charming. Your fingers curled around the brass door handle before you could talk yourself out of it.

The bell chimed above your head as you stepped in.

Soft jazz drifted from speakers hidden somewhere behind the plants and bookshelves that crowded the walls. The scent of roasted beans, vanilla, and something faintly citrusy wrapped around you like a warm coat. It felt like stepping into someone's living room, like a place where stories had been left behind, carefully folded into the creases of napkins and coffee sleeves.

You let your eyes scan the space and saw it: the corner booth near the window with the chipped table and the crooked lamp above it.

It called to you.

You didn't know why you sat down. You just... did.

You took a breath, your fingertips tracing over the wood. A divot near the corner snagged your nail, like muscle memory. You pulled your hand back.

A minute later, the bell above the door chimed again. You glanced up casually, and froze.

San.

He stepped inside, brushing rain off his shoulders, his hair damp and sticking slightly to his forehead. He looked like he hadn't expected the weather to turn on him so suddenly. He looked like he hadn't expected you, either.

For a heartbeat, neither of you moved. Then his eyes widened, and yours did the same.

"I didn't know you came here," you said, unsure why that was the first thing that came out.

He blinked, stepping in further. "I didn't think you even knew this place."

"I didn't," you replied. "I was just walking and... I don't know. My legs brought me here."

He gave a small, breathless laugh. Not mocking, just stunned. "Yeah. That... that sounds about right."

You both hesitated, hovering in two different worlds that used to be the same one. Then, without asking, he crossed the room and sat across from you. You didn't stop him.

You ordered two coffees, as if your hands remembered what your head didn't. Yours with oat milk and cinnamon. His, black with one sugar. You didn't realize what you'd done until the waitress left and San looked at you like he'd been struck.

"What?" you asked.

He shook his head. "Nothing. Just... you remembered."

You frowned. "I didn't. I guessed."

He didn't argue. Just gave a tired, tender smile and murmured, "Good guess."

The silence stretched between you. Not tense, exactly. Just... full. Like everything you hadn't said was sitting in the space between your cups, waiting for the right moment to rise.

You looked at him carefully. His eyes were heavier than you remembered. The curve of his mouth pulled more at the corners now, like he smiled less often. There were shadows beneath the tattoos on his arm, and tension in the way he gripped the edge of the table.

You stirred your coffee even though it didn't need stirring. "Why didn't you tell me?"

He stared at the chipped edge of the table. "Because I was scared."

"Of what?"

"Of ruining everything," he said. "Of trying to hold on to something that wasn't mine anymore. I kept thinking: what if you remembered and didn't want it? What if you didn't remember and I pushed too hard and it felt like I was trying to trap you in something you couldn't feel?"

Your heart twisted. "That doesn't make what you did okay."

"I know," he said instantly. "I know that. I lied to you. I took away your choice. I tried to rewrite something instead of... letting you read it again. On your own."

You watched him closely. There was no act. No polished version of himself. Just the raw, tired ache of someone who had held his breath for too long.

"And the accident?"

His eyes flicked to yours, and something flickered through them, shame, mostly. Pain.

"We were fighting. Some months ago, you started thinking of publishing the comics you had been working on, but I wasn't... supportive enough. I said they were a cute side thing, and it all blew after that" he said. "I... we started arguing, we weren't listening to each other, and the fight seemed to keep getting worse. It was raining. I slipped off the curb and..." he exhaled sharply, voice breaking. "The car didn't stop in time, I crashed against a tree, and you were the one who received the worse end"

You swallowed. "And after that?"

"I came to see you," he whispered. "Every day. For weeks. I sat beside you, read to you, talked to you even though you couldn't hear me. I brought you the cactus from your studio. I..."

You looked away, eyes stinging. "But when I woke up..."

"I stopped coming," he said, his voice barely audible now. "Because I thought... it would hurt less to disappear than to watch you forget me."

The words settled between you like ash.

"I didn't forget you," you whispered. "Not really. You were everywhere. In things I didn't understand. The way I reacted to you. The way I looked for you even when I was mad at you."

He watched you like you were saving him and tearing him apart at the same time. You exhaled, slow and unsteady. "You weren't a stranger, San. Not really. I didn't know why, but I kept choosing you anyway."

His lips parted, but no sound came out. Just a breath. Just gratitude.

The rain outside began to lighten, softening into a misty hush. Inside the café, the world had folded in around you: warm, quiet, intimate. Like the past and present were finally speaking to each other in the same room.

"Let me take you home," he said gently.

You didn't respond right away. You just nodded, slowly, carefully, like your body was making a decision your mind still hadn't caught up to.

He opened the door for you, and the wind brushed past you both. For a moment, you stood under the awning, watching the city blur behind rain. And then you turned to him and said, "You'll answer everything, right? If I ask?"

He looked you dead in the eye. "Anything. Everything."

And for the first time in a long time, when you both stepped into the rain and toward his car, it didn't feel like running. It felt like returning.

"What were we like... before the accident?"

He didn't answer right away.

You watched the side of his face, the soft twitch of his jaw, the way his eyes stayed locked on the road a second too long, like he was organizing memories in a drawer he hadn't opened in a while.

Then, slowly, he reached toward the glove compartment and pulled out a small leather-bound notebook, its corners frayed from use. He held it out to you without a word.

You looked down at it, frowning as you took it in your hands. The leather was warm, familiar. There was a tiny sketch of a cat doodled in the corner of the cover. Your sketch. You flipped through the pages.

Your handwriting.

Your drawings.

Short, messy notes written in blue pen. Dialogue bubbles. Storyboards. Scenes about a couple waking up late, arguing over grocery lists, dancing in the kitchen in their socks. Pages where the girl looked suspiciously like you, and the boy... well.

"Is this mine?" you asked.

He nodded. "You were working on it all the time. You said you wanted to make a comic about a normal couple. No drama, no perfect endings, just real life. Ours."

You flipped through the pages, stunned. You had no memory of drawing these, but the style was undeniably yours. Every detail made your chest ache with something you didn't know how to name.

"I don't remember any of this."

"I know," he said softly. "But you loved this project. You were going to publish it. You even had a name for it."

You looked at the front page. In your own messy cursive: "Monday Mornings."

A breath caught in your throat. You didn't even know why, but that title felt like something you'd once whispered in someone's ear, laughing under the covers.

"I didn't support you enough," San said suddenly, voice low and raw. "You wanted to take it public. You had this pitch ready, you were so excited. And I... I said we should wait. That, maybe, it wasn't the right time. I thought I was protecting you. I didn't realize I was just making you feel small."

You didn't answer, you just kept turning the pages.

A drawing caught your eye: the girl kissing the boy's shoulder while he made coffee. A heart drawn above them. Underneath, you'd scrawled:

"You always said mornings were cruel. So I made us soft."

Your fingers trembled.

"You said something before the accident," San continued quietly. "You said, 'Why does it feel like you're always patting my head instead of holding my hand?'"

You looked out the window. The trees blurred past in green shadows. Your heart thudded somewhere in your stomach.

"I never forgot that," he said. "I never stopped hearing it."

You closed the notebook and held it close to your chest.

He glanced at you, uncertain. "Are you okay?"

You nodded. But you didn't feel okay. You felt like you were standing at the edge of a memory that had just started to turn around and look at you.

The days blurred.

Not in the romantic way people talked about when they were in love, not in the way that made time feel like honey or sunsets. No, those days blurred like ink in water, like memory diluted until it left only a pale ghost of what used to be.

You tried. 

God, you tried. 

You woke up each day with hope clawing its way up your throat, searching the mirror for a spark, a flicker, something familiar in your own reflection. And sometimes, there were moments. A smell, a certain playlist, the way San's fingers traced lazy circles against your wrist when he thought you weren't paying attention. Sometimes it hit you like déjà vu, but soft, like the memory itself was holding its breath.

Other times, though, it felt like you were pretending to live someone else's life. Walking through a home filled with photos you couldn't remember taking, laughing at inside jokes you didn't really get, wanting to reach for San, only to stop midway, unsure if the heat in your chest was real... or borrowed from a version of you who no longer existed.

San didn't push. Not in words, anyway.

But sometimes you felt the weight of his gaze. Quiet desperation woven between the lines of his patience. And that's when it got hard. When it hurt the most, when you felt like you were failing both him and yourself.

That morning, you'd had another flash.

You had opened a kitchen drawer, reaching for a spoon, and your hand landed on a small, yellow plastic ring. The kind you get from a vending machine. For some reason, your breath caught. You had no idea why, but your fingers trembled.

You sat on the floor and cried.

San had found you there, and he didn't ask questions. He just sat beside you and held you close until your breathing slowed.

But he didn't say anything, either. And that was almost worse.

You both had grown used to that type of scene, where you just broke down and he held you until he made sure you were breathing properly again. 

Now, in the car, your fingers fidgeted in your lap. "I hate this."

He blinked. "Hate what?"

"This... in-between. Not remembering. Remembering too much. Never enough. It's like I'm stuck between two mirrors, and I keep seeing myself, but never fully."

He nodded slowly, keeping his eyes on the road.

"I'm trying," you added, barely a whisper.

"I know you are," he said. 

Silence again. Just the tires splashing over wet asphalt.

"But it's hard," you admitted, voice cracking. "It's hard needing space from someone who makes you feel safe. It's hard needing time from someone who clearly never stopped loving you."

He didn't answer right away. Just exhaled, slow and careful. "Do you know how many times I've almost told you everything again? How many times have I looked at you and wanted to say 'Just come back'? But I couldn't. Because if I pushed too hard, I'd lose you all over again."

"Sometimes it feels like you expect me to be her again. That girl I was."

"I don't," he said quickly, sharply. "I just miss her. That's different."

"Is it?" you asked. "Because it doesn't feel different when I look into your eyes and all I see is disappointment every time I get something wrong."

"I'm not disappointed in you..."

"Yes, you are!" you snapped. "Every time I forget something, you look away. Every time I hesitate, you sigh like it's breaking your heart."

He gripped the steering wheel tighter. "Because it is. But that's not your fault" his jaw flexed. "I know it's hard, but I never said you had to be her, that version of you. I love you. Now. Not just the version of you I lost."

You laughed bitterly. "But it's not that simple. You can say that all you want, San, but I see it. I see you looking for her in me. In every little gesture. Every place we go. You're always chasing the past. And I'm scared I can't give it back to you."

The air in the car turned cold.

He stared at the road, eyes dark. "You think this is easy for me? Watching you look at me like I'm a stranger, when I know what your laugh sounds like when you do something you like? When I still hear your voice every night in my head, begging me not to let you go?"

That silenced you.

His voice cracked. "I would give anything to forget how you used to love me, because maybe then, this wouldn't feel like being stabbed in the same place over and over."

You turned to him slowly. His knuckles were white on the steering wheel. His shoulders were tight with things he wasn't saying.

You stared at him. "I don't know who I am anymore. What if there's nothing to go back to?"

The words cut deep. You hadn't meant for them to come out like that. But now they hung in the air, heavy and irreversible.

His jaw tensed. "So what, Y/n? You want me to let go? To pretend none of it ever happened?"

You pressed your lips together, looking away again, knowing there was something cooking in his brain before he happened again. 

"I'm not some villain in your story. And I'm sorry if it seems like I'm pushing you, but..." he stopped for a few seconds, getting some air back in his lungs "I'm trying to love someone who doesn't remember loving me. Do you know how hard that is? To have all these memories, all this history, and none of it matters unless you feel it too?" he took another deep breath, gulping down the knot in his throat. "But I'm not letting you go, I won't give up and I won't let you give up, because I'll be on every fucking step of the way. And if you don't remember me, then fuck it. We'll make new memories together that will be just as meaningful. But I'm not giving up on you, Y/n. I refuse to".

You hesitated, but you were thinking of the best answer to that. And just as you were ready to turn to him to speak again. It happened. 

CRASH.

The sudden screech was the only noise in your ears for a few seconds, the blur of headlights the only thing you could see. 

Your body snapped forward, seatbelt biting into your chest. San's arm instinctively flung in front of you, shielding, even as the car spun once and thudded to a stop against the guardrail.

Silence.

Rain tapped against the cracked windshield. 

You gasped, chest heaving, eyes wide as your hands scrambled to reach him.

"San..."

"I'm okay," he croaked, already undoing his seatbelt. "Are you hurt? Look at me, are you okay?"

Your lips trembled, but you nodded. 

He exhaled in shaky relief. His forehead had a small gash, bleeding into his eyebrow, but he was alert. Breathing.

"I'm fine," you whispered, touching his face. "You... you're bleeding."

He gave a strained laugh. "You should see the other guy."

You let out a sob that was half a laugh, half terror. Outside, the driver of the other car was already stepping out, waving, checking his own vehicle. No one was badly hurt. It was a scrape, a scare, not a tragedy.

But to you, it felt like an echo. Like lightning returning to the same scar in the ground. Your fingers trembled as you unbuckled your seatbelt. San looked at you, and for a second, neither of you moved.

 "God, I thought..."

Your fingers trembled against his jacket, clutching him like you might lose him again. And maybe it was nothing. Just a fender-bender, but something inside you had shifted. A pressure in your chest, the sound of his voice, the flash of memory, your fingers curled around his wrist, and for a split second, you remembered.

A birthday.

Candles.

His laugh in the dark.

His hand brushing your cheek.

A yellow plastic ring.

It was small, barely a second, but it hit you so hard you flinched.

San caught the look in your eyes.

"What is it?" he asked, still breathless.

You shook your head slowly. "I... I think I remembered something."

He paused.

You closed your eyes.

"I think... you asked me to marry you once."

San's heart stopped. And then he smiled. A fragile, aching smile, like something inside him had cracked open.

"You said no," he whispered. "And then you made me ask again with a yellow plastic ring."

Your hand trembled over your heart. The ring in the drawer, the one that made you cry without knowing why.

You looked at him again, really looked, and for the first time, he didn't feel like a stranger.

After a few months, spring returned to the city in full bloom -and so, in your own way, did you.

After the second accident, everything shifted.

You didn't lose any more memories that night. If anything, something inside you cracked open, like a door that had always been there, waiting to be found. After that, you worked harder than ever. Not just because you wanted your memory back, but because he never stopped fighting for you, even when you didn't feel like the same person he loved.

You dove into it: the photographs, the journals, the smell of his cologne on your pillow, the comic sketches you once hid inside an old shoe box. The coffee shop, the places you used to go, the food he said you hated, but you found yourself ordering just to see.

Little by little, pieces returned.

Not all of them. You still forgot some dates. You still couldn't remember why Hongjoong always called you "Captain," or what made Yeosang cry-laugh the first time you met. But the important things? You held onto those with everything you had.

You remembered how San's hand fit at the small of your back, the way he used to hum when he thought you were asleep, the soft way he'd whisper your name when he was half-asleep and needed to make sure you were still there.

And now, months later, you were there.

The bar buzzed with warmth and celebration, full of your friends, full of light. Outside, fairy lights glittered across the rooftop. Someone had already smashed the cake. There was a karaoke battle happening in the corner. Seonghwa had taken over the music, and Wooyoung was trying to get everyone to pose under a banner that said you were celebrating the publication of your comics.

Your first printed volume. A comic book. A real one.

And even though you smiled at everyone and thanked them with full sincerity, there was only one person you were truly looking for in the crowd.

You spotted him on the couch near the edge of the room, nursing a drink. White shirt, rolled sleeves, his chain catching the light. He looked impossibly soft in the chaos, like a quiet moment wrapped in a person.

He was watching you, eyes half-lidded, that little smirk on his lips he didn't even realize he had when he looked at you.

You didn't overthink it. You just walked across the room, climbed right into his lap like you'd done a hundred times before, and leaned in close, so close your breath hit his ear. "Don't think I forgot the first night you let me draw you naked."

He choked.

You could feel the sharp inhale beneath your palms as his hands gripped your waist, stunned. "What... what did you just say?"

You pulled back slowly, watching his face twist with disbelief.

"Bedroom floor," you said. "You were freezing but you wouldn't move until I got the curve of your shoulder right. You were so dramatic."

His eyes filled with something raw.

"No one else knew that," he said hoarsely. 

You shrugged softly, nose brushing his. "I told you I'd come back to you. I'm not all the way there yet, but I'm close. I feel it."

He stared at you like you were the answer to every prayer he'd never spoken out loud. Like you were a miracle wearing your own skin.

And then he kissed you.

There, in the middle of the rooftop, with music in the background and your friends around you and the stars blinking quietly above, he kissed you like the world had finally come back into focus.

"You remembered the sketch," he whispered against your mouth.

You smiled. "I remembered you."

And as his arms wrapped around your waist, holding you as if afraid to blink, you knew one thing for sure:

You weren't just returning to your old self, you were becoming more, you were rewriting everything with love in your hands.

The apartment was quiet, washed in golden lamplight and the soft shuffle of sheets.

You sat cross-legged on the bed, sketchbook in your lap, pencil smudged between your fingers. San lay beside you, one arm bent under his head, the other lazily tracing patterns along your thigh, like he couldn't stand to stop touching you, even for a second.

"Is that me again?" he asked, voice low and a little sleepy.

You smiled, not looking up. "No. It's us."

He shifted, propping himself up on one elbow to peek. The page showed a messy panel -your typical style- drawn in soft graphite. Two figures sitting in bed, one sketching, one watching. Simple. Intimate. 

"I look good," he said, grinning.

You rolled your eyes. "You always say that."

"Because it's always true." he leaned in, brushing his lips over your shoulder. "But also... because you draw me the way you see me. And that version of me? That's my favorite."

You paused, pencil hovering mid-air.

Then, quietly: "I think I'm happy again."

His smile faded into something softer. "Yeah?"

You nodded. "Not just because I remember things now. But because I feel like myself again. Like... we're back. But not just back... better."

San turned onto his side, pulling you into his arms until your cheek rested against his chest. His heartbeat was steady beneath your ear.

"You know," he whispered, "you could forget everything all over again, and I'd still find my way back to you."

You pulled back slightly to meet his eyes. "You don't have to."

"I know." he kissed your forehead. "But I would."

The sketchbook slipped from your lap, forgotten. The city murmured outside the windows, but inside -here, in this room, in his arms- you had everything you needed.

You curled into him, your breathing syncing with his. And as the night folded around you like a favorite page in a well-loved book, you knew you'd never forget this feeling again.

Home.

Him.

You.

[kirilunimimi]

Sugar-coated Sin

pairing(s) : Choi San x reader

word count : 8383

summary : A harmless cookie, a hidden crush, and a night of no return.

genre : smut

warning(s) : Explicit sexual content, aphrodisiac use, desperation, begging, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, slight corruption kink, switch!San, submissive reader, rough and messy oral, mild dub-con due to aphrodisiac effects, fluids everywhere, slight degradation, heavy praise, cock-drunk reader, love confessions in the heat of the moment. Let me know if I missed anything!

A/N : Maybe...just maybe, this one is the filthiest fic I've ever written :>

Minors do not interact, 21+ only!!

🪐smut under the cut 🪐

The glow of the TV screen flickered across the dimly lit living room, casting soft shadows on the walls. The movie played on, but neither of you was really watching. San sat comfortably on the couch beside you, legs spread lazily, one arm slung over the backrest while his other hand rested on his thigh. You had invited him over under the pretense of a casual movie night, a friendly hangout between neighbors. But the truth? You’d been harboring a quiet, desperate crush on him for months, watching him through your window when he left for the gym, catching glimpses of his toned arms whenever he wore sleeveless shirts, and hearing his deep, sleepy voice whenever he greeted you in the morning.

Tonight, he was so close, sitting right beside you, his scent—a mix of fresh laundry and something unmistakably San—lingering in the air. Your heart raced, but you kept your cool, tucking your legs beneath you as you reached for a handful of popcorn.

The coffee table in front of you was littered with snacks—half a bag of chips, an open pack of gummies, and a single, unopened box of purple cookies. It had been there since the beginning of the night, untouched, yet its unusual color stood out among the rest.

San’s sharp eyes landed on it after a while. “What’s that?” he asked, nodding toward the box as he leaned forward to grab his drink.

You blinked, feigning curiosity as you followed his gaze. “Hmm?”

“The cookies. They’re purple.” His brows furrowed slightly as he picked up the box, turning it in his hands. “Where’d you get these?”

You shrugged, acting completely indifferent. “I dunno. Maybe my friend left them here last time. Probably blueberry or something.” You popped another piece of popcorn into your mouth, keeping your expression perfectly neutral.

San hummed, seemingly satisfied with your answer. He opened the box with a crinkle of plastic, pulling out a cookie. It was a deep shade of violet, oddly smooth, and smelled faintly sweet—almost floral. He gave it a brief sniff before shrugging and taking a bite.

It took barely a second before he hummed in appreciation. “Oh, these are good,” he muttered through a mouthful.

You glanced at him, watching as he chewed slowly, his jaw flexing with every movement. “Yeah?”

“Mmh,” he nodded, already reaching for another. “They’re soft, kind of sweet but not too much. You really never tried them?”

You shook your head, hiding your smirk behind the rim of your glass as you sipped your drink. “Nope.”

San, completely unaware, continued eating. One cookie turned into two. Then three. Then four. You watched as he absentmindedly finished the fifth, licking a stray crumb off his thumb before grabbing a sixth without thinking. He was completely at ease, eyes flicking back to the screen as the movie droned on, paying no attention to the way his fingers twitched slightly against his thigh.

It started subtly.

The first thing you noticed was the way he shifted in his seat, rolling his shoulders as if trying to shake off an odd sensation. His tongue darted out to wet his lips, and his brows knitted together briefly before he relaxed again. You pretended not to see it, keeping your gaze trained on the screen even as you observed him from the corner of your eye.

Minutes passed, and San’s breathing grew a little heavier. Not noticeably so—but you caught it. His chest rose and fell just a fraction quicker than before. His fingers twitched again, flexing briefly before he balled them into a loose fist.

Then, he exhaled sharply through his nose.

You turned to him, feigning curiosity. “You okay?”

San tensed at your voice, his head snapping toward you. His pupils were slightly blown, his lips parted as if he was about to say something—but he hesitated. His jaw clenched.

“Yeah,” he muttered, voice slightly hoarse. He cleared his throat. “Yeah, I’m fine.”

You blinked, tilting your head innocently. “You sure? You look kinda… hot.”

San inhaled deeply through his nose. His fingers dug into his thigh, gripping the fabric of his sweatpants as he forced out a chuckle. “M’fine.”

But he wasn’t.

The flush creeping up his neck told a different story. His body was heating up, slow and unbearable, a warmth that started in his stomach and trickled downward, pooling between his legs. He shifted again, subtly this time, pressing his thighs together as if that would help. His cock twitched, and he bit the inside of his cheek, willing it to calm down.

Not now. Not here.

But fuck—he could feel everything. The way his clothes clung to his skin, the way the air suddenly felt too thick, the way his heartbeat pounded just a little too hard in his ears. And then there was you.

You, sitting beside him, completely oblivious. Looking so fucking innocent.

San let out a slow breath, gripping his knee to steady himself. He could feel his body reacting against his will, heat rushing straight to his groin as a dull ache settled low in his stomach. He swallowed thickly, pressing his tongue to the roof of his mouth.

It had to be the cookies.

He glanced at the empty wrappers on the table, realization dawning—but it was too late. His body was already betraying him.

And the worst part? You weren’t even helping.

You shifted slightly, your thigh brushing against his just barely, and San had to suppress the whimper threatening to escape his lips. Fuck. He was too aware, too sensitive, too turned on, and you weren’t even doing anything.

Or maybe you were.

Maybe it was the way you leaned closer to grab your drink, your scent hitting him in full force. Maybe it was the way your lips parted slightly when you took a sip, or the way your throat bobbed when you swallowed. Maybe it was the way your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the hem of your shorts, completely unaware of the hell you were putting him through.

Or maybe—just maybe—it was the way you turned to him, brows furrowed in faux concern as you murmured, “San, are you sure you’re okay? You look really flustered.”

His breath hitched.

You were too good at this. Too good at acting clueless.

And fuck, he didn’t know how much longer he could hold himself back.

San swallowed hard, forcing himself to focus—on anything but the unbearable heat coursing through his veins. But every second that passed made it worse. His skin felt too tight, his sweatpants suddenly too restrictive, and his cock throbbed in his boxers, demanding attention he couldn’t give it.

Not in front of you. Not when you looked at him like that—so wide-eyed, so innocent, like you had no idea what you’d just done to him.

You shifted closer, your hand grazing his arm as you peered at him in mock concern. “San…?”

His breath came out shaky. His fingers twitched against his thigh. His jaw clenched so tightly it ached.

“Don’t.” His voice was hoarse, strained, like he was barely holding himself together.

You blinked. “Don’t what?”

San exhaled sharply, his grip on his knee tightening. “Don’t look at me like that.”

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “Like what?”

His nostrils flared. His body jerked when you shifted again, your knee brushing against his thigh, and this time—this time—it was too much. His cock twitched violently in his pants, straining against the fabric, and he felt it—the way the pulse of need shot straight through him, leaving him aching.

“Fuck—” he hissed under his breath, squeezing his eyes shut.

You stared at him, watching the way his Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed. The way his fingers dug into his thigh, white-knuckled, as he fought against whatever was happening to him. And then, ever so sweetly, you asked—

“San… what’s wrong?”

His eyes snapped open.

Oh, you were good.

Too fucking good.

San turned his head slowly, fixing you with a look so dark, so desperate, it sent a shiver down your spine. His pupils were completely blown now, his face flushed, his chest rising and falling just a bit too quickly.

And then—his tongue darted out to wet his lips, and fuck, it was almost shy the way he whispered—

“I need you to leave.”

Your brows lifted. “Huh?”

His jaw clenched. “I need you to leave. Now.”

You blinked at him, feigning confusion. “Why? This is my house”

San exhaled hard through his nose, shifting again, trying so desperately not to move his hips—but it was useless. He was already hard. Painfully so. His cock pressed against the fabric of his sweatpants, aching, and every little movement sent a fresh wave of heat crashing through him.

And you—

You sat there, looking at him like you didn’t just wreck him completely.

His fingers flexed against his knee. His tongue flicked out again, wetting his lips. He was holding back—barely—but the cracks were starting to show.

And then, you said it.

Soft, sweet, and utterly devastating.

“…San, do you need help?”

His entire body froze.

Silence. Thick, heavy silence. The only sound was the low hum of the TV, the flickering light casting faint shadows across his face.

San didn’t move. Didn’t breathe.

You watched him carefully, noting the way his shoulders tensed, the way his fingers flexed just slightly.

He turned his head, gaze locking onto yours, dark and unreadable.

“…What did you just say?” His voice was low. Dangerously low.

You tilted your head, feigning innocence. “I asked if you need help. You look really uncomfo—”

San let out a sharp breath, a broken, frustrated laugh leaving his lips as he leaned forward, pressing his elbows to his knees. His hands threaded through his hair, gripping at the strands, his shoulders heaving.

“You—” He exhaled shakily, lifting his head to meet your gaze. “You don’t even know what you’re doing right now, do you?”

You blinked. “What do you mean?”

San let out another laugh, but this one was strained, his teeth sinking into his bottom lip. His legs spread just slightly, enough that you could see the outline of his problem if you were looking.

Which you were.

His voice dropped even lower, rough and needy.

“Baby, if you don’t leave right now…”

A pause. A breath.

And then—

“…I won’t be able to stop myself.”

The room felt unbearably hot, the space between you crackling with something thick, something dangerous. San sat there, legs spread just enough for you to see the bulge in his sweatpants, his fingers gripping his knees so tightly his knuckles were white. His chest rose and fell in uneven breaths, his tongue darting out—again—to wet his lips.

He was trying so hard to keep himself in check.

But you weren’t making it easy for him.

You sat there, all wide-eyed and sweet, your lips barely parted in faux confusion, your body angled ever so slightly toward him. You were playing your part perfectly, pretending to be clueless, pretending you didn’t see the way his cock strained against his sweatpants, thick and aching.

San let out another shaky breath, his fingers flexing, nails digging into the fabric of his pants. His entire body was tense, trembling with restraint, his mind a mess of heat and hunger.

“I’m serious,” he gritted out, voice dangerously low. “You need to go.”

But you didn’t move.

Instead, you shifted closer, your knee brushing against his, and—

Fuck.

San’s entire body jerked, a low, strangled noise catching in his throat. His hands flew to his thighs, gripping them so hard it was almost painful. His lips parted as he sucked in a sharp breath, his head tilting back against the couch, his jaw tight.

Oh.

You bit the inside of your cheek, watching the way his chest heaved, the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. His skin was flushed, a deep, burning red creeping up his neck, his hair slightly damp with sweat.

“…San?” Your voice was soft, so innocent.

His fingers twitched. His nostrils flared.

And then—he turned to you.

Slowly.

Dangerously.

His pupils were completely blown now, his lips slightly swollen from how hard he was biting them. His expression was wrecked—half desperate, half pained—but beneath it all, there was something else.

Something dark.

Something hungry.

“…You’re fucking with me.” His voice was hoarse, dripping with frustration.

You blinked. “I’m not.”

His jaw clenched. “Yes, you are.”

“I really don’t—”

“Baby.”

You froze.

San’s hand suddenly shot out, fingers curling around your wrist—not rough, not forceful, but firm. His grip was warm, burning, his thumb pressing against your pulse point, feeling the way it jumped beneath his touch.

Your breath caught in your throat.

He felt it.

And fuck—his lips curled into something almost dangerous.

“…You like this, don’t you?” His voice was a whisper, low and intense.

You swallowed. “San—”

“You like watching me like this.” His thumb stroked against your wrist, slow and deliberate. “You like seeing me hold myself back. You like seeing me suffer.”

You opened your mouth—to deny it, to keep up the act—but then San’s grip tightened, just slightly, just enough to make you feel it.

Your breath hitched.

San exhaled sharply, his eyes flicking down—to your lips, to your throat, to the way your chest rose and fell in shallow breaths. His own breathing was shaky, his entire body trembling with the effort to keep himself from snapping.

He was holding on by a thread.

And then—

“…You really shouldn’t have let me eat those cookies, baby.”

San was unraveling.

His grip on your wrist tightened for a brief moment before he let go—only to move faster than you could react. One second, he was sitting beside you, barely holding himself together, and the next—

You were on your back.

Your body sank into the couch, your breath punched out of you as San hovered above, his hands gripping your thighs so tightly you could feel the heat of his palms through your shorts. His pupils were blown, his lips parted, his chest heaving as he stared down at you like he was about to devour you whole.

“San—”

“Shh,” he rasped, shaking his head, his thumbs stroking against your skin. “No more talking.”

His voice was ruined—wrecked with frustration, with need, with the unbearable ache that had been building inside him since the moment he ate those damn cookies.

And then—

Rip.

Your breath hitched as your shorts and panties were suddenly yanked down in one go, the cool air hitting your bare skin. Your thighs clenched together on instinct, but San didn’t let you close them—his hands pushed them apart, his fingers digging into your flesh as he spread you open wide for him.

“Fucking finally,” he groaned, almost in relief.

Heat flared through your body, your stomach twisting into a tight knot as you felt his breath—warm and heavy—ghost over your exposed skin.

“S-San—”

“I don’t wanna hear a fucking word,” he cut you off, his voice dropping into something dark, something dangerous. His hands tightened on your thighs, his fingers pressing deep into the flesh. “You’ve been sitting there all fucking innocent, acting like you don’t know what you’re doing to me—”

He let out a sharp, frustrated breath, his head dropping for a second. Then—he lifted it, eyes locking onto yours, dark and unreadable.

“You wanna act clueless?” His voice was quiet, deadly. “Fine. I’ll make you understand.”

And then—

His mouth latched onto you.

A sharp, broken moan ripped out of your throat as his tongue flattened against your pussy, broad and hot and hungry. The first stroke was messy—desperate—his lips parting as he sucked at your clit, his nose pressing against your skin as he buried himself between your legs.

Your entire body jerked at the sudden intensity, your fingers flying to grip the cushions as a choked gasp left your lips. “S-San—!”

But he didn’t let up.

He was starving.

His tongue moved sloppy and wet, flicking against your clit before dragging down, tasting every inch of you. His groan was deep—needy—his hands tight on your thighs as he pushed them further apart, forcing you to take everything he was giving.

“Fuck,” he growled against your skin, his breath hot and ragged. “Taste so good, baby—fuck—”

His tongue delved into you, deep, his lips moving in frantic, desperate kisses against your heat. His nose nudged against your clit with every movement, sending sharp shocks of pleasure racing up your spine.

Your legs trembled, your hands flying to grip his hair, trying to pull him away—but he didn’t budge. If anything—

He groaned, his hands flying up to grab your wrists, pinning them to your stomach.

“Oh, no,” he murmured, voice wrecked, his lips dragging against your soaked skin. “You’re not stopping me.”

You whined, your hips jerking as his tongue circled your clit before sucking it hard into his mouth. Your vision blurred, a broken sob leaving your lips as pleasure shot through you, hot and searing.

“S-San—! Oh, fuck—”

His grip on your wrists tightened. “That’s what I wanna hear,” he groaned, his tongue pressing against your clit in slow, intentional circles. “Not that fake little innocent act. I wanna hear you beg.”

Your chest heaved, your fingers twitching in his grasp. “P-please—”

San moaned—loud, needy, his hips grinding against the couch as if he was getting off on this just as much as you.

“Fuck,” he panted, his lips dragging against your skin, his tongue dipping deep before flicking back up to circle your clit again. “Say it again.”

Your back arched, your legs shaking in his grasp. “San—please—”

He growled, his lips wrapping around your clit, sucking hard, his tongue flicking fast—and your entire body convulsed, a sharp cry ripping from your throat as the pleasure crashed through you, sudden and violent.

But he didn’t stop.

Even as your body twitched, even as your thighs trembled, even as your moans turned into desperate, choked whimpers—he kept going.

Over and over and over.

Rough. Messy. Unrelenting.

Your voice cracked, your hands struggling against his grip. “I-I can’t—!”

San moaned against your skin, his hips rolling again, his cock aching in his pants.

“Oh, baby,” he breathed, his tongue dragging against your heat, devouring you. “You can. And you will.”

San was a fucking menace.

You had no control anymore—your body was his to ruin, his to wreck, his to make completely fall apart beneath him. His hands were firm on your wrists, keeping you pinned to your own stomach, his tongue relentless as he ate you like a man possessed.

His desperation was palpable—in the way his lips sucked at your clit, in the way his tongue flicked fast and sloppy, in the way his hips kept grinding against the couch as if he was getting just as much pleasure from this as you were.

And the worst part?

He was.

“San—fuck—” Your voice was a broken whimper, your head thrown back against the cushions, body jerking with every frantic stroke of his tongue. “T-too much—”

San growled into you, the vibrations shaking through your core. His grip tightened on your wrists, forcing you to stay put as he dove back in, lips wrapping tight around your clit as he sucked hard—

Your vision whited out.

A sharp, guttural cry tore from your throat, your back arching clean off the couch as a second orgasm ripped through you, just as intense as the first.

But San—

San didn’t stop.

“F-fuck, San—!” Your voice was wrecked, your thighs trembling violently as his tongue kept flicking, kept circling, kept fucking devouring you.

He was insatiable.

“Taste so fucking good, baby—” he groaned, his voice wrecked, his mouth messy with you, his lips dragging sloppy kisses over your soaked skin. “Gonna make you cum for me again, yeah? Gonna let me ruin you?”

Your breath came out shaky, a mix of pleasure and overstimulation making your body jerk beneath him.

“C-can’t—” You whined, shaking your head, your fingers twitching in his grip. “San, please—”

San moaned against you, his hips rolling into the couch again, desperate, needy. “Mmm, baby,” he breathed, voice hoarse, lips shining with your slick as he glanced up at you. “You keep saying that, but you’re so fucking wet for me.”

His tongue dragged against your entrance before flicking up again, circling your clit in tight, fast motions. “Your pussy’s begging for me.”

Your body shuddered, a whimper leaving your lips. “S-San—”

His fingers squeezed your wrists, keeping them trapped. His eyes were dark, desperate—his own body trembling with restraint as he devoured you again, his tongue flicking faster, his lips sucking harder.

You were gone.

Pleasure built again, fast and merciless, your thighs shaking as San wrecked you with his mouth.

“That’s it, baby,” he groaned, tongue swirling sloppy and wet. “Cum for me again. I wanna feel it.”

Your body jerked, your voice breaking as your orgasm slammed into you—so hard, so intense it left you gasping for air, your fingers digging into the couch, your hips jerking against his mouth.

But even then—

San still wasn’t done.

His mouth was still messy against you, his lips still sucking, his tongue still fucking you, his own breath ragged, his cock so painfully hard in his sweatpants he could barely think straight.

His head lifted slightly, his tongue flicking against your clit in slow, precise strokes. And then—his voice, hoarse and wrecked.

“One more.”

You whimpered, your entire body shuddering beneath him.

San pressed a soft, wet kiss to your clit, his voice a rough whisper against your skin.

“I know you can take it.”

San was insatiable.

You were wrecked beneath him—your body trembling, your thighs shaking, your breath coming out in sharp, shallow gasps. Your brain was muddled, your skin burning hot, your core aching from the relentless pleasure he’d already given you.

But San?

San wasn’t done.

He refused to be done.

His mouth pressed another slow, wet kiss against your clit, his tongue flicking just enough to send a sharp jolt through your already sensitive body. Your legs twitched, your breath catching in your throat, a desperate whimper slipping past your lips.

San groaned at the sound, his hands tight on your thighs, keeping them spread as he dragged his tongue through your slick folds again—slow this time, teasing, torturing.

“F-fuck—San—” Your voice was broken, your fingers twitching against your stomach, where he still had them pinned.

San hummed against your skin, his lips curving slightly. His breath was warm, heavy with desire, his own body trembling with restraint. His hips twitched again, his cock so achingly hard beneath his sweatpants that you could feel his frustration radiating off of him.

But he wasn’t relieving himself.

No.

His only focus was you.

“I need one more,” he murmured against you, his lips pressing another sloppy kiss to your clit, his tongue flicking just right. “I need it, baby. I need to feel you break for me again.”

You whined, your head turning to the side, your teeth sinking into your bottom lip as your body shuddered from the overstimulation.

“S-San—”

His fingers tightened on your thighs.

“You can take it,” he whispered, voice low and wrecked. “I know you can.”

And then—

His mouth latched onto your clit again, his tongue flicking fast, his lips sucking hard, his desperation coming out in the way he devoured you like a man starving.

Your body jerked, a sharp cry breaking from your lips as another wave of pure pleasure slammed into you—hot, intense, merciless.

San groaned, his hands shaking as he held you down, his tongue flicking, licking, sucking, taking everything he could—

And your body broke.

Your moan was raw, shattered, your legs trembling violently as the pleasure ripped through you one final time—so strong, so overwhelming that your vision blurred, your entire body going limp beneath him.

And finally—finally—San pulled away.

His breath was heavy, his lips wet, his face completely wrecked as he slowly lifted his head, his fingers still tight on your thighs. His pupils were blown, his skin flushed, his entire body trembling with restraint.

He was desperate.

Needy.

His cock was aching, straining against his sweatpants, his hips twitching with every deep breath he took.

And yet—

His eyes stayed on you.

A slow smirk curled his swollen lips.

“…Now,” he murmured, voice rough, low, dripping with satisfaction. “Be a good girl—”

His hands finally released your wrists, and one of them dragged down your body, warm and possessive, until his fingers pressed against your wrecked heat.

And then—

“And open that pretty little mouth for me.”

And he wasn’t waiting any longer.

His fingers curled around your jaw, his grip firm as he tilted your head up—forcing you to look at him. His eyes were dark, blown wide with lust, his lips parted, his breath coming out ragged.

“Open,” he rasped, his voice wrecked from how much he’d devoured you already.

You barely had a second to react before his thumb pushed against your bottom lip, coaxing your mouth open just enough—

And then—

San spit.

A hot, thick glob landed on your tongue, the sensation sending a sharp shock through your system, making your thighs clench, your body shudder beneath him.

San groaned, his grip tightening on your jaw, his cock twitching in his pants at the way you just took it—at the way your tongue glided against your bottom lip as you swallowed.

“Fuck, baby,” he breathed, his voice shaking with restraint. “You’re so good for me.”

His free hand shoved at his sweatpants, yanking them down just enough for his cock to spring free—thick, leaking, his tip an angry red from how long he’d been holding back.

He couldn’t wait anymore.

He needed your mouth.

“Tongue out,” he murmured, voice low, dark with hunger.

You obeyed without hesitation, your tongue flicking out just enough—

And San groaned, his hand wrapping around the base of his cock as he dragged the tip against your tongue, smearing his precum across it.

“Shit—” His breath shuddered, his hips twitching forward, his patience snapping all at once.

And then—

He pushed in.

Your mouth stretched around him, your throat constricting as he bottomed out in one slow, deep thrust, his cock pressing against the back of your throat, forcing a wet, choked gasp from your lips.

San moaned, his grip on your jaw tightening, his head dropping back for a second before his gaze snapped back down to you—watching as your lips stretched around him, your mouth completely full of his cock.

“Fucking—” His voice was wrecked, his hips trembling. “God, your mouth—so fucking perfect—”

And then—

He started to move.

Slow at first—teasing, dragging his cock out just enough before pushing back in, making sure you could feel every inch, every throb, every pulse of him against your tongue.

But then—

His restraint snapped.

His hips snapped forward, hard and desperate, forcing a wet, choked sound from your throat. His fingers dug into your jaw, holding you in place as he fucked into your mouth, deep, rough, his groans growing louder, needier.

“Fuck, baby—fuck—” he panted, his breath ragged, his hips snapping against your lips with each thrust. “Your mouth—so fucking good—so tight—”

Your throat constricted, your eyes watering from the sheer intensity of it—but San didn’t stop.

If anything—

He got rougher.

His pace quickened, his cock dragging against your tongue before slamming back in, his moans turning into needy, desperate growls. Spit dripped down your chin, your lips swollen, your breath coming out sharp through your nose as you tried to keep up with the way he was using your mouth.

And fuck—

He loved it.

“Look at you,” he groaned, his hand fisting your hair now, holding you in place as his cock slid deeper, making you gag around him. “Fucking messy for me. Taking it so good, baby—”

His hips stuttered, his breath hitching, his body tensing as he thrust in deep—

And then—

A low, wrecked moan tore from his throat as his cock pulsed, his cum spilling hot and thick down your throat.

He held you there, deep, making sure you took every drop, his fingers tight in your hair, his breath heavy as he watched you—your eyes teary, your lips puffy, your throat constricting as you swallowed everything he gave you.

San groaned, his entire body shuddering, his cock twitching one last time before he slowly pulled out, watching as a thin strand of spit and cum connected your lips to his tip.

His thumb wiped it away—only to push it back into your mouth, watching as your tongue flicked against the pad of his finger, as you sucked it in.

“Fuck,” he whispered, his voice shaky, his thumb stroking against your lip. “You’re so fucking good for me.”

His breathing was still ragged, his body still trembling—but even through his post-orgasm haze, even as his cock twitched from the sheer sensitivity—

His fingers dragged up your body again, slow, deliberate.

And then—

He smirked.

“Now,” he murmured, his voice low, dangerous.

“We’re not done yet.”

San’s breath was still shaky, his cock twitching against your skin even as he came down from his high—but fuck, it wasn’t enough.

Not even close.

His fingers twitched against your jaw, his thumb dragging over your spit-slicked lips, his eyes blown wide with hunger as he stared down at you. His body was still on fire, the heat curling deep in his gut, his cock already hardening again despite just having emptied himself down your throat.

His entire body ached with need.

He still wanted more.

And more.

And more.

His breath shuddered as his gaze dropped lower, trailing over your wrecked body, your thighs still trembling from the orgasms he’d already given you. His fingers ghosted over your stomach, down to your dripping heat, his jaw clenching at how soaked you still were.

“You’re so fucking ruined already,” he murmured, his voice low, rough, wrecked.

But his fingers pushed in anyway—two, then three, stretching you open again, making you gasp at the sudden intrusion. Your body arched into him, your breath coming out in a sharp, needy whimper, your walls clenching around his fingers as he started thrusting them in deep, slow.

His free hand gripped your thigh, spreading you wide, his lips parted, his eyes wild as he watched his fingers disappear into you, over and over and over again.

And then—

His cock twitched.

San groaned, his patience snapping all over again.

His fingers left you just as fast as they entered—only to be replaced by his cock, sliding between your folds, the tip smearing his precum along your entrance before he pushed in, slow, deep, stretching you all over again.

A sharp, broken moan tore from your lips, your back arching against the couch, your nails digging into the cushions as he bottomed out in one deep, desperate thrust.

San choked on a moan, his arms trembling as he held himself over you, his head dropping forward, his breath shaky against your skin.

“F-fuck,” he groaned, his voice shaking, his hands tightening on your thighs. “You’re—so tight, baby—so fucking wet—”

And then—

He snapped his hips forward.

A sharp cry ripped from your throat as his cock slammed into you, deep and hard, his grip unrelenting as he held you there, forcing you to take every inch, every pulse of him inside you.

And he didn’t stop.

His pace was brutal, his thrusts fast, his body shuddering with pleasure as he pounded into you, his voice breaking into low, needy moans with every sharp snap of his hips.

“Fucking—shit—” San’s voice was wrecked, his head dropping to your shoulder, his hands gripping your hips so tight they were bound to leave bruises. “Feel so fucking good, baby—feel so tight around me—”

Your moans were shattered, your entire body jerking with the force of his thrusts, your mind already melting from how deep he was, from how ruthlessly he was fucking into you.

And fuck—he was losing himself.

His hands suddenly flipped you, pressing your chest into the couch, his weight caging you beneath him as he thrust back in, his moan ragged, wrecked, completely fucked out.

“You wanted this, huh?” he growled against your ear, his hips snapping against your ass, his cock hitting that spot deep inside you over and over and over again. “Wanted me to fuck you like this? Use you like this?”

Your moan came out choked, your fingers digging into the couch, your body completely fucked out beneath him.

San groaned, his teeth sinking into your shoulder, his body shaking as his cock twitched inside you, his thrusts growing sloppy, desperate.

“Gonna cum—” His voice was wrecked, his hands trembling against your skin, his pace quickening, snapping into you harder, deeper— “Fuck, fuck, fuck—”

His hips jerked, his cock pulsing as he spilled inside you, hot and thick, his moan shattered as his body shuddered against yours.

But even then—

Even after he’d emptied himself inside you, even after he’d fucked you to the point of exhaustion—

San didn’t stop.

His cock was still hard. His breath was still shaky.

He was still aching for more.

His arms wrapped around you suddenly, flipping you back onto your back, his lips crashing against yours as his cock thrust back into you—

And he groaned, deep and wrecked, his hands gripping your body, his hips rolling into yours again, his body shuddering from the overstimulation, from the sheer desperation consuming him.

San’s body was burning.

Every inch of him was on fire, his skin too hot, his breath too shaky, his cock still throbbing inside you even after he had already cum so hard his vision had blurred.

But it wasn’t enough.

It would never be enough.

His hands were everywhere—gripping, grasping, trembling as they explored every inch of your wrecked, sensitive body. His fingers dug into your hips, dragging you up against him, his breath shuddering as he felt just how soaked you still were, how your slick was dripping down his thighs, how your body trembled beneath him.

And fuck—he needed more.

His lips crashed against your neck, sucking, biting, devouring as his hands spread your thighs wide, his hips grinding against yours, his cock pulsing inside you.

“Shit—” His voice was wrecked, his grip tightening on your body. “You’re so fucking wet, baby—so messy for me—”

And then—

His fingers slid between your legs, pressing against your clit, rubbing fast, sloppy, his cock still deep inside you, stretching you so perfectly you could barely breathe.

Your body jerked, a sharp, broken moan tearing from your throat as his fingers played with you, as his cock twitched inside you, as his breath came out in needy, desperate little gasps.

“Gimme—gimme another one, baby—” His voice was pleading, desperate, his pace quickening, his touch growing rougher, sloppier. “Just one more—fuck, just—please—”

And then—

Your body snapped.

A sharp cry tore from your lips as your orgasm crashed over you again, your thighs trembling, your vision blurring as you gushed all over him, soaking his thighs, his cock, his stomach—everything.

San choked on a moan, his head dropping against your shoulder, his body shuddering as he felt you squirt all over him, felt how wrecked you were, how completely ruined you were beneath him.

And fuck—

He still wasn’t done.

His hands dragged down your body, his fingers trembling as they gripped your thighs, his lips brushing against your temple as he whispered, shaky, needy—

“Baby, I need—” His voice broke, his breath ragged, his cock twitching inside you. “I need you again—”

His hips snapped forward, deep, his cock dragging against your sensitive walls, his hands grasping, clutching, desperate as he fucked into you again, as if he hadn’t already ruined you.

His voice was pleading, his hands shaking, his lips trailing down your skin as he whispered, begged—

“Just one more, baby—just—just one more—”

His skin was burning, his body shaking, his cock aching—but fuck, he still wasn’t satisfied. His lips were glossy with spit, his thighs soaked from how many times you’d already squirted all over him, his breath coming out in needy, ragged little moans as he panted against your skin.

And you?

You were just as wrecked.

Your body was limp beneath him, your voice hoarse from how many times you’d already screamed his name, your legs trembling as he pushed them apart yet again, refusing to let you close up, refusing to let you hide from him.

His fingers gripped your thighs, spreading you wide, his breath shuddering at the sight of your dripping, swollen cunt, slick and messy from everything he’d already done to you.

And fuck—he still wanted more.

His cock throbbed, his mouth watering as he lowered himself between your legs again, his hands grasping, clutching at your thighs, his lips brushing against your soaked heat as his voice came out shaky, wrecked—

“Baby, I need—” His voice broke, his breath hot against your skin. “I need to taste you again—”

And before you could even process it—

His tongue was on you.

A sharp, choked gasp tore from your lips as his mouth latched onto you, his tongue sliding between your folds, his lips wrapping around your clit as he sucked, hard.

“San—!” Your voice cracked, your fingers jerking into his hair, tugging, pulling—but he didn’t care. He growled against you, his arms tightening around your thighs, locking you in place as he devoured you, as if he was starving, as if he’d die if he didn’t have you.

And fuck—he was so messy about it.

His tongue was sloppy, wet, licking and lapping at your cunt like he couldn’t get enough, like he needed you more than air itself. Spit and slick were everywhere, coating his lips, dripping down his chin, mixing with the wetness already soaking his thighs.

And fuck, he loved it.

His hands dug into your hips, pulling you against his face, his moans vibrating against your heat, his cock twitching between his legs as he grinded against the couch, so fucking needy, so fucking wrecked just from tasting you.

“San—fuck, fuck—” Your breath was ragged, your fingers clutching at the sheets, your body jerking with every sharp flick of his tongue. “You’re so—so messy—”

San groaned, his hips grinding harder against the couch, his hands shaking as he dragged his tongue down, circling your entrance, his voice coming out slurred, wrecked—

“Can’t—can’t help it, baby—” His tongue pushed in, fucking into you, his moan shattering as he felt you clench around him, as he felt your thighs shake, your body trembling beneath his touch.

And then—

“Gonna make you squirt again,” he murmured, his breath shaky, his tongue pulling out just to be replaced by his fingers, two—then three, stretching you wide, fucking into you deep, his mouth still latched onto your clit, sucking, moaning, ruining you all over again.

Your moans turned shattered, your body jerking, your hands gripping his hair so tight it should’ve hurt—but fuck, he loved it.

And then—

You snapped.

A sharp, choked scream ripped from your throat as your orgasm crashed over you, your body jerking, your back arching as you gushed all over his face, soaking his lips, his chin, his throat.

San moaned, deep and wrecked, his hips twitching, his cock aching as he fucked his fingers into you, forcing more out of you, watching as you dripped down his arms, as your thighs shook, as your entire body gave out beneath him.

But even then—

Even after he had licked you clean, even after he had made you cum so hard you could barely breathe—

San still wasn’t done.

His cock was throbbing, his body aching, his hands gripping your thighs as he flipped you over, his voice ragged, wrecked, pleading—

“Just one more, baby—” His breath was shaky, his cock pressing against your entrance, still soaked with your slick, your juices still dripping down his thighs. “Just—just one more—”

And then—

He slammed into you, hard, deep, his moan breaking as his cock dragged against your oversensitive walls, as your body clenched around him, as he lost himself in you all over again.

And fuck—

He was never stopping.

Your limbs were twitching, your skin burning, your mind completely blank from how many times San had already fucked the breath from your lungs. Your thighs were sticky with slick, your body completely boneless beneath him, your voice hoarse from all the screams he’d already pulled from you.

But San?

San was a wreck.

His body was shaking, his chest heaving, his cock still twitching inside you, still aching, still so desperate for more. His fingers clutched at your waist, trembling, his lips dragging against your cheek, his breath hot and shaky, his voice coming out wrecked, pleading—

“Baby, please—” His voice broke, his hands shaking as they gripped you tighter, his lips feathering over your jaw, your ear, your throat—begging.

You whimpered, barely able to move, barely able to breathe, your body too sensitive, too wrecked to even process the words properly.

“San—I can’t—” Your voice was shaky, barely even a whisper, your hands weakly pressing against his chest, trying to stop him, trying to make him listen. “I—I can’t take anymore—”

San whined.

A deep, desperate, completely wrecked little sound, his entire body shuddering, his hands gripping you tighter, his lips pressing against your throat, begging, pleading—

“Baby—please—” His voice was strained, so wrecked that he could barely form words, his body so desperate that he was practically vibrating with need. “I need you—fuck, I need to feel you again—”

His hips jerked, his cock twitching inside you, still so hard, still aching for more, still so needy that it physically hurt.

“Just—just let me, baby—” His voice cracked, his breath hot against your skin, his hands still clutching at you, his body still begging even though he already knew your answer.

And then—

His hips pressed in.

Deep.

Slow.

And you gasped, your body jerking, your thighs trembling as he pushed himself inside you again, his cock stretching your already wrecked, overworked walls, making you feel every inch of him, making you take him whether you could handle it or not.

“San—stop—” Your voice broke, a sharp, shaky gasp leaving your lips as your nails dug into his skin, your body twitching from the overwhelming sensitivity.

He didn’t stop.

He couldn’t.

His breath was shaky, his voice cracking, his body shuddering as he buried himself inside you again, whimpering, his hips rolling, his hands gripping your thighs as he forced you to take him.

And fuck—he was crying.

Tears were stinging his eyes, his moans high, wrecked, his body completely losing control as he fucked into you, desperate, starved, whining with every thrust.

“Baby—fuck, I—I can’t stop—” His voice was strained, shaking, his breath ragged as he buried his face into your neck, his hands trembling as he held onto you, as he kept moving, as he kept fucking you even when you were already gone.

Your body jerked, a sharp, choked cry leaving your lips as another orgasm ripped through you, so strong, so shattering that your vision blurred, your body convulsing, your mind blanking out from how fucking wrecked you were.

And he followed right after.

A sharp, wrecked moan broke from his lips as his hips snapped, as his cock throbbed, as he spilled inside you all over again, so deep, so full, his release mixing with the mess already dripping between your thighs.

His entire body shuddered, his breath gasping, his hands clutching at you like he never wanted to let go.

And even after—

Even when his body was completely spent, when he was too wrecked to even move—

San was still inside you.

Still deep, still full, still holding on like he couldn’t bear to be apart from you.

And his voice?

It was weak, whispered, still shaky from everything he had just done.

But it was real.

It was raw.

“Baby…” A deep, shaky breath left him, his lips brushing against your temple, his arms still wrapped around you, still clutching onto you like you were the only thing keeping him sane.

“I—I love you.”

You didn’t know what to say.

Your heart was pounding, your breath shaky, your body still aching in the best possible way—but your mind was a fucking mess.

San wasn’t supposed to say that.

This wasn’t supposed to be love.

This was supposed to be a one-time thing, a secret indulgence, something you’d both pretend never happened in the morning.

But now—

Now, San was looking at you like you meant something.

Like you weren’t just the girl next door who had accidentally drugged him with aphrodisiac cookies.

Like you weren’t just someone he fucked senseless on the living room couch.

Like you were his.

And the worst part?

You wanted to be, badly.

“San…” Your voice was weak, your fingers shaky as they traced over his jaw, your heart twisting in your chest as you looked at him—really looked at him.

His eyes were red-rimmed, still glassy from how hard he had come, his lips were kiss-swollen, his hair was a mess, sticking to his damp forehead.

And he looked so fucking beautiful.

So wrecked.

So vulnerable.

So in love.

And it fucking terrified you.

Because if you let yourself believe it—

If you let yourself have him—

You didn’t think you’d ever be able to let him go.

“…Say it again.”

San’s breath hitched.

His fingers tightened on your waist, his lips parting slightly, his eyes widening just a fraction—

And then, in a voice so soft, so reverent, so raw it sent a fucking shiver down your spine—

“I love you.”

His breath was still shaky, his body still pressed against yours, his fingers still gripping your waist like he was afraid you’d disappear. His heart was pounding, his lips parted, his eyes locked onto you like you were the only thing keeping him grounded.

You could feel everything.

The heat of his skin, the way his chest rose and fell against yours, the way his cock was still inside you, still keeping you full, still reminding you exactly what just happened between you.

But none of that compared to the way he was looking at you.

Like he was afraid of what you’d say.

Like he already knew he had ruined everything.

Like he was begging for you to fix it.

And fuck—

You wanted to.

But you were terrified.

Because this wasn’t just about sex anymore.

This was real.

"Baby…” His voice was barely a whisper, his fingers trembling as he reached for your cheek, his touch so gentle, so careful—like he was scared he’d break you. “Please… say something.”

You swallowed hard, your throat tight, your mind still spinning from everything—the way he had taken you, the way he had begged for you, the way he had said those words like they had been burning in his chest for so fucking long.

And maybe they had been.

Maybe you had just been too blind to see it.

Your lips parted, a shaky breath leaving them, your heart twisting as you met his gaze—those deep, desperate brown eyes, searching yours for something, anything to hold onto.

Your fingers curled into his hair, your chest tightening, your voice small as you finally, finally whispered—

“…You love me?”

San’s breath hitched.

His grip on your waist tightened, his lips parting, his entire body trembling as he swallowed hard, his voice so wrecked, so raw when he answered—

“I do.”

No hesitation.

No doubt.

Just San, stripped bare in front of you, exposed, vulnerable, completely yours.

And something inside you fucking snapped.

Because he meant it.

Because you had wanted this for so fucking long, wanted him for so fucking long—and now, he was right here, saying the words you never thought you’d hear, giving himself to you completely.

And you couldn’t stop yourself.

You grabbed him, your lips crashing into his, your fingers clutching at his hair, pulling him closer, deeper, letting him feel everything you couldn’t say yet.

He broke apart in your arms.

A shaky, wrecked moan slipped from his throat as he melted into you, his hands gripping you like you were the only thing keeping him alive, his body pressing you deeper into the couch, his kiss so needy, so desperate, so full of love that it made your chest ache.

And when he pulled back, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath hot against your lips, his voice still shaking—

“Say it back.”

Your heart stopped.

San’s fingers tightened on your waist, his breath ragged, his lips brushing against yours as he whispered again, this time more pleading, more wrecked—

“Baby, please… say it back.”

And you could feel it—

The way his hands shook, the way his body tensed, the way his eyes were glossy with something he was trying so fucking hard to hold back—

The way he needed this more than anything.

And fuck—

You did too.

Your fingers brushed over his cheek, your lips trembling, your heart pounding as you finally, finally let the words slip out—

“I love you.”

A sharp, shuddering breath left him, his lips crashing into yours again, his hands everywhere—on your face, your waist, your thighs—like he was memorizing you, like he never wanted to let go.

Like he never would.

And maybe, just maybe—

Neither would you.

[kirilunimimi]

[Chapter 1]

Single Dad!Seonghwa x Fem!Fake Wife!Reader

Chapter Genre: Fluff, Single Dad

Chapter Synopsis: You find a little girl sitting alone in the park and help her find her dad.

Chapter Warnings: None

Chapter Word Count: 1076

Written by: Ash🪐

The summer air was thick with warmth and laughter, the kind that parks in early evening seem to collect. You had just finished your work at your firm and were walking back home when you noticed her— a small girl perched on the far end of a green bench, feet swinging back and forth, one sneaker missing, and a tiny juice box in hand. Her big brown eyes followed the couples walking by, her expression far too composed for someone so small.

You hesitated. Approaching random kids wasn’t usually your thing, but something about her—the puffiness around her eyes, the tightly clutched juice box, the determined pout—made you pause.

“Hey, sweetheart… are you okay?” you asked gently as you approached her.

She looked up, blinking hard like she hadn’t expected anyone to speak to her. “I’m not 'lost' lost,” she declared, chin tipping up. “Maybe just a little bit.”

You tried not to smile. “That sounds like a fixable problem.”

The girl sighed heavily, the way only a very tired kid could. “I don't usually run off, but I was mad 'cause Daddy said I couldn’t have icecream. So I walked away. And now I can’t remember which way the hot dog stand is.”

You crouched down beside the bench. “Did you tell him you were walking away?”

“No,” she admitted, picking at the straw of her juice box. “I thought he’d find me first. But he didn’t. He’s so slow.”

You bit back a laugh. “Well, do you know his name? Or maybe his phone number?”

“Daddy’s name is Seonghwa,” she said, looking at you like her father's name should have been obvious. “But I don’t know his phone number ‘cause it’s too many numbers.”

“Hmm" You nodded " What’s your name?”

“Ara,” she said proudly. “I’m almost six now"

“Nice to meet you, Ara,” you said gently. “Do you want help finding your dad?”

She gave a big, dramatic sigh. “I guess. But I don’t wanna get in trouble.”

“Tell you what,” you said, offering your hand, “if he looks mad, I’ll tell him it was my fault.”

That made her smile. “Okay!"

You picked up her missing sneaker and helped her slide it on, then stood and held out your hand again. Her tiny fingers curled into yours without hesitation.

It didn’t take long— barely ten steps out of the park before a panicked voice cut through the evening air.

“Ara!”

She lit up. “Daddy!”

You turned just in time to see him , A tall man with slightly tousled black hair, worry etched deep into his features, moving through the crowd like the world might crumble if he didn’t find his daughter. When he finally saw her, his shoulders sagged with relief.

She bolted, crashing into him like a rocket. He scooped her up instantly, wrapping her into his chest.

“I told you not to wander off,” he murmured, relief and frustration bleeding into his voice.

“I just wanted icecream,” she mumbled into his shirt.

He sighed and kissed the top of her head. “You scared me.”

You stayed back a little, watching as he ran a hand over her back like he needed to make sure she was real.

Then he turned his eyes on you.

“I’m so sorry,” he said, voice still catching up with his breath. “She was right next to me and then—God—I looked down and she was gone.”

“It’s okay,” you said, holding up your hands. “She wasn’t far. And she handled herself like a champ.”

Ara peeked over his shoulder and waved. “She helped me not be lost.”

He looked between you two and nodded, grateful but still rattled. “Thank you. Seriously.”

“No problem,” you said. “She’s got a strong personality.”

At that, Ara grinned smugly.

“I’m Seonghwa,” the man said, extending his hand. “And this is the part where I say I owe you, don’t I?”

You shook his hand. “No debt necessary. But… maybe you can let her have a little ice cream sometimes.”

Ara squealed. You smiled and gave them a small wave. “Well… I’ll let you guys get back to it.”

The little girl suddenly squirmed in her dad’s arms and leaned towards you. “Wait! What’s your name?”

Surprised, you turned back. “Me? I’m Y/N.”

She beamed. “Y/N! Do you wanna come to my birthday party?”

Seonghwa blinked. “Ara—”

“It’s next Saturday and I’m gonna have cake and a bouncy castle! Daddy said I could invite my friends, you have to come!.”

You blinked, caught completely off guard. “I—uh…”

Seonghwa gave you an apologetic smile, looking slightly embarrassed but also like he was used to this kind of thing.

“It’s sweet of her,” he said, “but really, you don’t have to—”

“I’d love to,” you said, surprising even yourself.

Ara squealed in delight and threw her arms around her dad’s neck again.

"Could you give me your card? or something? So I can invite you to her party" He asks you.

You smiled and gave him your card. He looked down at the small rectangle in his hand, brows lifting slightly.

“You’re a lawyer?”

You nodded. “Family law, mostly.”

He let out a quiet laugh, more of a relieved exhale than anything else. “Well, at least I know Ara wandered off into responsible hands.”

“Very responsible,” you said with mock seriousness. “We almost had a whole conversation about ice cream rights.”

Ara giggled behind her hands and leaned her head against Seonghwa’s shoulder. “She said I’m brave, And that I should get two scoops for being good.” She winked at you.

He pocketed your card carefully, like he didn’t want to lose it. “I’ll share the details with you, if… if you really want to come.”

You gave a soft shrug, already walking backward. “I wouldn’t say yes to just any five-year-old, you know.”

“I’m six next week!” Ara shouted

“Ara’s persuasive,” he said with a shake of his head.

“She’ll make a great lawyer someday.”

He smirked. “God help us all.”

Ara suddenly wriggled in his arms and pointed a stern little finger at you. “You have to come okay? Bye bye, new friend!” she called as he turned to carry her off.

And just like that, you walked away from the park with an unexpected invitation and a strange, warm feeling blooming in your chest.

You told yourself it was just a cute moment.

You had no idea it was the start of something much bigger.

Taglist: @bookishcaptain

[kirilunimimi]

wildfire (cs) | series masterlist

—summary: assistant professor in bioengineering, incredibly attractive, lonely and divorced; that’s how most people describe san. but despite the events that have happened in his life, san has a lot going for himself. he’s a successful, sought out professor due to his brilliant contributions to science at just an early age of 32. he worked hard to get where he was now; head deep into his research, his publications, building his lab and creating a name for himself. everything was good and smooth sailing— until it wasn’t. because when he meets you, a bioengineering grad student interested in rotating in his lab, he finds himself ready to risk all the blood, sweat and tears he put in throughout the years just to keep you close— his need for you spiraling out of control like a wildfire.

—pairing: asst. professor!choi san x grad student!f. reader

—genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, grad school au | fluff, angst, smut

—general warnings: cussing, mature language/implied sexual content, forbidden love kinda thing, age gap (oc is 25 & san is 32), other members in the fic are also aged up, very general/vague descriptions of mice research work!, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, party scenes - additional warnings will be posted for each chapter.

—release: 8/15/24

—table of contents | spotify playlist | moodboard (ty @binniewalrus 🖤)

intro: professor choi

one: rotations

two: warm welcomes

three: a subtle curiosity

four: emergency purposes

five: drunchies

six: me and you

⇢6.5: all he knows

seven: your new TA

⇢7.5: the symposium

eight: cloak & dagger

⇢8.5: starry eyes

nine: pieces to the puzzle

⇢9.5: you should be here

ten: slippery slope

⇢10.5: blurred lines

eleven: the switch up

⇢11.5: yes/no

twelve: teacher’s pet

⇢12.5: love does (not) conquer all

thirteen: love

fourteen: be this way

⇢14.5: in the end

fifteen: your side of the bed

sixteen: a paintbrush on canvas

seventeen: endgame

eighteen: dreams

[kirilunimimi]

Always, Again | C.JH x Reader

SUMMARY | After a vulnerable conversation about intimacy, you and Jongho begin to rediscover each other—emotionally and physically. When distance and routine threaten your connection, a spontaneous lakeside getaway becomes the turning point. Through slow mornings, quiet nights, and deep, healing intimacy, you rebuild trust and affection. What began as tension transforms into something steady and real—a mutual promise to keep choosing each other, not just in love, but in the everyday moments that matter most.

PAIRINGS | Jongho x Fem!Reader

RATING | Mature, 18+, NSFW, MDNI!!!

CONTENT WARNINGS | One Shot, Smut, TON OF SMUT, FLUFF, Teasing, Unprotected Sex (Don't do it), Creampies, Multiple Orgasms, Shower Sex, Office/Work Setting Sex, Public Sex (Kinda), Aftercare, Some Internal Anxiety, Overwhelmed Work, Some Stress, F L U F F. S M U T.

WORD COUNT | 12.7k

AUTHOR NOTE | Yes, Another Jongho Fanfic. :] This one is a bit long but a bunch of smut. :3 a TON of smut. He can't keep his hands or thoughts off of you ;)

•

You and your husband Jongho were out for a late dinner. Normally, you'd be completely drunk by this point, but tonight you'd only had enough to feel a comfortable buzz. Jongho, meanwhile, focused on his food and only took a few small sips—he typically reserved his drinking for when he was home.

The car ride home had been quiet, your earlier conversation still hanging heavy in the air. You and Jongho had somehow drifted into a discussion about your relationship—about the things left unsaid, about boundaries neither of you had dared to push until now.

And then he said it.

“I was wondering… would you be okay with me having sex with you whenever I want? Even if you're not in the mood… or if you're busy?” His voice was calm—too calm. The car rolled to a stop in front of the house, but he didn’t move. Instead, he turned to face you fully.

Your pulse spiked. “What… what is this really about, Jongho?” you asked, your voice barely steady. Heat bloomed across your cheeks, your chest, down to your fingertips. He didn’t answer right away—just blinked, slowly, like he was choosing his next words with care. Or hesitation.

You exhaled, the silence stretching. “Seriously. What are you trying to say?”

“That’s it,” he said plainly, before opening the door and stepping out.

You followed quickly, heart pounding, that tight knot twisting deeper in your stomach. Inside the house, everything felt louder—the quiet hum of the fridge, the soft click of Jongho’s keys hitting the counter, your own breath.

He made his way to the kitchen without missing a beat, poured himself a drink with a steady hand. “Want anything, Y/N?” he asked, voice low, eyes flicking toward you.

You shook your head as you dropped onto the sofa, still reeling. “No, thanks,” you murmured, but your mind was racing—circling back to his words, the question, the implication behind it.

He returned, the drink in his hand barely touched, and stood across from you. The silence between you thrummed with tension. And finally, you spoke.

“I’ll do it… but only on one condition,” you said, your voice sharp with nerves but laced with something else too—something daring.

He shrugged off his coat slowly, deliberately, and you couldn’t help but follow the motion—the slide of fabric, the way his shirt clung to his frame, the unreadable expression carved into his face.

He caught your gaze. “What condition?” he asked, eyes narrowing slightly.

You took a breath and met his eyes, heart pounding. “If I’m not in the mood… you owe me dinner. Every single time. Before or after. No exceptions.”

He stepped closer, towering over you, and leaned in—close enough for you to feel his breath fan across your cheek. His lips curved into a slow smile.

“Deal.”

Jongho’s smile lingered, but it didn’t quite reach his eyes. There was something else there—something thoughtful, almost hesitant. He stood above you for another second before finally sitting down beside you, the cushion dipping slightly under his weight.

Neither of you said anything at first. The air was thick, not with anger or discomfort, but with the weight of honesty that had nowhere else to go.

You glanced over at him. “Was that hard for you to ask?”

He let out a quiet laugh, low and dry. “You have no idea.”

You studied his profile—his jaw tight, eyes forward like he was still trying to figure out what your answer really meant. You reached for the hem of your sleeve, fidgeting.

“It’s not that I don’t trust you,” you said quietly. “It’s just… something about that question—it caught me off guard. Like you were asking for more than just sex.”

“I was,” he said without missing a beat.

That surprised you. Your eyes met his, and this time, he didn’t look away.

“I’m not trying to take something from you,” he continued. “I just want to know that I don’t have to tiptoe around you. That if I want you—if I need you—I don’t have to wait for the stars to align.”

Your throat tightened a little. “So, you’re asking for permission to be selfish sometimes.”

“I’m asking for trust,” he said simply. “Even when it doesn’t make perfect sense.”

You nodded slowly, his words sinking in. It wasn’t just about control, or desire—it was about closeness. Safety. The kind of intimacy that didn’t always look romantic but meant everything.

“Okay,” you said again, more certain this time. “But the dinner rule stays. No skipping it.”

His mouth curved into a real smile this time—quiet, genuine, and full of that rare softness he rarely showed. He reached out and brushed a knuckle gently along your jaw.

“Deal,” he murmured.

You leaned into his touch without meaning to, your body responding to the unspoken understanding between you.

And in that moment—no urgency, no pressure, just the quiet hum of everything unspoken—you felt something settle inside you. A kind of closeness that had nothing to do with proximity.

Just presence.

Jongho’s hand lingered at your jaw, his thumb brushing along your skin like he wasn’t ready to pull away. His gaze softened, searching your face—not for permission, but for understanding.

You tilted your head slightly, letting your eyes close for a brief second, just feeling the warmth of him. When you opened them again, he was still watching you. Still there.

“Why now?” you asked, voice quiet but steady. “Why bring this up tonight?”

He exhaled through his nose, sitting back a little, though his knee still touched yours.

“I think… I needed to know if I could be seen. All of me. Not just the parts of me that are easy to love.”

That answer sat in your chest for a moment, heavy in the best way. You nodded slowly, your fingers tracing the seam of a throw pillow in your lap, grounding yourself.

“You are,” you said. “Even when you’re being a little reckless with your words.”

A soft laugh escaped him, and he leaned his head back against the couch. “Yeah, I know that wasn’t the smoothest way to ask.”

“It really wasn’t,” you smirked, nudging his leg with yours. “But I get it. And I’m still here, aren’t I?”

He looked at you again—really looked this time—and you could feel it, like something unspoken passed between you. Something real.

Jongho shifted closer, his hand moving to rest on your thigh, fingers light but steady. You didn’t flinch. You didn’t need to.

His voice dropped, quiet and serious. “Can I kiss you?”

That question hit differently—because he didn’t assume, didn’t lean in without asking. He waited.

You nodded once, your voice caught somewhere between your heart and throat. “Yeah.”

He leaned in slowly, giving you time to change your mind. And when his lips met yours, it wasn’t rushed or demanding. It was warm. Intentional. Like a promise, not a possession.

Your hand found his wrist as the kiss deepened just slightly, his fingers flexing on your thigh. When you parted, he didn’t pull away completely—just rested his forehead gently against yours.

“Still okay?” he asked.

You nodded, voice a breath. “More than okay.”

And for a moment, everything else fell away—just the two of you, close and honest, finally meeting each other in that in-between space where desire and care blurred into something else entirely.

Jongho’s forehead still rested against yours, and then you felt it—that subtle shift in his energy, the slight smile ghosting his lips.

“Well, I took you out tonight…” he murmured, voice low and warm. “Do you think you’re ready to be in the mood?”

The question wasn’t pushy. It didn’t carry any weight of expectation. Just a quiet invitation wrapped in familiar teasing. His breath tickled your cheek as he leaned back slightly, eyes flicking between yours.

You let out a soft laugh, shaking your head. “Wow. You’re really trying to cash in on that deal already?”

He shrugged, playful but calm, his fingers still resting gently on your leg. “I’m just following the terms. Dinner first. I held up my end.”

Your lips curled at the corners despite yourself. He was ridiculous—but there was something about the way he was looking at you. Patient. Present. Like if you said no, he’d pull back without a word of complaint, but if you said yes… he’d make sure it meant something.

You reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear as you studied him. “Maybe,” you said slowly, “but I don’t think I’m there yet.”

Jongho nodded, no disappointment in his expression. “That’s fine.”

He leaned in again, pressing a kiss to your temple—soft, lingering. Then he stood, stretching slightly, his shirt lifting just enough for your eyes to catch a sliver of skin before he turned toward the kitchen.

“I’m getting some water. Let me know if you want anything else,” he said casually.

You watched him walk away, the weight of his presence still clinging to you. Your body buzzed—not just from desire, but from the kind of intimacy that didn’t rush or demand.

And maybe… maybe you weren’t fully in the mood yet.

But you were close.

---

Later that night, the house was quiet.

The soft hum of the air conditioner filled the silence, along with the occasional creak of floorboards as one of you moved around. You were curled up on the couch, blanket wrapped loosely around your legs, scrolling absently through your phone—not really reading anything, just passing time while your thoughts drifted.

Jongho had disappeared into the bedroom after the kitchen, saying something about changing and giving you space. He hadn’t pushed. He hadn’t hovered. But the look in his eyes before he left still lingered in your mind—calm, but undeniably full of want.

When you finally stood and padded down the hall, the bedroom door was cracked open, soft light spilling out into the dark. You paused, your hand resting on the edge of the door.

Inside, Jongho was sitting at the edge of the bed, head tilted back, one hand resting loosely on his thigh. He looked over when he heard you step in.

“Hey,” he said, voice low, almost cautious. “You okay?”

You nodded, stepping in quietly. “Yeah. Just… thinking.”

He gave a soft hum, like he understood without needing the explanation. You walked over slowly, then sat beside him, close enough that your knees touched.

“You weren’t wrong earlier,” you said after a beat, not quite looking at him. “About needing to be seen. I think I needed that too.”

Jongho turned to face you fully, his eyes softening. “I see you. Even when you don’t say much… I do.”

That did something to you. Your breath caught for a second, and before you could talk yourself out of it, you leaned in and kissed him again.

This time it wasn’t careful. It was intentional. Your hands moved up to his shoulders, and his instinctively slid around your waist, grounding you against him. The kiss deepened slowly, heat curling at the edges of every movement.

You shifted, climbing onto his lap without breaking contact. His hands gripped your hips like he needed to be sure you were really there.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes. “I’m in the mood now,” you whispered.

His breath hitched. His fingers flexed against you. But still, he asked, “You’re sure?”

You nodded, your voice steady this time. “I want this. I want you.”

That was all he needed.

He kissed you again, deeper now, the kind of kiss that carried all the tension from earlier—the uncertainty, the vulnerability, the ache. His hands slid under your shirt, warm against your skin, but still gentle, still asking.

And as you moved together—slowly, deliberately—it wasn’t about claiming or taking. It was about choosing each other. Meeting in that space where desire met care, where you didn’t have to explain or hold back.

Just be.

Your breath mingled with his as the kiss pulled you deeper—slow and aching, full of everything unsaid. Jongho's hands moved up under your shirt again, fingertips brushing the curve of your waist with a reverence that made your chest tighten.

He didn’t rush, even though you felt the tension in his body—the restraint. His touch was firm, but patient. Like he was learning you all over again.

You reached down, tugging your shirt up and over your head in one smooth motion. Jongho’s eyes followed every movement, and when you looked at him—truly looked—there was no trace of dominance, no assumption. Just want. Just care. And a kind of quiet awe, like he couldn’t believe you were right there with him, saying yes with every breath.

His hands slid up your back as he leaned in, lips moving from your mouth to the edge of your jaw, down the side of your neck. Every kiss was slow, almost hesitant at first, until you let out a soft sigh and your fingers tangled in his hair.

That was all the reassurance he needed.

He shifted, gently laying you back against the bed, following your body down. The mattress dipped beneath you, and his weight—solid and familiar—settled over you just enough to feel grounding. His mouth returned to yours, deeper now, hungrier, and you responded with a soft noise in the back of your throat, your legs parting to welcome him between them.

Clothes disappeared piece by piece between kisses and small, murmured words—nothing urgent, just small anchors of intimacy that made the space between you feel sacred. His hands roamed like he was memorizing you, and you let him—touched him in return, feeling his breath catch when your fingers grazed over his ribs, the dip of his waist, the line of his hip.

When he finally pressed into you, it wasn’t rushed—it was slow, deliberate, eyes locked to yours as if he needed to witness every flicker of feeling across your face. You gasped softly, your body arching to meet his, and he stilled, giving you that moment to breathe, to adjust, to feel him there completely.

“You’re okay?” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You nodded, hand resting against his cheek. “Yes. Please don’t stop.”

So he moved—slow and steady at first, building rhythm like a shared breath. It wasn’t about friction. It wasn’t about power. It was about being known, completely, and still being held with care.

Every sound you made pulled him closer. Every whisper of his name made his movements just a little more purposeful. And when the pace deepened—his hips pressing into yours, the warmth pooling low in your belly—it felt like your entire body was answering a question you didn’t even know had been asked.

You came apart with his name on your lips, your hands gripping his back, nails biting just slightly into his skin. He followed not long after, breath ragged, a quiet curse whispered against your collarbone before he stilled above you, trembling slightly from the intensity.

Silence settled between you, not awkward, but full—rich with the weight of everything that just passed between your bodies.

He didn’t move right away. Just rested his forehead against yours again, both of you catching your breath, your heartbeats gradually syncing like they were remembering how to slow down together.

“I’m glad you said yes,” he murmured, his voice barely a breath.

You smiled, fingers brushing over the back of his neck. “So am I.”

---

The morning light filtered in through the curtains, soft and golden, casting faint lines across the sheets. The room was quiet, save for the occasional bird outside and the slow, even sound of Jongho’s breathing beside you.

You blinked your eyes open, body still heavy with sleep and warmth. The blanket had slid low on your hips, the air cool against your skin, but his arm was still draped around your waist—loose, protective, like even in sleep he wasn’t quite ready to let go.

For a moment, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling, heart strangely calm.

There was no rush of panic, no second-guessing. Just the quiet realization that something had shifted last night. Not in a dramatic way, but in the kind that settles deep—like trust being laid down brick by brick, quietly, steadily.

You turned slightly to face him. Jongho was still asleep, his lips parted just barely, hair a little messy from your hands. He looked peaceful. Honest, in a way people only ever look when they’re unguarded.

You smiled faintly, reaching up to trace a finger gently along his brow, then down the side of his face. His eyes fluttered open a moment later.

“Hey,” he rasped, voice low and rough with sleep.

“Hey,” you whispered back.

He shifted closer without thinking, tucking his face into the crook of your neck. His breath was warm against your collarbone. “What time is it?”

You glanced over his shoulder at the clock. “A little after nine.”

“Mm. Still early.”

You didn’t respond right away. Instead, your fingers moved through his hair slowly, like it was the most natural thing in the world. And after a few breaths, you spoke.

“Last night… felt different.”

He pulled back just enough to see your face, eyes still a little unfocused, but attentive.

“Different good?” he asked carefully.

You nodded. “Yeah. Good. Real. I didn’t feel like I had to perform or prove anything. It just… was.”

Jongho reached up, brushing a thumb across your cheek. “That’s how it should be.”

There was a long pause, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just thoughtful.

Then he added, quietly, “You know, I wasn’t sure if you’d still want to be close to me this morning.”

You blinked. “Why?”

“Because I asked for something selfish. Even if I meant it with care.”

You stared at him, then shook your head. “It wasn’t selfish. It was honest. And you gave me room to choose. That’s not selfish—that’s intimacy.”

He exhaled, eyes softening again. “You really see me, don’t you?”

“I do,” you whispered, leaning in to kiss his temple. “Even the hard parts.”

His arms tightened around you just a little, anchoring you to him. “Then I think we’re going to be okay.”

And in that quiet morning light, wrapped up in each other and a stillness that felt anything but empty, you believed him.

Neither of you said much after that. There didn’t need to be words—just the quiet rhythm of breathing, the warmth of skin against skin, and the rare comfort of feeling completely known. You stayed wrapped up in each other for a few more minutes before reluctantly pulling away, the real world already beginning to call you back.

Jongho stretched as you slid out of bed, offering a sleepy grin. “Don’t stay in the shower too long. You’ll make me miss you more than I already do.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, the lingering heat in your chest making it hard to say anything back. So you just tossed a towel at him and made your way to the bathroom.

The water helped clear your head, but it didn’t wash away the echo of last night. You could still feel it—like it lived under your skin now. A memory that wasn’t just about pleasure, but about being seen. Chosen. Held.

By the time you finished getting ready, Jongho was already in the kitchen, fixing himself a quick breakfast. He looked up as you passed, his eyes following you with a softness that wasn’t there the day before.

“I’ll text you later,” he said as you grabbed your keys.

“You better,” you replied, your tone light but full of something deeper.

Then you were out the door, the warmth of the house giving way to the chill of the outside world.

The moment you stepped into work, though, the energy shifted. The fluorescent lights, the low hum of chatter, the ping of notifications and looming tasks—it all felt heavier than usual. You walked in, shoulders a little tense, your mind reluctantly snapping into focus.

You sighed as you reached your desk, setting your bag down with a little more force than you meant to.

Back to reality.

Your phone buzzed in your pocket just as you sat down. You pulled it out, half-expecting an email or some early task waiting—but it was a message from Jongho.

Jongho: I know you're at work, but just wanted to say... last night meant everything. And so do you.

You stared at the screen for a second, lips parting slightly.

That tight feeling in your chest loosened a little.

Maybe the day would still be long. Maybe work would still be draining. But you weren’t going into it alone. Not really.

You started to type back, your fingers moving before your brain could catch up.

You: Meant everything to me too. I’ll be thinking about you.

And you would.

All day.

You stared at the message, the words echoing in your head as you whispered them under your breath.

"Thinking about you while in a meeting. I might be in the mood."

Your lips parted slightly, and you blinked at the screen, heat blooming in your cheeks before you could even stop it. Of course he’d text something like that now, right as you were packing up to leave. You looked around instinctively, making sure no one could see the way your expression had just shifted—or hear the sudden rush of air you quietly exhaled.

You typed back quickly, fingers still tingling:

You: Is that so? Bold of you to start something when I’m still on the clock.

Your phone lit up with his reply before you could even tuck it away.

Jongho: Timing is everything. You said dinner first, right? I was thinking of ordering in… unless you’d rather I cook.

You bit your bottom lip, smile pulling at the corners despite your best efforts. He was doing it again—walking that line between teasing and thoughtful, making you feel wanted in a way that didn’t pressure, just invited.

You grabbed your things and headed for the door, your heart beating a little faster now, the drag of the workday already fading behind you.

You: You cook, I’ll bring dessert. And maybe something else if you're still “in the mood.”

There was no immediate reply, but the typing bubbles started flashing, stopped, then flashed again. You could picture him reading that text—one eyebrow raised, lips twitching into that amused smile you’d seen a thousand times. Except now, it felt different. Closer. Warmer.

Jongho: Deal. But don’t be late. Mood’s already growing.

You stepped out into the evening air, the sky tinted with soft orange and purple, your pulse still tapping quick beneath your skin.

And just like that… you were in the mood too.

You didn’t even bother going home first.

Something about the way Jongho texted you—the timing, the subtle heat tucked behind his words—had shifted your whole trajectory. Instead of your usual routine, you turned your car in the opposite direction, toward the building you’d only been to a few times before. His office.

By the time you pulled into the parking lot, the sun was low in the sky, streaks of deep orange painting the tops of the windows. The building itself was quieting down—people filtering out, some lights off already. But you knew he’d still be upstairs. He always worked late when things got busy.

Your phone buzzed just as you stepped inside.

Jongho: Elevator’s waiting. 6th floor. Come find me.

You rolled your eyes, a small laugh escaping under your breath. The man had a flair for the dramatic, even in texts. Still, your heart thumped a little faster as the elevator doors closed behind you, humming softly on the way up.

When you stepped out onto the sixth floor, the office was mostly dark—just the low glow of ambient light and a few scattered desk lamps. You followed the faint sound of music playing from somewhere deeper inside, a soft instrumental track that echoed through the open space.

And then you saw him.

Jongho stood by the window in his office, shirt sleeves rolled up, jacket draped over the back of his chair. He was nursing a glass of something dark in one hand, phone in the other. He looked up the moment you appeared in the doorway.

His smile was slow and warm. “You came.”

You leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed loosely. “You tempted me.”

He set the glass down and took a few steps toward you, eyes scanning your face like he was memorizing it all over again.

“Wasn’t sure you’d actually show up here. Thought maybe you’d wait until I got home.”

“I figured I’d save you the trouble,” you said softly, stepping inside and closing the door behind you. The sound echoed lightly through the otherwise empty office.

He reached out, his fingers brushing along your wrist before taking your hand gently. “You always do have good timing.”

There was something charged in the quiet, like the stillness before a storm—intense, but unhurried.

“Are we alone up here?” you asked, your voice dipping slightly.

He nodded. “Everyone’s gone. Just us.”

A beat passed. Then another.

You stepped closer, standing in the glow of his desk lamp now, the soft light casting shadows across his face. “So…” you said slowly, “about that mood of yours…”

He smiled, eyes dropping briefly to your lips, then back to your eyes.

“It just got a lot stronger.”

You didn’t say anything right away. Neither did he.

But the silence between you wasn’t empty—it was thick with anticipation, like every breath was a step closer to crossing some invisible line. You watched each other, waiting to see who would move first.

Jongho’s hand was still holding yours, his thumb lazily brushing over your knuckles. It was such a small thing, but it felt intimate, grounding. Like he was saying I see you without needing the words again.

You broke the quiet first, your voice soft but laced with something unmistakable. “So this is where you think about me during your meetings, huh?”

He let out a low chuckle, his gaze never leaving yours. “This is where I try not to think about you during my meetings. Doesn’t always work.”

“Clearly.” You smirked, stepping forward until your bodies were nearly touching. “Sending me that kind of text while I’m trying to finish work? Dangerous move.”

“You liked it.”

You raised an eyebrow, challenging. “You sure about that?”

Instead of answering, he reached up and gently tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear. His fingers lingered at your jaw, tracing the curve of it, then sliding down to your neck, slow and deliberate.

“Your face said everything,” he murmured. “You lit up when you read it. I could practically feel it from here.”

You inhaled, steadying yourself against the way your pulse jumped at his touch.

The air between you shifted—denser now. Like gravity itself had tilted, pulling you together without either of you having to move. His other hand found your waist, resting lightly, as if asking for permission without saying a word.

“I’m still in the mood, by the way,” he added, his voice dipping just above a whisper.

You looked up at him through your lashes. “And what happens if I am too?”

Jongho’s smile curved, slow and sharp, but his eyes stayed soft—grounded. “Then I lock that door,” he said simply, “and take my time showing you just how much I’ve been thinking about you.”

You didn’t respond immediately. Instead, you stepped even closer, so that your chest was brushing his, your voice barely a breath against his skin.

“Then what are you waiting for?”

His jaw tensed just slightly, and without another word, he turned toward the door and clicked the lock into place. The soft click sent a pulse down your spine.

He turned back to you, slower this time, like he was savoring the moment—letting the tension stretch just a little further. Then he walked toward you, purposeful now, and cupped your face with both hands, tilting your head up as his lips hovered just over yours.

“I missed you today,” he murmured.

“You’re about to make up for it,” you whispered back.

And when his mouth finally met yours, it wasn’t rushed—it was deep, full of quiet intensity, all the anticipation from the day melting into a single, breathless moment. His hands slid to your back, pulling you flush against him as the office—cold, professional, quiet—faded completely from your awareness.

Now it was just him. Just you.

And the way everything felt like it was about to unravel in the best possible way.

Jongho's kiss deepened, his hands spreading heat across your back as he pressed you closer, every inch of him saying you’re mine tonight. The air between you was thick now, laced with everything you’d both been holding back all day. Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling at the fabric, needing to feel more of him, needing less space between you.

He groaned softly against your lips when your hands slid under the hem, palms running over the warmth of his skin. You could feel his muscles shift under your touch—tense, coiled with restraint—but he didn’t rush. He let the moment build, slow and deliberate, until your legs brushed the edge of his desk.

You broke the kiss long enough to glance behind you. “Here?”

His eyes didn’t leave yours as he murmured, “Don’t tempt me unless you’re ready.”

“I’m here, aren’t I?”

That was all he needed.

In one smooth motion, Jongho guided you back until you were perched on the edge of the desk, his hands gripping your hips as he stepped between your legs. He kissed you again—rougher this time, more urgent—while his fingers worked at the buttons of your blouse, each one undone with care, not haste. Like he wanted to take you apart piece by piece.

You shrugged out of the fabric, letting it fall beside the stack of reports and office supplies. His jacket soon followed, then his shirt, both landing on the floor with soft thuds.

The contrast of your bare skin against the cold surface of the desk made you shiver, but his body was warm, grounding, as he leaned into you. His lips moved along your neck, your collarbone, teeth grazing lightly before soothing the sting with a kiss.

You gasped softly when his hands slid under your skirt, fingers pressing into your thighs. “Still in the mood?” he asked against your skin.

You tilted your head back, breath shallow. “It’s not even a question anymore.”

He smirked and lifted you just slightly, sliding you further onto the desk before lowering you gently onto your back. Papers scattered, pens rolled to the floor, but neither of you cared.

His fingers teased along the inside of your thigh, slow and deliberate, watching your expression shift with every movement. And when he finally pushed your underwear aside and touched you—truly touched you—you arched off the desk, a breathless sound escaping your lips.

“You’re already so wet,” he murmured, voice rough with want. “Were you thinking about this on the drive over?”

“Maybe,” you breathed, barely able to focus as his fingers worked you open with excruciating care. “You made it really hard not to.”

Jongho leaned down, kissing you again—this time slower, like he was savoring the way your body reacted to every stroke, every shift of his touch. And when he finally slid inside you, it was with a low groan and his forehead pressed to yours, both of you breathless at the sudden, overwhelming closeness.

You clung to him, legs wrapping around his waist as he began to move—steady, deep, building rhythm that made your entire body tighten. The sound of your breath, your skin meeting his, the soft creak of the desk beneath you—it all blended into something rhythmic, heady, almost sacred in its intimacy.

Every thrust sent a new wave crashing through you, each one tethered to the way he held you, looked at you, whispered your name like a vow. And when you finally came undone beneath him, your nails dug into his back and your voice broke around his name.

He followed not long after, burying himself deep inside you with a groan, the kind of release that left him trembling as he collapsed against you, his arms braced on either side to keep from crushing you completely.

For a while, neither of you spoke.

Just the sound of breathing, bodies slowly coming down from the high, skin slick with sweat and limbs tangled together on a desk that had definitely not been designed for this.

Then, finally, Jongho kissed your shoulder and whispered against your skin, “Definitely the best meeting I’ve had in this office.”

You laughed, breathless and dazed. “I’m not even mad about the paperwork we destroyed.”

“I’ll handle it tomorrow,” he said, grinning as he looked at the mess around you. “Worth it.”

He helped you sit up, smoothing your hair back, his hands lingering on your waist like he wasn’t quite ready to let go. And as you sat there—half-dressed, flushed, still catching your breath—you realized something.

It wasn’t just the heat that left you trembling.

It was the way he looked at you now.

Like you were more than a moment. Like you were his choice.

---

The city was quieter by the time you made it back to the apartment.

Jongho had insisted on driving, one hand on the wheel, the other resting over your thigh the entire ride home. Neither of you said much. You didn’t need to. The silence between you wasn’t awkward—it was full, content, still humming with everything you’d just shared.

When you stepped inside, the apartment smelled faintly of the morning’s coffee and Jongho’s cologne that still clung to the air. You slipped off your shoes and stretched, your body sore in the best kind of way.

Jongho set his keys down, then turned to you with a crooked smile. “Hungry?”

You gave a soft laugh. “After that? Absolutely.”

He nodded toward the kitchen. “You sit. I’ll cook.”

“You sure?” you asked, watching him already roll up his sleeves like he had something specific in mind.

“I owe you dinner, remember?” he said with a teasing glint in his eye. “That was the deal.”

You smiled and padded over to the couch, curling up beneath the throw blanket while he moved around the kitchen. The sound of him pulling pans from cabinets, chopping vegetables, humming softly to himself—it was a kind of domestic peace you didn’t realize you needed.

Every now and then, he glanced over at you, eyes soft. And every time, you felt your heart squeeze just a little tighter in your chest.

It wasn’t just the sex. It was everything that followed. The way he cared. The way he listened. The way he moved through a shared space like he belonged there—with you.

Dinner was simple—rice, stir-fried veggies, a fried egg on top, and a little sauce drizzled just the way you liked it. He placed the bowl in front of you and sat beside you with his own, legs brushing yours under the coffee table.

“Not bad for an after-hours meal,” you said after the first bite, savoring the warmth.

He smiled, watching you eat more than he touched his own. “You always make that face when you like something.”

“What face?”

He mimicked it—eyes half-lidded, exaggerated sigh—and you burst into laughter, nearly choking on your next bite.

“Okay, rude,” you said, swatting at him playfully.

“Rude but accurate,” he grinned, leaning in to kiss your cheek. “You’re cute when you’re happy.”

The words landed in your chest and stayed there, warm and lingering.

Before you could respond, he stole your fork and scooped up the last bit of rice from your bowl. “Say ‘ah.’”

Your face turned pink as you narrowed your eyes at him, but you leaned in anyway, taking the bite as he watched with way too much satisfaction. “You’re ridiculous,” you mumbled around your food.

“And you love it,” he said smugly, brushing a thumb over the corner of your mouth to wipe away a grain of rice.

You chewed and shook your head fondly. “I should take a shower.”

“Why don’t I join you?” he said instantly, that familiar smirk tugging at his lips.

You gave him a look and rolled your eyes. “The last few times you joined me in the shower ended with me needing another shower.”

He just laughed as you stood, patting his shoulder on your way to the sink. “I regret nothing.”

You started washing the dishes while he hovered nearby, not helping, just watching you with a sleepy kind of affection that made your stomach flutter more than it should’ve. Once you finished and wiped your hands, you turned toward the bedroom to grab some clothes.

You’d barely opened the drawer when you felt arms wrap around your waist from behind. Jongho pulled you back gently, resting his chin on your shoulder.

“I promise,” he murmured into your skin, “I won’t do anything in the shower.”

You arched a brow. “That’s a bold promise.”

“I just want to keep you company,” he said, nuzzling his nose into the crook of your neck. “I swear.”

You turned your head slightly, just enough to catch his expression. His eyes were soft, not scheming this time—just sincere, maybe a little sleepy, and entirely too endearing.

“Fine,” you said with a sigh, grabbing a towel and your clothes. “But if you so much as look at me funny in there, I’m kicking you out.”

“No funny business,” he said, grinning. “Scout’s honor.”

You scoffed, heading toward the bathroom with him trailing after you like a shadow. “You’ve never been a scout.”

“I was for five minutes once,” he said proudly. “Got kicked out for trying to light a fire indoors.”

You snorted, turning on the water and stepping inside as steam began to fill the space. He followed, true to his word—for now—keeping a polite distance even as his eyes occasionally wandered.

And as the water ran down your bodies and the quiet sounds of your breathing filled the small space, there was a kind of comfort there. A rhythm. The kind of moment that wasn’t about desire or teasing, but about simply being—together, close, and safe.

Still, as you rinsed your hair and turned to grab your towel, Jongho leaned in, eyes glinting.

“You know,” he murmured, voice barely above the sound of the water, “technically... you haven’t kicked me out yet.”

You paused.

And then sighed.

“This is why I always end up needing two showers.”

He laughed, wrapping his arms around you once more, pressing a kiss to your wet shoulder as the water poured down. “But you never really complain.”

And the truth was—you didn’t.

Not when it was him.

You turned to face him fully, water slipping down the curves of your body, and met his eyes—already darker, the shift subtle but unmistakable. That quiet heat you’d thought might be settled for the night was rising again, slow and steady like the water sliding down your spine.

"I guess I can't have a break with you," you sighed, wrapping your arms around his neck with an exasperated smile.

Before you could even blink, Jongho’s hands were on your thighs, lifting you effortlessly as your back pressed up against the cool glass of the shower door. The temperature contrast made you gasp, but his body was there, grounding you, holding you like you weighed nothing.

“We are having a break,” he smirked, his lips brushing your cheek, then trailing to your jaw. “A really... refreshing one.”

Your breath hitched as you tilted your head, granting him more access, feeling his mouth move along the side of your neck—slow, deliberate. He wasn’t teasing now. He was tasting.

“You said no funny business,” you murmured, though your legs had already instinctively wrapped around his waist, your fingers curling tighter at the nape of his neck.

“This isn’t funny,” he whispered against your skin. “I’m dead serious.”

He rocked into you gently, not quite giving in—but close enough to make your breath stutter. The way he held you—firm, controlled, yet reverent—sent a wave of heat rolling through your already sensitive body.

“Jongho—”

He pulled back just enough to look you in the eye, his expression half-mischief, half-need. “Tell me to stop,” he said, voice low, rough around the edges. “Right now, and I will.”

You stared at him, your heart pounding, water dripping between your bodies like a soft metronome.

But you didn’t want him to stop.

Not when he was looking at you like that. Not when your body was already aching for more of him.

Instead of answering with words, you leaned in, pressing your mouth to his with a slow, heated kiss that left no room for doubt. His grip on you tightened instantly, a quiet groan rumbling deep in his chest.

That was the answer he’d been waiting for.

He shifted you slightly, adjusting his hold, and began moving against you again—this time more deliberate, more focused, the space between your bodies filled with friction and breathless tension. Each roll of his hips sent sparks up your spine, and your back arched, pressing further into the door, into him.

The steam around you thickened, but you didn’t feel the heat of the water anymore. Only his touch. His mouth. The sound of your name on his lips, raw and full of want.

What started as a joke turned into something else entirely.

Something slow.

Something electric.

Something only the two of you could make feel like both fire and home, all at once.

Jongho's mouth moved hungrily against yours, his breath hot and ragged between kisses as he pressed you harder into the glass. Your fingers threaded through his wet hair, tugging gently as your hips rolled instinctively with his, chasing friction you both already craved.

His grip under your thighs tightened, grounding you as he shifted again, positioning himself with practiced ease. You could feel the weight of him between your legs, hard and ready—his restraint slipping more with each second, but still holding back, just barely.

Your foreheads touched, breaths mingling in the thick steam, and he looked at you like he needed to memorize this version of you—flushed, soaked, trembling, completely his.

“You still sure?” he asked, voice husky, reverent.

You didn’t hesitate.

“Take me.”

The last thread of control in him snapped.

He adjusted his stance and pushed into you with one deep, smooth thrust, your back arching against the glass as he filled you completely. The stretch, the depth—it made you gasp out his name, your hands clawing at his shoulders as your entire body lit up from the inside.

“Fuck,” he groaned, head dropping to your neck. “You feel—so good.”

His hips started to move, slow at first, almost teasing despite how desperate he clearly was. Each thrust rocked you gently against the shower door, water cascading over your bodies, mixing with the heat of your breath, your moans, the soft slap of skin meeting skin.

He held you like you were something precious, even now—one hand gripping under your thigh, the other trailing up your back, fingers splaying across your shoulder blades like he wanted to touch all of you.

And you clung to him just as tightly, nails biting into his damp skin, your body moving with his as he built a rhythm that was deep and steady and so intimate.

You buried your face into his neck, your voice muffled and breathless. “Jongho—faster.”

He obeyed instantly, pace increasing just enough to make your thighs tighten around his waist, your moans turning into soft, broken sounds with every thrust. The tension coiled low in your belly, rising fast, sharp and overwhelming in the best way.

“Look at me,” he whispered, his voice cracking with want.

You pulled back just enough to meet his eyes—and the look in them nearly unraveled you. It wasn’t just lust. It was something deeper. Like he couldn’t believe he got to have you like this. Love, raw and unfiltered, behind the heat.

Your release hit you suddenly, your entire body clenching around him as you cried out his name, head tipping back, mouth parted in a silent gasp as everything inside you pulsed.

Jongho held you through it, fucking you through every wave until your legs were shaking, his own breath hitching as he lost himself in you.

He groaned your name against your neck, thrusting deeper, rougher, and then finally stilled—buried in you to the hilt as he came hard, his whole body shuddering as he spilled inside you, arms locking around your waist to keep you from slipping.

For a long moment, neither of you moved.

Just the sound of water, your breathing, your hearts pounding together.

Jongho rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed, still inside you, still holding you like he never wanted to let go.

Eventually, he smiled—soft, dazed. “So… that break went well.”

You let out a breathless laugh, forehead tipping to his. “You’re insufferable.”

“Yeah, but you love me anyway,” he whispered, kissing you one last time, slow and deep.

And you did.

Every bit of him.

Even like this—naked, soaked, and holding you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered.

Because right now… you were.

Eventually, the water ran lukewarm, and Jongho leaned forward to press a gentle kiss to your shoulder—no longer hungry, no longer teasing. Just there. Soft. Present.

You both stayed tangled for a few more moments, your bodies still catching up with your heartbeats, before he slowly let you down, his hands steadying you as your feet touched the shower floor. Your legs felt like they might give out, but he didn’t go far—he stood with you, close, letting you lean on him while you steadied yourself.

He reached past you for a towel, wrapping it gently around your body before grabbing one for himself. He ruffled his hair a little, the ends sticking up in every direction, and you couldn’t help but smile at how boyish he looked now—damp, flushed, and half-drunk on affection.

“You, okay?” he asked, voice quieter now, a different kind of tender.

You nodded, glancing up at him as you clutched the towel closer. “More than okay.”

He kissed your forehead in response, then tugged you by the hand toward the bedroom. The lights were low, the covers still warm from earlier, and the only sound was the faint hum of the city beyond your window.

You both dropped the towels without much ceremony, pulling on just enough to be comfortable—his soft cotton tee and your favorite sleep shorts—and slid beneath the blankets. You curled into his side naturally, your head resting on his chest as his arm wrapped around your shoulders, holding you close like he didn’t want the night to end.

“I don’t think I’ll ever get tired of this,” he murmured, pressing his lips to your damp hair.

“This?” you asked sleepily.

“This… feeling. Coming down from everything and still getting to hold you like this after.”

Your eyes fluttered shut as you snuggled closer, your hand resting over his heart. “It’s the best part.”

He smiled against your skin. “Yeah. It is.”

You laid there for a while, letting the silence stretch—his fingers tracing idle circles on your arm, your breathing syncing again. There was no rush now. No tension. Just comfort. The kind that comes after being known, touched, seen.

“You think we’ll always be like this?” you asked quietly, not really expecting an answer—just voicing the thought as sleep tugged at the edges of your mind.

Jongho didn’t hesitate. “If I have anything to say about it? Yeah. We will.”

You didn’t reply. You didn’t need to.

You just smiled softly against his chest, let your fingers find his, and drifted off in the safety of his arms—wrapped in the kind of warmth no shower, no heat, no flame could ever match.

Just him.

Just you.

Just this.

---

Morning came gently.

The soft gray light of dawn crept in through the blinds, casting quiet shadows across the room. The world outside was beginning to stir—but inside, everything was still. Still, and warm.

You blinked your eyes open slowly; the weight of sleep still heavy on your body. Jongho’s arm was slung lazily over your waist, his chest pressed to your back, breath steady and slow against the curve of your neck. His body molded perfectly to yours, like even in sleep, he couldn’t stand to be far away.

You didn’t move—not at first. Just let yourself lie there in the silence, your fingers lightly brushing over his forearm. You could feel the subtle rise and fall of his breathing. The warmth of him. The way his fingertips unconsciously flexed against your side, like even now, he was holding on.

He stirred a little, burying his face into your shoulder with a sleepy groan. “Morning already?”

“Unfortunately,” you whispered, voice still husky with sleep.

He made a low noise in protest and pulled you in tighter. “Let’s call in sick. Just stay here. Just us.”

You smiled; eyes still closed. “You say that every time we wake up like this.”

“And I mean it every time,” he murmured, lips brushing your skin. “You feel too good to leave.”

You turned slightly in his arms to face him, your hands finding the soft space between his chest and shoulder. His eyes were half-lidded, hair a wild mess, and he looked at you like you were still a dream.

“You’re staring,” you teased, tracing a line over his collarbone.

“Can you blame me?”

You leaned in and kissed the corner of his mouth—soft, lingering, and sweet. “I’ll make coffee if you make breakfast.”

He groaned again, dramatically this time. “Why do I feel like I’m getting the harder deal?”

“Because I know you’ll do it anyway,” you grinned, slipping out of bed with a stretch. You padded to the kitchen in his oversized shirt, still smelling faintly of him, and started the coffee while Jongho shuffled in a minute later, yawning like he hadn’t just spent the night wrecking you against a shower door.

While he cracked eggs into a pan and started humming to some quiet tune in his head, you leaned against the counter, watching him with a quiet fondness that filled your chest.

It wasn’t the sex.

It wasn’t even just the comfort.

It was this.

The quiet mornings. The easy laughter. The casual intimacy of making breakfast side by side in the kind of silence that feels like home.

And when he turned to you with two plates, hair still sticking up and eyes still sleepy, you thought:

Yeah. I could do forever like this.

“Call in,” he said suddenly, eyes soft but insistent.

You blinked. “What?”

“Call in sick,” he repeated. “Let’s go somewhere. Just us.”

You stared at him for a long moment. The idea was so unlike your usual routines—both of you always a little too responsible, a little too tethered to your obligations. But today? You saw something in his eyes you hadn’t seen in weeks.

Peace.

Hope.

Something that said: We’re okay now. Let’s make it count.

So you nodded. “Only if you do it too.”

He smirked. “Already texted my boss. Told him I need time to breathe.”

Within the hour, bags were packed with too many snacks, not enough clothing options, and one playlist that made you both laugh and groan at the nostalgia. Jongho drove with one hand on the wheel and the other occasionally brushing your thigh. The windows were down. Music pouring through. Wind in your hair. And for the first time in weeks, maybe months, you both felt like you could breathe.

The road led you to a small lakeside town—quiet, unbothered by tourists this time of year. You found a rustic little Airbnb cabin with a wraparound porch and string lights that twinkled like magic when the sun dipped low.

You tossed your bags onto the bed, already barefoot and wandering through the place like you were meant to be there.

“This is perfect,” you said, peeking out at the still lake just beyond the trees.

Jongho wrapped his arms around you from behind, resting his chin on your shoulder. “You’re perfect.”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

That afternoon passed in quiet joy—grocery shopping in a sleepy town, cooking side by side in the tiny kitchen, sipping wine on the porch while the sun slipped behind the trees. Jongho pulled a blanket over both of you, pulling you into his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“I like us like this,” you whispered, your voice barely carrying over the soft chirp of crickets outside the open window.

“Me too,” Jongho replied, his fingers gently trailing along the inside of your wrist as if memorizing you again. “No noise. No pressure. Just you.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips against your temple—a touch that said I’m here, not just in body, but fully, heart and soul.

Later that night, wrapped in the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp and the scent of pinewood lingering in the air, you lay together beneath a tangle of sheets. The world beyond the cabin walls faded into quiet. There were no deadlines, no unspoken frustrations or missed moments. Just the hush between breaths, the heat of shared skin, the feeling of being chosen again.

Jongho's hand slipped beneath the hem of your shirt, fingers tracing the curve of your waist, not with hunger, but reverence. You watched him as he hovered above you, his gaze sweeping across your face like he didn’t want to miss a single expression. No teasing, no smirking—just quiet devotion in his eyes.

His lips met yours—slow, warm, unhurried.

It wasn't rushed.

It wasn't about release.

It was about remembering.

How your breath hitched when his fingers ghosted over your ribs. How his body curved instinctively into yours. How he whispered your name like it held meaning deeper than language.

Your fingers curled against his back as he moved within you—slow, reverent, like every motion was a question he already knew the answer to. His breath stuttered against your lips with every thrust, his body syncing with yours in a rhythm that felt more like a heartbeat than anything else.

There was nothing rushed here.

Only the hush of shared breath.

Only the weight of his body pressed to yours—not heavy, but grounding.

Only the way your eyes stayed locked, even as your bodies moved, like the most important thing was not the pleasure, but the closeness. The knowing.

Jongho kissed you again, deeper this time, and you felt it in every part of you—the apology, the devotion, the wordless I’m still yours whispered between mouths and moans. His hands framed your face, thumbs brushing your cheeks, anchoring you in the moment like he didn’t want either of you to forget this—this return, this softness, this love.

“I’ve missed this,” he breathed into your skin. “Not just this—you. The way you feel. The way you look at me.”

You didn’t need to say anything. The way your body arched into his, the way your hands gripped his arms, said it all. You missed this too. Missed him. Missed what it felt like to be touched like this—like you were still magic in someone’s hands.

“Jongho...” You let out a shaky moan letting your body melt underneath him. He looked deeply into your eyes not wanting to let you go.

You felt your release build slowly, not a climb but a gentle swell—waves gathering just beneath your skin. You whispered his name and he heard it like a prayer, like a promise, his pace shifting just slightly, more focused now, more sure.

Your body trembled beneath him as pleasure bloomed, slow and consuming, your head tilting back, lips parted in a quiet gasp. He followed right after, stuttering his breath against your throat, his whole body tensing, pressing deeper one final time before unraveling with you.

And then everything stilled.

You were left tangled together, chest to chest, legs still wrapped around him. His breath was warm against your collarbone, his hands smoothing over your sides like he needed to reassure himself you were still here.

“I love you,” he said again, voice raw and quiet.

You turned your head, pressing a soft kiss to his damp hair. “I never stopped loving you.”

You stayed there like that—hearts slowing, breath settling, wrapped in the kind of silence that only comes after two people strip themselves down to nothing but truth.

And as the night deepened outside the cabin walls, inside, something mended.

Something healed.

Not all at once—but enough.

Enough to begin again.

---

The soft rustle of sheets and the early chirp of birds outside the window stirred you from sleep.

Your body ached in that delicious, satisfied way—reminders of the night before blooming in every muscle. The cabin was quiet, wrapped in the kind of stillness that only existed in places far from the noise of the real world. And beside you, Jongho was still asleep—barely.

He lay on his stomach, one arm stretched across your waist like some kind of sleepy claim. His hair was a mess, his face pressed into the pillow, and a faint snore rumbled from him every few breaths.

You shifted slightly, stretching under the covers, and that small movement had him groaning low and half-consciously pulling you closer.

“You’re awake,” you whispered.

“No, I’m dead,” he mumbled into the pillow.

You grinned. “Wow. Even in the afterlife you’re clingy.”

That got you a lazy arm flopped entirely over your chest, pinning you down.

“You loved it last night,” he mumbled with a crooked smile, eyes still closed.

You laughed, flicking the back of his head. “You’re impossible.”

He cracked one eye open and peeked up at you. “Impossible, but irresistible.”

“Debatable.”

“Is it?” he asked, finally rolling over and stretching like a cat. “Because if I remember correctly… someone was moaning my name like I was their favorite dessert.”

Your face flushed immediately. “Okay, we don’t have to do a play-by-play.”

Jongho grinned, reaching out to poke your side. “I think we do. For posterity.”

You squeaked and tried to wriggle away, but he was already climbing on top of you, pinning your wrists with a ridiculous grin.

“You’re so annoying in the morning,” you said, trying to sound stern despite the way you were biting back laughter.

He leaned in close, nose brushing yours. “And yet… you let me sleep in your bed.”

You narrowed your eyes. “You bribed me with a fireplace, a lake, and your soft sleepy eyes.”

“My charm,” he whispered dramatically, “is undefeated.”

You finally broke, laughing loud and open as he flopped beside you again, wrapping his arms around your waist and burying his face into your neck. You tangled your fingers in his hair, holding him there, breathing him in.

Eventually, he murmured against your skin, “Let’s make pancakes. But the lazy way.”

“What’s the lazy way?”

“We make the batter, you do all the flipping, and I offer moral support while eating chocolate chips straight from the bag.”

You snorted. “Sounds like a scam.”

“Sounds like a partnership.”

You rolled your eyes, but when he pulled away with that sleepy, boyish grin and laced your fingers with his, you let him tug you out of bed.

Because mornings like this—where the teasing came easy, where the air felt light and love was woven into the smallest gestures—were proof that you weren’t just healing.

You were happy.

And maybe, just maybe, that was the best part of all.

---

The sun was already climbing high by late morning, spilling golden light through the trees and warming the weathered wood of the porch. After breakfast—and a mess of flour, chocolate chips, and a few pancake casualties—you and Jongho stood barefoot outside, sipping orange juice and squinting toward the lake.

The surface was calm, the light shimmering across it like glass.

“We should swim,” you said, leaning against the railing.

Jongho looked over at you, one brow raised. “Now?”

You smirked. “Scared?”

He scoffed, setting his glass down. “Please. I’m just trying to decide how dramatic I want my entrance to be.”

“Try not to slip and die.”

He gave you a fake look of betrayal. “Wow. No faith in me at all.”

You just grinned and walked back inside to grab your swimsuit. A few minutes later, you met him at the edge of the little dock, both of you barefoot, towels slung over your shoulders, the sun warming your skin.

Jongho looked at the water, then at you. “On three?”

You nodded. “One… two—”

But you jumped on two, cannonballing into the water with a splash that sent tiny waves lapping at the dock.

He laughed, shaking his head as you resurfaced. “Unbelievable. Cheater.”

“Should’ve seen it coming,” you said, brushing wet hair from your face.

He dove in after you, smooth and clean, his body cutting through the water like he belonged there. When he popped up beside you, he slicked his hair back, eyes glinting under the sun.

You splashed him.

His jaw dropped. “Oh, it’s like that?”

You laughed and turned to swim away, but he was already chasing you, catching your ankle and pulling you back with a yelp. You shrieked, laughing too hard to care as he tugged you close, his arms wrapping around your waist in the water.

“Say mercy,” he teased, breathless.

“Never,” you giggled, trying half-heartedly to wriggle free.

He leaned in until your noses almost touched, both of you panting, grinning, water dripping between you.

“I could hold you here all day,” he said softly, the playfulness in his voice fading into something warmer.

Your smile faltered—but in a good way. In that way your heart did when it realized, over and over, that you were loved like this. Chosen like this.

“Maybe I’ll let you,” you whispered.

He pulled you closer, your legs floating beside his in the water, your bodies barely moving as the lake lapped softly around you. And when he kissed you—sunlight on your skin, water clinging to your lashes—it was slow and sweet and full of that rare, quiet joy that only came when nothing else in the world was asking for your attention.

Just him.

Just you.

Just the stillness between waves.

You eventually drifted toward the dock, limbs relaxed and skin glistening under the sun. Jongho pulled himself up first, offering you a hand with a dramatic flourish.

“Milady,�� he said, completely soaked and grinning.

You rolled your eyes but took it anyway, letting him help you up, water dripping from both of you as you stepped onto the dock, toes curling against the sun-warmed wood. You flopped onto one of the towels, your body sighing with relief at the warmth beneath you.

Jongho joined you, spreading out beside you with a groan. “This might be my new favorite kind of tired.”

“Better than work stress?”

He laughed softly, eyes closing as he stretched his arms above his head. “By a thousand percent.”

You turned on your side to face him, propping your head on your hand. The sun cast golden shadows across his face, and little droplets clung to his lashes and jaw. He looked younger like this. Softer. Happier.

You reached over, gently brushing a few strands of damp hair away from his forehead.

He peeked one eye open. “What?”

“Nothing,” you said. “Just… soaking you in.”

“Should I flex for you?”

You snorted. “Ruin the moment and I’m pushing you back in.”

He laughed but didn’t move, just reached out and found your hand, fingers intertwining with yours. The breeze swept over you both, cool against your drying skin. The birds nearby chirped lazily, and somewhere across the lake, a dragonfly skimmed the surface.

You both lay there, drying in the sun, fingers linked, the silence comfortable and close.

“I wish we could freeze this,” you murmured after a while. “This exact feeling.”

Jongho squeezed your hand gently. “We kind of are.”

You turned your head.

“Moments like this,” he said, “they stay. Even when the world speeds back up. We just have to remember how to slow down and come back to them.”

You didn’t say anything right away—just let his words settle somewhere deep. Then you scooted closer, resting your head against his chest. He shifted to wrap an arm around you, holding you steady as your breathing matched again.

No rush.

No plans.

Just a lazy dock, drying skin, and the kind of quiet that only ever belonged to people who truly saw each other.

And for a while, that was everything you needed.

---

The sun dipped low behind the trees, casting the lake in hues of soft gold and amber. After a light dinner—nothing fancy, just grilled veggies, some wine, and more laughter than necessary—you and Jongho made your way back to the fire pit beside the cabin.

He carried a blanket under one arm and a half-full bottle of wine in the other. You followed barefoot, your hair still slightly damp from the lake, sweater slipping off one shoulder as the night air turned cool.

He set everything down, crouched to arrange the kindling, and with a few practiced movements, coaxed a flame to life. It started as a flicker, then grew into a warm, steady fire—crackling softly, casting dancing shadows across the wooden porch and your legs curled beneath you.

Jongho settled beside you on the outdoor bench, tucking the blanket around both your shoulders. The warmth of the fire and his body beside you made everything else disappear. No notifications. No obligations. Just the quiet pop of firewood and the sound of the wind in the trees.

He handed you your glass, his pinky brushing yours. “To choosing this.”

You clinked your glass to his. “To us, coming back to us.”

The wine was sweet on your tongue, but it was the moment that really tasted good—ripe with comfort, full of something steady and deep.

You leaned into his side, head resting against his shoulder. He rested his cheek on your hair.

For a long time, you didn’t speak.

Not because there was nothing to say—but because everything that needed to be said was already there. In the way his fingers absentmindedly traced slow, lazy lines on your thigh. In the way your body curved toward him naturally, like it belonged there. In the way your breaths synced with the rhythm of the flames.

After a while, Jongho spoke, voice low and thoughtful. “You know… I’ve been thinking.”

“Dangerous,” you teased, your voice a sleepy murmur.

He chuckled, nudging you with his shoulder. “I’m serious. About… us. About how easy it is to drift. And how lucky we are that we didn’t.”

You sat up slightly, turning to face him.

“You were never far,” you said gently. “We just… stopped reaching for a while.”

His gaze lingered on you, firelight flickering in his eyes. “But we’re reaching now.”

You nodded. “And holding on.”

He reached up, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “I don’t ever want to stop.”

“Then don’t.”

You felt his head rest against your shoulder, a soft exhale brushing your collarbone as he settled into the chair in front of the fire. The flames cast a gentle glow across his features—highlighting the curve of his jaw, the tired peace in his eyes, the faintest trace of a smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Without a word, you shifted.

He opened his eyes as you moved to straddle his lap, your legs settling on either side of him, knees tucked into the cushions. His hands instinctively came to your waist, warm and steady, thumbs brushing over your sides like they belonged there.

You hovered above him just slightly, your hands resting on his shoulders as you looked down at him. He tilted his head up, watching you with that lazy, knowing smirk—the one that always said I’ve got you.

“Is this your idea of fireside cuddling?” he teased, voice low and thick with affection.

“It’s a very effective version,” you murmured, your fingers tracing lazy lines across the back of his neck.

He hummed, his grip on your waist tightening ever so slightly. “You keep looking at me like that, and I’m gonna forget all about how peaceful this evening was supposed to be.”

You smiled, leaning in until your noses almost touched, your forehead resting lightly against his.

“Maybe that’s the point,” you whispered.

His smirk faltered, softening into something deeper—something that lived in his chest, not just his mouth.

“You’re dangerous when you’re like this,” he murmured, sliding one hand up your back, fingers splaying between your shoulder blades.

You tilted your head, brushing your lips over his jaw. “When I’m like what?”

“When you’re calm… and close… and looking at me like I’m something you already decided to keep.”

Your lips curved. “That’s because I did.”

Jongho leaned in then, kissing you slow and full—like he had all the time in the world. No rush, no pressure, just the heat between your bodies and the fire crackling beside you.

You deepened the kiss, your hands tangling in his hair as you shifted just enough to feel him respond beneath you—his body stirring, his breath hitching. Still, he didn’t push. Didn’t rush. He just held you tighter, kissing you like you were the only thing that had ever steadied him.

You pulled back slightly, both of you breathless.

“Still want to keep the night peaceful?” you asked, voice teasing, a little husky.

Jongho looked up at you, eyes dark with affection and something quieter. “Only if I get to keep you like this.”

Your smile softened as your fingers traced his cheek. “Then we’re already exactly where we’re supposed to be.”

And you stayed there—wrapped in firelight, in each other, in the space where love didn’t have to prove itself anymore.

It just was.

Jongho’s fingers flexed gently on your waist, grounding you in place as he looked up at you—your faces lit softly by the glow of the fire. The silence between you was charged now, humming with want and affection, neither one outweighing the other.

You leaned in again, slower this time, your lips brushing his like a question he’d already answered.

The kiss deepened gradually, your mouths molding to each other in a rhythm that was patient and familiar. Jongho’s hands slid beneath the hem of your sweater, fingers skimming up your back, sending a slow shiver rippling down your spine. You arched slightly into his touch, your hands threading through his hair, tugging just enough to make him groan quietly against your mouth.

“You feel so good like this,” he murmured, voice rough, reverent.

Your hips rolled instinctively against him, slow and steady, and you felt the tension build between your bodies—warm, alive, and pulling you closer with every movement.

“You’re sure?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours—checking in, always.

You nodded, forehead resting against his. “Completely.”

That was all he needed.

Jongho stood, lifting you with him in one smooth motion, your legs instinctively wrapping around his waist. He carried you inside the cabin with ease, kissing you between steps, like he couldn’t bear the distance even for a second.

Inside, the room was dim except for the golden flicker of the fire behind you, casting shadows against the wooden walls. He laid you down on the rug in front of the hearth, the warmth of the flames kissing your skin as he hovered above you.

His hands were unhurried as he helped you out of your sweater, his lips following the path of every inch he uncovered—shoulder, collarbone, the curve of your chest. His touch was reverent, like he was worshipping you with each kiss, each brush of his fingers.

You tugged his shirt off in return, your hands roaming the expanse of his back, your lips trailing along the line of his jaw and down his throat. The heat between you built slowly, like an ember being coaxed into flame.

When he slid into you, it was with a gasp shared between your mouths, your bodies fitting together with practiced ease. He moved slow, deep, his hands cupping your face, your waist—holding you like you were something precious, not fragile.

You wrapped yourself around him, matching his rhythm, your moans soft and breathless, spoken into the hollow of his throat. The fire cracked beside you, painting golden light over your tangled limbs, your flushed skin, the way your eyes locked on his.

It was slow and deep and present—a rediscovery, a claiming, a soft surrender to everything you’d both been holding back for too long.

Your release came in quiet waves, your body trembling beneath his as you whispered his name like something sacred. He followed moments later, his forehead pressed to yours, voice breaking around a low groan as he poured himself into you, both of you shivering with the weight of it.

And then—stillness.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you close instantly, your legs still tangled, your heart racing under his palm as it rested on your chest.

Neither of you spoke for a long moment.

Just breathing. Just holding.

The fire crackled quietly beside you, its warmth soft against your bare skin, your body still tingling in the aftermath of everything—emotion, closeness, release.

Eventually, Jongho shifted, pressing his lips to your temple with the gentlest of kisses. “You feel like home.”

You smiled, eyes fluttering closed, your cheek brushing against his chest. “So do you.”

A few beats passed, and then you felt his arms tighten around you, like he didn’t want even a sliver of space between you.

“I’m glad you accepted this deal with me,” he murmured, voice low, full of affection.

You let out a soft, sleepy laugh. “You mean the ‘dinner for whenever-you-want-me’ contract?”

“That one.” He grinned, the edge of his teeth brushing your shoulder. “Still think I got the better end of it.”

“I don’t know,” you teased. “I’ve been eating well and getting all the extra attention.”

He hummed thoughtfully. “Okay, maybe we’re both winning.”

You turned your head just enough to meet his gaze, and what you saw there wasn’t mischief anymore—it was soft, sure, full of something weightier. Something that felt like forever, said in silence.

His hand found yours, fingers weaving between yours again like muscle memory.

“Do you ever think about what this looks like… long-term?” he asked, his voice almost shy.

You studied him for a second, the firelight dancing across his face, making him look golden and real and completely yours.

“I do,” you whispered. “More than I let myself admit.”

Jongho brushed his nose against yours, his voice a little steadier now. “I think about waking up next to you every morning. About building something together that feels like this… all the time.”

“Even when it’s hard?” you asked.

“Especially then,” he said. “Because I want to keep choosing you. Even on the days it’s not easy.”

You leaned in and kissed him—slow, deep, and full of everything you didn’t have to say out loud.

When you pulled back, your forehead stayed pressed to his.

“Then let’s keep choosing this,” you whispered. “Keep choosing us.”

And in the quiet flicker of firelight, tangled together on that worn cabin rug, the future didn’t feel like a question anymore.

It felt like a promise.

And in that quiet, exhausted, love-drenched stillness… nothing else mattered.

•

A/N: Sorry if there wasn't much depth in the smut :'3 I am with family today and I was wanting to finish writing this LMFAO...

[kirilunimimi]

wonderland | cs (part 1)

summary: being the daughter of a biker gang leader in new york city certainly came with its advantages. you were strong, hardworking, and determined. anything to be the best, right? but you wanted more, something that pushed you to break away. little did you know that crossing paths with choi san and his men one fateful night would be your answer. and suddenly, life had never been worse, but never better at the same time.

pairing: choi san x fem!reader rating/genre: 18+ MDNI | yandere, angst, fluff, eventual smut word count: 10.5k warning/tags: yandere, organized crime, inspired by sons of anarchy, obsession, violence, somewhat toxic relationship, slow and fast burn at the same time (i can’t describe it), reader is innocent, angst, playful banter between san and reader, lots of fluff, pet names, i think that is it but please let me know if i missed anything (i’m new at this), i hope you enjoy reading! <3

disclaimer: all members of Ateez are faces and name claims for this story. this is entirely a work of fiction and by no means is meant to be a projection, judgment, or representation of real-life people. any scenarios or representations of the people and places mentioned in works are not representative of real life scenarios.

chapter one, down the rabbit hole (next →)

All your life, you had been somewhat lonely. Lonely in the sense that you never had a best friend, a group of people to call your inner circle. It had always been challenging, particularly because of the environment in which your school produced. Children more obsessed with status and reputation than being kind, wanting the most followers and being the absolute prettiest. Cross them, and you’ll feel their wrath. No one was safe, not even the people were as thick as thieves. Those were the ones who had the sharpest knives, ready to stab anyone with no remorse.

You had tried fitting in with that crowd, but it never worked. They didn’t want you, you would never be them. And it hurt, the rejection stung like salt on a wound. But you managed it, you ignored the gnawing feeling of never being good enough that consumed your mind. It became easier overtime, but that didn’t mean it haunted you everywhere you went.

The friends you had were sweet, but overtime you began to realize how much more mature you were than them. You were smarter, wiser, braver — something they lacked. It wasn’t their fault, per say, it was just who they were. As they grew older, they would eventually realize how immature they actually were. But some people don’t, and you believed they would never learn or grow.

Despite having them, you longed for a best friend. Someone to call your own. Your friends (while very kind) had their own person, that person they could turn to in times of need and would tell anything to. And it was never you, it would never be you. But, like you always did, you managed it. You managed every negative feeling and pretended that it never existed. It was the only way for you to persist.

With a heavy heart, you continued on with your life. Most weekends were spent cooped up in your bedroom, watching television or reading a book. No friends to hang out with, no romantic partner. It was lonely, and you often wondered if you were being punished. Punished for something you did in a past life, or for something minuscule you did when you were a child. It broke your heart, hardened it to be skeptical of anyone who spoke to you.

Deep down, you knew your people were out there. You had to believe it, even if most days felt like it would never come. You were young and had plenty of time to find them. Everything would fall into place accordingly, it was only a matter of when.

You were better off than most people, you knew that. Oftentimes, it was hard to remember the good things in life when you were focused on the bad. You had a tight knit family who would do anything for you. Though it never felt that way, considering they cared more for your older brother then they did for you. But you knew they would come to the rescue if you were in danger. With their line of work, they would do anything to keep you safe.

The Sons of Anarchy were one of the most famous biker gangs in all of New York City. Your father was the leader, your great-grandfather being the one to found it all back in the mid-1950s. It was your entire life. Rumors circulated on the work they did; mostly with illegal firearms and drugs, as well as money laundering. In all honesty, you had no idea what went on behind the scenes. You never asked, nor did your parents ever want to tell you what the work involved. It was a mutual understanding, somewhat. 

The work your parents did allowed you to live a comfortable life. Not many people could say that and it was something you would be eternally grateful for. That being said, it often made you feel like your issues weren’t that big of a deal. You were blessed with a wonderful life, a job that kept you busy, a roof over your head, food on your plate. What did you have to feel sad about? Being lonely? You had people, even if it was just family. So why be sad?

It was something that helped remind you of who you were, what you had. And while the feeling of loneliness never left you, you just had to push through. It would go away eventually, even if it felt like time was running out and you would never find your people.

The air was cold when you left the tennis courts. Tennis was your favorite sport since you were little, and you were pretty damn good at it, too. It got you a full ride to university and through your graduate program, becoming captain by your junior year. It was a lifestyle, though everyone laughed at you for saying that. But it was, it consumed your very being. The only thing that made you feel sane. 

The adult league you joined held practices every week, but was small and those people were preoccupied with other things. It didn’t matter, as long as you could make your tennis matches somewhat thrilling, it was all you wanted. If you couldn’t have a group of friends or a partner, then tennis would have to do.

Despite it being early March and still cold, it was exactly what you needed after being cooped up in a hot gym for two hours. That, and the rush of being in New York City, was truly the best feeling in the world. It brought you peace and helped you realize that life probably wasn’t so bad afterall (and then it would wear off the next day and you would be sad all over again).

Your phone buzzed in your pocket as you walked near the subway station. Rummaging through your bag, you were able to pull it out and answer it before the line went dead. “Hello?”

“Hi sweetheart,” your dad answered. “How was tennis?”

“It was good! I beat everyone out, like I always do. Next week we start preparing for our matches, so I’m excited for that. How was your day?” You told him genuinely. Though he probably didn’t care much, you liked to update your family on what you do just so you have an excuse to talk about it.

“That’s my best girl, always going for the gold. If anyone gives you a hard time, we’ll set ‘em straight,” he joked and you let out a quiet laugh. “Hey listen, do you think you could head to the grocery store before you come home? I need a couple things for dinner that I forgot to get earlier.”

You nodded your head, though he couldn’t see it. “Yeah, sure. Of course, it’s right on the way home. Just text me what you need.”

A few exchanged words and a family of rats running on the street later, your conversation had ended. Phone calls with your father were typically short, as there wasn’t much needed to be discussed between you two. You didn’t mind, you actually enjoyed them quite a lot. It was simple but meaningful.

The street you normally took to the grocery store was blocked off, most likely for construction. Sighing, you made a left and crossed the street. The alternative route wasn’t bad per say, it just took longer to get to the store, which was aggravating. Especially when you were tired and wanted to get home. Nonetheless, you braved through the streets of New York like you always did.

Growing up in the city, you were taught from a young age to mind your business. Mind your business and never make eye contact with anyone. It was the golden rule, basically. And you completely forgot about it when you saw four people standing in the middle of an alley, one of them bleeding out on the ground.

Two men went to kick the wounded one in a harsh manner, watching as he cried out in pain. It wasn’t until you looked up and saw the lone one step into the light that you realized you were in terrible danger.

Choi San, a man who you were forbidden from speaking to and one of the most influential people in New York City.

There was a long standing rivalry between both of your families, for reasons you never understood. All you knew was that the Choi’s were evil and could not be trusted. They were the serpents among sheep, ready to bite anyone who disagreed with them. Luckily, you never had to interact with him, only at important gatherings every once in a while. But it had been years since you’d seen him, especially this close.

San was handsome, there was no doubt about that. His hair looked different, more slicked back than before. He got older, of course, but he just looked more cold, more angry. You couldn’t explain it, but something had shifted. It was working in his favor, though. 

He looked up from the man and made eye contact with you, a smirk slowly rising on his face. You walked back in fear and accidentally stepped on an empty beer can, which caused the other men to look up. One had vibrant yellow and orange hair, while the other was long and black. Smirks appeared on their faces when they saw you, too.

“Well, well, well. Look who we have here,” the one with vibrant hair spoke, saying your name as he spoke. “The one and only! Shouldn’t you be heading home at this hour, pretty? Or would you rather come spend alone time with me, we can do some special things together.”

The other one laughed while the man coughed out in pain. San said nothing, which was both a surprise and not a surprise to you. You figured he would make a snide comment like the vibrant one or shoot you on the spot. In truth, you had no idea what to say. Nothing would make this situation better, and you did not want to find out what San and his men were capable of.

Another golden rule your parents taught you was that if you were ever in a dangerous situation, no matter what, you try to run. And once you saw the man beginning to meet his death and San raise his hand, you sprinted as quickly as you could.

Years of tennis helped you be a fast runner, so escaping them would be no problem. Surely they couldn’t be faster than you, no one was. They could get close, but could never outrun you. You now understood why your coaches made you and your teammates do sprints all the time. It really helps, especially when you’re being chased by three of the most powerful, evil men in the entire city. 

You couldn’t feel their presence behind you, but you did not stop. You continued until you saw a subway stop not that far in the distance. Without a second thought, you sprinted towards it, not caring if it would take you longer to get home. Those next few moments felt like a total blur, between running for your life and going straight into the subway with no hesitation and right when the doors were about to shut. Thank God for the older woman and her dog who demanded she be let on. 

The train was quiet as it left the station. You placed your hands over your face in utter relief. What happened back there? Why was San watching his henchman beat up an innocent man? Why didn’t he hurt you immediately? Would you come home to your home destroyed and your family badly injured? The questions ran endlessly through your mind.

Whatever that was, it wasn’t good. For you or the man who was bleeding out. Surely something would come of this, it just had to, knowing who your family was. San must have records of you, it would not be a surprise if he found you and had you killed for just witnessing his crimes. The only matter was when this would occur. You wanted to be prepared for anything, any attack he wanted to strike.

You debated on telling your family what happened, who you saw. Perhaps they could offer you protection or call a meeting to see what this was about. At the same time, however, you did not want to cause panic. You did not want your family to get involved and start something that was blown out of proportion. You did not want to risk their safety, either. It might be better to wait and see if anything were to come of this, it honestly might not. If things got really serious or scary, you would tell your parents immediately. That seemed to be the right idea for this situation.

But whatever that was back there, something was wrong. Something is still wrong. What did Choi San have to hide that was so dangerous to the outside world? And were you now a pawn in this deadly game, or would you be left alone for good? Either way, you were completely screwed, and had no idea how you would manage to save yourself from this labyrinth that was tied to your last name.

──────────────────────

Days had passed since the incident. No word, no cryptical phone calls, no nothing. You had begun to think you imagined it, that it was all an illusion. But it was as clear as day. The events played out in your mind endlessly. The wounded man, the two henchmen beating him to a pulp, San arising from the shadows. You knew what you saw, there was no way that wasn’t real. Perhaps it wasn’t as big of a deal as you thought. If it was, San would have done something by now.

There was nothing, and you hoped it would stay that way. Contrary to popular belief, you weren’t a snitch. You found no reason to tell people of what was happening with others unprovoked (unless it could kill them, then of course you would step in). You always wanted to do the right thing, but that didn’t mean you had to tell someone when they were doing something “bad.” It wasn’t your concern, nor what happened with San. All of this would be swept under the rug and into the back of your memory. 

The office had been busy all day. Meetings, assignments, they all just came crashing down on you at once. It was manageable, but not fun. The days in-office weren’t terrible, but you much rather be at home, where you could work in peace. It was the afternoon now, and hopefully things would start to wind down in an hour or so. Even if they didn’t, you would make them. You’ve come to notice that at a certain point in the day, you just start to zone out and push everything to the next day. It was a good way to end the work day and get yourself more motivated for the following day.

As you typed out some notes from your marketing strategy meeting earlier, one of the secretaries had quietly walked into your workspace. No one ever heard her walk in, so it was always a surprise when she called your name while working. You nearly jumped a mile. “My God, I’m sorry,” you gasped and then laughed. Thankfully, she joined in and understood you. “You just startled me!”

“I am so sorry, my boss says I need to get better at speaking up when I enter a room,” she laughed. “I won’t keep you, but I just got handed this letter. The person who dropped you off insisted I give it to you right away. I’m surprised they even came in when they could just leave it at the security desk. Anyways, this is for you, and I will let you continue working. Sorry again!”

“No worries, Anna. Thank you! I appreciate it,” you began, examining the note. A sense of worry and fear  arose in your stomach. “Just out of curiosity, did you get a good look at who dropped it off?”

She shook her head. “No, it was an older gentleman. Kinda looked like he could be a bodyguard or something. He was really fast and I just got a call from a client demanding to reschedule a meeting. I can look back on the security camera and show you if you want?”

“That’s okay, I just wanted to see if I knew them or not. No worries. Thank you again,” you reassured the woman. She had enough on her plate as it is, you honestly didn’t expect her to go and try to find video footage. It wasn’t that big of a deal (at least, you hoped it wasn’t). 

Anna smiled and apologized once more, then headed back to her desk. Out of nowhere, two of your co-workers slowly rose from their chairs and peered over your desk. They eyed the paper closely and were very intrigued. “Ooh, a mysterious note. Who’s it from?” Peter, one of your co-workers, asked curiously.

“I don’t know, I just got it,” you answered as you examined the envelope. It was all gray, with hints of blue subtly mixed in. 

“Feels very formal. I mean, the person could have just emailed or texted you. But a handwritten note? At your job? Crazy,” Beom-soo, the other co-worker, commented. “You should probably open it now, it seems very important.”

You raised an eyebrow, an amused smile on your face. “Do you mean that, or do you just want to know what it says because you’re nosy?”

“Both. We hate coming into the office, it’s so boring. But your note just made things a million times better. We have to know!” Peter was the one to speak. “Is it a threat? Is it a love letter? Is it an ad for a product? It could be a bunch of different things.”

“A threatening love letter. A product in the form of a love letter. No, a love letter about a product that is posed as a threat!” Beom-soo rambled on and Peter eagerly agreed with him. You had to admit, the comedic timing of these two was hilarious. 

To break up the conversation, you shook your head and hands in front of them to get their attention. “It is not a love letter, nor is it a product ad or a threat. Honestly, it’s probably a thank you card for the fruit basket I sent… a family friend. She has specific people to run her errands, including dropping off thank you notes.”

Peter furrowed his eyebrows. “Then why doesn’t she just send it to your house?”

“Because she only knows where I work, she must’ve thrown away the slip with my address on it. She does that a lot,” you explained. 

That part was true, but it was mainly because she didn’t want certain people tracking where she sent stuff too. All you knew was that she did close work with your mom and the Sons of Anarchy, so it made sense why she went the extra mile to send it to your job as opposed to your family’s home.

Hesitantly, you opened the envelope. Inside was a message, with a clear globe on the front of it, the word Veridian right in the center of it. Your heart fell to your stomach once you recognized the logo and who was behind the message. How could you not see this coming from a mile away?

It was so obvious. You honestly felt so stupid for not seeing it sooner. It made perfect sense, you just figured his henchman would kidnap you in a random alleyway or break into your home. It seemed like something San would do; at least, that’s what you assumed he would do. A letter? Completely out of left field.

The anticipation started to annoy you. Without thinking too much of it, you ripped it open. Inside was a message, which was also very obvious. Thankfully, it wasn’t a small bomb or a piece of a dead animal. You could never know with a man like San. The words themselves were simple and straightforward.

Meet me for dinner tomorrow at 7. I’ll send a car to pick you up. —C.S.

You stared at it for what felt like an eternity. That was not what you expected. Dinner? Tomorrow night? There’s no way you could go to that. How did you know it wasn’t a trap, a trap to kidnap and kill you? Or worse, lure you in while he hurts your family? San was a dangerous man, from what your parents said. He was capable of anything and you couldn’t risk being stupid. 

Another part of you, however, was intrigued to see what he had to say. It would be nice to get a good dinner, you loved food and hadn’t been out in a while. Even if it was a horrible experience, at least you had an excuse to get takeout on your way home. 

But the question that lingered in your mind was why. Why was he doing this? Well, seeing him and his henchman beat up a bloody man in an alley was obvious. He didn’t want the word getting out, so he probably staged this dinner to threaten you into silence. Whether that was money or threatening to hurt your family, he wanted you to know that what you saw could not get out. 

You were snapped out of your thoughts when Beom-soo leaned over your desk and examined the note. “Wait, Veridian Industries? That’s, like, one of the biggest companies in the city. And the wealthiest, too. Why are they contacting you through a letter?”

“Is it for a job? Because, if I were you, I would take it. I love our company, but it’s Veridian Industries. That would be like turning down a million dollars,” Peter asked. As he looked at it closer, he shook his head. “I mean, it could be a job. I mean, dinner at 7? What else could that be about?”

“You have no idea,” you answered, though you wanted to tell them what it was really for. I saw him and his goons basically murder someone in an alley. And now I think he wants to murder me. So yeah, not a job opportunity. Though I heard Veridian has great benefits.

It was silent for a moment, until Beom-soo stared at the note longer and noticed something. “Wait, who is CS? Like CS Lewis?”

“I don’t think CS Lewis works at Veridian and would write a letter to a random woman asking to meet for dinner,” Peter commented, which made you laugh. 

“Wait a minute,” Beom-soo said. He sat back at his desk and began to type on his computer. The two of you waited while he did whatever he was doing. You suspected he was looking up who wrote you the letter, and you wouldn’t be surprised if he found out it was— “Choi San sent you that letter?!”

You let out another laugh, nodding your head. “Uh yeah, I guess he did. I really don’t know why, I don’t exactly know him. Probably just a welcome back thing, since our families are kind of acquainted.”

“Woah! He just became the CEO of the company. The youngest it’s ever had,” Peter told you as he read Beom-soo’s screen. “This article says that his dad stepped down and wanted him to take on the position. San was the best fit and will do a perfect job managing Veridian. Damn, that’s impressive.”

The information intrigued you. It made sense as to why he had come back to town. He had been overseas for quite some time, for reasons unknown to you and the general public. Returning to run the company at its home base was the most realistic option. Still, being the youngest CEO Veridian ever has was interesting. You didn’t question his leadership abilities, you couldn’t ever be a CEO, it was just odd. Well, odd to you. Perhaps it was normal in the business world.

“You have to go see him. I mean, how could you not?” Beom-soo said. “Even if it’s just a simple networking thing, which it totally isn’t, it’s a great opportunity! He could be a great business deal for our company. You never know.”

“Yeah, and he’s really attractive, too. And he’s probably going to pay for dinner, so I say why not,” Peter added. “You really don’t have anything to lose.”

They had good reasons, and although it would be a good idea to go, they didn’t have the full story. You know why he wants to meet with you and it isn’t good. It’s not a risk you were willing to take. 

However, your family did have connections in the city. They would come to your aide in a second, all you had to do was send a text or call, and someone would be at your side in minutes. So it wouldn’t necessarily be a terrible idea if you went to dinner with San. People would come to save you if things went south, you wouldn’t be alone. Plus, you had free will, so if you wanted to leave early, you could. San couldn’t keep you hostage in the restaurant (he totally could, but you honestly hoped he wouldn’t. There really wasn’t a reason to).

Still unsure with your decision, you turned to the duo. “Are we sure Veridian isn’t, like, a giant scam? Like they don’t screw people over and are legitimate?” 

Both of them shook their heads. “No, I don’t think so. My cousin works there and she loves it, even the bad parts. Definitely not a scam,” Beom-soo explained.

“I heard they sever people,” Peter blurted out randomly.

You and Beom-soo turned your heads in utter confusion. You couldn’t help but roll your eyes. “They do not sever people, Peter. That’s not physically possible.”

“Yeah, and wouldn’t they have laws regulating that? And wouldn’t there be people protesting in the streets everyday about it?” Beom-soo added.

Peter only shrugged his shoulders. “I don’t know, I was just saying something that my uncle told me. It makes sense, we don’t really know what they do over there. Who’s to say they aren’t planning to start severing people?”

Beom-soo placed his hands on his face and sighed. “I’m not doing this,” he began, then proceeded to say your name. “Go to the freakin’ dinner. This guy is very… cute, I’ll leave it at that. But if he’s sending you a letter at your job asking to meet for dinner, do it. You never know if you don’t try. I’m still kind of confused as to how he was able to get this here, but I’m not going to question it. Go to dinner, and if it sucks, then you know.”

“I have this as my current place of employment on my LinkedIn. Plus, he has connections too, and probably asked where he could find me,” you explained. After taking a deep breath in, you nodded your head. “All right, I am going to do it. I’m going to have dinner with Choi San. Feels weird to say, but why not. If it sucks, then I know not to do it again.”

“That’s the spirit!” Peter exclaimed. “I’m really happy for you. You’ll have to tell us about it the next time we’re in office.”

“Yeah, and ask if he’ll give us an exclusive tour of Veridian. It seems awesome!” Beom-soo added.

“I’ll try,” you laughed. “Thank you for your help, I appreciate it. Truly.”

“Anytime!” Peter said, Beom-soo agreeing.

The three of you had to continue working, but your eyes kept drifting to the letter. An uneasy feeling was in your stomach. You were worried, as anyone would be if you saw a man nearly murder a man in an alley and he invited you out to dinner. But it was also exciting. You really had no idea what you were getting yourself into, or if it was the right decision.

Your parents never spoke to you about their business, what went on their day-to-day. They just told you who to stay clear of, including Choi San and his family. They weren’t good people and did a lot of terrible things. It had been ingrained in your head for a while, hence why you sprinted away from him once you recognized who he was. Of course, you wanted to be conscious of this when meeting with him, but you wanted to know why he reached out. To see what he really wanted. 

A part of you knew you were falling into a dangerous game by going to this dinner. However, the other part wanted you to be this game, to challenge yourself and see who you were at your core.

──────────────────────

Your stomach was in knots. The entire day, your nerves have been at an all-time high. It made sense, you were meeting San for dinner tonight and you weren’t sure what would happen. While you hoped you were in way over your head, you had to be careful. San was capable of many things and could easily put you and your family in danger. Who knows what could happen tonight.

The day felt so slow, you had begun to count down the hours until you could go home and get ready. And it felt neverending, like time slowed down. Thankfully, you were able to leave work a little early and have time for yourself. Even then, you weren’t able to calm your anxiety.

You wondered how San was able to find where you lived. But of course, he was Choi San, and had multiple connections in his network. It wasn’t hard for him to find your address and send a car. Still, the ability to do that amazed you. 

Since this has never happened to you, you didn’t know what to do. As awkwardly as ever, you decided to wait in the lobby of your apartment complex. Your parents and brother were out at a meeting, so you just texted them to let them know of your plans. They probably wouldn’t interrogate you too much, assuming it was with an old friend who was visiting the city. You just hoped the driver wouldn’t make you wait too long.

And right at six forty-five, a sleek black car pulled up to the entrance. It was very nice, nicer than any car you or your family ever owned. A gentleman came out and walked up to you, opening the back door. “Your ride, Miss,” he spoke, saying your full name to confirm it was you.

Taken back, you nodded your head. “Yeah, yeah that’s me. Wow! This is really fancy. Thank you,” you told the driver and took a seat. It amazed you how many features there were, from the music options to the TV and movie options. You knew San and his family were rich, but you had no idea that was what it could look like. You didn’t even want to know what his house looked like (or houses).

The New York City traffic made the drive a bit longer, but you loved it. You yourself could never drive in the city, you were too worried of getting in an accident or driving on the wrong side of the road. But you always loved looking at the cars and taxis, all going different places. It amazed you how people could drive amongst the chaos, going to a variety of places in the city. Everyone had a different story of why they were there and how they got to that point. As cliché as it sounded, it was just something you admire about your home. It gave you a small sense of peace, that there were people just like you.

The restaurant seemed busy, from what you could see on the inside. Waiters were scattered all over as people came and went. In a quick motion, the driver parked and opened the door for you. Thanking him gracefully, you took a deep breath as you opened the door. Almost immediately, you wanted to go home. Everyone was dressed to the nines and looked so sophisticated. Meanwhile, you were dressed in a plain black dress that you got at a thrift store. You were like a small fish in a large pond, and it felt very obvious. At one point, you felt like everyone was staring at you (but they really weren’t, you were just overthinking, per usual).

With another deep breath, you walked up to the hostess stand, where she greeted you with a nice smile. “Hi! Welcome to The Inception Room, can I have your name?”

Nervously, you spoke up. “Hi, I don’t think the reservation’s under my name. I think it’s under Choi San?”

You cringed at your words and how stupid you sounded. Did everyone know who San was? If not, then it wouldn’t be a big deal. He was popular in the city, but not everyone kept up to date with CEO’s and business people. It’s not like he was an A-list celebrity. The more you talked it out in your head, the better you felt.

A subtle smirk appeared on the hostess’ face as she placed a menu down. “Follow me.”

This was it, you were going to die. She was going to take you to the basement where San would torture you. Kill you, even. You nervously followed the woman, thinking of how your family will react to your death and if you can reach them in time. You never thought your life would end this way, so sudden and abrupt. You didn’t even get the chance to finish your book. Hopefully they have libraries in the afterlife.

Rather than being led to a backdoor, the hostess brought you to a private table in the back, with a few other patrons surrounding you, but not too close. A wave of relief washed over you, but your anxiety was still through the roof. “Here you are, someone will be right over to take your order. Enjoy!”

“Thank you,” you thanked the woman as she walked away. 

Once she left, you were able to get a clear look at San, who looked… interesting. He wore a white long sleeve button down with a black tie, his jacket on the back of the chair. Glasses sat on his eyes, but he removed them once he saw you and put them in his jacket pocket. Holy shit, he looked good. Almost as if he was on a date. No, why on Earth would this man go on a date with you? He probably had multiple women he was seeing and brought home every night. This was just… a meeting. A meeting to discuss what happened. Yeah, that sounds right. 

A smirk slowly crept on his face as he stood to greet you. He said your name so smoothly as he took your hand into his. “It’s good to see you. You look very beautiful tonight.”

“Thanks. Best fifteen dollars I ever spent at a thrift store in Queens. Wait, am I even allowed to say that here?” You asked, looking around in embarrassment. “I meant the best fifteen hundred dollars I spent at a boutique the Queen of England used to shop at in London.”

No one responded, which made San laugh and your face became a little red. “You’re funny, funnier than I remember. No need to worry about that stuff, no one here is paying attention to anyone but themselves. Come, we have lots to talk about.”

“Yes, yes we do,” you agreed as you took your seat. The menu had a variety of options, all out of your paygrade. You didn’t want to say anything right away, so you pretended to look interested in what they had to offer. All of it sounded appetizing, it’s just the price that got you. “So many great options, do you come here frequently?”

“It’s my favorite restaurant in the entire city. Well, not including fast food. I think they have great food and they are great for hosting work dinners. I’m close with the owner,” San explained. 

You nodded your head. “Wow, that’s super cool. I’ve never been here, mostly my work events take place at some center with a lot of conference rooms. I’m happy to be trying something new.”

“It’s a great place, you’ll love it,” he reassured you. “You’re still at Silver Star, right?”

“Yes. I figured you’d know that since… well, the invitation I got yesterday,” you casually remarked. “Unless you had your assistant write it for you and you just signed off on it?”

“No, no I wrote it. I had one of my colleagues drop it off on his lunch break. Cute little company you work for, it fits you,” he answered, his eyes glued to the menu. 

You nodded your head slowly, finally realizing what he meant. “Ah, makes sense. I, um, I saw on the news that you're the CEO of Veridian now. That’s amazing, and a very big honor. I mean, the youngest to ever run the company? Insane.”

San laughed. “Thank you. My dad stepped down and needed a replacement, so he met with his team and they agreed that I should take over. I’m truly grateful. It’s a lot of responsibility, but I’m handling it well.”

“Oh for sure, but you’ll do fine. Veridian is a great company from what I hear,” you reassured him. Silence fell between you for a few moments, but you looked at him and your surroundings, hoping it would blow over soon. “Do you guys sever people?”

“What?” San asked, his eyebrow raised.

“Nothing,” you shook your head quickly, closing the menu. You worried too much about how quiet was and your mouth acted faster than your head. Hopefully it wasn’t a big deal, you honestly didn’t care. It would be something funny to joke about.

Luckily, he only smiled and ushered the waiter to come over. Only a bottle of red wine was ordered, since it was clear you two still needed more time picking what you wanted. “I hope red is okay with you, this place has the best, I get it all the time.”

“I love red! I’m not picky about my wine,” you told him. “But I glimpsed at the prices and that’s the only thing I can afford, even if we don’t split it. I’m embarrassed and I should of said something right away, but I got distracted and–”

San cut you off before you could finish. “Don’t even worry about it, it’s on me.”

But you rejected his offer, shaking your head. “No, no I can’t let you pay for all of this. It’s too much and I feel really bad. I can split it with you, I’ll probably just have to save a little extra next week. And have ice and soup as my food. It’s really no big deal, I shouldn’t have said anything.”

“No, I mean it, it’s on me. I invited you out here on a work night. The least I can do is pay for the meal. I honestly do not mind,” he reassured. 

Though it didn’t feel right to you, you eventually agreed and let it go. This broke the ice and left a gateway open to discuss the real reason why you were here. It had to come out at some point, you weren’t going to leave here without answers. A giant lumped form in your throat as you asked the question of the night. “So, are you ready to talk about why I’m actually here? I mean, we both know it’s because of what I saw, and you haven’t killed me yet. I think you have some things you want to say, so why are we here?”

San chuckled, taking a sip of his water and looking right at you. The eye contact intimidated you, but you held it. It made you feel stronger, somewhat. But before he could answer, the waiter came back and poured you both glasses of wine. You put in your food order, while San just told him his usual. “They know what I like,” he said once the waiter left. 

“I see,” you said. “As I said before, I want to know why I’m here. And I know it’s not because you wanted to treat me to an expensive dinner.”

He furrowed his eyebrows. “What? Can’t a guy take a pretty girl out to dinner just because he can?”

You gave him an amused look, taken back by his words. “You do not think I am pretty.”

“I do. I think you’re very beautiful,” he told you with a straight face, saying your name to add emphasis. “And I typically don’t say that on the first date.”

“First date? Yeah, okay,” you playfully rolled your eyes. You took a sip of wine and gathered your thoughts. “Anyways, we’re getting off track, and I’m starting to think you’re deflecting to avoid answering the question.”

San shook his head, trying to hide his smile. “All right, I’ll stop. I’ll cut straight to the point,” he cleared his throat. 

You felt a shift in the conversation, the playfulness now being turned into a serious, direct one. The nervousness came back to you even stronger now. But you could manage it, no matter what. This was the entire point of dinner, it wasn’t going to be all fun and games. It was good that you broke the tension and could talk about it freely now.

“I did invite you here because of what happened the other night,” he started, which was more than obvious. “What you saw wasn’t a real reflection of me. I mean, it doesn’t define all that I am and what I stand for. Something happened, and I was double-crossed by someone I thought I could trust. He was going to murder me, so I had to do what’s necessary.”

You were stunned at all the information. It was unexpected, you assumed it would be something more simple or even a lie, but his words seem genuine. As much as you wanted to know what happened, you figured it would be better to not push it. You didn’t really want to know, it seemed too dark and disturbing. “Wow,” was all you could manage. “Very upfront, I appreciate that. Is the guy okay? I mean, if he did betray you, that isn’t cool. But I hope he’s not . . . like, rotting in the middle of an alley.”

“He’s not, I made sure to get him out before anyone noticed. I don’t know how he’s doing now, but I really don’t care. Fair question, though,” San answered. 

You shrugged your shoulders. “Just figured I’d ask. But um, if you’re worried that I’m going to say something to my dad or brother, I promise I won’t. I know that doesn’t mean much, but I have no intention of saying anything. I honestly don’t care, it doesn’t involve me.”

The food had come and was placed before you. As the waiter walked away, San said something that took you back once more. “That’s not entirely true.”

Too focused on trying your meal, you finished chewing before you processed what he said. “What?” You asked, very anxiously. The dish made you feel more calm when speaking to him, probably because your hunger had subsided.

San finished his next bite and cleared his throat. “I don’t know how much you know about what your family does, but it’s not good. For any party involved, myself included. A lot of shit is happening and it will be very dangerous. That guy in the alley? He was an asset to me, someone I thought I could trust. He knew stuff about your family, other families, my family. It won’t be safe out there much longer.”

It was almost as if your heart stopped. Your parents had kept you out of their business for as long as you could remember, for reasons you never questioned. Maybe you wouldn’t understand, maybe you weren’t ready, but you just carried on with your life. You knew your family would do anything to protect you if it really came down to it, but why didn’t they tell you about this? You had the right to know if you and your family were in danger, so why haven’t they said anything? Did they not know enough yet? Did they need to work some things out? A million questions ran through your mind as you tried to figure out what was happening.

“Wow! That's, um, a big surprise. I’m not involved in what my parents and brother do, they’ve kept me out of it. They haven’t said much about this situation, either, so it’s a total shock,” you admitted, though you were embarrassed to say that you didn’t know much about what your parents do. Maybe you should ask more questions and get as much information as you can. It could be something you could work towards on your own time.

San nodded his head. “Yeah, it’s all still coming together. I’m trying to put a stop to it before it all falls apart, but it has not been easy.”

“Oh for sure, I can’t even imagine. So, like . . . can I ask how this involves me? I mean, I know my family is involved, but I just mean me specifically, because I genuinely don’t know,” you asked.

“Yeah, no, you have a right to ask,” San started. “I don’t know all of the details yet, your family is good at keeping things confidential. But if shit hits the fan, you’ll be in danger. I know you believe your family has your back, but even they won’t be able to handle this. And I’m not sure you will, either.”

It was silent, you had no idea what to say. The things he said about your family, it didn’t feel right. Sure, you were naive in this space, but you knew when things were true or not true. You were worried that this went deeper, there was something he wasn’t telling you. You wanted to press on and see if you could get more information, but you thought it was best if you held off for now. If you were to meet with San more, you probably would ask at some point later down the line.

You continued to eat and think about your response. San did as well, he seemed understanding of how you were feeling. “All right, I was not expecting that, either. But I appreciate you telling me, I needed to know. What do you think I should do to avoid this? Just so I’m prepared if I have to, like, go to war or something.”

San laughed once more. “You always know how to make someone laugh, even in serious situations,” he smiled. “I have an idea, and it might catch you off guard. But . . . I think you should come stay with me.”

You spit out your wine, coughing loudly. People started to look and San nearly jumped out of his chair to help you. “Shit, maybe I should have said that better. Are you okay?”

It took you a moment to finish coughing and to get it out of your system. “Yeah, yeah I’m good. All good, just . . . holy shit. That completely caught me off guard. Okay, um, that’s a very big step for the first date. I don’t . . . yeah, that definitely blindsided me. Um, why d-do you propose that?”

San had some water before he answered your question. “My family is more at an advantage than yours. You aren’t involved with them that much, but it will still be hard for you to salvage your reputation. Stay with me, and I can protect you. I can make sure no one even looks at your direction. If the truth is aired, I can try and help them, too.”

“Yeah, but that’s an if. If the truth gets out. We might not have to worry about it if you put a stop to it. I appreciate your concern, but I don’t know you at all and quite frankly, our families do not like each other. I just don’t think it is the smartest idea. If shit does hit the fan, then I can protect myself just fine. I’ll figure it out, I always do. But thank you for all of this. Really, I mean it,” you explained in hopes that he would not get upset with you.

He was taken back by your choice, but he didn’t push further. “No, you’re honestly right. It was a good idea in my head, but it’s probably not realistic. I’m sorry, I was just jumping ahead and wanted to prepare.”

You shook your head. “No, you’re totally good. I’d be the same way, and it’s not a terrible idea. If I just knew more of what was going on, then I would be open to considering it.”

“Yeah, I get it,” San said.

By that time, you had both finished your plates, and the waiter came by to collect them. He left a dessert menu before he left. “Do you want to order dessert?”

“Can I take it to-go? It’s getting late and I have to be up a little early for an important work meeting,” you asked.

San nodded his head in a reassuring way, and you quietly thanked him. Silence rose again as you two looked at the menu, deciding what you wanted. The brownie looked delicious, but the key lime pie looked wonderful. The ice cream did, too, but you could easily get that at the grocery store. Now that you think about it, the cheesecake also seemed really good. It was topped with raspberries and–

“You would do anything for your family, right?”

The question took you out of your thoughts. A puzzled look arose on your face as you looked at San, unsure of what he meant. “What?”

“The way you speak about your family, you just seem like you would do anything for them. I can tell you care for them a lot,” San explained. 

You hesitated for a moment. “Well, yeah, they’re my family. Of course I would, I love them so much. Wouldn’t you?”

“Yeah, family is everything to me, too. I’m curious because I just never see you at any events. I see your parents and brother all the time. I see how highly they think of him and how proud they are that he will be taking over as the leader. It must have been a lot of work to get him to that point.”

It felt like a harsh pinch on your arm, a reminder that your parents focused more on your brother than they did on you. It was nothing unexpected, you knew that for a long time, the reminder hurt no matter how hard you tried to forget. You tried to hide it, but the irritation in your face made it hard to do so.

You nodded your head and smiled, like you always did. “From what they told me, it was. But my brother has always been smart and he figured it all out. I am very happy for him, I know he will lead the Sons of Anarchy very well.”

A small smirk formed on his lips. “That’s good. I can’t even imagine how hard they worked to make him get to the place where he’s at now. It would be a shame if they lost all of that and would have to start over. You know how dangerous this life can get.”

It was obvious what he was doing, he was trying to get you to change your mind. Smart, but your mind was set. “For sure, I understand why my parents have kept it from me for so long. I don’t know how they do it.”

“I don’t even know how I do it,” San joked. “I’m just saying, they focus on your brother a lot. If they lost everything, wouldn’t they be so happy to hear that their daughter was the one to save them? The underdog, if you will. The protection, the status, the resources – they would still be there. And it could be all because of you. Now wouldn't that be special?”

The waiter came by and took your dessert order (you decided on the key lime pie while San chose the peanut butter brownie). You barely broke eye contact with him as you did. He was getting under your skin, implanting his words in your mind. But it wouldn’t work, you were firm on your decision. 

On the other hand, he did have a point. Things could turn horribly if San was telling the truth. Accepting his help would mean protecting yourself from those dangers, saving your family from that pain. They focused so much on your brother, it would be nice for a change if they acknowledged your accomplishments. You got nothing from tennis or your grades, and it hurt you. Of course, you didn’t want that to be what they finally recognized, but it was better than nothing. The idea of it seemed nice, but it would only happen if things did become bad. If everything was fine, then what was the point?

San slipped his credit card to the waiter without even looking at the bill. Must be nice, you thought to yourself. When he made eye contact with you again, you were ready to respond. “That does seem special, my parents would definitely be relieved if I got them out of danger. But I think it would be no different if it were my brother saving them, or my aunt or our neighbor. Besides, that’s only if things got bad. Who knows if it will? I mean, that’s what we all want, right?”

“Of course. All I’m saying is, your actions would be appreciated either way. If you chose to step up and save the family no matter what, it would be something your parents would never forget,” San offered. 

It was silent again, because he has a good point. Everything could go completely fine and nothing could come about this, but your family would still be proud. They would still be so happy you protected them and would recognize your efforts. You won in either scenario, whatever way it went.

“You don’t have to make a decision right now. I know you want some time to think about it,” San told you, both of you thanking the waiter as he tipped and signed the check. “I’ll give you my number when we get outside, you can call or text me at any time to let me know. I won’t be upset if you decide not to, I just wanted to offer another perspective.”

You nodded your head and grabbed your purse. San slipped on his glasses and jacket, letting you walk out first. His hand was on the small of your back as he guided you out of the restaurant. You began to worry that people stared at you as you walked out, like they would tell your family or someone bad about who you were with. It was all irrational, however. Like San said, everyone was too busy focusing on themselves.

San spoke to some people briefly before you walked out, exchanging smiles and quick hugs. You could only offer a small smile since you didn’t want to intrude on their time. The city air was busy, per usual, but it was nice to be back in reality after everything. It was a reminder that you still had your life, that everything was still normal (somewhat). 

“Do you only wear glasses for show?” You asked as you followed him to a nearby parking garage. It was easier for the car to pick you both up from there, he explained earlier. Hopefully he still wasn’t trying to kill you. “You took them off when I came in but put them back on when we left. Is it just a signature look you’re trying out?”

A smile crept on his face as he laughed. “Kind of? They help me when I’m reading long documents for work or if I’m on the computer, but I take them off when I have meetings with people like this. I’m starting to like it, though, do you?”

You shrugged your shoulders. “It’s not bad. It kinda suits you in this light, so maybe not for every occasion.”

Another laugh fell from his mouth and you let out a small one. “Noted,” he smiled. 

Before you could say anything, a car had pulled up right in front of you. You assumed it was for you, since San wasn’t in a rush to say goodbye. He quickly took his phone out of his pocket and handed it to you. “Put your number in and call me once you have made a decision. Like I said, take as long as you need, I’ll be around.”

“Thanks,” was all you could muster. There was a lot to think about and you were too exhausted to say anything else regarding that. You stepped into the car and held the door open. “And thank you for dinner, seriously. I appreciate it so much, it was good to see you. Congrats on the promotion!”

San leaned on the door, smiling. “Anytime, it was good to see you, too. I’ll see you next time, Princess,” he said, adding your name for emphasis. 

You gave a small wave and shut the door, trying your best to avoid the color rising in your cheeks. The nickname was unexpected. Some would find it cringy in other situations, but the way it rolled off San’s tongue was so smooth, so nonchalant. It worked well, though you’d never tell him that. 

As you drove off, you nearly vomited in your seat. Well, not really, it just finally hit you that the night was over and you didn’t have to be nervous anymore. You were alive, San didn’t kill you. He was nice, nicer than you thought. But you could finally be at peace and not have to worry about your every move.

His words stuck with you. The danger of the families he mentioned and how he was trying to stop it. You couldn’t tell if San was lying, it was hard to decipher. Why else would he ask you to stay with him in exchange for protection? He randomly invites you out to dinner as a warning and offers a way out of the chaos. It was just so odd and not what was going to happen. 

It seemed ridiculous, if you were being honest. Staying with him? How would that even work? Your parents would never let you, nor would they believe you if you just randomly told them you were moving out. There had to be another reason why San offered this to you, it didn’t add up. You certainly weren’t going to go through with it.

Sure, it would be nice to finally have your family’s approval and have them be proud of what you’ve done. They showed all of that to your brother, and while you loved him, you had enough. When would it be your turn? Haven’t you done enough?

And it would be nice to have a close friend, too. You had no idea what San’s intentions were or if he was seeing someone, but it would be nice to have someone to talk to. He knew about your family’s line of work and was smart, you could confide in him about what was going on and learn more. He could also help you with some work issues, helping you solve problems you were stuck on. 

You were in over your head. It was a nice dinner and that was that. You weren’t going to live with San, you were going to go on with your life as normal. He could just be an acquaintance, someone you saw once in a while for coffee. That in itself was nice, despite wanting more from someone (platonically, of course).

All you knew about your life was that it was normal, or as normal as it could get. Little did you know, however, that this was only the beginning. The world you once knew was going to change, you had entered a world where you could not look back. It scared you, what you might encounter. But what you will come to learn is that the experience would be the best thing to ever happen to you. Even if it left you questioning everything you once knew.

──────────────────────

San had returned home later that evening, a little before eleven. There were some things he needed to take care of before he wanted to go to bed. They didn’t take long, and he was home earlier than expected.

His friends Song Mingi and Jung Wooyoung sat at the kitchen counter in his penthouse. They were playing some sort of card game. Wooyoung was losing, which was evident from the frustrated look on his face. Mingi was celebrating, laughing at the money and other things he accumulated from the game. It was always fun watching these two play, because you never knew what was going to happen.

Wooyoung looked up from his cards and smirked. “Look who’s finally back. Did she agree to move in with you? I bet she’s coming here tonight, who wouldn’t be able to resist Choi San’s charm?”

San shook his head as he set his keys on the counter and grabbed a bottle of water. “No, she declined. I gave her my number to see if she’ll change her mind.”

The two men scoffed. “I knew she wouldn’t give in, she’s not that naive. I told you to just bring her here and show her the place!”

“Aw, relax, would you?” San scolded his friend. “She wouldn’t have come if I had dinner here. Besides, I’m not worried. She’ll come around, I know she will.”

Wooyoung smirked, making his next move in the game. “You sure about this, boss? ‘Cause it’ll all go south if you can’t convince her.”

“Don’t worry,” San smirked. “I have her right where I want her.”

The trio looked at each other before erupting into laughter and pound hugs. With a swift motion, San brought a chair over and began to watch his friend’s game, eager to see how it would unfold.

Choi San wasn’t afraid of many things. He had been tough from an early age. Your immediate rejection of his idea didn’t startle him, he would be surprised if you didn’t. It only fueled him more, motivated him to get what he wanted: you under his roof. It wouldn’t take long to do, even if you were stubborn. San had ways of making things happen quickly, and if he wanted something done, he would make it happen. That included you. 

Soon enough, he would have everything in the palm of his hand. This was only the beginning, but San was prepared to handle whatever chaos the new world was going to throw at you and him. Anything to keep you safe, even if it left him questioning the person he was going to become.

[kirilunimimi]

the space between us three (jyh) | series masterlist

⇢summary: while juggling the demands of life, yunho continues to do his best to raise his independent 11 yr old daughter, seora. throughout the years, they've built a strong foundation, an unbreakable bond— one that consists of late night talks and food runs, father/daughter dates, and sideline cheerleading at her basketball games. so when you unexpectedly come into their world, things shift. despite the uncertainty and the fear of stepping outside of their comfort zone, yunho and seora eventually learn how to open their hearts and learn how to rebuild a home where three can thrive together.

⇢pairing: single dad!yunho x f. reader

⇢genre: (18+ - minors dni) strangers to lovers, single dad au | fluff, angst, smut

⇢general warnings: cussing, mature language, slice of life, insecurities, anxiety and trauma from past events, death/mentions of death and tragic accidents, unprotected sex, alcohol consumption, complex relationships, growing pains, etc. - individual warnings for each chapter will be included

⇢release: coming soon ! 11.29.24

⇢a/n: hi! i know we dearly love our pmylm!yunho but i'm bringing a new yunho to the plate - one i think you'll equally adore. i'll be working on this alongside of wildfire next - idk why this comeback is also giving single dad yunho of a pre-teen so here i am lol hope to release it soon and i hope you all enjoy it <33

⇢playlist

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[kirilunimimi]

Backstage Pass

Pairing: Wooyoung X Reader X Seonghwa X San

Author's Note: This is in fact a reupload, I edited some things and it diverted too much from the original. nonetheless, I hope you enjoy!!! -admin j (aka admin coconut)

Genre: Smut, 18+, MINORS DNI, Sweet tooth rotting fluffy aftercare afterwards >.< Word Count: 11.7k words Summary: After a long, exciting concert, your bandmates know the perfect way to release all that extra energy and adrenaline. Warnings: Fem!Reader, Mommy!Hwa, Noona!Woo, Unnie!San, Woosanhwa uses feminine honorifics (and pronouns), Double Penetration, Lots of cum, Cumplay, Object insertion, Snowballing, Spitting, its fucking messy as fuck, Cum marking, Dom!Hwa, Mean Bratty Dom!Woo, Soft Dom!San and Sub!Reader, Blowjobs, Face Sitting, Facials, Creampies, Lots and lots of cum did I mention that?, Cum Eating, Oral (F and M receiving), Facefucking, Foursome, Anal, Ass eating, Rimming, this is so fucking filthy holy shit, Fingering, Video Recording, Possessive sex, Jealous sex, Petnames, Dick piercings, Woosanhwa are just all covered in piercings ngl, i probably missed some shit, dacryphilia, slight mxm in a few parts nothing too serious, Biting, Free use, Choking, Praise, Degrading, Princess!Mingi mention lol

 The moment the last note is strummed, the concert comes to a halt, and the crowd cheers with pure excitement. You’re gasping for air, the pump of adrenaline coursing through your veins. Oh, you could never get used to this. It was exhilarating.

“Thank you, Houston!” You cheer, and the crowd roars with cheers and excitement. As you lift your hand to wave goodbye to the city, there’s a big grin on your face.

You love what you do. You love performing for the adoring fans, and you love travelling to meet new fans, but most importantly, you love your bandmates more than anything.

As you grabbed your microphone off the stand, you began to make your way off the stage, following right behind Seonghwa, Wooyoung, and San. In order, their roles in the band were guitarist, drummer, bassist, and vocals.

The curtains close in on the crowd, but you can still hear the cheers from the other side, filling your body with a great sense of pride and accomplishment.

When the four of you make it backstage, there's a flurry of staff running around. Some of them are carrying props, and others are carrying sound equipment and lights. It's extremely chaotic.

“I’ll be back. I need to find a restroom here.” San lets out a groan, gently propping his bass guitar against a wall, walking deeper and deeper backstage. A staff member quickly grabs his bass guitar, running around backstage to put it away.

“Maybe we should head to the bus.” You spoke up softly. Seonghwa looks down at you, pursing his lips to a thin line. There has been jealousy, a bitter jealousy, simmering in his blood ever since he saw you with a fan.

Are you serious? Are you just going to get on the bus and act like nothing happened? Not on his watch. Hwa’s eyes dart over to Woo, who is biting the inside of his cheek.

Wooyoung was a lot more open about his jealousy, and the angry tint in his eyes was all Seonghwa needed to proceed.

You stop in your tracks as you feel Seonghwa grip your bicep, his grasp firm and his intent clear as day. “Let’s have a chat, first,” Seonghwa says dryly, and with a gentle tug, he begins to lead you towards what seems to be a green room: Your green room.

Wooyoung couldn’t help but have a sly grin on his face, his other arm snaking around your waist. His grip is tight, squeezing your hip like a child holds his favorite toy. “Wasn’t that a great show? I’m just so pumped up right now.” Woo couldn’t help but purr. The smell of his sweat mixed with his cologne made your head spin. You swallow back some of your spit, a pit forming in your stomach. Not out of fear or anxiety, but more out of anticipation. “I-It really was.” You couldn’t help but nod.

The inside of your green room was rather spacious, all things considered. Your vanity desk was rather neat, with just your prop microphone resting in the middle. The mirror has little LED lightbulbs around the frame. A soft plush sofa is propped against the wall, accented with little decorative cushions and blankets, and there’s an armchair on the other side of the room. Your eyes dart around the padded acoustic wall panels on the walls and the ceilings. Wooyoung is the last one to walk in behind you, lazily locking the door behind him, ensuring complete privacy.

Wooyung couldn’t help but mentally give kudos to Seonghwa: He chose the perfect room to get as loud as they pleased.

The two sources of light in this room are the overhead light that illuminates this soundproofed green room and the vanity lights. It’s dead silent, and the atmosphere is so tense. Knives would have a field day slicing this thick tension.

Finally, after what felt like ages, Seonghwa broke the silence. “Who was that guy in the crowd?” There's a dangerous undertone in his voice. You swallow nervously, his hands tightening their grip on your biceps. Your hands curled into fists, your arms tensing up slightly.  “O-Oh you know. Gotta play my part with our fans.” You stammer out a reply, a little smile forming on your face. Wooyung growls, and his arms fully wrap around your waist, yanking you back against his chest. You couldn’t help but let out a soft moan as his soft plush lips begin sucking gently on your exposed neck. His cold lip ring piercing makes your skin tingle slightly. Wooyoung couldn't care less if you were going to complain about the marks. Right now, he’s fucking fuming. “We know we agreed to keep this private, but you’re really, really testing us.” Woo hissed out, sinking his teeth into your neck. You cry out in a mixture of pleasure and pain, letting out soft whimpers as Wooyoung lazily licks over the new-forming bruise. A smirk forms on his face, he loves hearing your pathetic noises so much.

Seonghwa, who was not amused with your response, lets go of your biceps, only to immediately grip your chin. He forces you to look up at him, the intent of his jealousy shining so obviously in his eyes. “You don’t have to get that into it.” Seonghwa snarls. 

You couldn’t help but shudder; Seeing Seonghwa this pissed was so fucking sexy. He tsks, shaking his head in disappointment. “You get on stage… and it's like your pretty head immediately forgets who you belong to.” He leans in, and his lips are pressed to yours in a rough kiss. You softly moan in response, your hands gently gripping Hwa’s forearms, feeling the soft polyester material beneath your fingertips.

Hwa’s kiss is rough, needy, and demanding. His teeth bite down on your bottom lip, only soothing it better as he slips his tongue inside your mouth. Your tongue playing with the metal ball of his tongue piercing sets his body ablaze. This is exactly what Hwa wants. This simple act soothes his frayed, jealous nerves.

Watching your kiss with Hwa, Wooyoung’s hands, which were littered with silver and black colored rings, began to trace and dance around your body. “You really need a reminder of who you belong to.” Wooyoung whispers in your ear, a big grin forming on his face. You let out another moan between Hwa’s soft lips as Wooyoung’s hands snuck underneath your tank top, his hands cupping your breasts through your thin bralette.

You shudder and twitch ever so slightly under his grasp. Wooyoung’s fingers begin to tease at your nipples, nibbling gently at your earlobe. “Look at how responsive she is for Mommy and Noona… She’s just begging to be put in her place, isn’t she?” Woo purrs, his hands pulling your tank shirt up just enough so it rested above your chest. With swift fingers, Seonghwa works to unbuckle your bralette, also raising it above your chest.

Gasping for air, you broke the kiss, moaning as Wooyoung toyed with your nipples, tugging and pulling until they were stiff peaks. “Isn’t that right, baby? Are you so needy for Mommy and Noona?” Seonghwa couldn’t help but croon, his long, deft fingers reaching for the hem of your low-rise jeans, unbuttoning them swiftly and deftly.

“Y-Yes…” You whimpered in response, and Wooyoung pinched your nipples, causing you to whine slightly and arch involuntarily against his back. “Nuh-uh, slut. Who are we to you?” His tone is almost mocking, snickering slightly as your face flushes red. Wooyoung loved teasing you, he loves seeing how flustered you get because of him. “M-Mommy and Noona…” You finally stammer out as Seonghwa pulls down your pants, revealing your black lace underwear. “Such a good baby…”

“Let Mommy tell you what she has in store for her naughty baby, okay?” Seonghwa purrs, his eyes staring right up at you, waiting expectantly for you to respond. So, reluctantly, you swallow and nod. “Y-Yes, Mommy…” You responded, and Seonghwa hummed with delight.

Wooyoung’s hands finally stop toying with your breasts, his fingers gently trailing down your abdomen. His touch is feather light, and he can feel the way your body prickle with goosebumps. Wooyoung smiles to himself, enjoying the way you’re just so responsive to him.

“You see, you’ve been a very naughty baby. Looking at your fans, while you know full well you belong to us....” Seonghwa has a smirk on his face, relishing in how much dominance he currently has over you. “Such a bad, little pet...”

You let out a soft yelp as Wooyoung’s hand makes direct contact with your ass, gently squeezing to soothe it better afterwards. “You’re so naughty, little pet. You wanted this, didn’t you? You wanted to rile up your Noona and Mommy.” Woo growls, nipping your ear again. As much as he likes the chase of it, sometimes you did like to push it too far. “I-I wasn’t doing this on purpose, Noona.” You squeaked softly, and Wooyoung clicked his tongue. “Do you think I was born yesterday? I know your game better than you do.” He bit your earlobe again, and he growled once more in your ear.

“We will not gonna go easy on you, either. Since you want to be such a little brat, you need to be punished accordingly.” Wooyoung giggles with glee as Seonghwa gently forces your legs open further.

Hwa felt his blood go utterly cold as he sees the sight of the small, ruby bejeweled buttplug that was inside of your ass. Oh, you’re such a little brat. ”I can see you had some… plans after the show that we were not aware of.” He murmured, although there was nothing light about his tone of voice. His long fingers gently reach to it, slightly teasing by tugging on it, and pushing it back in place. You let out a soft noise, with Hwa tsking lightly in disapproval. “You’re claiming you weren’t doing this on purpose, and yet here you are, your ass ready to be whored out.”

You let out a strangled moan as Wooyoung suddenly plunges two fingers knuckles deep inside your pussy. His fingers rub that special spot that makes you see stars, your legs trembling and threatening to buckle from the pleasure.

“You need a lot of reminders, it seems.” Seonghwa spat, watching with great interest as your sweet juices spill all on Wooyoung’s fingers, enjoying the sound of your noises spilling from your lips.

“N-Noona, please...” You found yourself softly begging, and a whine rips from your throat as Wooyung pulls his fingers out of your leaky cunt, tsking slightly. “No. You’re not in control here.”

Wooyoung then lets go of you, his hand to his lips, licking up your sweet juices off his fingers. “Now, sit down and relax, pet.” He crooned, although there was nothing light-hearted about his tone.

 You comply, and with your face now a soft pink color, you carefully make your way to the soft plush couch, taking a seat as requested.

Your eyes widened, and your face burned with embarrassment as Wooyoung handed you a microphone. That’s your microphone, the recognizable sleek, matted navy blue color unique only to you. The one that you used to perform the show today. And then Woo tosses a condom on your lap, and it’s like your brain is melting into goo.

Seonghwa was rather surprised by Wooyoung’s little plan, but he had no qualms about it. “Go on, Dove.” Seonghwa purrs, his arms crossed. Your eyes accidentally land on his tent in his jeans, and you swallow a bit of drool that formed in your mouth. 

“Y-Yes, Mommy…” Carefully, you brought the condom to your teeth, tearing off the wrapper with precise ease. Pulling the condom itself out of the wrapper, you took a shuddered breath, hesitating for just a moment. You knew what you had to do, but it still felt a bit embarrassing. You looked back up at Wooyoung, who was already shamelessly jerking himself off. “Come on, pet. You wanted to be naughty, this is your punishment.” Wooyoung sneers, his hand wrapped around the base of his cock, slowly pumping himself. The ladder piercings that trailed up his shaft were in full view, and you drool just a little bit.

With a soft, shaky breath, you took the condom and effortlessly rolled it onto the base of the microphone. You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at Hwa or Woo. It felt way too embarrassing, your face was bright red. But at the same time, it all makes you feel like your core is spiraling, your pussy throbbing with need. This was so fucking hot, for all the wrong, filthy reasons.

“Now, why don’t you give us a show? Go ahead, Love.” Seonghwa smirks, slowly unzipping his jeans to finally release his throbbing cock from its confines. There was no need to explain what he had wanted. 

“Y-Yes, Mommy…” You stammer out, slowly pulling down your black underwear off your body. Trails of your sticky arousal clung to your thighs, your face burning more with shame. Carefully, you spread your legs, the view of your throbbing cunt in full display for Hwa and Wooyoung. “Oh fuck, look at you. You’re such a little horny slut for us, aren't you?” Woo sneers, his thumb rubbing over his red, sensitive tip, smearing precum all over. 

You softly bit your lower lip and tried to look down and focus on the mic between your legs instead of them. You can’t bring yourself to look at their intense stares anymore. It feels like you just might explode.

Soenghwa watches with keen interest as you carefully brought the microphone to your folds, letting out a soft moan as you rubbed the blunt tip against your clit. “Good girl. Keep going.” Hwa nods, his cock twitching with interest. But he doesn’t touch himself, wanting to watch you instead, just to make you feel more shame.

“Oh fuck, that’s sooo hot.” Wooyoung moans out, his hand still pumping the tip of his cock, his eyes glued on the scene before him. With a sly grin, his free hand reaches for his pocket, pulling out a cell phone. You can immediately recognize it as his spare: The one he uses to record you.

“Come on, Sweetie. Fuck yourself with your mic already.” Wooyoung whines out in annoyance, positioning the phone so it had the perfect recording view of you, capturing everything.

“N-Noona…” You couldn’t help but slightly whine, but deep down, you knew better than to piss them off further. They can and will leave you alone, not touching you for the rest of the night. You could already imagine Wooyoung’s shit eating grin and Seonghwa’s sadsitic smirk as they leave you be…

You softly bit your lower lip, and you let out a shuddered moan as you slip the microphone inside your leaky cunt, your walls clamping eagerly around the handle. Your face burns even redder in pure shame, your eyes shut and your eyebrows slightly furrowed. You couldn’t deny that there was something about this filthy, explicit scenario... It’s turning you on even further.

“N-Noona..!” You moan as you slowly begin to thrust the mic inside you, the end hitting your g-spot perfectly. Your juices leak and spill out, coating the condom covered mic and Wooyoung couldn’t help but let out a moan too in response. His heavy cock leaks more and more of his precum onto his hand. Woo’s hand grips the camera tighter, trembling to keep it steady and focused on you. He’s pumping himself faster, hoping to finally catch that peak himself.  He tossed his head back, biting his bottom so hard crimson blood oozed out steadily.

Suddenly, Wooyoung’s eyes snap open as Hwa’s hand grips his wrist, forcing him to come to a halt. The pleasure that had been building up in his spine disappears almost immediately, causing a loud needy, whiny “What the fuck?” to leave his lips.

“Noona needs to be patient.” Hwa clicks his tongue, and Wooyoung rolls his eyes. “Whatever.” Wooyoung grumbles, reluctantly pulling his hand away him his throbbing cock, that was twitching and jolting from unresolved frustration. His attention is brought back to you, and he zooms in a little bit on the show, grinning excessively. 

Your moans are getting louder and more whiny, adjusting the position of your hand to fully thrust the mic inside you. You tossed your head back against the couch, the noises leaving your lips being borderline pornographic. “Look at us, Dove.” Seonghwa purrs, and you moved your head to look back at him, eyes opened with little tears of pure bliss forming. “Look at us as you fuck yourself stupid with your microphone.”

More of your juices spilled and coated the condom-covered mic, and you could only sheepishly nod, eyes locked on Wooyoung and Seonghwa. 

Seonghwa has a taunting smile on his face, finding this whole scene erotic. The bulge in his jeans was proof of his enjoyment. Wooyoung is still recording, having a shit-eating grin. “Awh, look at Little Miss Rockstar here…” Woo taunts, and he makes his way to you. He holds the camera up higher, flipping the camera so it was recording ont he front camera. Woo grins, moving his face and the camera just enough so it caught his face, and the mic buried in your cunt in the same frame. He stuck his tongue out in a playful manner.

“Such a dirty dirty little whore, using her mic to get off after such a long show…” He laughs. “How do you think Unnie would feel about this, seeing you use your mic for such a dirty thing?” Wooyoung has a shit-eating grin, and he suddenly grips your wrist, forcing you to halt your movements. You let out a whimper, the buildup of an orgasm that was forming in your abdomen had disappeared once again, leaving you with a growing sense of sexual frustration. ” See this, Unnie?” Wooyoung taunts, his grin wide and devilish. His hand lets go of your wrist, reaching and pulling the mic out of your leaky pussy. You let out a shuddered sigh as he pulls it out, feeling a sense of emptiness now. “You better hurry here, or else you won’t get a taste.”

A loud moan spills from your lips as Wooyoung’s tongue presses suddenly against your clit, giivng long laps and strides like he was a starving man. The hand holding the camera trembles as it tries to focus in on the lewd sight of Woo eating you out, your moans filling the room. He softly moans between your pussy, humping the couch so slightly to get any form of relief on his aching cock.

Seonghwa bit his lip softly at the erotic scene before him, and he finally begins to palm him aching cock through his jeans.

“N-Noona, fuck!” You cried out, your hand gripping his long dark locks of hair as he greedily eats you out, the metal ball of his tongue piercing playing with your clit with each flick. At some point, Woo hits end on the recording, and tosses the phone on the couch. “You’re so loud and wet for Noona. You like being humiliated like this, don’t you?” Seonghwa softly croons, a smirk on his face. 

You can’t help but let out a whimper, as Wooyoung pulls away from your cunt, your juices glistening on his lips and piercing. The build up had once again been torn from you, and you had tears streaming down your face at this point. “N-Noona, Mommy, please, I-I can’t……” You cried out pathetically. Wooyoung tsks, shaking his head. “Nope, don’t try to play innocent now. You were the one being bad, this is just your punishment.” He brought his hand to his lips, wiping away the remainder of your arousal off his hand.

“Noona is correct. Bad pets don’t get to cum.” Seonghwa nods before making his way to you, his hand gently cradling your face. His thumbs gently wipe away your frustrated tears, and he makes a pout, patronizing you further. “Awh, is my Dove frustrated?” He croons, before his free hand wraps around the base of his cock, pumping himself slow and steady. “Well, too bad, baby. Open wide.” Seonghwa commands, and you sheepishly comply, opening your mouth and sticking your tongue out. “Good girl. Just stay like that for your Mommy and Noona.” Hwa nods in approval. He positions his cock as he pumps himself, having a direct target right on your tongue and lips. 

Wooyoung rose ot his feet, his hand immediately wrapping around his cock, jerking himself off fast and quick. His cock also aimed right at you. This was humiliating. Your jaw is slightly burning, staying in this position as they jerk themselves off. The way they’re also staring you down like they’re taunting you further…

Wooyoung’s moans get loud and whiny, his hand moving quickly on his shaft. The pleasure builds up again in his spine. He couldn’t care less who could hear him. The sight of you with your tongue out, waiting for his cum was driving him further and further to the edge.

Hwa has soft, pretty moans spilling from his lips, his hand paying special attention to his sensitive tip. He tosses his head back in pure bliss, his Adam’s Apple bobbing slightly with each moan. 

The first to cum was Wooyoung. He lets out a high-pitched whiny moan as he came, streams of his cum shooting and landing on your tongue and lips. You slightly jolt but recover quickly, letting him cum in your mouth as he so pleased. Some of it lands on your cheek, adding more ot this humiliation.

Seonghwa came not soon after, his cum also shooting on your tongue, a few spurts on your plush lips. The mixed taste of their cum fills up your senses, and for a moment, you close your mouth, getting ready to swallow.

But then-

“Do not swallow. Kiss Noona.” Seonghwa commands. Wooyoung looks rather surprised by this, but he does not hesitate for even a second.

He leans down, and his lips are eagerly pressed to yours in a passionate, needy kiss. You moan, arms wrapping around his neck to pull him in closer. His teeth gently nibble at your lower lip, and you let him slip his tongue inside, the mixture of Hwa’s and Woo’s cum now mixing with yours and Woo’s spit.

Wooyoung pulls away, a trail of spit connecting yours and his lips. Woo grins, and carefully, he stuck his tongue out to reveal the sticky pearlescent mixture of cum and spit he snuck from your mouth, the ball tongue piercing glossy in its essence.

Wooyoung rose to his feet and let out a shivered moan as Seonghwa pressed his lips against his. Your eyes widen at the sight, the heat pooling between your legs getting even hotter and hotter. More of your juices spill out in response, feeling waves and waves of arousal coursing through your body. Seonghwa grips Woo’s bicep, his head tilted to gain better access into Wooyoung’s mouth. Woowoung moans even more, and you can see a glimpse of their tongues playing, exchanging the cum between their mouths.

Seonghwa pulls away from Woo, who is softly gasping for air. His cock was  twitching and rock solid at such an unexpected encounter, but he would not be one to complain one bit.  You didn’t miss the way Hwa’s also begun to harden, his cock jolting slightly. You softly swallowed, as Hwa turns his attention to you, leaning down so his head was right close to yours

“Open.” Seonghwa croons, and you comply, once again sticking your tongue out. There’s still the milky evidence of their cum in your mouth, and you waited, fully expecting his lips to come in contact with yours.

But Hwa had other plans..

Instead, he sticks his tongue out and spits the mixture of cum and spit on your tongue. Your tongue jolts again, and Seonghwa forces your mouth shut. “Now you may swallow, Dove.” He taunts, his words having a slight sadistic edge to them. Their cum mixed in with Woo’s, Hwa’s, and your spit created an interesting texture, one that, you admit,  is looking forward to doing again. You slowly swallowed all of it, and Seonghwa smirked. “Good girl.” He croons, and he finally begins tugging off his clothes, one by one. He slips the top off with ease, the little studded jewelry on his nipples and belly button catching the light and shining so brightly. You found yourself staring at his ethereal beauty.

Being the jealous, needy Noona he was, Wooyoung couldn’t help but slightly whine, as you was giving Seonghwa all of your attention at the moment. He pulls you by your wrist, forcing you to rise to your feet, and his lips are then pressed against yours. Needy, desperate, everything. 

You moaned softly, his teeth biting at your lower lip until it was swollen and raw. He slips his tongue inside, and your can feel the cool metal ball of his piercing playing and toying with your tongue.

He pulls away from the kiss, a string of saliva connecting you and him from the passionate kiss. Eagerly, he pulls off his jacket, revealing his toned arms and shoulders. 

“Sit on my face.” Wooyoung barks, leaving no room for argument. He lies down on the plush couch, propping one of the decorative pillows under his head for support. His long black hair spreads slightly behind him, and  he looks up at me with expecting eyes. “Cmon. Noona wants a taste.”

You blush and comply, carefully straddling his chest, and moving upwards until your hips were hovering right over his face. Your knees waere planted right next to his head. He tsks and does a little spinning motion with his finger. “Face the other way.”

Oh 

Oh. 

You got off him  for just a moment, turning 180 degrees, and carefully hovering again over his face. You could see the vanity mirror now, which was highlighting the erotic display now. Hwa smirks as your face flushes at the realization,  with a soft hum. He’s pulled off all of his clothing, his cock hard and twitching. Wooyoung’s cock was in full display, and it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what he wants you to do.

“Good girl…” Wooyoung coos, his hands gently pushing down on your  back so your chest was pressed against his abdomen, your face head to head with his cock. His cock jolts slightly, some of his salty precum oozing against your cheek. His teeth sink into the soft flesh of your thighs, leaving marks anywhere he so pleased. Your legs trembled and ached at each bite against both sides of his face.

Carefully wrapping your fingers around the base of his cock, Wooyoung lets out a shuddered moan, his hands gently gripping and kneading the soft cushion of your ass. “Fuck, just like that, for Noona..” He moans, and he begins to feast on your pussy, short impatient strokes of his tongue against your throbbing pussy.

You moan, your hands trembling as you tried focusing on pumping Wooyoung’s cock, his feral strides making it difficult to do so. Your  lips carefully wrapped around the tip of his cock, feeling his cock jolt and twitch under your lips. Wooyoung is going feral, his tongue licking over your clit and folds like he’s a dying, starving man.

Your mind is spinning with all the pleasure on your aching cunt, your moans vibrating on Woo’s cock. You slowly lowered your head further, your tongue pressed against his shaft. Your hands moved to grip into Wooyoung’s thighs, your nails lightly digging into his jeans.

“Aren’t you such a good little thing for Noona and Mommy?” Seonghwa croons softly before walking towards you. The tip presses against your face, smearing some of his precum on your reddened cheek. “Don’t forget Mommy’s cock, love” He says in a singsong tone. You took your hand and wrapped it around the base of Hwa’s cock. He sighs as you tighten just enough for him, and he moves his hips as he fucks your fist. He collects some of his spit and spits on yout hand, lubricating himself with each thrusts. Each time he thrusts, the tip of his cock hits your face, more of his messy precum spilling on your cheek. 

The door to the practice room suddenly opens, and you gag in pure shock. Your eyes accidentally locked in on San, standing in the doorway.

He is standing there, looking down at you with a surprised expression. It shifts over to a mischievous grin. He already has his jacket off, just wearing that tank top that shows off his large, muscular arms and shoulders. His cock is straining against his jeans. 

“Noona sent me your show earlier.” San muses, slowly pulling his shirt off his body. His toned body was now in full display, with the belly button piercing he always hid now glimmering slightly and catching the light. “I’m a bit sad, Angel. You started having fun without your Unnie.” San has a little pout, his hand gently caressing the top of your head, and you whimper, your mouth still full of Wooyoung’s thick cock. “About time, Unnie. We thought you would miss using our little toy.” Seonghwa smirks, his pace not stopping one bit as he fucks your fist. San chuckles, his eyes gleaming with something. “No worries. Better late than never, right?”

Carefully, he walked over to your lower side, biting his lip as he watches Wooyung devour your pussy, the buttplug still inside of you. “Oh fuck. That’s so hot.” He moans.

Your moans are muffled as Woo plants his feet on the couch, and begins thrusting his hips upwards, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat. Wooyoung is still going crazy on your pussy, his tongue lapping all of the mess, his tongue thrusting inside your hole. “Sho good.” Wooyoung moans between your lips, completely lost in the pleasure. Having your sweet lips on his cock was amazing, but also tasting you come undone on his tongue was driving him mad.

San’s big hands gently grip your asscheeks, spreading them apart just a bit more to watch Wooyoung devour your pussy. “Oh, look at you. So wet and so perfect.” San coos gently, his hands caressing and kneading the soft flesh.

You couldn’t even respond if your had wanted to, little tears form in your eyes as Wooyoung face fucks you, Seonghwa has gripped your hair in a makeshift pony-tail, keeping your head steady. He’s still fucking your fist. A pornographic moan spills form his lips, the sight of Wooyoung’s cock buried in your mouth, the tears in your eyes, your hand wrapped around his own cock was becoming too much for Hwa to handle.

A muffled moan escapes your lips as San gently hooks his fingers underneath the ruby jewel buttplug base, leaning down to leave a bite on your buttcheek. “Look at you. Did you pick this one just for Unnie?” San purrs softly between your skin, and with a simple, gentle, and careful motion, he gently pulls on the plug. Your ass eagerly opens up, releasing the plug without any resistance. San pulls the plug out and tosses it somewhere on a towel.

“Don’t let her trick you.” Hwa lets out a shuddered moan. “She had other plans we were not aware of.” He smirks slightly, as your eyes widen at his words.

You tried to protest, and  San lets out a soft velvety laugh. “Is that so? Well…” His hand wrapped around the base of his cock, San begins to pump himself slowly as his tongue makes its way… to your second hole. “Could he do this as good as us?”

Muffled moans leave your lips again as San greedily eats your ass out, his spit dropping and collecting over Wooyoung’s tongue, who was at this point, pussydrunk. He was tonguefucking you at this poiint, the metal ball of his piercing running up and down your velvety walls and making you lose your mind further. 

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head as waves of pleasure coursed through your body, a powerful orgasm washing through you. You juices had spilled out and made a mess all over his face, as Wooyoung wanted so badly.

Wooyoung’s own moans are muffled between your lips. The room is filled with the soft shallow breaths of San and Seonghwa, their noises getting louder and needier.

Wooyoung’s thrusts became erratic, his eyes rolled to the back of his head and a whiny cry leaves his lips as he reaches his peak, cumming streams and streams of cum inisde your mouth. You gagged slightly, tears forming in your eyes as his cock hits the back of your mouth, his cum slightly leaking out from the corners of your lips.

San lets out a gutteral moan, moving his tongue away from your hole as he pumps his cock like a madman. He tosses his head back, and he spills his cum right on your pussy. Wooyoung greedily eats up the mixture of your juices and San’s cum, making him moan in response. “Fuck, Noona…”

Seonghwa lets out the prettiest moan you’ve ever heard, lookign down at you as he cums. Streams of his cum land all on your face, and you shut one eye as his cum lands on your nose, forehead, and some on your cheeks and lips.

Swallowing Wooyoung’s cum, you slightly cough as Seonghwa finally lets go of your hair, pulling yourself off Wooyoung’s softening cock. It feels like every nerve in your body has been lit on fire, yet you insatiable need grows deeper.

“God, isn’t she just a good pet?” Wooyoung laughs, finally pulling his tongue away from your pussy. He reaches his hand and rubs your pussy slowly, before giving a slight slap. You let out a yelp and your face is burning a bit red. There were little beads of sweat on your body and forehead, and you’re softly panting.

“Come on, Pet..” Wooyoung pats your back, and you take the hint, getting off his body. Woo slithers out from behind you,  whistling for San to follow. San obeys, leaving with Woyougn towards a backpack int he corner.

Seonghwa pushes you onto the couch gently, licking his bottom lip gently.His fingers gently scooped up the cum that had landed on your face. Seonghwa brings his fingers to your lips. “Lick my fingers clean.” He commands, raising an eyebrow. 

“Yes, Mommy.” You slowly stuck your tongue out, and you gently took his fingers in your mouth, sucking and licking up the cum. He pulls his fingers out to scoop up some more and brings it to you again. You suck them clean again, gazing up at Hwa with faux-innocence in your eyes. Hwa lets out a moan, biting his lip soft. “Oh fuck, look at you. Just the perfect little toy for us.”

He pulls his fingers out, and he immediately dips to his knees, his hands gripping your soft, trembling thighs. You tried to squirm ever so slightly, but Hwa’s grip is firm, his eyes looking up at you. “Won’t you let Mommy have a turn?” He hums, and a smirk forms on his face when you shyly nod.

“What a good girl…” He spreads your legs wide, and immediately buries his face into your pussy. You let out a strangled moan, your back arched against the couch. “M-Mommy!” You cry out. Seonghwa moans between your pussy, your taste sending him to another plane.

“My beautiful girl…” Hwa’s tongue lap over your sensitive clit, giving long strides. Your hands reach and gently grab his hair, more moans spill form your lips.

“M-Mommy… m-mommy..” Your eyes water as the overstimulation sets in, your hips bucking and jolting. He hums, and he buries his tongue inside your pussy. His nose is pressed right against your clit, and his hands move to your hips, guiding you to shamelessly ride his face.

The sound of a click caught your attention, and you looked up, eyes widiening. 

Wooyoung is holding a camera, and San is adjusting the height of a tri-pod stand to be at the perfect angle to catch everything. Wooyoung sets the camera on the stand, his other hand wrapped around his cock..

“I hope you don’t mind if your Noona and Unnie record a special video, don’t you?” Wooyoung sneers slightly, a shiteating grin on his face.

Seonghwa pulls away from your pussy, shushing you softly as you whined once more, the orgasm ripped away from you again. “Don’t worry, my sweet Dove.” He kisses the inside of your thigh, before rising to his feet.

Once the camera was positioned and ready, Wooyoung gave a hungry stare, signaling to me he was ready to devour me.

“Is it ready?” San asks, hands twitching with excitement and anxiety. Wooyoung adjusts the camera one last time, stepping back and nodding. “Yep. It’s ready to go.”

Your face burns a bit red seeing the camera, meant to capture everything.

Wooyoung immediately shimmied out of his pants and boxers, his eyes locked right on you, a feral grin on his face. Seonghwa tsks in disapprovement, crossing his arms. “No, Noona. You have to wait your turn.”

“What?” Wooyoung stops for a moment, his eyebrows furrowed. San perks up for a moment, taking the change to step forward. Seonghwa shook his head. “You too, Unnie.”  Wooyoung couldn’t help but whine, and even San had a bit of a pout, but ultimately, Mommy had the last say in this relationship. San and Wooyoung begrudgingly took their respective seats, sitting on either side of the camera recording.

“Now, my sweet Dove.” Seonghwa looks down at me, a smirk on his face.

You eagerly got in position, lying on the couch, your head on one of the soft pillows for support. His body hovers over yours, his fingers gently tracing and leaving fire in its wake. Seonghwa’s hands grip the back of your knees, pushing your legs apart to make space for his hips. Your legs in response wrapped around his hips. Once secured, he moves to cup your face, leaning in to gently kiss your lips. It was such a tender sweet moment, your arms wrapping around Hwa’s neck. His kiss was sweet, romantic, it made your tummy flutter. He gently pulls away, his eyes looking down at you with so much affection. Hwa then looks to the camera recording with a devious grin. And then-

You let out a strangled moan as Seonghwa suddenly buries his thick cock inside your pussy, your head tilted back against the pillow. It feels so fucking good, your head is spinning from all of the pleasure. Hwa lets out a moan,  trying to cling onto the thread of self restraint, threatening to snap at any moment. You feel so fucking perfect, your pussy wrapped around his cock. He begins to thrust his hips sharply, his cock dragging against your velvety walls, and against your G-spot with each thrust.

Your tits bounce with each thrust, moaning and whining out as Seonghwa thrusts into you relentlessly, the camera catching every slutty noise that you and Hwa make. His balls slap against your ass with each thrust.

“Look at me, Dove.” Seonghwa commands, one of his hands letting go of yoru face to grip the armrest of the sofa. His hand still on your face grab you by your cheek harshly. You moan, tears forming in your eyes as you gaze up at him. Hwa’s gaze is powerful and dominant. 

“You’re such a good pet. I could fuck you and use you all night, if I could.” He moans out, his cock plunging in deeper inside you. “M-Mommy, feels so good, Mommy...” You babble incoherently, and Seonghwa gently cradles half of your face as he thrusts with vigor. Your arms unwrap around Hwa’s neck, your nail accidentally digging into Hwa’s shoulder. He moans with delight, enjoying the sting of your nails on his skin. “Good girl. Keep scratching like that.” 

A soft whiny moan accidentally escapes Wooyoung’s lips, and Seonghwa turns his head to see Wooyoung was gently rubbing the tip of his cock, trying to get a little bit of pleasure. San was biting his lip so hard it was about to bleed, but he wasn’t touching himself. His hands are in fists, resting on his thighs, straining so hard his knuckles are turning white.

Seonghwa tsks at Wooyoung, who stops his motions with a slight whine.

“Noona doesn’t seem to understand that she needs to wait her turn,” Hwa mutters, making direct eye contact with Woo. He squirmed in his seat, clearly hating the fact he was called out. “She will be forced to wait last.” He purrs in your ear, but you’re too cockdrunk to process exactly what he said.

Your hands claw at Hwa’s back desperately, your eyes watering as a bubble forms in your abdomen, the intensity rising with each thrust. “M-Mommy, wanna cum, wanna cum so badly-” You cry out, as Seonghwa returns his gaze to you, the hand on your face moving down to your clit. His fingers gently rubbed the bundle of nerves, and you let out another strangled cry. “Cum for Mommy. Show her just how much you love being her cocksleeve.” He purrs, leaning in and burying his face to your neck, sucking gently and leaving a bright red hickey. He then began peppering kisses all over, his subtle lipstick that he had worn for the show being left on your skin.

“M-Mommy!” You cry out, back arching against the couch, chest pressed against his, as the bubble in your lower abdomen pops, and an explosive orgasm washes over your body, making your brain go utterly white in pure pleasure.

Your walls eagerly clamp and suck his cock in deeper with rhythmic clenches, and Seonghwa’s thrusts get quicker, sloppier, grinding more and more of that sweet pleasure. He pulls himself away from your neck, which is littered with his hickies and kiss marks, and he tosses his head back, letting out the prettiest moan I’ve ever heard. The pleasure that had been forming in the base of his spine has finally tipped over, and with a moan, he cums deep inside, each thurst aimed only to milk more and more of his milky white seed out of him.

This was always Hwa’s favorite sensation. He could never get used to this.

He nearly collapses on top of you, his breathing labored, his arms the only thing holding him up.

Your breathing is also ragged, trying desperately to catch your mind again from such an explosive orgasm. You hadn’t even processed that Seonghwa had pulled out his softening cock, placing a sweet gentle kiss on your lips. Standing to his feet again, he looks down at you, having a bit of a tender, sweet smile. “You did so, so good for your Mommy. Now, it’s time to be good for your Unnie, yes?” He looks over at San. Wooyoung was slouched back against his chair, grumbling something. San perks up, and almost immediately gets up, his eyes gleaming with delight. Finally, his patience will be rewarded! 

He carefully made his way to you, with his thick throbbing cock in full view. Once he was close enough, he leans in, and his big grabby hands were all over your body, squeezing and caressing every curve he could get his hands on.  His hands snake behind you, and he kneads the soft flesh of your butt. San lets out a gutteral moan. He absolutely loves your thick booty, and he swore that just being able to squeeze it could make him cum on the spot. His lips pressed against yours, softly nibbling and biting on your sore, raw bottom lip.

Your body was still trembling and shaking from the pleasure. Your arms found their way wrapped around San’s neck. He lets out a moan between your lips, and his cock begun to grind against your wet folds, letting your juices and Hwa’s cum coat him for preparation.

“You’re so perfect for Unnie.” San moans, his tongue slipping between your lips to play with yours, exploring every crevice he could find. 

“U-Unnie…” You couldn’t help but softly moan, the tip of his cock rubbing against your overly sensitive clit was making your head spin, your body stumbling down the thin thread of overstimulation.

“Let Unnie take care of you. I’ll take such good care of you.” He whispers between your lips, and he breaks the kiss. His big, strong hands gripped your hips, using his strength to manhandle you as he pleases. In an instant, you’re lying on the couch tummy down, your ass up in the air, right up against his cock.

San shuddered softly, taking just a moment to appreciate the sight. His hands immediately grip your butt, squeezing with delight. “Oh look at you..” San moans, his cock twitching, wanting nothing more than to just fuck you senseless already. Your back is arched and he pressed his chest flush against your back. One of his arms is wrapped right around your waist, and the other is right under your head, giving a cushion to rest your head on. You rest your cheek on his large forearm, San gently nuzzling his face to the back of your neck, kissing the skin tenderly.

“Fuck, you’re so good for Unnie. All of this… I love every bit of you, my Angel.” His grip around your waist tightens, letting out a gutteral moan as he thrusts his cock inside your pussy. A moan slips from your lips as his pace is deep and steady, each contact of his hips makes your butt jiggle with recoil. San softly groans in your ear, biting his lip so hard he might accidentally break skin again.

He’s losing his mind. San furrows his eyebrows, trying to focus on his pace. He wants to savor this, he wants to enjoy the feeling of being sheathed inside you, but he can’t. “Your sweet pussy… It’s making Unnie lose her mind…” San chuckles pathetically.

“U-Unnie!” You moan out as San finally begins to pick up his pace, his face buried in the crook of your neck. Each thrust plows deeper inside you, hitting a spot that you swore made you see stars in your eyelids. “F-Fuck, Love.” San moans. “You’re so good for me.”

Through dewy dazed eyes, you could look to your side to see Wooyoung was on his knees, tears formed in his eyes as his lips were wrapped around Seonghwa’s cock. Seonghwa lets out a soft hum, his hand gripping Wooyoung’s dark locks of hair. Slowly pulling Woo off, there was a trail of spit that was connecting Woo’s mouth to Hwa’s tip. Hwa lets go of his hair, caressing his head in a patronizing manner. “Noona needs to be better behaved.” Hwa softly mused, with Woo squirming slightly, a soft whine spilling from his lips.

“Does that turn on Angel?” San moans, his cock still driving like crazy deep inside you. “Y-Yes, Unnie.” You managed to moan as San gripped your hips and began to manhandle you once more. He makes you arch your back further, your butt even higher in the air. This new angle let San drive himself deeper inside youe wet cunt, hitting all your sensitive spots easily with his big fat tip.

“Unnie… U-Unniee…” You let out a cry, a little bit of drool escaping the corners of your mouth, accidentally spilling onto San’s forearm. “Awh, my Angel loves Unnie’s cock so much. She’s losing her mind…” San gently places a deep kiss against your cheek, his hips moving faster, signaling his peak is near.

Your hands reach up to San’s big arm, weakly clutching onto it for any means of support.

His hand on your hip lets go, and his gently run down your abdomen. Finding your clit, your eyes squeezed shut as you let out a strangled cry. “T-Too much, Unnie!-” The gentle rubbing of your overstimulated clit was making your head spin, and lighting your nerves on fire. His thrusts mixed in with this slightly painful pleasure was too much to handle, and you bit down on his forearm, another powerful orgasm washing over your body. Your nails dug into his arms, making San moan so prettily in your ear.

San couldn’t help but groan as you bit and scratched his arm. San loves the way your spasming walls milk him for all he’s worth, and with another moan, his cum spills deep inside, mixing in with Hwa’s cum from before. In a pleasure-filled haze, it barely dawns on you exactly how messy this had become.

San’s breathing is ragged; each little breath and whimper is right up against your ear to hear, his hand gently caressing and soothing your tummy. He mutters sweet praise in your ear. Even as much as San loves fucking you senseless, he loves the sweet tenderness after. He hopes, deep down, that you knew exactly how much he loves you.  

“She’s so good for her Unnie, too.” Seonghwa breaks the tender silence, and San reluctantly lets go, pulling his cock out of your sweet wet pussy, still rock hard, however. He uses his strength one last time to roll me on your back, gently caressing your face with a lovely smile before getting up.

“M-Mommy, please?” Wooyoung then begs, biting his lip as he sits anxiously on the chair. Seonghwa raised his eyebrow, the left one with two studded piercings, looking down at Wooyoung. “I’ll be good for the rest of the night, please?” His eyes are big and pleading, like puppy-dog eyes. For a moment, you almost didn’t recognize this sweet, docile Wooyoung.

“Well, only because you begged so nicely.” Seonghwa croons slightly, and Wooyoung perks up, almost immediately making his way to you.  Almost instantly, you are met with a dominant, needy kiss, his tongue immediately slipping in your mouth. His hands immediately reach for your breasts, massaging and giving a squeeze, moaning filthily in your mouth. Well, so much for docile Wooyoung.

“Noona’s gonna fuck you so good, she’ll make sure you forget everything except us.” Wooyoung pulls away, the look in his eyes screaming nothing but feral. You couldn’t help but let out a whimper as he grips your hips, pulling you to his hips. He grips your thighs, spreading them further and immediately positioning himself. He licks his top row of teeth with a grin as your trembling legs spread, and wrapped around his waist. His cock twitches like crazy against your cunt, eager to plunge in.

“Look at me Noona fucks you dumb.” His hand grips the couch, and you moan out as he thrusts his dick inside, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as each ball of his ladder piercing on his shaft rubs against your velvety walls, the pleasure so intense you’re utterly left speechless. 

His pace is fast and rough, his hips slamming against your hips with each brutal thrust. Wooyoung lets out pornographic noises. Oh god, this was so fucking good.

His cock’s piercings were making your head spin, each rub against your walls made your head go white. All you could do was moan out like a cock-drunk whore. “N-Noona…”You moaned, legs trembling as your entire body began to feel the effects of being overstimulated, wanting to just squirm away from him and his overbearing pace. 

His free hand moves to the smooth column of your neck, and he squeezes. You can feel the cool metal of his rings pressed against your skin, and a strangled moan leaves your lips, eyes rolling to the back of your head. Your hand scramble to grip Wooyoung’s bicep. Wooyoung moans filtihly. He loves watching you come undone like this. The control he has over you makes his cock twitch even more.

His fingers apply pressure at the right spot, which makes little black spots form in your vision. “Noonaa… N-Noona…” You let out a choked cry, and the bubble that had formed in your abdomen without even realizing it exploded. Your orgasm has your head go pure white, your walls clamping desperately around his length, which makes Wooyoung let out the sluttiest moan you’ve ever heard. Your nails dug into his bicep, so hard little droplets of blood spilled. Not soon after, his thrusts get borderline-animalistic, pushing his cock deep against your cas he cums. It was a lot, Wooyoung moaning as his hip sslam against yours, aiming to drop all of it inside you. The cum from the past two rounds finally overflow out and spilling out of your spent, well-used hole.

“Oh fuck, look at that.” Wooyoung moans, his hand finally releasing your neck and peppering kisses all over, biting occasionally. You were gasping for air, vision slightly blurry. You whole body was trembling, legs shaking, chest rising and falling with each ragged breath. Overstimulation has finally set in. Carefully, Wooyoung pulls his cock out, marveling at the sight of all the cum dripping out of your pussy. “Oh fuck, that’s so hot.” He moans in your ear. “You’re such a perfect cumdump.” 

“We have the perfect pet, do we?” Seonghwa hums in agreement, and Wooyoung can’t help but let out a slight grumble, reluctantly letting go of you. He stood up, making space for Seonghwa to take the reigns once more.

Hwa gently walks towards you, pouting slightly at your shivering, used form. “You’re doing so well, baby. Do you think you can do one more round?” Hwa asks, his hand gently reaching out to cup your face. You gazed up at him, eyes dewy with unshed tears. Despite the fact you were extremely overly sensitive and overstimulated…

Hwa smirks as your nod is quick, almost desperately so. “My baby is just a needy whore, drunk on cock, isn’t she?” He purrs, and he takes a seat on the couch, legs spread and his cock in full view. “Come here, my sweet thing.” Hwa croons, and he smirks as you comply, legs trembling as you found yourself situated on his lap, his dick right up against your ass.

“Ride Mommy.” Seonghwa grips your hips, his thumbs gently rubbing the smooth skin. You bit your lip softly and with his help, you slowly lifted your hips, sinking right on his cock. Our moans are in sync, and almost instantly, Seonghwa planted his feet to the tile floor, thrusting up inside me. “Oh, my sweet Dove.” He moans delightfully, loving the way you’re crumbling on top of him.

Moans leave your lips, eyes shut as you tried to focus on the pleasure and not the slight pain from overstimulation and sensitivity.

Suddenly, you  feel a pair of hands push down on your lower back, and your eyes shoot open, Seonghwa’s hands moving from your hips to wrap fully around your body. Your chest is pressed right against his. He halts his pace, his cock still buried deep inside. “Shhh, it’s just Unnie.” Seonghwa hums, his hand rubbing youe back gently.

“Unnie wants a taste.” San’s voice tremble slightly, taking a small bottle of lube, and squirting it on two of his fingers. He has to hand it to himself, he has a lot of patience. That patience is weaning thin.

He grips one of your buttcheeks, revealing your second tight hole, moaning slightly to himself. “Fuck!” He growls, and he smears the lube onto your hole, pushing inside carefully to ensure you were prepped and ready.

“U-Unnie…” You moan, your second hole gently squeezing around his fingers as he gingerly thrusts, San biting his lip as he feels the resistance melting away. His free hand squirts some more of the lube on his cock, pumping himself slowly to ensure he was fully lubriacted. 

Pulling his fingers out of your hole, San grips your buttcheeks again, the thick tip of his cock gently prods at the hole.

“U-Unniee…” You moan out, Seonghwa rubbing gentle circles on your back, whispering words of praise as San pushes his thick lubricated cock inside yout tight hole, slowly thrusting. As the resistance slowly fades away, he takes the opportunity to push more of his cock inside, inch by inch.

You let out a strangled cry as Seonghwa began to thrust upwards again, setting a pace opposite of San’s. Each stroke of their cocks against your overly sensitive walls was making your head spin.

“Hey.” Wooyoung’s bark caught your attention, and with dazed eyes, you could barely process that he’s standing in next to you, his cock right against your lips.

Wooyoung couldn’t help but smirk as you obey without a second thought, slipping his cock between your lips. A loud slutty moan leaves his lips, his hand gripping your hair, and he begins to roughly fuck your face, the tip of his cock hitting the back of your throat with each thrust. You can feel the ridges and bumps of his ladder piercings against your tongue, the sensation driving you insane.

The room was full of slutty noises, all of your bandmates moaning as they used your body as they pleased. San grips your ass even tighter, plunging himself deeper inside your tight ass until he was bottoming out. Seonghwa moans as he thrusts upwards, each thrust rubbing against your swollen g-spot, and the tip hitting the back of your pussy and cervix.

Their cocks were moving agaisnt eachother in sync, which makes you, San and Hwa moan together. Both of them could feel the other’s cock thanks to the thin wall seperating your pussy and ass.

Your moans are muffled by Wooyoung’s cock, still facefucking you without any mercy. Wooyoung looks up to the camera with a devious grin on his face.

“Hey, see this?” He moans out, his free hand pointing at you still sucking him off. “This is your sweet little popstar, a slut backstage for her bandmates. Just a toy to be used by her Noona, Unnie, and Mommy.” Wooyoung grins, and his pace somehow got even more forceful, forcing you to deepthroat him with each thrust. Your nose presses against his pelvis, his slight happy trail right up against your nose.

Your eyes rolled to the back of your head, moans muffled as Seonghwa’s and San’s pace got rougher, utterly rearranging your insides. Your orgasm arrived swiftly and messily so, your juices squirted all on Seonghwa’s cock, the mess spilling down your thighs and on his body.

Fuck. Seonghwa wished he could have saw that.

Fuck. San is so grateful he saw that, moaning out at the filthy sight before him.

“Oh fuck, good girl.” Seonghwa moans out, thrusting upward as he shoots his cum deep inside, some of it spilling out and escaping the corners. A milky white ring forms around the base of his cock, each clench of your walls milking hin further. 

San lets out a gutteral moan, spilling his cum deep inside your ass. He shudders, stalling himself insidejust to savor the sensation of your velvety walls clenching around him, milking him dry.

Woo lets out a slutty moan as he tilts his head back, finally dumping all of his cum deep inside your mouth. He stills his hips still deep inside, the cum spilling out of the corners of your mouth. 

Tears of pure bliss were streaming down your face, and Wooyoung’s thumb gently rubs your tears away as you swallow his seed, coughing slightly as he pulls your face off his cock. God, you looked so sexy like that. “Good girl, such a good girl.” Wooyoung’s hand cups the side of your face, rubbing your cheek in a calming manner.

Seonghwa rubs gentle circles on your back, and San grabs your waist, massaging the muscles on your lower back. You gently closed your eyes, resting your head on Hwa’s chest, taking deep breaths, and just savoring the afterglow.

Finally, San slowly pulls his softening cock out of of you, some of his milky white seed spilling from your used ass. Seonghwa lets go of your shivering body, and grips your hips to help you off his cock, the past few rounds accidentally spilling out as a result. San immediately wraps his arms around you, pulling you close to his chest. You in response raised your arms, andweakly wrapped around him, letting San hold you close as Woo and Hwa began to put their clothes on. You watched as Wooyound slipped on his boxers and jeans, zipping himself up like this had never happened. But of course, you know what happened. Seonghwa puts on his long-sleeved shirt, fixing his chains and jewelry. Wooyoung then begins to tear down the camera. These two had a quite a bit to clean up before leaving on the tour bus.

“How are you holding up?” San interrupts your train of thought, looking down at you. “We weren’t too much, were we?” He whispers , concern etched on his features as he gently peppering kisses on your cheek. You couldn’t help but giggle slightly at his affection.

“I’m fine, promise. I feel exhausted but satisfied,” You reply earnestly, looking up at San with a dazed smile. You rest your head on his shoulder, letting San grip tighten around you.

“That’s good.” San hums slightly, and he gently sets you back down on the couch, Wooyoung half-hazardly tossing San his clothes. Wooyoung gently handed you yours. “Get dressed, (Name). Manager is a bit pissed at us…” Wooyoung rubs the back of his neck with an awkward chuckle. 

San stands up to put his clothes on, and he looks down, chuckling slightly as he watches you struggle to put on your clothes, extremely sleepy and sore. He doesn’t blame you. A protective instinct washes over him, and he reaches out to you “Here, let me help you…” He kneels, and he helps you get your bralette and tank top on your body, placed nice and snug.

He furrowed his eyebrows as he saw the mess still leaking out of you, clicking his tongue. “That won’t do… You’ll ruin your pretty panties..” A mischievous grin forms on his face, and his big hand grips your hips, spreading your legs a bit wider. You let out a tiny whimper, as he places his face right next to your swollen wet cunt, the milky essence of what they’ve done earlier in full display.

San looked up into your eyes, waiting silently for a confirmation, and when you gave him a nod, he immediately leaned in, his tongue pressed right against your entrance.

A soft moan spills from your lips as San greedily eats the cum out of your swollen, overstimulated pussy. His eyebrows furrowed, eyes shut as he devoured your pussy, his spit mixing with your juices making an even bigger mess.

“U-Unnie, can’t… Too much...” You managed to whine out, your hand gently gripping his dark locks of hair. 

Finally, San pulls himself away from your pussy, and immediately pushes his lips to yours, the initial shock allowing him to push his tongue into your mouth.

All of the cum he collected gets pushed over to your mouth, plus the taste of your juices were making your head spins and setting your body aflame.

San pulls away, softly gasping for air, a mischievous kitty-like grin on his face. “The mess is all cleaned up now.”

You swallowed up all the cum, and you slightly roll your eyes, a smile on your face, and a soft giggle leaves your lips.

“Come on, guys. Hongjoong is pissed.” Wooyoung whines, in his hand the microphone, the condom already discarded. He’s twirling your buttplug in his hands, making your face flush. “Woo, put that away!” You whine, burying your hands in your face. He laughs but obeys, slipping it into his pocket.

Hwa has a gentle smile, watching the lighthearted banter between you. Moments like these were always his favorite.

With San’s help, you finally get fully dressed and ready to go. He lifts you in his strong arms, carrying you out of the practice room.

All four of the bandmates make their way deeper backstage, a pissed off Hongjoong waiting for them by the exit.

“You guys need to hurry and get on the bus now,” Hongjoong barks, pointing at the tour bus that was teal blue. It was running and ready to go, the door wide open.

“Sorry! We got a bit caught up with fans.” Hwa replies, his voice as smooth as honey. Hongjoong grumbles something under his breath and walks to the bus. The four follow after, gently walking up the steps inside.

The inside of the tour bus was always cool, the AC always on full blast. It oftentimes smelled like a mixture of lavender and sweat.

There were six seats in the front near the driver’s seat, and the bunk beds were towards the back of the bus, alongside two restrooms and showers. It was rather cozy, a place you all had become very accustomed to. Cramped? Most definitely.

Tonight, however, your bandmates didn’t feel like splitting up and sleeping in the usual bunk beds.

Seonghwa pulls the couch out, creating a bed big enough to harbor all of you. Wooyoung lights up as he sees this, quickly rushing to his cubby to grab his pajamas. “Everyone needs to hurry! I want cuddles!” He barks, immediately rushing into the bathroom for a quick shower and skin care.

A few moments later, Wooyung emerges, his black dark hair damp and messy, wearing just a black tank top and plaid pajama pants. His face was bare and smooth, all of the makeup removed.

Seonghwa chuckles slightly at Wooyoung practically pushing San into one of the empty shower rooms, whining up a storm. “Here, Dove, let me help you.” Legs still sore from before, Seonghwa helped you get into the bathroom, offering you his arm like a gentleman.

The shower water was just hot enough, and you sighed softly, body leaning into Seonghwa’s frame. He looks down at you and hums softly, gently massaging some shampoo into your scalp.

“I love you,” Hwa whispers in your ear, a sweet, tender smile on his face. His fingers gently massage the shampoo in your head, and you let out a sigh, closing your eyes as you embrace the soft, tender moment. “I love you too. I don’t know what I’d do without you or the others.” You confess back. 

He smiles, gently rinsing the shampoo off your hair. Once your hair was rinsed, he gently raked some conditioner into the bottom half of your hair, getting any tangles out.

Seonghwa places a chaste kiss on your cheek, and your can feel his smile beneath your skin. “You and the others… Are truly the light in my life.” He whispered, turning off the shower once all of the soap suds were washed off your bodies. 

With his help,you get out of the shower, and Seonghwa sits you down on the toilet seat, using a blowdryer to help you dry your hair. You couldn’t help but giggle as he brushed out your hair until it is all nice and dry.

After you and Hwa both got dressed, brushed your teeth, and done your skincare, It was finally time for bed. 

“Let’s go.” Seonghwa hums, gently holding you close as we walk out of the bathroom, the light turning off automatically.

Wooyoung was lying on the plush couch bed, his eyes looking up to see you, and he grins. “Come on! It’s bedtime!” He whines, and you can’t help but chuckle, making your way into the bed with him. Almost immediately, Wooyoung wraps his arms around you, pulling you tight to his body.

“Don’t hog her,” San whines slightly, carrying a pile of blankets and pillows in his arms. He unfolds a giant comforter, placing it over your and Woo’s bodies. Woo grins, burying his face into the crook of your neck. “Well then, you two better hurry.”

Seonghwa watches with a certain fondness in his eyes, watching San get under the blankets, his arms wrapped around your waist.  San and Woo bicker slightly, causing you to roll your eyes ever so slightly. With his long, deft fingers, Seonghwa turns off the lights in the tour bus, and only the soft glow of the overhead lights in cyan color became the only source of light here.

Carefully, Seonghwa made his way on the bed, snuggling in right behind you, his arms around your waist. San grumbles something about not having space, and Woo whines when San pushes Woo to sneak in between him and you.

After a lot of complaining and shifting, the position has changed to you on your back, Wooyoung hugging you  and resting his head on your chest, semi squishing you. San was to your left, arms wrapped around you, Seonghwa on the right.

The bus finally began to make its move, driving the band back to home town. The tour was finished, and you were all heading home.

A few moment stuff have passed, and Seonghwa and San were already knocked out. San was nuzzling his face into your neck, Seonghwa gently holding your hand in his. Wooyoung, however, was still up, his big eyes looking up at you. It was a bit difficult to keep up this staring contest, your eyelids were getting heavy.

“Hey, (name), I need to tell you something.” He whispers, like he’s afraid to wake up San and Hwa.

“What?” You whispered back, and passing car headlights that shone in the window illuminated his face for just a moment, and you could see his sly grin. “I sent your videos to Mingi.” He responds, his finger trailing along your arm.

Mingi… Mingi was the fifth member, who had to go on hiatus for a broken wrist but has been better since about a few days ago. Your heart clenches at the reminder that your fifth guy has been in so much pain all by himself. At least his wrist is healed now, and Mingi can practice with you guys as soon as you are back home.

“What did he say?” You softly mused, and Wooyoung grinned wider.

“...He said that when you get home, Princess is going to devour you whole.”

[kirilunimimi]

the roommate

part one: the lease

pairing: roommate! san x fem! reader

synopsis: a mutual friend suggests you and choi san, of all people live together

wc: 1.2k

tags: slow burn, roommates, enemies to lovers, angst, forced proximity, eventual romance

etc: this fic is brought to life in a conversation i had with a close friend lol. this fic is going to span a few chapters, so be aware of that… no regular updates, but hopefully i can get them out fairly soon. as always, this isn’t proofread!

next part

The second Seonghwa brought it up, you both shut it down. 

“You two should room together.”

You nearly choke on your drink. “Absolutely not.”

He, on the other hand, doesn’t even look up from his phone. “Yea, no thanks.”

Seonghwa blinks at you both, clearly confused by the immediate and mutual rejection. “Okay, well you didn’t have to say it like that.”

It’s not that the idea in itself is inherently terrible—logistically, it makes sense. Seonghwa knows you’re both struggling to get to the final place before the semester starts, and the rental market is a nightmare. But the problem is that Choi San is insufferable. 

Your first impression of him had been nothing short of hellish. Maybe it was the way he barely spared you a glance, as if you weren’t worth more than a second of his time. Or the way that he was just a little too blunt, like he couldn’t be bothered to soften his words for the sake of basic social norms. Or maybe it was how, in that first conversation, he had looked at you—sharp, and knowing, as if he had already decided you weren’t worth the effort. Whatever it was, it grated on your nerves immediately. And judging by the way San hadn’t exactly extended the welcome mat either, the feeling was mutual. 

The first conversation still lingers in your mind. You had met at some house party Seonghwa dragged you to, already regretting your decision the moment you stepped inside. San had been standing near the drinks, eyes scanning the room like he had a better place to be. You had barely introduced yourself before he cocked his head, and asked, “You always act this strange, or just tonight?”

It was meant to be a joke. Maybe. But it sent your irritation through the roof. “Wow. Charming.”

San has just smirked, sipping his drink. “Didn’t say I was. Just curious.” With that he strolled away, but not before you could hear him mutter the words what a weirdo under his breath. 

And that was the beginning of your mutual distaste. 

So no, you are not going to be his roommate. 

A month ago, you would have laughed at the idea of living with San. Back then, you had standards. Preferences. Hopes. A list of potential roommates who weren’t actively infuriating. But as time passed and each option fell through—rents too high, locations too inconvenient, roommates too unreliable—you started to realize that standards were a luxury you couldn’t afford anymore. 

It has become a pattern: refreshing apartment listings every morning, scrolling through rental groups, sending out hopeful messages only to be met with astronomical prices or ghosting. At first, you were picky. Then you were just desperate. 

Seonghwa had been the first to suggest it, of course. More than once. And you ignored him every time, even when the options were thinning, even when you knew you were starting to run out of time. But after yet another overpriced studio slipped through your fingers once more, you made the mistake of asking, “So… has he found a place yet?”

Seonghwa, always the opportunist, grinned through the phone. “Oh? Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

You grimaced. “Just answer the question.”

“No, he hasn’t. And you should talk to him before he does.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms. “Why do you care so much?”

You could hear him take a quick sip of his coffee. “Because you two are both stubborn brats who need a place to live, and I’m tired of watching you struggle out of sheer pride.”

You wanted to argue, but… he wasn’t wrong. The idea still made you cringe though. Living with San? The same San who once told you to just get over it when you complained about a professor’s impossible grading during a group hangout. The same San who somehow always knew exactly what buttons to push and how without even much of a thought. 

Still, the reality of your situation was pressing down on you. 

You really, really didn’t want to. But practicality won out over pride, and that was how you now found yourself sending an excruciatingly awkward text. You wondered if it sounded desperate. 

you still looking for a place?

It took him two hours to respond. 

yeah. why?

You stared at your phone for a long moment, weighing your options. Every bone in your body wanted to tell him never mind, but you didn’t have that luxury anymore. 

i have an apartment lead. two bedrooms. rent isn’t awful. want to check it out?

San’s reply came quicker this time. 

sure. when? 

And just like that, your fate was sealed. It felt like you were making a pact with the devil. 

The apartment was fine… fine.

Nothing notable. Nothing terrible. Just, fine. 

The landlord was a woman in her late forties with minimal patience. She led the two of you through a quick tour. The kitchen that should really have been labeled as a kitchenette, was small, but functional. The bathroom had seen better days, but was clean enough. The bedrooms were on opposite sides of the unit—an unexpected blessing. If you were really going to do this, at least you wouldn’t have to hear him late at night in the next room. 

San, of course, was impossible to read. He wandered through the apartment with his hands remaining in his pockets, gaze flicking over each room with mild disinterest. Meanwhile, you were running frantic calculations in your head. The price wasn’t awful, the location was decent, and most importantly, this was your last option, you were out. 

"So?" the landlord asked, tapping her pen against the clipboard she held. "You in or not?"

You opened your mouth, ready to say yes, only to hesitate when San finally spoke. “Is there parking?”

You shot him a quick look. That was his question? Not about utilities, not about security deposits, but… parking?

The landlord sighed. “Street parking only. First come, first serve.”

San only hummed, nodding slightly before falling silent again. 

The landlord turned to you. “And you? Any questions?”

A thousand, but nothing would change the fact that you desperately needed this apartment. You shook your head. “No, I’m good, thank you.”

She clapped her hands together. "Great. Lease starts next week. If you’re both serious, we can do paperwork now."

There was a beat of silence. Then San shrugged. "Fine by me."

And that was it. 

So there you sat at the landlord's desk, pen in hand, staring at the contract in front of you. San was already in the midst of signing his copy, cool and composed as ever, like this was just another task to check off on his to-do list. Meanwhile, your stomach was knotting and twisting. This was real. You were actually doing this. 

You glanced at him, half-expecting some last-minute hesitation, some crack in his indifferent facade. But he just slid his finished paperwork back across the desk, tapping his fingers idly against the table, tapping his fingers idly against the table as he waited for you to finish. 

With a deep breath, you signed your name. 

The landlord smiled. “Congratulations. Hope you two get along.”

Neither of you responded. 

San tucked his copy of the lease into his bag, turning to you with an unreadable expression yet again. “Guess we’re doing this.”

You exhaled sharply, gripping your set of keys tightly. “Guess so.”

You already had a headache. 

[kirilunimimi]

「 Daddy's Summer Fling - J.YH 」

"So soft, baby… wonder if you’d shiver like this if I touched you somewhere else..”

~"Dilf Yunho x Daughter's best friend. She visits her friends place for the summer where her dad will be too. Reader is attracted to him, things ensue, ~ anon

pairing: dilf!yunho x fem student!reader

genre: 18+, filth

summary: your friend has a wonderful idea of asking you to spend the summer at her father’s vacation house... little did you know you'd not only spend the nights there.. but also nights with him.

wc: 9.9k

warnings: dilf!yunho, college student! reader, age gap (about 18 years - 20/38), virgin reader, daddy kink, size kink, praise & slight drgradation, overstimulation, manhandling, voyeurism/exhibitionism (semi-public/public touches), slight corruption kink, slight oral fixation (finger and cock sucking), light breath play (choking), face fucking, cum eating, fingering, dacryphilia, praise kink, cockwarming, breeding kink, marking, backshots, huge cock!yunho, pain kink, possessiveness, unprotected (boo use protection irl!!), completely consensual, for sureeee forgot something, might edit later.

Author's Notes: this was insaneeee to write... sorry anon for taking me so long, I had to write it as well as possible and well- it has almost 10k words. whoops. I hope you enjoy this lil (metaphorically speaking) fic and if you do don't hesitate to dm me or send me an anon ask with your thoughts! ♡

Reminder that reblogs, comments and likes help lots with my engagement and I will forever be grateful for each of you ♡

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction and does not represent the reality of the member in any way.

“You should come with me to visit my dad over this summer,” your best friend had suggested one lazy afternoon, sprawled out on your dorm room bed. “He has this amazing summer house by the lake—huge place, so we’ll have all the space we need to chill. Plus, I barely get to see him during the school year, so I try to spend as much time there as I can.”

You had hesitated at first, not because you didn’t want to go, but because it felt… intimate. Staying at her father’s house for an extended period wasn’t like crashing at her dorm or her mom’s place back in the city. It was different. Personal. But when she assured you he wouldn’t mind—that, in fact, he’d be happy to have you over—you agreed.

And now, as you stepped out of your parents’ car, the summer heat blanketing your skin, you were beyond grateful you’d said yes.

The house was beautiful—exactly how she had described it. Rustic yet modern, tucked away in nature with a view of the lake in the distance. But none of that held your attention. No, your focus was entirely on the man standing in the courtyard.

He had his back to you at first, broad and impossibly strong, the muscles in his shoulders shifting as he raised a hand to wipe sweat from his brow. His tanned skin gleamed under the sunlight, glistening with sweat as he worked, the flex of his biceps hypnotizing as he adjusted something on the wooden fence. Your throat went dry. He was gorgeous—tall, built like a dream, dark hair damp and tousled. Holy fuck.

“Who is that?” you blurted out before you could stop yourself, eyes locked onto him.

Your best friend glanced at where you were staring, then grinned. “Oh, that’s my dad.”

Your stomach dropped. Her dad. As in, her father. The man you had just been shamelessly ogling like he was carved from marble. Heat flooded your face so fast it made you lightheaded. You tried to snap your gaze away, but it was too late—he had turned, sharp brown eyes locking onto yours.

And just like that, you were even more screwed. Because now that you could see his face, he was somehow even hotter. A sharp jawline, high cheekbones, a hint of stubble across his chin. His lips were full, slightly parted as he caught his breath from whatever work he’d been doing. His gaze flickered over you once, quick but assessing, before settling on your best friend.

You forced yourself to look away, heart hammering. This was going to be a long summer.

You managed to shake off your embarrassment—at least on the surface—as your best friend ran up to hug her father. He greeted her with a warm smile, wrapping an arm around her before turning his attention to you.

“So you’re the infamous best friend I’ve been hearing about,” he said, his voice smooth, deep, and effortlessly confident. “Nice to finally meet you.”

Infamous? Your best friend had talked about you to him? You swallowed hard, forcing a polite smile as you shook the hand he offered. His grip was firm, fingers warm and slightly rough from whatever work he’d been doing. “Nice to meet you too, Mr. Jeong.”

He let out a short chuckle, shaking his head. “Just Yunho is fine. ‘Mr. Jeong’ makes me feel ancient.”

You nodded, cheeks still warm. Yunho. Just Yunho. That was going to be a problem.

After unloading your bags and settling into the guest room, you spent the afternoon exploring the property. The house was just as stunning inside as it was outside—spacious, open, with large windows that overlooked the lake. As the sun dipped lower, the heat softened, replaced by the golden glow of early evening.

That’s how you found yourself outside, sitting on the wooden steps of the back porch, watching the water shimmer under the setting sun. Your best friend had gone to take a call inside, leaving you alone with your thoughts. Or at least, you thought you were alone.

“You like it here?”

You nearly jumped at the deep voice, turning to find Yunho standing nearby. He had changed out of his sweaty work clothes, now in a loose button-up with the top two buttons undone, sleeves rolled up to his forearms. He looked even better like this—casual, effortless.

“Yeah,” you said quickly, gripping your knees to keep your hands from fidgeting. “It’s beautiful.”

He hummed, stepping forward to lean against the railing. “I try to come out here as much as I can. It’s quiet, peaceful. Good place to get away from everything.”

You nodded, watching the water ripple as a breeze passed through. “I can see why.”

There was a comfortable silence before he spoke again. “You seem a little nervous.”

You stiffened. Was it that obvious? “I—no,” you lied. “Just… new place, new environment.”

His lips twitched, not quite a smirk but close. “Well, make yourself at home. You’re welcome here.”

The way he said it—low, slow, with that smooth voice of his—made something stir inside you. You could feel his eyes on you, heavier than before, like he was actually looking at you now. Not just as his daughter’s best friend, but as something else.

You swallowed, shifting under his gaze. “Thanks.”

Another beat of silence. Then he chuckled, shaking his head as he looked back at the lake. “You remind me of someone.”

You tilted your head. “Who?”

A pause. Then, quietly, “Me.”

That threw you off. “You?”

He nodded. “When I was younger, I was like that too. A little quiet, a little unsure. Always overthinking instead of just… enjoying things.”

Your brows furrowed slightly. “You don’t seem like that now.”

“I’m not,” he admitted. “Life has a way of changing you.”

His voice had dropped, just a little. And you couldn’t help but wonder what had changed him—what had made him go from the person he used to be to the man standing in front of you now. For the first time, you weren’t just seeing him as your best friend’s father. You were seeing him.

Before you could respond, the screen door creaked open, and your best friend came rushing out, practically bouncing on her feet.

“Oh! I just had the best idea!” she announced, completely oblivious to the subtle shift in energy between you and her father. “Let’s go swimming! The lake is so warm this time of year, and the sun’s setting—it’s perfect.”

You blinked, still processing your conversation with Yunho, but she was already grabbing your hand. “Come on, you brought your swimsuit, right? Let’s change and go!”

You barely had a chance to glance at Yunho before she was dragging you inside.

Minutes later, you found yourself standing at the edge of the dock, the lake stretching endlessly in front of you. The last of the sunlight cast everything in a golden glow, the water lapping gently at the wooden beams beneath your feet.

Your best friend was already diving in, splashing as she resurfaced with a grin. “Come on! It’s perfect!”

Taking a breath, you stepped forward, adjusting the strings of your bikini before following her in. The water was warmer than expected, smooth and inviting as it wrapped around your skin. You surfaced with a gasp, wiping droplets from your lashes.

And then you saw him. Yunho had just emerged from the house, walking toward the dock with an easy, unbothered stride. He had changed into black swim trunks, the drawstrings hanging loose over his hips. But what really got you—what made your breath hitch—was his bare torso.

You’d thought he was attractive before. But now? Seeing him like this, all toned muscle and golden skin, veins running down his forearms, droplets of water from his damp hair trailing down his chest—he looked like he belonged on the cover of some magazine.

And then his gaze flicked to yours.

It was barely a second, just a glance as he stepped onto the dock, but it sent something sharp through you. His eyes lingered—just a little too long—before he turned away, stretching his arms overhead like he hadn’t just knocked the air from your lungs.

You quickly ducked your head, hoping your face wasn’t as red as it felt.

A loud splash pulled you from your thoughts as Yunho finally joined you both in the water. He swam easily, his strokes controlled, smooth, before he surfaced near you. The lake was big, but suddenly it felt too small, his presence swallowing the space between you.

Your best friend, oblivious as ever, floated on her back a few feet away, humming to herself.

And that’s when it started.

The first touch was barely anything—just a brush of his arm against yours as he swam past you. But it was deliberate. The second came when he surfaced beside you again, his hand grazing your back under the water. You froze, lips parting slightly, but he didn’t even look at you. Like nothing had happened.

Then, when you shifted to float on your back, your stomach grazing the surface, something firm, warm, pressed again against your lower back—his hand. Just for a second. A silent, lingering touch that sent heat spiraling through your body.

He was testing you.

And then, just when you thought you were imagining it all, when you thought maybe you were overreacting—

His fingers brushed your hand again. More lingering.. A featherlight touch, fleeting but unmistakable. Your breath caught in your throat.

But when you turned to look at him, his expression was unreadable. Calm. Unbothered. Like he hadn’t just crossed a line neither of you could take back.

You tried to focus on the water, on the way the golden ripples shimmered around you, on anything but the weight of Yunho’s fingers barely grazing your thigh under the surface.

But you couldn’t. Not when your body felt hot despite the cool lake, not when your mind kept replaying every subtle touch, every lingering glance. And definitely not when you could feel him watching you.

Yunho let out a quiet hum, tilting his head slightly. "You’re not very good at hiding it, sweetheart. The way your eyes drop to my hands, my arms… like you’re imagining them all over you."

And then, just when you thought you had a grip on yourself, Yunho moved closer. Not much—just enough that you could feel the water shift between you, enough that his shoulder brushed yours again, his skin warm even in the cool lake.

He was too close. But not close enough. You exhaled shakily. “You’re making it worse.”

His lips twitched, gaze dropping briefly—to your lips?—before meeting your eyes again. “Am I?” It wasn’t fair. The way he spoke, the way he looked at you now—like he knew exactly what he was doing, like he was enjoying it.

But you weren’t innocent either. Not when you found yourself leaning in just slightly, not when you let your fingers skim the surface of the water between you, almost—almost—brushing against his chest before pulling away.

His jaw tightened, just for a second.

“Careful, baby.” he murmured.

It wasn’t a warning. It was a challenge.

Your breath hitched, fingers curling against your palm. You wanted to push. You wanted to see just how much you could pull from him, how far he’d let you go before he finally cracked.

But before you could say anything, before you could cross a line you weren’t sure you could come back from—

“Alright, I’m freezing,” your best friend announced, completely shattering the moment as she waded toward the dock. “I’m gonna make some hot cocoa. You guys coming?”

You inhaled sharply, blinking as if snapping out of a trance. Yunho was still watching you, his expression unreadable, but he said nothing as he turned away, swimming toward the dock with effortless strokes.

You hesitated, heart still racing, before following after them.

The sun was dipping lower now, painting the sky with streaks of orange and purple. Your best friend had already climbed onto the dock, shaking herself off with a giggle.

“Hurry up, you two!” she called, turning around. “The sun’s almost gone, and I want marshmallows and hot cocoa before it’s dark!”

You barely had time to respond before she disappeared inside the house.

But you didn’t need to.

You could feel Yunho beside you, his presence undeniable, heavy in the air like a magnet pulling you closer.

Without saying a word, you both followed your best friend back into the warmth of the house. The kitchen was cozy, and your best friend was already pulling out skewers and marshmallows from the cupboard, humming happily to herself.

The porch door opened wide, and she called to you both, “You guys coming? The fire pit’s waiting!”

Yunho glanced over his shoulder at you before stepping outside. The heat in his gaze was unmistakable now. It made your pulse skip, and you tried to focus on anything other than the way he’d looked at you in the lake.

Your best friend immediately took a seat by the fire, poking the marshmallow onto the end of her skewer with an exaggerated flourish. You sat beside her, glancing at Yunho, who was standing slightly behind you. His eyes flicked to yours for the briefest moment, but you couldn’t tell if it was intentional or not. The heat of his gaze, as if he was searching for something on your face. Without thinking, you grabbed a marshmallow from the bag and stuck it onto the skewer. Your hands shook slightly, but you tried to ignore it.

The fire crackled, snapping in the still air, and your best friend shifted, glancing between you and Yunho with a teasing smile. “You guys are awfully quiet. Someone’s gotta talk! Tell me you’ve been getting along.” Your best friend was too chill for your liking.. maybe because her father had her young and had a closer bond with him but, you couldn’t shake off the feeling of being wanted by him. That feeling only made it worse for you all day.

You forced a smile, but your mind was elsewhere. Your thoughts kept drifting to the way his hand had brushed against yours in the water, how close he had been when you were swimming. How every interaction between you felt charged with something unspoken.

As the marshmallows started to brown over the fire, you felt Yunho step closer. You didn’t look up at him, but you could feel his presence. The way his body loomed over yours, the subtle shift in his posture that told you he was right there—watching.

The fire crackled, the only sound between you, and you could feel his breath just behind your ear.

"You're so easy to mess with, baby. One little touch and you're already breathless”, Yunho murmured, his voice low and barely audible over the crackling flames. “It’s hard to focus when you’re right here…”

Your breath caught in your throat. Did he really just say that?

Your best friend, oblivious, leaned forward, blowing air at her marshmallow to cool it down. “What are you two talking about? Are y’all gossiping about me, huh? I’m dying to know!”

You nearly jumped when Yunho shifted his weight, stepping away just slightly. But the damage had been done—the tension between you two was now palpable.

You glanced at him quickly, just enough to catch him looking back at you, a hint of something dangerous in his eyes.

You took a deep breath and shoved the marshmallow into the flames, letting it burn just a little too much. It was easier to focus on the heat of the fire than the heat of Yunho’s gaze. But you knew, deep down, that the fire wasn’t the only thing burning between you.

The marshmallows were finished, the sweet gooey centers burnt just enough to give them that perfect crisp, and your best friend was happily munching away, occasionally giving you a sly look.

You tried to ignore the fire that was burning between you and Yunho. You could feel him, the heat of his body next to yours as you both stared at the flickering flames.

You didn't dare look at him directly. The air felt too heavy, and your best friend didn’t notice—too distracted by the phone in her hand.

“Hold on,” she said, a playful smile tugging at her lips. “It’s my boyfriend. I’ll just be a sec.” She took the call, stepping away from the fire pit for some privacy.

You were left in a silence with Yunho. He didn’t move at first, simply letting the sound of the crackling fire fill the space. His gaze didn’t leave you, though. You could feel it, like a weight on your skin, every subtle look making your breath hitch.

A few moments passed before Yunho shifted slightly closer to you.

“You know,” he started, voice hushed but laced with that trademark smoothness, “you look stunning tonight.” Your pulse jumped. You barely managed to glance at him, catching the subtle tilt of his head.

You didn’t respond immediately, unsure of how to form words when your body was begging you to lean into the heat of his touch. But you had to. “Thanks,” you mumbled, fingers gripping your cup just a little too tightly.

The corner of his lips quirked up into that teasing smile, and your heart thudded in your chest. He reached out, his fingers brushing gently against your thigh, just the lightest contact—but enough to make your breath catch.

He didn’t take his hand away, though, leaving it there as if it belonged. His touch was light, almost like a warning, and every inch of you wanted more.

"You're not fooling me," he murmured, his voice low. "All those little touches, all those innocent looks. You knew exactly what you were doing, sweetheart."

You swallowed, feeling the heat surge through your veins. "Is that so?"

Yunho’s thumb traced a small circle on the inside of your thigh, slow, deliberate. You could barely breathe. The tension between you two was excruciating, and the only thing you could do was sit there, trying to keep yourself together, trying not to collapse under the pressure of his touch.

"So soft, baby… wonder if you’d shiver like this if I touched you somewhere else..”,he said softly, his breath warm against your ear. He saw his daughter coming back, but before he moved his hand away, he reassured you, his voice low, “I'll make it up to you later.”

Before you could respond, your best friend walked back in, phone still pressed to her ear.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll be there in twenty minutes,” she said, her voice filled with excitement. “Okay, love you, see you soon!”

She hung up, and you couldn’t help but feel a twinge of disappointment. Yunho removed his hand, but you could still feel the faint heat of his touch, like a lingering burn against your skin.

“Looks like someone’s got plans,” Yunho said, glancing at you and then at his daughter. You raised an eyebrow, trying to play it cool.

“Yeah, I’m going to my boyfriend’s place for a couple of hours. He just got into town, and I promised I’d see him while he’s here.” She smiled at Yunho, her eyes bright with excitement.

You felt a little knot form in your stomach, not because you weren’t happy for her, but because now it was just you and Yunho. Alone.

“Of course,” Yunho replied smoothly, his voice warmer now, more amused. “Go ahead, sweetheart. Have fun.”

You watched your best friend rush off, her steps quick as she headed toward the door, ready to leave. The moment she stepped outside, the door closing behind her, the tension in the room shifted.

The marshmallows had all been roasted and eaten, the warmth from the fire still lingering in the air as you and Yunho began cleaning up the plates. Your best friend promised she’d be back in an hour.

Yunho's gaze lingering just a little too long, his fingers brushed against yours as you handed him a plate, and you tried to ignore the spark that shot up your arm.

“So,” you said, trying to keep your voice steady, “do you always roast marshmallows this late?”

Yunho chuckled, his eyes glinting in the soft kitchen light. “Only when the company’s worth it.”

You glanced up at him, feeling your heart skip a beat at the intensity in his eyes. But before you could reply, his phone buzzed.

He picked it up, swiping the screen with one hand while keeping his other hand casually resting on the counter.

“Everything okay?” you asked, casually, though the beat of your heart had quickened.

Yunho nodded, though his smile had turned a little more amused. “Yeah, just got a message from my daughter.”

He read through it and then let out a little chuckle, his tone warm but with an edge of something else. “She’s staying at her boyfriend’s tonight.”

“That so?” you said, trying to play it cool, even as the weight of his words settled over you.

He put the phone down, his eyes flicking up to meet yours. The atmosphere had shifted, the air between you suddenly thick with tension. “Guess we’re alone now.”

Your breath hitched, your pulse quickening in response to his proximity.

You swallowed hard, feeling your heart race. “Guess so,” you whispered, trying to keep your cool, though every inch of you was on edge.

He leaned even closer, his body just a hair's breadth away from yours. You could feel the heat radiating off him, making your skin burn.

“Well,” Yunho said, his voice low, his lips brushing against your ear as he spoke. “I think we can find something to do with all this time, don’t you?”

He didn’t take his eyes off you as he stepped closer, his movements deliberate, slow—each step calculated, bringing him nearer to you.

Your breath caught in your throat as you instinctively took a small step back, but the moment you did, he closed the distance, forcing you to press your back against the cool, hard wall behind you.

He didn’t touch you at first. He simply stood there, watching you, his eyes dark and intent, a slight smirk playing at the corner of his lips. His chest rose and fell with each breath, his gaze unwavering.

Yunho murmured, his voice a low, teasing drawl. "You’ve been looking at me like you want something, sweetheart. Why don’t you tell me?"

You couldn’t tear your eyes away from him, your chest tightening. It was like he was daring you to run—daring you to pull away from him—but you couldn’t. Your body wanted him too much.

“I…” you trailed off, unsure of what to say, your heart pounding in your chest.

His smile widened just a little, a flicker of something dark in his gaze as he stepped closer again, pushing you further back against the wall.

His hand, warm and confident, landed on your hip, his fingers lightly brushing your skin. He gave you a moment to adjust, to feel him there, testing the waters.

You didn’t pull away. You didn’t want to. In fact, your body seemed to lean into the touch, craving more, eager for him to push further.

He noticed. The slight shift of your body, the way your chest fluttered with every breath. His eyes darkened, and with a sharp inhale, his hand moved up to your waist, his fingers grazing the side of your ribs.

“Tell me,” he said, his voice low, barely above a whisper. “Are you okay with this?”

Your heart raced, your mind spinning. You wanted to speak, to tell him yes, but all you could do was nod, too lost in the way his hand made you feel.

Yunho’s gaze flickered to your lips for a split second before it returned to your eyes. "That’s not enough for you, is it, baby?”

You didn’t need to say anything. The way you leaned into him, the way your breath hitched, the way your body trembled under his touch said it all.

Without warning, he cupped your chin with his other hand, forcing your head up just slightly as his lips crashed against yours. The kiss was soft at first, his mouth teasing, coaxing, exploring with the gentlest pressure. You melted into it, your hands slipping up to rest on his chest.

But then his hand slid down to your lower back, and the kiss deepened. It was like a switch flipped inside of him. His kiss grew more insistent, more urgent, as if he couldn’t wait any longer.

His other hand slid up to your chest, cupping the side of your breast. The pressure was light, just enough to make your heart race faster. His lips left yours to trail down your jaw, kissing your neck, while his hand slid lower.

Your body was burning. Every nerve felt alive, tingling with need. You felt your knees weaken as his hand moved beneath the hem of your shirt, fingertips grazing the soft skin of your stomach.

When you leaned into him again, desperate for more of his touch, he smirked, knowing full well how much power he had over you.

“Tell me, baby…” he started as the hand on your lower back moved to your pants, unbuttoning them. His hand trailed around your waist until it slipped right in your panties. “...did you get this wet just by thinking about me?”

You whimpered under his touch… And that’s when he got rougher.

His hands moved quickly, more forceful now, pulling you flush against him. He groaned as your bodies collided, the heat between you rising higher, his grip tightening around your waist as he pressed his hips into yours.

“You’re so fucking perfect,” Yunho growled, his lips brushing your ear. “And I’m going to make sure you know it.”

Yunho’s hands were a whirlwind of heat and strength, gripping you tightly as he pulled you against him. His lips brushed against your neck, his breath hot and heavy against your skin, and his voice a low growl that sent shivers down your spine.

"You wanted my attention, and now you have it. Let’s see if you can handle it.” he murmured, his voice a deep, rough whisper that made your heart race. His hands moved down your sides, squeezing your hips with a possessive grip. "You’ve been such a good girl, waiting for this… dripping for me. You want your reward, don’t you?”

You swallowed hard, your mouth dry, as your body responded without you even realizing it. He was so close now, his knee between your thighs, pushing them apart, his touch firm, demanding. You could feel the heat between your legs, the desperate throb of your pussy as your body instinctively shifted closer to him.

“I—yes,” you gasped, your voice small but desperate. “I want it... but...”

Yunho froze, his hands tightening on your hips as his eyes snapped to yours.

“But... what?” he growled, his voice low.

You hesitated for a moment, feeling the tension building, before you finally admitted, “I—I’m a virgin.”

Yunho cursed under his breath, his eyes darkening with both frustration and something darker—desire. His grip tightened almost painfully on your waist, his voice a rough rasp as he responded, “Fuck.” He took a slow breath, his hands sliding down to your lower back, his fingertips brushing against the sensitive skin.

“You’re telling me... you’ve never been fucked before?” His tone was thick with disbelief, but it only made your body ache for him more.

“No,” you breathed, your hands hovering softly over his chest, desperate for his touch. “I—I’ve never...”

“"Jesus Christ," he muttered under his breath, raking a hand through his hair before gripping your waist. His touch was firmer now, like he was holding himself back. His gaze flickered over your face, dark with something primal. "You’ve really never…?" He exhaled sharply, his tongue swiping across his bottom lip. "Fuck. That means every little sound, every little reaction—" He swallowed hard, his voice dropping. "All of it’s gonna be just for me."

He moved his knee between your legs again, pressing harder, spreading you open with a force that had your head spinning. His hands slid up to your chest, the heat from his touch making your skin burn as he cupped your breasts roughly, squeezing and kneading them through your clothes.

His lips descended on yours, kissing you with an intensity that took your breath away, his hands working at the fastenings of your clothes, undoing them with unrelenting precision.

“God, you’re so fucking beautiful,” he muttered, his hands caressing every inch of your exposed skin. He kissed your neck, your collarbone, his lips trailing down to your breasts, and you gasped, your body trembling from the touch. “And all mine tonight.”

You were barely able to comprehend it all as Yunho’s hands worked their way down your body, his touch rough, almost possessive as he teased you, his fingers grazing the sensitive skin between your legs. You moaned, unable to help it, and he grinned darkly, his eyes flashing with a predatory glint.

“You’re mine tonight,” he repeated, the words burning in your ears. “And I’ll make sure you never forget that.”

He lifted you easily, carrying you to the bedroom with a single-minded purpose, and when he dropped you onto the bed, the weight of his body followed immediately. He crawled over you, his eyes never leaving yours, and you felt the heat from his body overwhelm you.

Yunho’s lips ghosted over yours, his voice a low rasp. "This is what you wanted, isn’t it?"

His knee pressed between your legs, parting them effortlessly. His breath hitched as his fingers trailed up your thighs—slow, teasing—before slipping between them. Testing. Barely touching.

And then, he felt it.

A deep chuckle rumbled from his chest. "Uh-oh… already so, so wet for me, baby?" His fingers pressed in just enough to make you gasp. "Guess I don’t even have to ask how bad you need this."

You couldn’t help but nod, your body aching for more, your chest heaving with desire. “P-please…”

He cursed again, his voice thick with frustration, and then, with a growl, he lifted you off the bed, moving you effortlessly to his side. “You better be ready for this, sweetheart. Because I’m not going easy on you.”

Yunho’s lips were relentless against yours, claiming your mouth with a messy, desperate hunger. His tongue pushed past your lips, licking into you with no hesitation, no restraint—wet, hot, possessive. His teeth grazed your lower lip, tugging roughly before he slanted his mouth over yours again, deeper, hungrier, like he wanted to ruin you with just his kiss.

His hands were everywhere at once—gripping, kneading, stroking. He squeezed your waist before sliding lower, grabbing at your ass. The heat between your legs pulsed, your body arching instinctively into his as he pressed his weight down onto you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, flipping you around and pushing your chest into the wall. He tilted your head toward him, kissing you sloppily. He pressed himself against your ass, letting you feel just how eager he was to ruin you. “Feel this, baby..? That's just how much I want you”

You gasped into his mouth, your fingers clawing at the wall, desperate for something to hold on to. His hands moved higher, shoving your shirt up, his rough palms trailing over your bare skin, lighting a fire everywhere he touched.

“Need this off,” he muttered, voice hoarse as he yanked the fabric over your head. His mouth was on your shoulder in an instant, sucking harsh bruises into your skin, marking you, owning you.

You barely had a second to breathe before his hands moved again—one slipping on your back to unclasp your bra, the other gripping your hip, pressing you harder against the thick bulge in his jeans. He groaned as your bare breasts pressed against the wall.

His fingers hooked into the waistband of your panties, sliding them down your thighs before tossing them aside. “So fucking pretty,” he murmured, his hand trailing between your legs, fingertips teasing along your slit. “So wet for me already.” he said as he lowered himself on his knees, kisses trailing from your shoulder to your lower back, the to the soft, plush skin of your ass.

You whimpered, legs twitching as he rubbed slow, deliberate circles over your clit, the pressure just enough to drive you insane. Your hips bucked into his hand, chasing more friction, and he smirked against your skin. “Impatient, huh?”.

But before you could whine, after he was done with his sloppy, soft trail of kisses, he suddenly got up and backed off. Your breath caught as you turned around and watched him reach for his own shirt, yanking it off and tossing it to the floor. His body was all hard muscle, broad shoulders flexing as he undid his belt, the soft clink of metal making your core clench with anticipation. He made a show of unbuttoning his jeans, shoving them down his thighs before kicking them off entirely, leaving him in just his boxers.

And that’s when you saw it. Your eyes widened, breath hitching as you stared at the thick, straining outline beneath the thin fabric. He was huge.

Yunho let out a low chuckle, catching your reaction. His gaze was dark, hungry, smug. “What’s wrong, baby?” he teased, palming himself through his boxers, giving a slow, deliberate squeeze. “Didn’t expect me to be this big?”

You swallowed, your mouth suddenly dry. “I—”

His smirk deepened as he leaned back down over you, his lips brushing against your ear as he murmured, “Don’t worry. I’ll make it fit.”

Yunho didn't give you a chance to process, didn't let you catch your breath before he hooked his fingers into the waistband of his boxers and shoved them down.

Your gasp was instant, raw, eyes widening as his cock sprang free--thick, heavy, flushed deep at the tip. The veins running along the shaft stood out, prominent, like they were made to be traced with your own little tongue. He was so fucking big, the kind of size that made your thighs press together with both pleasure and just a little bit of fear.

Yunho caught the way you stared, your lips parting like you wanted to speak but couldn’t. His grin was slow, dark, as he stroked himself—letting you watch.

"That pretty little mouth of yours can’t even find the words, huh?" His voice was thick with amusement, his eyes locked on you. "That’s alright, baby… I’d rather have it wrapped around my cock anyway."

Your whimper was embarrassingly loud as he approached you, his hand slipping on your ass, and he chuckled, leaning down to press his lips against your ear. ""Say it.'' His voice was rough, commanding. "Say you want Daddy to fuck you.”

Your breath hitched, shame burning at your skin, but the need-the sheer, aching desperation-was stronger. "I -" You swallowed hard, gripping at his forearms,

fingers barely able to wrap around the thick muscles there. "I want Daddy to fuck me.

Yunho’s cock throbbed in his hand as he stroked himself slowly, watching you with dark, hooded eyes. His other hand was between your legs, two thick fingers buried inside your dripping cunt, stretching you open.

“Such a good girl,” he murmured, his deep voice dripping with hunger as he curled his fingers just right, hitting that perfect spot that had your legs trembling. “Taking my fingers so well. Gonna feel so fucking good when I finally stretch you around my cock.”

Your whimper only made his smirk deepen. He pulled his fingers out slowly, dragging them against your walls before bringing them up to your mouth, pressing them against your lips. “Open.”

You obeyed instantly, parting your lips, letting him slide his fingers inside. The taste of yourself flooded your tongue, and Yunho groaned, watching as you sucked them clean, his cock twitching tall against his stomach.

“Fuck,” he growled, gripping the back of your head. “You’re gonna look so pretty with my cock in your mouth.”

He guided you down onto all fours between his spread thighs, his other hand still trailing between your legs, fingers teasing your swollen clit as he positioned you right in front of his cock. It was thick, flushed, the veins standing out as he stroked himself, making sure you saw just how big he was.

“Look at it, baby,” he murmured, the head of his cock brushing against your lips. “You’re gonna take your time with this, yeah? Let Daddy teach you how to suck it just right.”

You nodded, your breath warm against his cock as you hesitantly parted your lips. Yunho guided you with firm hands, his fingers threading through your hair as you took the swollen tip into your mouth.

“Good girl,” he groaned, tilting his head back as you wrapped your lips around him. “Fuck, yeah—just like that.”

His fingers between your legs moved in slow, lazy circles, teasing your clit as you hollowed your cheeks, sucking him deeper. He cursed under his breath, his grip tightening in your hair as he resisted the urge to thrust into your mouth.

“Relax your throat,” he murmured, voice strained. “Take more, baby. You can do it.”

You obeyed, inching down further, your tongue running along the prominent veins on the underside of his cock. Yunho let out a deep, shuddering breath, his hips twitching as he groaned, “Fuck—just like that.”

His fingers between your thighs finally pushed back inside you, stretching you open again as he fucked them into you in time with the slow, messy bob of your head. “God, you’re such a good fucking girl for me,” he panted, watching you take him, watching the way your thighs trembled from his touch.

His breathing grew ragged, his grip in your hair tightening as you swirled your tongue over the slit of his cock, tasting the salty precum. His hips jerked involuntarily, and a rough groan ripped from his throat.

“Gonna come,” he warned, voice wrecked, his cock throbbing on your tongue. “You gonna swallow like a good girl?”

You moaned around him, and that was it.

Yunho cursed, his muscles tensing as he came hard, thick ropes of cum spilling into your mouth. His grip on your hair loosened as he shuddered through it, his breath heavy and uneven.

You swallowed it all, licking your lips as you pulled back, and Yunho groaned at the sight, his thumb tracing your swollen lips. “Fuck, that was so hot,” he muttered, pulling you up onto the bed before pushing your back against the mattress.

His hands were rough as they gripped your thighs, spreading you open once more. His cock was still hard, still thick, still glistening from your mouth, and he smirked as he rubbed the tip against your soaked entrance.

“You did so well for me, baby,” he murmured, teasing you, pressing just the head inside before pulling back. “But we’re not done yet.”

His fingers found your clit again, rubbing slow, torturous circles as he grinned down at you.

“Now it’s your turn.”

Yunho hovered over you, his large hands spreading your thighs wide, his body radiating warmth as he settled between them. His cock was thick and hard, the head already pressing gently against your entrance, teasing, testing.

His eyes were dark with restraint, his breathing heavy as he ran his hands up your sides, smoothing over your ribs, your stomach, before cupping your jaw with a gentleness that had your heart skipping. “Relax, baby,” he murmured, voice softer now, coaxing. “Gonna take my time with you.”

He pressed a lingering kiss to your lips, swallowing your nervous breath before slowly, slowly pushing inside.

The stretch was instant, overwhelming, burning and pleasurable all at once. Your fingers dug into his biceps, nails pressing into the thick veins running along his forearms as he worked himself deeper, stopping every few inches to let you adjust.

“Shh, I got you,” he soothed, lips brushing over your temple, his breath warm against your skin. His voice was a quiet hum of restraint, but his cock was throbbing inside you, twitching like he was holding himself back from burying himself to the hilt.

But then you gasped, body trembling as he pushed a little more, and Yunho froze, groaning as he realized—you still couldn’t even take half of him.

He pulled back just enough to watch, his gaze dark, hungry, as you struggled to take him. His lips curled into a slow, knowing smirk.

His thumb traced over your clit—soft, teasing, not nearly enough. "Look at you," he murmured, voice rich with amusement. "Can’t even take half, huh? So damn tight… but don’t worry, baby—" his smirk deepened as he pressed in just a little more— "we’ll fix that."

You whimpered, thighs twitching as he pulled out just a bit, rubbing the thick head against your soaked entrance before pushing back in, just a little deeper this time. “Don’t worry,” he chuckled, his voice like warm honey laced with sin. “I’m gonna make it fit.”

His lips found yours, kissing you slow, deep, as he rolled his hips, easing himself deeper, inch by inch. His hands were everywhere—gripping your waist, teasing your nipples, rubbing slow circles into your thigh. Every movement was designed to coax you open, to make you crave more.

The burn turned into pleasure, the ache shifting into something dangerously addictive. Yunho groaned when you finally relaxed around him, his cock sinking deeper, his restraint thinning as your walls clenched around him, sucking him in.

But just as he found his rhythm, just as he was kissing you slow, touching you sweetly— you decided to push him.

Your lips curled into the smallest, brattiest smirk, and you clenched down tight around him, rolling your hips up just slightly, even though it had you gasping from the intense stretch.

Yunho froze.

His breath stuttered, his muscles tensing beneath your hands. For a long second, he didn’t move. Just stared down at you, the flickering candlelight catching the veins on his arms, his neck, his cock buried deep inside you.

And then he let out a low, dangerous chuckle. “Oh, you wanna play dirty, huh?” His voice was different now—darker, deeper, rougher.

His grip on your thighs tightened, his thumbs pressing into your skin, and then, with zero warning, he snapped his hips forward, slamming himself deeper, forcing you to take all of him.

A strangled moan ripped from your throat, your back arching off the bed as the pleasure hit you like a fucking freight train.

“Thought you were struggling a second ago,” Yunho gritted out, his voice thick with amusement. His hands slid up your stomach, his fingertips brushing over your nipples, tweaking, teasing. “But now you’re acting like a little brat.”

He pulled out just enough before slamming back in, his restraint snapping thread by thread as he watched you fall apart beneath him.

"You want it rough, baby?" Yunho’s voice was a low growl, his teeth grazing your jaw—dangerously close to sinking in. His grip tightened, holding you in place as he rolled his hips, pushing deeper, stretching you open inch by inch.

"That’s it… take it," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. His cock dragged against your walls, thick, unrelenting, before he pulled back just enough to make you whimper.

"Don’t worry, sweetheart…" His smirk was pure sin as he thrust in again, slow but firm. "Daddy's gonna take care of you, make you feel so full.”

He didn’t give you a chance to answer.

Yunho’s hips slammed into yours, fucking you deep, hard, relentless—his hands gripping your wrists, pinning them above your head as his mouth found your breasts, biting, marking you everywhere.

His control was gone.

And you?

You had asked for this. Yunho had snapped.

The second you clenched around him—tight, desperate, involuntary—he lost every ounce of restraint.

His large hands gripped your thighs, forcing them even wider as he sank deeper, inch by devastating inch. You were so small compared to him, and fuck, the way your body struggled to take him made him groan deep in his chest.

“Look at you,” he muttered, voice dark, rough with restraint. “So fucking tight—” He rolled his hips forward, pressing even deeper, making sure you felt every single inch of him. “Your little pussy wasn’t made for something this big, was it?”

Your breath hitched, fingers gripping onto his strong, veined forearms like they were your only anchor. The stretch was intense, burning, dizzying, but it was so good. You didn’t even realize you were whimpering, trembling beneath him.

“Poor baby,” he cooed, his huge hand cupping your jaw, thumb stroking over your parted lips. “Barely able to take me… but still trying to act like a little brat?”

You whimpered, your body tightening around him again, and Yunho groaned, jaw clenching as his cock throbbed inside you.

“Shit—” His grip tightened, veins bulging beneath his tan skin, muscles flexing as he held himself back. You were too fucking tight. Too untouched, unclaimed— and that only made his control slip even more.

He nudged against your cervix, the pressure sending a sharp wave of pleasure-pain through you, and you gasped, back arching beneath him.

And Yunho? He felt it. Every little clench, every tiny tremor. And it was driving him fucking crazy.

Your moan was helpless, needy, completely wrecked.

Yunho groaned again, his head dropping to your shoulder, his breath hot against your skin. “Fuck—you’re sucking me in so tight.”

And then—you did it again.

Clenching around him, squeezing down, teasing, despite the fact that you could barely handle him.

His hands slid up your stomach, teasing, slow, fingertips brushing over your breasts before wrapping around your throat, tilting your chin up so you had to look at him.

“You gonna cry for me, baby?” he murmured, mocking, teasing. “Can’t handle how deep Daddy is?”

The title sent another sharp pulse through your core, and Yunho felt it immediately.

His jaw clenched, his thick cock twitching inside you. “Oh, fuck–, you like that?” His fingers tightened slightly around your throat, just enough to make your breath stutter. “Like having my cock stretch you open? Like knowing I’m the first—the only—man who’ll ever break you in?”

You whimpered, head spinning, drowning in the filth of it all.

Then, with one smooth, effortless motion, he flipped you onto your stomach, his strong hands pressing into your back, keeping you pinned.

“This is what you wanted, isn’t it?” he rasped, voice rough, desperate, on the edge of losing it completely. “Wanted to be fucked properly?”

He pulled out just to slam back in, forcing you to take him deeper than ever, stretching you in ways you never thought possible.

Your moan was wrecked, broken, completely fucked-out.

“That’s it,” Yunho groaned, snapping his hips forward, his thick cock pressing against the deepest part of you. “Take it, baby. Take all of it.”

His grip on your hips was bruising, dragging you back onto his cock as he fucked you with long, deep strokes, each one knocking the air from your lungs.

With one hand, he gripped your waist, lifting it slightly as he rolled his hips into you, the sensation of him pressing against you was intoxicating. He moved slowly at first, his thrusts deliberate and deep, letting you feel every inch of him as he sank into you.

His other hand traveled down your body, fingers brushing over your sensitive skin before finding your clit. The moment he began to rub slow, teasing circles, you gasped, your body responding instinctively.

“Y-Yunho,” you whimpered, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes from the overwhelming sensation of being stretched by him and the pleasure building within you.

“Just let it happen,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. “You can take it.”

You could feel the pressure building, both from his relentless thrusting and his skilled fingers working over your clit, drawing you closer to the edge. The combination was too much, and you felt tears slipping down your cheeks as he held you down, completely at his mercy.

“That's it,” he encouraged, his voice a low growl. “You’re doing so well for me.”

As his fingers worked faster, you felt yourself teetering on the brink, the overwhelming pleasure washing over you in intoxicating waves.

Yunho's fingers moved skillfully over your clit, the pressure inside you began to build, overwhelming your senses. Each thrust of his hips was deep and relentless, pushing you closer to an edge you had never known before.

“Oh, god,” you gasped, feeling the tight coil of pleasure tighten in your core. It was building, growing more intense with each movement, and you could hardly believe what was happening. This was your first orgasm, and it felt like everything was about to explode.

“Just let go, baby,” he murmured, his voice low and encouraging, like a siren calling you closer to the waves. “I know you can do it. You’re so close.”

With one final, deliberate thrust, his fingers increased their pace, and suddenly, the pressure released. Waves of pleasure crashed over you, your body shaking as you felt the orgasm wash through you for the first time. It was intense, all-consuming, and it left you breathless, your vision blurring as you gasped for air.

“Good girl,” Yunho praised, his voice thick with desire. “That’s it. You did so well.”

But he didn’t relent. Instead, he rolled his hips faster and deeper, pushing you through the aftershocks of your release. His grip on your neck was firm but gentle, guiding you as he moved. Each thrust was powerful, hitting a spot inside you that made you moan uncontrollably.

“Feel how good you are for me,” he encouraged, his voice a mixture of roughness and sweetness. “You’re taking me so well. I knew you could do it.”

The combination of his praise and the relentless rhythm of his hips sent you spiraling again, your body responding eagerly to his every movement.

Then, with a low growl, Yunho shifted his grip, holding you closer, and you could feel the intensity of his own need as he began to fill you up completely. The sensation of him deep inside you was overwhelming, and you could barely contain the pleasure that surged through your body once more.

“Just like that,” he groaned, his breath scorching your skin as he moved against you. “You were made for me, baby. I’m gonna make you remember every inch of me inside you.”

With that, he thrust harder, deeper, making sure you felt every inch of him, every thrust, as he lost himself in the rhythm of your bodies. You were his, completely and utterly, and as he filled you up, you couldn’t help but surrender to the pleasure.

As Yunho continued to thrust into you, the sensations were overwhelming. Each movement was deep and precise, sending waves of pleasure coursing through your body. You could barely think straight, lost in the moment—until the sound of his phone ringing broke through the haze.

He paused, a low growl rumbling from his chest as he glanced at the screen. The color drained from his face for a moment, replaced by a smirk. “Just when I thought I had you all to myself,” he murmured, his eyes gleaming with mischief.

With a finger pressed to your lips, he held your gaze. “It’s my daughter,” he said, his voice low and teasing. “And she’s calling. But you’re going to stay quiet while I talk.”

Your heart raced at the implication, the thrill of being caught in such an intimate moment mixed with urgency. He held you in place, his grip on your waist firm as he pressed his phone to his ear.

“Hey, sweetheart,” he said smoothly, his voice shifting to a comforting tone, softly thrusting into you. “Yeah, sorry, the signal here is awful. I’m good, just… busy around the house.”

As he spoke, he kept his pace, slower but no less intense. He kept your hips pinned down, the rhythm of his movements steady. You had to bite your lip to keep from making a sound, the pleasure building within you again.

“I’m with a friend,” he continued, glancing down at you with a wicked smile. “Yeah, she’s fine… watching a movie, just a little preoccupied. ”

The way he emphasized the last word sent a jolt of electricity through you, and you struggled to suppress your moans. Each thrust drew you closer to the edge, and the combination of his words and movements was driving you wild. The feeling of being so vulnerable and exposed, yet entirely under his control, sent shivers down your spine.

Yunho leaned down closer to you, his breath warm against your ear as he continued to talk. “I’ll call you back in a bit, okay? Just need to take care of something,” he said, his voice smooth and teasing. “Love you.”

As he ended the call, his eyes locked onto yours and how you looked over your shoulder at him, the teasing glint in them igniting a fire in your belly. “You did so well, baby,” he said, breathless.

With that, he increased his pace, his thrusts becoming more demanding and urgent as you struggled to hold back the sounds threatening to escape. You could feel the pressure building within you, every deep thrust hitting that sweet spot inside you. The thrill of being caught, mixed with the electric tension in the air, had you teetering on the edge of another release.

“Isn’t this fun?” he teased, his voice low and gravelly. “You, here, all mine.. taking my cock so well, while my daughter thinks I’m just busy with a friend. How naughty of you.”

His words sent a fresh wave of heat through you, the thrill of being in this secret, intimate space where nothing else mattered but the two of you. You wanted to respond, to beg him for more, but he held you firmly, the weight of his body pressing you down into the mattress.

“Can you keep quiet for me?” he asked, his breath hot against your skin. “I want to hear you hold back, feel you tighten around me.”

You nodded, the pressure of his hips against yours nearly overwhelming. It was all you could do to keep quiet as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge, your body responding instinctively to his every thrust.

“Good girl,” he praised, his voice thick with desire. “You’re doing so well. Just a little longer.”

But as he spoke, he slowed his movements, teasing you, drawing it out. His fingers grazed your waist, the sensation both grounding and electrifying. You could feel him hovering over you, the heat radiating from his body as he watched your every reaction.

“"Look at you," he murmured, his voice rich with lust, laced with something almost reverent. His grip tightened as he rolled his hips, slow, deliberate. "You’re already so close… I can feel it—the way you're gripping me, holding me so tight."

You wanted to respond, to tell him just how close you were, but you knew you had to hold back. The thrill of the moment only intensified the pleasure, and with each deliberate thrust, he was pushing you to your limits.

“Let’s see how long you can take it,” he teased, his hands gripping your hips as he began to pick up the pace again, harder and deeper.

Every thrust sent shockwaves of pleasure through you, and you could feel your resolve weakening. The mix of desire and restraint was intoxicating, and with each movement, he drew you closer to that blissful edge once more.

“You’re doing so, so well, baby…” he murmured, his voice low and full of praise. “You can do it, baby. Just keep quiet for me, mm?”

His words, combined with the relentless rhythm of his hips, pushed you further toward the edge, and you couldn’t hold back the whimper that escaped your lips. Yunho’s eyes darkened with desire, and you knew he could feel how close you were.

“Ah, ah, ah,” he chided playfully. “No sounds. You promised.”

With that, he thrust deeper, his movements becoming more frantic, the urgency building between you as he closed in on his own release. You could feel the tension crackling in the air, and you knew you were both reaching that point of no return.

He held you tightly, his breath ragged as he whispered sweet praises in your ear. “You’re incredible, baby. Taking my cock so, so well…”

Your body responded to him instinctively, tightening around him as if begging for release. The world outside faded, leaving only the two of you in this moment, lost in each other.

“Can you feel that?” he asked, his voice a low growl. “You’re driving me wild. I’m not stopping until we both finish..”

With renewed vigor, he picked up the pace, his hips slamming into you with a delicious intensity. The sounds of skin meeting skin filled the room, echoing the rhythm of your bodies intertwined.

“Let go for me,” he urged, his voice thick with desire. “I want to feel you come around me. Show me how good you are.”

And just like that, the dam broke. Whatever restraint you had within you to not make a sound, to not cum and scream, it shattered. The waves of pleasure crashed over you, overwhelming and all-consuming. You gasped, moans and whimpers escaping your rapidly rising chest, your body shaking as you surrendered to the bliss of your orgasm, the world around you blurring into nothing.

Yunho’s thrusts didn’t relent; instead, he chased his own orgasm, driving deeper into you, and the sensation pushed you even higher. “That’s it, baby. Just like that,” he growled, his voice a mix of pleasure and need.

As your body pulsed around him, you felt him tighten his grip on you, a low growl escaping his lips as he finally lost himself in you. His cum filled you completely, the sensation igniting a final spark of pleasure that sent shivers through your entire being.

In those moments, as you both rode out the waves of pleasure together, the world outside faded away completely. It was just you and him, tangled in each other, both left breathless and completely satisfied.

As you lay there, wrapped in the aftermath of your shared ecstasy, Yunho brushed his fingers softly over your back, a warm smile spreading across his face. “You did amazing,” he said, his voice tender and filled with warmth. “I knew you were special.”

You looked up at him, a mix of emotions swirling in your chest, and with a teasing smile, you whispered, “this is going to be a looong summer…” and a chuckle followed, Yunho smiling at you.

“Yeah, indeed-” he paused for a second, a thought running through his mind. “Ah, I completely forgot.. my daughter is not going to be home for a whooole week, sweetie. She has some sort of trip with his boyfriend's family.. I don't know. How do you feel about that, hm?” he wrapped you in his embrace, leaving soft kisses on your shoulder.

“I- oh.” you managed to mumble, puppy-like eyes looking up at him, eagerly waiting for that week to come as he smiled at you.

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