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krystalcat · 26 days ago

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A Spoonful of Trouble - Wooyoung x Reader

Summary: Three years of living with your best friend Wooyoung, and it’s all been chill… until a run-in with your old coworker, who’s dating your ex, forces you to lie. You tell her you’re in a relationship with Wooyoung, and now you both have to fake a relationship at a couples’ dinner. Wooyoung’s plan? Make your ex jealous. What starts as a harmless game soon sparks something you didn’t see coming.

Word count: 17.4K

Genre: Best-friend/Roomie Wooyoung, fake dating, comedy (it’s wooyoung, ofc its fun), friends-to-lovers, oneshot, smut

Warnings: Jealous undertones, Wooyoung with reader (fem pronouns), dom Wooyoung, he’s a tease, fingering, oral (fem receiving), choking and hair pulling, ass slaps and pussy slaps (lmao sorry) dirtytalk, unprotected sex, lmk if I missed anything!

A/N: I was requested a Wooyoung fanfic (preferably friends to lovers) and your wish is my command. Also, I haven't read this through, so I excuse if there are any mistakes!

This is all for fun and is not meant to represent Wooyoung in any way.

You didn’t know Wooyoung before you moved in with him.

It wasn’t some childhood-friends-to-roommates situation. It was a Facebook listing, a desperate rent situation, and a quick video call where he grinned and said, “I’m clean, I cook, and I only walk around shirtless on laundry days, deal?”

Your boyfriend had just cheated on you and you were too broke to be picky.

You moved in two weeks later.

That was three years ago.

When you first moved in, things were simple. Polite nods in the hallway, careful division of chores, messages like “Can I use your oat milk?” and “Trash day’s Thursday.” You were strangers learning how to coexist. He was respectful, charming, funny in a careful kind of way.

But that changed. Slowly. Naturally.

There was the night he knocked on your door with two bowls of ramen after hearing you cry through the wall. The time he fell asleep on your shoulder during a movie, and you let him stay there. The mornings where he started making two cups of coffee without asking, and the way he never forgot which mug was your favorite.

Little things, at first. But they stacked up.

Now he knows your coffee order and your worst ex’s name. He doesn’t knock anymore when your door is open. And you don’t bother pretending to be annoyed when he drapes himself across the couch you’re already sitting on, like there’s not an entire empty seat next to you. You know his favorite hoodie and the playlist he only listens to when he’s feeling off.

You don’t even remember when it happened. When “roommate” became “friend,” and “friend” slowly became “best friend”.

He’s the first person you turn to when something happens, good or bad. You’ve become so used to him and his playful, flirtatious nature, that it’s just... normal now.

This morning, you wake up to the sound of a pan sizzling.

It’s not unusual. Wooyoung does most of the cooking in the apartment, partly because he’s better at it, mostly because he refuses to eat anything bland. You’ve learned not to interfere when he’s in his element, your only job is to show up and eat.

Still, it’s early, and he’s making a bit too much noise for someone who claims to love you “platonically.”

You shuffle out of your room, hair a mess, socks mismatched. The kitchen smells like garlic and eggs, and you see him standing at the stove, completely in his zone. Hoodie sleeves pushed up, spatula in hand, flipping something with a finesse that makes it obvious he knows he looks good doing it.

“You’re showing off,” you mutter, leaning against the doorframe.

He doesn’t look away from the pan. “You’re welcome.”

You make a beeline for your favorite mug, the one he always pretends to hate but still washes carefully every time you leave it in the sink.

“I figured you’d sleep in,” he says. “You stayed up late.”

“Yea, because someone wasn’t leaving my room.” you send him a glare.

“I like hanging out with you! and don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy the story about the geek and the popular girl from my old highschool. That story is cute as hell.” he points the spatula with you like it’s a weapon.

You smirk behind the mug. “Okay, that one was kinda good.”

He grins, plating scrambled eggs and what looks like roasted vegetables. He slides the plate toward your usual spot at the counter like he’s done it a hundred times, because he has.

“How was your date?” you ask, poking your fork into a roasted tomato.

Wooyoung groans. “Disaster.”

“That bad?”

“She asked if I was in love with her halfway through the appetizer.”

“Bold of her,” you say, chewing.

“And when I said no, she looked at me like I kicked her in the face. Then she told me I ‘give off commitment issues.’”

You grin. “You do give off commitment issues.”

He glares playfully. “Okay, rude. I’m extremely loyal.”

“To me.”

“Exactly. My loyalty quota is full. Sorry to the rest of the world.” he shoots you a wink, nothing dramatic, just one of those natural, easy gestures he does without thinking. You don’t blush. Not anymore.

You're used to it. In the beginning, back when you were still adjusting to living with someone who looks like that, who flirts with the air he breathes, who walks around shirtless and steals fries from your plate and calls you “babe” just to watch your reaction, it was different.

But now? Immunity.

Mostly.

It’s easy with him, always has been. Closeness that doesn’t need explanation. No boundaries, because you don’t need them. Not when you’ve seen each other through every version of a day.

He sits beside you at the counter instead of across, thigh brushing yours like it’s second nature.

Because it is.

***

“You know,” you say, pushing the cart down the cereal aisle, “you could just admit you have the taste buds of a hyperactive child.”

Wooyoung gasps, dramatically offended as he holds up a neon box of chocolate puffs. “This is not childish. This is elite. You wouldn’t understand the depth of this flavor profile.”

Grocery shopping with Wooyoung is basically a weekly ritual at this point. Not because you can’t go alone, but because he insists on it. Claims you’d forget half the list and come back with snacks and nothing else. Which, to be fair, is kind of true.

You’re halfway through the cereal aisle, walking behind the cart as Wooyoung wanders a few feet ahead, eyes locked on the shelf like he’s making a life-or-death decision between sugary clusters or chocolate swirls.

He’s in his element, mumbling ingredients under his breath, holding one box up to the light like he’s reading ancient scrolls. You smile to yourself, letting him do his thing as you slow down, scanning your phone for the rest of your shared grocery list.

And then, just your luck, you hear it.

“Oh my god, Y/N?”

You look up too slowly.

Hana.

You turn, putting on the most polite expression you can muster as she approaches, all bright eyes and perfect hair and the same aggressive enthusiasm she used to bring to Monday morning staff meetings.

“Hana,” you say, trying to sound surprised instead of resigned. “Wow. Hi.”

“I thought that was you! Oh my god, it’s been what, like, forever? You look so… Anyways, it’s so good to see you!” She eyes you, then glances down into your cart before you can respond. “Frozen dumplings, instant rice, oh my god I love those snacks, they’re so bad but soooo addictive, right? Wait-, this kimchi brand is the worst. You should try the one from Jihyun’s Market across town. It’s organic.”

You blink. “I... like this one.”

“Sure, sure. I mean, I just think it’s better to be picky with fermented stuff, you know? Especially when you’re eating it alone.”

You don’t answer right away. She doesn’t wait.

“Gosh, how are you? I remember how you were always the chill one at work. So responsible. So put together. Like, you were always the single one! We called you "The Independent Icon" behind your back. Not in a mean way!”

You hadn’t planned on staying single forever. But a few years ago, your boyfriend cheated on you while he was on vacation, called you from the airport like it was no big deal. After that, you decided you were done. No dating for a while, no more risks. It was easier to be alone than to be blindsided again. Eventually, people stopped asking. Then they started assuming.

Your stomach twists. You glance down the aisle. Wooyoung is still several feet away, crouched in front of a lower shelf now, examining cereal boxes like he’s an art critic. Totally out of earshot.

“Oh, I didn’t know people talked about that,” you say, trying to keep your tone neutral.

Hana waves a hand. “Only in admiration, really. I mean, you’ve never brought a guy to any of our dinners. I think Minji even thought you were secretly dating a girl for a while, totally cool if you are! No judgment! But I told her, no way. Y/N is just focused. Did I tell you I got married, by the way? I don’t think you ever met my husband. We got married last year, tiny ceremony, super last minute. Here-, he’s gonna kill me for showing this, but look how ridiculous he looks in this suit.”

She pulls out her phone, swipes once, then holds it up to you.

You freeze.

You know that face.

The sharp jawline. The dimple on his left cheek. The same stupid smile he had when he came back from that trip and told you, casually, like it was weather, that he’d slept with someone else. “It didn’t mean anything,” he said, “we were just having a rough patch, right?”

Your stomach drops.

“That’s him,” Hana says proudly. “Total goofball, but he’s the best. Honestly, I didn’t think I’d find someone like him. But don’t worry, you’ll find someone too some day!”

Hana is still talking but her words blur.

You could say nothing. You could just smile, nod, and escape with your overpriced kimchi and frozen dumplings. But you nod slowly, eyes darting to the end of the aisle again. Suddenly, you hear yourself say, voice too quick and too loud:

“Actually, I’m dating someone.”

Hana’s brows lift. “Wait, really?”

“Yeah.” You point down the aisle.

She turns.

Wooyoung, still crouched, is now reading the back of a cereal box, completely oblivious to your social spiral.

“Oh?” Hana’s eyes are practically sparkling now, thrilled by this newfound information. “Look at you! I know you had it in you!” she says, nudging your arm. “You have to bring him to dinner. We’re doing a little couples night this Friday. Just a few of us from work, old and new. Minji’s coming, and Jihyun, and my husband’s inviting one of his coworkers and their girlfriend. You two should come!”

You hesitate, already internally spiraling. “Oh, I don’t know-”

“Come on! It’ll be fun. I need someone there who doesn’t talk about babies every ten seconds. Please.”

She’s already taking your nod as confirmation before you’ve fully given it. “Perfect! I’ll text you the details, I still have your number. You better show up.”

Just as she’s about to walk away, Wooyoung returns, holding two cereal boxes and strolling up casually.

Hana’s face lights up again. “See you soon!” she says brightly to him, giving you both a final little wave before disappearing around the corner.

Wooyoung blinks after her, then looks at you, eyebrows raised. “...Why do I feel like I just missed something deeply important?”

You stare at him, trying to decide where to begin.

He holds up the cereal boxes, undeterred. “Okay. Fruity Loops or Cinnamon Sugar Swirls. One has slightly fewer chemicals. I won’t say which.”

You inhale slowly, exhale even slower. “So, remember when you left me alone for two minutes?”

“Tragically, yes.”

“Well… in those two minutes, I may have… sort of… told someone we’re dating.”

There’s a beat of silence.

Wooyoung blinks. “You what?”

You gesture weakly down the aisle. “That was Hana. Old coworker. She’s always been weirdly obsessed with the fact that I’m single. She was doing her usual thing, and I panicked, and I pointed at you, and now she thinks we’re together, and- surprise! We’re going to a couples dinner on Friday.”

Wooyoung looks at you. Then at the cereal. Then back at you.

And then he grins.

Like really grins.

“Oh my God,” he says, eyes wide with delight. “This is amazing.”

“Wooyoung.”

“We’re fake dating? We’re doing the thing? Like the romcoms?”

You press a hand to your face. “It gets worse.”

His grin somehow grows. “I’m listening.”

“She’s married to my ex.”

Wooyoung blinks. “The ex?”

You nod. “She showed me a wedding photo. It’s him. The one who cheated on me while he was on vacation. The reason I swore off dating for like, three years.”

Wooyoung’s jaw drops, then slowly morphs into something almost unhinged with glee.

“Oh my God,” he breathes. “This is so much better than I thought.”

“Why are you happy?”

“Because,” he says, absolutely glowing, “I get to sit across from the guy who cheated on my best friend and pretend to be the hot, attentive boyfriend who’s so in love with her he’d die for her. I’m going to be so annoying. I’m going to feed you food.”

“Wooyoung.”

“I’m going to wipe sauce off your mouth. I’m going to put my arm around your chair. I’m going to call you baby in front of him.”

You groan. “This is going to kill me.”

“This is going to heal you,” he says. “You know what, this counts for both of the cereals. Sweet childhood nostalgia and the one that turns milk radioactive pink.” He throws the cereals into the cart with dramatic flair. “This is the best grocery trip of my life.”

***

Friday morning

He’s already in the kitchen when you shuffle in, still half-asleep, arms wrapped around yourself. The smell of eggs and butter greets you first.

“Good morning, my beautiful fake girlfriend!” he beams.

You groan. “Please don’t start.”

“Too late,” he sings, doing a dramatic spin with the spatula. “Do you want toast with your lies or just plain guilt?”

You drop your head onto the counter with a sigh. “I’m not built for this level of energy before caffeine.”

He slides a mug your way, your mug, with your preferred coffee, made just right. “I knew you’d be a flight risk this morning.”

You mutter a thank-you and take a long sip. It helps. But not enough.

“I think I’m panicking,” you say into the mug.

He sets your breakfast in front of you and leans on the counter across from where you sit. “Hey. We’ve got this. All we have to do is show up, eat some overpriced cheese cubes, pretend we’re madly in love, make your ex suffer for being the biggest asshole known to man, and leave. Easy.”

“Madly in love,” you echo flatly.

“Yes, madly.” His smile grows. “Madly, stupidly in love. To the point where your ex is going to regret every single life choice he made after cheating on you. And enough to make Hana go, ‘oh wow, they’re so cute, maybe I am a terrible friend for shaming her for being single for the entire time I’ve known her.’”

You blink. “You really hate him, don’t you?”

“I’ve never even met him and I already hope he has the biggest receding hairline I’ve ever seen.”

You can’t help but laugh.

“And besides,” he adds, stealing a bite of your toast, “we got chemistry.”

You make a face.

“We do, though. We’re best friends. We’re comfortable. We finish each other’s-”

“Don’t.”

“-sentences.”

You hurl a piece of toast crust at him. He dodges it with a smirk.

But he’s right. You are comfortable. You already know what shirt he’s going to wear tonight and that he’s going to pretend he didn’t plan it. You know he’s going to be charming and make everyone laugh and completely forget he’s pretending.

And that’s the part that begins to make your stomach twist.

The day goes faster than you anticipated, and before you know it, you’re both getting ready for the dinner.

You’re halfway through checking your bag for the fourth time when he walks out of his room, and everything in you stills.

He’s adjusting the sleeves of his black button-down, casually rolling them up past his elbows. He tucks his phone into his back pocket, grabs a bottle of wine off the counter. He’s talking, saying something about the wine in his hands, but you don’t hear a word.

Because damn. He looks good.

His black hair is styled a little messier than usual, in that perfectly undone way that probably took way too much effort. He’s tucked his shirt into dark slacks that fit just right, and he’s wearing that silver chain he only brings out for “important” nights.

Like fake dates, apparently.

And the worst part? He doesn’t even look like he’s trying. He looks like this is just how he always looks. Like he doesn’t know that he’s the kind of guy women cross sidewalks for just to sneak a better glance.

And you should be used to that. You live with him. You see him fresh out of bed, half-asleep, shirtless and in the same ratty sweats every Sunday. But this is different.

You recover fast, mutter something closer to sounds than actual words and spin on your heel toward the bathroom.

You need a second. Maybe two.

You close the door behind you and lean against it, willing your heart to calm down. It's just Wooyoung. Your best friend. Your roommate. Your fake boyfriend for the night. Nothing to get flustered over.

You run a hand down your dress, fix your lipstick, try not to think about how the curve of his smile made your stomach flutter.

Then, without a sound, the door cracks open.

He leans casually against the doorframe, watching you through the reflection. “Hey.”

Your eyes meet in the mirror, and for a second, you forget what you’re doing, because his gaze isn’t neutral.

It drops. Lingers.

Slides down the line of your black dress, the way it hugs your hips, the bare skin of your shoulders. It’s not crude, not obvious, but you can feel it. Like a slow drag of heat over your body.

You blink. “You’re not allowed to just come in here.”

“I knocked.”

You glare.

He lifts his hands, innocent. “You just didn’t hear it. Selective hearing, maybe.”

You roll your eyes, but he doesn’t move. Just stay there, eyes trailing from your hair to your lips to the way you’re fidgeting with your rings.

“What’s up?” you ask, voice soft.

He tilts his head slightly, smile tugging at one side of his mouth. “Just thinking.”

“Dangerous.”

“Funny,” he deadpans. Then after a beat, “I was wondering how much of a boyfriend I’m allowed to be tonight.”

Your stomach tightens.

He says it lightly, but there’s something in his voice, something teasing, but slower. More deliberate.

You meet his gaze in the mirror again. “What do you mean?”

“Well,” he says, stepping a little further into the room, “can I hold your hand? Whisper something in your ear if it gets boring? Pull you in when he’s watching?”

You swallow. He’s close now, not too close, but close enough that the air feels warmer.

“Or maybe,” he continues, eyes flicking to your lips just for a second, “kiss your cheek. You know. If it feels natural. Just enough to make him wonder.” There’s something electric in his voice now, light, amused, but edged with something darker. He smiles, wider this time, and it doesn’t reach his eyes. “Actually… can I make your ex jealous as fuck? Is that allowed?”

“What do you want to do?” you ask, your voice quieter than you mean it to be.

“I mean… if you give me even a little room to play…” He leans in, just slightly, not touching. “I swear I’ll ruin his whole fucking night.”

You’re still staring when he backs away, grin wide, eyes too pleased.

“No pressure," he says, putting both of his hands up, he smiles again, but this time it’s softer. “I’ll do whatever makes you feel comfortable.”

Your mouth is dry.

“Do whatever you want,” you manage. “Just… don’t be weird.”

He grins. “I make no promises”

You’re smiling, even as you turn away to grab your perfume, trying not to let him see how warm your cheeks are.

And as he walks out, he says it over his shoulder.

“You didn’t say no to the kiss.”

***

The knock sounds louder than you expect. You suddenly feel overdressed, underprepared, and painfully aware of the fact that your hand is linked with Wooyoung’s.

You didn’t mean to hold hands.

It just sort of… happened. One second you were adjusting your sleeve, the next his fingers found yours, no hesitation, like they’d done it a thousand times. And now it’s too late to pull away without it being weird.

“Y/N! Oh my god, finally! Come in!” Hana screams as she opens the door. You’re barely stepping inside when she notices the man next to you, her eyes widening. “And this is…?”

“Wooyoung,” he says smoothly, offering the wine bottle with both charm and ease. “Nice to meet you.”

Hana takes it with a delighted hum, already ushering you both inside. You barely get a foot in before her voice lifts again. “Babe, come meet my old co-worker!”

And there he is.

Standing a few steps inside the hallway, one hand curled loosely around a drink. He turns at the sound and freezes. Just for a second, quick enough to pass for nothing, but not to you. You see it. His eyes widen slightly, and something flickers across his face. Confusion. Surprise. Like he wasn’t told. Like he wasn’t ready.

But you smile, smooth and pleasant. Step forward, extend your hand like you’ve never seen him before in your life.

“Hi,” you say. “Nice to meet you.”

You smile like it’s nothing. Like you don’t know him. Like he’s just another name you’ll forget by morning. There’s the barest pause before he sets the glass down and shakes your hand. “Yeah,” he says, guarded, eyes flicking to Wooyoung. “You too.”

Before you can say anything, Wooyoung steps forward smoothly, hand outstretched, “Hi,” he says, voice warm and a little too cheerful. “I’m Wooyoung. Her boyfriend.”

There’s a pause. One breath too long. Your ex shifts, not quite hiding the way his eyes flick to your still-joined hands.

“…Right,” he says finally, taking Wooyoung’s hand. “Nice to meet you.”

Hana, being the overly-excited host that she is, smiles at the situation. “Everyone’s in the kitchen. Come on, we’re just doing drinks and snacks before dinner.”

You glance toward the kitchen, grateful for the distraction, but not before you feel Wooyoung’s hand press gently against your lower back, guiding you forward.

As if to say: I’ve got you.

But also…

Watch me work.

The house is warm and golden-lit, filled with soft music and the quiet sounds of people mingling. Laughter drifts from the back, layered over the clink of glasses and the sizzle of something on the stove.

The kitchen is full, couples leaning against counters, clustered near the island, perched on stools. Everyone looks up when you enter, and Hana claps her hands once. “Everyone, this is Y/N and her boyfriend, Wooyoung.”

You swear the word echoes for a second. Boyfriend.

Wooyoung just nods with a relaxed smile, greeting the group like he’s done this a hundred times. He’s introduced to a few of the guys first, and within a minute he’s already laughing at something, fully immersed in conversation.

You hang back, trying not to fidget, trying to ignore how good he looks tonight, sleeves rolled, watch glinting, hair pushed back perfectly like he didn’t even try. And then, as if on cue, Hana pipes up from across the room, tossing the words over her shoulder like they’re harmless.

“I still can’t believe Y/N’s in a relationship now,” she says brightly, like it’s a funny little update. “I didn’t believe it at first, Y/N in a relationship? We all thought she was allergic to commitment!”

There’s a few laughs, light, not cruel. The kind of laugh that happens when people think they’re in on something. The moment the words leave Hana’s mouth, your ex looks up. His expression flickers with a hint of surprise.

You open your mouth, unsure what to say. But before you can speak, Wooyoung cuts in. He doesn’t raise his voice, doesn’t even look particularly bothered. He just glances over at Hana with an easy, almost lazy kind of smile.

“If loving her is a commitment, then it’s the easiest type of commitment I’ve ever made.”

You blink.

Your ex doesn’t say anything. His lips press into a tight line, but his eyes narrow further, jaw clenching slightly as he watches Wooyoung.

But Wooyoung’s gaze never shifts away from you, his hand finding yours again, linking your fingers effortlessly. His smile is small, but there’s a touch of pride behind it. He’s enjoying this.

The women smile. A couple guys glance over like damn. And Hana? She laughs, charmed. “Wow, okay. You’re already winning points.”

You try to smile like your heart didn’t just skip an entire beat.

Hana insists on giving you and Wooyoung a quick tour before dinner. “It’s not huge,” she says, with a laugh that’s anything but modest. “We just really wanted something simple but tasteful. Natural light was a must. You know how it is.”

Wooyoung nods beside you like he deeply, deeply understands the weight of natural light, and you catch the subtle twitch at the corner of his mouth.

“And this-” Hana gestures grandly as she opens a set of double doors. “This is my favorite room. The light in here at golden hour? Unreal. We had the cushions custom made to match the ceiling beams. And the books are mostly for decoration, but it kind of gives the right mood, don’t you think?”

You nod along politely, half-listening, while Wooyoung leans down slightly, his voice warm and low against your ear.

“Do you think if I mention natural light three more times, we unlock a secret level of the tour?”

Your breath hitches with a soft laugh, and before you can stop yourself, you tilt your head slightly toward him, shoulder brushing his chest. His smile lingers like he’s proud of himself, but there’s something else behind it too, something quieter. The way your face lights up when you laugh, how you don’t pull away. It flickers in his chest and sits there, unexpected.

His hand lingers a little longer at the small of your back as you follow Hana to the next room.

The dinner table is lively, plates are passed around, and glasses are filled as casual conversation flows. Across the table, your ex is quiet. He hasn’t said much all night, just observed. His smile is polite, his presence steady, but you can feel his gaze on you every now and then, especially when Wooyoung leans in to refill your glass or casually touches your wrist while talking.

The group is in a comfortable rhythm, and just as you're about to take a bite of your food, one of the guests leans back in their chair with a curious smile.

“So how did you two meet each other?”

You freeze, your mind racing. And across from you, you swear you see your ex stiffen slightly, eyes narrowing just the tiniest bit.

Wooyoung notices immediately.

He smiles at you, that teasing, mischievous look in his eyes as he leans forward, taking the cue. He opens his mouth, and suddenly, his voice fills the room. Smooth, charming, and effortlessly natural.

"Oh, this one’s my favorite story," he says, his voice warm and playful, his eyes lighting up as if he's about to tell the most incredible tale.

He pauses for dramatic effect, glancing at you, making sure you’re paying attention. You give him a quick nod, still unsure of where he’s going with this.

“It was one of those nights you’re not even supposed to go out, you know? I almost canceled.” He lets out a soft laugh, glancing at you. “But then she walked in.”

Everyone leans in slightly, curious.

“She wasn’t supposed to be there either, actually. Our friend had to convince her. She was tired, had a long week,” He looks at you briefly, as if asking permission with his eyes, but his smile says he already knows you’ll let him go on.

“She came in late, a little out of breath, tucking her hair behind her ear, apologizing even though no one noticed. And I swear-” He leans back, that crooked smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. “-the second I saw her, I forgot what I was saying mid-sentence. Just totally lost it. My friend thought I was choking on my drink.”

Soft laughter bubbles around the table. Your cheeks warm.

“She sat right across from me, and I swear I didn’t hear a single thing anyone else said the whole night. I spent the night trying to make her laugh.”

It’s smooth, too smooth, but his tone is light, playful, like he’s just telling a fond memory, not spinning an elaborate lie. He continues, eyes sparkling.

“I asked for her number before we left, and she said no.”

A small gasp comes from someone at the table, and Wooyoung grins like he’s telling a bedtime story.

“She said I seemed like the kind of guy who flirts with everyone.” More laughter. Wooyoung presses a hand to his chest in mock offense. “Which-, okay, fair. But I wasn't flirting with her… or maybe I was, but I just wanted to keep talking to her. So I said, ‘If she doesn’t want to give it to me, fine, I’ll earn it.’ And I kept showing up whenever our friend invited people out. I'd always make sure to sit next to her. Always brought something small. Coffee, gum, dumb stuff, just to have an excuse to talk.”

He looks at you then. Really looks at you.

“And eventually… she let me walk her home.”

Someone lets out a little aww.

“I didn’t try anything,” he adds. “I just wanted to stretch out the moment as long as I could. I think we stood outside her door for half an hour just talking. I memorized the color of her front light. The chipped tile on her step. Her laugh.”

The table is completely silent.

“And the next time?” His smile curves wider. “She kissed me first. Which I will never let her forget.”

The table is enchanted.

For a moment after Wooyoung finishes, there’s a soft, stunned silence, like everyone’s holding their breath without realizing it. Then:

“Oh my God,” someone breathes.

The woman across from you nudges her partner. “You never chased me like that.”

“You didn’t run,” he deadpans.

“So you’re telling me you saw her once and just knew?” another friend adds, reaching for more wine.

“I told our mutual friend to introduce us, and he said ‘don’t bother.’” He stretches his arm along the back of your chair, fingers lightly brushing the bare skin of your shoulder. “So obviously I did the exact opposite.”

The table erupts with laughter. Real, full, warm.

“God, that sounds so like you,” Hana laughs, sending you a playful glance.

Laughter bubbles around the table, easy and entertained.

But not from everyone.

Across the table, your ex’s grip on his fork tightens, just for a moment. Not dramatic, not enough to draw attention from anyone else, but you see it. The twitch in his jaw. The way he shifts back in his chair like he needs space to breathe.

Wooyoung leans in slightly, hand still resting lightly behind your neck now, fingers brushing just enough to make it look natural. Intimate.

“And when she finally said yes,” he adds, voice lower now, more deliberate, “I knew I wasn’t gonna let her go.”

Your chest tightens.

The air feels heavier.

Meanwhile, you’re frozen in place, staring at your wine glass, heart racing as if you lived every second of that made-up story. You catch someone across the table watching you with a knowing smile, clearly convinced you're the luckiest girl alive.

And for a second, just one, you almost believe it too.

The rest of the dinner unfolds like a well-rehearsed play. Light laughter, wine refills, soft clinks of cutlery against porcelain. Conversation drifts easily between the couples, like they’ve all known each other forever, even if some only met tonight. And somehow, you and Wooyoung fall into it without trying.

After the dinner, the buzz of conversation in the living room fades as you step quietly down the hallway toward the bathroom. You need a second to breathe, just a minute alone after everything that’s happened tonight.

You close the bathroom door behind you and lean against it for a moment, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding. Wooyoung’s charming story about how you met still lingers in your mind, and the way everyone seemed so enchanted by him... it felt like something out of a movie. It had been easy to get swept up in it all, even though it was completely fabricated.

After a few moments, you open the bathroom door and nearly jump out of your skin.

Wooyoung is standing right there in the hallway, hands in his pockets like he’s just been casually waiting. His gaze flicks up to meet yours immediately, and a slow, knowing smile pulls at his lips.

He doesn’t say anything right away, just leans his shoulder against the doorframe, arms now crossed, like he’s settling in.

You swallow hard. “You scared me.”

“Did I?” His voice is low, soft. Like a secret passed between friends. “Sorry. You just disappeared.”

“I needed a second. Too many couples,” you say, attempting a light laugh that comes out a bit thin. “Too much… love.”

“So?” he murmurs beside you. “How am I doing?”

You glance at him, eyebrows raised.

“The fake boyfriend thing,” he adds with a sly grin. “Convincing enough for you?”

You shrug, but your smile gives you away. “I’ve seen worse performances.”

“Cold,” he mutters, holding a hand over his chest like you’ve wounded him. “Here I am, carrying the entire romance on my back.”

You laugh quietly, then shake your head, your voice dropping again. “Honestly, I think everyone at the table wants to date you now.”

“Jealous?” he says, all teeth and sparkle, but his voice is soft, teasing rather than cocky.

You roll your eyes, even as your stomach flips. “Please.”

Then he tilts his head, studying you. His tone shifts, still playful, but quieter. “You know, you’re still a little pink.”

You blink. “What?”

“Your cheeks,” he says, nodding toward them. “Blushing. Again.”

You cross your arms instinctively, heart picking up pace. “I’m not.”

“You are,” he whispers. He leans a little closer. “It’s kinda cute.”

Your breath catches.

“You’re insufferable,” you whisper, smiling despite yourself.

“And you’re adorable when you’re flustered.”

The moment hangs, just a little too long. You’re standing in the dim hallway, lights soft, voices muffled behind walls, and he’s looking at you like this is his favorite part of the night.

You clear your throat, trying to reset something in the air. “We should go back.”

“Yeah,” he says, straightening slowly. “Before someone thinks we’re sneaking off to make out.”

Wooyoung straightens just a little, the moment sliding away like water off skin. He gives you one last glance, a wink for good measure, then turns and walks toward the others. That leaves you standing in the hallway, heart racing, wondering why his lazy confidence always makes it hard to tell when he’s joking and when he isn’t.

You follow behind, still feeling the blush he called out.

You offer to help Hana out in the kitchen. Wooyoung is busy winning everybody’s hearts with his charm, so you aren’t concerned about him.

You rinse off a plate, hands moving on autopilot as you stack it neatly on the drying rack. Hana leans against the counter beside you, sipping the last of her wine, her smile still painted on from dinner. “Seriously though,” she says, nudging your hip with hers, “I wasn’t expecting you to show up with someone like that.”

You huff a laugh. “Like what?”

“Like… funny. Hot. Charismatic. The way he talks about you?” She raises a brow. “Unreal.”

You smile, tight-lipped. “Yeah. He’s something.”

“I mean…” She grins. “You glow around him. It’s wild. Like, he looks at you like he’s already picking out your wedding venue.”

You laugh, quiet, awkward. “He’s just… sweet.”

Hana raises her brows. “He’s obsessed. In a good way.” She tilts her head toward the hallway. “I’m gonna go grab the wine opener. Don’t let me forget it again. Be back in a sec.”

The back door clicks shut behind her, and silence settles again. It’s nice for a moment, just you, the clink of cutlery, the steam from the sink. You keep washing dishes, grateful for the moment alone.

But it doesn’t last.

You hear movement behind you. Slow. Hesitant.

You turn your head and freeze.

It’s him.

Your ex.

He stands just past the threshold, hands in his pockets, gaze locked on you. He steps in without saying anything at first. Just lingers a little too close to the kitchen island, his eyes scanning your face like he’s trying to figure out what he’s seeing.

“I didn’t think you’d come,” he says.

You dry your hands on a towel, steadying yourself. “Clearly.”

He takes a step in. Not too close, but enough to unsettle you.

His eyes flick around the room, then land back on you. “You look good.”

You sigh quietly, turning back to the sink. “Don’t do that.”

“I’m just saying.”

Another beat.

You hear him shift again, leaning slightly against the island behind you. You can feel his eyes on your back.

“That guy,” he says finally. “The one who came with you. Wooyoung.”

You don’t look at him. “What about him?”

He hesitates. Then, carefully: “Are you two… serious?”

You pause, then shrug. “That’s none of your business.”

He lets out a low breath. “So that’s a yes.”

You turn slowly, facing him now. “Why are you here, really?”

“In my own house?”

“No,” you say. “Why are you in this kitchen, right now?”

He stares at you. Silent.

“I fucked up,” he blurts, “Okay? I know I did. I’ve been thinking about it since-”

“Don’t,” you snap, but still keeping your voice down so the rest of the party won't hear. “You don’t get to come here, pretend we’re still something, and then act surprised that I moved on. You’re married.”

His mouth opens, then closes. He looks at you like you’ve just hit him.

“You moved on?” he repeats, like the words are bitter on his tongue. “With him?”

You step back. “You don’t know him.”

He scoffs. “I might not, but I can still see how insufferable he is.”

You stare at him, lips parted in disbelief. “Jealousy doesn’t look good on you.”

He takes another step forward, eyes sharper now. “I just don’t get it. After everything-”

“No,” you say firmly, holding your hand up. “You don’t get anything. You lost the right to have an opinion the second you slept with someone else.”

There’s a beat of silence. Your heart pounds in your ears.

And then…

“Everything okay in here?” Wooyoung’s voice is cold. Threatening almost.

You don’t need to look. You feel it, the air shifting, the way the atmosphere bends around his presence. But you still turn your head. And it steadies you instantly.

He’s leaning in the doorway. One hand tucked into the pocket of his slacks, the other hanging loose at his side. His posture is relaxed. His expression? Somewhere between nonchalance and interest.

But his eyes?

They’re fixed on your ex.

And they could kill.

Your ex straightens, caught off guard. “Uh-, yeah. We were just-”

Wooyoung steps fully into the room like he’s walking through water, unconcerned by the tension that’s thick enough to drown in. He nods once, a polite gesture with razor edges, then glances at you.

His voice lowers. Smooth, velvety. Unmistakably his.

“You okay, baby?”

The pet name slips out effortlessly. Like it belongs there. Like you belong to him. Then he closes the space between you and him, his hand brushing the small of your back with casual ownership.

Your breath stutters. “I’m fine.”

His gaze lingers on your ex, sharp enough to make the air hum.

“Then I’ll ask one more time,” he murmurs, voice dipped in steel, eyes locked on your ex. “Is there a problem?”

Your ex lets out a quiet scoff, trying to play it cool. “No problem at all.”

Wooyoung breathes in once, slow.

“Then I’ll make this simple,” he says, softly now. Dangerous soft. “If you’ve got something to say, say it.” He tilts his head, the barest shift of muscle. His smile is slight, almost gentle, but it doesn’t reach his eyes. “If not…” His jaw tightens just once. “Walk away before you make me repeat myself.”

Your ex doesn’t speak again. Doesn’t look at you. Just leaves.

And Wooyoung watches every step. Tracks him with the kind of gaze that doesn’t flinch. It says everything he hasn’t:

Try it again. I dare you.

When it’s just the two of you again, Wooyoung’s fingers trace your spine once, barely there. A silent check-in.

Then, slowly, his focus shifts. Back to you.

His voice drops. Low. Controlled.

“You okay?”

You nod once, but it’s tight. Too tight. And he sees it.

His brows pinch just slightly. “Did he say something?”

“No,” you whisper, and it’s true, mostly. “He was just… being him.”

Wooyoung exhales slowly through his nose, jaw clenching. Like he’s trying not to say something that would ruin the whole night. But then he looks at you, really looks at you, and something in him softens. Just a little.

His hand slides from your back to your waist, anchoring you close. He studies your face for a moment, like he’s not fully convinced, but then he exhales and gives a small nod back.

“I didn’t want to step in too early,” he says, voice soft now. “You looked like you had it under control. You did.”

There’s something warm in your chest at that, that he trusted you to hold your own.

You meet his eyes.

He’s not angry.

He’s present.

“I know you don’t need anyone to defend you,” he says, quieter now. “But I’m here. If you ever want me to.”

That part lingers. A gentle offering.

You smile faintly. “Thanks.”

He leans just a little closer, his voice dipping like he doesn’t want to be overheard, even by the walls, and something wicked flickers at the corner of his mouth. “Guess I’ll have to make it clearer you’re taken.”

Your heart skips a beat.

His hand gives your waist the faintest squeeze, not possessive, just sure. Then he straightens up, tone lighter, a glint in his eye as he teases, “You ready to go back out there, or should we hide out in here a little longer?”

You smile. “Let’s go.”

Wooyoung laces his fingers with yours as you step out of the kitchen. He doesn’t say much. Just keeps his hand on you, sometimes at your back, sometimes curled around your fingers, like he doesn’t trust the room not to try and touch you.

The energy around him simmers low. Controlled. Patient.

But it’s there.

You feel it in the way his gaze lingers a little too long when you make eye contact The way his thumb brushes your skin when you pass your ex. Like a fuse waiting for flame.

The evening moves on. Laughter. Drinks. Music humming low in the background. But that energy never leaves him.

Then, after another drink, his palm slides against your waist as he leans in, murmuring just low enough for only you to hear. “Come outside with me for a sec?”

You glance up, surprised by the quiet invitation, but nod. “Yeah. Okay."

He takes your hand and leads you through the back door, into the cool hush of the backyard. String lights sway gently above. A few scattered chairs dot the patio, mostly empty.

He pulls you just far enough into the yard that you’re framed under the golden light, a sight impossible to miss. Then he stops just enough to pull you in close, his hands resting firmly on your waist. His breath brushes your neck as he leans in, voice low and a little teasing.

“Do you trust me?”

You meet his gaze, smiling without hesitation, but a little confused. “Of course.”

But before you can say anything more, he leans in, no warning, no hesitation, and his mouth finds your neck.

Slow. Deliberate. Unapologetically possessive.

His grip on your waist tightens, firm and grounding, like he's anchoring himself to you, or maybe keeping you exactly where he wants you.

Your fingers twitch, aching to clutch at his shirt, his shoulders, anything. But he doesn’t stop. His mouth keeps moving, tongue flicking, lips parting as he sucks softly at the spot just above your collarbone, lazy, indulgent, filthy in how intimate it feels.

You gasp, hips tilting forward instinctively, heat already pooling low and heavy in your belly. He doesn’t miss it, he hums against your throat like he felt it happen.

Wooyoung pulls back just enough to murmur, voice thick and close to your ear, “You weren’t expecting that, huh?”

His tone is teasing, pleased, like he knows exactly what he’s doing to you. Then he leans back in, grazing your neck again, his nose brushing over the same spot he just kissed.

“Fake boyfriend of the year, right?” he adds, a low smirk in his voice.

It pulls a laugh from you, too real, too soft, and he chuckles under his breath like he lives for the sound.

And then he looks up.

Over your shoulder.

Still smiling.

You don’t turn. You don’t even realize why his gaze has sharpened. But Wooyoung knows. He’s known from the moment he stepped outside.

“Oh, hey,” he says, just loud enough, like the thought only now occurred to him. “Didn’t see you there.”

You blink, startled, then turn.

And there he is.

Your ex is sitting in the far corner of the backyard, posture stiff, one hand loosely holding a glass of something amber that he’s no longer drinking. He’s been watching, long enough, clearly. His eyes flick from your face to where Wooyoung’s hand rests against your hip like it was made to be there. His mouth is drawn in a line so tight it might split.

He’d been watching.

Wooyoung's arm wraps a little tighter around your waist. Not possessive. Not aggressive. Just… secure. Like he has every right to hold you like this. Like he dares anyone to question it.

“Didn’t mean to interrupt,” Wooyoung says, cool and lazy.

Your ex stares, jaw tight.

Wooyoung doesn’t wait. His posture is casual, but there’s a glint in his eye that betrays him, too amused, too at-ease.

“Nice night, isn’t it?” he adds, like it’s nothing. “Stars out. Music inside. My girl tastes like sangria. Hard to complain.”

You stiffen slightly, but Wooyoung doesn’t flinch. He’s still smiling faintly, watching you with that unbothered, pretty-boy charm that somehow makes everything worse.

Your ex lifts his drink and mutters, “Some of us came out here to be alone.”

Wooyoung cocks his head. “Oh, totally fair. Should’ve said something.”

There’s a beat of silence, sharp enough to cut through. But he doesn’t move. He stays planted right there beside you, hand still snug on your waist like it belongs there.

Then he blinks, as if struck by a thought.

“Oh-, wait,” he says, voice still sweet. “You want us back inside?” He huffs a quiet laugh, almost apologetic. “Damn. That’s on me.”

Your ex sets his glass down with a soft clink on the stone railing. “You always this annoying?”

Wooyoung grins. “Only when I’m in a good mood.”

“Y/N! Wooyoung!”

Hana bursts out, loud and glowing, wine glass in one hand, joy practically spilling out of her. Her eyes land on you both and she lights up like the fourth of July.

“Oh my God, there you are!” she grins. “I was about to come get you, everyone keeps asking where the hot couple went!”

You see your ex stiffen. Wooyoung’s smile stretches.

“Hot couple,” he echoes, biting back a laugh.

Hana gasps dramatically. “Don’t act shy now! You two are disgusting. I love it.”

“I'm not mad about it. She’s got great taste,” Wooyoung teases with a little shrug, for a second glancing over at your ex. “Eventually.”

Your ex’s jaw tightens. He looks like he might speak.

But Wooyoung leans in one last time, whispering low into your ear, voice soft enough to make your skin spark:

"Success, baby"

He smirks before sliding his hand into yours, pulling you gently toward the house where Hana is waiting, oblivious to the tension left behind.

The night has mellowed. The lights are dim, the wine is flowing, and laughter has started to echo easier around the table. Someone’s passed around dessert, tiramisu in glass jars, and Wooyoung’s excused himself to the bathroom with that lazy, effortless vibe only he can pull off without trying. You’d felt his hand brush your shoulder as he left, and it still lingers there somehow, phantom-warm.

Hana’s had just enough wine to get bold. She sits across from you, grinning over the rim of her glass.

“Okay,” she says, loudly enough to cut across the overlapping chatter. “New question for the couples.”

The table quiets, interest piqued.

Her eyes land on you like a spotlight. “What’s your favorite physical thing about your partner?”

A few groans. Someone throws a napkin in her direction.

“Don’t roll your eyes,” she warns, laughing. “And no safe answers either. I don’t want to hear about how they ‘have a nice smile’ or ‘beautiful eyes’, everyone says that. I want the thing. The detail. The part of them that does it for you when you’re not even trying to look. The one that makes your brain short-circuit a little.”

You laugh, swallowing a little too quickly. The wine burns, and suddenly the air feels too warm.

“I’ll go last,” Hana says, clearly loving this. “Y/N, go.”

You freeze. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Her smile is practically villainous. “He’s not even here. You can be honest.”

Everyone chuckles. The pressure thickens.

You hesitate, lips parting, unsure. Your eyes flick toward the hallway where Wooyoung disappeared. As if he might walk in just in time to save you.

But he doesn’t.

You clear your throat and say, maybe a little too honestly, “His hands.”

“Ooh,” someone says. “That’s a good one.”

You glance down at the table, fingers curling around your wine glass. “They’re just… nice,” you say, not looking up. “He moves them a lot when he talks. And they’re always doing something. Tapping, pulling at a sleeve, playing with his rings or-, whatever. Just always… moving.”

Your voice quiets as the room listens. You feel exposed, like you said something too intimate.

You don’t realize the room has fallen silent. Until it hits you that no one’s said anything back.

And then...

“I should leave more often if this is what I get to come back to.”

And Wooyoung is standing just behind you, leaning lazily against the doorway, arms crossed, one brow raised in interest.

Your breath halts.

There’s laughter again around the table, but your throat goes dry. Hana’s grinning at the perfect timing. “There he is,” she says, wiggling her brows. “Right on cue. We’re playing favorites.”

Wooyoung raises a brow. “Favorites?”

“Favorite physical thing about each other,” she explains, eyes sparkling. “And no cop-outs like smile or eyes. We’re talking the thing. The detail that ruins you. Your turn”

He chuckles under his breath, clearly amused. He doesn’t hesitate.

“Her neck.”

A beat of silence. His voice is smooth but deliberate, like the words were waiting in his mouth.

You feel your body go still.

Then he moves, slowly, stepping closer behind your chair, his hand brushing your shoulder as he comes to a stop. You’re suddenly very aware of how exposed your skin is where your top dips to your collarbone, of how warm the air feels even though he hasn’t touched you.

“She’s got this curve,” he says, quieter now, like he’s letting everyone else fade out. “Right here," His fingers trace the slope where your neck meets your shoulder, so lightly it barely counts as a touch. “Right where her hair rests.”

Then his tone shifts, warmer, quieter. Real.

“In the mornings,” he says, like he’s letting the rest of the room fall away, “when she’s still half-asleep and pulls her hair up without thinking. Stretching, yawning, no makeup, nothing, this part’s just exposed. The light hits it, and I swear to God-” He cuts himself off with a low exhale, shaking his head with a crooked smile. “It makes it really hard to be on time for anything.”

The silence that follows is a different kind of hush. Not teasing. Not performative.

It’s weighted. Personal.

Like maybe, just maybe, he wasn’t making any of that up. You don’t even realize you’re holding your breath until he pulls back, barely.

“Plus,” he adds, a lazy grin playing on his lips, “it’s really unfair that you smell the way you do.”

“Okay, damn,” someone says from across the table, but you can’t even register who.

Wooyoung finally moves, slipping back into the seat beside you. But he doesn’t lean back, doesn’t settle into comfort like before. He sits just a little closer than he needs to. His thigh brushes yours. Warm. Steady. You don’t move.

The game rolls on, Hana gesturing to the couple across from you with a flourish, their answer met with giggles and teasing. But the background fades, soft, foggy, because you feel it. The weight of Wooyoung’s stare.

When you finally turn your head, you find him already watching you.

And everything in his face is different.

Gone is the cocky smile, the playful glint in his eye. He’s quiet now. Studying you, like he’s not sure where the line is anymore. Like maybe he doesn’t want to know.

And then, another gaze.

You catch it from the corner of your eye: your ex, sitting stiff at the far end of the table, his expression unreadable. He’s watching Wooyoung like a hawk, jaw tight, mouth set in a firm line.

Wooyoung senses it. You can feel the shift in him, the small breath he takes. The flicker of heat in his chest, like he might respond, say something, smirk just to provoke.

But he doesn’t.

Because it’s not about him anymore.

After a few more rounds of the game, you step into the hallway and let your back hit the wall with a quiet sigh. The noise from the living room still hums faintly behind you, laughter, the clink of glasses, someone shuffling a deck of cards. It’s warm in there, but your skin feels too tight. You just need a minute.

You close your eyes.

Footsteps approach, soft, familiar.

Wooyoung slips into the hallway like he’s done it a hundred times, like he always knows when you need the space. He falls in beside you, close but not crowding, his shoulder hovering just shy of yours as he leans against the wall.

“You always vanish when it gets too loud,” he says, his voice low.

You keep your eyes forward, a faint smile tugging at your lips. “I don’t vanish. I relocate.”

He hums. “Right. Into hallways. Or kitchen corners. Or that one time it was behind the couch.”

“That was one time.”

“It was still dramatic,” he teases, nudging your arm lightly. Your breath catches, just a little. It’s playful. It’s Wooyoung. But something about the way he talks makes your stomach flip.

“You look really pretty tonight.”

The words land like a spark, and your breath catches before you can help it. You blink up at him, startled.

“I-, what?”

He grins, slow and lopsided. “Just saying. I don’t think I told you earlier.”

You feel your face flush, warmth blooming across your cheeks, down your neck. You look away instantly, trying to mask it with a half-laugh.

“I’m honest,” he counters, still looking at you. You can feel it, the weight of his gaze, the way it lingers. “I mean, you always look good, but tonight…” His voice dips, softer now. “It’s kind of unfair.”

You glance away, suddenly hyperaware of how close he’s standing. “You can’t just say things like that.”

“Why not?” he asks, leaning just slightly toward you. “Is it that hard to believe? Do I need to be faking a relationship for you to believe it?”

You don’t answer. You’re not sure you can. Your heart’s already too loud in your ears.

He nudges your arm gently. “You know, for someone who lives with me, you’re really bad at accepting compliments.”

You try to play it off. “Maybe you just give too many.”

“Mm,” he muses. “Or maybe you’re just really easy to compliment.”

You let out a breathy sound somewhere between a scoff and a laugh, tucking your chin down in embarrassment. “Can you not?”

You finally glance at him, and he’s already watching you with that infuriatingly unreadable look, somewhere between playful and serious. Like he’s holding back.

He doesn’t say anything else for a second. He just looks at you.

And somehow, that says more than the rest.

You try not to smile. You fail.

Wooyoung pushes himself off the wall with a lazy stretch, then turns his body to face you, effectively placing his back toward the living room.

“Come back in when you’re ready,” he says softly, his voice carrying that usual teasing warmth. “You don’t have to rush. But I’ll be on my seat, being distractingly attractive… in case that helps.”

You almost laugh, but then your eyes drift past him.

Your stomach dips.

Your ex is standing just inside the living room, half-shadowed but unmistakably watching. His expression is unreadable, his eyes sharp and fixed directly on you.

“Wait,” you breathe, reaching out without thinking.

You grab Wooyoung’s shirt and pull him a little closer. He stumbles forward a step, surprised but not resisting. His brows furrow slightly in confusion as he looks down at you.

“Do you trust me?” you ask now, your voice quieter now. There’s a tremor in it, not fear, but urgency. Purpose.

Wooyoung’s expression shifts, softening. “Yes,” he says, instantly. “Of course.”

That’s all you need.

Your hands move quickly, one sliding up to the back of his neck, the other gripping the front of his shirt. You rise onto your toes and kiss him. Firm and deliberate. Lips meeting his in a way that leaves no room for questions. His mouth parts slightly in surprise, but he doesn’t pull away. If anything, he leans in.

When you break the kiss just slightly, you don’t step back. You stay close, close enough that your lips graze his as you whisper, “He’s watchi-,”

You don’t get to finish. Wooyoung’s lips are on yours again before you even register, like they need to be. Like he doesn’t care about why you kissed him, or for who, but because he can’t stop now that you’ve let it happen.

This time it’s deeper. Hungrier.

You can’t help but deepen the kiss when he slides his tongue slightly into your mouth, and one of his hands slips down to your lower back, guiding you closer. The other lifts to your jaw, gentle but sure. l

You feel your back press lightly into the wall behind you as he moves with you, not rough, but insistent. The kind of kiss that drowns everything else out, conversation, footsteps, your ex’s presence across the room.

His lips part yours, his breath hot and heavy against your cheek between kisses. His grip tightens at your waist, grounding you. You respond instinctively, hands curling into his shirt, lips moving with his, matching every shift and tilt of his head.

It’s a performance. That’s how it started.

But it doesn’t feel like one anymore.

It feels like heat, like want, like a spark that caught fire the second you gave it permission. And he’s kissing you like he’s not planning to stop anytime soon.

And for just a second, you let yourself melt into it. Into him.

But then… it passes.

The air changes again.

You blink and glance over to the living room. Your ex is gone. Vanished back into the room. Wooyoung slows, then stops. His hands remain on you, his breath still a little uneven.

You pull back first, just enough to look at him.

His eyes are already on you. There’s something different there now, an emotion you haven’t seen from him before. Not just playfulness, not just comfort. Something heavier. Hungrier.

You force a small, awkward smile and drop your hands from his neck, stepping back just slightly. “Okay,” you say, clearing your throat. “I think that worked.”

Wooyoung doesn’t say anything for a second. He just studies you like he’s seeing you clearly for the first time. Then he nods, slow and unreadable, and finally, he smiles. But it’s not quite the same. Something about it is quieter. Almost reverent.

At the end of the night, shoes shuffle at the door. Coats rustle. The air is heavy with the kind of tired that follows too much wine and too much pretending.

“Get home safe, okay?” Hana says warmly, stepping toward you both as you’re about to leave. Her smile is soft, a little teasing. “You two are seriously adorable. Like… sickening. I love it.”

You laugh, a bit breathlessly, already halfway into your coat. But before you can say anything, Wooyoung’s arm snakes naturally around your waist, casual, confident. You feel his fingers press into your side, warm through the fabric.

“Thanks, Hana,” he says, flashing her a grin. “She keeps me in line.”

You roll your eyes and glance up at him, but the smile tugging at your lips is real, too real. “Barely,” you murmur, playing along.

His eyes flick to yours for a second. Just long enough to make your stomach twist.

Hana grins and gives you both a quick hug before stepping back into the house. “Bye, lovebirds.”

The door closes behind you.

The air outside bites cold against your skin.

And just like that, his arm drops from your waist. The performance ends.

Neither of you says a word as you walk to the curb. You don’t know if it’s the silence or the absence of his touch that makes the air feel heavier now, but it’s different.

The cab pulls up with a soft screech. He opens the door for you like always, waits for you to slide in, then follows without a word. The car is warm, too warm, and too quiet.

You're both staring straight ahead.

The streetlights flicker past, painting gold across his face. In the confined space, the silence between you buzzes, thick with something unspoken, something ignited hours ago that neither of you has dared to acknowledge.

The apartment door clicks shut behind you with a softness that feels far too loud in the quiet.

Coats are hung. Shoes are kicked off. The scent of his usual candle lingers in the air, citrus and something darker underneath. Normally comforting. Now it just makes your heart beat faster.

Wooyoung heads to the kitchen without a word. His shoulders are relaxed, but there’s something taut underneath it all. You hesitate in the hallway, watching him open the cabinet, sleeves pushed to his elbows, veins still prominent down his forearms from earlier, and you hate how you notice.

You drift into the kitchen slowly, lingering by the edge of the counter.

“So,” you offer, light and a little too bright, “that was fun, right? Peak acting performance. Someone give us Oscars.”

No answer. He fills the glass with water from the tap, moves with that same quiet ease, but doesn’t glance at you once.

You try again, a bit more playful. “Think we fooled them? I mean, your story about how we met really sold it. Ten out of ten commitment.”

He finally looks at you, just looks. And it’s a look that completely steals the breath from your chest. Calm, dark, unreadable. His eyes are locked on yours like he's waiting for you to crack first. And suddenly you're hyperaware of everything. How hot your cheeks feel, how your voice might've sounded too eager, how the silence seems to wrap around your body like a second skin.

You clear yours softly. “Anyway. Um. I’m gonna-, I think I’m just gonna head to bed.”

Still nothing from him.

You nod quickly. “Night.”

You turn, heart hammering now, and you’ve only made it a step or two down the hall when his voice floats to you, quiet, even.

“If you ever need a fake boyfriend again…”

You stop. Your fingers twitch at your side.

“…you know where to find me.”

You turn back toward him slowly. He’s still in the kitchen, leaning back against the counter, glass in hand, eyes unreadable, but fixed on you like he’s daring you to say something. To ask him what he means. To call him out.

You don’t.

You meet his gaze, and it’s only for a second, but something heavy passes between you, something weighty and unspoken that neither of you wants to name.

Then you nod.

Not a joking nod. Not one meant to brush things off. Just… quiet acknowledgement. You walk off with your heartbeat pounding in your ears, like your body knows something your mind hasn’t caught up with. You don’t look back, but you feel his eyes on you the whole way down the hall.

The door clicks softly shut behind you.

And for a long time, you just stand there in the silence of your room, pulse racing, breath held, trying to figure out what exactly that was.

You don’t even remember walking to your vanity. You’ve just been standing here, fingers curled loosely along the edge, eyes locked on your reflection like it might give you answers. But all it gives you is the echo of him. His words. His gaze. His lips on yours. The way your body reacted like it knew something you didn’t.

There’s a knock.

A soft one.

You straighten up fast, like you’re guilty of something. “Come in.”

The door creaks open behind you.

You meet his gaze through the mirror as he strolls in, easy and casual, like it’s the most natural thing in the world for him to be here, in your space, late at night.

He doesn’t say anything right away. Just leans against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching you.

You manage a breath. “Not tired?”

His shoulders lift in the faintest shrug. “Not really.”

Then silence again.

But it’s not awkward, it’s thick. Charged.

“I was thinking about something,” he finally says, his voice smooth, a little playful.

You glance at him in the mirror, trying not to let your pulse jump. “Yeah? About what?”

Wooyoung pushes off the frame, making his way toward you at an unhurried pace. “You’re better at this whole fake relationship thing than you give yourself credit for.”

You attempt a shrug. “Just playing along.”

A soft laugh leaves him. “Mm. Sure.”

He walks further into the room. Not quickly. Not even directly toward you. He slows as he passes by your bed, eyes roaming lazily over the space like he’s trying to memorize it. But you know that’s not what this is.

He’s letting the silence stretch.

He’s letting you squirm.

You glance at him through the mirror, just as he finally makes his way behind you.

You don’t move.

You can’t.

He stops right behind you, not touching, but close. You keep your eyes locked on the mirror, but it’s no use. He’s everywhere now. In your space. In your breath.

��And the things you said tonight,” he says, voice soft but pointed. “Those were part of the act too?”

You try to keep your tone even. “What things?”

He tilts his head. “The part where you said you like my hands. That you stare at them when I’m not looking.”

You freeze just slightly.

"I-, uhm... I dont-..." You glance down instinctively, suddenly very aware of your own hands fidgeting.

“Funny,” he says softly, “You think I haven’t noticed? When I’m cooking. When I’m fixing something around the apartment. You always get quiet.”

His hand lifts, fingertips brushing your hair gently off your shoulder. You shiver as he lowers his voice again.

“I meant what I said, by the way,” he says. “I do love your neck.”

You don’t answer, but he doesn’t need you to.

“In the mornings,” he murmurs. “When you’re in the kitchen, still half asleep, standing by the window. Your head tilts just a little. That soft little spot here,” he gestures near your collarbone, but still doesn’t touch. “barely covered.”

You’re not breathing properly now.

“And I try,” he continues, “I really try to keep it together, but you standing there like that…? That does something to me.”

You let out a slow, shaky breath, shoulders dropping ever so slightly.

His fingers trail lightly along the back of your neck, not quite touching skin yet, but enough to make you lean into it. He steps in fully now, his hands finding your waist, and you instinctively lean back into him.

And then, finally, his mouth brushes your neck. Gentle. Slow. A teasing press that turns into something deeper. You feel the smile against your skin as he kisses again, and again, lower this time, until your knees threaten to give.

You gasp, just a little, and he smiles against your throat.

“You know,” he starts, voice casual, “if this wasn’t fake…”

Your breath hitches.

“…I would’ve done a lot of things differently tonight.”

You swallow hard. “Like what?”

He trails one finger along your side, feather-light, just enough to make you squirm.

“If this wasn’t fake…” he begins, like it’s casual, like he’s not setting you on fire, “I wouldn’t have let you leave my side once tonight. I would’ve had my hand on you the whole dinner, your thigh, your back, the curve of your hip, just to remind you who you belong to.”

Your stomach tightens.

He brushes his fingers lightly along your sides, not quite ticklish, just maddeningly slow.

“I’d bring you home,” he continues, lips nearly brushing the shell of your ear, “take your hand, lead you to your room like I’ve been waiting to all night. And I wouldn’t rush it. No pretending, no performance. Just you. Me. And the dress I’ve been dying to take off you.”

He trails his knuckles lightly down your side, slow and reverent.

“I’d unzip it real slow…”

You hear the faintest shift of fabric.

“Let it slip off your shoulders while I kissed right here…” he presses a single, feather-light kiss to the side of your neck, “and here…” another just below your ear, “until you were shivering.”

Your eyes flutter closed, and he watches your reflection like he’s memorizing the moment.

“Do you want me to stop?” he whispers just below your ear.

You’re at a loss for words but you’re hungry for more. You shake your head as you swallow, but realise how dry your mouth is. His hands slide up your sides, warm, sure, with a smile on his face.

“If it hadn't been fake, I’d press you against this vanity,” he goes on, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Make you watch as I touched every inch of your skin.”

You can’t look away from the mirror, from the image of his hands exploring you, slow and confident, like he’s known this body forever.

“I’d hold your hips right here.” His hands grip you firmly, positioning your body with ease. “And I’d make sure the only thing you remembered from tonight was how I made you feel.”

"Yeah?" you manage to say, too invested in everything he's saying.

“If this wasn’t fake…” he murmurs, his hands still on you, tracing the curve of your body as if he owns it. “I’d make you see stars. I’d fuck you right here, make you forget you were ever pretending.”

You let out a light gasp, feeling your heart in your throat.

He presses against you, his hand finding its way to your neck, just enough to make you tilt your head back, exposing more of that sensitive skin. He breathes softly against it.

“You’d be mine. I’d make sure you knew it, every fucking inch of you.”

You’re a breath away from crumbling, your chest rising and falling in rapid succession as you realize how much you want him, how easily you’re giving into the fantasy.

His lips are still close to your ear, breath warm, voice impossibly soft.

“But then again…” he murmurs, the barest smile in his tone, “this is all fake… isn’t it?”

You stiffen.

He lets out a low chuckle, his nose skimming the line of your jaw as he continues, casually cruel in the way only he can be. “None of this would actually happen. I mean, why would it?”

"Why not?" you barely let out a whisper.

His fingers drag slowly down your sides, feather-light, torturously teasing. He’s pretending to think, pretending to be thoughtful, but he knows exactly what he’s doing. “You and me, coming home after a night like that, all dressed up, all tense and wired… and me just…” His hand glides over your hips. “Peeling you out of this dress and fucking you over your vanity?”

He hums, tilting his head. “Seems a little far-fetched, don’t you think?”

You inhale sharply, your body practically trembling from restraint.

He leans in again, lips just at your neck now. “You haven’t said much,” he whispers, his hand brushing lower, just enough to make you flinch. “Should I stop?” His fingers press gently into your thighs now, possessive even in their softness. “Because we’re faking it, right?” He lets out a slow, amused breath. “And I’d hate to make things confusing.”

You swallow hard, your mouth dry, your skin flushed everywhere.

“Unless you want me to keep going,” he murmurs, eyes locking with yours in the reflection, darker now, heavy with intent. “But you’d have to say it, sweetheart.”

His fingers trail between your legs, light as a threat.

You grip the edge of the vanity with white knuckles, heart pounding in your throat. “Wooyoung…”

His hand slides up, over your stomach, between your breasts, up to your throat, never squeezing, just there. Possessive. Protective. His lips trail along your shoulder, just above the strap of your dress, while the other hand finally finds the zipper.

“I’d take you like this,” he says lowly, kissing the back of your neck. “Make you look at yourself while I ruin you, slow… deep… mine.”

Your knees nearly give out.

He presses forward just a little more, breath ragged now against your skin. “But maybe we should stop.”

You whimper, actually whimper, and shake your head.

“No, please,” you whisper, your voice breaking apart like the last wall crumbling. "Don't stop."

His hands freeze for just a moment, then he smirks, low and satisfied.

“There she is.”

His smirk deepens, wicked, triumphant. He doesn’t say a word.

Then, with deliberate force, he turns you.

Your back meets the cool edge of the vanity. Before you can fully catch your breath, his veiny hand is already on your throat, firm but careful, guiding your head back just enough to look up at him.

You gasp from the way it makes your knees go weak, the way it makes your heart stutter in your chest.

His gaze drops to your lips. Then slowly, almost torturously, he leans in, breath brushing your mouth, letting you feel the heat of it before he claims you.

The kiss is devastating. Nothing sweet. Nothing soft.

His mouth crashes into yours like he’s starved for it, tongue, teeth, everything. He takes and takes, groaning low in his throat the moment you moan against him. That tiny, helpless sound makes his fingers tighten slightly on your neck, his other hand sliding possessively down your side to your hip.

“God, you sound so pretty when you do that,” he breathes between kisses, voice wrecked.

You melt under him, into him, letting him press you back against the vanity like he wants to fuse you to it. He breaks the kiss with a growl, breath hot against your lips, then suddenly, he spins you again.

You can’t speak. You can’t think. All you can do is feel his hands on your hips, feel the way his body aligns with yours so perfectly it’s almost cruel.

“Still pretending?” he asks, lips brushing the shell of your ear. “Or can I finally touch you like I’ve wanted to all fucking night?”

You nod before he even finishes the sentence. "Yes-, yes please," you whimper, hips tilting back into his, head tipping to give him more of your neck.

He chuckles under his breath.

“Thought so.”

You don’t have a chance to respond before his hands are on you again, more urgent this time. His fingers find the zipper of your dress, and he pulls it down, letting you feel every inch of his focus on you.

The dress slides off your body, pooling at your feet, and he’s quick to step back just enough to take you in. His eyes rake over you like he’s starving. You stand there, vulnerable, under his gaze, and you can’t help the way your body reacts to him. The heat between your legs intensifies, the ache in your chest growing stronger.

“Fuck,” he breathes, eyes raking over you from behind. “You’re a goddamn dream.”

You gasp as he presses you into the vanity, your body trapped between the cool wood and the heat of him. His hands slide down to your thighs, pulling them apart slowly, giving him access, making sure you feel every moment of it. His voice drops to a velvet growl. “I’m gonna make you feel so fucking good, baby. Right here.” His lips press behind your ear again, “Tell me you want it,” he demands.

And you can’t hold back anymore. The tension in your body snaps, and you nod, your breath quickening. “I want it.”

He smirks, a dangerous glint in his eyes. “Good girl.”

His hand presses firmly between your thighs, rubbing you through the soaked fabric with just enough pressure to make your legs weaken beneath you.

He chuckles against your skin when he feels you tremble. “Already this wet for me, baby?”

You nod helplessly, and his free hand slides up your back, tangling in your hair, pulling your head to the side to expose more of your neck.

His teeth graze your pulse point, and you moan again, louder this time. "Look in the mirror as I touch you."

Your breath stutters, lashes fluttering as your gaze locks on the reflection. “Fuck, Wooyoung…” you whisper, already unsteady, your thighs trembling under his stare alone.

Then, with no warning, he hooks a finger in the waistband of your panties and drags them down your thighs, letting them fall. Cool air brushes against your wetness, and your whole body jolts in response.

“Jesus-” you exhale, shivering.

His fingers slide through your slick folds, slow and deliberate, just enough pressure to make you twitch. You moan, sharp and helpless, eyes fluttering closed for a second until he tuts softly beside your ear.

“Eyes open, sweetheart. I said look.”

You obey, forcing your eyes to the mirror again, and the sight of you, glowing, needy, lips parted, legs trembling, draws a sound from deep in your throat.

“That’s it,” he murmurs, kissing just below your ear. “Let me take care of you.”

Then, he pushes in, just one finger at first, thick and deliberate. He doesn’t rush. He presses in knuckle by knuckle, watching your face in the mirror as your lips part and your back arches. The way your body welcomes him makes his cock twitch under the fabrics.

“There we go,” he whispers, dark and pleased. “So fucking tight.”

He gives you a moment to adjust, curling that single finger just right, then pulls back, almost all the way, before pushing in again, deeper this time. You whimper, soft and broken.

“Such a good girl for me,” he murmurs, dragging his lips along your jaw. “You let me in so easily.”

When he slides in a second finger, your knees nearly give out, but he catches you, pressing his chest to your back and flattening his palm over your belly.

You cry out, raw and desperate, body jerking in his arms.

“Right there,” you gasp. “Fuck, right there-, don’t stop, please don’t stop-”

His lips trace your jaw, voice molten.

“Good girl,” he whispers, moving his fingers just the way you need. “Let me hear you.”

And you do.

Loud, unfiltered, desperate for more.

Your hands grip the edge of the vanity. He watches in the mirror as your face twists in pleasure, breath shuddering every time he pumps into you. He doesn’t relent. His fingers are steady, coaxing, relentless, fucking you precisely, like he’s memorizing every reaction.

“Tell me how it feels,” he demands softly.

“So good,” you breathe. “It’s-, god, Wooyoung-”

“That’s right,” he cuts in, curling his fingers deeper. “Say my name like that.”

He shifts just slightly, just enough to hit the spot that sends stars bursting behind your eyes, and keeps that rhythm. Over and over.

“Come on,” he whispers against your ear, his breath hot and ragged. “I can feel it. You’re right there, aren’t you?”

You nod, desperately, eyes fluttering shut.

But he doesn’t let you. His free hand curls around your throat, not squeezing, just holding, guiding you back to the mirror.

“No. Look,” he growls, his voice low and possessive. “I want you to see how good I make you feel. How pretty you look falling apart just for me.”

You force your eyes open, lips parted, eye makeup already smudged, breath shaking, and what you see unravels you: his body pressed to yours, his hand moving between your legs like he owns you, his gaze fixed entirely on your reflection.

The sight of it, the feeling of him everywhere, inside and around you, tips you over the edge.

You cry out, helpless and raw, as your body clenches hard around his fingers. He doesn’t slow. He works you through it, murmuring praise against your ear.

“That’s it,” he groans. “That’s my good girl. So fucking beautiful when you come for me.”

Your hips jerk, grinding into his palm as your orgasm pulses through you, long and overwhelming. When the waves finally ease, your body limp and trembling, he slowly withdraws his fingers, slick and shining.

You shiver, eyes fluttering shut as he presses his hips against you, the thick hardness of him pressing against your thighs.

He suddenly guides you forward, one hand on your back, he presses you down firmly, bending you over.

“Stay just like that,” he commands, stepping back slightly to admire the view, your ass pushed out, your eyes wide in the mirror, lips already parted. “Fuck. Look at you.”

Then you feel it, his hands on your thighs, spreading them, dragging his fingers slowly along your skin. His shirt hangs open, wrinkled and useless now, clinging to one shoulder, exposing his toned chest, flushed and rising with every harsh breath. His palm presses to the center of your back, bending you over the vanity with a firm, unyielding push.

“Stay like that,” he murmurs, voice low and dark. “I want you spread out. Pretty. Obedient.”

You obey without thinking, chest against the cool surface. Then, with excruciating slowness, he undoes his belt. The sound alone makes your breath hitch. He keeps his eyes locked on yours in the mirror as he pushes his pants down just enough and frees himself, fingers wrapping around his cock like he’s been aching for this.

And when you see him… you go still.

He’s thick, long, flushed and heavy in his hand, already glistening at the tip.

Your gasp escapes before you can stop it.

“Oh?” he smirks, stroking himself lazily, intentionally, letting your eyes drink in every inch. “Surprised?”

You hear the sound of him spitting in his hand, stroking himself once, twice, and then that thick, hard length is sliding between your folds, teasing your entrance.

His hand slides into your hair, not rough, but controlling, guiding your eyes back to the mirror.

“Eyes on the mirror,” he commands, hand fisting your hair just enough to lift your gaze. “You’re gonna watch what it looks like when your best friend finally fucks you.”

Then, with one slow, devastating thrust, he sinks into you.

Deep.

Possessive.

Claiming.

He groans behind you, head falling forward, one hand gripping your hip tight enough to bruise.

“God-, fuck, you’re big,” you gasp, hands scrambling to grip the edge of the vanity.

He pulls out halfway, then slams back in, hard enough to make the vanity rattle.

You gasp, fingers scrambling for the edge, and he laughs behind you, breathless.

“More,” you cry, pushing back into him, shaking. “Don’t stop-, fuck, please don’t stop.”

“You want more?” he hisses, grabbing a fistful of your hair and pulling your head up so you’re forced to look at yourself in the mirror. “Look at this mess. Look what I’m doing to you.”

He slams into you harder. Filthy. Relentless. His palm lands on your ass, then rubs over the sting like he owns every inch of your body.

Then he snaps, hips continually slamming into you with a rhythm that steals the breath from your lungs. Over and over again. The sound of skin against skin echoes, obscene and raw, as he pounds into you like he’s lost all restraint. He leans over you suddenly, chest pressing to your back. His breath fans hot across your skin as his lips find your shoulder.

He kisses it once. Then again, slower.

“You gonna come like this?” he demands, voice thick and breathless. “Bent over, ass red, stuffed full of me?”

“Yes-,”

But he doesn’t let you come.

Not yet.

Just when your body tenses, right on the edge, he pulls out halfway and stills.

You let out a sob, raw and desperate, collapsing onto your elbows against the vanity.

“No…” you whimper, voice trembling. “Why’d you stop?”

“Because I said so,” he growls behind you, breathing hard. “And if you’re mine now… you come when I let you.”

A sharp slap lands on your ass, the heat blooming instantly, making you cry out and he grins at the way your thighs twitch, how your body tries to grind back into him without thinking.

“Oh, you like that,” he mutters, dragging his palm over the curve of your ass, then gripping both cheeks hard, spreading you open as he groans. “Look at this view. Fucking perfect. So pretty and messy for me.”

His hand grabs your wrist, dragging you upright, spinning you to face him. His mouth crashes into yours in a messy, heated kiss, all teeth and tongue and breathless need. You barely have time to cling to him before he’s walking you backward toward the bed.

“You think I was gonna finish you over a vanity?” he growls against your lips. “Not a fucking chance.”

You fall back onto the mattress with a gasp, legs spread slightly, chest heaving, body already trembling from the way he’s used you, and he just stands there for a second, looking down at you like he’s never seen anything more perfect.

Then his eyes narrow.

“Spread your legs wider.”

You do, instantly.

His shirt is half off, a desperate tug of fabric, and as he pulls his pants fully down, he’s not wasting any time to let you get a full look at him. His cock stands heavy, dripping with need, leaking as he strokes himself with a low growl.

You open your mouth, but the words die as he moves closer, kneeling on the edge of the bed. His hand wraps around your ankle and drags you toward him, his grip firm, claiming. He leans over you, one hand planted beside your head, the other dragging slowly along your inner thigh.

“Tell me,” he demands, brushing his nose along your jaw. “Did it turn you on? Knowing he saw you with me? Knowing he saw how badly I wanted to rip that dress off you?”

“Yes,” you whisper, breath hitching.

Then he’s kissing you again, slower this time but just as possessive. His hand wraps behind your neck, holding you in place as he takes what he wants, savoring your reactions, feeding off every moan that escapes you.

“Look at this,” he mutters, gaze locked between your legs. “So swollen. So wet. All for me.”

His hand drags slowly down your stomach, the heat of his palm branding every inch of skin it touches. It’s not hurried, no, it’s maddeningly slow, his fingers grazing along the dip below your navel, making your muscles jump with anticipation.

Then his fingers reach your folds, gliding through your slickness, deliberately lazy. You twitch under his touch, hips tilting up instinctively.

And then-

He slaps your pussy. Open palm. Quick.

The sound cracks through the room, sharp and obscene. The sting hits you a second later, blooming heat across your center, and your whole body jolts, legs trembling.

“Fuck-!” you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Wooyoung-,”

He smirks down at you, all dark satisfaction. “Oh yeah,” he says, eyes heavy with lust. “You liked that.”

Before you can catch your breath, he does it again. A second slap, just as sharp. The impact makes your thighs jerk apart, a cry tearing from your throat.

He moans, actually moans at the sight of you coming undone. “God, you’re so fucking hot when you take it like that.”

Your body is pulsing, burning, begging.

“Look at you,” he murmurs, breath hot as he leans closer, dragging two fingers through your folds again. “Dripping. You get this wet from just my hand?”

He rubs your clit in tight, quick circles, pressure unforgiving but just right, sending sparks up your spine. The contrast of pain and pleasure makes your head spin.

Your hands grip the sheets hard enough to cramp. “Fuck, Wooyoung-, don’t stop-”

He chuckles low and hungry. “Didn’t plan on it.”

With one smooth motion, he shifts, settling between your thighs. His cock, thick, flushed, already leaking, presses against your entrance, the tip catching on your slick folds. He rubs himself through your arousal, slow and teasing, just enough to make your hips chase him.

You try to lift your hips, to take him in, but he pins you back down, eyes wild.

“No. I get to fuck you when I say so,” he growls, mouth crashing down onto yours, kissing you hard, deep, messy, like he’s starving. Like your mouth is the only thing that’s ever tasted good.

When he finally thrusts in, it’s a single, brutal stroke, burying himself to the hilt and knocking the air right out of your lungs.

“Fuck,-” you gasp, eyes rolling back.

He doesn’t give you a second to adjust before pulling back and slamming into you again, the force of it leaving you breathless.

He doesn’t stop. He grabs your wrists, pins them above your head, body caging you in like a predator. His mouth finds yours, kissing you like he’s drowning, messy and hot and desperate. Teeth, tongue, breathless moans between every clashing movement.

“Don’t you dare look away,” he growls against your lips. “Look at me while I fuck you.”

So you do.

His pupils are blown, his hair a mess, sweat on his brow, mouth parted. But it’s his eyes, the way he’s looking at you like you’re all he’s ever wanted, and that makes your heart slam against your ribs.

You’re gasping, crying out, and he swallows every sound, his kiss never softening, only growing more frenzied as his hips pound into you.

“You feel that?” he pants into your mouth. “That’s mine. This pussy’s mine.”

He lets go of your wrists just long enough to grab your thigh, throw your leg over his shoulder, driving deeper, angle harsher. His grip is punishing, like he needs to hold you down to keep from losing his mind.

“Shit-,” you sob, clinging to him now. “You’re so deep-, I can’t-,”

“You can,” he growls. “Oh, fuck, baby-, that’s it,” he smirks, sweat dripping down from his neck. “You feel so good-, so fucking tight, so wet, I could stay buried in this pussy forever.”

He drops his head to your neck, biting and sucking bruises into your skin, marking you as his hands move constantly, palming your breast, gripping your hip, dragging across your thigh, he can’t stop touching you.

“That’s it,” he pants. “Let me make you feel so fucking good.”

You clench around him and he nearly loses it, thrusts getting sloppier, harder, messier. He grabs your jaw, forces your eyes to his.

“Please-, Wooyoung, I’m close-”

“Yeah? Let me hear you. Come for me. Come on my cock, baby, let me feel you.”

And it hits you, fast and deep, your whole body tensing as pleasure crashes through you like a wave you couldn’t stop even if you tried.

Wooyoung watches it take you, and it wrecks him.

“God, baby,” he growls, suddenly losing all rhythm, all control. “You feel so-, fuck, I’m not gonna last-,”

You reach up, grabbing his face with both hands, forcing him to look at you just like he did to you. “Don’t stop. Give it to me.”

That does it.

With a strangled moan of your name, he buries himself in you with a final, desperate thrust. His whole body tenses as he gives in, letting himself fall apart.

You can’t help but look at his face as that wave of pleasure overtakes him. His mouth is parted, lips trembling with the sounds he can’t hold back, brows drawn together in a tight knot like he’s fighting to stay grounded. The muscles in his jaw twitch, veins standing out along his neck and arms, his whole body straining as he spills everything into you.

When he finally exhales, it’s a ragged, shaky breath, and his body slowly relaxes, chest rising and falling heavily as he tries to come back down. He doesn’t pull away. Doesn’t say a word. He just lowers his weight over you gently, careful not to crush you, his face pressing into the crook of your neck.

You can still feel the warmth of him inside you, the lingering tension of release pulsing between your bodies.

Then he lifts his head, just barely, and looks down at you, really looks. His gaze roams over your flushed cheeks, kiss-bitten lips, the way you’re still dazed and boneless beneath him.

And then he grins. Slow, smug, wicked.

“God,” he says, voice low and pleased.

You blink up at him, heart stuttering. “What?”

He doesn’t answer right away, just lets his eyes drag over you like he’s memorizing everything. The mess he’s made of you. The way you still haven’t caught your breath.

“You’re gorgeous,” he says simply, but it lands heavy in your chest. “Like… stupid beautiful.”

Heat rushes to your face. You instinctively turn your head, trying to hide the way your lips curl, the way you can’t even look at him right now.

But that just makes him laugh, low and breathless.

“Oh no,” he murmurs, fingers catching your chin, turning your face back to his. “don’t get all shy on me now. Not after the things I just did to you.”

“Wooyoung-“ you try to protest, flustered, but it’s useless.

He shifts suddenly, his hand pinning your wrist to the bed as he leans in, eyes blazing. “Nope,” he growls playfully.

When his mouth crashes into yours, it’s not sweet or teasing, it’s intense. Deep and all-consuming, like he’s starving for you. His tongue claims yours, every movement deliberate, dominant.

When he finally pulls back, barely an inch, his lips are swollen and his voice is wrecked.

“I’m never gonna get enough of you,” he murmurs against your lips. “Never.”

***

You wake up slowly, the soft light of the morning creeping into the room, bathing everything in a warm glow. His arm is still draped over you, his breath steady and calm. You shift gently, trying not to wake him, but you can’t help but linger for a moment, watching his peaceful expression. He looks so content, so relaxed, last night still feels like a dream.

Carefully, you lift his arm from your waist and slip out of bed. As you stand, you glance back at him. His face is soft, his black hair a little messy, and the sight of him, even in his sleep, makes your heart flutter. You try to suppress the smile that tugs at your lips, but you can’t help it.

Quietly, you make your way to the kitchen. The cool air of the morning greets you as you open the cabinet and pull out his cereal box.

You’re perched on the kitchen counter, bare legs dangling, quietly munching on a bowl of Wooyoung’s ridiculous neon-colored cereal. The box sits beside you, obnoxiously bright. You’d teased him for years about how awful it looked, and secretly craved it every time.

You hear the soft shuffle of feet before you see him.

Wooyoung emerges from the hallway, shirtless, his hair a messy halo of waves, eyes still heavy with sleep. He looks like a dream and somehow worse for your heart in the morning light. A familiar ache stirs in your chest. This is your best friend. Your roommate. The same guy who left his laundry in the hallway and screamed at horror games.

The same guy who had his hands all over you last night and made you come like no one else.

“Morning, roomie,” he mutters, voice low and rough, smirking when his eyes catch yours. They linger. “Is that my cereal?”

You nod, trying not to choke on it now that your mouth’s gone dry. “It was calling to me.”

He walks right up to you, stepping between your legs like he’s done it a thousand times. Only now, there’s nothing innocent about the way he crowds your space.

You glance down, gripping the bowl a little tighter. Your voice comes out quieter than you meant. “You, uh… want some?”

He doesn’t answer.

Just takes the spoon from your hand, still warm from your touch, and scoops up a bite like it’s nothing. His other hand settles on your thigh, casual but firm. You forget how to breathe.

He hums like it’s gourmet. “God, I love this shit.”

You try to roll your eyes, but it’s weak. He’s too close. Too warm. Too real.

And then, without warning, he leans in close, mouth brushing your ear.

“Good morning, beautiful,”

Before you can say anything else, before your heart can fully flip in your chest, he kisses you.

It’s soft at first, like he’s testing the waters, but then it deepens, and the world around you fades. There’s no rush, no frantic need, just the slow, steady push and pull of lips, the quiet hum of connection between you two, something that’s always been there but is only now being acknowledged.

His lips linger just long enough to make your stomach twist in the best way before he pulls back, barely.

You stare at him, still a little dazed. He smirks.

“What?” he says, all fake innocence. “You gonna yell at me for stealing your cereal or for kissing you?”

You eye him, lips twitching. “Still weighing my options.”

He shrugs, hands still warm where they’re resting on your thighs. “Take your time. I’ve got all morning.”

“You’re literally the most impatient person I know,” you mutter.

“Mm,” he hums, brushing his thumb just under the hem of your shorts, right where it makes your breath catch. “Not when it comes to you. I like watching you squirm too much.”

You exhale a laugh, trying not to give him the satisfaction. He just grins wider, enjoying seeing you like this.

It’s completely unfair, the way he looks so relaxed. Like this, you and him and whatever happened last night, isn’t a big deal. Like waking up tangled together, touching each other like that, was just the natural next step.

And maybe… maybe it was.

“You know,” he adds after a beat, glancing at your bowl again, “I thought about that last night.”

“What, the cereal?” you ask, trying to level your voice.

He nods, all faux-innocent. “Had this whole internal debate. Go finish the box or save you some.”

You squint at him. “You didn’t even eat any.”

“Exactly.” He grins. “Fell asleep. Dreamt about it. Woke up, and there you were. Stealing the first bowl like some greedy little gremlin.”

You scoff. “Wow. Rude.”

“And hungry,” he adds, stealing your spoon without looking. He takes another bite, still watching you, chewing like he’s thinking about sin. “Might be craving something a little messier, though.”

You scoff, but your thighs tense around his hips, pulling him in closer. He feels it. Of course he does.

You think that’s the end of it, but then he tilts his head a little, voice dropping. “Also, you were real cute sneaking around out here like I couldn’t hear you. Hair all messy. Wearing nothing but your-”

“Stop,” you cut in, already feeling the heat crawl up your neck.

He just laughs, clearly enjoying this way too much. “I’m just saying. Round two almost happened right then and there.”

You shoot him a look. “I was literally getting cereal.”

He leans in, lips brushing your cheek again before he murmurs, “Yeah, and you still looked hot.”

You go quiet, too aware of his mouth near yours and the fact that he’s still standing between your knees like he belongs there.

You open your mouth, no idea what you’re even going to say, but he’s already leaning in.

And then he kisses you again, easy, unhurried, like it’s just what he does now. Like kissing you is second nature.

And god, maybe it is.

TAGLIST: I only have one main taglist, so if you wish to be added/removed, then let me know! xx @lveegsoi @vixensss @yizhou-time @imgenieforyou-boy @life-is-a-game-of-thrones @ateezswonderland @cozypaint @blutiny @aerangi @arigakittyo @femaholicc @queenofdumbfuckery @mingiatz @hwaskookies @vent-stink @desanslogique @taestrwbrry @hannahstacos @tinyteezer @gold--gucciempress @zhangyi-johee @sunnysidesins @spenceatiny18 @yunhoswrldddd @beljakovina @soso59love-blog @trivia-134340 @skzfangirl143 @spicxbnny @h0rnyp0t @mingimangomu @no-nottoday @roguesthetic @hwas-star @tsuukamori @londonbridges01 @nayutalvr @purplelady85 @lover-ofallthingspretty @awkward-fucking-thing @luvbgy @thuyting @p1ecetinyzen @eumpappasmom @marsofeight @maidens-world @girlblogger-04 @renapersa @lol-imtrash2000 @melitadala @yoonglesbae @bby-boo4u @babymbbatinygirl @dalsuwaha @diekleinesuesse @beccaskz @les4heeseung @oddin4ry @manu2004 @mingimangomu @intowxnderland @chaotic-floral @toxicstrawberries @musicconversedance @insanityz @therealcuppicake @darkdayelixer @soobieboobiebaby @thevintagefangirl @fireseo @smileyishere92 @faerouzia @zerefdragn33l @lover-ofallthingspretty @yup-thats-me @trivia-134340 @mochi13

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krystalcat · 1 month ago

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Aren’t You Embarrassed Part 6: P.S

One more part after this. I hope you guys enjoyed this series. I have like 5 things coming up and I'm excited for everyone to see!

->Starring: NonIdol!Toxic!FratBoy!Seonghwa, Afab!Reader, NonIdol!FratBoy!Jongho

->Genre: Slice of life? idk

->CW: Explicit language, mentions of alcohol, slightly suggestive... like a little smudge but no smut, talks of virginity losing and whatnot...

Previous Part

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist | Series Masterlist

When you started college, you didn't think things would be this... complicated. Your first year had been all about studying, not really having much time for friends, let alone boys. The few friends you had made tried to get you out there, but nothing appealed to you. Parties were too noisy, and meeting new people just didn't seem interesting to you. But something about your second year seemed to completely turn things around.

When you first met Seonghwa, you had been starstruck just like every other girl who had crossed his path. You remember very vividly how much of a fool you made yourself look when you bumped into him, dropping your stuff everywhere, and how you sputtered out nonsense as you picked up everything. How he mumbled a little ‘Cute’ while looking down at you before walking away. It made you wonder why you had never seen him before that moment; his looks made him hard to miss.

From that day forward, college wasn’t just about studying. You had started putting more effort into your outfit- skirts got a little shorter, your makeup was a little heavier, and your hair sported a cute little bow. You had talked to a few girls to try and figure him out a little more. You learned his name, his major, that he’s in a frat, he’s in his third year and that he’s a raging asshole. That last part you chose to ignore. After that, you found every reason to be around Seonghwa, whether it was just passing by him in a building that was on the other side of campus than where your class was, or walking by his usual hangout spot just so he would notice you. Of course, he never batted an eye in your direction, but the effort was there.

That's how you found yourself walking up the steps of the large frat house that decided to throw a party on a random Wednesday night. Now, you usually skip these types of events, no matter how much your friends begged, but you were not going to pass up the opportunity to see Seonghwa again.

So here you were pushing through a sea of sweaty people, eyes peeled for the man who’s been consuming your thoughts for the past few weeks. You pull your mini-skirt down as much as you can, feeling very out of place. Your friends had long since ditched you, and the crowd was suffocating.

“Well. I’ve never seen you before.” A voice says, startling you from behind. You turn and see a hazy pair of eyes staring at you. You shift around, not really knowing how to reply. He could almost smell the uneasiness coming off you. "You look like a lost little lamb. You want me to keep you company?" He slides a hand around your shoulders, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath. "Um, sorry, I'm actually looking for someone," you mumble, trying to push his arm off. "Oh, come on, sweetheart, don't be like that. Let Wooyoung keep you company, yeah?" You look around, trying to find an out when another voice comes to your rescue, "Woo. Leave the poor girl alone" You froze, the familiar voice rang through your ears. When you turn Seonghwa's dark eyes stare back, a little smirk is adorned on his face

Seonghwa led you up to what you assumed was his room. When you entered, you saw a very tidy space. It was very simple: a bed, a dresser, a desk, and very minimal decorations. It was your first time being in a boy's room, so you didn’t know what to expect, but you expected some sort of mess. He didn't give you much time to look around, grabbing your hand and guiding you to his bed. His lips were hot against yours, and your head felt fuzzy. This was very different than the few kisses you had before. Those little pecks were nothing compared to the magic you felt now.

Things quickly started to heat up, and panic rushed through your body when you felt his hands slide up your shirt. "Wait. I uh. I've never done this before," You said quietly while looking down. "Oh, I know. It's very obvious," His hand comes to lift your chin so you're looking into his eyes. "Don't worry. I'll go slow."

After that night, your infatuation with Seonghwa clearly grew. With such a naive mind, you thought it was the start of a budding relationship—until you saw him the next day, arm around some girl from your chemistry class. You cried and cried to your friends who already knew how he was. You stopped taking the long way to class and didn't put as much effort in the morning. After a couple of weeks, he started to slowly drift out of your mind until one random Thursday afternoon, you received a dm on Instagram. The little 'hey' he sent started the toxic cycle that became normal for you.

It had been a few days since you had last seen Seonghwa, his behavior had been confusing you, and you had no idea what was going through his head. His silence became a norm to you, so when you received the text from him asking you to come over for a "little chat" it baffled you to no end, but before you could reply, a surprising phone call from Jongho came in. You stared at the screen for a second, trying to figure out whether or not you were just seeing things. You hesitantly pressed the answer button: "Hello?" You're met with silence, and you start to think that he might have called you by accident. You wait a couple of seconds, debating if you should hang up.

Jongho, on the other line, sat anxiously waiting for you to answer. He had thought long and hard about whether he should give you another chance. He knew with Seonghwa still around, he would always pose a threat, which was a risk he wasn't sure if he was willing to take. But here he sat waiting for you to answer, and he was just about to give you when he heard your voice. He didn't know what to say at firs,t "Hey I know I've been ignoring you for the past couple of weeks because I was mad and wanted to get back at you for hurting me even though I forgave you a long time ago" no... no, he couldn't say that. He contemplates just hanging up and trying again later, but he knows if he did that, he would just keep putting it off. "Hey. I think I'm ready to talk now." He cringed as soon as the words left him, not really wanting to say it that way. "Really?!" You didn't even care about how eager you sounded, not when Jongho was ready to hear you out.

Now you were stuck with the hard decision of who you were going to meet. Seonghwa seemed to have an overnight personality change, which was off-putting, but you weren't necessarily complaining. Then, Jongho was actually ready to talk to you after weeks of trying. Your brain was confused

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krystalcat · 2 months ago

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distraction

pairing: hongjoong x fem reader

genre/warnings: FWB, uni students hj and reader, oral and fingering (f receiving), unprotected sex, doggy, creampie, we're going in there no lube no protection mode for nerd hongjoong; let's imagine reader has an IUD or smth; a dash of pining as a treat; barely proofread sowwy

word count: a lil over 2.2k

a/n: saurrrr I couldn’t stop thinking about THIS post by @crimsonbubble, it literally possessed my brain and inspired this little fic, so here we go!

minors and blank blogs dni, you will be blocked

dividers by @cafekitsune

You punch in the door code Hongjoong gave you, trusted you with, and enter his small apartment.

“It’s me,” you announce, closing the door behind you. No reply.

Down the hall is his room. That’s where you find him, hunched over his desk, writing, then crossing over something in his notepad, laptop open in front of him, its screen displaying math formulas you won’t even try to decipher. He lifts his head to greet you, and you notice dark circles under his eyes. His face is pale, hair all mussed, probably from his hands running through it, glasses messy with fingerprints.

“Whoa, what happened here?” You wonder out loud.

He squints at you from behind the glasses. It doesn’t escape you how he glances down for just one moment at your short skirt before looking at your face again.

“I have a big report due. You too, if I remember correctly?”

“I’m done with it,” you beam down at him. He raises one eyebrow instead of actually voicing his questions. “Yeah, that’s the beauty of half-assing assignments. You should try it sometimes.”

“Not an option,” Hongjoong deadpans. He goes back to writing in the notepad while you walk towards his single bed positioned next to a wall and sit on the edge.

“Have you even left your place once in the past twenty-four hours?”

“Didn't need to,” he replies without looking up.

“I admire your dedication,” you say with a sigh, “but you need to take breaks, you know? Your brain will short circuit otherwise.”

“What do you suggest?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you slide your hands under your skirt, hook your thumbs in the waistband of your black lacy underwear and pull it down. Leaving it stretched around your knees, you recline on your elbows. “I think you should try distracting yourself with something, hm?”

“Like what?”

He turns to looks at you, when he doesn't get a response. With a tired sigh, he leans back in his office chair and looks you up and down, biting his lower lip. He taps his pen against his notebook quickly. You don’t like how he sometimes pretends he doesn’t want it. You know he likes this as much as you do, but he prefers to toy with you a little first.

You almost think he’s not going to take the bait, but he slowly gets up and drops his glasses on the desk. He makes his way to you in this small bedroom and puts his hands on your knees.

“You really think this will help me?” He gently runs his fingers over the skin of your thighs. “Or are you just bored after, as you say, half-assing your work?”

“Two things can be true at once, Kim Hongjoong,” you smile up at him.

He rolls his eyes with a smirk before hooking his fingers under the waistband of your panties. You let him lift your legs to take your underwear off and then spread them when he kneels in front of you.

Unlike you, Hongjoong doesn’t half-ass anything, including making love to you. And this is exactly what you call it in your head, despite the two of you not being officially together. Because there are simply no other words in your vocabulary to describe it.

He teases you slowly, never jumps right in, he makes sure to arouse you to the point where you're dripping down your thighs for him. Little touches, caresses, kisses, and nips to your skin, his hot breath leaving goosebumps in its wake. You used to be impatient, but now you’ve learned to just hand yourself over to him and trust him to take care of you.

He makes sure to give attention to your inner thighs, kissing and sucking, kneading your soft flesh with his hands, your head spinning with anticipation as he gets closer and closer to where you need him. He gives you new hickeys in places of those that faded away, so you can remember him till next time.

You sigh when he finally runs his fingers through your slick folds, spreading the mess around, rubbing you all around, giving just enough stimulation to have you clenching rhythmically with arousal. You whine and close your eyes, completely giving into this feeling.

He spreads your lips with his fingers, leans down and licks a wide strip from your hole up to your swollen clit.

“Oh, fuck,” you whisper grabbing the comforter under you. He starts with slow licks, spreading saliva over you soft sensitive skin, before he attaches his mouth to you, making out with your pussy and softly moaning into it. The feeling of his warm wet mouth on you is almost enough to make you cum on the spot. The slick sounds and his little soft moans, like he’s the one receiving pleasure right now only add to the sensation. Not only does it feel good to be with him, but the sounds of your sex nearly make you blush like a virgin every time.

His fingers move lower, softly prodding at your entrance, massaging it. He alternates between suckling your clit lightly and flicking his tongue over it, while his pointer finger slowly breaches you. Before you know it, two of his fingers are stretching you while his thumb massages your lips.

He starts with shallow thrusts until they move freely inside of you, all the while still pleasing you with his tongue. You’re so turned on that it’s getting hard to breathe properly. All you can do is lie there and moan and take what he’s giving you. The pleasure starts to peak when he curves his fingers inside of you, rubbing your walls with his fingertips.

“Ohh fuck, please, I’m gonna–”

Just when your orgasm is within reach, he stops. The sudden loss of stimulation leaves your whole body restless and in need of release. You open your eyes with a huff and try to glare at him, only to be met with a sweet smile.

He stands up, and the way he grabs himself through his sweats to relieve some pressure has you clenching your walls around nothing. You lick your lips absentmindedly, staring at the outline of his cock in his pants. He nods to the head of the bed, giving you a silent clue to get on all fours. When you do, he’s behind you in an instant, lifting your skirt and revealing your plump ass to him.

He moves his hand under you and runs his whole palm over your folds again, and you whine needily, moving your hips to grind against his touch.

“Shh, you’re okay,” his soothing voice comes from behind you. “I’ve got you.”

His hands leave you for a couple of seconds, and you hear clothes rustling as he lowers his pants. With his right hand on you again, holding your hips in place, the left guides his cock and you feel the warm weight of it slide between your folds. It moves up and down, spreading them, his soft skin getting coated in the mix of your arousal and his spit. The head occasionally bumps into your sensitive clit, making you grab the comforter impatiently again.

“Mmh, please, Joong” you try to move your hips back to meet him.

“You were right, this is a fun distraction”, he chuckles breathlessly behind you. By the sound of his voice, you’re not the only one affected by this teasing, but Hongjoong wouldn’t be Hongjoong if he just gave you what you want this easily.

The blunt head of his cock finally sinks into you, and you moan at the stretch, preparing for more, but he just can’t stop teasing you, groping your ass while just the tip rests inside of you. You grunt in annoyance, dropping your head and grinding your teeth.

“Come on, please…”

“Since you’re asking so nicely,” the smile in his voice is evident as he gently rubs the soft skin of your hips.

Finally, with a sigh, he slowly pushes all the way inside. His length slides into you easily. At this point of your arrangement, your walls are probably molded to his shape and will refuse to take anyone else.

He draws back just a little before pushing back in, slowly grinding into you. The slow drag of his length inside of you is too much and not enough at the same time. His moves are languid, letting you feel all of him, hear every sound both of your bodies make while connected like this.

He draws back almost all the way and pushes inside again. You feel like your skin is on fire, your insides twisting and coiling, needing him to bring you to your high again. He maneuvers your hips to find the right spot and when he does, you can’t help the moan that escapes you.

“Oh, God, Joong.”

Now that he’s got it, he grips you tighter and picks up the pace, hips slapping against your ass. He’s so precise with his movements, the head of his cock brushing your sweet spot with every stroke, sending tingles through your core. The bed creaks weakly as your body sways with the force of his thrusts. Your arms give out, and you end up with your face all the way down. Without missing a beat, he still pounds into that spot, moving your hips to meet his.

You push your face further into the pillow that smells like him, something tugging at your heart. Shoving the emotion to the back of your head, you try to focus on the feeling in your stomach, burning like the sun.

When it seems like it couldn’t get any better, he brings one of his hand around your body to the point where your bodies connect. His pointer and middle finger rub insistently on the both sides from where his cock is stretching, and then up to your clit. The added stimulation renders you practically incoherent, moaning and sobbing from how good you’re feeling.

With his other arm supporting his weight on the bed, he leans down until his chest is flush against your back.

“Oh my god”, you mumble dumbly into the pillow.

All of the jocks on campus with their chiseled abs and macho attitude, and whatever else could never top the way he makes you feel. The way your body trembles with pleasure when he touches you. There’s no ridiculous dirty talk, no asking to call him things like daddy or whatever. No, he’s just focused on both of you feeling good. Even though this is just an arrangement for convenience, you never feel like you’re just a thing to him.

It all works in tandem to bring you the ultimate pleasure — his cock inside of you, his fingers rubbing you just right, him pressing against you, rugged breathing and soft groans in your ear letting you know how he likes the way you’re clenching around him. The tingling feeling in your stomach explodes into a million stars, spreading through your legs and making your whole body spasm. He keeps caressing you lightly as you come around him with a soft cry, face still buried in his pillow.

Hongjoong lets you ride out your high before starting to move again. Despite whining with overstimulation, you move your hips on instinct to meet his slow thrusts. A quick kiss to your neck catches you by surprise.

“Just a little more, beautiful.”

He hugs you closer, his arm holding onto your midriff, practically fucking you into the mattress now, his cock driving so deep that the breath is almost knocked out of you.

After a few more sharp and deep thrusts, you feel him unloading into you with a strained moan. He’s still plastered to your back, hot breath hitting your neck. You lie there enveloped by his scent, feeling him twitch inside as your walls milk him of the last drops. For a little while, you allow yourself to bask in the moment of him holding you close, his ragged breathing hitting the back of your neck. You start missing it the moment he moves away to get up.

Even though he doesn't stay to linger in the afterglow, it never feels like you’re being tossed aside either. He doesn’t even reprimand you when you just keep laying there, his cum leaking out of you and onto the bed comforter. He gets up to get some wet wipes, helps you clean and put your underwear back on, and gives you a forehead kiss.

“Take as much time as you need.”

After that, he goes back to his desk. You rest on the bed a little longer and look at his profile as he keeps working on his report. Finally, when both your heartbeat and breathing go back to normal, you feel like you’re ready to leave.

“See ya.”

“Yeah.”

You take some more time to gather your thoughts after you close the door behind yourself. Why is it so awkward to walk away? You both got what you wanted. Just like you will the next time this happens, until one of you decides this isn’t what they want anymore. But which one of you will it be?

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krystalcat · 7 months ago

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♡ ｓｗｅｅｔｎｅｒ ♡

♡ Pairing: couple!woosan x best friend!fem!reader, best friend!ateez

♡ Genre: fluff/smut/angst

♡ Summary: After a terrible breakup two of your dearest friends welcomed you into their home. Living with them has been a total dream so far, one that has you developing feelings you aren't quite ready to face but, when a dinner with your friend group forces you to confront those feelings, you realize that you might not be the only one who has them.

♡ Word Count: 6.8kish

♡ Warnings: woo and san are indeed a couple, boys kissing, kissing in general, drinking, threesome, lots of praise, unprotected sex, soft dom woosan, oral sex (m&f receving), some clit play, nipple play, nibbling, hickeys, a lil manhandling, double penetration, creampie, swallowing, finger sucking, some booty slaps, overstimulation, squirting, pet names (sweetie, baby, sweetheart, good girl, etc), and that's all darlings.

♡ A/N: I really wanted to write a nice, warm lil comfort fic and this was the result of that. As I always say, I hope you sweet baby darlings enjoy this. Especially my WooSan babes out there.

When you first decided to move in with Wooyoung and San everyone warned you that it might not be the best idea. The two of them had been dating for years at that point and, though you knew them just as long, being best friends with a couple is much different than living with one. They had their own habits, their own unique dynamic, and the introduction of a single woman into the mix might have thrown it off in ways that irreversibly damaged your friendship.

For all the worries that people planted into your brain, the reality of the situation was drastically different. From the night you moved your last box into their spare bedroom you felt like you were home. They were doing you a major favor, letting you move in after a terrible breakup with your ex, but they never made you feel like it. Instead they welcomed you with open arms, immediately jumping to do everything in their power to make sure you felt comfortable.

During those first few weeks you made it a point to shrink yourself, not wanting to take up too much space or get in their way. They quickly reassured you that it wasn’t necessary. If they didn’t want you there you wouldn’t have been there. You could take up as much space as you wanted, get in their way whenever you pleased. They were just happy to have you.

Before you knew it the three of you were doing everything together. Cooking each other breakfast before work, curling up on the couch for movie nights, staying up late to talk about whatever popped into your heads. It reached the point that you hardly had to make your own bed because of the endless nights you found yourself dozing off in theirs.

Woo and San always treated you like a princess, living with them wasn’t a requirement for that, but after you moved in it got so much worse. You had to argue them down to let you do dishes or wash your own clothes. You didn’t even try when it came to carrying in bags after grocery shopping. You knew if you did you’d never hear the end of it from either of them. Even now as you sit at the elegantly decorated table of an upscale restaurant—all of your closest friends gathered for the usual Saturday night dinner—they won’t let you lift a finger.

With Woo on one side of you and San on the other, you only have to extend your hand towards something you want and it's yours. A particularly crispy cut of pork belly catches your eye and before you know it Woo’s swooped it up with his chopsticks.

“Woo, you didn’t have to do that” you whisper beneath the chatter of conversation at the table.

“Hmm? Did you say something?” he asks, knowing very well that he heard you. He raises it to your lips, patiently waiting for you to take a bite.

You stare at it for a moment, refusing to eat it solely because of the entertainment that comes with testing Woo’s patience. San drapes his arm over the back of your chair, replenishing the tall crystal glass before you with sweet red wine.

“Eat it or he’ll get all sulky” San teases, cutting his eyes at his boyfriend whose lips have already begun to form a pout.

“I do not get sulky” Woo protests, indeed sulking. He’s cute when he does it, knowledge that he weaponizes every chance he gets.

You and San look at each other, sharing a giggle, before you give in and take a bite. Woo watches as you chew, making sure that you enjoy it. If you don’t he’ll get you another.

“Happy?” you smile once you’re done and Woo nods, returning his attention back to his own plate.

Across the table Hongjoong watches you curiously, something you’ve caught him doing all night. No one else seems to notice but for you it can’t be ignored. The two of you lock eyes and he asks you a question without words. You wish he’d use them, spit out whatever the hell is on his mind already, because the tension’s eating you alive.

“So does anyone know what we’re doing for New Year’s Eve or is it party at Seonghwa’s?” Yunho asks, gesturing for Jongho to hand him a dish.

Seonghwa frowns, his cheeks too packed full of food to speak clearly, “My house? Why my house?”

“Ooh, yeah, then I can come over and touch all your stuff” Mingi says, attempting to swipe some food from Seonghwa’s plate.

Seonghwa slaps him on the back of the hand with his chopsticks, “I’ll kill you.”

“We could all go camping,” Jongho suggests, “I know a really good spot for it.”

The table falls silent with the exception of Yeosang who nods in support of the younger man. “That’s…an idea.”

“We can host this year” San offers, flashing that dimpled smile, “We have the room for it.”

Hongjoong takes a sip of his wine, his icy glare falling upon you and only you. “Are you sure? Don’t you think your apartment’s gotten kinda crowded lately?”

The comment strikes a chord with Woo, his irritation apparent in how swiftly his demeanor shifts. “And what exactly is that supposed to mean?” he asks, chewing at his bottom lip.

“Nothing…it’s nothing” Hongjoong laughs, sitting back in his chair, “Maybe I should keep my comments to myself.”

“Maybe you should…” Woo snaps.

San clears his throat, rising from the table before the situation can escalate, “I have to go make a quick call. Baby, could you come with me?”

Woo doesn’t respond and he isn’t pretending to be hard of hearing this time. He and Hongjoong are having a staring contest. A silent war as violent as if someone had thrown a punch.

“Wooyoung!” San says with more bass in his voice this time. It’s enough to snap Woo out of it but he still lingers a moment before getting up himself.

Taking you by the hand, Woo stares down at you, searching your face for any sign that Hongjoong’s words hurt your feelings. “You’ll be okay?”

You nod, presenting him with a smile that you hope soothes him a bit. “I’m okay. Just go.”

San pets your hair, planting a kiss on your forehead, “Be back in a second.”

You watch as San walks Woo outside like a mother about to lay into her child for misbehaving. As calm as you’ve remained all night, you can’t hide your own irritation at the way Hongjoong’s been acting. It isn’t Woo’s fault that he decided to say something so rude. Whatever problem he has with you is with you. Woo and San shouldn’t be a part of it.

Turning back to the table you find that all conversation of a New Year’s Eve celebration has ended. Everyone’s dead silent, unsure of what to say, if there’s anything to say at all.

“If you have something to say to me, why not just say it?” you ask, “Or are we just intent on acting like children tonight?”

“This meal is delicious, isn’t it? Really. I know we come here all the time but there’s something about it tonight” Yunho interrupts in an attempt to keep the peace.

Seonghwa shakes his head at him, his own history as the peacemaker teaching him that it’s not worth it. When Hongjoong’s in a mood he’s in a mood and there’s nothing to be said about it.

Hongjoong shrugs, poking around at his plate, “I don’t have anything to say really. I’m just curious—I think we all are—about what’s going on here.”

Your eyebrows furrow in genuine confusion, “What are you talking about?”

Hongjoong looks to Woo’s seat then to San’s and right back at you, the girl at the center of it all. “I know we’re all close but the way you three have been acting lately goes a little beyond close. You can’t blame us for thinking…”

“Thinking what?” You look around the table, hoping that one of your friends will jump in and tell Hongjoong how silly he’s being. Instead they avert eye contact. They treat you like you’re a stranger and, in the world of the secret whisperings among them, that’s exactly what you are. It takes a moment for Hongjoong’s words to make sense. He said something without saying it and it’s clear he’s not the only person with that on the tip of their tongue.

The moment it hits you, your palms begin to sweat, the air around you growing hotter. You try your best to act clueless, pretending to have no idea where they’d get these ideas from. It’s not because you have anything to hide. Nothing has happened between the three of you and nothing will. But sometimes you’ve felt it—a tingle when Woo’s holding your hand or those butterflies when you’re cuddled up with San. It’s a purely platonic act on their part, there’s nothing more to it, but the feelings are there whether you like it or not and the idea that anyone else can see it is frightening.

“You can’t be serious. You don’t think…they’re my best friends, like we all are. There’s nothing…they don’t even like girls” you stutter, a shaky hand reaching for the neck of your wine glass.

Yeosang’s eyes widen at your declaration and he has to reach for a glass of water to keep from choking on his food.

Mingi quirks his head at you, shooting a quick glance at Hongjoong. “Who told you that?”

“Told me what?”

Jongho laughs to himself, tickled by this exchange. “That they don’t like girls.”

“But they don’t. They’re gay.”

“Oh, honey” Hongjoong sighs, letting up on you for the first time tonight, “We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

You open your mouth to say something more, you aren’t even sure what that is, but the feeling of San’s hand on your shoulder makes you swallow your words.

“What are we talking about?” he asks, taking his seat at your side. He looks to you only, picking up on your nervousness in an instant. His face turns serious and you place a gentle hand on his knee, softening him if only a bit.

“Everything okay?” you ask, swiftly changing the subject.

San leans in closer to you, pinning you down to your seat without even touching you. “I don’t know, is it?”

Woo swats him away from you, having already gotten his fill of his boyfriend’s lecturing outside. He doesn’t need him doing it to you too. “San, please. You told me I had to play nice. That goes for both of us, doesn’t it?”

San backs off, as much as he hates to do it. He knows something is up but, at the risk of being a hypocrite, he lets it go. The conversation quickly switches back to discussions about parties—who else they’ll invite and who’ll do all the cooking—yet you can’t bring yourself to care about any of it. In your mind there’s only a loop of Hongjoong’s comment.

“Oh, honey. We thought you were just playing it up. You really are clueless.”

“You’ve had too much to drink. I’m driving you home” Jongho says, stealing Mingi’s car keys.

“I’m fine. Trust me.” Mingi makes a half-hearted attempt at stealing them back but he’s in no shape to do it. He’s swaying back and forth, his cheeks tinted a rosy pink courtesy of those last three shots of soju.

Gathered outside of the restaurant, your group lingers by the door, saying your goodbyes and trying to reel in the drunkest among you. It’s a clear night, the type that's perfect for counting stars, but you’re too busy freezing to revel in the magic of it. Earlier you left your jacket in the car, not thinking much of it until you stumbled out of the restaurant into an actual freezer.

San slips out of his jacket, draping it over your shoulders and giving your arms a quick rub to warm them up. “Look after this for me while I go grab the car.”

As San ventures off to find the car, Woo steps in front of you, coming in close to block the wind.

“Goodnight you two” Hongjoong sings, winking at you over Woo’s shoulder.

You groan and Woo lets out a skeptical “Goodnight” waving to the others until there’s only the two of you left. When his gaze drifts back to you, you try not to make eye contact but you can’t resist it. His eyes shimmer so gorgeously in the moonlight that it’s impossible not to be taken by them.

Rubbing his hands together, he presses them to your cheeks, squishing them together enough that you look like a little fish. Definitely the cutest fish he’s ever seen. It was his intention to warm you up but he has no clue how hot you burn for him, as hard as you try to fight it.

“I don’t know if I told you this but you look beautiful tonight” he says, taking you in from head to toe, “That dress especially. It's lovely”

The dress in question, a black lace up mini dress, is indeed lovely. You’d ordered it on a whim during a late night shopping session and have been dying to wear it for weeks. When San suggested that you all match for dinner tonight, black on black all the way, you figured there was no time like the present. It’s more revealing than you’re used to and some part of you questioned if you should wear it or not but Woo’s complement did all that was needed to melt your doubts away.

“You do too” you blush, straightening out his tie, “You look fancy.”

Woo tries to play it off but it’s always much too obvious when he’s flattered. “I try. You’ll always be the prettiest one in the room but I have to try to give you some competition, don’t I?”

“Are you attempting to flatter me, Wooyoung?”

Woo moves closer to you, his breath tickling your face as he speaks, “I don’t know. Am I?”

It’s back. That tingle you feel whenever Woo does something like this. You feel it in the tips of your fingers and your toes. Soon it’ll spread everywhere else, overtaking you, and there’s not a single thing you can do about it. The longer he stares at you the worse it’ll be. He’s sealing your fate, damning you to a night spent trying to chase these feelings away.

“Are you gonna get in or do you two plan to walk home?” San shouts, honking the horn.

You let out a sigh of relief. You’ve been saved. Just barely.

“Does your boyfriend know you’re picking up men from random street corners?” Woo jokes, turning to greet San.

San leans over, pushing the passenger’s side door open, “I won’t tell him if you don’t.”

Woo laughs, doubling back to grab you, “You ride in the front tonight, okay, beautiful?”

It’s a question that isn’t a question. You always ride shotgun—they insist upon it—so you hop into the car before Woo’s tempted to scoop you up and set you in there himself. He will do it.

Tossing himself into the back, Woo slams the door closed, spreading out across the seat as the car hums down the city street. It’s a quiet, peaceful ride and it only occurs to you after a few minutes that it’s strangely quiet. There’s always a debrief after dinner. Woo never misses out on the chance to gossip with you and San lives for it even though he’s fond of pretending he doesn’t but tonight’s different. Something’s off.

You switch on the radio, hoping that the introduction of a little music will keep your mind from wandering, but San flicks it off the moment that you do.

“When we came back to the table, what were you talking about?” he asks, catching you off guard. San’s not the type to let things go, you’ve always known that, but you thought maybe this time you'd luck out. You thought wrong.

Woo sits up, combing his dark hair back from his face, “San, don’t start.”

“I’m not starting” he swears, “I’m just curious. Don’t tell me you aren’t.”

“Well…” Woo muses, cutting his eyes over at you, “It would be nice to know. I mean, we don’t keep secrets from each other, right?”

You stare out of the window, unable to face either of them. Woo’s right, you don’t keep secrets. Maybe a long time ago it would’ve been forgivable to keep some things to yourself but now? The three of you have gotten so close that it seems almost blasphemous to lie to them.

“The guys think that there’s something going on between the three of us…” you spill out and you’d swear you sucked all of the air from the car.

“Oh…”

That’s all you’re left with. Now you have to look at them. You have to see their faces and know that you haven’t upset them. “I told them that there wasn’t though! The only thing between us is friendship. That’s it.”

“Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?” Woo asks and San does nothing to stop him.

You let out a nervous laugh, convinced that he’s messing with you. “Woo, I’m being serious.”

San takes a deep breath, fingers tapping at the steering wheel as you approach a red light. “So are we.”

“So…” Woo says, his words more deliberate this time, “Is that what you told them or is that how you feel?”

There’s so much weight to that question—almost too much for you to handle. After your breakup you were a total wreck. It felt like someone had torn your heart out and ripped it to pieces. How couldn’t it belong to them when they were the ones who put it back together?

“What if what I feel is wrong?” you ask, the rush of emotion forcing your voice to crack.

San holds his hand out to you and you feel a sense of calm wash over you as you take it. He interlocks his fingers with yours, planting slow sweet kisses along the back of your hand. “There’s nothing wrong with the way you feel, sweetheart.”

Woo caresses your cheek, his chin propped up on the back of your chair as he studies you from the backseat. “We feel it too” he sighs, taken by your beauty, “You’re an easy girl to fall for.”

“Woo” you giggle, your gaze falling to your lap where your free hand’s fidgeting with the lace trim of your dress.

“Stop it, baby, you’re embarrassing her” San says, coming to your rescue as usual.

“Embarrassing her how? She knows how perfect she is” Woo coos, pinching your cheek, “I tell her everyday.” Settling back into his seat, he digs his phone out of his pocket, flicking it on to scroll through his notifications.

San winks at you, raising your hand to his lips to give it one last kiss. He goes back to driving so casually that you’re left wondering if everything that just happened was all in your head. It’s the strangest thing, how they can be so laid back about a confession that’s turned your world upside down—changed everything you knew in an instant. Maybe it’s because they always knew.

When Woo and San first met they knew the two of them belonged together. Their bond was something they never had to question, it simply was the way things were supposed to be. And when you entered the picture it was no different. You moving in only cemented it. You belonged there with them—in their home, in their arms. They’d love you, protect you, do everything in their power to put a smile on that beautiful face.

Just like the one you have now. The one Woo keeps catching in the rearview mirror and San keeps seeing out of the corner of his eye. Woo wasn’t lying. You are a very easy girl to fall for. They’re doing it right now.

To anyone who knows you, visiting your apartment makes for a fun game. Your arrival here led to a little redecorating on Woo and San’s part. They insisted on moving some things around to make room for what you loved. If you saw a lamp you wanted, if there was a painting you had your eye on, anything at all and it was yours.

So whenever one of the guys is over and a new piece is spotted they like to bet who it belongs to. An easy task at first, it’s grown much more difficult over time. “It’s like you’re becoming the same person” Yeosang will say in a spooky voice, experiencing what might be actual fear of who’s becoming a clone of who. He loves you all but multiples of any of you is a recipe for disaster.

Your friends’ teasing aside, you love the place you call home. This cozy two bedroom is a seamless fusion of the three of you. It’s your safe place. Where you all run back to for comfort after a long day out in the world. All night it’s sat undisturbed, awaiting your return, and your grand entrance doesn’t disappoint.

The apartment door pushes open, flooding the dimly lit apartment with a choppy but spirited rendition of one of Woo’s favorite songs. He’s been playing it nonstop for the past two weeks and during the last half of the ride home he stole the aux cord to force you both to listen. Blame the alcohol or call it brainwashing but you and San were feeling it tonight. So much that you sang and danced your way from the parking garage, probably waking up the whole neighborhood.

Singing a lyric even you’re shocked you remember, you do a little shuffle, kicking your heels off at the door. San does a shimmy behind you, dropping his next to yours. Woo grabs you by the arm, pulling you into his, and you bring San right along with you. You’ve had enough of these late night dance sessions—more than any of you will admit—for your bodies to be totally in sync as you dance around the apartment.

Taking you by the hand, San twirls you in a circle and that last sip of wine kicks in immediately, the room still spinning even after you’ve stopped. Luckily Woo’s quick on his feet, catching you from behind.

“Clumsy much?” he cackles, arms looped around your waist.

You spin around, scrunching your face up at him, “Do you think you’re funny? Cause you’re not.”

You feel San’s arms close around you from the other side. His muscles make every hug a bear hug and you’ve never minded one bit.

“You’re prettier when you aren’t being a brat” he says, fingertips tracing the immaculate outline of Woo’s cheek.

Woo nuzzles into his touch like a cat being scratched at just the right spot. “So you think I’m pretty?”

“And a brat” San makes a point of saying, “But pretty? Definitely.”

Woo and San flirting is nothing new to you, you’ve seen it enough that it doesn’t even phase you, but this is the first time you’ve ever been in the middle of it. Physically wedged between them, feeling their temperatures rise as San cups Woo’s face and leans in for a kiss.

Good manners dictate that you shouldn’t stare but you aren’t sure what else you can be expected to do. Their lips look so fluffy as they meet. They kiss each other with equal parts desire and restraint. Their longing for each other radiates off of them and soaks into you. But that longing’s not only theirs, it’s yours too. Something new has been awakened inside of you and it has your heart racing.

San draws in a breath as their lips part, a light chuckle leaving him at the star crossed look in your eyes. “You know…” he hums, his hand finding your throat, “We’ve always wondered what your lips taste like.” His thumb brushes your chin, tilting your head so that your lips graze his. “Can I taste them?”

A floaty “Yes” leaves your lips and time seems to slow to a crawl as he lulls you into a kiss that has the room spinning again. His lips are as soft as they appeared and he pours into you that same desire, that same longing. Restraint? Now that’s a different story. The deeper he kisses you—his tongue eagerly exploring your mouth—the harder it is to hold back.

“You can’t have her all to yourself” Woo says, tugging San’s hair to break the kiss, “I want some of her too.”

You hardly have a chance to recover from San’s kiss when Woo’s pressing his lips to yours, making you feel light headed all over again. He floods you with more of the same feelings but there’s something different about the way that he kisses you. He abandons any hope of containing his desires, his lips feverishly moving against yours. He hums at the taste of you, like you’re his new favorite dessert and all he wants is more.

“It’s getting late, Woo. I think we should go to bed. Don’t you?” San asks, running his fingers along your hips.

Woo nods, nibbling at your bottom lip, “Mmhmm.”

They slip away from you, heading for the hallway that leads to their bedroom. How cruel it is of them to just leave you standing here with your head all foggy and your cutest panties soaked through. You lean against the back of the couch, missing the contact but grateful for the chance to catch your breath. With all the air you were losing you might’ve fainted otherwise.

“Are you coming?” San calls out, lingering just outside of his bedroom. The light from the bedroom bathes the dark hallway in a warm glow that reflects off of San’s chest as he pops the buttons of his shirt open one by one.

You cross your legs, hoping to quiet the noise between them that’s only worsened at the sight of his bare skin. “Uh, yeah, I just, uh…have to get out of this dress first.”

“Don’t worry, sweetheart” he smiles, amused by your shyness, “We can help with that.”

Your body moves as if it has a mind of its own. Each step towards him is so delicate you’d be forgiven for thinking that you floated your way to him. Placing a hand on the small of your back, San ushers you into the bedroom where an already shirtless Woo stands by the dresser fussing with his watch.

“Somebody need help with something?’ Woo asks, shaking his wrist free of the designer watch.

San brushes past you, tossing his own shirt onto the bed. “Her dress. She needs help getting out of it.”

Setting his watch down on the dresser, Woo crosses the room, taking a seat at the edge of the bed. He locks eyes with you, telling you to come to him without having to say it. There’s a pull to them. Like gravity holds you to the ground, your heart holds you to them. You’ve always felt it but tonight it’s infinitely stronger. They could call you to the moon and you’d find a way there.

“It really is a beautiful dress” Woo says, his hands tracing your figure the moment you’re within reach. He spreads his legs, bringing you in close enough to feel the tip of his nose graze the softness of your belly through the fabric. “It suits your figure well, not that a body like yours needs much help.” His palms come to rest at your hips, indulgent fingers massaging them as his thumbs ease the fabric higher and higher above your thighs.

“You’re always so sweet to me” you sigh, running your fingers through his hair, “If you’re not careful one day it’ll all go to my head.”

Pausing to admire the plushness of your thighs, he trails kisses along them, eyes flicking up to meet your gaze. “Good” he grins, pushing your dress above your waist. His hands slip back down to your thighs, another pair of hands gripping your dress from behind.

“You should let things get to your head more” San whispers into your ear, the defined muscles of his chest flush against your back. There’s something else pressed against you too. Something thick and hard poking into the tender flesh of your now exposed ass. Mindlessly you press back into it, breath hitching as you feel his need grow even stronger from your teasing.

“I think you let someone make you forget how special you are” Woo says, placing a kiss achingly close to your core, “But that’s okay. We’ll remind you.”

Woo’s tongue darts out, gliding up and down to taste you through panties already dripping with your essence. Easing your thighs apart, he tucks your panties to the side, a solitary finger petting your slippery entrance. A pulse of warmth ripples through you, pooling right between your legs where the tip of Woo’s tongue has found your clit, twirling around the bundle of nerves so artfully that any remaining ability you had to think straight simply falls away. Looping an arm around your right thigh, he hoists it up, throwing it over his shoulder.

Instinctively you look down but gain only the briefest glimpse of his head diving between your thighs before your dress is flying over your head, slinking to the ground beside you. You didn’t wear a bra tonight, the dress wouldn’t allow you to, and San’s grateful for it. That’s one less thing between him and those breasts that bounce against your chest so deliciously. He captures them in his hands, feeling the weight of them against his palms.

“So soft” San mumbles, suckling at the fragrant skin of your neck.

Shaping your breasts beneath his touch, he takes two fingers and lightly strokes your nipples. You let out the sweetest, softest moan and he pinches your nipples, beyond pleased at how that moan falls apart on the tip of your tongue. For every moan you let out he pinches them harder, pushing you further, just to see how much you can take or how much you want to take.

Your head falls back and San kisses your neck with even more hunger than before, leaving a trail of marks behind that will no doubt be hickeys by morning. Tears decorate your lashes like constellations, the overstimulation wrecking every part of you.

“You’re clenching like crazy, sweetie. You want something to fill you up?” Woo asks, his finger still stroking your slit, torturing you with the possibilities.

You whine, hips attempting to sink down onto his finger, but San grips you tighter, forcing you to straighten up.

“You have such a pretty voice” San taunts, dipping a hand between your legs to play with your clit, “Use it. You want us to fill you up or not, baby?”

Your breaths quicken, body trembling as you grab onto San’s arm, nails raking his skin. “Ah, I want it, Sannie. I want you to fill me up, pretty please.”

“Oh, pretty please? How can we say no to that?” Woo grins, gathering your arousal with his fingertips. He eases further onto the bed, lying back to watch how his fingers glisten in the light. “Come here, sweetie.”

San slows his movements, kissing you tenderly as he lets you down gradually before placing you on the bed. You get on your hands and knees without being told, crawling up the bed until San grabs your hips, stopping you when your face hovers just above Woo’s waist.

Tangling his fingers in your hair, Woo tilts your head up, raising his soaked fingers to your honeyed lips. San’s hands collide with your plump ass, the sting making you cry out and forcing your lips to part just enough for Woo’s fingers to slip in between them. You’ve never tasted yourself before, it’s something you never dared to try, but as Woo coats your tongue in your own juices you find yourself enjoying it so much that you’re sucking on his fingers, praying for more.

Behind you San’s rubbing your ass to soothe the sting, his eyes glued to your dripping entrance. It’s been so long since he’s been with a woman that he’d forgotten how pretty a pussy could be and yours is without a doubt as pretty as they come. Your folds are so soft, your hole so needy and wet, that his cock’s straining against his zipper, aching to have you.

“Does your tongue feel this good when you do everything?” Woo asks when his fingers pop free from your mouth.

Placing your hand on the bulge that awaits inches from your face, you let your palm ride the outline of his cock. “Let me show you.”

Woo’s caught off guard by your boldness but it only makes him want you more. Unzipping his pants, there’s little you have to do to free him from his underwear. His cock’s eager to meet you, throbbing and leaking as you stroke his length. You circle the pink tip with your tongue, dragging it across the top to collect his arousal. Your fingers wrap around the base, keeping him in place as your lips wrap around his cock, stretching to take his thickness.

You’ve seen their cocks before, by accident of course, and somewhere in the filthiest corners of your mind you always wondered what it’d be like to have one in your mouth. Now you know and you love everything about it. How comfortably he fits in your mouth. How you can feel all the finer details of his cock with your tongue. And those noises he makes when the tip hits the back of your throat—moaning like he’s never felt anything better—are like music to your ears.

“San!” you want to cry out when he grabs you by your hips, thrusting his cock into you. Of course you can’t talk. With Woo’s cock shoved this far down your throat you can only mumble, drooling down his length while San’s pulsing against your walls. For a quick second, quicker than you can blink, your vision goes blurry. When San asked if you wanted to be full he meant full. Bottomed out, stretched to the brink, feeling all of him with nothing left to desire.

San leans forward, kissing along your spine. “You took me so well, baby. You’re being such a good girl for us tonight.”

He snaps his hips into you again and you arch your back, causing him to slam right into your sweet spot. You tremble and he knows he’s found it, the one spot that’s gonna make you unravel for him. You’re in no position to see him—in fact, you’re in the perfect position not to—but it makes him happy. He’s determined to make you feel good, every stroke of his cock dedicated to making you lose it.

But he can’t begin to ignore how good this feels for him too. Your walls are velvety and smooth, clinging to him as he glides in and out of your tight little hole. Each time he thrusts into you the force travels through your perfect figure, bouncing you right back onto him. San knows he’s bottomed out but somehow you seem to be sucking him in deeper, his abs tightening at the tension already building in his abdomen.

“Fuck, you’re so wet. Look at you” San groans, pulling back enough to see the juices trickling out of you.

Gripping the blanket with one hand, you try to use all of your strength to prop yourself up but you can’t. San’s thrusts are too powerful, the pleasure’s too strong, and your body’s going limp. Cupping your fluffy cheeks, Woo pets them, pressing his cock even further down your throat. “It’s okay, baby. We’ll take care of you. Just let go.”

Releasing your hold on the blanket, you do your best to let go of it—of everything. Your muscles begin to relax, the full weight of your body falling into their hands. Between them they develop a rhythm, pleasing your holes in perfect synchronicity. You’re dripping from both ends, clenching and sucking, moaning and whining. You’re a perfect little mess. Everything they could ever ask for.

There’s something ethereal about being between the two of them. Your body feels light, like you're floating somewhere else but you’re right here with them. Not being fucked, being made love to. Being treated like every part of your body is this sacred thing that they’re so grateful to have.

“I wish you could see yourself right now” San sighs, running his hands down your sides, “Our pretty girl.”

Their pretty girl. It does something to you to be called that. It breaks you in a million ways. All the best ones. A swell of energy builds in your body, like a tree growing and spreading its branches out to the furthest reaches of your form.

“Mmmm…” you whine, heavy lids rising to flash those gorgeous glassy eyes up at Woo.��

San feels your hips stutter and catches you, keeping you steady. “You ready to cum, baby?”

You nod, puffy lips still too tightly wound around Woo’s cock to make out words. Could you if he even let you?

“That’s it. Cum all over Sannie’s cock” Woo coos, his thumb brushing your quivering bottom lip, “Just like that. Good girl.”

Your mind goes blank, void of the faintest thought of anything. You’re caught in the ecstasy of your high, walls fluttering as you squirt down San’s cock. He quickens his thrusts, prolonging your orgasm long enough that when his finally hits you’re still pulling him in, milking him of every drop of cum he has.

Riding out his high, San pushes you forward, forcing your lips to meet the base of Woo’s cock. Woo raises his hips, sloppy movements bringing him closer and closer to the edge until he’s spilling down your throat, filling your cheeks with warm white liquid. He slips out of your mouth and you collapse onto his stomach, gasping for air as you try to recall which planet you’re on.

Completely spent, a dizzy San collapses on the bed beside his boyfriend, intentionally leaving enough room for you. “Are you sleeping there tonight?” he teases.

“No” you pout, motioning to hit him on the arm but making no impact at all. It’s like trying to punch someone in a dream. Nothing.

San catches your arm, pulling you into the space between them. “Are you usually violent after your orgasms?”

Woo tucks an arm around you, lovingly kissing your shoulder. “Not that we’re complaining. I’ve been known to like a little slap sometimes.”

“I’ll remember that next time” you promise, responding to his kiss with one of your own to the bridge of his nose. Turning to San, you kiss him on the cheek, giggling at how his face lights up at the sweet gesture.

Settling into each other’s embrace, the chatter quiets but not awkwardly so. There’s a sense of peace in each other’s company. A comfort in this newfound feeling of completion. All this time you’ve been together but never quite in the way that any of you wanted. There was always a barrier, something unspoken keeping you from letting your true feelings show, and now that’s melted away leaving only the three of you together.

“Baby” San whispers after some time has passed. Your head’s resting on his chest and he rubs your cheek, signaling to you that he needs to get up. “I’m gonna go run us a shower, okay?”

He sits up, ready to hop out of bed, when you throw your arms around him and drag him back down. “No. You whine” throwing on your best baby face, “You stay.”

“Oh my god. I have two of you now” he laughs, too soft for you to resist your pouting.

“Oh? You have me now?”

Woo props himself up on his elbow, head resting in the palm of his hand. “Don’t we?” he asks, drawing on your naked body with his fingertips. The question is playful but there’s a seriousness to it that can’t be ignored.

You let the question sink in, realizing for the first time that you don’t have to pretend anymore. “Yes, you have me” you sigh, batting your pretty doe eyes.

“It’s settled then. You’re all ours” San smiles, cuddling back up beside you.

Woo lays back down, nestling his face against your neck. “I like the sound of that.”

Your bodies fit back together like the pieces of a puzzle. Everything about this feels right. Every small moment so special. There’s romance in each other’s breaths. Intimacy in even the faintest brush of your skin against theirs as you shift in the bed. You could stay here forever. And you intend to.

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krystalcat · 8 months ago

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Aren’t you embarrassed? Part 2: P.S

NonIdol!Toxic!Fratboy!SeonghwaxAfab!Reader

HAH I wrote this faster than I was expecting! But thank you @luffypants, @cloudysannie, and @krystalcat for requesting a part 2. I feel like we got some justice!

Taglist: @n1nme4r @e3ellie Let me know if you would like to be a part of the taglist too.

Cw: Explicit language, mean Hwa again... some talks of sexual content (it's like one sentence), Jongho is thrown in here too!

Part 1

Masterlist | Ateez Masterlist

"The number you have dialed is unavailable please try again later" "What the fuck?" Seonghwa tried to call you the next day only to be met with the automated message "What's wrong Hwa? Your booty call didn't answer for once?" Wooyoung cackled at Seonghwa's confused expression. He tried again "The number you have dialed is unavailable please try again later" "No what the actual fuck. What is she doing?" He was frustrated, mentally and sexually. How come you weren't answering? "Is it going straight to voicemail? She might've turned her phone off, ya know with exams and stuff coming up, She might be in the library" Yunho said "No no she ALWAYS answers" Seonghwa tried to call you again. Same message. "Text her. duh" and so he did but what he got in response filled him with anger "She blocked me. She actually blocked" Seonghwa couldn't believe what he was looking at but the green bubble was starting right back at him "HAH" "No way" Wooyoung and Yunho both responded at the same time. This isn't how it goes. Seonghwa is ALWAYS the one who does the blocking, not the other way around. Wooyoung's laughing ceased when Seonghwa stormed out, slamming the door behind him. He needed to find you.

"Thanks for helping me study today (y/n) I really appreciate it" Yuna smiled brightly at you. You both had economics together and she was nervous for the exam and you needed a distraction from... him. "It's no problem, the exam is next week so let me know if you want to study again" You smiled back at her "Of course. I'll see you tomorrow" You waved at her as she walked away. Your smile dropped when you saw the last person you wanted to talk to. Turning quickly, you made a hasty retreat across campus so you could hide in your dorm. But fate had other plans for you. "Ah not so fast" Your breath hitched when you felt a strong grip on your wrist "Oh! Hey Seonghwa. Sorry I really can't talk right now I have to get to class." you say nervously trying to free yourself "Don't care." He spits out before dragging you to an empty table in the courtyard "You blocked me" it comes out as a statement more than a question.

You look down at your lap getting anxious under his intense gaze. You give him a weak nod, biting your lip "Mhm. Why?" you opened your mouth to respond but nothing came out so you opted to shrug instead. He didn't like that. "Come on. Use your words. You're a big girl yeah?" Seonghwa was not the patient type, never has been, and never will be so when you continued to look down at your lap he snapped a little "For someone so smart you look dumb as fuck right now. I asked you a question and you can't even answer me" his voice was getting louder and louder with each word causing the few others that were in the vicinity to turn to the two of you. You slapped your hands on the table in front of you finally having enough of this, of him "I hate the way you treat me and I'm not doing this anymore. You're a piece of shit Park Seonghwa and I quite frankly don't understand how you have any friends, so yeah I blocked you. I don't need you, I deserve better." Your words came out a little louder than you wanted but you needed him to hear you "Treat you like what? A fuck buddy? That's all you are. You have nothing to offer other than that. You have nothing to offer anyone except your body. You've got it all wrong baby. I'm the best you're gonna get" Tears welled up in your eyes and you grabbed your stuff before standing "Bye Seonghwa" "YOU'LL COME BACK TO ME JUST WATCH, they always do" He yelled at your figure as you disappeared from view

Seonghwa, Hongjoong, and Yeosang sat on the couch watching some show Hwa didn't care about when there was a sudden knock at the door. He looked at the other two who looked glued to their spots "Oh don't worry I'll get it" he rolled his eyes and stood up, the pair opting to smile in response. He swings open the door about to tell off whoever it was "We don't want whatever the fuck you're sell- oh" He let out a quick laugh and a smirk exploded on his face when he saw you in one of your cute little skirts "I see you decided to come back to me huh? I'm too good for you to forget. It's okay, I can forget all about our little argument the other day" he felt his pride swelling as he held his arm out for you. Letting out a scoff, you cross your arms at the arrogant boy in front of you "Oh please, I'm not here for you" you roll your eyes at him. "Move Hwa she's here for me" Jongho. Seonghwa felt like his head was going to explode. Hongjoong and Yeosang sat frozen, expressions matching each other, shock. All three of them didn't know what to think. Seonghwa had you wrapped around his finger for over a month and now you were here with their youngest member.

When it was all over you came bounding down the stairs with Jongho's arm wrapped around you as he walked you to the door. You stopped and turned to Seonghwa who sat stewing on the couch. With a pout adorning your lips you spoke to him for the last time "I guess you're not as good as you think" you spat out before turning to give Jongho a quick kiss and going on your merry way. Seonghwa let out a scoff and he couldn't stop himself "She was faking it. Just so you know" He was spiteful and a part of him felt bad considering it was Jongho of all people. "Oh yeah? Seemed pretty real to me. especially when I did this thing with my fingers, had her gushing all over them" he had seen through Seonghwa's jealous words "I don't know man, I think I would know her best" and he did but because he knew you so well he knew that you were in fact NOT faking it.

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krystalcat · 11 months ago

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The Seventh Minute - KHJ

When Hongjoong came to your life, he made promises he promised to keep. Turns out your lover is a powerful entity, and the promises he made to you are not the only ones he aims to keep. That includes the promise of your death.

(This is like ‘My Demon', but if the main female lead made a wish instead.)

Word Count: 2.3k

Tags: a bit of fluff, explicit scenes, talks of death, reader is depressed, angst.

～⁠～⁠～

The Mornings had become moments you dreaded.

Opening your eyes has now started noticeably becoming more painful each morning. Maybe it's because you've started becoming more aware of your surroundings. Of yourself. Small movements like blinking, taking your first breath once you're conscious. Like your toes twitching as your body roars to life like an engine. Like a car getting started. Like the way you stare at the ceiling, unable to move even though you know you should have gotten up by now.

You never would have realized that this is what it would have come to. No gut feeling, no random sign from the universe. Nothing. When he told you he would be by your side, you believed him. When he told you he would make sure that he protected you, you believed him. When he said he would grant you one wish, and that it would come true, you didn't believe him. Besides, what kind of wish would get you out of the situation you call your life? What kind of wish would get you away from your family?

Wrapped in the throes of pleasure that night, he asked you to make a wish.

“J- Ah!” On his knees in front of you with your legs wrapped around his waist, he grunted. He tenderly held your waist as he thrusted inside you, your walls reacting by squeezing him, making him grunt again. Your half opened eyes watched him as he looked down upon where your bodies were connected, his hair shielding his eyes. He suddenly fell to your naked chest, grabbed your arms and wrapped them around his muscular shoulders. You shuddered at the contact.

“Make a wish.” You were caught up on the noises your lover was making that you almost missed the words he uttered. “H- huh? Make a- hng!” A particular hard thrust cut you off as he noticed how absent you were. How he loved that. How absent from reality you looked when you were with him. How he was able to make you forget your problems for a while. It is these moments where he wished he could give you everything. That's why he, without thinking, told you to make a wish.

As his movements sped up, so did your panting. He had alternated to hard grinds rather than thrusting, and it's like you could feel his soul. Your grip around his shoulders tightened. His normally cold hands around your waist felt warm at that moment. It is when he pushed his head deeper into your neck that you came, subtly shaking as you did so. You blacked out for a moment not realizing that your actions prompted your lover's orgasm. He relaxed on top of you.

You opened your eyes slightly.

“I wish I didn't have to take over the burden of my family's business.”

Hongjoong lifted his head and looked at the calendar by your door.

26th of February.

Even as you lay on your bed staring at your ceiling, none of the events that transpired next could be foreshadowed, you thought. You didn't think you would have even lived for ten more years from that moment. But you severely underestimated Hongjoong's ability to keep his promises. He said he would make sure you lived. That you would be happy as long as he was in your life. That you would thrive. Your lover tends to spew nonsense sometimes. So then, you brushed off his comments.

And then he told you he was a Demon. You were 21, two years since you met him, one since he asked you to make that wish.

In that year, a lot had changed. Ever since the chairwoman died, there had been an uproar among your ‘siblings’ about who was to inherit the title. The will was read a couple of days after she was laid to rest and it turned out she had left the majority of her assets to you, including the responsibility of foreseeing activities throughout her companies. The title of chairwoman. Needless to say, Seungcheol, your supposed older brother, was furious.

“Apparently, they decided to appoint Seungcheol after all, since he was deemed more suited.” You told Hongjoong one day, as you both lay on your couch in your loft. His hand was rubbing circles on your shoulder as you lay on his chest. The room was dark, save for the light coming from the city through the floor-to-ceiling window. “No wonder he was happy this morning.”

Hongjoong smiled softly as he heard you recount the day's tales. “Well good. That's one extremely huge weight off your shoulders, right?” You both chuckled.

“Is there something you want to tell me?” You mused. You figured Hongjoong did something, as your lawyers didn't bother to put up much of a fight with this case. You assumed they simply matched your energy, not wanting to be part of the arguments the Chois were struggling to put up. At least with Seungcheol being the chairman, every complaint about the company chains was none of your business. At least you hoped so.

“What makes you think I had something to do with anything?” He uttered, still smiling.

“Aha! You see?” You suddenly sat up, smiling. “I didn't say you did anything, I just asked if you had something to tell me. Seems like you actually do.”

He shifted his hands and folded them under where his head lay. Still smiling. “You didn't catch on?”

“Catch what?”

He then turned his head and looked behind you. You narrowed your eyes at him and looked behind you. Turns out he was looking at a bookshelf. On that shelf, was a huge green book with a cross symbol on it. On the intersection where the parts of the cross met was a huge green gem. The gem sometimes glowed. You read the book secretly sometimes when Hongjoong was out of the house. Initially you thought that he was just part of a cult, which scared you a bit but didn't surprise you as some high class people were in cults. You had been afraid to ask him what the words in the book meant, especially the parts that weren't in English or any understandable language.

You turn your head towards him. “The first page of the book says ‘demon’.”

He was now staring at you.

“I'm a demon.”

“Why do you talk to me like I'm a fool sometimes.” You slightly smiled.

“I know you're not a fool. And I'm simply stating the truth.” One of his hands left the back of his head. He trailed the one up your clothless thigh, still looking in your eyes. You shuddered a bit but kept your eyes on him, slightly narrowed. Your lover was a bit of a sadist sometimes, so damned are you if you let him know what an effect he has on you.

He traced his eyes down your body. He loved the (his) buttoned shirt you wore. The reason you decided to wear it instead of your clothes, he didn't fully understand. Especially with nothing else but underwear. He only knew that he loved how you looked wearing it, and would be willing to sacrifice his clothes if you kept making him feel like you do.

He too, suddenly sat up and was face to face with you. You shuddered again.

“When I asked you to make the wish, do you remember?” He tucked some of your long hair behind your ear. “You wished that you didn't have to deal with all this drama.”

“Yes?” You drawled.

“I took that away. I made your wish come true."

“You made my wish come true?”

“Hmm. I did, princess.”

He didn't think you understood the weight of what he said. You were so absent that you weren't even taking him seriously. He hated to admit it, but he liked the look in your eyes, the look you give him when he pays attention to you. When he's telling you important information but you're just giving him a look that has him feeling like he has butterflies. Only for him.

Your smile grew as you took your bottom lip to your teeth, lightly biting down. Hongjoong took his thumb to your lip and released it from the harsh confines of your teeth. He leaned in and took it to his teeth instead. The hand that was on your thigh reached around you to grab your ass and pull you towards him, making out with him in the darkness. It was moments like these that felt like a dream. That felt like you were delusional sometimes, like you were a schizophrenic conjuring up a reality you wished you lived in instead.

You pulled away a bit. “I'm not schizophrenic, right?”

Hongjoong was caught unaware with your words and suddenly burst out laughing. “No princess, you're not schizophrenic.”

“Just making sure.” You smiled. You dove back in for that kiss, very aware of the fact that you were turned on. You lightly grinded on him and that gave him a hint. You were suddenly under him as he rolled you over on the couch, your legs still around his waist. He tested you by rolling his hips onto yours while keeping his eyes on you, and you thought that he was very sexy. He had pretty eyes. He slightly smirked when he noticed the absent look in your eyes again.

Just for him.

You were already moaning softly as you struggled to keep eye contact as your eyes threatened to shut. You didn't want to miss any moment.

You didn't want to miss him.

“I love you.” You uttered up at him, staring at him like he created you.

He smiled and dove in to kiss you, and that was your answer.

Your mornings were usually spent with Hongjoong. When you would wake up the next day ready to live another day with him, usually after a night that left your entire body sore. You would almost always wake up to find him staring at you. You would weirdly look at him and lightly slap him sometimes and he would look all shocked and go, ‘Hey! Do you know who you've just slapped? I am a demon!’ And then you would laugh loudly and give him little kisses to calm him down.

Your mornings were usually spent with Hongjoong, when you would make breakfast for the both of you and scold him that he should learn to make food on his own. He would sneer at you and say demons don't make breakfast. You would look at his audacious ass and say that you were done making food for him. If you were in a good mood, he would take you on the kitchen counter with little mercy and joke that you were lesser than him. He would hold your waist while thrusting into you from behind and say, “You wanna try talking back to a demon again? Huh?” and make you come quicker than the toast would be ready. However, if you were in a bad mood, he would come up behind you and hug you, hands heavy on your waist, claiming he was moral support. You would simply roll your eyes as you continue to fry the eggs.

Your mornings with Hongjoong were always chaotic. You never caught a break. But who needs a break with Hongjoong around? He was a light, a comfort, a challenge. He was your favorite person as you didn't like that many people you knew. Ten years of happiness and laughter, worries and arguments, little ailments and relaxations. You did it all.

This morning however, like the past months, weren't as happy. You got up from bed. Alone. No arms around you, no breathing down your neck, no kisses down your spine, nothing. You took the small container that was beside you on the desk and took out two pills, which you swallowed dry. You looked down the container in what seemed like slow motion to you and noticed only three pills remain. You didn't think about refilling the container as it wasn't necessary. Besides, depression wasn't going to be what would cause your death after all.

You got up and slightly stretched, looking through your bedroom window. The city was alive but it was quiet around you. You might have been depressed but you were currently content. Like a break in a symphony before the last short piece played. Like an imperfect cadence in a piece of music that indicated the end was near, but not quite yet. Like you were standing on the road, but you could see a sign saying ‘you have arrived.’ Only you weren't clear on what the destination was.

You willed yourself to cry these past couple of months to no avail. You thought it was because you had already had it in you, the will to die. But the will to die was taken away. He promised he would make you happy, he did. He told you he would stay by your side, he did. Except now though, when you had chased him away a couple of days ago after an argument you had. Your imminent death hasn't been easy on him. You didn't want him to see you like this. All depressed and empty. You missed him though, that was the truth.

You walked to the calendar by your bedroom door.

25th February.

You closed your eyes and deeply inhaled before walking out of your room, unaware of the presence at the corner with tired eyes. The presence that has always watched you when you woke up. The presence that has never left your side, because he promised you that he wouldn't.

～⁠～⁠～

°•°• Note: My first fic on here. Tell me what y'all think!

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krystalcat · 11 months ago

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A NIGHT IN HOLLYWOOD ☆ | ATEEZ SERIES

— featuring ot8!ateez in iconic HOLLYWOOD romance and rom-com movies

— TICKET BOOTH IS CLOSED! 🎟️ : the movies are about to start! all fics will have MATURE CONTENT! MDNI!

sit back, relax, grab your popcorn and tissues, and enjoy the silver screen . . .

THE PARENT TRAP ☆ | KHJ

TROPE: exes to lovers! divorced!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

AS DIVORCED PARENTS to two twin daughters, you and hongjoong have your fair share of work cut out. Driving to piano lessons, cheering at hockey games, drop offs at each other’s houses, it can all be a little much. But could a relaxing summer retreat as a whole family possibly rekindle past emotions you’ve swept under the rug? . . .

— OUT IN THEATRES RIGHT NOW!

DIRTY DANCING ☆ | PSH

TROPE: bad boy!seonghwa, enemies to lovers!au , 60s!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, angst, crack

THAT WAS THE SUMMER before JFK got shot, before the beatles came, and when you and your family stayed at your aunts summer resort. That was also the summer you met resident heart breaker and cocky entertainment crew member, Park Seonghwa. Remind yourself why you’re suddenly dance partners with him again? . . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

PRETTY WOMAN ☆ | JYH

TROPE: dilf!yunho x stripper!reader, strangers to lovers!au, contract lovers!au,

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

LIVING IN BEVERLY HILLS comes with its perks. But for two different people such as yourself and multimillionaire business tycoon, Jeong Yunho, both of you can’t seem to find what you’re looking for in the so called ‘Land of Dreams’. So the proposal is simple really… let him spoil you with money, jewelry and clothes while in return, you stay by his side. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

MR AND MRS KANG ☆ | KYS

TROPE: marriage!au, established relationship, spy!au, assasin!au

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST, crack

WHO WOULD’VE THOUGHT picture perfect suburban neighbourhood couple, Mr. and Mrs. Kang would be at each others necks trying to kill each other first. You’ve both come this far in your marriage while hiding your secret identities, but it looks like only one person can remain standing. I guess you both did promise “in sickness and in health”. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMAN HOLIDAY ☆ | CS

TROPE: royalty!au, princess!reader x reporter!san, strangers to lovers!

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst

AS CROWN PRINCESS, you’re on a tightly scheduled tour of European capital cities. But after an especially rough day in Rome, you sneak out of the embassy to explore the so called Eternal City, running into no other than celebrity news reporter, Choi San, looking out for his next big royal scandal. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

10 THINGS I HATE ABOUT YOU ☆ | SMG

TROPE: college!au, stoner!mingi, enemies to lovers!au, fakedating(?)au, y2k aesthetic

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

YOUR YOUNGER BROTHER Wooyoung is desperate in getting you, his older sister in college, to date so that he can finally date in highschool. The options for potential candidates are scarce, considering men flock away like birds the second you’re near. Good thing campus stoner and weirdo, Song Mingi is the same as well. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

HOW TO LOSE A GUY IN 10 DAYS ☆ | JWY

TROPE: fashioncolumnist!reader x advertiser!wooyoung, y2k aesthetic, fake dating(?)au, enemies to lovers!au, mutual pining

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, angst, crack, slice of life

LISTEN, IF IT MEANS getting a promotion at your editorial company as a news journalist instead of pop culture and lifestyle columnist, you’d do anything. And that includes pretending to be the most annoying and clingiest girlfriend to some guy for 10 whole days. But just so you know, Wooyoung likes clingy. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

ROMEO & JULIET ☆ | CJH

TROPE: unrequited love, star crossed lovers!au, mutual pining, secret romance (shakespeare be rolling in his grave rn)

TAGS: nsfw, smut, fluff, ANGST

FOR CENTURIES, a plague of hatred and hostility has been present in the relations between the House of Choi and your own. You know you can’t be together, but yet why do you keep catching that dark haired boy staring at you so longingly? And why do you want him just as bad?. . .

— not yet in theatres . . .

a/n: for updates, follow my blog! this will be a work-in-progress so I ask for your support:(🙏

taglist: @vent-stink @dazzlingstarrs @vcutparis @xpixie @potatos-on-clouds @showingmafandomlove @bibbleypoof @kpop-will-kill-me @avantalem @beabatiny @gabrielle-brugger @nsixns @amaranth1ne @stayminho @myblovedjyh @kkeshia @rebekah-reads @yoonbroom @4kwp @butterflydemons @iwaizumiismybae @soobinsputnik @stayatinykatsy @atitties @justconniez @kitten4sannie @ghostskilledmyaddiction21 @cheolsthicthighs @morethingsfandom @geminiml95 @byuntrash101 @quailbagutte @syubseokie @newworldwritings @urmom26john @sleepy-kat-here @pearltinyy @hjshyhyssnmgwyjh @cursedeastern @starryunho @piratekingateez2001 @jiminbility @paumll @drinkingrumandcocacola @roomsofangel @channies-bbg-room @meanaonthemoon @teeztopia @pommelex @kiln9z @sanhwalvr @youresolivlie @edawg77 @a-0206 @summer-gyu @bvidzsoo @yoongzsmile28 @tournesol155

taglist became too long so find the second taglist here💀 no longer taking requests

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krystalcat · 11 months ago

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Cheerleaders and Stereotypes

SUMMARY: Choi San isn't an idiot. He's also very patient. How long will it take for you to let him admit that he bagged the hottest cheerleader in the world?

GENRE: fluff, angst, smut

PAIRING: Choi San x afab!reader

WC: ~4.7k

ATEEZ MASTERLIST

PERM TAGLIST: @winterchimez @juyeonszn @flwoie

18+ MDNI AGELESS BLOGS WILL BE BLOCKED

WARNINGS: reader is dumb, relationship is actually a little toxic I won't even lie, san tries to make reader jealous and it works, p in v sex, fingering, size kink, SIZE. KINK., softdom!san, big dick!san, um reader struggles to ride san idk, bulge kink, san lowkey mocks the reader a bit, insecurities, arguing, san lowkey is way too patient for reader, idk i think that's it

A/N: h-heyyyyy *chuckles nervously* Everyone say welcome back tumblr user itsbeeble! Everyone say thank you @from-izzy and @sanaxo-o for distracting me while I was writing and to ally for supporting me through a very very very very long writers block hahahahhahahhahhahha....haha...ha

Choi San, despite popular belief, was not an idiot. Not really at least. Unfortunately for him, he seemed to fit most of the stereotypes of a college athlete.

He was fit, that was without a doubt and he would not deny it. Six days a week in the gym after football practice did him good. Toned arms that hardly fit any of his shirts, the fabric stretching and nearly tearing every time he got dressed. Thick thighs that bulged against every pair of jeans or sweatpants, noticeable from the stands on game day and having girls swooning as he walked. Not to mention his ass. Had he not built up a brick wall called “confidence” the comments made about his ass would have had him blushing and covering his cheeks rather than smirking.

God, that smirk. He flashed it casually to anyone who looked at him— students, professors, the crowd, the opposing team, the cheerleaders. It was a near unfortunate bonus that he was just as hot as he was fit. That stupid chiselled jaw, the dimples, and his tall frame. It’s irritating.

At least, it’s irritating for you.

See, being the supposedly stupid captain of the football team came with many stereotypes.

Dating the captain of the cheerleading squad was just one more, even if no one knew.

No one important, that is.

“Sannie,” Yewon was practically hanging off San’s arm, her manicured nails lightly scratching the tan skin. The sing-song tone of her voice made you cringe, the noise scraping at your eardrums and creating a dull throb in your already aching skull. Your back was turned to the pair, but San could tell you were likely trying to grow eyes in the back of your skull to watch the interaction. That stupid, casual smirk of his was trained on the newer cheerleader, her eyes big and filled with faux innocence. “How did you get so big?”

A poorly stifled snort from another girl on the squad, Sihyeon. A good friend of yours who knows exactly what goes on between you and San behind closed doors, and knows exactly what he’s planning. That little snort has you turning the daggers you call eyes onto her, the girls around her shifting uncomfortably at the now tense energy around you.

Jealousy. That’s what San’s goal is and you know it. He’s pulled this trick several times before, trying to egg you on and expose the relationship that you’d chosen to hide. So he’d play stupid, that same act that everyone believes is a poor reality. The dumb, hot captain of the football team who can’t seem to get a girlfriend despite the girls falling at his feet for a moment of his attention. All he wants is for you to finally get jealous enough to rip that girl off his arm and finally stake your claim publicly.

Unfortunately, you’re patient.

Fortunately, so is he.

He smirks down at her, his arm grazing the skin of her lower back that her top doesn’t cover. You can practically hear her breathing stutter, and your grip on your pom poms tightens.

“Never skip a day at the gym, never skip practice, throw a good party on the weekends.” His answer is…lackluster at best. Your nose wrinkles, knowing he did it on purpose. The idiotic responses are for you, in hopes that you’ll turn around and yell at him for pretending to be a moron even though he’s one of the best students in the Kinesiology department.

“You’ll have to coach me through a workout one day,” Yewon grabs San’s arm tighter when she sees you turn to face the pair.

“Maybe I should take you up on that.” San isn’t looking at her, not even a brief glance down to acknowledge that she’s there. No, his eyes are trained on you. Daring you to say something, anything.

Do it.

You know you want to.

Stake the claim.

You know I’m yours. Why not let everyone else know?

You open your mouth to speak, and he quirks an eyebrow at you. Do it, do it, do it.

“Kim Yewon,” the words are laced with venom and she goes rigid. “Break ended ten minutes ago.”

“I was talking to Sannie!” She glared at you, and you almost laughed.

“Sannie,” you mocked, watching a pout form on your boyfriend’s lips, “has his own practice to get to.”

“Our practice ended half an hour ago.” He argued, toeing the limits of how far he can push you before you finally break.

“Then leave.”

“I don’t want to. I wanna stay and talk with Yewon.” He challenged. Sihyeon grimaces behind you, watching as San digs himself a grave not even he can climb out of.

The two of you stare each other down for a few moments, a mix of emotions running through you. You know that he’s challenging you and trying to get a rise out of you, but you know better. You know you can’t challenge him like that without exposing your relationship— the one thing in your life that you want to keep to yourself for just a little while longer.

You’re the first to cave, your shoulders slumping just enough to be noticed by San, and his eyebrows knit together.

“Do what you want. Practice is done for the day.”

The two-story rental house you share with Sihyeon and a few other girls from the squad is eerily silent. The air conditioning and the sound of you quietly walking around your room are the only things keeping you from the thoughts in your head.

Did San take Yewon up on the ‘offer’?

Did you take it too far?

Should you have just caved for him?

What if he’s sick of this? Of the secret meet-ups and the acting?

Something hits the window as you’re walking past it, and a loud squeak escapes you. You whip your head around just as, what you now realize is, a rock hits the window. Not a large rock. Small, just enough to be noticeable and visible to the naked eye as it tumbles back down to the front lawn. Another rock as you take the two steps you need in order to peer down and see San with a pile of rocks on the ground next to him, a fourth in his hand ready to be thrown if needed. He grins when he sees you, tossing the rock up and down a couple of times before taking aim.

You fling your window open, scowling down at him before he winds his hand back.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Choi San.” He pouts up at you, but all you do is glare.

“How else was I supposed to get your attention?”

“Ring the doorbell, dumbass. Like a normal person.”

Much to your annoyance, San just grins and drops the rock. “Where’s the fun in that?”

You lean against the window frame, arms folded as you run your tongue over your lip in thought. “Shouldn’t you be with Yewon?”

You can see San’s nose wrinkle at the thought, but he doesn’t respond. Instead, he makes his way to the tree he’d been using as a sort of ladder to get into your room. He’d been doing that since you met, since the first time you ever slept together. He’d never been a fan of the whole…front door tactic. Your father would probably hate him. He’d think San was no good, a troublemaker if anything. You would disagree.

Maybe your relationship was more stereotypical than you were willing to believe.

San’s shoes are louder than either of you had expected as he jumps down from the tree, grimacing at the noise he makes.

“If my neighbors didn’t know any better, the police would’ve been here by now.” You shuffle back as your boyfriend tucks awkwardly through your window. His large frame pushes against the frame, the vinyl creaking against him as it struggles to stay in one piece. His neck cranes to look up at you, his feet hitting the ground with another loud thump.

“Glad they know better then.” He pushes a hand through his hair, the silky black strands falling loosely over his forehead in spite of his best efforts.

A moment of silence falls between you, and you take this time to sit at your dresser. Makeup wipes and cleansers are scattered in front of you from when you’d made a weak attempt at distracting yourself from, well, the problem you’d created.

San sits on your bed behind you, watching every move you make. He sits quietly, like a child in a timeout chair. He waits, letting you make the calls. You never knew why he started doing that— started letting you take the lead in every argument, even the petty nonsensical ones.

“You never answered my question,” your eyes are trained on him through the mirror. He presses his lips together, loosely folding his legs.

“Are you really that upset?” The question is innocent enough, but it brings back the previous irritation from the field.

“Why wouldn’t I be? My boyfriend is openly flirting with other people knowing that I’ll get pissed off. You flaunt that knowledge like it’s your fucking birthright or whatever. Do you really think I’m not gonna get upset about it?” You put your moisteurizer down with more force than you’d wanted to, shaking your dresser a bit. San flinches at the sudden noise, gnawing at his lip in thought.

“I’m sorry, Y/N.”

“Are you, though?” Your eyes are narrowed as you turn around in your chair. A momentary pause as San lets the words sink in. He’s patient. So patient with you, even when you feel you don’t deserve it. “You act like you don’t give two shits about our relationship, and then show up at my fucking window acting like nothing is wrong and that the world is all sunshine and fucking rainbows. You go out of your way to piss me off, make me angry at my own squad, just for what? So you can get a good fuck at the end of the day?”

Sometimes you forget that, while Choi San is patient, that patience runs thin.

He isn’t stupid. He knows that this outburst, this frustration, isn’t just at him, but the more you spit your venom at him, taking your anger and misdirecting it, the more his patience begins to run out. You can see it in the clenching of his fists, the ticking of his jaw, and the glare in his eyes.

Unfortunately, you’re far too lost in your mind that you can’t see the way San rises from his seat on your bed and takes a step toward you. Then another, and another, and suddenly he’s right in front of you.

“Sometimes I think that the idiotic front that you put on isn’t exactly a front at all—” You spin around, expecting him to still be on your bed. A loud yelp escapes you when you come face-to-face with his well-built frame. “Jesus Christ, San! Why the fuck are you right behi—”

“Shut up,” he says it so simply, so calmly that you almost think he’s not being serious.

“Don’t fucking tell me what to do!” You snarl, and San scoffs.

“Do you even realize why we’re in this situation to begin with?”

“Yeah, you were flirting with my fucking—”

“Don’t blame me for your fucking problems,” San spits out. Your eyes widen and you take a step back. “I’ve been going along with this stupid fucking secret relationship for who knows how long, and all I’ve gotten in return is you bitching about me wanting you to just come out with it!”

“You know I want to keep—”

“You want to keep your love life private,” San interrupts and flings his hands into the air. “I get it. I understand, Y/N. That doesn’t make it suck any less.”

“It isn’t just—” you huff, pressing your hand to your forehead in a poor attempt at calming yourself down. “It isn’t just the fact that I want to keep us private, Sannie. I just— I don’t—”

Your eyes are welling up with tears, and you blink a few times to force them back. San pulls you toward him, his hand practically engulfing yours as he tugs you onto his lap. Your legs are on either side of his, and he laces his fingers with yours, resting them between the two of you.

“I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, sweetheart.” He murmurs, rubbing the back of your hand with his thumb. “Let me help you.”

You shake your head, and his chest rises and falls with a quiet sigh. “I’m just— I’m just so sick of— of everything.”

San presses a little kiss to your forehead, tugging one of his hands free from yours and lacing it through the strand of hair on the back of your head. He doesn’t move for a few moments, placing another kiss on your forehead and then another. He waits for you to calm yourself and gather your thoughts.

“Can—” your voice is quieter, a bit more shaky than it was just moments ago. “Can you kiss me?” San smiles, his lips still just millimeters from your forehead.

“Tell me what’s wrong first.” Your hips shift against his, and you drop your head against the column of his neck. Your breath is warm against his skin, and the scent of your shampoo begins to flood his senses. His hand tugs at your hair, drawing your attention back to him. “You’re absolutely insatiable, you know that? Tell me what’s wrong or I’m leaving.”

You can’t fight the little whine that’s pulled out of you. Not that you wanted to. You wanted him. You wanted Choi San so badly that it hurt.

“I was— I was mad because I didn’t want…” You can hardly form a sentence, too distracted by the gentle tugs at your hair and the way San’s other hand has drifted to your hip, drawing circles underneath the fabric of your sleep shorts.

“What didn’t you want, sweetheart? Tell me.” San pulls your head away from his neck, holding back a grin at the near-glazed look in your eyes.

“I didn’t want to be part of anymore…stereotypes. We already fit so many, I just—I just wanted to hold that one back for a bit longer.” You whine, your lips falling into a pout that San just wants to kiss away. Instead, he smiles.

“Was that so hard, pretty girl? So much fighting just for a silly little reason like that?” Your pout deepens, and he sighs. “You know I love you, right?”

“Yeah…”

“And nothing is gonna change that, no matter how many stereotypes we fall under. You understand?”

“Yes,” San smiles, stroking your hip and squeezing it.

“‘Yes’ what, baby?” Your eyes are glossy now, your lips parted slightly in your daze.

“Yes sir.”

Despite San’s patience running thin, he always recovers it with ease. Patience is what he’s known for in class, on the field, in your relationship, and in your bedroom.

He can edge you for hours, cooing at the way you beg for him, beg for that sweet release, for just one more finger, please just one more.

“Pretty girl,” he strokes your cheek, letting his hand slide down your spine to rest against the small of your back. You’re writhing beneath him, trying desperately to bring your hips up just enough for him to hit that sweet spot inside of you but failing miserably. “I don’t think you can handle anymore.”

Only two of his fingers sit inside you, but it’s more than enough to stretch you out, to provide you with the stimulation you need to go right over the edge—

“San—sir, please.” Your hands grip the pillow beneath your head tightly, nails digging into the fabric so tight you’re afraid it might tear. “Pl—Please lemme cum, I prom—promise I’ll b—be good. Please,” You’re nearly hysterical, fat tears rolling down your cheeks as he plunges his fingers in and out of you, his thumb dancing over your clit but not quite giving you that extra stimulation. Not that you need it with the way he grinds the tips of his fingers into the spongy spot just within his reach.

“You wanna cum that bad?” San leans down, his chest pressed against your back and his lips right up against your ear. “You’re gonna have to work harder than that. Beg for it. Scream. I want everyone to know that you’re mine.”

Patience is a virtue you haven’t quite learned yet. What you have learned? You’re extraordinarily good at making Choi San cave for you.

“Sir,” you plead, pushing your hips back against his hand just enough. There’s a burning feeling in your stomach, the knot winding tighter and tighter until you almost can’t take it. “Please. I’m so so—sorry for yelling. Please I’ve been so good for you. I can take it. Please let me take it. Want you s—so bad. Want you to ma—make me cum. Want you, Sannie! Please, please make me cum. Want you to fuck me so bad, ple—please!”

For a moment, San’s hand stills inside you. For a moment all you can hear is your desperate whining and your boyfriend attempting to steady his breathing.

Then he’s ripping his fingers out of your sopping cunt and rolling you onto your back. His frame looms over you in a way that has your body quivering with anticipation, eyes searching yours for…something that you can’t figure out in your lust-filled haze.

“Such a pretty girl,” San murmurs, pressing his palm at the base of your stomach, one hand nearly covering the expanse of it. “So small, so good for me. So good for Sannie, hm?”

“Yes!” You grab his wrist, nails digging so tightly you’re afraid you might draw blood. “Please, wanna be so good for you Sannie!”

He sighs, prying your hand away from his wrist and pinning it to the mattress. “You say that, but I don’t know if I believe you.”

A sob pushes out of you, your back arching into him. He catches you before you can lower back down to the bed, his arm looping around you to keep you pressed against his chest while he sits back. You’re right where you started— on the bed, straddling him with tears running down your cheeks— but this time you’re both completely undressed. You can feel his cock pressing against your thigh, little twitches being the only indication of any impatience. You try to roll your hips against him, trying anything to get that friction back. San clicks his tongue and shakes his head.

“Naughty girl,” he murmurs, stilling your hips with one hand. “Thought you said you’d be good for me.”

“I—I will!” You grab his shoulders, leaning your face up to his, trying desperately to kiss him— to do anything that might sway his decision. “I’m sorry, sir! I promise I just— I just wanted—”

“I know,” he kisses you gently, smiling softly, deceptively. “I know you just wanted to cum all over your Sannie’s lap. Been edgin’ you for so long, haven’t I? You deserve to cum for being so…patient.” You let out a relieved sob as San releases your hip and grabs his cock. He guides it through your folds briefly, soaking it in your arousal and pumping his hand up and down his shaft to thoroughly lubricate it. “You’re gonna prove to me that you can be good, baby. Okay?”

“Yes, yes Sannie!” You lift your hips just enough for him to align his tip with your entrance, almost starting to cry again at the feeling. He helps you sink, knowing that two fingers weren’t enough for you. It never is. No matter how much he fucks you, it’s always a tight fit for you, not that you ever complain. You never complain about how big San is compared to you. He’s caught you drooling over this size of his dick more times than he can count, usually trying to talk you out of riding him out of fear of hurting you. But not today. No, today he’s giving you exactly what you wanted.

“Go ahead, sweetheart.” He encourages. “Fuck yourself dumb on Sannie’s cock.”

The look in your eyes becomes almost animalistic. You shift your body a bit, steadying your hands on his shoulders, and lift your hips until just his tip remains inside of you. San can feel the way you’re clenching around his tip, knows you’re doing it intentionally, and he lets his head fall back.

When you sink intohim for the first time, you emit a strangled gasp, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your nails digging into your lover’s shoulders.

“F—Fuck Sannie!” You bite down on your lip, lifting your hips again and dropping back down. “Mmph—fuck you’re too big!”

“You wanted this, sweetheart,” San tells you, rolling his head to the side and groaning as you continue to struggle with riding him. You try so, so hard to build a steady rhythm, but your legs are shaking and your breath is already gone. “I thought cheerleaders were supposed to have good stamina.”

“No—Not when their boyfriend has a f—fucking huge dick!” You cry out, giving up and grinding your hips against his. The steady rolling of your hips relieves the burn just a bit, and you moan as the tip of his cock grinds into that spot with more strength than his fingers did just minutes ago. “Fuck, I can fe—feel you in my stomach!”

San lifts his head at that, a new hunger in his eyes and he leans you back. You slow your hips at the sudden movement, furrowing your brows while you watch him. He kisses his teeth and places a firm slap on the side of your hip.

“I didn’t tell you to stop, did I?” He grips your hip tightly in both hands, forcing you to keep riding him. “Keep going, sweetheart. Keep going until I tell you to stop.”

You do, your hips picking up a steady pace with the help of one of his hands to guide you along. His other hand presses against your stomach, and you hear his breathing hitch.

“Baby,” he takes your hand from his shoulder, squeezing it gently as he guides it to where his hand was previously. “Feel right here.”

You hesitate just a moment, and he looks down at you, smiling encouragingly.

Then you feel it.

The bulge in your stomach where the tip of his cock reaches as far as it can possibly go.

“You feel that, baby?” San presses your hand down and you both let out a simultaneous moan at the feeling. The white-hot pleasure builds back up in the pit of your stomach, the loosened knot returning with renewed fervor and you know San can tell. You know that he’s close too, his hips thrusting up to meet yours halfway. “God, you feel so good. How did I get so fucking lucky, huh?”

You don’t respond. You can’t respond. The pleasure is blinding. All you can feel, see, hear, and smell is San. He clouds your thoughts, your senses, your very being. The pleasure is winding up, drawing that knot tighter and tighter and tighter—

“C—Cumming, San!” You arch into him, and he holds your hip to keep you moving. “Fuck, fuck I’m cumming!”

“I know, pretty girl,” he grunts, his thrusts stuttering. “Fuck, I’m close. Keep going baby, wanna cum with you.”

Your hips are moving slower, your muscles burning and you can’t stop yourself from forcing San back until he’s laying against the bed. Your hands find purchase on his chest, sweat beading on your forehead with the effort to keep moving, to keep riding him until you’re both forced over the edge you’d been begging for.

San’s thumb drifts across your hip, finding purchase on your swollen clit and rubbing sloppy circles into it until you’re sobbing again, sobbing his name and begging for that sweet release.

When it hits you, it’s blinding. Stars spark behind your eyes, your head tossed back and sweet cries pulled from the depths of your chest. His hips thrust into yours one more time, his eyes trained on how you arch your back and twitch with your release, and then he’s cumming. Thick globs of cum fill you up to the brim, seeping out from the seams of your cunt and mixing with your release. You let yourself collapse against his chest, practically gasping for air and shaking from the effort of riding him.

“You finally got what you wanted,” San murmurs, resting one of his hands on the small of your back as his cock softens in you. “You finally got to ride me.”

“Never…never doing that again,” you mutter back, placing a kiss on the base of his neck. “Absolutely…not.”

“I can’t believe you’re actually letting this happen.” San is grinning ear to ear as he drives you to campus, his free hand holding yours tightly. You purse your lips, refusing to admit defeat.

“This doesn’t mean I want everyone knowing—”

“Bullshit,” San interrupts with a grin. “You want everyone to know that I bagged the hottest cheerleader in the world.”

“You didn’t bag shit, Choi San. And if you say that you ‘bagged’ me to anyone on the football team,” your eyes turn to daggers as you jab a finger into his shoulder, “I will end your bloodline where it stands. Your mom can say ‘bye’ to any chances of a grandchild from us.”

San grimaces, but it’s replaced by a radiant smile as he pulls into the parking garage closest to your building. “You can make as many threats as you want, sweetheart, but you and I both know you won’t risk that. You love getting fucked after dealing with Yewon every day.”

He opens your door for you, beaming as he helps you out of his car.

“I’ll make you a deal, sweetheart.”

“Will you now?” Your response is sarcastic but San ignores it.

“You let me show you off as much as I want, and I bitch out Yewon today.”

You don’t even have to think about your response, a grin replacing your scowl.

“That sounds like a damn good deal, Choi San.”

“Sannie!”

Yewon’s grating voice has never sounded so fucking heavenly in your ears, knowing exactly what’s going to happen next. San is already at your side, rifling through your bag for the extra granola bar he knows you have. He grimaces at the sound, his eyes almost begging you to help him, but you shake your head.

“You dug your own grave, Sannie.” A quick pat on his shoulder and his fate is decided for him.

“Yewon,” he greets the girl, continuing to rifle through the bag. “Can I help you?”

The disinterest in his voice didn’t deter her, not that anyone was surprised. The cheer squad watched the younger, newer, dumber member as she stumbled through her flirtations, complimenting him on things he didn’t need nor want to be complimented on while searching for a fucking granola bar.

“Yewon,” San finally interrupts the girl, rising with the snack in his hand and glaring down at her. “I don’t know if you can tell, but I’m not interested.”

The shock on her face made you smile. Maybe it was cruel. Maybe it was a bitch named Karma. Or, maybe, you were sick of the shitty stereotypes that you always seemed to fall victim to.

“But you—you always—”

“I was trying to make my girlfriend jealous of me, as shitty as that is,” San pinches the bridge of his nose and scoffs. “But I’ve already got myself a cheerleader, Kim Yewon. And she’s the best girlfriend I could ever ask for. Plus, she’s hot as fuck,” San grins at you, but you can only roll your eyes.

“I said no—”

“You said I couldn’t tell people I bagged you,” it takes him three steps to reach your side and grab your chin. “Not that I couldn’t call you the hottest cheerleader in the world. No offense, Sihyeon.”

“None taken,” your best friend waves her hand dismissively. “I’m just glad you two finally got your heads out of your asses.”

“Shut up, Sihyeon.” You scowl, but San is quick to bend down, hunching at the shoulders to reach your height and kiss you firmly on the mouth. It’s a searing kiss, more than he said he would do in front of the squad, but you let him have his moment.

You’d made him wait long enough.

627 notes · View notes

krystalcat · 11 months ago

Text

whichever way [woosan x reader] pt11

pairing: woosan x f reader

rating: 18+

genre: smut, fluff, angst, neighbours au, FWB to QPR

ch. summary: San drops, but you and Wooyoung are here to catch him.

wc: 7.8k

ch. warnings for opening scene: dom drop, dirty talk, degradation kink & hair pulling (@ Wooyoung), dumbification (@ reader), pussy slap, anal & vaginal sex, angst, anxiety spiral abt hurting one’s partners

warnings for the rest of the chapter: hurt / comfort, sub San, soft dom duo Wooyoung & reader, somnophilia if you squint, sleepy morning sex, titty worship (@ San), hand / blowjob, orgasm denial, thigh riding, cum shot (chest @ San), cum eating / sharing, praise kink, San is called ‘good boy’

a/n: features a soft-bodied, aromantic reader who uses she/her pronouns. mention of stretch marks.

a/n²: barely proofread bc my brain is being a lil bratty bastard man abt editing

masterlist. 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14

“Can’t even fuck her right, can you Woo? Can’t do anything with that pussy without my help.”

Gently, San undoes the two handcuffs that bound each of Wooyoung’s wrists to yours. His eyes scan over Wooyoung’s skin for abrasions, but San struggles to pay his full care and attention to the task. His mind refuses to stay in the moment, instead rewinding the night’s events, over and over again like a broken tape-player. The images grow more distorted with every replay.

His muscles still burn from the force with which he’d rammed into Wooyoung from behind, who’d been on top of you. Every harsh slam of San’s hips had buried Wooyoung’s cock deeper into you, indirectly fucking you with his ruthless pace.

“You’re decent with that smart mouth, Woo, but we both know it’s my cock she likes better. Isn’t that so, baby?”

You had whined, too fucked out to answer.

“Aw look at her trying to spare your feelings. Sweet thing. Or maybe she’s just fucked too dumb to think. Any cock will do now, even yours.”

Had you really been too fucked out to answer? What if you had been too unwilling? Filled with guilt at the thought of picking one over the other — even if it was just for play, only to rile Wooyoung up.

San blinks, trying to get his vision focused. Sweat-matted hair clings to his forehead, unpleasantly sticky and prickling at his eyes. The fabric of his robe feels strangely scratchy against his skin, making it hard to concentrate while his thumbs press into your wrist, stimulating your blood-flow on pure auto-pilot.

“You like that, baby? Like it when I fuck you with Wooyoung’s cock? Much better than letting him fumble on his own. At least I know how to treat that tight cunt.”

Wooyoung had sobbed at the humiliation — they were the right kind of sobs, right? Wooyoung knows San didn’t mean it?

It had all felt good in the moment, but now doubt slithers into San’s memories, a dark chill creeping up his spine. Had he gone too far in degrading Wooyoung, crossing the line of cruel pleasure into simple cruelty? Had he made the wrong move by trying to rope you into his debasement of Wooyoung?

There’s a weird static in San’s ears. Vaguely he hears someone praising him, telling him he did so well; but the words can’t connect to him. They don’t fire off positive neurons in his brain, don’t bring the reassurance he so craves.

‘Did they really want it?’ a low insidious voice whispers to San instead. ‘What if they are just going along with what you pushed on them?’

San frowns. No; you and Wooyoung explicitly consented to all this beforehand. Neither of you are in the habit of neglecting your own safety in a misguided attempt to spare his feelings. You would have told him if anything felt bad. You are different from… from…

He shakes his head, trying to shake off the static. You and Wooyoung would have been honest, he stubbornly tells himself. That much he can trust on — right? Right? San’s frown deepens as he tries to look at you, his eyes shaky. You look so tired…

A cold void presses up against the inside of San’s ribcage, and he stiffens in sudden recognition, finally understanding what is happening to him.

No. Nonono. This can’t happen. Not right now. He can’t drop now. He has take care of you and Wooyoung first. You are his responsibility, not the other way around. It shouldn’t be the other way around. If he can’t even take care of his partners then—

“San? Are you okay?”

The question comes from far away. Again, he’s not sure who is asking it. San forces himself to smile. No, wait, he’s not smiling. Shit. Shit.

A beautiful soreness has settled in your body, lingering memories clinging to your muscles. You had a perfect view of the utter bliss stretched across Wooyoung’s face, tongue lolling out as San kept his head yanked back by the hair. Overwhelmed by San’s harsh pace and words, by fucking you while being fucked; yet always hungry for more, deliberately wiggling his ass when San told him to keep still, or shamelessly talking back at him.

You’re convinced that just the rough, haphazard thrusts of Wooyoung would have been enough to make you cum, more than enough when combined with the entrancing sight of him and San entangled; but it certainly didn’t hurt when San reached a hand around Wooyoung’s waist to thrum at your clit. He’d even smacked the oversensitive nub, with just enough force to send you straight into one of the most intense orgasms you’ve had in recent weeks.

You could happily stay submerged in those memories for hours to come, but the pleasant haze of the aftermath fades quickly when San massages your wrists — and you suddenly realise something is off.

He looks tired, which is not unusual after an intense session, but somehow it’s the wrong kind of tired. His eyes are unfocused, and although he’s taking perfect care of you, there is none of the usual warmth of his attentive glow. Like he is just going through the motions. San never just goes through the motions.

A dread sinks into your stomach as a grim suspicion flits through your mind.

“San? Are you okay?”

Wooyoung, who had been drinking some water, looks up before San even registers that you asked him something.

San’s brow furrows, the skin around his eyes tightening. He faintly shakes his head, and you can’t be sure if that’s meant to be an answer to your question or just an involuntary motion, but it’s an answer either way.

Your heart flinches.

“Woo?” you say, deliberately keeping your voice calm. San does not resist when you pull him into a back-hug, numbly letting himself get manoeuvred as you wrap your arms around him, holding him tightly against your chest. “I think San’s—”

“Yeah,” Wooyoung says, already by your side with a bottled electrolyte drink and an energy bar. “Hey, Sannie,” he murmurs gently, brushing San’s hair off his forehead. “What’s wrong? Too much today?”

San swallows thickly, looking strangely small in your arms. Tension pours out of his body — but it’s too fast, like he is emptying himself of everything, deflating in your embrace until only a hollow shell is left. There’s an odd, glassy shine to his eyes as he looks from you to Wooyoung.

“Are— are you okay?” San manages to ask weakly. “Are you hurt? Did— did I—?”

His uncertain voice pierces your chest, deep and sharp.

“No, we’re not hurt.” You plant a firm kiss on his limp shoulder, tightening your hold on him. “We’re fine, Sannie,” you murmur past the sudden lump in your throat, pressing another kiss on the side of his head. “No one is hurt, you made us feel so good.”

San lets out a pained whine, like he tries to shrink away from the positive affirmation.

“Hey, hey, listen,” Wooyoung says, gentle but firm, tipping up San’s chin so their eyes meet. “San, it was exactly what I wanted out of this. Are you hearing me? You did nothing we didn’t want.”

He is adamant in his reassurance, aimed at San’s deepest insecurity with pin-point precision, and San manages to take a deep breath.

“I— I hear you,” he says, giving a shaky nod.

Relief floods through you when Wooyoung’s words achieve what yours could not; along with a small twinge of something more complicated. You don’t linger on that twinge, centering your attention on San instead.

You help San to drink a few sips of water, and Wooyoung tears open the energy bar’s wrapper, breaking off a few bite-sized pieces.

Wooyoung keeps up his steady stream of reassurances, while you decide to focus on grounding San through physical touch. Better to let Wooyoung handle the talking on this one, clearly. One of your arms is wrapped securely around San’s narrow waist, freeing up your other hand to gently caress over the slight trembles running through his body.

You’ve never seen San go through dom drop this hard, this fast. He’s had to shake off a light funk, and you do vividly remember the one time San came by your place a whole day afterwards, a belated response to the scene. He’d been clingy and despondent, wanting to hold you and be held; and you had done exactly that, much like you are holding him now.

Together, you and Wooyoung weave a bright, warm protective bubble around San, nursing the bruises of his fall. His deflated spirit is slowly replenished with your caring attentions, helped along by the energy bar and electrolytes. Soon there is only a crumpled wrapper and an empty bottle left, but you and Wooyoung are still there.

Still protecting him from himself.

Finally San settles into your hold, eyes fluttering shut with a sigh when your nails gently scrape over his scalp.

“That’s it, rest up,” Wooyoung says with a soft smile and an even softer shine in his eyes. “We got you. Feeling a little better?”

San nods sluggishly, exhaustion radiating from his every pore as he sinks a little deeper into you.

Wooyoung chuckles as he watches San curl up against you, and rubs an affectionate hand over San’s thigh. “But not back completely, are you? Hmm, what do you need?” He taps his bottom lip in thought, the question more to himself than to San; then an idea brightens up his eyes. “How about I make you some proper food, get something warm in that stomach? Sound good?”

San makes a vaguely ‘yes’-shaped noise, tiredly smiling up at Wooyoung.

“Alright, then I’ll handle that, okay Sannie? Just means I got to step into the kitchen for a minute, but you won’t be alone.” Wooyoung’s eyes flicker up to you, giving you a quick wink. “I am leaving you in very capable hands. Give you two a chance to chat, hm?”

Before you even get the chance to offer whipping up a meal instead (after all, Wooyoung is the resident expert at helping San through a drop, not you), Wooyoung is on his feet and pulling on some clothes.

“I’ll leave the door open, alright? Just give a shout if you need me, I’ll be back like that,” he says, snapping his fingers. Wooyoung leans in to give San a last kiss on the cheek, sweet with a tint of playfulness, then steps away out of the bedroom.

It’s just you and San now.

You take in a deep breath and then release it, squeezing your arms a little tighter around San. “Look at you, getting a home-made meal out of this. Lucky guy,” you try to joke, poking his cheek.

San’s shoulders shake lightly with a quiet laugh. “Seriously, the lengths I have to go to to get fed properly around here,” he sighs, looking up at you with an exaggerated pout. But San can’t hold on to the lighthearted moment, his pout fading into a pained wince. “Sorry about all this. Never meant to cause trouble.”

“San, don’t you dare apologise!” you gently scold him. “We look after each other around here. What’d you do if it was me or Wooyoung?”

“…I’d look after you.”

“Yeah you would. You always do,” you press on. “And you wouldn’t let us call it ‘trouble’ either.”

“No, I wouldn’t,” San sighs, admitting defeat. “No apologies.”

But knowing he doesn’t have to be sorry, and actually not feeling sorry, are two very different beasts — and it’s pretty clear which one San’s dealing with. Something sharp pinches in your chest as you remember what San stammered out in distress.

“Are you hurt? Did— did I—?”

Is that still on his mind? Does he really think he could ever…?

“San, do you even—”

The words catch in your throat as you catch San’s eyes. They’re no longer hollowed out, but there is a vast ocean of emotion behind them — and San is in safe waters for now, but all it takes is one dangerous wave for him to be pulled under again.

You won’t let him. You won’t.

“San,” you say again, your voice steadier this time. It’s disquieting, how a man with such wide shoulders can look so small. “I always feel so safe with you, you know that?”

He nods, smiling faintly. “I know,” he says, but there is not enough conviction behind it to your liking.

“And do you also know,” you say with an exaggerated sigh, wrapping your legs around San’s waist, “how nervous I was when we had that first negotiation, back when we started this whole thing? It was just you and me, and I still felt so fucking embarrassed about barging in on you and Woo. I was this close to skipping town and starting my whole life over in a new country.”

San can’t help a chuckle. (You’re taking it as a victory.) “Knew you were nervous. Didn’t know it was that bad.”

“Oh yeah, it was that bad for sure,” you laugh breathily, patting San’s chest. “Only thing holding me back was that I couldn’t decide on a new identity. So many options!”

“What, that was the only thing?” San asks, and gives you a cheeky side-eye despite his exhaustion.

“Eh, maybe there was this pair of hotties that had something to do with it too,” you tease, dramatically rolling your eyes at San before you go serious again. “But that’s not the point. The point is… all of those nerves were gone by the time I walked out the door. Because of you.”

There is nothing cheeky about San’s gaze this time.

“You made me feel so at ease, like I could trust you with anything,” you say quietly, ignoring the prickle behind your eyes when San leans his head against your shoulder, nuzzling into you. “Like I’d always be safe with you, no matter what — and you’ve proven me right every damn day since then.”

A serene hush follows as San quietly takes hold of your words. He no longer looks adrift in the ocean, pulled along by a new current that carries him safely ashore.

It’s a comfortable silence — until a light mrrp comes from the doorway, announcing Byeol’s arrival.

“Hey look, reinforcements are here,” you joke while Byeol pads over to the foot of the bed. For a moment you only see the swish of her dark tail, then she hops onto the bed, sheets lightly scrunching underfoot as she makes a direct line towards San. A cat on a mission.

You untangle your legs from San’s waist to give Byeol a comfy spot to lie down in. San smiles softly as the Thai cat circles a few times in his lap, bumping her head against your hand before she settles in. Contently, she kneads biscuits into San’s robe, and starts purring loudly when he gently scritches at her exposed, fluffy tummy.

You sit like that for a while; with San patting Byeol while you idly run your fingers through his hair, like a little braid train of affection. It’s quiet, comfortable, minutes passing by unhurried until the silence is finally broken by San.

“…I think I’m alright now,” he says, his smile steady, and a shimmer in his eyes that isn’t underlined with distress. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Anytime, Sannie,” you say, resting your forehead against his temple. “Whatever you need, we got you.”

“Damn right we do,” a sudden voice says from the door opening.

You blink in surprise when you see Wooyoung leaned against the frame, watching you and San. He is slightly obscured by shadows in the dimmed bedroom, but his smile shines through brightly; how long has he been standing there?

“I always feel so safe with you, you know that?”

Wooyoung hadn’t meant to listen in. He’d just sidled up to the bedroom with Byeol in his arms, thinking to provide San some extra company. Then he caught a wisp of conversation, and thought it’d be better to hang back for a minute.

‘Hanging back’ isn’t usually Wooyoung’s style — and neither is leaving San’s side after a dom drop. But today, it just seemed like the right move. For San, and for you.

After all, Wooyoung hadn’t missed how quiet you went after San dropped.

It’s not that you weren’t taking good care of San; Wooyoung also hadn’t missed how you held onto him so tight he couldn’t slip out of reach if he tried. Soothing touches to keep San grounded in the room so he could hear the words Wooyoung was saying to him.

But San needed words from you too.

Wooyoung still isn’t sure why you took a backseat and let him take the lead; maybe you were shaken by seeing San like this — or maybe you were worried about saying the wrong thing? Well, Wooyoung definitely hadn’t worried about that. You’d find the words to say.

Now he quietly listens in as the words come to you, just like he’d known, with a dismantling sincerity against which San’s darker thoughts don’t stand a damn chance.

“—and you’ve proven me right every damn day since then.”

Wooyoung grins, giving himself a mental pat on the back for making the right call. He lowers Byeol to the ground and ushers her into the bedroom, then decides to give you and San just a moment longer.

He heads back into the kitchen to grab the little bowl of food he whipped up. Nothing grand or fancy, just some stir-fried kimchi with leftover rice, a quick fried egg on top.

Then Wooyoung finally slips inside the bedroom. He pauses at what he sees inside.

Fuck, he wishes he was holding a camera.

Something about the homely sight of you and San cuddled up with Byeol just looks… right.

San pats the Byeol with a calm, pensive expression. If Wooyoung knows anything about San, his mind is still lingering on the freshly imbued assurance from you and Wooyoung; that you never feel anything but safe and cared for with him. Gently he prods at the bauble of knowledge in his head, to make sure it doesn’t slip out of his grasp again.

It won’t — your hold on him is too secure for that.

You are sweetly playing with San’s hair, the strength of your devotion plainly written all over your face in bold all-caps letters. Wooyoung knows your affection for them is not romantically inclined, but god it’s so obvious that you care. You care so deeply.

As for the nature of his own inclinations, Wooyoung tries to not examine those too closely. It’s not like ‘conformity’ has defined a lot of his past relationships anyway. As far as he’s concerned, it’s more important how he acts on his wants and feelings, than how he labels them. And watching you and San together? He can hardly complain about how the three of you are acting on things now.

An unbidden smile curves around his lips at the soft intimacy on display, his stomach clenching oddly.

(It’s not jealousy, he tells himself.)

(Well. Maybe a little bit of jealousy, he quickly amends. Wooyoung is never one to pretend he does not want to be wanted.)

“…I think I’m alright now,” San says, and Wooyoung doesn’t realise he’d been lost in a daze until the words shake him out of it. “Thanks. For being here.”

“Anytime, Sannie,” you assure him, and Wooyoung warms at your smile. “Whatever you need, we got you.”

Ah, that seems like just the right opening. “Damn right we do,” Wooyoung says with a grin. “Got you some food, San. Want to come out, or eat it here?”

San perks up when he sees the bowl of food, but has no desire to get out of the bed yet; so you and San free up space for Wooyoung to join you instead. (His flinch of jealousy relaxes at this proof of want.)

Byeol is the only one who makes complaints, miffed at being ignored by San over a hot meal. But she is easily mollified when Wooyoung lifts her from San’s lap into his own, where his attentions soon have her purring contently again.

San makes an appreciative noise as he digs into the simple meal, his face scrunching up with every mouthful of food. While he empties out the bowl, you and Wooyoung catch each others’ eyes, exchanging a satisfied nod. San is alright now.

After the food is gone, San decides to take a cold shower, just for good measure to snap himself fully out of it. Wooyoung takes this opportunity to change the sheets, so he and San get to sleep with fresh linen tonight. You watch him with Byeol in your arms, taking your turn as kitty-custodian very seriously.

“Not gonna help me out here?” Wooyoung asks, giving you a massive side-eye just to be dramatic.

“I’m busy!” you counter, slightly raising Byeol up. “Hey, um.”

“Um?”

“I want to stay over tonight. Sleep here. If that’s alright with you and San.”

Wooyoung blinks at you in surprise, but quickly breaks out in a wide smile. That was about the last thing he expected you to say. “Yeah, of course!”

And so San and Wooyoung happily welcomed you into their bed — and not for a tumble between the sheets, for once.

It’s been a while since you last slept in the same bed with someone, let alone two someone’s, one of whom had pulled you into his firm chest, arms wrapped around you. (Bare arms. You had picked up some sleep clothes from home and Wooyoung has a comfy flannel pyjama set, but San apparently can’t sleep unless he’s wearing nothing but a pair of fitted boxers.)

You weren’t shocked to discover that San is a cuddler in bed; he’s prone to clinginess during the day, why would it be any different at night?

Tragically, the men’s company did not by some strange magic make this the best sleep you’ve had in years. As familiar as San’s bedroom is to you, as familiar as you are with the feel and scent of his and Wooyoung’s presence, you’re so unused to sharing your bedspace that instead of falling sound asleep, you drift in-and-out of a restless slumber.

No, you aren’t exactly convinced to make a regular habit out of this ‘staying overnight’ thing, but… for now? You really don’t care about any of that.

You’re not sure when you made the decision to sleep over; maybe it was two seconds before telling Wooyoung, maybe two seconds after you realised San was in trouble. You just know you want to be right next to San in the morning, so you can see with your own eyes if he is okay or if he needs anything. Your protective instinct is too strong to be thwarted by some mild discomfort.

The night passes, and finally you drift back into full consciousness with a faint beam of sunlight shining through a narrow slit in San’s blackout curtains. Shaking off your slumber, you faintly register that your face is pressed against two comfortable, firm pillows.

Ah wait. No. Not pillows.

San’s chest.

Well, same difference, really.

Somehow you’re more deeply entangled than you started out the night; San clings tightly onto you with a leg slung over your waist, and you can feel Wooyoung’s arms snaked around him in turn. There is a light pout on San’s face and he snores softly, his breath falling against the top of your head — which could have been endearing, if your mind hadn’t just cleared up enough to identify an out-of-place hardness pressed against your stomach.

Oh.

You hadn’t thought this far ahead, last night, but… yeah, makes sense.

Groggily you try to slip out of San’s arms without waking him, but you freeze up when he shifts and babbles something incoherent. His hold tightens on pure instinct; San is still knocked out in deep sleep.

For a moment you are caught in indecision, unsure what to do.

You’ve grown comfortable in your routines in this dynamic, but this lies outside those usual patterns. An old unease cranes its neck up at the break in routine; the worry that you trespassing on their relationship in a space that is not for you — but you firmly slap back those out-dated insecurities.

The reason why you’ve never been in this situation before is because of your boundaries, not theirs.

“Hey, are you getting up already?” a hoarse voice whispers from behind San when you shift to try and find a position where his dick doesn’t poke you right in the stomach. Wooyoung lifts his head, bleary dark eyes peeking up from above San’s slumbering figure. “We can sleep in, there’s no rush.”

“Not in a rush,” you whisper back. “San is just— um—”

“Ah.”

Judging by Wooyoung’s quick understanding, this must be a pretty common situation. His hand wanders down to brush over the crotch of San’s boxers, who sighs a moan even at the faint contact.

(The moan makes a compelling argument on why you might stay overnight more often after all.)

“So… the way I see it, we got two options,” Wooyoung murmurs, his voice thick with leftover sleep. “Either we rescue you from mister cuddle-monster’s grapple, or… we could wake Sannie up, see if he wants any help with that.”

His hand rests on San’s lower abdomen, not moving while he waits for your response.

You bite your lip, definitely not averse to lending San a hand, so to speak. “He’d be okay with that? With me too?”

“Only one way to find out,” Wooyoung says, giving you a languid grin, “but… let’s just say I have it on good authority that San will probably be more than okay.”

“‘Good authority’, huh?” you say, and a faint heat creeps under your skin at the implication they talked about this very scenario, about you. By now you’d think that they lost some of their ability to fluster you, but no, you don’t think you’ll ever build up a full immunity to the impact of San and Wooyoung. (You can’t really bring yourself to mind.) “Then… yeah.”

Wooyoung presses a kiss on the solid muscles of San’s shoulder, waking him with a few gentle nips of teeth.

“Nmhn, ‘Youngie?” San’s eyes flutter open, groggy and disoriented, but his confusion melts into a soft smile when he realises who he’s holding in his arms. “Hey. Good morning.”

“Good morning yourself,” you whisper. Even with everyone awake, somehow it still feels wrong to raise your voice too high in the darkened bedroom, with the faint chirrups of birds outside. “How’re you doing?”

San lets out a tired groan, shifting to stretch some of the sleep out of his body. But it’s not an unhappy groan, a distinctly feline curve to the edges of his smile. He turns his head to nuzzle at Wooyoung, while simultaneously pulling you back closer into him.

You can see the exact moment on San’s face where he wakes up enough to realise he’s pulled you right back against his half-hard boner.

“Shit, sorry—” he begins to stammer, but you gently shush him, pressing a finger to his lips.

“It’s okay, Sannie,” you assure him. “Seriously, it’s fine.”

(There is something weirdly adorable about a guy being so self-conscious about his morning wood when he’s had his dick inside your body’s horny trinity of holes more times than you care to count.)

“Actually,” Wooyoung chimes in, planting another kiss on San’s shoulder, “we were thinking…” His lips trail up San’s neck. “…how about we take care of that for you, hm?”

San draws in a shaky breath as Wooyoung palms his cock, putting light pressure on the crotch of his boxers. “Y-you already took care of me yesterday,” he protests, weakly. “You don’t have to—”

“We want to, San,” you say. “This isn’t out of obligation or anything.” You press a gentle kiss on his chest, then glance up to him. “So… what do you want?”

He swallows, his Adam’s apple bobbing in the dim light. “Yeah,” San says quietly. “Want to be taken care of.”

That’s all Wooyoung needs to hear.

San lets out a shuddery sigh, mouth falling slack as Wooyoung starts moving his hand with slow, languid strokes.

For a moment you just watch them, savouring the sight of San, the biggest people pleaser you know, being pleased by Wooyoung. You always cherish these times, when the roles reverse and San lets himself go, lets go of responsibility and control. Reciprocating the trust you and Wooyoung always put in him.

“How’s that, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks, and there is also something equally worth savouring about the sight of him like this, doting and attentive to the person who so often attends to his every need. Wooyoung is greedy in bed, never shy about his many wants — but he is equally generous, giving all of himself to his partners.

“Hm, ‘s good…” San mumbles, wiggling lazily into Wooyoung’s chest.

You can’t keep your eyes off them, completely entranced by how San’s breaths slowly get heavier, soft moans blending into his exhales. His head lolls back against Wooyoung’s shoulder with a whine, exposing the tantalising column of his neck to you.

The magnetic pull of San’s bared throat is too strong to resist, the scattering of freckles there begging to be kissed.

San shudders as your lips gently press against the prominent mole just under his jaw. You take great care to lavish every speck on his star-clustered skin with attention, where you can feel his moans reverberate against your mouth.

Everything starts to melt together in the morning daze, bodies half-covered under the sheets as San rolls his hips into Wooyoung’s hand, gasping when you suck another kiss into his freckled neck. He holds your onto waist, more to steady himself than anything else, but his fingers dig in a little harder when you slowly move down to his chest.

San’s whines grow louder as your teeth graze against his nipple, flicking it with small kitten licks until you start to suck in earnest. His firm tits provide you with generous handfuls of meaty muscle, tensing under your palms as your hands squeeze at him.

Sometimes you’d almost forget just how incredibly sensitive San is, a fact often obscured by his complete control in the bedroom. Even the lightest touches are capable of driving him up the wall, and soon he’s writhing between you and Wooyoung, eyes squeezed shut in pleasure.

“Such a good boy you are for us,” Wooyoung coos at San, teasing him with a good-natured grin. “Want me to edge you? Would you like that, Sannie?”

San turns his head to look at Wooyoung; there’s a wet gleam in his eyes, but he nods eagerly. “Want it, yeah.”

Wooyoung lifts his hand up to his mouth, doing his best to be covert as he spits into his palm, like he does not want to disturb the softness of the moment with something as crude as a little extra lubrication. He then reaches back under the covers — where San sucks in a sharp breath as Wooyoung slides his hand underneath the waistband of San’s boxers.

San groans, unable to stay still with two pairs of hands roaming over his body, and two mouths exploring just as eagerly. Wooyoung has replaced your lips on San’s neck, mouthing at a reddened mark you left earlier, while you suck a wet trail between his pecs.

San mewls when you thumb at his nipples, giving them a light pinch. His body jerks, but there is still a clear purpose to the way he shifts one leg forward, pressing his thigh against your clothed crotch.

It’s an unmistakable invitation, one that you are keen to accept.

You slowly start to grind on San’s thick thigh, the double fabric layer of your panties and sleep shorts dragging against your clit. It’s little more but a light burn, not enough to get you off, but you appreciate it all the same.

“So sweet, our Sannie,” you giggle. (For real, the biggest people pleaser you know.) “We are supposed to take care of you, remember?”

He whines in protest, pressing his thigh harder into your cunt while simultaneously pushing his ass back against Wooyoung. Another obvious invitation.

“Aw, he just can’t help himself, can you San?” Wooyoung rasps with a wicked smile. “He likes to pretend he’s a big ol’ meanie, but he just doesn’t know what to do with himself if he’s not making us feel good.”

San whines again, in agreement this time, squirming between you and Wooyoung.

“Already making me feel so good,” you sigh, softly kissing San’s flushed sternum. “Just feel that, all from getting to take care of you.”

You pry his hand from your waist, pushing it down your shorts and panties to let him swipe at the wetness clinging to your folds. He groans throatily and immediately tries to hone in on your clit — but you tsk and yank him back.

“Nuh-uh, Sannie,” you chide him gently. “That’s not how things work today. Just be here with us, that’s all we need you to do.”

“Th-then— wanna feel— ngh p-please, wanna—” San’s voice is choked up, his touch clumsy as he hooks his thumb underneath the waistbands of your clothes and tries to tug them down. “F-fuck, please—”

His desperation sears hotly through you, refusing to be denied. You shimmy out of your clothes and kick them off, now naked from the bottom down. The motion drags the covers further downward — and now you can actually see the obscene bulge in San’s boxers as Wooyoung jerks him off, the outline of his fist moving at a steady pace.

San’s breath hitches with every stroke, his eyes gleaming with unshed tears. Still babbling pleas at you, his hands kneading at your sides as he shoves his thigh back between yours. He glances at Wooyoung too, arching his back in a not-subtle reminder of what he needs.

“Shh, don’t move, Sannie,” you shush him, running a hand through his mussed up hair. “Just let us use you, that’s all you have to do.”

“Do it, please, do it, hmgh, wanna feel you make a mess on me, wanna be good…” A thick tear escapes San’s lashes, streaking down his puffy cheek.

“Aw, so polite for such a dirty boy,” Wooyoung teases fondly. There is nothing but pure adoration in his eyes as he lightly rolls his hips forward. “Asking us so nicely to cum all over you. Who could ever say no to that, hm?”

You certainly couldn’t. And so you lift your leg just enough for San’s thigh to slide neatly in-between, allowing him to feel the wet heat of your cunt right against the beefy muscle.

San bites his lip to try (and fail) to stifle a high-pitched whine as your arousal smears over him with every drag of your hips. He groans petulantly when Wooyoung stops stroking him, but it’s only so Wooyoung can take off his own pyjama pants, and tugs down San’s boxers just enough for his cock to smack wetly against his stomach.

Then Wooyoung’s fingers are wrapped around San’s thick length again and his eyes flutter shut, face contorting in pleasure as he struggles to keep still between the two bodies rutting against him. Wooyoung breathes heavily, moving his hand faster as he grinds into San’s backside.

“That’s it, Sannie, just a little more,” Wooyoung says, his voice tightly wound. “You’re getting close, aren’t you?”

“Mhm, y-yeah.” San is rapidly losing his restraint, his trimmed nails digging into the soft flesh of your waist, fingers slotted over your stretch marks. Whiny moans stumble off his lips in freefall, his thigh clenching under your clit as heady arousal fills the early morning air.

Earlier, you didn’t think you were going to cum. You’re not even really trying now, despite San’s request; too focused on your worship of his body. Languidly, you rub your clit against his flexing muscle, so distracted by teasing his nipples and sucking at the swell of his cleavage that you fail to realise how close you are getting yourself. The coiling pressure creeps up on you — but like a gear locking into place, you stumble on just the right angle and you’re so drunk on pleasing San and he’s whimpering and heat lances through your cunt and oh god—

Right as you are tipping over, Wooyoung takes his hand off San’s cock, denying him the very rush that is flooding your senses. You spasm against San, his choked up sob feeding into your pleasure as fresh slick leaks onto his leg. The slide against his glistening thigh is so easy by now, and you breathlessly ride out your high in the company of San’s snivelled whines.

“Where do you want me, Sannie?” Wooyoung asks with hard, raspy gasps, not far off from his own release. “Here? On your tits? Mouth?”

San makes a strangled noise, shaking his head like he’s embarrassed to say it out loud, but eventually stammers, “T-tits.”

Immediately, Wooyoung pushes San onto his back and straddles his thighs — one glossy with your slick. A thin, bright beam of sunlight falls right across San’s face and chest, highlighting the beautiful flush of skin, beads of sweat gathering on his brow and sternum. There are tear-streaks on his face, and a wet smear on his stomach where the tip of his cock rests, oozing pre-cum.

With Wooyoung snugly sitting in his lap, letting out rapid, pitched breaths as he jerks himself off with purposeful strokes, San’s instincts to be helpful bubble up again. He reaches to touch Wooyoung — but you quickly intervene, pinning San’s wrists above his head. It’s startlingly effective; San instantly goes lax under your hold. He melts into the bed with a shuddered breath, like the thought of pushing back does not even occur to him.

(A good thing, because there’s no doubt on your mind that San could easily break free. Eyeing the width of his biceps, you swear he must’ve been spending more time at the gym lately.)

“Keep those hands right where they are, mister,” you order playfully, grinning at San. “No touching.”

San sulks at you, but the gleam in his eyes gives him away. He’s clearly eating this whole thing up; half turned on and half amused by how you and Wooyoung have taken control. “Fine,” he pouts cutely. “I’ll behave.”

“Good boy,” you purr, immediately testing San’s obedience by releasing his wrists to wrap your hand around his cock. San hisses in sensitivity as you tease your thumb at the leaking slit, but he stays in place as ordered.

“Fuck, that’s hot,” Wooyoung groans, drawing your attention back to him.

Like you, Wooyoung is only naked from the waist down. It looks a little silly, a little cute; domesticity dripping off him with his flannel pyjama top and sleep-mussed hair — all while he works himself up to a quick orgasm with the lewd squelches of his fist pumping his dick. Wooyoung bites his lip as he stares down at San, lying utterly pliant beneath him and just taking what you’re willing to give.

And what you give, is enough to get San whiny and squirming again, fighting not to buck into your hand; but not enough to let him cum before Wooyoung does.

Thankfully for him, Wooyoung does not need much longer.

Wooyoung leans forward, steadying himself with a hand on San’s hip. His breath comes out in sharp gasps, dark eyes transfixed on San’s heaving chest and the light bruises you’ve left scattered all over him. “S-so fucking good for us, Sannie,” he moans, a crack in his voice. “Ah, ‘m gonna— ah, fuck, ahh—”

His hips stutter as he grunts, nails digging into San’s waist to keep himself from doubling over as he shoots messy ropes of cum over San’s chest. Some reaching all the way up his neck, adding their white glisten to San’s flushed, sweaty skin. He hisses a curse that transforms into a low moan when you eagerly lap up a rivulet between his pecs, then follow a trail to his nipple.

Wooyoung pants heavily, his dark hair sticking to his face as he catches his breath. “Shit, you two…” he groans, watching how you leisurely mouth at San’s fevered skin, your hand still keeping a steady pace. “How about it, baby, shall we let Sannie have his turn now?”

San bites down a whimper, his back arching as his fingers dig into the mattress.

You hum in agreement and move your hand a little quicker. In contrast, you slowly work your way up San’s neck, pressing a few light kisses up his chin until you reach the corner of his mouth.

San knows exactly what you are offering him — and he greedily accepts, tilting his head to meet your lips full-on. He groans as you suck his tongue into your mouth, sharing his seed between you. The combination of cum and faint morning breath is not the most pleasant, but kissing San is always sweet regardless of taste.

Meanwhile, Wooyoung lends a helping hand (or rather, a mouth) by sliding down the bed and wrap his lips around San’s cockhead. He works his jaw with thick sweeps of his tongue, just tending to the tip while you handle the rest of San’s thick length.

You consume his every muffled curse, every strangled whine, until San is trembling, so lost in pleasure he no longer has the presence of mind to respond to your kiss. You suckle on his bottom lip and reach your hand further down to cup San’s balls and squeeze gently, unable to help a moan of your own when San lets out a broken sob at the touch.

“W-Woo— Wooyoung— I-I— Fuck—”

San tries to warn him — which Wooyoung only takes as an invitation to sink further down on his cock, throat bobbing as he swallows greedily.

Together you ease San through it, hands rubbing over his shivering body as he whines and convulses, bucking up into Wooyoung’s mouth, until all tension melts away. San relaxes into the bed, rendered boneless as he catches his breath. There is a dopey, tired smile on San’s face, and finally he reaches for you and Wooyoung, pulling you into his broad chest as he slowly recovers, perfectly content.

This time, it’s you who is changing the sheets.

“So, how was it? Sleeping over?” San asks when he walks back into the bedroom after freshening up. He looks none the worse for wear after yesterday’s ordeal, a renewed lightness to his shoulders as he towels off his damp hair.

You chuckle sheepishly. “Honestly? The sleeping part was kind of terrible,” you admit. “Nothing personal! Just not great with sharing blankets. But the waking up… Yeah, the waking up part was pretty damn amazing. And that is personal.”

“Knew it. You hear that Sannie? She’s only using us for sex,” Wooyoung jokes, pinching your side as he walks past behind you to grab his phone from the nightstand.

“Don’t think so lowly of yourself, Woo,” you huff. “I also use you for your cooking.”

“What about me?” San asks, giving you a playful pout. “Just sex then?”

You finish yanking off the sheets and gather it together into a bundle, then stand up straight, tapping your lip in thought. “Hmm…” you say, giving San a scrutinising look-over. “Hugs. You give good hugs.”

San brightens like the sun breaking through cloudcover, delighted at your ‘use’ for him. He immediately ambushes you from behind, arms wrapping tightly around your waist as he rubs his chin against your shoulder.

“Aish! Seriously?” Wooyoung complaints, and you yelp when he pinches your side a little harder this time around.

“You started it, you idiot,” you laugh, gently untangling yourself from San. You hand him the bundle of sheets, dirtied with sweat and slick, and grab a fresh set.

San sulks at the bed linen in his arms. “Can’t believe we had to change to change sheets again,” he grouses. “I have so much more laundry with you two around, it’s ridiculous.”

Wooyoung just snorts. “What are you talking about? Don’t try to put this on us, you’re the one who doesn’t believe in laying down a towel.”

“Don’t like the feel of them,” San mumbles through pursed lips. “Besides, those dang things always seem to shift out of place at the worst moment anyway. What’s the point, except even more laundry?”

You shake your head at his complaints, but it’s pure affection. Meanwhile, Wooyoung sidles up behind San and takes his turn hugging him. “I could help out more, you know. Move in, share the load. The laundry load.”

San blinks in surprise, turning his head to look at Wooyoung, while you look up curiously, pausing your task of wrangling sheets around the corner of the mattress. Is Wooyoung serious, or is this just his usual messing around?

But judging by his calm expression, Wooyoung is one hundred percent serious. He sways back and forth on the balls of his feet, rocking San in his hug — but his eyes are completely focused, watching for San’s reaction.

“I mean… you practically live here already,” San says, reaching back his arms to hold onto Wooyoung’s hips, steady him a little. “We’d just be making it official, right?”

“Yeah! That’s what I wanna do, make it official,” Wooyoung says, then catches you off-guard by turning to you. “How about it? How do you feel about getting me as your official neighbour?”

You let out an abashed laugh, already self-conscious to be in the room for this conversation between them, let alone involved. “Why are you asking me? I’m not the one you’re moving in with!”

Wooyoung shrugs. “Just felt right to check in,” he says, so matter-of-factly that the lump of awkwardness in your chest softens. He’s not treating your input on the matter like a laugh; and for a moment, you find yourself at a loss for how to respond. To be considered in a big life choice like this — a relationship choice — is not something that’s ever happened to you before.

A jumble of feelings bounces around in your chest; but they’re led at the helm by happiness, and a wide, giddy smile has curved around your lips before you even realise it’s happening.

Warmth bursts through your veins as you nod at San and Wooyoung, who’re both smiling back at you. “Yeah,” you say, feeling oddly shy. “I’d love to have you here, officially. Welcome home, Woo.”

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