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#yunho oneshots
gummygowon · 10 months
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yellow | jeong yunho
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word count: 428
request: hii! i would like to participate in the colour-request-fest :] i choose yunho, yellow and angst with fluff (i’d like it to be really angsty). congrats on 500 followers, you’re an amazing writer!! <3
warnings: past relationships, reader has not moved on sdsadfsad
author's note: thank you so much for requesting! i hope i included enough fluff for u sjsjsjs
there was a nice subtle breeze in the park that reminded you of the times you would come here with yunho. the weather was usually like this, the bright yellow sun out, green grass growing and the blue sky vibrant as ever. you promised yourself you would stop moping around about the breakup that was almost a year ago but there were times where it just too much.
like today, you needed fresh air and of course, you subconsciously went to the park where you would always go with your ex, yunho. he actually showed you this hidden park that was tucked away on the edge of the city. it was beautiful in the day time but even more enchanting at night.
everything just reminded you of him.
everywhere you looked memories would pop up like the time you chased yunho around the park after he smeared cake on you during your first year anniversary. or the time you would just die of laughter sitting on the park benches. fuck, everything was just a constant reminder of how you guys didn't work out.
what if yunho comes here?
what would you do?
would you awkwardly say hi? make small talk again and maybe even catch up over boba? or would you just cry and run away? no even worse, what if he was here with another person, like date date. wait has he been talking to someone?
you couldn't even check on social media because your best friend made you block him claiming it was for "your own good". but what did they know? (they knew more than you think)
fuck, you really just missed laughing in yunho's arms until your sides hurt. you missed just being in his warm embrace after a long day. if he was a color he would be your yellow. fucking hell this was pathetic of you to be so hung up over a guy almost a year later.
a famillar laugh erupted in the distance behind you. not even caring if you were obvious, you whipped your head to see who the voice belonged to and fucking hell were you going to jump into that damn lake.
of fucking course he would be here and with another fucking girl.
anger took over your body as you saw your yellow become someone else's yellow. laughing and giggling as they stumbled down the gravel paths in the park.
you took a deep breath.
it's time to grow and heal and move on. he's moved on and so can you.
it's time.
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woobly · 2 years
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CAUGHT IN HIS TRAP, AGAIN . . . 정윤호 !
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PAIRING. ex-husband! yunho x wedding fashion designer! fem! reader GENRE. exes to lovers, parent au, designer au, fluff WARNINGS. quick mention of unplanned pregnancy, slightly aged-up! ateez, some dialogue taken from the movie this is inspired from, not edited ☠️, i'm not too familiar w the exes getting back tgt thing so this might be unrealistic idk, lmk if i missed anything ! WORD COUNT. 3.3k
𓂋˚˖ SYNOPSIS. your daughter had just returned from summer camp, and surprises were suddenly popping up left and right. the last thing you expected was seeing your ex-husband enter your own studio with another woman.
𓂋˚˖ A/N. i loved writing this one bc it's based on a movie i've watched countless times and know even the dialogue by heart. pls don’t worry about spoilers because the plot is slightly different! if anything, only minor details are the same, but none that could spoil the original movie :] (if you’re not sure what the movie inspo is about, here’s the imdb!)
𓂋˚˖ EVENT. for @kflixnet's childhood memories event! this fic is based on the 1998 remake of The Parent Trap &lt;3
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ELEVEN, ALMOST 12 YEARS.
Eleven, almost 12 years since two beautiful twin daughters blessed you and him. Your relationship with him moved so quickly that you didn’t even realize you were already having kids not even two years after you first met him. Although you weren’t exactly planning on forming a family yet at the time, given you were both hardly even adults, you tried your best to care for your children all the same. 
Eleven years since your life unexpectedly turned on its head and changed for what you thought at the time was for the worse. Getting married and settling down as a family, you thought things would finally fall into place, but other things just kept coming up, fights kept breaking out, and you both eventually knew what was coming. Of course, no one blamed the girls for anything; they were only two identical babies who understood nothing of the world.
Eleven years since you last saw him and your daughter Jinhee. You were living with him in California at the time, but you packed your things and moved back to your father’s home in London with your other daughter Sohee. It was difficult watching him carry your other child as the taxi that was taking you and Sohee to the airport drove farther and farther away from them. It was even more difficult, at first, trying to raise a daughter who was hardly even a year old on your own, but you could only imagine how he would be doing on his own.
Eleven years of looking back at the short period of time you spent together, but you would never admit out loud that he had actually been crossing your mind once in a while. It was difficult not to do so, especially when there was a living, walking proof of your failed marriage. It didn’t help either that you kept only one picture of him (until Sohee caught you looking at it and took it for herself a few months ago)—a picture torn up in the middle of you and him on your wedding night. You kept his side of the photo, but you could only wonder if he kept yours. Wonder if he looks at the picture once in a while like you do. If he looks at it and thinks about how things could have been different like you do. If he blames you for whatever went wrong all those years ago. Because you don’t. How could you? All you both did was try, but apparently, that wasn’t enough.
Now, eleven almost 12 years later, you have finally become the fashion designer you had always dreamt of becoming. You mostly made wedding dresses, but you’ve also tried your hand at tuxedos, which didn’t really work out for the most part. Most of your friends found it ironic that a divorced woman loved to design wedding gowns, but you always laughed it off, saying that having lost in romance shouldn’t hinder you from becoming the designer you always wanted to be. You were just grateful for how life turned out after all these years, and especially for your daughter Sohee.
“Madam, your secretary is on the phone,” your butler announced as he entered the dining room with a bottle of wine, refilling your father’s glass.
“Oh thank you, Martin,” Before leaving the table, you took the piece of tissue that your daughter handed you with a smile.
“Hi, Eleanor! Is there something wrong?”
“Good morning, ma’am! No, there's nothing wrong! But I forgot to tell you that the client arriving from the States personally requested that you be present during their fitting today,” your secretary sheepishly chuckled from the other side of the telephone line.
You looked back towards the dining table to see your daughter already looking at you. She had just come back from a two-month summer camp, and all you wanted was to spend as much time with her as you could before she goes back to school. “Did they mention what time they will be arriving?”
“Around 3 in the afternoon, ma’am,”
You sighed defeatedly. What’s a few hours lost to work, right? “Alright, I’ll be there. Thank you, Ellie,”
“Are you leaving for work today, mum?” Sohee asked from her seat as she held a white bunny plushie on her lap, which she claimed belonged to a friend she met at camp and accidentally ended up in her suitcase.
“A client wants me there at two,” you sat down and returned to your lunch, looking at your daughter in front of you apologetically. “I’m sorry darling. We can watch that movie when I come back,”
“Or I can come with you!” Sohee and your father quickly glanced at each other, but it went unnoticed by you.
“To the studio?”
“Yeah, I haven’t been there ye– in a while,” she smiled expectantly, and you gave in.
“You wanna come too, dad?” Sohee’s and your father’s eyes widened, thinking you must’ve noticed that there was something they weren’t telling you, but you only laugh at their reaction.
Since the studio was only a couple blocks from your home, you and your daughter decided to walk the way there. You’ve done this a few times with her in the past—crossing the busy streets, passing by that Harrods store that you both so loved to shop at. What caught you off guard today was the types of questions she was throwing at you.
“Doesn’t designing wedding gowns ever make you think about getting married again? Or at least make you think about the F-word?”
You paused in your tracks, stopping Sohee as well. “What F-word?”
“My father!”
Laughing at yourself for thinking she would have meant anything else aside from that, you continued your walk to the studio. “Oh that F-word! Well, no actually because I didn’t even wear a wedding gown when I married the F-word,”
“You didn’t? Why not?”
“Why the sudden interest in your dad, huh?” You smiled at your daughter because ever since she arrived back from camp, she has never failed to surprise you, and getting a haircut and pierced ears are only a few of them.
“Well, maybe because he’s never mentioned, and you can’t blame a kid for wondering! Mother, you can’t avoid the subject forever—at least tell me what he was like!” Sohee gave you the classic puppy eyes, and again, you only gave in.
“Okay. He was quite lovely, to tell you the truth. When we met, he was—actually, entirely lovely. Alright?”
“Is that all?” your daughter chuckled and looked up at you teasingly, pushing you to say something a little more than just lovely.
“Well, I guess he was tall, handsome. Girls definitely fell head over heels for him the very moment he merely passed by them,” you sighed as nostalgia slowly kicks in. “We used to live in America, you know,”
“No kidding! So, was it love at first sight?”
You gasped at how curious Sohee was being and slightly pulled her to a running pace as raindrops started to fall. “I knew you were going to ask me these questions one day!”
Once you and your daughter are finally under the shade in front of your studio, it was her turn to gasp at the wedding dress on display.
“Wow, that’s incredible! You designed that?”
“Well, I had to do something while you were at camp,” you turned her around to face the glass doors and enter. “Come on, let’s go inside before the client arrives,”
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“Are we there yet?”
“I don’t think so, kiddo. Just wait a bit more,”
Jinhee wasn’t actually asking where they were—in fact, she immediately recognized the Harrods store that their taxi just passed by—because she wasn’t actually Jinhee. 
She was more than nervous, and unfortunately for her, it was written all over her body. She knew what was going to happen today, and she also knew that it could only go one of two ways. Of course, she was hoping that the plan would go smoothly, as did her twin sister, who was already waiting at the studio.
Sensing her nervousness, the woman beside her took her fidgeting hand from her lap. “What’s wrong, honey?”
Jinhee turned to face Yeseul, a woman in her mid-20s, who was already looking at her curiously. “Nothing! Why, do I look like there’s something wrong?”
Her father turned around from the front passenger seat to look at his daughter. “You do. Is there something bothering you?”
“I uh,” Jinhee faced the window again, in hopes to finally seeing the studio but to no avail. “I’m not sure. The weather, I suppose,”
“That’s true. It’s a shame it’s raining on such a special occasion,” Mingi, one of Jinhee’s uncles, spoke up from the other side of the back seat.
“But that shouldn’t ruin anything, don’t you think? We are still doing the fitting, and with such beautiful gowns at that. Jinhee, how did you know of this designer? I’ve heard her name only a few times from my friends, so I’m surprised to hear it from you,” Yeseul asked as she rubbed the back of the child’s hand.
“Well uhm, I met a friend at camp whose mother designed wedding gowns, and she said they’re pretty good! I heard that a princess from Greece bought one recently,”
“Really? I loved the designs I found online too. What’s truly a shame is that she’s underrated,”
As if on cue, the Y/L/N Designs logo finally came into view, and it gave Jinhee the sense of familiarity and comfort that she just needed.
Upon entering, Mingi immediately asked one of the clerks for the restroom, and Jinhee took her distracted father and Yeseul as an opportunity to escape to the rooms at the back.
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“Madam, the client is here,” Your secretary announced as she entered your office where you and your daughter Sohee were chatting about her time at camp.
“Then, I won’t keep you any longer, Mother. I’ll just be around here,”
“Alright, I’ll just be quick. You won’t even notice I’m gone,” You stood up, cupped her face, and kissed her forehead before leaving her alone in your office.
You already knew that surprises have been coming your way ever since your daughter returned home. The surprise that you weren’t at all ready for however, was just about to shove itself in your face.
“Hi! Thank you for— Yu– what are you doing here?” Your smile quickly faded away the moment you see him. Again. For the first time after 12 years.
“Y/N? You— You’re the designer?” Unbeknownst to you, he was also familiar with the string of surprises that his daughter brought him. But for him, seeing you once again had to be the most delightful yet and cannot possibly top the rest. Not even the time Jinhee—or who he thought was Jinhee anyway—started yelling at him in French.
Snapping back into reality upon seeing the curious face of the woman who you assumed was the client, your smile appeared once again, albeit not as wide as it was two seconds ago.
“Yes, hi. Thank you for taking an interest in my designs! I hope you’ll be able to find a gown that is to your liking,”
You didn’t want to take another look at him, refusing to believe that he was here in your studio at this very moment. And with whom? It would be wrong of you to assume anything, but how could you not when you’re all standing in an establishment that had a very obvious theme of marriage? 
You didn’t want to take another look at him, but your eyes betrayed you anyway. And you were caught off guard by the way he was already staring at you just like he did the first time he saw you all those years ago.
“Oh, I think I’ll definitely find one that I like. But if you don’t mind me asking … do you two know each other?” Yeseul stood awkwardly between the two of you, looking back and forth like she was watching a tennis game.
Not wanting to prolong the tension any longer, you scramble your brain for any excuse to leave. “Yes, but you don’t have to worry about us, ma’am. I’m just going to get some things in my office. Please take your time looking around,”
You smiled, and once again, you tried not to look up at him but ended up doing so before turning towards your office. He watched you leave and chuckled once he realized what you had just implied.
“Did she just assume we were getting married?”
“That, she did. And to answer your question, she’s my ex-wife,”
“Ex-wife?” Mingi, who had just finished his business with the restroom, had finally returned. “As in Y/N? She’s here?!”
“She’s the designer,” His smile never left his face as he looked around in search of his daughter Jinhee, wondering how she knew if she knew.
“You serious?! And what, you’re just gonna stand around again?”
He immediately turned toward his friend and frowned. “You didn’t see her reaction to my presence, but she didn’t look too happy seeing me here,”
“Maybe that’s because she thought you’re the one who’s getting married. And don’t give me the ‘she probably needs space’ talk because if you ask me, I think 10 years is more than enough time and space. You didn’t entirely end up on bad terms anyway, so I’d be more surprised if she was still upset like your last fight just happened yesterday,”
“I don’t know what happened, but I think he’s right,” He turned towards Yeseul, who was agreeing with her fiance Mingi despite just learning of the existence of his friend’s ex-wife.
But he knew they were right. He knew that you weren’t childish enough to still be upset after all these years. He knew that you couldn’t stay mad at him for so long. How could you? When all you and he did was try.
So he went after you, unlike the last time you left. Because not going after you was the only thing he truly regretted the last time he saw you and Sohee 11 years ago.
Your forehead was being held up by your hands as you blankly stared at your table, trying to process what had just happened and trying to think of what you’ll say when you go back. You half-wished that someone could be here with you to help you sort out your thoughts, but Sohee nor your secretary were nowhere to be found.
Your half-wish did come true, however the person who knocked was the last you were hoping to see.
“Hey,”
“Yunho, I uh,” You stood up the moment you saw who was at the door and looked around your office, just anywhere but him. “Aren’t you supposed to be looking at gowns with your fiance?”
He chuckled, and your head turned towards him with confusion. But it was quickly replaced with admiration, for you so missed the sound of his broken laughter and the way his smile always made his cheekbones more prominent.
“I’m not the one getting married. Mingi is. He was just in the restroom when you arrived,”
Your eyes widened at the information that was just given to you. To be ashamed is an understatement, but to be pleasantly surprised is something you will never admit.
“I’m sorry I immediately jumped to conclusions,”
“Again,” You chuckled with him this time because you both knew what he was talking about. But you were glad that it was something that you could both now look back to and not feel too upset or angry about.
“We’re sorry too,” Sohee and Jinhee had finally come out of their hiding place and entered your office.
“Sohee?”
“Jinhee?”
“Hi, Dad,” “Hi, Mum,” Your daughters smiled apologetically at the two of you, but at this rate, neither of you could tell who was who.
“What’s going on here?” Yunho thankfully spoke for you both as you were at a loss for words.
“I guess you and Mum kinda think alike because you both sent us to the same camp and—we met there, and the whole thing just sort of .. spilled out,”
“So Jinhee, you were here with me this whole time?”
“And I’ve had Sohee this entire time?”
“Well, I wanted to know what you were like, and Jinhee wanted to know Mum and—are you angry?”
“Honey, of course not. We just can’t believe it,” The twins moved to hug the parent that they had fooled, Sohee with Yunho and Jinhee with you, and all that was truly flowing through the four of you was nothing but love and comfort. “But how could you do this to me? To us?” You jokingly asked as you hugged the real Jinhee tighter.
After some time, Yunho spoke up once again. “Girls, why don’t you leave your mom and I to talk alone for a few minutes, okay?”
The twins teasingly mutter little ‘okays’ and ‘take your times’, giggling as they leave the two of you alone in your office. You took a seat on one of the chairs your clients usually sit on, and he took the seat across from you.
“So, how are you, y/n? Or does everyone call you Ms. y/l/n now?”
You chuckle at his attempt at striking up a conversation with you. “Well of course, my colleagues call me that, but my father still calls me y/n when he’s in a good mood,”
It was his turn to chuckle, and you smile once again.
Leaning forward in his seat, he studied your face and made sure he memorized every subtle wrinkle that appeared whenever you smiled. “You know, you haven’t changed a bit,”
He was staring at you again for the nth time today, but neither of you seemed to care. He couldn’t stop thinking about how you still looked the same as if you hadn’t aged and yet still look even more beautiful than the last time he saw you. On the other hand, you thought quite the same—that he still seemed to be the bright adventurous man whose smile could have anyone falling for him within milliseconds.
“You know, some time, if we’re ever really alone,” he spoke up again. “Maybe we could talk about … what happened between us. It all feels a bit hazy to me now. It ended so fast,”
You smiled, remembering some of the petty arguments you had, and then the very night when you first met him, before you looked into his eyes. “It .. started so fast,”
“Well, that I remember perfectly,” he teased, causing you both to chuckle.
However, as if the universe wasn’t allowing you to be left alone with the man in front of you, someone came knocking at the door. “Madam, the client is requesting your presence,”
You quickly stood up from your seat, but before you could leave again, Yunho gently grabbed your wrist. “Can we continue this over coffee later?”
“Dad, is that really the best you can do?” Jinhee appeared from behind the door. “To save you the trouble, we actually already have something prepared for you tonight,”
You looked at your daughter, shocked at how they’re always one step ahead of you both, and turned towards Yunho who was already staring at you expectantly.
But how could you turn him down? When the first time you left him at your once-shared home in California, you were actually waiting and hoping for him to come after you. Now that he was here again, just an arm’s length away, finally ready to maybe, hopefully, start all over with you, who were you to say no? Because just as how your daughters had tricked you into finding each other after all these years, you seemed to have fallen for his trap once again.
You know what they say, second time’s the charm, right?
© woobly, 2022. all rights reserved.
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thewonandonly · 2 years
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17:27 — met you at the right time, see you and i'm still excited, sitting in that shirt of mine, a little big but i like it, snacks in the late night | it's you by max (ft. keshi)
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yunho already gave off golden-retriever boyfriend energy, but never as much as when he saw you approaching the front door from the window. he would giggle like no tomorrow and open the door before you even knocked.
these were how the evening on weekends normally started: yunho would put on a movie that you both would watch, but not after he offers up some pajamas for you — which happened to be his giant t-shirt and giant sweatpants that bundled up at the bottom of your ankles and the shirt sitting around your thighs, nearly swallowing you whole. as the movie started, yunho would grab all the snacks he could from the pantry, even taking a few of the other members out of spite.
and you both would watch the movie, your legs pulled up to your chest as you munched on the snacks.
yunho always loved spending time with you, while you wear his clothes, eating all the snacks you both could while the hour to two hour movie played. and he honestly wouldn't pay too much attention.
he was too busy looking at you.
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copyright © 2022 the-wonandonly. all rights reserved.
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beenbaanbuun · 4 months
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best girl - yunho & mingi
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words - 8.8k
genre - smut/fluff/angst if you squint
warnings - sub!reader, dom!yunho, dom!switch!mingi, chubby!reader, insecure!reader, mentions of mxm, oral (f!recieving), brief anal play, no protection, fingering, big dick!yunho, brief exhibitionism, making out, spanking, biting, light degradation (if you squint), praise, pet names (pipsqueek, sugarplum, darling, baby, puppy, our girl, best girl, pretty girl, a lot of variations on the word girl) cum eating, finger sucking (mxm), aftercare, discussions of feelings, everyone is an idiot, mingi and yunho are hopelessly in love, reader is too
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You rolled your eyes and leaned over until your head was pressed against the damp wood of the table in the dark corner of the bar. They told you they were going to get drinks, Mingi pressing a quick kiss to your temple as he promised they’d be back in a minute. You checked your phone; it had been 15.
As you sat and watched them fawn over the girl in between them, you couldn’t help but feel resentment bubbling up inside of you. Resentment towards yourself for even agreeing to the night out, even though you desperately needed it. Resentment towards the gorgeous woman who was taking up all of your friends’ attention, disliking her despite her clearly deserving their attention more than you. Most importantly, though, resentment towards your friends; the two men who had looked at you with pity in their eyes when you showed up at their doorstep with tears in your eyes after yet another tinder date never showed up. It was their idea to come out and let your hair down a little and yet it was also them who had abandoned you to flirt with someone who was the antithesis of you.
Your eyes flashed over her body, causing your unwarranted hatred to flare up even more. Her green dress wasn’t too dissimilar to yours, except the way it clung to her body was tasteful and didn’t make her look the same way you felt you did. Her hair was scraped back into a high pony so elegantly that you were positive that she’d spent hours placing each individual hair in its exact position, whereas yours lay messily upon your shoulders. Her toned thighs were crossed, letting her dress ride up just the right amount so that she showed just enough for it it still be classed as ‘lady-like’, whatever the fuck that meant. You glanced down at your own thighs that had flattened against the leather of the booth you’d secluded yourself in. You poked one of them, making the flesh jiggle a little. You bet her legs didn’t jiggle like that…
You couldn’t even rip your eyes away from your legs as Yunho's comforting voice rang through your brain. “Looking at it like that won’t change anything,” he’d told you when he caught yourself staring at your body in his bedroom mirror one time, “in fact, nothing is going to change until you learn to love yourself for who you are. i’ve told you that a million times, pipsqueek, yet you never listen.” You remembered the way he wrapped his arms around you in a warm back hug before telling you just how much he loved how ‘soft’ you were.
He can’t have loved it that much if the girl he was chasing now looked like you but in a smaller size. You bet she wasn’t ‘soft’.
“Someone’s deep in thought,” a familiar deep voice said, stopping your spiral from going any further. You never took your eyes away from your thighs as he unceremoniously sat down on the plush seat beside you. You felt your stomach churn as the motion made the skin on your thighs ripple. “Something interesting down there?” He added as he leaned and followed your gaze.
The only thing that made you feel more sick than you seeing your thighs right now was Mingi seeing them. the way the skin was pulled taught, stretched and contorted as it tried to hold all of your flesh inside of it. Usually you wouldn’t mind but tonight?
Tonight you couldn’t bear it.
“Go back to your little girlfriend over there,” you muttered as you pulled your dress further down your legs to hide your shame, “I'm fine on my own.”
Mingi made a sound of disagreement as he placed a large hand over your own, stopping you from gripping at your hemline like a Victorian woman trying to keep her decency. He leaned in close, dropping his head onto your shoulder like he so often had in the past. most of the time it was when he needed comfort, but right now you suspected that he knew it was the opposite.
“And leave you here to have a meltdown on your own?” he shook his head, his short, spiked-up hair tickling your neck, “no shot, sugarplum. I'm staying here until you tell me exactly why you were trying to make your thighs explode with your mind.
The joke would’ve usually gotten a laugh out of you, but your silence was just further confirmation that you were completely out of it. Mingi didn’t like that.
“Besides, she’s cool but she’s nothing compared to you, huh?” he poked your side with the hand he didn’t have laced with your own. Again, it was an action that should’ve had you giggling and playfully pushing him away, but all he was met with was yet another worrying silence.
Fuck, Mingi was bad at stuff like this. Always had been, really. Of course he was always there when you needed a shoulder to cry on, but that didn’t mean that he wasn’t secretly messaging Yunho behind your back for advice. The older of the two always knew what to say, whereas all Mingi ever had to offer was a pat on the head and a quiet mutter of ‘shh, it’ll be okay’. It was good enough to calm you down for a while, but Yunho was the one with the magic words that could pull you out of whatever headspace you’d found yourself in.
In fact, it was Yunho that had noticed you from the other side of the bar. The dim lights concealed your facial expression, but he didn’t need to see your face to know that you weren’t okay. Your sunken shoulders paired with your head that was hanging low did a good enough job of letting him know you needed them. Clearly, you were zoned out, which was never good, and Yunho couldn’t help but feel his heart stop for half a second when he saw you move your hand to harshly poke at something under the table.
Poor Mingi was mid-conversation with Jemma when Yunho thwacked his shoulder and gestured over to you with his head. The blonde’s words were cut short when he shifted his gaze over to where Yunho was looking, a worried pout forming on his plush lips. his eyes flickered between you and Yunho in a silent conversation, quietly deciding on the best course of action. Only seconds passed before Mingi was nodding and placing his glass down on the bar. He shot a quick wink at Jemma before taking a few steps towards you.
“See you another time,” he shouted over the music, “I think we left our girl on her own for too long.” He gestured at you before giving Jemma a look that was filled with nothing but sympathy for you. The woman simply nodded, sharing a pretty smile with him.
“Go make her feel loved, pretty boy,” she giggled, “you really shouldn’t be leaving such a gorgeous girl unattended, y’know!”
Mingi just laughed before spinning round and going to sit by your side.
Yunho didn’t keep the conversation with Jemma going, which she didn’t seem to mind. She watched him with a soft smile for a few seconds, taking note of the worry etched onto his expression as he stared you down from his seat. His jaw was tightly clenched, the muscles flexing every so often as he studied what was happening in front of him. When Jemma said goodbye, he barely even responded, simply nodding and wishing her a good night before returning full focus back to you.
You didn’t realise Yunho had seen the way you tried to pull your skirt down, only for Mingi to stop you, or the way you flinched when Mingi tried to cheer you up by tickling your side. It didn’t even cross your mind that he might have noticed the way you looked like you were about to throw up when Mingi threw his gangly arm around your middle to tug you closer to him. If you did, perhaps you would’ve made more of an effort to hide how you were feeling. Maybe if you did, there wouldn’t currently be a soft hand grazing against your chin, finally lifting your gaze up from where it rested upon your thighs.
It guided your eyes up until they landed on Yunho's face, jaw set in stone and eyes equal parts worried and upset. his fluffy brown hair rested gently upon his forehead, which you could tell was creased with concern despite it being hidden. You gulped as he held your gaze for what felt like hours, although it was probably only seconds, his hand never leaving your chin once.
“I think you’re ready to go,” he said firmly. there was no room to argue, although Yunho knew you too well to assume that you wouldn’t at least try and get a word in.
“What about your lady friend?” your voice was barely audible above the bass that was buzzing through the air, “aren’t you taking her home?”
Yunho shook his head.
“We’re taking you home, instead.”
Gentle patterns were traced along your jawline by his thumb, the appendage dancing along your soft skin in an attempt to distract your mind from whatever it was distracted by. It only partially worked. The other half of your brain was desperate to remind you that you did not, in fact, have a jawline to trace. Your face was just as ‘soft’ as the rest of you.
“You know what I mean, Yunho,” you mutter, finally breaking eye contact with him, eyes moving down to his chest. It was as low as they could go with his fingers still wrapped around your jaw. He simply squeezed tighter, giving your face a quick jolt, and your eyes were back on his.
“So do you, pipsqueek,” he leaned in close, not even breaking eye contact with you as he gestured for Mingi to stand up and grab your things. Your breath hitched as he shifted his hand slightly to let his finger play with your bottom lip. “Don’t think I don't know what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours. Clearly, someone hasn’t been listening to me all those times I told you you were beautiful.” He sighed, as though he was disappointed. “Guess we'll just have to prove it to you, hm?”
There was no reply from you, not that there needed to be. There really was nothing to be said this time. No room to bite back or cause trouble. Yunho clearly understood that you had nothing more to say, a smirk resting on his lips.
“Come on then, my gorgeous girl,” he whispered as he guided you up and out of the seat using nothing more than the grip he had on your face, “let me and Mingi take care of you, huh? Let us show you just how pretty we think you are. Because we really, really do… don’t we Mingi?”
“Of course, we do,” Mingi’s deep voice responded, his warm hand landing on the small of your back, “I don’t know about Yunho, but I think you’re the prettiest creature to walk this earth…”
Yunho finally let go of your jaw, letting you lift your hand to massage the sore muscles. Your delicate fingers prodded at your plush cheeks, which felt a thousand degrees hotter than what should’ve been normal, as you watched Yunho pull out his phone to order an Uber to their apartment. Somewhere that you frequented regularly, and yet for the first time like this.
That's when it really sunk in that tonight you weren’t just their best friend, but their girl of choice. Of course, you’d heard many tales about the girls they’d take back to their apartment and share between them. They’d carefully select them before buttering them up with their silver tongues until finally, they’d take her back to the ‘chad pad’, as Mingi had cheesily nicknamed it, and giving her the night of her life. Time after time you'd been told about their escapades, and time after time you wished someone would take care of you in a similar way.
Scenes played over in the back of your mind. Yunho teasing Mingi for his ‘love of being suffocated’, although you couldn’t quite work out what that meant. Mingi giggling as he jokingly scolded Yunho for being ‘too bossy’. You gulped nervously at the prospect.
But the longer you pondered your situation, the more you couldn’t help but feel bad for the other girl. They were clearly getting somewhere with her, yet they threw it all away in seconds, and for what? To comfort you? With Yunho’s eyes scanning you like you were a priceless diamond, and Mingi’s hand rubbing circles on your back, only to dip down and cop a feel every few seconds, you’d be stupid to think that was the only thing on their mind. Maybe they lost their chance with the pretty one when they left her so they could look after you. Maybe they just realised they were missing out so they were settling for second best.
Yeah, that must be it.
Second best…
“You’re thinking,” Mingi grumbled in your ear before placing a quick kiss to your cheek, “stop it.”
“I can't not think, mingi,” you muttered back. Although you were trying desperately to look anywhere but them, there was no way you could miss the way Yunho cocked a brow at you.
“Then think about all the things we’re going to make you feel when we get back to ours,” he said, bringing up a finger to tap at your forehead, “rather than thinking about whatever useless thing it is that has your face all screwed up like that.”
“It's not useless.”
“It must be if it has you as tense as this, sugarplum,” Mingi pressed a quick kiss to your head, as his hand gave a firm squeeze to your ass. It was a warning. “I know yunho has talked to you about not listening to your brain, so you’d better switch it off, okay? Whatever you’re telling yourself is wrong.”
You opened your mouth to argue, but a simple look from Yunho, and a light swat to the ass from Mingi shut you up.
“Good girl,” Yunho smiled at you. It was too sweet, too Yunho, for you to do anything but preen. Even without the tension that was rising between you, you’d always loved to be praised by him. “Uber's almost here, Mingi. Stop groping our girl before you can’t stop. I know how you get and I don't want to make yet another uber driver uncomfortable.”
You giggled at that, getting another soft smile from Yunho in return. It was nice. Familiar. It reminded you that even behind the bedroom eyes, your best friend was still there to keep you safe and happy. And although Mingi was behind you, barely managing to peel himself away from you, you knew he was the same old mingi too. The way that he smiled against your neck, just like he did when you were protecting him from your other friend, Wooyoung’s, bullying told you that much.
“You try tearing yourself away from our girl, Yunho,” Mingi gave your ass another hard squeeze before letting his hand come down on it harshly. You gasped, squeezing your eyes shut as he began to massage it again. “Its so fucking difficult, dude.” Mingu pressed his face into your neck and inhaled your scent with a groan, “you smell like home, babe,” he kissed the soft skin, “fucking hell, i can’t believe we’ve waited this long.”
A big hand carded through your hair as Yunho moved it to give Mingi better access to your neck. His fingers gently massaged your scalp as Mingi practically made out with your neck. The slurping sounds he was making just below your ear were obscene, but it was offset by the familiarly loving look that Yunho was giving you.
“I know, mingi,” he said, never once breaking eye contact with you, “Too long if you ask me. Our girl doesn’t realise just how beautiful we think she is, huh? Well just you wait, darling. The moment we step through our front door, we’re going to make sure you never forget again.”
And with that, he tugged you away from Mingi, who let out the most pathetic whine you think you’d ever heard, and guided you to the exit where the car was waiting. You checked behind you to see if Mingi was following. He winked at you in return.
Once you’d reached the car, Yunho held the door open for you. “Ladies first,” he gestured for you to get in, to which you rolled your eyes before sliding onto the leather seats. You were about to scoot all the way across, expecting one of them to get in the front like usual, but Yunho just shook his head, “in the middle, darling. Leave some space for the rest of us, huh?”
He slid in himself, closing his door as the one to the other side of you opened. Mingi dropped into the car and shut the door himself, quickly making himself comfortable with a hand high up your thigh. Yunho gave a disapproving tut to him, before doing the exact same himself.
The way the warmth of their hands spread over your soft skin made your heart skip a beat. The gentle kneading of Mingi’s palm compared to the sturdy grasp of Yunho’s was enough to send your brain into a dizzy haze, only made worse when Mingi began to pull your thigh closer to his.
The cold aircon blasting out of the central fan hit the wet patch on your panties directly, forcing you to suck in a sharp breath. Yunho chuckled to the right of you, copying mingi and making your legs spread even wider. Your dress was pushed up by your thighs, now resting at the point where the fleshy limbs joined your hips. You prayed to anything that would listen that the driver wouldn’t look back and see you in this state; sat between your two best friends, legs spread wide open, white underwear almost made see through with your sticky desire. The thought alone had your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
“You okay, baby?” Mingi asked, shifting his hand so that his pinky was just barely brushing against your panties, “you don’t look so good.”
God you wanted to wipe that smirk off of his face.
“Yeah, pipsqueek,” Yunho added as he slipped your panties to the side, dipping the tip of his finger into the gooey mess that was currently your pussy. There was a moan on the tip of your tongue as his finger penetrated your hole, but he quickly removed it and let your panties fall back into place, “Wait, I think you have something on your lip. Hold on a second~”
Before you could register his words, a wet finger was tracing your bottom lip, smearing your own juices across your mouth.
“That's funny, it looks like cream,” Mingi snickered, “lick it up, baby.”
You did as he said, pushing your tongue out and collecting your wetness from your bottom lip. You shuddered at the filth of it all.
“Does it taste sweet, darling?” Yunho fluttered his eyelashes, trying his hardest to resemble the picture of innocence.
“I bet it does,” Mingi replied, “bet it tastes so fucking delicious, huh? Wish i could just stick my face right in there, baby, slurp up all that cream that’s just… spilling out.”
You were thankful when the Uber swiftly came to a stop at the side of the road, practically bending over yunho yourself to grab at the handle. He chuckled, petting your hair with his still soiled fingers as he thanked the driver. Mingi said much of the same as he got out his own side and made his way round to yours. He watched with intense eyes as you stumbled onto the pavement, gripping onto Yunho for balance.
Your face made you look like a deer caught in headlights, and Yunho couldn’t help but lean down to steal a kiss. You were almost taken aback for a second, remembering how Yunho and Mingi would express that they didn’t like to kiss the women that they took home. “Too romantic,” Mingi had explained one time, “they come to us for a good time, not for the whole ‘love’ experience, y’know?” At the time you’d understood, just as you thought you’d understood what tonight was. As your best friend licked into your mouth, you realised that maybe you were mistaken.
You pushed at his chest, and he stopped within an instant. There were words on your tongue, but when you lay eyes on him, they disappeared. Flushed cheeks, plump lips and eyes that looked like they were 90% pupil. That's all it took for you to leap right in with both feet. Fuck it, you decided as you wrapped your arms around his neck, if love is what they want, then love is what they’d get. It's not like you hadn’t been shamefully dreaming about it for years. kissing them, holding them, fucking them.
Of course there was the part of your brain that told you to stop before you went head first into something you weren’t quite sure you understood.
You laughed against Yunho's mouth as you told the voice to shut up.
“What?” He mumbled, barely pulling away before going back in for more. It was a couple more seconds before you pulled away yourself.
“I just can’t believe I'm listening to mingi for once,” you replied. There was a scoff from behind you as the short haired main placed himself at your rear once more. A hot tongue licked a stripe up your neck.
“What's that supposed to mean, brat?” mingi nipped at your earlobe.
You gasped into the kiss, briefly pulling away once more.
“M’turning my brain off,” you giggle into the cold night air, “whatever happens, happens, right?”
You delved right back into the kiss, opening your mouth to allow Yunho's prying tongue acces. He explored your cavern, licking at everything he could reach before letting his tongue clash with yours. Your wet muscles tangled with one another, dancing an intricate jive between your lips, all whilst Mingi’s was tracing patterns upon your collarbones.
“But I know what’s going to happen, sugarplum,” he whispered against your skin, “we’re going to take you upstairs,” he bit into your shoulder making you squeal into the kiss you were still sharing with Yunho, “we’re going to make you feel every bit as beautiful as we know you are,” he sucked at the very same bit of skin his teeth had just abused, releasing it a second later with a ‘pop’, “and then, my pretty little thing, we’re going to make you our girl… not that you haven’t always been,” he pressed a gentle kiss to the same spot.
“And to think, we’ve been fucking all these other girls knowing that nothing would be as good as you, baby. They were all pretty, of course, but none of them even got close to you. None of them made me as hard as you do, or made my heart beat as quickly,” another kiss, “and Yunho would never even dream of kissing anyone that isn’t you, baby. You're special to us, hm? One of a kind,” he laced his fingers through your hair and tugged, pulling you away from the kiss. A string of spit connected your mouth with Yunho’s, neither of you making a move to break it.
“Do you feel the same?” Yunho panted out, “Do you want us just as much as we want you, darling? Do you want to be our special girl, huh? Ours to have and hold and love as we please?” you nodded as well as you could with mingi gripping your hair. He gripped it tighter for a moment or two, stilling your movements.
“Words, baby.”
“Yes,” you whimpered.
“Good,” Mingi let go and used the same hand to go fishing in the pocket of his trousers. You heard the jingling of keys as he pulled them out and passed them over to Yunho with a smile. “You've had your fun, dude,” he smirked as he placed his hand on your ass once again, “I want to play.”
“So immature,” Yunho rolled his eyes before leading the two of you inside the building and to the elevator, “seriously, I can't make out with my darling for five minutes without you getting jealous and needing to feel her up,” the elevator dinged and the doors opened. the three of you stepped inside. “you know her ass will still be there if you let go of it for two seconds, right?”
Mingi squeezed it in his huge palm.
“I don't want to let go long enough to find out,” he smacked it softly, grunting as your flesh jiggled against his already throbbing dick. “Just feels like it belongs in my hands, y’know? Like my own personal stress ball.”
Yunho sighed as the elevator stopped. He was the first out, going immediately to unlock the door and let the two of you tumble inside. Mingi guided you straight to his bedroom, Yunho following moments after, getting there just in time to see Mingi fall into the bed and position himself with his head resting on his pillow.
He looked like a god lying there in that stupid fucking compression shirt that made you stare, and a pair of beige cargo pants that did nothing to disguise the sheer size of his bulge. The cocky smirk he wore as he watched you scan him up and down was almost insufferably hot. You wanted him to make you his in every way that mattered. You wanted him to throw you around and take you however he wanted. Judging by Yunho's penchant for bossing you around, though, you guessed that was more his thing in the bedroom. Mingi just seemed to want one thing and one thing only: his hands on your ass and his face in your pussy.
“Don’t keep him waiting, darling,” Yunho said as he strolled past you towards the chair that sat facing the bed. He dropped down onto it, legs spread as he let himself fully relax. “Don’t you think he’s been patient enough? I know it might not seem like it, but you have no idea how much restraint hes had tonight,” Yunho smirked, “if he had it his way, you never would’ve left our apartment in that tight fucking dress. He would’ve been face deep in your cunt the moment you showed up at our doorstep, darling. I'm almost surprised he wasn’t…”
Mingi just chuckled from his spot on the bed before holding a hand out to you. You took it, not expecting to be yanked towards him the next second. The moment you were close enough, his big hands were everywhere, pulling you in every direction until seconds later, you too were on the bed, sitting on his chest with your knees either side of his head. You couldn’t hide the look of surprise when he hooked a finger into the crotch of your panties, tugging it to the side so he could get a full viewing of your wet pussy. He groaned at the sight, tossing his head back in pleasure as if the sight of it alone could make him cum.
“God,” he grunted, slipping a finger inside before pulling it out and popping it into his mouth, “fuck, baby. going to eat you until I'm full, okay? Going to devour you like a fucking michelin star meal, and then when Yunho’s had his turn with you, I’m going to go back for seconds.”
Yunho let out a hearty chuckle as he watched his best friend struggle to contain himself. It seemed to be having an effect on you too. Yunho wasn’t sure whether or not you’d even noticed your hips gently rocking against Mingi's chest. He assumed not.
“Baby, take your dress off,'' Mingi grunted, watching as you complied right away, ripping the soft material over your head. There was no time to feel self conscious, both men letting out a guttural groan at the sight of you, reveling in the fact that they finally had you to themselves, naked and ready for them to take care of. The cold air of the room made your nipples perk up, Mingo briefly lifting a hand up to brush against your sensitive nub, “and panties too, okay? Don’t want anything in between me and my dinner, y’know?”
You giggled but did as he said, slipping off of him for just a second or two so you could pull them off completely. You placed them into his waiting palm, only for him to screw them up and chuck them at Yunho. The man in the chair caught them with ease, something that was so incredibly hot to you, before lifting them up to his nose and taking a long, dragged-out sniff. Your jaw dropped in shock, but you didn’t have long to dwell on what had just happened. Not when mingi was pawing at your thigh, trying to get you back into position.
You slid back to where you were previously, bare leaking pussy looking him dead in the eyes. He had a grin like a shark about to go in for the kill, but his eyes were glazed over with something that could only be described as pure joy.
“Sit,” he commanded.
You did, lowering yourself gently onto his chest, thighs aching as you used them to hold the majority of your weight.
“No,” he responded, “on my fucking face, baby.”
You blushed, shifting a little so you were hovering with your core just a few inches above his face.
“Baby, if I have to tell you again I won’t be very happy,” his hands landed on your hips, “fucking,” he tugged you down sharply until your clit was brushing against his nose gently, “sit.”
He pulled you down again onto his open mouth, his tongue immediately probing your hole and making you let out what could only be described as a pornographic moan. His nose was now firmly pressed against your clit, prodding it at a new angle every time he shifted his head.
He moaned, the action sending shivers down your spine and your hand shot down to grip at his hair. Your fingers tugged at his bleached hair, pulling a prolonged groan from his plush lips as his tongue played with your dripping hole. You could feel the vibrations deep within you, causing a shiver to run freely down your spine. It felt perfect, the way he mouthed at you like you were the best meal he was ever going to have. The way he tasted you, alternating from forcing his tongue deep inside of your hole to slurping up your juices and making the most obscene, filthy sounds you think you'd ever heard. Add that to the fact that you could feel Yunho’s eyes running up and down your naked body, and you were almost ready to cum within 20 seconds of taking your seat.
“How’s she taste, Mingi?” the brunette asked from his seat, “as good as you’d been hoping? Or better?” You could hear the laughter in his voice as he quizzed your best friend. Part of you was expecting Mingi to pull away to answer, but instead he just mumbled a few incoherent words directly into your pussy before shifting his face slightly to allow his tongue to play with your clit. Yunho chuckled as you gasped at the new sensation. “Dude, you really need to learn to stop talking with your mouth full.”
But Mingi didn't pull away to repeat himself, simply letting himself indulge in his meal. In you. Lips wrapping around your clit, suckling at the bud harshly until you were letting out sharp little gasps and holding onto his hair for dear life. Sometimes he’d let his teeth scrape against you, making you whine over and over again. Then he’d circle the delicate bud with his tongue, soothing it briefly before starting the process all over again.
Suck, nip, soothe, repeat.
It was all getting to be too much. You hadn't even noticed when Yunho stood from the seat and made the short walk over to the bed. You hadn't noticed him shedding his loose white shirt, nor had you noticed him taking a seat next to you on the bed. The sound of him spitting onto his hand never registered, nor did the deep hum of satisfaction when he noticed that you were starting to grind slightly against Mingi’s face. In fact, it wasn’t until a wet digit began to circle your puckered hole that you even realised just how much had happened whilst you lost yourself in a dizzy haze of pleasure.
You cried out when you felt the digit pressing into you, pushing past the resisting ring of muscle and delving deep inside of you. That alone was enough to make you topple forwards, Mingi’s hands catching you before you could completely collapse against him. His tongue worked you through the orgasm, somehow working in perfect sync with Yunho’s finger. If you werent already feeling so fucked out, you probably wouldve marvelled at just how well practiced they seemed working as one unit. That was a thought for when you were fully lucid, though. Not for when you were cumming on your best friends tongue whilst your other best friend played with your tight asshole like it was nothing.
It felt good. Fuck, it felt damn near perfect, but you were quickly moving into the territory of overstimulation. Yunho seemed to notice, the keen eye he always kept on you working to his advantage yet again as he let his finger slide out of you and he pulled you off of Mingi’s mouth with a pop. The blonde let out a whine of complaint that was quickly silenced when he saw the blissed out look on your face as Yunho placed you gently down beside Mingi on the mattress. His sorrowful pout quickly turned into a smirk as he realised that he was the one to put you in such a state.
“One orgasm and she’s already gone dumb,” Yunho chuckled as he stood once more, unbuckling his belt and letting his pants drop to the floor. Again, a more lucid you would’ve balked at his lack of boxers, but instead all you could do was whimper as you saw the sheer size of him. It was easily the biggest dick you’d ever seen, let alone had anywhere close to you. The smug look on Yunho’s face let you know that he was aware of that fact though. “Got to be a record, right?”
“It definitely is,” Mingi’s lips were wet as he spoke, but he never bothered to wipe it away. You blushed at the thought of him wearing you on his face. He smiled, brushing a finger up against your heated cheek. “I think it's a sign.”
“A sign of what?” Yunho crawled back onto the bed, letting himself sit back on his ankles as he just stared. Eyes scanned you up and down, just as they were when he watched you ride Mingi’s face, mapping every single detail of your body. You wondered whether he did that to every girl they brought into their beds, or just you. Perhaps you were just delusional, but you couldn't help that your mind settled on the latter.
“That she’s made for us,” Mingi answered, sounding as though he was more sure of that fact than anything else in the world, “I mean come on, dude, look at her! Have you ever seen a more perfect sight?”
Yunho hummed in contemplation, acting as though he was thinking deeply about the matter of whether you were ‘made for them’ or not. As he considered, his hands joined his eyes in mapping out your body, trailing their way lightly from your ankles to your calves, stopping briefly at your thighs to massage them back to life, and then moving on to your hips. His fingertips sank into the plush flesh and he couldn’t help but let his usual warm smile make its way onto his face.
“I think you’re right, Mingi,” he said as he rubbed gentle circles into your skin, “I don't think I’ve ever seen a sight as beautiful as this one. Our little pipsqueak, lay out on your bed just for us. It just feels right.”
“I’ve lay here plenty of times,” you muttered, breaking up the conversation they were having over your head. Your brain was starting to fight through the fog that Mingi’s tongue and Yunho’s finger had somehow managed to bring upon it. Almost coherent thoughts were fighting their way to the forefront of your brain, although you had no doubt Yunho would fuck them away again in just a moments time. “And I’m pretty sure I've been naked in this bed too…”
Both men laughed wholeheartedly at the memory. You, passed out drunk in Mingi’s bed as the two men tried to get you changed into something better to sleep in. Stripping you had been the easy part. For some reason - one that you never planned on sharing - you’d been more than willing to take off each and every item of clothing once the two of you had dragged you away from the festivities in their living room. The two were more than respectful of your nude form, only sneaking glances every once in a while as they practically fought you to get you dressed into something suitable to sleep in. Apparently, not that you could remember it all too well, you’d been adamant on remaining naked and it was only when Mingi offered to buy you that pretty skirt you’d been eyeing up for weeks that you agreed to wear the boxers and the sweater that were being offered to you.
“This is different, baby,” Mingi whispered as he traced your lips with his fingers, “you were drunk then. Our priority was taking care of you and making sure that our best friend was okay. Tonight, our priority is fucking you into this mattress and making sure that our girl can’t walk straight tomorrow. It's all about context, baby.”
“So you’re saying you didn't find me hot?”
Both of them chuckled.
“You were downright adorable, but as for hot? We wouldn’t know, darling,” Yunho began to move his hands again, bringing them up to your breasts to massage them gently in his hands, “our priority was making sure you didn't throw up onto Mingi’s bed. We took a little bit of a break from fantasizing about fucking your brains out.”
“And that's all it was,” Mingi’s hand joined Yunho’s in caressing your body. Although his moved straight down to your core, dipping a finger into the wet mess he’d left there. He chuckled at the way your jaw dropped slightly, breath hitching as he let one of his long fingers slip inside of you. It curled against your velvety walls, stroking them gently. “I promise that the moment you woke up in the morning with your pouty lips and your messy hair, I went straight back to wanting you.”
“S-straight back?” You stuttered as he slipped another finger in. “I doubt that.”
Yunho flicked their thumbs over your pebbled nipples, grinning at the way you arched your back a little.
“Of course, baby! Are you kidding?” The fingers inside you picked up their pace, scissoring slightly to stretch you out. “Morning sex with you would be so fucking hot. You’re so soft and pliant when you first wake up. I just know you’d be whimpering so sweet while we manhandle you and take you apart piece by piece.”
“She’s soft and pliant all the time, Mingi. One compliment and she’s practically a fucking lap dog” Yunho took his hands away from your tits. A pathetic - even by your own admission - whine forced its way up your throat, to which Yungho replied with a chuckle. “She even cries like one.”
A third finger was pressed to your entrance, slipping inside of you with a pleasant stretch. It felt like almost too much, but one look at Yunho’s member that rested heavy between his legs had you swallowing any complaints you had. If you were going to take him like you so desperately wanted to, you'd need the prep. You’d need to be stretched out by Mingi’s fingers. As daunting as the prospect of it all was, you were a big girl.
You could take it.
You lay there, bones melting to nothing as you tried your hardest to relax into the stretch. Even if Mingi’s fingers weren’t particularly thick, they were long, and the way he was spreading them within you, pushing at your gummy walls, had you seeing stars. You gripped his wrist as he ground the heel of his hand into you, bringing you hurtling towards your second orgasm as if you hadn’t come down from your first just minutes before.
“Fuck, Mingi,” you gasped, “going to make me cum again.”
Your thighs were desperately trying to close around Mingi’s hand, but Yunho seemed to have other ideas. He grasped at them, pushing them even further apart and leaning down so his face was directly across from where Mingi was knuckle deep within you. He groaned at the sight, cock jumping slightly in anticipation. God, he wanted to be inside of you so bad.
The sound you made as you came was something you'd never heard from your own mouth before. It was loud and long and had the two boys practically drooling over you as you writhed around under their large hands and sultry gazes. Yunho's hands stopped you from wriggling away from them as Mingi once again pushed you to the brink of overstimulation before drawing his hand back and lazily licking his fingers clean.
It was quite possibly the filthiest thing you’d ever seen. you couldn’t tear your eyes away. His thick tongue darted out of his mouth to lap at the sticky substance that coated his digits before drawing back into his mouth with a thick string of arousal still connected. He groaned, eyes flickering shut as if it was the best fucking meal he’d ever tasted. You couldn’t tear your eyes away.
“Give me a taste,'' Yunho brought your attention back to him within seconds. His hands let go of your thighs, moving until they were either side of your head and his toned chest lay just above your head. You briefly admired his pecs until a moan drew your gaze back up to his mouth. his own lips were wrapped around Mingi’s middle and ring finger, cheeks hollowed out as he sucked your juices from them. Your jaw dropped as you watched him give a pretty convincing blowjob to the fingers that were plunged deep into his mouth. he pulled back, breathing heavily. “Holy fuck, puppy. What do you eat to make your pussy taste so sweet, huh?”
The fact that he’d called you puppy didn’t go unnoticed, but you were too dazed to comment. Panting like a bitch in heat as he grinned down at you, a new sheen over his lips to match mingi’s. It suited him just as much, you realised.
“Do you think you’ll taste just as sweet when we’re mixed together?” he asked as he lined himself up with your hole. He thrusted into you just a little, enough to make your eyes roll into the back of your head, before slowly drawing out again and repeating the process. “I think you will, but we’ll have to wait for Mingi to give the final verdict, yeah? he’s really into the clean up process, puppy.”
You were too fucked out to work out what Yunho meant, although you had a feeling it had to do with the blonde's seemingly voracious appetite.
Mingi tugged his finger out of his mouth with a pop.
“Nothing could tarnish the way she tastes,” he groaned as Yunho continued to thrust into you, gradually getting deeper and deeper each time he pushed into you, “even with your gross seed dripping out of her.”
Yunho rolled his eyes at Mingi as he bottomed out. you couldn’t help but tense up at the sensation of being so overwhelmingly full. It felt silly, but you were shocked at just how much bigger he was than the three fingers you came around moments prior. The tip of his cock kissed your cervix as his pelvis came to a stop against yours. He was still for a few seconds, eyes carefully studying your screwed up face for a sigh that he could begin. It took a few seconds for the crinkles in your forehead to flatten out, but once they did, he drew his hips back in one long stroke and began to thrust.
“You fucking love sucking me off,” Yunho spat back as his hips rocked into you at a harsh pace. Sharp slaps echoed around the room each time his hips came into contact with yours. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as your body went completely limp against the wrinkled-up sheets.
“I have an oral fixation, dude,” Mingi shuffled closer so he could study your face a little closer. The way your lips parted, tiny gasps coming out with each thrust. The way your eyes were spaced out, staring into thin air as you tried desperately to hang on to reality. He smirked as you whined when Yunho thrusted into you particularly hard, “me sucking you off every once in a blue moon has nothing to do with whether I like the taste of your cum or not.”
And with that, he put his lips against yours, tongue immediately taking the opportunity to explore your open mouth. Your fingers, which were desperately grasping at the sheets, flew up to the back of his head. They tangled themselves in his short locks, holding him tightly against you as he spread the taste of yourself against your mouth.
It was messy, all tongue and teeth, but you expected nothing else from Mingi. He licked at your mouth the same way he did your pussy, seeming to gather your spit onto his tongue, devouring each and every drop he could gather. You couldn’t help but let your jaw go slack, allowing him full access to your mouth. Something that had him letting out a low moan of his own.
“You’re so fucking perfect, baby,” he mumbled as he pulled away for a second, almost immediately diving back in for more. You had no time to bask in the praise before you felt a thumb pressing against your already abused clit. You gasped into Mingi’s mouth and he smiled against your open mouth. “Such a perfect girl, huh? So reactive for us.”
“Damn right she is,” Yunho continued with the same punishing pace, although his movements were getting a little sloppy. You could tell he was close, and as he circled your overstimulated clit, you could tell that you were too. Three was a lot for you, but with your two boys, it felt so natural. They pulled them out of you with ease, sending you to an unfamiliar headspace with each one. “She's our perfect girl. always fucking has been.”
“Of course she has been,” Mingi licked a stripe up your neck, loving the way it made you squirm, “our gorgeous, clueless girl. No idea just how perfect her pretty little body is.”
“Fucking shame that you are so clueless, puppy,” Yunho leant down, breathing heavy in your ears as he pushed you closer and closer to the edge. The shapes he was rubbing into your clit were desperate as he tried to pull your orgasm out of you before he spilled himself inside of you, “you had no clue that your two big, bad best friends wanted nothing more than to love you, did you?”
You whined as Mingi bit into the flesh of your shoulder. It was the final push you needed to tip you over the edge. Your head was spinning as Yunho worked you through it, hips coming to a stop as he filled you up with his cum.
“Fucking perfect,” he muttered, voice barely audible over the blood rushing in your ears.
You didn’t notice when he pulled out, sucking in a sharp breath as he washed his cum flow out of your sopping hole. Just like you didn’t notice when Mingi let out a sad whine at the sight of you being too fucked out for him to ‘clean you up’ in his own special sense of the word. Nor did you notice when Yunho went searching through Mingi’s drawers to find a pack of baby wipes.
You did notice when the cold, wet tissue first made contact with your hot skin. You whined, writhing around in discomfort as Mingi shushed you and pressed a kiss to your temple. Yunho's movements were gentle as he wiped the layer of sweat away before getting out a fresh wipe and focussing on your core. It was sensitive down there, but Mingi’s gentle comfort made it so Yunho could do his job without much upset. That didn't mean that whenever he went within a centimeter of your swollen bud you wouldn’t let out a quiet whimper. Mingi just smiled and kissed your pouted lips to distract from the overstimulation of Yunho wiping a mixture of spit and cum away from your clit.
“We really should get you up, pipsqueek,” the brunette muttered as he flopped back onto the bed, tossing an arm over your waist so naturally that it was like he hadn’t been balls deep in you minutes before, “you always complain about how you’re always too lazy to pee after sex and how you always end up with a UTI.”
“i don’t think i can bear another trip to the store to stock up on cranberry juice,” Mingi giggled in such a Mingi-ish way that the idea of his tongue pressed deep in your pussy felt like little more than one of your many daydreams about him, “it was so embarrassing when we had girls over only to offer them a drink and open the fridge to 4 bottles of cran…”
Yunho laughed wholeheartedly.
“Well I guess we don’t have to worry about that anymore,” he kissed your cheek gently, “not when we have the perfect girl right here.”
“Does this mean no more pretending I'm not jealous when you two are talking about your sexcapades?” you mutter, still only half of your brain working at full speed.
“Only if it means we dont have to hear about any more tinder hook-ups,” mingi responded, “god i fucking hated all of those men who got to touch you before i did.”
You rolled your eyes.
“You guys only have yourselves to blame. I never would’ve gone near those guys had you two not started collecting women like fucking Pokemon first!”
“I guess so,” Yunho muttered, pressing a light kiss to your temple, “but you need to know that none of them were really ours. We just didn't know we were allowed the real thing, so we had to settle.”
You scoffed.
“Real feminist of you, Yunho,” you lightly slapped his chest. Mingi laughed.
“Sorry, darling,” he apologised, “forgot that you're all for the ‘women support women’ thing, even when you're so clearly jealous.”
A comfortable silence fell over the three of you as you held one another. You in the middle with Yunho to your front and Mingi pressed to your back. You didn't miss the way their fingers tangled with one another's atop your hip. You could've mentioned it, but that was for another time.
“What made you flip tonight?” You finally asked, the all-important question dangling for a moment or two like bait. You bit, waiting patiently for the boys to give you the answer.
“You made Yunho mad,” Mingi was the first to speak, “thinking bad about yourself and your body, as if he hasn't spent years trying to talk you out of that sort of behaviour.”
You hummed in response.
“Needed to prove how beautiful we think you are, baby,” Yunho picked up where Mingi left off. “Making you ours in the process was just an added bonus.”
“So you really want me?”
“Always have, baby.”
“Always will.”
2K notes · View notes
lilacmingi · 1 month
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WHEN YOU’RE ON YOUR PERIOD
My works are 14+ ONLY. If you’re under 14 DO NOT interact with me or any of my works
Pairing: ATEEZ x fem reader
Total word count: 8,580
Note: I tried to be vague here in terms of sanitary products since I know everyone has different preferences, but pads are mentioned in Mingi’s segment
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𝐇𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐉𝐎𝐎𝐍𝐆 | 홍중 | w.c. 900
Your eyes snapped open as you were awoken by a wave of painful cramps in your abdomen, the intensity so bad it made you physically react and curl in on yourself, your eyes squeezing shut in response. When that didn't bring any relief, you rolled over on your stomach, then onto your back with your arms resting on either side of your head as you stared at the ceiling.
You tried not to move around too much so as not to disturb your boyfriend, Hongjoong, who was sleeping soundly beside you. No doubt was he up half the night working on music, so you knew he needed his rest.
Quietly, you slipped out of bed to the bathroom and sifted thought your box of sanitary items to get something to put on before sliding back under the covers, silently praying the cramps would ease up enough for you to doze off.
Your fingers curled around the sheets, hands balled into fists as you tried to ignore the pain and go back to sleep. Minutes passed, though it felt like hours, and the cramps were too much to bare, so much that an unconscious, quiet whimper slipped past your lips, your face twisted in agony as you pressed it into your pillow. You didn't realize you had woken up your sleeping boyfriend until he called your name drowsily.
"Y/n? You alright?"
There was no hiding it at this point.
"Just my period. You should go back to sleep."
He ignored your suggestion and propped himself on his elbow, eyes scanning you worriedly. "Are you hurting?"
You nodded.
"Is it bad?"
"Enough to keep me from going back to sleep." You winced as another intense wave of cramps hit your lower abdomen.
"Do you need some medicine?"
"I didn't want to take any unless I absolutely have to."
"I think you need some." He commented, pulling back the covers.
"No." You put your hand out, stopping him from getting up. "You were up late and I'm sure you've got to go to the company and work on music later today."
"I can work on it here just the same as I can at work. I've got all my equipment with me."
"Are you sure?"
"Yes." He nodded. "I'd rather be here at home to help take care of you anyway."
With that, he got up out of bed and shuffled down the hallway to the kitchen where he grabbed a bottle of water and some pain medication to soothe your cramps.
"Here, love." He handed the bottle to you after returning to the bedroom, which you gratefully took, dropping a couple pills into your hand.
"Thanks." You popped the tablets into your mouth and washed them down with water before placing the bottle on the nightstand and slumping against the headboard with closed eyes.
A frown etched its way into Hongjoong's flawless features as he brought a hand up to brush your hair away from your face. Being a man, he was unsure of the amount of pain you were in or how intense it was. Despite that, he wanted to make sure you were as comfortable as possible during this time. He was fully aware that this was something you'd dealt with for a long time, yet he had a strong desire to care for you and help you through this time of the month. He cared for you too much to watch you suffer.
Your eyes opened to find Hongjoong still standing over you worriedly, his hand resting on top of your head.
"You can lay back down, you know." You chuckled softly.
He stayed in place for a couple seconds before giving in and crawling back into bed with you, his concerned gaze trained on you the entire time.
"Come here." You beckoned him over and he was by your side in an instant.
"Are you going to be okay?" He asked, his hand finding your lower abdomen and rubbing gentle circles over it.
"Of course I will. I just need to give this medicine time to kick in and do it's thing."
"How are your cramps?"
"They still hurt and I'm still uncomfortable, but the little massage feels nice."
"Good." He smiled, applying a little more pressure causing your eyelids to slide closed.
It's true, the massage was enough to lessen the pain, only the tiniest bit, but it was the gesture that counted.
"Are you feeling hot? Or cold? Are you getting chills? Do you need more blankets? If you're too hot I can turn the air conditioner up or bring a fan in here."
"You act like I'm sick or something." You tittered softly at his rambling. "This is just something I have to deal with every month. I'm used to it."
"That doesn't mean I can't take care of you."
"I guess you're right."
"I know I'm right." He grinned. "You still didn't answer my question."
A light chuckle left you. "I'm fine, Joong."
"Alright. I'll stop with the questions now. But if you need anything, and I mean anything, you let me know. If you're craving something specific or need another bottle of water, anything, just say something."
A fond smile graced your features as you brought your hand up to Hongjoong's hair, lovingly running your fingers through it. "What did I do to deserve you?"
"You're just lucky, I guess." He grinned.
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𝐒𝐄𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐖𝐀 | 성화 | w.c. 850
A knock at your front door sounded through your mostly quiet apartment as you lied in bed curled into a ball.
Not fully awake, you didn't register the persistent knocking for quite some time. Only when it got louder did you sit upright, letting out a frustrated groan. You had started your period the day before and your symptoms were terrible. Your cramps were so bad you had to lie down with a hot pack across your abdomen, the heat making you sweat, though every time you took the pack off, you got goosebumps along your skin and felt freezing cold. To make matters worse, there were breakouts on your face, blotting your skin with ugly, discolored spots, all of these things making you feel gross overall. You hoped whoever was at the door wasn't someone important as you went to answer it.
Your heart dropped to your feet when you saw your boyfriend standing outside.
"Seonghwa!" You exclaimed out of surprise, hurrying to cover your face. "What are you doing here?"
"I wanted to surprise you. Is it a bad time?"
Yes. Is what you wanted to say.
"I..." You trailed off.
"Are you sick?"
"No. I just look terrible right now."
"That doesn't bother me." He chuckled.
You flinched away when you felt his fingers trying to wrap around your wrists.
"No." You groaned, keeping your hands planted firmly on your face. "It's that time of the month and I'm sweaty, my clothes are soaked, my face is covered in breakouts, I'm bloated, and I'm cramping so so badly that I want to cry."
"Hey." He called out softly, pulling your hands away.
You avoided eye contact with him, not wanting him to see you in such a disheveled state.
His gaze softened when he looked at you, a gentle smile gracing his lips.
"You still look beautiful to me."
You wanted to roll your eyes, but you knew Seonghwa was a genuine person and maybe, even though it was hard to believe, you did look beautiful in his eyes.
"Come on. I have an idea." He took your hand, stepping into your apartment and closing the door behind him before leading you to your bathroom.
You weren't sure what he had in mind, but whatever it was he seemed pleased with himself, so you weren't going to stop him.
Once in your bathroom, he let go of your hand and started rummaging through your cabinets.
"Alright, let's see." He muttered to himself, scanning the items in your bathroom closet.
"Hwa, what are you doing?" You finally asked, a light chuckle accompanying your question.
"I'm giving you a spa day."
"A spa day?" You echoed, your heart fluttering slightly.
"Yeah." He pulled a towel and washcloth from the bathroom closet. "You're feeling bad and what better way to help than to have a spa day? Plus, you deserve to be pampered."
You didn't know if it was your period or your overwhelming love and appreciation for Seonghwa, but you felt like crying.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome, my love." He placed a kiss on your forehead. "Bath or shower?"
"Shower."
Though a bath would be nice, nothing beat the feeling of hot water hitting your lower abdomen, right where the cramps were.
Seonghwa was nice enough to get the shower running for you, sticking his hand in to check the water temperature and make sure it was hot enough.
You thanked him as he left the room, removing your clothes after the door clicked shut. The warm steam hitting your skin as you stepped into the shower was a welcomed feeling. You managed to get through your usual shower routine, the hot water helping to soothe your persistently painful cramps, at least long enough for you to finish bathing.
Once out of the shower, you changed into the fresh pair of clothes you brought with you and used the feminine product you had laid out.
Upon exiting the bathroom, you found Seonghwa laid out on your bed.
"How was your shower?"
"Wonderful. I even cleansed my face while I was in there. I feel so refreshed."
"Well, we're not done yet." He got up off the bed. "Come on."
Guiding you back into the bathroom, Seonghwa opened up a little cabinet beside your sink where all your skincare products were stored and pulled out a small box of acne patches.
He plucked one of the star-shaped pimple patches off the plastic sheet, gently instructing you to stay still while he placed the patch onto your face, covering one of the blemishes.
"One more." He murmured, pulling off a second one and sticking it to your chin.
"Thank you."
"You're welcome." He placed a kiss to your forehead. "Are you hungry? Would you like something to eat?"
"I'm fine for now. Thank you, though. What I would really like is to cuddle up in bed with you, a heating pad, and something to watch."
"I can arrange that." He smiled happily. "But first, let's get you some pain medicine for those pesky cramps."
"That sounds like a good idea."
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𝐘𝐔𝐍𝐇𝐎 | 윤호 | w.c. 1,500
Music echoed throughout the practice room as Yunho danced, hitting each move with sharp precision. His facial expressions were intense and full of emotion as if he were putting on an actual performance on stage in front of fans.
You sat in a chair by the wall, watching him with a mesmerized gaze, enraptured by not only him, but his talent and overflowing passion for dancing. Every so often he would glance at you through the mirror, giving you a little smirk before continuing with his routine, knowing the effect he had on you, especially with the sleeves of his t-shirt rolled up to show off his arms.
As you watched, you were suddenly hit with a wave of cramps so painful it caused you to lean forward a bit, almost curling in on yourself. Your face scrunched up in response to the sharp pain.
You had started your period the night before and was expecting to be hit with these terrible cramps sooner or later—it always happened. When you first start, things are light as your body prepares to run its natural cycle, then on the first official day it hits... and it hits hard. Normally, you're woken up in the early morning hours with the most awful cramps, one's that prevent you from sleeping for a while, but on days like this it hits when you're least expecting it.
Rummaging through your bag, you retrieved a small bottle of menstrual pain relief pills, grateful that you carried some with you at all times. Shaking one out into your palm, you grabbed the bottle of water by your chair and used it to take the medication, thankfully going unnoticed by Yunho. Though you wished it would work right away and rid you of this pain and discomfort, you knew that wouldn't happen.
Attempting to ignore the throbbing in your abdomen, you continued watching your boyfriend move across the wooden flooring of the practice room, hoping for a distraction.
Who were you kidding? Nothing could distract you from from the stabbing pain you were experiencing.
The song ended and Yunho moved over to mess with his phone, choosing another song to dance to, his chest heaving up and down as he huffed out short breaths.
"You're doing so good." You praised him, putting on a smile.
"Thanks." He panted. "I think I'm gonna do a couple more songs before I take a break."
"Don't overwork yourself, okay?"
"I know." He smiled softly, leaning down to press a quick kiss to your forehead.
The next song started to play and he moved back to the center of the room to begin the routine. You crossed your legs and wrapped your arms around your midsection, curling in a bit in an attempt to get some relief. It seemed one of the best positions to be in during your monthly was curling up in a ball, of course, you couldn't exactly do that right now as you were sitting in a chair.
Your cramps eased up for a moment only to return a few seconds later, goosebumps rising on your skin as the air in the practice room suddenly felt cooler than it was moments before. At the same time, you felt yourself starting to sweat a bit.
Great. You groaned internally.
These were the worst kind of cramps; the ones where you're hot but you're cold at the same time, unable to find a comfortable temperature.
Halfway through the song, Yunho noticed your behavior. He caught you squeezing your eyes shut every so often, seeing an uncomfortable expression on your face and the stiffness in your posture. His dancing immediately ceased as he headed towards you, turning the music down.
"Are you okay, love? You look a little washed out." He commented, placing his hand on your forehead. "What's going on?"
"I got hit with the worst cramps ever." You groaned, giving up your act as you slumped forward in both defeat and agony.
"Oh, baby." Yunho cooed, crouching on the floor beside you, his hand rubbing your back. "Do you need some medicine?"
"I took some a few minutes ago. Just waiting for it to kick in."
"Why don't I take you home so you can rest."
"No. You need to practice."
"I've been practicing long enough. You need to be somewhere with a heating pad."
"That sounds nice." You sighed, imagining the soothing heat pressed against your aching lower abdomen.
"Let's go."
"I can't help but feel like I'm preventing you from practicing." You murmured after stepping into the elevator.
"You're not." He assured you, grabbing hold of your hand. "I wanted to get a little practice in and I did."
The last thing you wanted was to be a burden. Yunho was a famous K-pop idol whose group had a giant fanbase. He needed to practice hard and spend hours at the company to perfect and improve his dancing and performance skills. Somehow, you felt you were a distraction that would cause your boyfriend to get in trouble with the entertainment company for "slacking off".
Yunho, who could tell by the distant look in your eyes that you were lost in a whirl of troublesome and perhaps even negative thoughts, gave your hand a light squeeze, bringing you back to reality.
"Are you hungry?" He asked. "Dancing really worked up my appetite."
"Yeah." You nodded. "I had a light breakfast so I could definitely go for some food."
"Good. We can go back to the dorm and I'll order us something. You can pick whatever you want. Oh, I have a heating pad too. That should help with your cramps."
"But I don't have any... stuff there." You responded.
You had one or two menstrual items with you in your bag, but that wouldn't be enough to last you a visit at Yunho's.
"Oh. Don't worry about it. I can stop by a store on the way and buy whatever you need."
His offer was so sweet it had you falling for him all over again.
"You don't have to do all that."
"I don't mind." His round eyes sparkled with the genuine desire to help you out in any way he possibly could.
The elevator doors slid open and the both of you headed through the lobby and out onto the sidewalk where Yunho's car was parked on the curb.
At the dorm, Yunho handed you the plastic bag with the feminine products he had purchased for you on the way.
"What would you like to eat? I can go ahead and order it."
After going through a list of things you were craving, you decided on one and let Yunho know.
Just before he left the room to place the order, he stopped at the doorway. "If you want to change into something more comfortable, you have free range of my closet."
As soon as he left the room, you wasted no time scurrying over to his closet and rummaging through his shirts. What you currently had on was comfortable, but there was no way you'd pass up the opportunity to wear Yunho's clothes.
Pulling one of your favorite shirts of his from the closet, you brought it with you to the bathroom where you switched out feminine products and changed into the cozy shirt.
Yunho returned just a couple minutes later to inform you the order had been placed before rummaging through his closet, pulling out a heating pad.
"Come on." He beckoned, pulling back the covers of his bed and nodding towards the empty space.
You slid under the sheets, staring up at Yunho who worked to plug up the pad.
"You should lie down and use this while we wait on the food. Then maybe your cramps will be gone and you can fully enjoy your meal."
Your heart swelled with adoration at his words.
Yunho laid the heating pad across your stomach before resting his hand on top of it.
"How's that feel?" His gentle voice asked.
"So good." You sighed out, closing your eyes. "My cramps eased up a bit on the ride over here, but this heat is doing wonders."
"Good." The smile in Yunho's voice was evident as he leaned in, brushing your hair away from your forehead to place a gentle kiss there.
You peeled your eyes open to see Yunho grabbing his dog-shaped body pillow which he designed for his birthday merchandise.
"Here. You can hold Pudeongie."
You chuckled, taking the pillow from him and hugging it to your side. Though you preferred to cuddle with Yunho, you couldn't exactly do that with the heating pad laying over your lower abdomen.
"Thank you for taking care of me." You hummed.
"You're welcome, beautiful." He combed a hand through your hair. "I need to get a quick shower and wash all this sweat off. Then we can cuddle properly while we wait for our food."
A content smile settled onto your features. "That sounds perfect."
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𝐘𝐄𝐎𝐒𝐀𝐍𝐆 | 여상 | w.c. 1,000
Twice. That's how many times you cried over a commercial that day. Why? Well, you were blaming it on your period, especially since grocery store commercials didn't normally tug at your heartstrings on a normal day. I mean, how can you possibly keep it together when there's a commercial about an animated man who's little granddaughter pulls out an old recipe book from his deceased wife that he hadn't opened in years?
You were wiping away tears that were threatening to spill when your phone chimed from its spot beside you on the couch. Flipping the device over, you were met with your boyfriend's contact photo taking up the entirety of your screen. It was a FaceTime call. Your thumb swiped to accept the call, holding the phone up so he could see you.
"Hi, angel." He flashed that heart-melting smile of his, waving to the camera.
Judging by the background, he was at his dorm in his bedroom.
"Hi, Sangie."
His large eyes suddenly became sad, worried even, while his lips stuck into a pout. "Were you crying? Are you okay?"
"Oh." You glanced at yourself in the camera, noticing the slightly glossy look your eyes were currently sporting.
It wasn't super obvious that you had been tearing up, but Yeosang was always so perceptive when it came to you.
"My emotions are all crazy. I got choked up watching a commercial." You chuckled, finding it a bit humorous.
"So you're not sad?" He wanted to be certain that you weren't upset.
"No." You laughed softly. "Just hormonal."
Yeosang's brows raised, his eyes becoming wider in sudden realization. Then came the flood of questions.
"Do you need anything? Are you hurting? Should I pick up some pads? Tampons? Do you have enough pain relievers? Are you drinking lots of water? I heard being active helps cramps. Have you been active? Are you taking vitamins? There are supplements that help ease period symptoms. Should I get you some of those?"
"I'm fine, Yeosang." You cut in before he could continue, chuckling endearingly at his concerned rambling. "I'm not hurting too bad. It's only the third day so my cramps aren't too bad. They come and go, but they're not as severe as they were on day one. Yes I'm drinking water, maybe not enough, but I'm drinking it. And I've been lounging on the couch since I got out of bed."
"Ah. Sorry. I guess I got carried away." That tiny, shy smile of his made its appearance as he rubbed the back of his neck in a sheepish manner. "Have you been eating fruits or something healthy?"
You nearly snorted. "Actually, I've been indulging in some of the cravings I've been having." You lifted a bag of your favorite chips to the camera. "So, what are you up to?"
"I called because I don't have a schedule today and I wanted to see if you'd like to hang out."
Just the thought of spending time with Yeosang made your heart soar with excitement.
"I would love to."
"Since you're on your period, I'll come to your place. If that's okay with you."
"Yeah." You nodded. "That's perfect, actually."
"Okay." He beamed. "I'll start making my way right now."
"I'll be waiting." You waved. "Love you."
"Love you too."
The FaceTime ended and you tossed your phone back to the couch cushion, briefly considering wether or not you should leave your comfortable spot on the sofa and put some makeup on. It didn't take long for you to to completely disregard the idea. After all, you had just FaceTimed him and he saw your makeup-free (and slightly blemished) face so there was no need covering it up.
A gentle knock on your front door sounded just fifteen minutes after your call with Yeosang. You leapt from your seat and scurried to answer the door. The man you had been longing to see stepped inside, wrapping his arms around you in a cozy embrace while he gently rocked the both of you side to side.
"I'm so happy to see you."
"I'm happy to see you too, precious." He pulled away, gazing at you with those sparkly, brown eyes of his. "Are you feeling alright?"
"I'm cramping, but it's nothing too bad. Not right now, anyway."
"You sure?"
"Mhm."
"What do you feel like doing?"
"Well, I was watching TV on the couch but I'd kind of like to lie down."
"Okay then we'll cuddle in bed and have a movie marathon."
You hummed in agreement and tugged Yeosang further into your home, guiding him to your bedroom where the both of you got comfortable under the covers.
Your boyfriend had barely gotten situated before you were resting your head on his chest and snuggling into his side.
It was a blessing that Yeosang wanted to come over because it's exactly what you needed at that moment. Being cuddled up next to him made your heart swell and provided you with a cozy feeling in your chest.
"What would you like to watch?" He reached for the remote.
"Actually, do you think you could sing to me?"
Yeosang stiffened just the slightest bit, clearly not expecting the request.
"Of course. Any song suggestions?"
"Whatever you want to sing." You murmured, snuggling further into his chest.
A gentle smile graced Yeosang's statuesque features as he began singing a current favorite song of his. His fingers ran through your hair in a gentle and soothing manner, your eyes fluttering closed in response as you listened to his silky voice, which was doing a great job at distracting you from your cramps that were thankfully going away on their own, albeit slowly.
Yeosang's voice was heavenly. From his low register to his faint lisp that could be heard in his singing. It all had your heart doing somersaults in your chest.
"So beautiful." You murmured sleepily, as Yeosang's gentle ministrations were making you drowsy. "Thank you, Yeo."
This was all you needed.
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𝐒𝐀𝐍 | 산 | w.c. 1,400
4 AM. That's what time you were finally able to get to sleep the night before. It was that time of the month and your incessant cramps were so bad not even Midol could fix it. You were miserable. Normally, you could ignore any mild cramps that would inconveniently hit just as you were going to bed, but these were the kind that kept you awake, the pain just a little too intense for you to relax, leaving you tossing and turning for hours on end. Between the cramps and having to get up to pee every five minutes, there was no way you could rest.
It was after barely after 4 AM when your cramps eased up just enough for you to relax and finally doze off.
Presently, it was 12 PM, which meant you got a decent eight hours of sleep, even though your body felt like it needed just a smidge more.
You pushed yourself out of bed, giving a brief glance at the fitted sheet wrapped around the mattress to make sure you didn't have any overnight leaks. With no stains in sight, you shuffled to the bathroom where you went through your usual routine and freshened up, which woke you up a bit and made you feel a little less crappy.
You swapped your PJs for some loose-fitting sweats and one of your boyfriend's shirts that he left at your place before heading to the living room to turn on the television. After a few moments of mindless channel surfing, you found a show that grabbed your attention and decided to watch.
It didn't take long for your cramps to start up again. The ache, while annoying, wasn't anything too unbearable, not like last night, anyway. So you ignored it, sinking further into the couch cushions while keeping your eyes locked on the TV.
You made it through the remainder of the episode before the cramps really ramped up, the sudden increase in pain and discomfort causing you to lurch forward.
Your face contorted in agony, the sharp jabs in your abdomen leading you to jump to your feet and make a beeline for the kitchen where the medicine was kept. You tore open the cabinet and located the pain medicine you so desperately needed. Since your cramps were just as bad as they were in the early morning hours, you took two pills, assuring you'd get the minimum amount of pain relief.
With a hot pack laid across your lower abdominal area, you settled back into the couch cushions and proceeded to watch television, doing your best to focus on the show. Sometimes having a distraction helped to take your attention off the wrath Mother Nature was thrusting upon your uterus.
At some point, you unconsciously started rocking back and forth, partially hunched over. The heat paired with the movement seemed to be helping just a little, however now a very thin layer of sweat covered your forehead and on your shirt where the hot pack was pressed against your abdomen was a damp spot. You huffed, pulling off the hot pack to fan your shirt a bit and cool off. That only caused a wave of goosebumps to rise along your skin, the air in your home being a little too cold for your linking. So you laid the hot pack back across your abdomen. This went back and forth for the next ten minutes or so, only adding to your frustration and discomfort.
"Ha. Ha. I love being a woman." You commented dryly to no one at all, wrapping your arms around your midsection.
You probably looked pathetic all crumpled up and curled in on yourself but you were in the privacy of your own home and you were in extreme pain. You'd do whatever it took to get it to go away.
The stabbing cramps had gotten so bad in such a short amount of time. Your brain was in a haze and all you could think about was the pain. Just when you felt you had reached your limit, your phone rang.
Fumbling for the device, you lifted it to see who was calling. It was San, your loving boyfriend whom you were suddenly missing very much. You accepted the call and raised the phone to your ear.
"Hello, gorgeous." His silky voice came through the speaker.
"Hi, Sannie." You did your best to sound cheery, but the greeting came out as a sort of pained grunt.
"Are you okay?" The pout in his voice was evident.
"No. Not really." You answered honestly. "I'm on my period."
A tiny gasp was heard on his end followed by an, "Oh no."
"Yeah."
"You poor thing." He cooed. "Why don't I come take care of you."
"That would be great."
"I'll be over there as soon as I can, baby."
Less than 20 minutes later, there was a knock at your door which had your heart jumping for joy. As soon as you opened the door, San walked in and pulled you into a hug.
"Hi dear." He murmured as he stroked the top of your head. "Are you hurting?"
"Very much so."
"Ah." He nodded knowingly as you parted ways. "I know what I have to do."
He balled his hands into fists, crouching down at bit so he was level with your lower abdomen. Before you had the chance to question what he was doing, he began to punch the area where your uterus was, stopping right in front of it because, well, he would never actually hit you.
"Stop!" He demanded sharply, going in for another punch. "Stop it."
The phrase was uttered during each strike of his fist, his words being punctuated by his actions.
The chuckles that had begun to spill from your lips were now turning into full on laughter as your boyfriend continued punching at your lower abdomen, demanding that it "stop".
"Thank you, Sannie." You giggled.
The both of you made yourselves comfortable on the couch where San immediately wrapped his arms around you and held you close.
"If you need anything, let me know."
"Okay." You tittered softly.
Having San with you provided a good enough distraction to take your mind off the discomfort in your abdominal area. He would make comments about something on TV and ask questions to help keep you occupied with things besides period pains.
At some point, you stood up and excused yourself to go switch feminine products, doing so in just a couple minutes.
It was only when you were returning to the living room that you realized your abdominal cramps had gone away but a persistent, dull ache had become present in your lower back.
Your face twitched slightly as you shuffled towards the couch, catching your always observant boyfriend's attention.
"What is it?" He asked.
"I'm having cramps in my back."
"You have period cramps in your back?" San asked in disbelief.
"Sometimes." You sighed, unconsciously massaging your lower spine.
Your boyfriend was baffled. San knew periods could be a pain and there were lots of symptoms that varied in intensity, but this was crazy. Why would you get pain in other areas? He didn't think that was very fair.
"Come here." San took your hands, leading you to your bedroom where he insisted you lie down on your stomach.
You did as he asked, getting yourself comfortable on the mattress before feeling it dip under San's weight.
"Tell me where it hurts." His hands placed themselves on your spine.
"Lower."
His palms slid further down your back.
"Right there."
San's thumbs rubbed over the muscles a few times, making long upward strokes as he applied pressure on the sore spots. A sigh passed through your slightly parted lips as relief washed over you.
"Is that good?" He inquired tentatively.
"So good."
San hated that this was something you had to deal with every month. Even though that's just how things were and he couldn't do anything about it, it didn't seem fair.
"I'm sorry you're feeling so icky, pretty."
"I'm far from pretty right now." You chuckled.
"Not true."
His ministrations came to a halt as you lifted your head just enough to glance back at him.
"I'm serious." He insisted with a pout.
"You're too sweet." You dropped your head back onto the pillow as he continued massaging.
"Only for you, lovely."
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𝐌𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐈 | 민기 | w.c. 900
If there was one thing about your period, it was that it showed up at the most inconvenient time.
Mingi's body moved with such fluidity that it had you mesmerized—hypnotized, even. His body control was out of this world and never failed to hold your attention. His oversized sleeveless tee hung off his slim figure, the thin fabric swinging about as he danced with rigor and passion. His movements were so intense sometimes that the hem of his shirt would fly up and reveal his tiny waist and smooth stomach. The sight was a small blessing to your eyes and just another perk of watching him get in an extra practice session on his weekend off. His brows were pulled together in concentration, his sharp eyes fixed on his reflection, inspecting his own movements. He had no idea you were practically drooling over him in the corner of the room.
You were having a wonderful time when suddenly you felt it... the gush.
Right away, you sat upright and pushed yourself up from your seat, standing stiffly in place.
This abrupt and unusual reaction caught Mingi's attention almost immediately and had him scrambling to pause the music.
"What's wrong? Are you okay?"
"Yeah. I just need to go to the bathroom." You excused yourself and headed straight for the practice room door, trying your best to walk normally instead of the usual stiff-legged hobble you would be doing if you were at home.
You had started your period the day prior and it was already in full swing, hitting you with all it had. This morning before you left, everything was light, so you assumed this time around you'd ease into it, but you were so very wrong.
In the bathroom, you closed the stall door behind you, making sure to lock it before taking a seat to assess the damage.
"Oh boy." You whispered under your breath, reaching for your bag and rummaging for an extra pad in the inner side zipper. Empty.
Oh no.
Normally, you had extra feminine hygiene products with you, however, it seemed this time you had forgotten to replace them.
Great.
After washing your hands, you returned to the practice room, shifting from one foot to the other. It appeared that Mingi hadn't moved since you left the room, his normally narrow eyes now round with worry.
"Is everything okay?"
"Uh." You rubbed the back of your neck.
Just say it. It's a normal thing, Y/n. You reminded yourself. There's nothing to be embarrassed about.
"I don't have any pads with me." You confessed embarrassedly.
Mingi blinked owlishly a few times, not quite understanding what you meant.
You gave a vague nod down towards your lower half, trying to communicate without saying it outright.
Mingi's eyes became wider in realization.
"Ohh!"
"Yeah." You sighed. "I forgot to put more in my bag and I need one... like right now."
You were about to apologize for needing to leave so abruptly so you could take care of the problem when Mingi spoke up.
"Stay here. I'll go find you one."
"What?" You questioned, your eyes following him as he hurriedly exited the practice room.
Without receiving a response, you dropped down into the chair you occupied before your hasty exit moments earlier, waiting patiently for your boyfriend to return.
Mingi moved down the halls of KQ, searching for any staff that may be nearby. He popped his head into empty offices and meeting rooms, turning corners and scouring the place for any employees wandering about. The entertainment company had many staff members, so it shouldn't be that hard.
He came upon one of the lounges, poking his head into the room to find two female staff members having a quick snack together.
"Excuse me." He spoke timidly, suddenly feeling a little embarrassed to ask for feminine products. "Do either of you happen to have any... pads?"
He was quick to put himself back in place, reminding himself that he was helping you out.
You were his girlfriend and if you needed a pad then gosh darn it he was going to get one for you, embarrassed or not.
"Oh. I'm sorry I don't." One of the women apologized.
"I do, but I left my bag in my office on the next floor." The other responded.
"Ah."
Mingi didn't want to inconvenience the woman, especially since she probably had a busy schedule so he thanked them both and left, continuing his search.
He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while his eyes darted around, reading the labels on each door that lined the hall in search of his next place to check.
After three tries, Mingi was able to get you a pad, which he hoped was enough to sustain you for the duration of his solo practice.
Your boyfriend reentered the practice room, holding up the plastic-wrapped square like it was a trophy.
"I got it."
You plucked the item from his hand, pulling him into a hug.
"You didn't have to do that. I was just gonna go to a nearby store and buy some."
"I knew I could find one quicker by asking around."
You smiled softly. "Thank you."
"Of course." He brushed your hair out of your face. "You feeling alright?"
"For now."
"If you need to go home, just let me know."
"I will. Thanks, Mingi."
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𝐖𝐎𝐎𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐆 | 우영 | w.c. 980
You stepped down the aisle that housed all the feminine products you could ever need, Wooyoung coming to a stop beside you as you eyed the pad and tampon section.
"So what size pu—"
"Don't even finish that sentence." You cut him off, raising your hand to stop him. "I don't want to hear that phrase or that word come out of your mouth."
"Yes ma'am." He saluted.
Huffing, you proceeded further down the aisle until you found what you were looking for.
While scanning the different sizes of products available on the shelves, your ever curious boyfriend wandered up and down the aisle to keep himself busy.
Once you acquired what you were looking for, you turned to see Wooyoung holding a box of tampons, examining the packaging.
"You put these inside you?" He asked in disbelief.
"Woo, put those back."
He did as he was told, his face twisted in either disgust or discomfort, you couldn't tell, as he did so.
"Alright. I've got everything I need." You announced, preparing to head to the register until you realized Wooyoung stayed put, staring with furrowed brows at the plethora of feminine products lining the shelves.
"What is it?"
"Why are there so many?" He asked. "How do you even know what to get?"
"It all depends on what you're comfortable with. Some people prefer tampons, others prefer pads."
"Okay but the pictures on these are different." He pointed to a section of pads.
"Right. Some have wings so the pad stays in place and doesn't squish up and some don't. Again, that's all depending on personal preference. Some pads are thin while others are thick so they can absorb more. They vary in size as well. Some people like longer pads so they don't have a leak while they're sleeping or lying down."
Wooyoung's eyes remained wide, his brows pulled together as he soaked in all this new information, scanning over each plastic package.
"How do you know if you need thin pads or thick ones?"
"That depends on your flow."
"Flow?" He echoed.
You did not expect to be having an in-depth conversation about periods with your boyfriend in the middle of the feminine hygiene aisle but there you were.
Then again, he grew up with brothers. Of course he wouldn't know everything about a woman's menstrual cycle. Also you didn't think that was something that a mother would talk to her son about, especially in detail.
"You know how you can barely turn a faucet on and the water runs just a little, but when you turn it more, a lot of water comes out?"
He nodded.
"That's how it is with periods."
"So you can turn it off?"
"Unfortunately not. That's why we need these things." You gestured to the array of feminine products. "What I mean is, with some people their flow is heavy while others are lighter, so you buy products according to that."
"It's not the same for everyone?"
"Not at all. Some people have very heavy flows. I've even heard of people buying bladder leak pads because they're more absorbent."
"It gets that bad?" Wooyoung gaped.
"Mhm." You nodded.
"And it's the same for the other things too?"
"Tampons."
"Right. That."
"Yes. They've got different sizes according to your flow as well."
"Wow. That's so complicated."
"Not when you've lived with it most of your life." You chuckled. "Let's go."
"Girls get cravings for chocolate when they're on their period, right?" Wooyoung asked as the both of you made your way towards the front of the store.
"It's not always chocolate, but yes. Cravings tend to happen." You responded.
"What do you usually crave?" He asked.
"Usually sweet stuff, but it differs."
"Should I get you some?"
Your expression softened as you looked at him, seeing the genuine care in his eyes.
"Sure."
"Come on then. Let's go see what they have." Wooyoung took hold of your free hand, pulling you towards the snack aisle which was packed with junk food and sweets.
You perused the shelves, trying to figure out what sounded good at the moment.
"Pick whatever you want." Wooyoung told you. "My treat."
That made you stop. "What?"
"Your period stuff, snacks, I'll pay for all of it."
For someone who was making period jokes earlier, he sure was being sweet.
You leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his cheek, thanking him for his thoughtful offer.
On the way home, you decided to tease Wooyoung since he barely knew anything about periods, curious to see his reaction to a particular prank you'd seen circulating the internet.
"Did you know pads and tampons come in different flavors?"
Wooyoung's eyes widened. "Flavors?"
"Yeah. Didn't you notice the colors and pictures on the packaging?"
"Yes."
"The color is whatever flavor they are. Green is green apple, purple is grape, pink is strawberry and so on."
"Wait really?"
"Yeah."
"Why? What's the point?"
You shrugged, holding back a grin.
"Are you being serious right now? Do they really have flavors?"
"No." You laughed, throwing your head back as you let loose a string of cackles.
"Y/n, that's so mean." Wooyoung pouted. "I almost believed you."
"Sorry." You laughed. "I just wanted to see if I could get by with it."
"I bought you snacks." His full lips were stuck out as he spoke, his arms crossed over his chest.
"I was just teasing, love." You nudged him.
Unable to keep up his act any longer, Wooyoung cracked a small smile.
"That was pretty good, actually."
"I know." You grinned.
"I think you should make it up to me though"
"How?" Your eyes narrowed, wondering what sort of deal he was preparing to strike up.
"Play video games with me when we get home."
A smiled made its way onto your face at his proposal. "I think that can be arranged."
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𝐉𝐎𝐍𝐆𝐇𝐎 | 종호 | w.c. 1,050
The sunlight that seeped in through the window hit your closed eyelids, the intrusion pulling you from your sleep just enough to make you aware of it. You rolled over in bed keeping your eyes shut, snuggling further into your plush pillow. As you slowly began to wake, you stretched your arm across the bed, reaching for Jongho only to be met with an empty space, the palm of your hand hitting the sheets that were crumpled from being haphazardly tossed back into place. The lack of his presence made you frown, sitting up on your elbow while searching the room.
All thoughts of your temporarily missing boyfriend flew right out the bedroom window as a sticky and somewhat uncomfortable feeling below caught your attention. The all too familiar heart-stopping feeling was something you knew well. Without wasting another second, you shot up out of bed, jerking back the covers to find an ugly, red stain on the fitted sheet.
"No, no, no, no, no." You murmured the same word over and over again in a panic.
This was Jongho's bed and it was his sheets you'd just ruined.
"Crap." You hissed, rushing to your bag to grab an extra pair of underwear and fresh pants, taking your toiletry bag with you as you slipped into the bathroom to clean yourself up. While in the bathroom, you managed to get most of the bloodstain off your panties thanks to some cold water and hand soap, which seemed to do the trick. The process was repeated for your pajama bottoms.
Once you were finished, you went back to Jongho's room and promptly stripped his bed, wadding your stained underwear and pajama pants up with them.
You weren't sure where Jongho was, but you hoped you could make it to the laundry room without being noticed.
The universe must've been against you because as soon as you stepped out of the bedroom, Jongho was standing there in the hallway.
"Jongho." You uttered his name dumbly.
"Y/n, you're awake." He smiled softly, his eyes dropping down to the crumpled wad of fabric in your arms. "Why do you have the sheets?"
"I sweat pretty bad last night." You lied. "I didn't want to leave your sheets stinky so I'm going to wash them."
"Oh. You don't have to do that. I can wash them."
You pulled the heap away from him just as he reached out to take them from you. "It's okay. I got it. Really."
He held his hands up in surrender. "Alright."
You hurried past him and into the laundry room, lying the sheet across the top of the washer and dryer along with your underwear and pajama bottoms as you rummaged through Jongho's detergent to see if he had a stain stick or something to pretreat the splotch before tossing it into the wash.
You pushed past bleach, fabric softener, and laundry scent crystals, but you couldn't seem to find any stain remover.
Jongho heard your noisy rummaging from the other room, going to check on you and see if you needed any help. When he stepped into the laundry room he saw his sheets laid out, a dark red stain standing out against the gray fabric. Along with it was your panties and the pair of pajama bottoms you had worn to bed the night before, an equally as noticeable stain on them as well.
Your eyes were blown wide like a deer in the headlights as embarrassment and mortification hit you like a massive wave, your entire face set on fire due to the situation.
Not only had Jongho seen the ugly stain you left on his (probably expensive) sheets, but your underwear and pajama bottoms as well.
You should have moved. You should have scrambled to grab your panties and hidden them behind your back, but you were completely frozen in place, unable to move. As if that wasn't bad enough, you could feel what was sure to be a painful series of cramps coming on in your lower abdomen.
Jongho's eyes met yours and you let loose, sputtering what could only be classified as word vomit.
"I'm so sorry I ruined your sheets. I promise I'll get the stain out. I know it's gross and it's embarrassing."
"It's not gross." He responded, his expression showing no disgust whatsoever. "You can't control it."
"What?"
Jongho shrugged. "It's only natural."
You couldn't ignore the way your heart thumped. Of course Jongho wouldn't think something like this was a big deal. You should've known better. Nothing ever phased him.
Jongho's eyes drifted back over to the sheets on the washer where your undergarment was still laid out for him to see.
"Don't look at those." You stepped in front of your unmentionables to block his view.
"Why?" He chuckled amusedly. "It's just underwear. You've seen mine before."
"That's because you don't know how to keep your room clean and they're tossed on the floor."
"Touché. But it's still just underwear. No big deal." He stepped forward, rubbing the top of your head. "You're worrying too much, pretty."
You huffed softly, sticking out your bottom lip in reluctant defeat.
"Now let's take care of these sheets. What were you looking for in here?"
"Something to pretreat the stain."
"Ah." Jongho moved over to his laundry products, pulling out a spray bottle. "I believe this is what you were searching for. This should do the trick. I've used it to get coffee stains out of my clothes plenty of times. Works like a charm."
"Thanks." You took the bottle from him and sprayed the stains on everything before tossing them into the washing machine.
"I'll start the wash." Jongho volunteered, messing with the settings and starting the laundry cycle.
He came up and rubbed your back soothingly.
"You feeling alright?"
"For now. The cramps haven't started up yet, but I'm sure they will."
"If they do, I've got a heating pad you can use."
Your gaze softened while a gentle smile graced your features. "Thank you."
"Of course." He stroked your hair in a caring manner. "Are you hungry? You want anything to eat?"
"Some breakfast sounds nice."
"Alright. I'll make you your favorite." He pressed a kiss to your forehead. "You just sit and I'll make it."
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essenteez · 10 months
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𝐖𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐒𝐖𝐄𝐑 || yunho
"falling in love with your best friend feels like eighth deadly sin."
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"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."
𝐒𝐲𝐧𝐩𝐨𝐬𝐢𝐬 : You made a tough decision that left you absolutely devastated. Falling in love with your best friend was unacceptable. You got to leave. The method was slowly vanishing from Yunho's life until he would get used to your abstance. Deep down, a voice kept telling you it was the right choice. However, Yunho never meant to let you go as he stood in your door on one rainy spring evening, demanding an explanation.
𝐏𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠 : Yunho × (f)reader
𝐆𝐞𝐧𝐫𝐞 : Angst, smut
𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 : explicit language, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f!receiving), tongue fuck, anal fingering, ass smacking, missionary, deep penetration, pet names
𝐖𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐬 : 6k
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Is it possible to feel like your decision, at the same time, is the best and the worst? As if you’re attempting to go both ways, feeling like your body is ripping apart.
You asked some of your friends about it, desperate for a helpful answer.
"Depends.'' they always shrugged, which only meant they had the same idea about it as you did. Read as none.
In the beginning, you thought your approach to the problem would be the best solution for both him and yourself. However, the more time had passed, the more it all felt like the most fanciful of tortures.
Nothing had happened between you two, nothing deep enough that you could hold on to. So why, why did you keep failing to convince yourself that everything you went through was for the best. Was it because of guilt that was eating you alive whenever he looked hurt by the distance you had been widening for the past four months? Or because that was a normal reaction after sacrificing something important for a better cause? You were doing that for both of you, especially for him. Your intentions were good. Why wasn't it working?
And now there you were, completely frozen, face to face with him in the late spring evening as he suddenly banged on your door, ten minutes after you ignored his text once more.
You were now staring at the upset man in front of you. Due to shock, you couldn't look away. You allowed his eyes to burn into you.
He was drenched from the pouring rain outside, standing at your door that you should've never opened. His expression and posture reminded you of a wild animal that was about to attack you.
Your hand trembled on the knob as you contemplated slamming the door in his stoic but serious face. All you wanted to do was crawl under your bedsheets to hide for the rest of your miserable life.
You were wrong from the very beginning. You didn't put on any sacrifice. You've been running away like a coward, and at that very moment, you were about to receive your punishment.
"We need to talk, don't you think?" The jaw muscles tensing up under his skin as he almost hissed the words out.
You had to get away from him, as far as possible. Far away, so it was easier for you to breathe again. It was time to dig through the long list of excuses that, to be honest, you were running out of.
"I was actually getting ready to leave for a night out with girls, so can we…"
His index finger pointed in your face, which stopped you from continuing the poor act.
"This is the only chance I'm giving you to explain what's happening, (y/n). If you close this fucking door on me…" he hesitated but the power in his voice didn't weakened, "you'll never see me again."
The breath abruptly left your lungs. You swore your heart stopped for a second just to restart its beating with double the speed. You heard your blood pumping in your veins as the inner panic unleashed from his words that were like a magic spell.
There was no bluff in his words. He didn't mean to scare you, despite him knowing you were vulnerable for empty threats like that. The warning was absolutely backed up. You could see it by the way he stood there before you, how he clenched his fists, the way he looked at you with devouring anger in his brown eyes.
No doubt, you crossed all possible lines. And you had no idea how to handle the consequences. You knew one thing, you'd rather die than never see him again.
"What do you mean?" You still tried, wishfully thinking he spoke about something else.
No answer came your way. He simply passed you by and stormed inside your apartment. You were too scared to protest, not after the eyes he gave you before walking in.
You slowly closed the door, in need of every second to gather all the shreds of courage you had in you. There wasn't much.
Somewhat ready to get eaten alive by the unbearable remorse, you finally turned around. However, he disappeared from your eyes' reach.
"Yunho…"
"You still have some of those spare clothes I left once after a party?" He yelled from what you realized was your bedroom. "I'm totally soaked."
The last thing you cared about now was wet stains on your wooden floor, spreading from the door through the living room up to your bedroom and glistening in the weak lamp light.
You couldn't form a word, every sound was caged in your throat. The anxiety began its biggest harvest inside you. You felt all the strength leaving your body. All you could muster up was standing on your two feet in the middle of your living room, and that alone was impressive in your current state.
You were registering his steps in the other room. Yunho walked into the bathroom to get rid of the wet clothes. He spoke to himself about how nice that the dryer was there. Then he reentered the bedroom and next you heard nothing but his loud sighs.
"Come here." His voice had little volume to it, but the depth of its tone resonated in your ears and echoed in your whole being. The command was crystal clear and sent a set of sharp shivers down your spine.
You let your feet lead you to the doorframe of your room. However, you stopped them there.
He was sitting on your bed, aggressively rubbing the towel on his wet hair. He wore his plain black T–shirt and pair of gray sweatpants you stored in your drawer after he forgot it months ago. He looked like he had just walked out of the shower.
"Do you hate me?" He asked suddenly, still not looking at you. "Maybe I scared you with something I said or did?"
You wanted to refuse, feeling your heart cracking even more, but no sound left your dry mouth.
He, on the other hand, had a lot to say.
"Did I do something wrong, hmm? Cause I've spent three months going back and forth to all our meetings, and I genuinely don't know what that would be." He laughed bitterly, still drying his thick black hair.
You felt like shrinking while the guilt that kept growing towered over you unforgivably. You had seen Yunho angry before but never at you. Why were you so stupid to think it would never reach you after all you had done?
A tint of sadness invaded his chords, "You suddenly started to avoid me, mumble something under your nose instead of answering me, or you have been straight up ignoring me. You don't pick up my calls or respond to my texts and if you do it's always the same shit 'I'm busy, will call you later' which is bullshit cause you never do, (y/n)."
The tears showed up in your eyes, and you bit your lip to stop them from pouring out like a tidal wave.
He noticed it. The hand with a towel dropped on his legs.
"I don't know, did someone tell you we can't be friends or make you feel bad about it?"
Yes. Me. You cried inside your jumbled mind.
"No." You uttered, swallowing your tears.
"Then what?" He urged, aggressively tossing the towel aside after he turned it into a damp ball. Now, all his attention was paid to you, and you felt bare under his eyes.
"I don't know what to tell you." You whispered, the lump in your throat only grew.
"The truth, (y/n)." He begged. "If you don't want to be friends anymore, then fine, I can't force you. But after all this time and memories we've made, I think I deserve to hear a reason behind your decision. Not to mention everything was fine 'till Hongjoong's birthday."
Him, now linking the dots, made you feel as icy needles ruched in your blood, tearing your veins.
Something did happen at your friend's birthday party. One innocent game, alcohol untying people's mouths, and you ended up begging God to help you erase that night from your head.
You thought you kept your composure after drunk Bona spilled her crush on your best friend. This one sentence that she sang toward him smashed the glass of denial and released all the spirits of truth. The realization hit you like thunder, and the effects never left with time.
After that, you slowly, nor drastically, began walking away. Your behavior should not have been seen as related to that party's events.
If it was so clear to Yunho, was it obvious to everybody else?
Although he was right.
What were you thinking? It is Yunho, we're talking about. He would never leave a problem untouched when he saw one. There was nowhere to run and hide now, and it never had been.
You reached your hand to the light switch and let the room get embraced by darkness. There was no option for him to see the shame on your face when you would be telling him the issue that tormented both of you.
He didn't say anything, handing you the mic.
You walked inside the room and slid to the wall, calling on it for support. You were placed in front of him but at a safe but far distance.
"I love you." You confessed, shaking like a leaf. "I don't know what is happening, but I know I want you so much. Every inch of me craves for you, and I lost all control over my own self when it comes to you to the point I can't sleep at night, eat, or think straight. I've never felt like this before, about anyone. And we're best friends. I have no right…" The guilt caged your voice.
The silence on his side was crushing. That was the end. You had nothing to lose.
You took a deep breath, "That's why I've avoided you and purposely ignored you. I have to stay away, Yunho. For both of our sakes."
You heard him taking a few deep breaths.
"Why didn't you just tell me?" Somehow, his voice bore the accusation.
"I was scared of rejection." You chuckled at your miserable position. "The girls laughed that I sounded absolutely obsessed when I told them about this. They said they were only joking, but I started wondering and got scared. What if I am? You asked if you scared me with something. You didn't. I'm scared of myself. Because…no one sane acts like that. No one sane falls in love with their friend."
As you finished the confession, you dared to look his way. Your eyes got used to the dark, and you managed to see his darkened features.
The left side of his face was slightly illuminated by the dim light coming from the living room. You were watched intensively as he was eyeing you up.
His upper body was leaned forward, his arms resting on his spread knees. He looked…disappointed? Angry? You couldn't really tell. However, his deep breathing betrayed that the chaos you let out in indeed affected him.
The question was how would he accept what you brought upon him.
"I'm sorry." You breathed out on the edge of crying. You felt awful by ruining your amazing friendship. "Truly."
He submerged his finger in his damp fuzzy hair and then proceeded to wipe his face. He seemed deep in thought. You watched how he stroked his thighs a few times before standing up.
"Yunho…" you gulped, seeing him closing the distance between you.
He was getting dangerously close.
"Please, stop."
The man listened to your command. Still, he halted only half a meter from you. Yunho gave you a second to calm down, let your guard down, therefore you had no time for reaction as his arm suddenly reached out for your hand, grabbing your wrist firmly, and began pulling you close to him.
You quietly whimpered, trying to twist your hand out of his grasp, but there was no use. He mercilessly dragged you until your bodies met.
You couldn't look up, not with all the panic thriving inside you. However, he did not mean to stop. You felt his finger underneath your chin, and suddenly, you found yourself looking in his eyes that shone with a new light in the dark room.
"I would never reject you." He let out a firm but gentle whisper. "What do you think that I came here for? To fight for you."
The bangs of his wet hair tickled your forehead. He stood so close to you like he only ever did in your intrusive thoughts and uncontrolled fantasies. You had no choice but to let his scent of cologne and rain embrace you from all sides.
"And if you really think that it's an obsession, don't worry." He spoke again, this time his voice was hoarse as he struggled to speak, his thumb and eyes now wandering around your half opened lips. "I'll take all of it."
The touch of his lips was more than you imagined. You whimpered into his mouth, at which he responded with a smile. You fought not to push him away from the intensity of your surprise. Everything was happening too fast and not how you had seen it in your head for uncountable times when thinking about the face-off.
Yunho kissed you slowly as if he was giving you time to get used to his touch and his taste. He let go of your wrist, and after gently putting your arm around his neck, he carefully wrapped your waist. His other hand moved from your chin on the side of your head. The embrace tightened.
You couldn't say you just allowed him to pull you close to him. You were like a ragdoll. The rollercoaster of severe emotions took away your will to move. He could’ve done anything he wanted to do to you, placed you anywhere he needed you to be. You were completely frozen.
Yunho was considerate of your state and didn’t want to push you. He broke the kiss and pulled his head back to look at you with a slight smile that showed understanding.
"Do you want me to leave you alone? If you need time and talk about it once you’re ready, I’ll wait." He assured you, the gentleness in his tone making your heart flutter. "I’ll wait as long as you need me to."
"I– I don’t know." You stuttered, no volume to your weak voice. "W– what would you want?:
"Can I be indecently honest?"
You nodded, the hope sparking in your heart.
"I want to stay. I missed you so much. For the past months, whenever we met, I felt like you were light years away despite you standing right beside me. So I want to kiss all your doubts and fears away so we both never feel that way again. I want to hold you close, taste you. I want to relearn my name as you moan it all night long. I want you. I've wanted you for so long." He flooded you with the confession that held much more fire and confidence than yours from a minute ago.
You trembled in his arms, grabbing more onto his shirt at his back as he wiped away a single tear that managed to escape and roll on your redden cheek. It felt like a dream, and you felt the familiar anxiety of the moment you would have to wake up as it happened all the time before.
After all these months of pain from keeping yourself away from the man you've been falling in love with, feeling like he was slipping through your hands with your own help, you were a shadow of a woman. You were a ruin.
"What’s your decision?"
But the will to fix everything that was broken smoldered inside you, and you felt that with the right blow of wind, it would turn into impressive flames.
"Stay."
He quickly groaned at your allowance, and your faces got close again. Both his arms now embraced your waist and back.
"Of all the things I just said, which one do you want me to do the most?" He asked, his lips brushing yours.
"Everything." You breathed out without hesitation. Experiencing the long yearning, you needed to feel everything, from innocence to obscene.
Your lips interlocked again, but this time, nothing tamed you for kissing him back as you had always desired.
With every breath between, the kiss was getting hotter, wetter. Your tongues twirled in a wild dance, teeth hooking on each other's lips. With quiet whimpers and moans, you drove each other crazy.
His damp hair was tangled in your inpatient fingers that massaged the back of his head and neck. He moaned in your lips from the affection. The sweet adlip instantly woke up the aching between your legs.
You felt the wall behind your back again. One of his arms left your waist and was placed above your head.
He broke the kiss, "You really thought that Bona's confession meant anything to me?" He panted, his half closed eyes never leaving your lips.
So he found the answer. He did mention he studied all three months of your random change.
"I didn't know what it meant to you. I was too scared to think about it. It just made me realize my feelings for you, and I feared for our friendship."
"And your solution to save our friendship was to stay away?"
"I'm sorry."
He clenched his jaw, and that alone was enough to double your already crazy heart rate. His eyes were pitch black, his brows frowned.
"It makes me really angry." He groaned. "To think your first thought was that I would reject you. That you asked yourself that tough question and saw no hope. That you went for the wrong answer. As if I ever gave you a reason to doubt."
"I'm sorry."
"It's me who's sorry, (y/n)."
You moaned at the speed he attacked your lips again. He didn't graced them for long with his unsatisfied affection as he moved onto your jaw, then sensitive neck.
You felt how his body pinned you to the wall. With the power he pushed into you, he picked you up. You were gasping for air from the waves of pleasure shaking your body as his hungry mouth kissed, licked, and bit on your skin.
"You always smell so fucking good." He cooed sultry, placing his hands under your ass, forcing you to put your legs onto his hips.
He pushed himself with you in his arm off the wall and began walking you two to your bed.
You were released from his tight embrace and let him push you on the sheets. With aw, you watched him remove his shirt, putting his beautifully shaped torso and abs on display.
"Now's your turn." He snarled.
His hands went down to your cotton, loose shirt, and ripped it apart with one pull. Your bare breasts bounced free. You only now remembered you had no bra on.
"Yunho–"
But he didn't care about your surprise. He just gently laid on your side, supporting his weight on his elbow. His chest rubbed on your right breast in a slow massage that had you wave underneath him.
"Goddamn it, (y/n)."
His hand embraced your neck, giving it a little squeeze. You watched it going down to your chest, between your naked breasts, and then lower on your stomach where his wrist twisted to go south. Now, you had his long fingers getting dangerously close to your throbbing folds.
You grabbed the sheets at the touch of his fingertip.
"Ahh.."
"I'm not the one who's getting soaked tonight." He smirked watching how your wetness spread underneath your leggings as his middle finger circled on your clit.
He wanted more, your loud moans too accompanying your flooding nectar. Two fingers decisively entered your pussy as the thumb worked on your pearl.
"Oh my…" you whined, arching your back.
To make your torture more difficult, he leaned his lips to your ear and began feeding your mind with the obscene.
"You're always so wet when I'm on your mind, kitten? Do your fingers fuck this dripping cunt like mine are now when your all alone?" He whispered, his breaths tickling your neck, "I can assure you, I walk hard all day because of you."
The image of him stroking himself fast, rough while moaning your name was a perfect way to bring you closer to the edge as his fingers now fucked you with a full speed.
"Yes." He grunted, satisfied with your whimpers and trembling pelvis. "Cum for me."
Yunho drank the sweetest sounds of euphoria from your lips. Your cute moans were like ambrosis for his ears. He craved for more, his soul, heart, and ego demanded more.
He sucked on the skin of your neck as his hand massaged the last ounces of orgasm from you.
"I dreamed of this so many times (y/n) – my fingers, all sticky and wet from your juices."
"Yunho…" you begged. "Please."
The yearning for him or his words along with skillful touch; you couldn't tell, but something was making you lose your sanity way too fast.
Yunho smug eyes began reading your needs. He just licked his lips before walking away to let the room bask in light again.
With the cover of the dark, you felt more secure. Now you laid there, feeling like there were hundreds of eyes watching you, even though the only person in the room with you was Yunho, who just nonchalantly stood there; one hand on the light switch, and the other, that just were inside you, on his sticked out tongue.
Unconsciously, you began closing your legs, putting hands over your chest, but he was quick to stop you.
He agility climbed on to you. Now you had his weight pinning you down, his slim pelvis between your thighs and his hands holding your hands about your head.
"Don't you even hide from me again." He warned you, looking you deep in the eyes.
His arm found its way under you, and with one pull, he moved you further up the bed before he raised himself and sat on his hills.
"I forgot to ask before ripping off your shirt," he smiled adorably, "but do you cherish your leggings?"
Knowing what was coming and feeling more than just excited about it, you shook your head.
Your soaked leggings and underwear shared the same fate as your shirt. With no hesitation, Yunho grabbed them in his fingers and ripped them apart.
You felt the cold licking your dripping slit, wishing it was that man's tongue.
"I had to turn the light back on." He grinned while studying your quivering folds. "I had to see it in detail."
His brow raised, and his eyes became absent as if they recalled something, a thought he cherished.
"I'm genuinely unable to count how many nights I imagined your taste." He voiced it. "How would you feel on my tongue. So soft and warm."
You shivered at those words. The way he said it, the way he watched you with almost worship… Yunho finally found himself on the spot he longed to be for many months.
"It's all yours." You whimpered.
He looked in your eyes again, searching for a bluff, but he was visibly relieved to see your genuine, needy expression.
"Put your pretty ass up for me, please."
You did what you were told, getting rid of the shirt, well now its shreds. Arching your back as your upper body stretched on the bed, you stuck your slightly circling butt towards him.
A gasp left your mouth as the smack landed on your plump cheek. It was sudden but more than welcomed.
"Somehow, I've always known you're filthy." He snickered, clearly glad of your reaction.
"There are a lot of things you have not found out about me yet." You uttered, biting your lip with a smile.
You flinched from another hit that left a stingy feeling and added another flood of your juices between your thighs. There was no option to not let the moan escape your chords.
"I can say the same about you." He growled as if you were about to learn something forbidden.
You felt how he grabbed your ripped leggings and slid it off your hips, down to your knees.
The warmth of his tongue almost made you cry. You grabbed the sheet between your teeth. Slow, but firm licks were meant to have you beg in a second. However, your taste was too much for Yunho to play the game of teasing any further.
He spread your cheeks and dived in deeper.
The man put his whole spirit to savor you with the way his tongue lapped on your folds, latched on your quivering core. He fed on your uninhibited wails that Yunho could swear were a balm to his heart that almost got broken today if you had not opened the door.
He now knew you were his, the same way he belonged to you. Completely. Equal in this healthy obsession.
The essence on his lips worked like the best aphrodisiac for his nature. He wanted to have you loud in pleasure, trembling in ecstasy. For a moment, he craved to control all over your being. Just so you could feel loved, desired, and perfect. So you could see yourself through his eyes.
His tongue found its way inside you. It was sudden, unexpected but more than appreciated.
"Ahh, yes." You hissed, the sheet ripping in your fists.
Yunho shifted his position to have better access to you. Your eyes rolled back at the depth he was penetrating you with. Long, skillfully muscle waved and curled within your walls.
His thumb began drawing circles around your upper hole. Gently, hesitant at first, but your appreciation for his tease made him brave enough to go inside.
With his tongue and thumb sunk inside, Yunho was at the finish of shaping a devastating orgasm for you.
Your face twisted with unbearable pleasure. Moans sent his way were full of gratitude and admiration for his mastery. For a few moments this man managed to make you feel like flying, see the stars above.
He abandoned your holes when he felt the last shreds of bliss left you. You fell flat on your bed, trying to bring yourself down on earth.
Yunho took his time to climb up your spine with juicy kisses, at the same time getting rid of his pants and underwear.
"Yunho." You called him between deep breaths to calm yourself down.
"Yes, beautiful?' He planted a kiss on your shoulder.
You touched his arm.
"Claim me."
He froze above you. You only felt his hot breath on the back of your neck. Somehow, it had you alerted.
You slowly turned on your back, still caged between his arms. His eyes were dark, full of unknown, to you, thoughts. Maybe what you needed from him sounded too much of a commitment. You confessed your feelings. You made him aware of your love. Yet…he didn't say anything back. Only that he wanted you.
"Will you?" You asked quietly, too scared to put any volume to not scare him away or worse, make him realize it was a mistake.
Still with this mysterious expression, he laid onto you, skin to skin. Your faces so close, you could see your reflection in his eyes.
"Like my life depends on it." He said into your lips, tone heavy with sweet threat. "In fact, it does."
You interlocked in a kiss that felt like a seal to what just occurred rather than simple affection. He kissed you deeply, desperately, but most of all you sensed a gratitude.
His velvet hardness began grinding on your sensitive spot with subtle yet decisive moves, lubricating his length with your wetness in the process.
You broke the kiss from all the air leaving your lungs. He was hard, hot against your skin, begging to enter you. And your pussy cramped at the pleas, more violently each second.
"Please."
He put his forehead to yours. Took a few deep breaths before he finally said:
"I love you."
Only then he allowed himself to push inside.
The words you had wanted to hear for so long and the soul easing fullness have tears falling from your eyes. He groaned at your tightness that engulfed him and spasmed around him. The warmth and your nectars embraced him whole.
You gasped loudly as he moved further, concurring more inches of your inferior. Yunho was exactly how you imagined him to be. Long and thick, with popping veins that rubbed on your walls. You moaned, whined, and squirmed with every push and pull.
"Can I go faster?" He wiped your tears of joy away.
"Yes." You panted. "You can now."
After a slow pull, he pinned into you with power, having you gasp in sudden pleasure.
He leaned on the side, now nuzzling your ear.
"You're taking me so well. I knew you would." He whispered, and if all your nerves weren't already awakened, now they were.
The pace fastened. He was taking you, fully almost possessive. He went deep, attacking your sweet spot with even but strong hits. The sound you made bordered with sobbing.
He raised up on his knees, now straddling your leg. The other one ended up over his shoulder. Only when he re‐entered you, you realized why he chose such a position. He reached depths you didn't know anyone could.
"Fuck." You cried out.
Yunho fucked you however he felt fit, placing kissing on your inner thighs as he hugged your leg while doing it. He winded and whirled his hips as he thrusted inside your defenseless cunt.
The release was approaching with no mercy.
"I'm so close." You grabbed his muscular thigh with both hands.
"I know, baby. I know." He moaned as your walls' texture rubbed onto him even more now that you were almost orgasming. You cramped around him, sucking his width unforgivably.
"Fill me in, please. I need your cum inside me." You couldn’t help but beg when the speed and force he was obliterating you with was too overwhelming. You had to have him burst inside. It was what you mean by claiming you, owning you.
He cursed loudly and leaned over, shifting his weight on his arms.
"You have no idea what you've just started."
The new position allowed the man to put on even more speed and power, pushing you off the cliff, straight to the void of the most heavenly bliss.
The euphoria embraced you from all sides. A flow of your juices flooded his cock, making it harder, too hard to not to explode.
"Oh fuck, yes." He whined and soon joined you in ecstasy. He pumped inside with low grunts leaving his throat, and you melted over the feeling of hot load, every last drop nourishing every corner of you.
He slid out after a few soothing pushes, followed by his semen. Yunho didn't have to watch this physical proof he claimed you. He knew you all his. He just lowered down and caught your weak frame in a tight, warm embrace.
Both calmed yourselves down by inhaling your scents, so familiar yet so new.
His eyes when he finally landed at you were smiling, all dreamy. You knew what Yunho's happy face looked like, and it was all plastered on his features right now.
You felt like your heart was about to burst out of your chest at the sight. He was happy because of you. You made him this joyful.
"You love me." You slipped. The excitement and emotion didn't allow you to keep quiet.
He kissed you and kept smiling.
"You have no idea."
You didn't hide this time when Yunho watched you as if he learned your details by heart. You wanted him to see the woman and all her love she got for him.
"Come." He said and got off the bed. "We both need a long and hot shower."
"Soaking again?" You giggled lazily, admiring this Adonis of a man that now stood in front of you in all his glory. You bit your lips at the view of his glistening pride, knowing it all was for you to love and pleasure.
Seeing your eyes wandering all over him, Yunho couldn't help but smirk at your bluntness. He then leaned over to kiss your forehead.
"Better get used to it."
You realized how stupid you were to think you could live without his melodic laugh.
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atozfic · 7 months
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splish splash.
pairing. san x seonghwa x wooyoung x yunho x fem!reader synopsis. they’re out to prove who’s the best at the breast-stroke- gets dragged off stage as the people boo over such a terrible pun. warnings. no use of y/n, swim team au, lifeguard!reader, pro-swimmers!sanhwawooho, they’re all wearing speedos :), smut ( porn with unnecesary plot, degradation, m+f oral sex, piv sex, anal sex, double penetration, triple penetration bc u got 3 holes for a reason sweetcheeks, mxm interactions, dom/sub dynamics, spanking, hair pulling, way more warnings that there’s honestly no point listing, just know this is pure filth that covers most bases of stereotypical fanfiction smut, mother in christ what have i written? ) no verbal consent is given throughout this but all parties are willing participants !! word count. 20k+ ( of literal porn. i need to leave this physical terrain bc i am not worthy of existing after writing this i fear. ) hyde’s input. hey girlie pops, long time no see.
it’s crazy, what some people will do for money.
take, for example, your roommate. she’s a smart girl. a beautiful one, too. with a promising future in criminal law, once she gets herself that pesky little degree. and, yet, she’s funding her tuition with money she earns distributing high-end drugs on campus. rather counter-productive, most would agree. or, in a far less extreme version, there’s that overly-hyper frat boy, who can always be found doing the dumbest dares at a party, all for a few bucks and a keg of beer.
and then there is you.
you would have arrived home twenty minutes ago at this point, had things gone to plan, a backlog of neglected assignments and a baby bonsai tree in need of watering desperately awaiting your return. yet here you are, stuck in your ugly flip-flops and uncomfortably stale shorts, whistle around your neck and a look of exhaustion on your face.
the swimming pool had closed, technically, an hour and a half ago. the sports centre seems to believe, however, that certain members of the college swim team reserve the right to use the pool for however long they require and desire, even if it is at your expense. if you were being paid overtime, perhaps you’d have a more positive outlook on things and less of a frown creasing on your forehead.
if the swimmers weren’t so irritating, maybe you’d enjoy the view.
“all that height, and for what?” the sophomore boy’s voice- jung wooyoung? you aren’t overly familiar with him, seeing him only in sporadic flashes when you pass each other on campus or at some uncivilised frat party- echos through the large room, his hair a wet mess. if you were gaining anything from being here, you’d perhaps muster up the energy to remind the boy of how a swim cap is necessary at all times in the water. “can’t even out-swim me with those long legs!”
“wanna know what my long legs are for?” jeong yunho, a junior with the face of an angel and the body proportions of a sinner, pipes up from across the olympic length pool. unlike the other boy, a crimson cap keeps his own locks out of sight. “climbing up the stairs to go fuck your mom!”
it’s impossible to stifle your laughter, no matter how hard you try to just play it off as a tickle at the back of your throat, a cough forcing its way out. when your eyes meet those of the glaring senior, however, you’re wishing you hadn’t made a sound.
“even the lifeguard can’t take you seriously, yunho,” park seonghwa speaks, eyes not leaving yours as his muscled arms work to pull himself out of the water, before letting his well-rounded behind sit down on the edge. a breath hitches in your throat as his gloriously muscled thighs come into view, drops of water cascading down them in a pattern set to hypnotise you, keep you staring a little longer than is good for your health. “bet she’s heard all about you and the boner incident of 2019.”
truthfully, you have no clue what the dark haired male is on about. that doesn’t stop you from laughing again though, this time a little out of malice and a lot because it’s quite endearing to see a loudmouth like jeong yunho be silenced so easily, head bowed and ears a little rosier with embarrassment.
this small moment of peace is soon shattered by the reality that these boys can’t spend more than ten minutes in a room- particularly one that includes a pool- without arguing. while one boasts about his speed, the other begins to jab at his lack of endurance, and the remaining of the three reminds them all of the fact he holds the most medals amongst them.
“are they always like this?” you jump, surprised by the cold drop of water that lands on your exposed thigh, all courtesy of the boy who’s invited himself to sit down next to you on the bench.
“not always,” you bite at the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to not look at san in all his wet glory. you’re afraid that, once you start looking at him, you won’t be able to stop. it wouldn’t be the first time you’ve fallen victim to the crime that is his enchanting smile. “guess they’re feeling a little feistier than usual, with the district championship just around the corner. rumour has it one of you guys is risking his scholarship if he’s not in the top three.”
are you and san close?
that’s a good question. see, by social standards, you’re not strangers. you share several classes, you attend the same parties, you’ve even texted a few times- mostly on the days one of you miss class (read as: san misses class thanks to his swim-meets) and you need a copy of any notes taken that lesson.
but, you aren’t exactly friends either. you don’t go out of your ways to spend time together, you don’t know more than the surface level about one another, you don’t check-in with each other.
so, is acquaintances the best word to describe you two?
that depends on how common it is for an acquaintance to suck another acquaintance’s cock. granted, there had been a lot of alcohol in the mix, on both ends, with you drinking to forget a botched assignment and san drinking to forget how badly his voice had apparently cracked in front of his crush.
a few weeks have passed since the incident and things haven’t exactly been the same. you’ve missed class twice and ended up contacting heather- a sweet girl who sits down by the front and seems to live with her hand raised in the air- for any notes. likewise, san has found himself declining party invitations, the knowledge that you would be there all too prevalent in the front of his mind.
the irony is that neither of you quite know the reason why you’re avoiding each other, you just are.
or, were, until san had walked in with his swim team buddies- if they could even be considered that- and spotted you in your lifeguard attire. he hadn’t been as slick as he thought he was, sneaking glances at you between laps and even gaining an undeniable smile each time he watched you blow that stupid whistle at some misbehaving kids.
he was slicker with the fact he didn’t need to be here, at this hour. but, he figured staying gave him the chance to stare at you a little longer and, maybe, think up an excuse to talk to you.
“i should-”
“i missed-”
you both speak at the same time, minutes after watching the three musketeers disappear into the locker rooms, with the smallest of them continuing to dig at them for not being able to out-swim him despite their ample amount of height. san’s quick to signal you to go first, a dimple making itself known on his face and reminding you of the deadliest part of him: the false innocence that drips off him like warm candy.
sweet, sticky, making a mess all over the place.
“i should probably start cleaning up.” it turns out san also isn’t discreet when it comes to hiding the disappointment in his face, because no sooner than those words leave your mouth, the dimple is gone and he’s sat a little straighter, a little more ridged, like when the professor points him out in the middle of the class and the golden boy can’t stomach all the attention being on him. “but, what were you gonna say?”
“oh,” and it’s like he’s just remembered that yes, there is something he wants to say. “i missed you in class yesterday.”
it catches you off guard, leaving you to almost drop the whistle you’ve been fiddling between your fingers for the past few minutes. something about sitting so close to him while both of you are dressed so scantily has you feeling unnerved, like you need to run away as fast as possible, yet also wanting to plant yourself right in his lap.
“i didn’t think,” you’re cut off by your own throat, dry and desperate for a drink under his intense gaze. san is a walking contradiction, you think, with his sharp cheekbones and soft heart, his intense eyes and his easy-going smile. his presence gives you never-ending whiplash, never sure if he’s more angel than devil. “i didn’t think you noticed.”
“how could i not? there was no one to laugh with me at professor nam and his weird toe-shoes!” his laugh is infectious, willing your own to make an appearance. 
the sound of distant muffled yelling fills the air of the swimming pool and it isn’t hard to recognise wooyoung’s high-pitched laughter amongst it. clearly, their childish arguing has carried on into the changing rooms. it surprises you in no way, already more than used to their antics.
their rivalry is one for the ages, all of them constantly bumping heads for the spot of the top swimmer on campus, their sports scholarships becoming their pride and joy.
you suppose it doesn’t help that all four boys run in different circles, only really crossing paths when faced with swim-meets and days of practice. the senior, park seonghwa, runs with the richer kids of the college, all sharing their trust-funds and god complexes as a common interest. you’re not overly familiar with them, though you’re certain he and a particular blue-haired boy are rarely seen apart. jeong yunho, the tallest, is in with the jocks, which is mostly just because his taller friend is the captain of the basketball team. and jung wooyoung tends to surround himself with the stoners from the school, something you’d learned from kang yeosang, a dealer you shared a couple classes with back in your first semester.
san, ever the golden boy, drifts between a couple different groups but he can usually be found alone and enjoying his own company, if not being followed by a flock of his own little fan-club, men and women alike begging for just an ounce of his time.
your name echos around the room. your head snaps to the side and you find that san is now closer, staring at you in a way that’s making your insides knot up. you’ve seen that look only once before, and it done nothing but leave your knees and your ego bruised. “were you listening to me?”
“what? uh, yeah, i was,” you’re quick to lie, knowing it’s about to backfire when he breaks out in a challenging grin.
“really? what did i say?” he only allows you to stumble over words for a minute before cutting off your incomprehensible speaking when he grabs at your chin and tilts your head up, staring straight into your eyes. “that’s what i thought. you were too busy getting lost in that pretty little head of yours to pay attention to me.”
you stutter over a noise and settle for that as your response, though entirely incomprehensible and nonsensical. the way he continues to stare at you feels cruel, demons dancing around in those pretty eyes of his. demons that are telling him to tease, torture, torment the fragile eyes staring back at him, the same ones he’d delighted in watching fill up with tears a few weeks back, the pressure of his crown slamming against the back of your tight throat entirely overwhelming you to the point of crying, tears dripping down your cheeks and mixing with your own drool pooling over the swell of his balls.
“need me to repeat myself?” you’re slow to catch up to the fact he’s speaking again, and even slower to notice the hand resting on your knee. at first, you think you’re imagining things, the feather light tracing of nails over your soft skin a mere figment of your imagination. but, no, your eyes flash down to glimpse and his hand is there, fingers dancing over your naked skin like it’s their own personal stage and he’s intending to put on the show of a lifetime. he speaks your name. “questions are meant to be answered.”
“i-” san picks the perfect time to apply pressure on you, hand gripping the flesh on the lower end of your thigh. goosebumps spring to life at the feeling of his cold ring on your damp skin. it takes a shaky breath to try compose yourself but you do eventually manage to get a reply out. “sorry... please say it again.”
“huh,” he pauses to contemplate, slowly leaning his face closer to your own, giving you all the time to pull back if you want to. you stay still and his minty breath infects your senses while the hand on your leg replaces your thigh with your face, the grip he has on it forcing blunt nails to nip at your skin. normally, you’d worry about the marks it’s going to leave behind. right now, you want him to grip tighter, dig deeper into your flesh till he’s drawing blood and licking it off your cheeks. “how the fuck do you still sound so cute begging?”
“is that,” his other hand curls around the back of you, finding a resting place on your hip. the window of opportunity you once had to pull back or run away is slammed shut the moment he tugs you a little closer, the side of your body crashing into his naked chest. “what you said earlier?”
“oh, no.” san almost sounds like he’s cooing, a mocking tone in his voice that has your thighs clenching in a way you’re sure he notices. his eye flickering down to glance at them confirms your suspicions, the smirk taking over his features the metaphorical cherry on top. “i was just talking about how i’ve still not returned the favour.”
mind blanking out on you, you stare back at him in what you can only imagine to be a dumb-founded look, mouth slightly agape and teasing your answer.
what follows, however, is a resounding silence on your end.
“c’mon, princess, don’t tell me you’ve forgotten what happened the last time i got you alone.”
forget? it’s all you’ve been able to think of every time you’ve seen him since, whether he was a figure in the corner of your eye during class or making his way down the campus car-park in search of his beaten up mustang.
each time, like an old record player, your mind plays on loop the way he looked staring down at you, long legs spread enough to fit you between them, closing in on you to trap you in place each time you swallowed him a little deeper; replaying the symphony of whiny moans and airy breaths you’d pulled from him, lips swollen and red from trying too hard to hold back his cries of pleasure; reviving the memory of his vice grip on your hair, tugging at the roots to tilt you back into the perfect angle for his hips to piston into your warm mouth, meeting his own crescendo in one final pathetic whimper of your name.
a whimper that’s pushed you over the edge several times since, fingers soaked in your own sins and mouth biting down on your pillow to keep your poor sleeping roommate oblivious to your actions.
“no,” an answer escapes you alongside a shaky breath, something about the way he’s slowly trailing his fingers down your neck and the intensity he’s staring at you with hypnotising you into forgetting all about the boisterous boys and their changing-rooms chanting. “haven’t forgot.”
it’s his turn to stay quiet and you begin to wonder if he’s recalling it too, if he’s reminding himself of how easily your bodies melted together, like candle-wax meeting a flame. the question of if he’s thought about the exact scene, hands stuffed down his pants while a dull ache builds in his wrist, burns the tip of your tongue.
but his eyes burn you more.
they’re usually wide, bright, full of that bubbly nature san is known all over for. but, if what people say is true and the eyes are the mirror to one’s soul, then san’s soul must be a dark pit made up of lustful glares and hooded eyelids, resting so low his eyes almost appear shut.
“then, don’t you agree that it’s my turn to have a taste?”
it’s the question to end all questions, no time to even think of forming an answer when his fingertips are dancing over your skin so rhythmically, like a practiced choreography when they curl and wrap themselves around your neck. they rest there for a heartbeat, and then another, before you feel it begin.
the pressure is dull, at first, and you think you’re imagining it. but it grows, like a seed under the sun, blossoms into thorns squeezing around your airways, a deformed rose made from the red marks his fingers will be sure to leave behind.
you try to breath in, only for it to get caught somewhere between your lips and his tightening hold.
“you’re too fucking pretty, you know?” the hand on your hip has found a new home on your cheek, palm warm and thumb rough as he swipes it over your bottom lip. “all i can ever think about around you, even when you were drooling all over my balls.”
you want to answer, you really do. but between the hand around your throat and the heat shooting straight for your core, burning up in a puddle of arousal, you can’t. all you can do is watch the man before you, raven hair a beautiful mess just begging for some fingers to be ran through it and stare promising to ruin you in the best way possible.
the silence pleases him.
“y’know, it’s so hard to get you alone. always got someone wanting to talk to you, stealing your attention. do you even know how many stupid parties i had to attend to finally get the chance to talk to you?” san pauses, like he’s waiting for you to relay an answer, guess a number. he loosens up the grip on your neck, teasing your skin with a few soothing strokes of his slender fingers, lulling you into a state bordering insanity. “no answer, angel? or are you lost in that pretty little head again?”
“i’m,” your voice is but a whisper, raspy with your new found thirst. “trying to figure out what you want from me.”
if it’s the wrong or right thing to say, you’re soon to find out, the sharp faced boy releasing a dangerously low chuckle as he takes a hold of your chin. like a pretty doll, you move any time and any way his fingers command you to, finding yourself staring right up into his eyes, a swirl of melting caramel that reminds you of how sweet yet sultry every inch of him is. lips near touching, he refuses to break eye contact as he speaks up once more, sealing both your fates when his breath hits your face.
“then let me show you what i want.”
his mouth comes down on yours like it’s the answers to all your prayers and, yet, all your nightmares.
it excites you how easily he works his lips over your own, captivating every inch of you when he tilts his head to the right and deepens the kiss. the rhythm to his kiss is a mismatch of beats, where one moment your lips are moving in a sensual waltz, grazing tongues and dipping heads to get rid of that inch of a space remaining between your bodies, and the next moment your tongues are tangled in a tango, the kind where his teeth send blood rushing to your lips with every bite he drags over them and his hand drags shivers down your spine as it makes its way down your body.
yet it terrifies you how willingly you succumb to san’s touch, intoxicated by whatever witchcraft he currently holds over you. there’s a deadliness to the way his lips part from your own only to begin a seamless descent down your jaw and the expanse of your neck, a poisonous element to the way his hand once again finds itself clutching the meat of your thigh.
the moment his fingertips meet the bottom of your shorts, you’re wishing you’d never slipped them on in the first place, every fibre of your being growing angsty under the weight of his suddenly halted hand. it stays still for an immeasurable amount of time, grazing over the bottom of your shorts occasionally while he continues to mouth at your neck.
like mosses and the great sea, san parts your legs with little to no effort, creating a pathway for his fingers to travel further up your thigh. blunt fingernails drag up your skin, a trail of goosebumps being left behind, a visible marking of where he’s touching you.
his movements halt too soon for your liking, too much distance between his lithe fingers and your body’s very core.
“have you figured out what i want yet, pretty?” his voice is a stark difference to the usual light-hearted, almost squeak-like tone you’ve grown used to hearing from the smiley boy. right now, there’s no trace of humour in the thick rasp and there’s no time for smiling while he’s glaring down at you through hooded eyes.
something compels you to nod your head, even though you’re a little too lost in the thoughts concerning what you want, rather than what the devil incarnate by your side wants.
“you have?” the words come out in a layer of amazement, and you have to wonder if it’s because of the lie you’ve just told or the way your legs have closed in around his hand, trapping it between them. “i want to know what you want, though.”
you want his thumb to stop stroking over the flesh of your inner thigh.
you want his eyes to stop gazing down at you like you’re the perfect prey.
you want him to stop teetering your impending pleasure on a string.
you want-
“you.” is all you manage to breath out.
it seems to do the trick, however, your point getting very much across to him. a softness flickers over his features, brows unfurling and smirk curling up into a full smile for what feels like an eternity, but is actually no more than a couple of seconds before his devilish aura is back.
lips meet lips again, the desperation and force behind each stroke of his tongue against yours the same as before. san, much to your delight, seems to grow just as impatient as you’ve been since the moment he welcomed himself into the empty space next to you on the bench.
one hand still resting between your thighs, his other seizes the opportunity to drag your body closer, so close that you have no choice but to swing one leg over him and slot yourself in his lap.
there was one time, in the middle of what you’ve deemed to be the most boring lecture ever, that you had thought about what it would feel like to sit in choi san’s lap. unintentionally, of course, for how could anyone look over at him in those grey sweatpants, legs manspreading like it was nobody’s business and pen tapping away at the table in front of him, and not daydream about being perched in his lap, head resting somewhere between his shoulder and his soft hair?
you’d imagined him to be the embodiment of soft and comfortable, warm and reassuring the way he’d lazily lay an arm over your hip to make sure there’s no risk of you slipping out of your new seat. you never, for the life of you, imagined you’d feel the outline of his dick resting against your ass the first time you finally claimed your throne.
choosing to not dwell on the heavy feeling of him pressed against you, you choose instead to focus on the way his lips trail away from yours and make their descent towards the top of your chest.
his hand abandons post between your thighs and rises to the surface, where long fingers begin to pull at the straps of your red swimsuit, successfully manoeuvring the nylon material till it’s bunched around your midriff and your breasts are exposed to the damp air of the swimming hall. 
with no want left to play around, he dives right in to dragging his lips down the upper swell of your left breast. you imagine he can feel the beating of your racing heart beneath the goosebump littered skin. it doesn’t take long for his tongue to enter the scene, skilfully flicking over your hardened nipple a couple times before enveloping his mouth around the bud.
one, two, three sucks and he’s moving on to your right breast. there’s no lead up, this time, simply his mouth finding delight in toying with your body while he busies his hand with your left side, thumb and pointer finger rolling and tugging and spreading the remnants of his saliva over your heated skin.
the straw that breaks the camel’s back, and has you arching your own, is the faintest pressure of his teeth biting down on you. it dances on a thin line between pleasurable and painful, exhilarating enough to make you throw your head back as a moan slips past your lips. it echoes in the empty room, replaying your own sound for both of you to hear again and again before the chain is broken by a giggle.
his giggle.
“why are,” he picks the right time to trail his fingers down your body, dragging your swimsuit with them till it sits uncomfortably tight around the top of your hipbones, skintight fabric digging into the damp skin. “you laughing?”
“has anyone ever told you how pretty your tits are?” it’s crude and heartwarming all at once, quite like the man who says it and the little smile he shoots up in your direction as he rolls his tongue over your nipple once again.
“no, i can’t say they have.” the hands that have been resting on his shoulder, grasping them in a vice grip in fear of slipping off of him and and directly onto the concrete floor, gain enough confidence for you let one slide around to the back of his neck and thread your fingertips in the back of his locks, hair as soft as you’ve always imagined it to be. “you’re the first.”
“i’ll wear that title with honour,” he seems to delight in the way you’re carding through his hair, eyes closing while he tilts his head back further into your touch. a delighted sigh follows. “has anyone ever asked you to sit on their face?”
“again, no.”
“another honourable title for me, i guess.” san’s giving you whiplash, with all this switching between being his usual goofy self and the man that minutes before was speaking profanities on how you’d looked choking on his dick. he peaks his eyes open again, slowly, adjusting to the bright lights he stares up at each time he’s doing the backstroke. when he has the nerves to smile at you, all dreamy eyed and relaxed sitting beneath your body on the bench. “now, can you please stand up and get naked so you can fuck yourself on my tongue?”
this time, it’s your laugh that echoes in the air.
“stop, i’m being serious!” he seems to whine his way through his words, bottom lip jutting out ever so slightly in a way you’re certain is going to drive you insane. “i can’t go another second like this, you literally sitting on my dick, without blowing my load. and i really don’t feel like having to explain to coach kwon why my team speedos are stained in cum.”
“you’re so-” you give up on trying to find a single word to describe him, knowing there’s no word that can quite capture choi san’s essence. “okay, okay, fine, but you kind of need to let go of me for me to, y’know, stand up.”
“oh, sorry bout that.” san’s sheepish smile shouldn’t be this cute, not when it’s followed by him removing his hands from your half-naked body.
reluctant, your feet meet the ground and you stand up from his lap. he seems to move quicker than you, no hesitation to be seen as he twists his body around and lays along the bench on his back, eyes all the while watching you expectantly.
your fingers are far from as nimble as his, and there’s a shake to them, meaning you’re a lot less slick with how you pull the swimsuit off yourself. you opt for killing two birds with one stone, dragging your shorts down alongside the red suit, till both are pooled around your feet and you’re begging with every cell in your body that you look more graceful than you feel, stepping out of the leg holes.
in all honesty, you’re more embarrassed with the fact he’d watched you remove your clothes than with how you’re now stood naked, legs a little shaky and the wetness gathering between your folds you’re suddenly so much more aware of, the cool air fighting against your pulsating heat.
“well?” san speaks with expectation, legs bent at the knee while the balls of his feet rest on the edge of the bench. “are you gonna just stand there or you gonna sit on my face?”
“are you... sure you want me to?” even you feel the idiocy behind asking such a thing, when he’s laying right there with eyes full of glee and a raging boner pressed against his hip, nothing but the familiar colours of your college to stop you from seeing him all his naked glory. still, you can’t help elaborating. “i mean, the bench isn’t exactly sturdy and, i mean, what if i slip off of you?”
“y/n, are you joking? you have to be joking!” his offence is playful enough to ease a little of the hesitation inside of you. “do you see these puppies, baby? these are my mad gains from flailing my silly little arms around in a pool six days a week!”
you think this can’t be real as you watch the golden boy of the school put on a show, flexing his arms in an effort to display his muscles and voicing the most ridiculous words that not even he seems to be taking seriously, a bubble of laughter popping in every sentence.
“i’m not gonna let you slip, now hurry up!” again with the whining.
“god, you’re so desperate!”
“for you? always.”
the following minute is made up of wobbled steps and a poor attempt at amping yourself up, repeating mantra after mantra in your head that you are the sex goddess and no man is going to make you feel nervous. not even if that man has a jaw one could slice diamonds with.
he’s got a firm grasp of your thighs before you’ve even got the chance to get comfortable, legs a little shaky as you hover over his naked chest and will your knees to find grip on the bench beneath them.
“come closer, my tongue’s not that long!” san’s pulling you up, closer, all the way to where his wanton mouth awaits you. as if to give you a preview of what awaits you, the kisses from before reduced to nothing, his tongue pops out to run over the smooth of his bottom lip. you repeat the process of trying to find balance, a position in which you don’t need to worry about toppling overboard. though, with the way his finger squeeze into your thigh, you doubt you’ll have to worry about that truly happening. “comfortable?”
“as i’ll ever be.”
“all the people that would die to be in your position, and you say that?” he tsks, tongue hitting off the roof of his mouth before a blow of air hits against your folds and, though it’s faint from the distance still between his mouth and where he wants it to be, it sends a jolt of excitement up your spine. “i’ll just have to make sure i over-perform, make you more eager for next time.”
neither of you choose to dwell on the words next time.
him, too occupied with getting his first taste, tongue licking a strip up your core and coming to a stop as the tip of it bumps against your clit.
you, too busy having the air knocked out of your lungs, hand unconsciously finding safety in gripping his hair as you lurch forward momentarily, mouth falling open in a quiet gasp that echoes around and around.
“hmm, make sure you hold on tight.” you know he’s teasing you, with his words, and with his eyes, and with his mouth that seems to find enjoyment in trailing itself over your clitoral hood and up your pubic bone. “you smell mouthwatering, you know? enough to make a man go feral.”
the chance to reply never comes, not when san makes his way back down to your clit and greets it with the stroke of his flattened tongue. every tiny nerve sparks to life under his touch and you feel yourself grow wetter, a wave of warm arousal leaking out of your hole. his tongue dives down to welcome it, not allowing more than a single drop- landing on his chin- to go to waste.
you don’t even notice the lack of his grip around your left leg until you feel it: the first few seconds of his fingertips probing around your soaked cunt, coating themselves in your liquid pleasure until it’s dripping down the back of his hand.
the first finger to enter your hole is gentle, tentative to the way your body receives him, his pointer and ring finger keeping your folds spread and allowing him the full view of the middle one slowly disappearing from sight, burying itself in the warmth of your pussy. distracted, his mouth pulls back and his head meets the bench again while his eyes soak in the sight above him, flickering up to catch your reaction when another finger enters you, this time with a lot less care as it forces you open around it.
“so pretty,” he mutters the words, more to himself than to you, delighting as he witnesses you struggling to bite back a pathetic moan when his digits curl within you. he repeats the action a couple times, flicking his wrist back and forth, fingers brushing over your tight walls each time and culminating in a curl that has him pressing against the spongy-like flesh inside. “so, so pretty.”
your hips begin to rut against his hand, meeting every one of his thrusts with perfect timing that has him reaching deeper, further, better places inside of you. all the while he’s just watching and admiring the furrow in your brow and the way the swells of your breast bounce in sync with you.
your pussy clenches tighter and his fingers fight to reach deeper before spreading themselves wider in an attempt to scissor you open. he’s giving it his all, a third finger slipping in despite the dull ache setting in his wrist while he coaxes you closer and closer to the tipping point.
san takes just as easy as he gives, and it’s that fact alone that drives him to pull his hand back, fingers withdrawing from you and the pleasure you’re pursuing.
“why’d you-” you heave through heavy breaths, brain fuzzy from the unvoiced orgasm you were so close to having, every nerve ready to tingle, every muscle ready to tremble, every toe ready to curl. “stop?”
“because,” the wet smack of his fingers hitting against your clit is louder than the whimper that drops from your mouth. san hears both, however, and grins, quickly landing another smack against your engorged clit. “the goal is to make you cum on my face, not my fingers. consider them the appetiser, something to awaken your senses.”
his tongue licks in an upward motion, starting from the tip of your taint and ending at your clit, and you get deja-vu to just minutes before, when you’d first felt his tongue on your melting skin, the saliva it leaves in a trail behind it serving to cool you down. a shiver runs up your spine as he blows air onto your cunt, the pressure of it doing wonders to stimulate your clit.
“would you stop?”
“look who’s whining now.” san, despite what he says, does as you ask and puts an end what feels like unending teasing- really, it’s hardly been a minute but the pulsing of your heat and the loss of a climax leave you no room to think about something as abstract as time.
his lips make a victorious return, wrapping themselves around your clit and sucking against the pulsing nub. every so often, he delivers a couple kitten licks- ups and downs, sides to sides, figure eights- before swiftly returning to kissing your most intimate parts.
in an attempt to make your toes curl, he dips lower and teases the tips of his tongue over your entrance, wet muscle moving over wet skin and tastebuds covering themselves in your essence, till the moans echoing off the walls are indistinguishable between san’s and your own.
“you can move,” he grunts into you after a few minutes of repeated alternating between kissing your clit and tonguing at your hole. it’s muffled with the way he’s holding you down against his face and you feel his lips brush against your lower ones as he speaks. “need you to move. wanna see you use me, pretty.”
and, who are you to deny the man?
you’re hesitant at first, just like you were all those weeks ago as you sank to your knees for him. you test the waters and give a single roll of your hips. it feels good, great, especially when paired with his own efforts at dragging his tongue over you.
it takes a few more attempts, and san’s patience wearing thin to the point he resorts to grabbing a firm hold of your arse cheeks and planting you flat on his mouth, tongue flat and eyes staring up at you in a demand to move, goddamn it. 
move you most certainly do, grinding down on his tongue like you’ve done many a time with different men’s cocks. it’s messy, sloppy in the way that his spit mingles with your wetness, a cocktail of fluids sliding down his throat, and painting his lips, and dribbling down his chin as he eats you like a man starved that’s alas getting a taste of the sweetest fruit.
the rhythm of your hips is thrown off when the man beneath you switches from having you grinding down onto his flattened tongue to slipping the muscle inside of your hole, thrusting it as far as up as the length of it allows him to. with every time your body comes crashing down on his mouth, the tip of his nose bumps against your clit, forcing you to angle yourself upwards to gain more of the friction.
hands find hair, lips part in unabashed moans, thighs shake with the oncoming of an orgasmic state of mind.
the moment builds too quickly, too unexpectedly, like the ghost of your stolen climax is back with a vengeance and set on ensuring there will be no denying it this time.
“s-shit,” your eyes squeeze shut, too scared to look down at his ecstasy filled eyes in fear of it being what finally tips you over the edge. “i’m gonna- ah- gonna cum.”
san pays no mind to your warning. if anything, he takes it as a challenge, an invisible timer beginning in his head and forcing him to see how quickly he can get you to unravel all over his face. he’s getting everything he asked for, your naked body a mess above him as you fuck yourself on his tongue and your hands, with minds of their own, sliding up to grab and squeeze at your tits.
he watches how the pastel blue nail polish clashes with the darkened colour of your abused nipples, fingers working to pinch, and twist, and pull at them as you lose yourself in the moment.
when you cum, it’s with rolled-back eyes and shaky thighs, his hands gripping at you tighter to steady you as you sway above him, his tongue working at coaxing you through your high.
he licks up every drop of cum he can manage, until you’re cringing in overstimulation and reaching down to push him away. he let’s you move him, mouth moving to trail a couple kisses over your inner thigh, something akin to lipstick stains- yet so much dirtier in nature- being left behind on your soft flesh.
“told you i wouldn’t let you fall,” he’s the first to speak, partly because he correctly thinks you’re incapable of forming anything coherent in the afterglow of your orgasm, but mostly because he wants- no, needs to hear you praise him.
needs to hear you praise him like he’d done for you that night, eyes still hooded and chest visibly heaving as he finished processing watching you swallow every spurt of hot cum he’d shot down your throat. the praise never comes.
well, at least not from you.
at first he thinks he’s imagining the sound of clapping. it’s slow, and booming, and tinted with the slightest hint of sarcasm. it grows louder though, far too loud for it to just be in his imagination. the stilling of your body, going rigid as you fall back onto his chest, the sticky remnants of your orgasm cold against his heated skin, confirms that you hear the clapping too.
“bravo, choi. always thought your reputation with the ladies was a little overhyped, but i stand corrected.”
never has he hated the sight of park seonghwa so much, not even in the times they’ve been head-to-head in the final lap and the older male’s offensively bright swim-cap is all san can see every time he twists his head to catch a breath of air.
the three swimmers stand on the opposite end of the swimming pool, all in various stages of undress.
there’s wooyoung, who looks like he’s not so much as dried himself with a towel, still dressed in his team swimwear. and yunho, who’s got a towel wrapped around his waist messily, hair damp against his forehead and likely smelling of the cheap shampoo provided in the locker-room showers. lastly, seonghwa, who’s seemingly fully dressed spar for one of those irritating long coats san always sees him trailing around campus in.
one look into your panicked eyes is enough for san to spring into action, fumbling to sit himself up and pull your body flush against his, facing your naked back in the direction of his rivals.
he bites back a groan as you shift in his lap, unknowingly- or maybe you do know- pressing your soaked centre against his erection, which already strains inside the confines of the nylon material, leaving very little to the imagination.
“do you mind?” he’s glad the words come out clearly, booming across the pool at them and their unwavering staring.
“not at all.”
san holds you tighter against him, eyeing at your discarded swimsuit on the floor as he listens to a shuffle of footsteps. assuming the three men have made their way back into the locker-room, he’s speechless when he looks up to find them approaching the bench, seonghwa leading the trio with a secure grip on the back of wooyoung’s neck, whose eyes can’t seem to leave the floor, while yunho trails a little behind them, one hand grasping onto the towel around him.
“get your hands off her!” he leans back, pulling you with him, in an attempt to stray out of seonghwa’s reach as he extends his hand out. he fails, however, and the tips of seonghwa’s elongated fingers brush over your shoulder.
a shiver runs down you, one that san feels, the unexpected touch tickling your nerves.
“she’s a grown up,” the eldest of the men muses as he builds a rhythm out of how his fingers soother over your sweat slicked skin. “who i’m sure can speak for herself if she wants my hands off her.”
out of all the men, seonghwa has always been the one san despised most. between the constant boasting of wealth- money he acquired through labor, though not the working kind- and the disrespect he’s never had a problem showing towards others, he never fails to strike a nerve, awakening a dark part of san’s brain that activates his fight or flight response. by far, however, his arrogance is the worst, that sense of entitlement that drives him to think everything and everyone is a piece of clay for him to mold and manipulate till they fit his ideal shape.
the rich boy’s hand smoothes over your naked shoulder and san can’t resist glaring up at him.
“c’mon san, now’s hardly the time to be modest,” behind the oldest swimmer, yunho and wooyoung seem to be battling an inner conflict, yunho fighting to keep his towel in place and wooyoung fighting to keep the shame off his face while his dick visibly strains against the confines of his chlorine-covered swimwear. “not after the show you two just put on.”
“we didn’t,” it’s the first time you manage to speak since covering san’s tongue in your cum, breathing at last steady and face hidden from everyone’s view, much to san’s despair. “know you were watching.”
“and, if you had known, would you have stopped?” yunho is the one asking the question and, suddenly, san’s so much more aware of what exactly he’s hiding underneath his towel.
you give no answer.
“of course she wouldn’t,” seonghwa answers for you, hand moving to grasp the back of your neck. with no warning, he grips a little too tight for comfort and and yanks you backwards, till you’re staring right into san’s eyes and the only thing keeping you perched in his lap is seonghwa’s body pressed flat against yours. “there’s nothing a whore loves more than an audience, right?”
if put on trial in a court of law and sworn to tell the truth, and nothing but the truth, over whether or not you’d just clenched around nothing at park seonghwa’s degrading name, you’d plead that you never did such a thing.
you’d be found guilty.
“poor woo nearly came untouched just watching you two. isn’t that right?” the eldest turns to stare back at where you imagine wooyoung to be. “pretty boy nearly whined just at the thought of being in san’s position, a mouth full of cunt and someone using him like the fuck-toy he is.”
the air grows thick, between you, and san, and every other living being in the room. it feels like the walls are closing in on themselves with every second that passes, the sweat dripping down your back and coming to a rest between your arse cheeks evidence that the space is heating up. or maybe it’s just your body, hardly processing the high it’s just come down from and there’s already another source for a new-found arousal, a source in the shape of three muscular men stood behind you and one beneath you, eyes wary as he gazes into your own, like he wants to ask if you’re okay but all the blood is too busy circulating in his crotch for his brain to be productive.
“now, i hardly think it’s very nice of you to get our wooyoung all riled up and not even offer to help him out.” you decide you’re being lulled into a false sense of safety the second you feel the pressure of seonghwa’s hand leave your skin. behind you, there’s a shuffling of footsteps that call you to crane your neck and catch a glimpse of what exactly is going on but san’s eyes beg you to keep staring into his, to count the galaxies that dance within them while he grips at your waist. “so the chance to offer is off the table and you’re simply going to do as told. doesn’t that sound easier, hmm? no having to make pesky decisions, just spread those legs and follow orders.”
at last, you get your first glimpse at jung wooyoung.
he sits down on the bench, no more than a breath of space between where you and san are perched. he’s a vision in himself, shoulders hunched and embarrassed face the same shade of red as the tip of his cock, an angry looking bulbous head poking out the top of far-too-tight speedos.
san’s grip tightens the longer you stare at the other boy, gaze dancing over the shape of his body and mouth-watering as, for the first time, you see the appeal of jung wooyoung. never before have you understood why eyes follow him in the hallways, like he’s more than just another pretty boy on campus- something that’s in abundance. but you see it now, understand the appeal of his stand-out nose; and the veins that run down his arms; and floppy style to his hair, that seems to be calling out to have your fingers running through it. 
with no prior warning, the grip on your hips tightens even more, till san is digging crescents into the soft skin and he’s lifting you, off of his lap and right into wooyoung’s.
the usually boisterous boy’s eyes meet yours, no longer filled with that spark of defiance and, instead, glazed over in tears, a quiet pleading being exchanged between you.
only, you’re unsure what he’s begging of you.
“are you going to just sit there,” seonghwa speaks up, boredom in his tone that has you picturing him rolling his eyes and picking at his manicured nails. “or are you going to help the poor pup cum?”
“what?!” that certainly helps you find your voice, and the guts to turn around and look at the man.
you find him stood closer than you imagined, with tailored trousers hugging his thighs and a perfectly ironed shirt tucked into them, the last few messy buttons the only indication he’d rushed to dress himself. eyes looking past him, you find more of a friendly aura in yunho, who, despite fighting a battle against the towel wrapped around his figure, manages to shoot a smile at you.
and then there’s san, who stands with muscled arms crossed over his chest and a painfully obvious boner resting in the confines of his swimwear, though he’s done a better job at keeping himself concealed than the boy beneath you. his face appears indifferent, yet the twitch in his eye speaks of a tamed anger, a frustration he’s yet to unleash on the men who’d interrupted him amidst his feast.
“are you now deaf along with being dumb or something?” the eldest pulls your attention back to him with little effort, a smirk meeting the glare you shoot his way. “you made that brat hard, now do your job and fix the mess you’ve made.”
words of protest get lost in a surprised gasp as the boy in question takes your hand in his, veiny hand guiding you down to a veiny shaft. wooyoung wraps both of your fingers over his leaking cock, his holding yours in place around him while he ruts his hips up once, twice into your hold, the action sending his swimwear even further down the his length and exposing nearly the full sight of it to the swimming hall.
you don’t mean to compare, yet you’re incapable of ignoring the fact that while wooyoung may be on the slightly shorter side compared to san, he’s certainly leading in the thickness department, with a mushroomed head and the prettiest trail of trimmed hairs leading down his pelvis.
he guides you over his shaft a number of times, a little less shy now as he outwardly whines when your thumb runs over his tip, wiping away the fat bead of precum resting upon it. at some point, he moves his hand away, needing both of his free to lean back on the bench, yet yours keeps moving at it’s own volition, stroking him in a pattern of threes, interrupting every trio with a swipe over his tip or a fondle of his still-concealed balls.
“please,” the whine in his voice is so unlike the jung wooyoung you’ve watched week after week, hurling abuse and echoing boasts of his own talents while keeping himself afloat in the swimming pool.
“he asked nicely.” you’d just about forgotten about everyone else in the room, until seonghwa’s irritatingly unbothered voice serves to remind you of his presence. “rule number one: good behaviour is rewarded.”
“what do i,” you interrupt your own question to glance over wooyoung once more. “do?” you pinch your thigh, skin stinging as nails bite it, and confirm with yourself that this is not a dream but, in fact, very much real.
jung wooyoung is hard and begging you to do something.
“i don’t care how you do it, just put one of your holes to good use for once and make him cum.”
there’s still an echo of seonghwa’s voice by the time you successfully manage to rid wooyoung of his swimwear, the damp fabric clinging to the warm skin and the taut muscles of his thighs. the boy isn’t much help either, seemingly reduced to nothing but a writhing, panting mess instead of someone competent enough to raise himself off the bench just enough for you to undress him.
the sight is mesmerising, one you’re certain will remain ingrained in your memory till the day you die: wooyoung, disheveled and untouched, with his achingly hard cock pressed flat against his lower stomach, his swimmer-thighs spread with a set of balls between them that you find yourself near salivating over as a trickle of his own precum runs down them.
“your cock’s...” you begin to speak, yet trail off as your digits wrap themselves around his shaft, just to delight in the way his breath jumps when you drag your hand upwards and give a soft squeeze as you reach the head. “so pretty, woo.”
“youngie.” seonghwa cuts in from behind you. “he prefers to be called youngie when he’s getting his cock teased.”
“yeah, youngie?” you try it out.
instantly, he nods and something akin to a whimper flies out of him.
fascinated by his shaky breaths and his pretty chest, where warm, tanned skin appears to be near glowing under the swimming halls bright lights as his cheeks flush a palette full of reds and pinks, your eyes are completely fixed on him. there’s something vulnerable and breakable about the way he’s looking at your with the widest of eyes, his eyebrows furrowed and bottom lip receiving countless abuse from his teeth.
never have you been so desperate to push someone past their own limits.
officially running on nothing but pure instincts, you close your mind off to thoughts, like how the boy you’d spent weeks avoiding and missing is stood only metres away, witnessing the way the tip of your finger teases over the slit of his sport rival’s cock. or like how park seonghwa, perhaps the campus’ most infamous trust-fund baby, seems to have complete control of the situation at hand, yourself and jung wooyoung nothing but idolised dolls he’s moving into whatever obscene position he wants you in.
instead, you focus on how wooyoung’s eyes roll back and he lets out a gasp when you gather up fluids from within your salivating mouth and part your own lips, watching how your own spit drips onto his lower stomach, and your hand, and his painfully hard cock.
the saliva serves not only as a visual pleasure, something that’s awakening inside of you at the sight of it leaving you with whole new kind of excitement bubbling along your body, but as a physical pleasure for wooyoung, who seems to have no protest to how much easier it is to slide your hand up his length with the added lubrication of your own spit. 
“fuck...” he curses under his breath and his hands find purchase on your body, one gripping your hip while the other grabs at your forehand, like he’s scared you’ll release the grip you have on him and strip away the sweet release of friction. “don’t just focus on the tip- shit, ah- play with my balls too.”
“wooyoung!” ready to oblige, ready to give the pretty faced boy anything he demanded of you, you’ve no time to think of a reply before the ringmaster of this circus reminds you of his overlooking presence behind your back. “stop speaking like an ungrateful brat and take what you’re given. or else... well, i’m sure you don’t need reminding of what happens to pups that misbehave.”
the way jung wooyoung’s whole body grows rigid beneath you, paired with the countless times park seonghwa has butted in to speak on the boy’s sexual preferences, leaves you with the sense that the two are not only acquainted with how each other’s bodies move underwater..
“s-sorry,” this is not the voice of boastful jung wooyoung, who near bounces down the college halls and airdrops nudes in class because he’s bored. this is a voice that’s soft and meek. like a beady-eyed puppy, so quick to submit to it’s owner. “just feels too good. i’m sorry”
“yeah, you will be sorry.” seonghwa’s hand is cold against your back and it lulls a shiver out of you as fingers trickle down your spine like water off a duck’s wings. part of you hates him for stealing wooyoung’s attention off of you just as you were beginning to revel in it, a larger part of you wants to know why the sternness in his voice is enough to have your clit aching to be touched. “spitfire, be a good cocksleave and sit on his dick.”
“ok, stop!” a sense of shame comes over you when it takes hearing san’s outburst to remember the fact he’s watching the scene unfold. “don’t you think you’re taking this too far now, park seonghwa? i know you and wooyoung have your... agreement on how you treat each other, but don’t drag someone else into it. not when she never even asked for this.”
“you had your tongue tasting the eighth wonder of the world on that bench twenty minutes ago, both of you knowing there was a chance you’d be caught, and you want to tell me no one was asking for this?”
“that was private! you guys are the ones who-”
“there’s no such thing as privacy in a public area. besides, it’s hardly like she’s not enjoying this. if anything, i think spitfire doesn’t like the way you’re getting in the way of her teaching youngie a lesson in obedience.” you’re naive to think no one would notice the way you’ve began to grind down on wooyoung’s cock, stealing whimpers out of him as the soaked lips of your pussy rubbed up against him and holding back your own moans each time his tip meets the bundle of nerves that make up your clit. “choi, if you’re that much of a pissy pants that can’t enjoy himself even just this once in life, then feel free to leave. i’m sure the four of us will be too occupied to notice your absence.”
you’re not paying close enough attention to figure out if san’s newfound silence is due to his departure, or if he’s simply too stunned to speak, your eyes focused on nothing and no one but the boy at your mercy.
the initial burn of wooyoung breaching your entry reminds you of how long it’s been since you’d been stretched open by something other than someone’s cold fingers or wagging tongue. it’s been more or less three long months of juggling test after test, assignments piling up on your desktop and a relationship with your now ex-boyfriend being tossed completely into the gutter.
not once had you thought your return to the world of sexual bliss would be in front of an audience, much less at the very place you work.
doubting that it’s been as long for him as it has for you, wooyoung still spares nothing when it comes to reacting to your touch. with eyes squeezing shut, head rolling back, abdomen muscles flexing along side every shaken intake of breath, the boy puts on a show so pornographic it puts the professionals to shame. a whine exits his lips, lips that carry marks of his own teeth and look like they’re in need of a healthy dose of chapstick, and look so disgustingly kissable that your own tingle at the thought.
all those rumours of jung wooyoung being a camboy rush to the forefront of your mind, feeling truer than ever when your eyes take in the bob of his adam’s apple, and the perfectly timed run of his tongue over his lower lip, and the pretty way in which the prominent veins in his hands looks as he clamps his grip down on your hips.
he’s a sight worth paying for. 
“are you okay?” not the first thing you’d imagined saying after sinking all the way down on his cock, the need to check up on him taking over before you’d even noticed it’s existence.
“yeah...” he sighs his way through the word, eyes still closed and grip still very much tight on your skin, blunt fingertips likely leaving crescent moons you’ll find yourself staring at for days to come, memories of this moment replaying in a rose-tinted haze. “just need a second, you- you feel good, fuck me.”
“i’m kinda already doing that, youngie.” you giggle, like a lovesick adolescent speaking to their crush of the week, but the boy’s instant smile upon hearing it puts out the fire of shame building in the pit of your stomach.
“hmm,” he hums back, acknowledging your words without giving you the satisfaction of hearing him tell you how you’re correct. “are you okay?”
wooyoung flips the question on you and it parallels with the way he pulls the rains in physically, lithe hips thrusting upwards in search of feeling more, reaching deeper inside of you. in the back of your mind you already picture a look of displeasure on park seonghwa’s face, scowling lips loading up to berate you and demand you take repossession of jung wooyoung’s sanity.
“yeah, i’m-” with the eldest man in mind, you stop and compose yourself, as well as you can while wooyoung’s mouthing at your neck, your collarbones, the tops of your breasts. “i’m wondering who told you you were allowed to touch me?”
control is easily regained, all it takes is your hand squeezing around jung wooyoung’s throat and your soaked walls clenching around his aching cock and he’s melting like ice cream on a warm summer’s day, leaving behind a sticky mess.
satisfaction and pleasure come crashing in tandem, wave after wave moving in motion with each lethargic roll of your body against the swimmer’s, who seems to be a quicker learner than you’d believed him to be, hands flying off your body like it was made up of hot stones and, instead, now holding a firm and grounding grip of the bench beneath you both.
“harder.” you feel a hint of emotion within park seonghwa’s voice this time he speaks. it’s fleeting, and hard to make out quite what feeling it is he’s experiencing, but it’s there and it’s certainly a step up from the usual shameless, egotistical, megalomaniac tone he takes on. “squeeze his throat tighter.”
under the possession of his commanding tone, you find yourself caving into his command, fingers pressing a little harder into wooyoung’s warm skin. the boy gulps down whatever pride he has and delivers a pleasured whine. you grind down harder and an evil, twisted part of you you’ve never met before longs to laugh at the way he so desperately is struggling to keep his composure, fighting back the urge to meet your hips with his own upward thrusts.
so, you do. 
“hear that, youngie?” seonghwa’s voice becomes less grating each time you hear it, once an unwelcome and intrusive thought but now a second voice and a valued player in a game of wreck the wooyoung. “you’re being laughed at. isn’t that just pathetic?”
“y-yes, fuck-” he falls victim to your walls clenching around him, gripping his cock in a vice grip. the image of confidence withers away so easily to reveal a teary-eyed, pretty-faced, cum-desperate man. “i’m pathetic.”
“yeah, you are.” seonghwa circles his way around the rocking bench, no longer out of view hidden behind your back but, instead, staring you down with piercing eyes that cut through you like a knife to hot butter. “he’s getting close. never lasts long, really, even seen him cum untouched just from giving me head. but that’s okay, isn’t it youngie? you’re a slut for having your sack drained, huh?”
the swimmer beneath you has never looked redder than he does right now, secrets of his sexual nature getting exposed to the people he likely considers his biggest athletic competition. though you probably should, you don’t push him away when his face finds safety in the crook of your neck, parted lips covering your burning skin in sticky drool.
“don’t let him fool you guys, he’s into the degrading nature of it all. trust me.” you wonder if it should concern you the way seonghwa speaks about jung wooyoung as though he’s nothing but a pet, a possession of which he just so happens to have complete control over. you’re more concerned with the fact it excites you. “call him a good boy, i dare you.”
the words haven’t even formed in your throat and the boy between your thighs is gripping onto your waist a little tighter, lips near pouting and eyes screwed shut in uncontrollable pleasure, burning down his spine and threatening to push him over the edge of sexual bliss.
you consider having mercy, the inexperienced side of you thinking the boy looks like he’s full of shame and embarrassment. the throbbing of his rock hard cock repeatedly stuffing your aching cunt reminds you he’s getting off on the humiliation.
“is he a good boy, though?” you stare up at park seonghwa, not even sparing a whimpering wooyoung any attention as he begins a rambled protest to defend his good behaviour. “i mean, i don’t remember telling him he could touch me. do you, hwa?”
the hands that grip you tightly let go quick, like your skin were an unexpectedly warm stove, scorching his skin right off him.
“i don’t remember either,” the eldest’s agreement has you reeling in a way you never expected, filling you with a new found sense of control.
a control that is ripped away far too quickly, like park seonghwa sensed you growing falsely confident over the situation at hand.
like a shark circling it’s prey, the tall man makes his way back around the bench, each fall of his shoe-covered feet echoing in the quiet swim hall. click, click, click, and he’s right at your back, not a word uttered as the soft of his palm lands on the nape of your neck. achingly slow does it travel down the expanse of your back, not a single noise filling the space other than the rise and fall of your body on top of wooyoung’s and the same boy’s poorly contained moans and mewls of pleasure.
the silence is interrupted by your own shocked gasp, mouth falling agape in shock as your movements come to a complete halt. his hands, no longer soft and delicate, grip you in an iron-tight hold, fingers greedy as they dig into your meaty flesh with no mercy or regard for the pain it may inflict on you.
“no, get up,” like a switch was flipped in as little as a minute, park seonghwa’s voice has lost all sense of the excitement it had whilst he spoke on jung wooyoung’s dirty endeavours and has returned back to the cold, callous, commanding tone it had originally.
he sounds angry, feels angry in the way the fingers of his free hand tangle themselves in the hair at the back of your head and give a harsh tug, forcing your head back till you’re met with his scowling face and perfectly groomed hair, even in it’s dampened state it seems to frame his face perfectly.
“what?” you babble out, dumbstruck, much like the desperate boy beneath you who’s began to mutter apology after apology between pleadings of please no don’t do this and i promise i’ll behave, i’ll keep my hands to myself.
none of it works.
“you heard me. get. up.” the fingers on your waist tug, pull, drag you away from the quivering mess that has become of jung wooyoung, who near sobs as the cool air hits his now painfully hard cock, tip redder than the bottom of your favourite heels and a vein more prominent under his sensitive skin than the ones on his muscular arms. you’re not given much of a chance to process what’s happening before seonghwa speaks again. “wooyoung, up, now. you’re not getting to cum, so get off the bench and make room for someone else.”
the boy makes no further attempt to protest, cheeks painted pink in shame and chest shining with sweat as he shakily rises to his feet, head hung low when you watch him walk out of your line of sight.
then, your knees meet the floor.
park seonghwa chuckles as you go down, hands finding grip in your hair and forcing you to sit up right. heart beating faster, your mind begins to race with questions of what comes next, who comes next.
what dirty desires are about to be unveiled within you, forced into the unforgiving fluorescent lights of the swimming hall?
“jeong, you’re up,” seonghwa’s knee digs into your back and his fingers tug until your scalp begins to sting a little. you don’t want to like it but, in life, you don’t always get what you want.
there’s a series of shuffles behind you, followed by heavy footsteps. there’s no rush, yet no hesitation, just calm and collected footsteps of someone making their way over to do god knows what with you.
when jeong yunho, with his towel that’s looking a lot tighter around his crotch still around his waist, steps into frame, an inexplicable sense of comfort washes over you.
maybe it’s the way he smiles down at you, or the fact his hands brush seonghwa’s off of you, or the way his fingers take a hold of your chin once he’s seated in front of you.
maybe it’s just the fact he’s jeong yunho, campus himbo with a reputation for walking girls home at night just to make sure they’re safe and for singing britney spears with no shame each time the karaoke mic gets passed around.
whatever it is, it’s turning you on.
your knees are burning with fresh pain as park seonghwa shoves you closer to the mammoth of a man and you can’t help but swallow down the ball of anxiety growing in your throat.
everything about jeong yunho’s demeanour has always seemed large, with powerful arms that drag his body through the weight of water and large hands that effortlessly carry countless textbooks through the university halls; a tall frame that helps him stand out in any crowd and a personality loud enough to set off alarms; his thighs a muscular stairway leading up to a well rounded, remarkably defined posterior. it’s safe to say he’s carried a reputation for some time, one that consists of whispers between girls on campus who recount just how well endowed he really is. 7 inches, 9 inches, 12 inches, you’ve heard it all, each girl claiming it to be bigger than the last.
unfortunately, there’s no ruler at your disposal to uncover the truth of the rumours, but you confirm he’s certainly large as you watch him undo the towel. larger than you’ve ever seen before, with a thickness to match, and two heavy looking balls decorating the base.
he wraps a hand around it and you watch how he gives a light squeeze at the head, slowly sliding down the length of it till he reaches the tuft of groomed hairs on his pelvic bone. one of his hands alone holds half of his cock, leaving you almost certain you’d need to use both hands on him.
“d’you want it, sweetheart?” his words are teasing but his voice is soft, a complete one-eighty to the verbal berating you’ve been receiving- and enjoying- from park seonghwa.
you’re sure he notices the way you clench your thighs as he slaps his cock once, then twice against his stomach, the precum leaking out on to his tanned skinned.
there’s an itch inside your throat, one you imagine only he can scratch.
“you wanna taste it?” he’s still speaking to you through the arousal that fogs over your brain, commanding your tongue to swipe over your bottom lip as you burn your gaze at the glistening liquid on his warm skin, tastebuds aching to have him paint them in white.
you nod your head.
his own throws itself back, a chuckle rupturing out of his chest as he continues to tease himself with his hand.
“fuck, yeah, bet you can’t wait to taste my cock, feel it stab the back of your tight throat.” a smile should never look so sweet while it’s part of the same mouth spewing out such filth. somehow, jeong yunho makes it work. “gonna get it nice and wet for me, yeah? make it sloppy, i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock.”
the knee that’s suddenly digging it’s way into your back has no mercy. you wince, pull in a sharp breath and inch just that little bit closer to the bench. like a glove fits a hand, you slip right in between the muscled tree trunks that make up jeong yunho’s thighs. 
you wonder, if only momentarily, what sweet a death it would be to be crushed between them, taut muscles constricting the flow of air to your lungs like a boa with its prey.
but there’s a far more preferable way to be choked by the man before you, body carved out in such definition you fear michael angelo himself stands in admiration of it.
his hand snakes its way around your body, warm and heavy and imposing with the grip it settles for at the base of your neck. in spite of the sharp stab coming from behind- where you have no doubt one park seonghwa stands with disgruntled impatience written all over his irritatingly perfect face- there is no doubt in your mind that the man in front of you holds the reigns. with eyes of honey and lips of velvet, he peers down at you with a tendered expression, saying nothing yet everything with the gentle, repeated sooth of his thumb over your skin.
you need no verbal instructions this time around.
a hand grips the base of him as the other squeezes the flesh of your own thigh, piercing your skin with just enough pressure to assure you this is the reality you find yourself in, rather than some twisted, substance influenced dream.
the first taste is the sweetest, tongue a missionary sent into the foreign land of his body to discover the way he reacts as you drag it over the tip. he gives nothing but a squeeze to the back of your neck; and that crumbles you under his control.
with a few more kitten licks- for good luck, if anything,- the show begins with the parting of your lips, the widening of your mouth, the burning of your skin as you struggle with your ability to swallow him whole. you make it no further than a third of his length before he’s tugging gently on your roots and bringing you back to the surface of existence.
“breathe, okay,” his voice is gentle, calming your nerves yet sending your heart into a fit of patternless beats. “inhale, exhale, got it? through the nose, that’s gonna help you relax.”
doing as he says, you swallow three whole breaths. shaky, ragged, each feeling hollow in your chest in comparison to the weight of his cock on your tongue.
“pretty girl,” he practically coos, hand cupping your chin as his thumb smoothes over the swell of your bottom lip. it’s tender, sweet, and almost enough to make you forget the sight of his engorged cock that sits angrily between his tree-trunk shaped thighs, crying out for the return of your mouth’s affection. “someone’s gotta teach you to not be greedy, hmm? small little mouth of yours is no fit for me, don’t go choking on it.”
heat flashes between your thighs, your heartbeat dropping right down to your clit and leaving you with a burning ache, the kind only a gentleman like this could soothe. your fingers may have to do, however, if the stubborn arsehole behind you would be so kind as to let you enjoy yourself.
the way park seonghwa curls his hand round the front of your neck and flexes his nimble fingers- that goddamn family heirloom ring a punishing cold to your warm skin, near brandishing you as touched by some nepotism child- when you do so little as clench your thighs together to relieve the pressure, or lack-there-of, between your thighs tells you he’ll grant you no such fun.
“you’d need to have something big enough for her to choke on,” san, precious san. still here, still somewhere beneath this god-forsaken tin-can roof swimming pool, watching you bruise your knees and your ego for another man, another one of his team-mates. what must he think of you? has he lost whatever respect he may have had? does he think he’d been just another body to exchange fluids with, that night at the party? if you could just see his face, you’d not need to wonder all these things. his eyes, they always give him away, too earnest and pure for his own good.
“shut it, choi,” yunho’s bark isn’t half as loud as seonghwa’s booming commands have been, and are nowhere near as malignant. if anything, the gentle giant is humoured by his team-mate’s words, as if he knows they’re a preposterous thing to say about him. then again, you can’t imagine any man remaining humble about themselves if they were so well-endowed. “or do you wanna crack out the measuring tape again and remind yourself of just how much of me there is to choke on?”
silence.
it takes a few moments for the spotlight to return to you, a gradual shift from playful to lust driven energy encapsulating the broad frame of the man before. he cups your cheek, feather-light touch smoothing over your skin while his eyes burrow daggers into your soul.
why must his shoulders be so wide? it almost angers you as much as it sends a wave of heat between your legs.
almost, but not quite.
“‘s cute,” he half mumbles, distracted by the sight you paint below him on your knees, bruises already forming and thighs clenching for some relief of pressure. “your little pussy’s all wet just from having my cock in your mouth.”
“i think you’re forgetting she was bouncing on woo’s dick a few minutes ago, yunho,” the devil on your shoulder won’t let you rest, hand snaking through the threads of your hair and tugging on your roots. not enough to hurt, just enough to sting. “have some modesty.”
“sure, let’s act like i’m not the one who had her cumming all over my face a while ago.” san mumbles a string of words you wish you could unhear, face heating up as the shame burns through your bloodstream.
how had you gotten here?
you’re allowed no such freedom to ponder over previous actions as jeong yunho’s all encompassing frame works to remind you of where you find yourself: on your knees dressed in nothing but your own shame- shame which seems to slip off of you, piece by piece, baring you shamelessly to this pack of wolf-eyed boys’ for their eyes to feast upon.
strong, veiny hands reach out and drag you forwards, just an inch yet it’s all you need to feel the weight of park seonghwa’s domineering figure float off of you, rendering you under the control of this much larger, far smilier looking man. “eyes on me, okay? don’t wanna miss the way i’m about to make them roll back.”
there begins a game of push and pull, where jeong yunho pushes you closer and closer to his evident arousal, all the while teasing you as he pulls his hips back, keeping your waiting mouth open and empty, and oh-so frustrated at the feeling of being so close yet so far away from his dripping tip.
the first real taste you get of him does, in fact, nearly have your eyes rolling back. a kitten lick, barely there yet fully felt, running over the underside of his cock, a taste of salted skin, and musky sweat, and stale chlorine mixing in with the warmth of him flooding your senses. his reaction is no more composed than yours, blatantly parting his lips in a gasp and bucking his hips up, forwards, any direction they need follow to chase after your mouth.
happy to comply, you take pride in tasting him a second time, this time right over the growing drop of pre-cum pebbling on his tip. white flashes behind your closing eyes as his grip in your hair tightens, a pulse of heat firing straight down your spine as your mind floods with images of what it must be like to watch this man, this gentleman, this figure that so wholly encompasses what it means to be a himbo in this day and age lose his cool and revolt into his most carnal, basal instincts to take whatever pleasure he needs from you with a reckless abandon, burrow his throbbing cock down your throat till the beat of his heart takes over your own.
instead, you settle for wrapping your lips around him, at last, and letting him guide you just that little bit down his length. the weight of him feels nice, a strange sense of comfort birthing in your bones as you grow used to feel of him taking up your palate. his breaths seem to run in tandem with the inches he sinks deep between your parted lips.
a deep breath, he lowers you further, till your left cheek begins to bulge out.
tongue pinned to the floor of your mouth, you make use of it as best you can, rolling it over the bottom of his shaft and earning yourself a plethora of gratifying sounds, each deep and desperate and crooning straight out of jeong yunho’s broad chest. 
another deep breath, another inch.
for all the false dominance you wield over the situation, with the heat of your mouth and spill of your own saliva slickening his cock, his real and visceral dominance doubles it by tenfold, with a hand on the back of your neck, guiding your every move, and a knowing, gentle look cast downwards at you from where he sits propped on the bench, thighs a heavy mass to case your body between. a silly little voice in your head whispers a seductive tale of how easily this man could get you in a headlock and suffocate your fragile windpipes. a wave of heat, this one going right down to your core and forcing you to pay attention to it, shifting awkwardly and clenching the muscles in your own legs in hopes of getting some pitiful amount of pressure.
all breathing stops as he hits the back of your throat.
hands pulling tight, a biting pain ripping through your hair and a tired gag creeping out of your constricting throat, yunho holds you still and strong, as unmoving as the mountains that fill the horizon from your bedroom window.
he’s not even fully in, an arguably obscene amount of him still awaiting some form of attention beyond the spill of the spit filling up your mouth. but there’s nowhere for it to go, not within your mouth at least, and so you manoeuvre your hand up and grip the neglected inches, the tip of your pinkie teasingly brushing over the swell of his balls.
he lurches forward, gasping in a breath of air at last. “fucking christ- shit,” he grits his teeth. “her mouth’s warm.”
“well, obviously. this your first time getting a blowjob or something, jeong?” god, the reminder of seonghwa being here, somewhere behind you, fox eyes judging your every move and keeping his cool, no matter how hard you’d seen his cock straining in those ridiculous pant-suit trousers he sports. it’s sickening.
“yeah, yunho, watch out before you have a repeat of 2019.”
if the taller jeong wants to snap at the other, you never find out, instead dedicating yourself to the glory of worshipping him between your parted lips and tight throat, jaw ready to lock itself in place so long as it keeps him inside.
you treat him differently than you’d treated san that night. you’d been tipsy then, buzzing off the colourful shots of who-knows-what you’d been conned into downing a half hours before, mind hazy as you kneeled between him and teased your tongue over every crevice of him it could reach, dripping him in drool and working an ache into your overused tongue by the time you got watched him spill over the edge of ecstasy. that wasn’t even about san’s pleasure, no real care put into getting him off, your own selfish need to indulge in the pleasure of feeling, tasting, worshipping him taking precedence.
but, right now, you’re overwhelmingly sober, mind hazed only by a cloud of inexplicable lust that rolled in the moment san shot you his stupid smile, and you care about making jeong yunho cum. in fact, it’s the only thing on your mind as you bob your head up and down, letting his own hand guide your pace.  
“shh, shh,” he’s hushing your own struggles for breath and carding his fingers through the tresses of your hair, his legs clamping down on either side of you, pinning you in your rightful place. “taking it so good, baby. so fucking good.”
good’s not good enough.
you want to leave him mind-blown, exhausted, unhinged. you want him clenching his jaw, and baring his teeth, and stuttering over any praise he tries to give you. in fact, you need it, need that thrill-driven lust of collapsing the sanity of a man as broad and strong and capable as him.
so you pick up the pace, fight against the steady up-and-down of his grip and try to take just that little bit more of him in your mouth and down your throat, till you’ve no doubt there’s a visible bulge of where he sits down your windpipe. you think back on what he said- i love it when a pretty thing like you gets all messy over my cock- and work towards doing just that, mouth a fountain of over-flowing spit that paints lines down your chin and over his heavy balls. the hand at his base lightly drags the tips of its nails over his burning skin and you physically feel the way his cock jumps in your mouth, head twitching as his hips involuntarily jolt forwards.
eyes as wide as a deer in headlights, you glance up to stare into his own, only to find they’re rolling back in his head, too caught up in the headiness of having your mouth on him to visually focus. it’s erotic, tracing your eyes over the protruding vein in his neck and the unrhythmic heaving of his chest- like every breath he pulls is a rare gift and a miracle- and the straining of his muscled thighs that hold back his urge to buck freely into your mouth, use you as nothing but a hole to get himself off with.
your free hand stakes claim over your own sexual frustration, nimble fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit in an attempt to just ease that heat burning you from the inside out.
“she’s touching herself, jeong,” not even the irritating, grating voice of park seonghwa’s unwanted commentary can take away the kick you’re getting out of working this man into a frenzy. “are you just going to let her, without your permiss-”
“shut up, park,” yunho is wrecked, voice divulging so far from that loud, boyish charm into a dark, broken sort of gruffed out thing, echoing straight out of his chest. but, that doesn’t mean he doesn’t listen to the other man, doesn’t force his eyes open to glance down in a hazed daze to witness your pathetic attempts to work your fingers over yourself.
only, he doesn’t tell you to stop.
he just... watches. and then smiles, squeezes out what can only be described as a broken whine, and tilts his head back once more, relinquishing all control of his body over to you. the scene divulging into a chorus of mumbled words, fuck and please and yes becoming the only word yunho knows, the only three you hear. 
only as he cums does jeong yunho regain that bit of self-control he’s lost, ripping your mouth off him- a stuttered mumble of i wanna paint that pretty face- and erupting in a mess of grunted moans, cock twitching in his palm as rope after rope of white, hot fluid shoots out of it. it’s messy, and disgusting, and sticky, marking the skin on your cheeks, nestling in your hair, dripping over your shut eyelashes.
the last drops land in your parted mouth as his grasp shakes and you regain the right to wrap your lips around his mushroomed tip.
lips stained in pearly white, cheeks and neck matching too. the throb of your neglected cunt, clenching itself around nothing but the mere thought of having jeong yunho stuff you full, break you in two and leave you spent.
the man in question is in a no better state, head thrown back and chest a heaving mess glistening with the shine of his own sweat. his mouth hangs open, near heaving in breaths of air and his hands, adopting a mind of their own, grip harder in your hair and hold you firmly in place, tongue laving over his sensitive tip, pushing him closer and closer to the ledge of overstimulation.
“fuck- uh, fucking look at you,” sweet voice, foul words. two fingers drag over your cheek, coating themselves in the sticky substance he’s painted you in. “drooling all over me.”
he’s right, you are drooling. down your chin, an uncomfortable damp coat covers your overheating skin as you continue to stretch your lips around his length, ready to rip another thigh-shuddering orgasm out of the man.
yunho grants you no such pleasure.
instead, a grip tugs back on your hair and, before you can feebly attempt to catch your fleeing breath, he’s pulling you up into his lap, straddling you across the well-defined muscles of his thigh. those big, capable hands he pushes himself through pools, and rivers, and all other bodies of water manipulate your limbs however he likes, a rag-doll free for him to toy with for as long as he sees fit.
“yun-” you don’t even manage to say his name properly, not when he grinds you down into his lap, smothering his tanned skin in your juices. the friction runs straight for your pulsing clit and you’re rendered to sinking into his welcoming arms, head collapsing into the crook of his neck, parted lips panting up a storm against his sweated skin.
“that nice for you, angel?” the soft words, the rough hands, the perfect roll of your hips. you feel like you could sob, break apart completely. yunho tracing a hand up the curve of your spine and soothing his long fingers over a knot in you back doesn’t help your case. “bet it is. little bit of release to all that tension you’ve been feeling, yeah?”
you think you nod.
it’s hard to tell.
sparks fly within your loins, heating you from the inside out. yunho, at some point, has wound his fist into the tresses of your hair, nails scrapping along your scalp. it’s pleasurable, all over, soothing you into a state of utter relaxation, a being with no purpose other than to take whatever this mass of warmth and muscles and width offers you.
his hand makes a fist and gently tugs, forcing a whine out of you as you’re faced with the bright lights once more. traces of his own cum stain the very place your face had lay. it’s erotic to see, drying up your tongue with a need to lick it clean.
“no, no, focus, right here,” a single finger taps at your cheek, followed by the tilting of your chin that forces you to stare back at the hungry eyes of jeong yunho. “eyes on me. want a front row seat to watching your eyes roll back.”
god, he’s filthy, and delicate, and that just makes him all that more filthy.
swiping his digits through the remnants of his sticky cum, he makes sure you’re staring right back at him as those same fingers snake their way down between your grinding bodies and burrow themselves deep in your soaked heat. shallow pumps of his hand fuck his cum-coated fingers deeper, long and lithe enough he barely needs to move to have you feeling him all over, everywhere.
by the time he curls them, pressing against that spongy wall, you’re just about ready to cry.
“think she’s gonna cum,” oh god, no, why must he remind you of your audience? why does it no longer frighten you to have eyes watching you be defiled but, rather, have you clenching around him tighter, chasing that fever-like ecstasy the man means to deliver? “she’s gripping my fingers so tight- shit, almost makes me wanna bust my load just thinking how warm her pussy would feel round my cock.”
“don’t let her cum,” you vow, some day, to wring the neck of park seonghwa. “just cause she’s gone all cockdrunk doesn’t mean she’s earnt-”
“shut up, hwa,” the boy’s thumb pokes up and you can’t help the way you grind down into it, smothering your clit in whatever pressure you can get. “pretty baby’s more than earned it. stop being bitter that i’m the one who’s gonna give her it.”
give you it, he does.
three fingers deep, the cocktail of your wetness mixing with his cum-cated digits aiding the ebb and flow of his rhythm, jeong yunho has your toes curling, eyes rolling, thighs shaking. you blackout, for only a moment, lost in the wilderness of pleasure.
the aftershocks are barely kicking in when you’re suddenly ripped away from yunho’s hold. the sounds of your beating heart and heaving chest muffle the disgruntled exchange of words between the swim-team, inhibiting your ability to stay clued-in on the events that surround you. all you know is that when your body meets the bench once more, on all wobbly fours, jeong yunho no longer sits tall and proud.
a sharp sting hits your rear- a smack, that echoes in the empty space of the swimming hall. the only appropriate response is the shriek you let out, twisted in your own conflicting emotions of pain, and pleasure, and painful pleasure. a second smack meets the other cheek. this time, there’s no doubt a wanton whine escapes you.
“since the rest of them can’t take orders,” you’d already known it was seonghwa whose hands were suddenly all over you, pinning you in a position of submission. the sound of his grandiose voice sends a shiver of anticipation down your spine, top to tail. “i’ll have to do it myself.”
with no word of warning, he smooths his hands down the globes of your ass, teases the crease of skin where your inner thigh meets your dripping heat, and fucks two whole fingers into your sensitive core. knuckles deep, they sit still upon initial intrusion, basking in the warmth of you and coating themselves in the essence from an orgasm you’ve yet to even fully recover from and the cum yunho’d scooped off your own face.
then, at last, when your nails dig marks into the wood below, he curls them a come-hither motion.
with shame painted on your skin, you toss your head back and release an inhumane cry, eyes hazily gazing up at the horrendous white lights above. “oh god!”
“not quite. i do appreciate the flattery though,” there’s no need to glance over your shoulder to know that pompous, trust-fund baby is wearing the most earth-shattering smirk, some stupid strand of his perfectly groomed hair dangling over one of his eyes, like some 90s heartthrob boy-band member. you do it anyway.
park seonghwa is an unfairly attractive man, sporting a beauty so ethereal it almost makes you angry.
that anger seems to dampen the wetter he gets you.
his touch is slow, but by no means is it gentle. calculated and malevolent, he plays with your insides like they’re nothing but the strings to your puppet. a curl of his fingers and one of your hands shoots forward. the torturously slow pace that he pumps his digits in and out, and your jaw falls slack. his thumb bumps and grinds against your throbbing clit, and your elbows give out, sending you crashing face-first down onto the bench.
his free hand presses down on your lower back, bending you deeper, hiking your ass up higher in the air. and, at first, you think you’re imagining it, that trickle of warmth against your other entrance, believing it nothing but a trick of your melting brain.
you’re who-knows how many hours deep in a whirlwind of pleasure and penetrative stares, people have been driven to the brink of insanity over far less in the past.
but then seonghwa’s fingers leave your cunt, warm and wet trails following their journey over your skin. there’s no imaginative mind great enough in this universe to conjure up that initial shock to feeling how he prods and pokes at your puckered hole, lubricating it with the dirty mixture of both you and yunho’s cum and his very own spit.
the tip of his pointer finger ventures onward first, breaking through the surface of your tight muscles in a shallow intrusion.
the feeling has you frozen, frightened, intrigued. eyes widening, moans dying, pussy pulsating in an empty need.
“don’t go getting shy on us now, spitfire,” the collective language he uses brings back the weight of all the boys’ eyes on you. hesitantly, you angle your face off the bench, and regret it the instant you meet the brown comfort of his eyes. “fun’s just starting. ain’t that right, san?”
a tense energy takes over the large room, with san’s shoulders tensing, and yunho’s feet fidgeting, and wooyoung’s cheeks blushing. seonghwa seems impervious to the shift, whether voluntarily or not, and instead invites himself to further exploring the limits of your body.
he’s kind enough to spare a bit of care into the way his finger sinks deeper into your unexplored hole. another dribble of his hot saliva lands messily onto you, aiding the slip and slide of his hand. two, or three, or four strokes of his finger and you’re submitting to the intrusion, hips rutting higher and presenting yourself more to the man.
“come here,” the command calls over your body and, at first, you think its aimed at you. so you try scooting further back, only to be halted by seonghwa speaking once again. “yeah you, choi. come get under her.”
for the first time since this all began, you’re on the precipice of saying no.
they’d listen, all of them. wouldn’t push you, pressure you or force you to keep going, not if you truly voiced your negation. even park seonghwa, as big an arsehole as he may be, would have no qualms ending his fun and agreeing to never speak of this again.
and it’s not that you don’t want choi san under you. far from it, as you’ve already made pretty clear earlier, thighs his personal ear-warmers while his tongue delved deep for your honey-suckle glory. you’re hardly uncomfortable at the thought of him under you, chest rising repeatedly in frantic breaths and legs bent at the knee to give him just the right leverage to fuck up into your messy cunt-
it’s not till he’s three feet away from you, hands fidgeting by his side, eyes looking anywhere but you and your compromising position, and the world’s most obnoxiously boner-strained tent in his swimming gear that realisation washes over you. you’re hesitating because of him, because of his possible discomfort.
what if he wants to say no? what if he doesn’t want to get under you? what if his eyes will never look into your own again, too shocked and disgusted by all the things you’ve let be done to you? by his own team-mates/rivals, too?
hell, you’ve shocked yourself even, never in a million years had you pictured a day you’d be at the mercy of some rich prick, overdressed for every occasion and looking like a vogue-cover-model reject. but when he’s edging another finger into the already-tight squeeze of your ass, and pushing your buttons just enough to nudge you towards an edge that never seems to arrive, how could you ever dream of being anywhere else?
a hand touches your cheek.
soft. tender. it takes the extra time to soothe the pads of its fingers against your burning cheek.
“you feeling okay?” san’s quiet tone, meant only for you, is enough to move you to near-tears. you crave his hug. the position you find yourself in only allows you to reach out and grasp at where his knee bends as he crouches down to your level. it’s all the same, san knows. san understands. his own hand lands on top of yours, messily threading digits.
“she’s literally stuffed with another man’s cum and you’re worried about her? well aren’t you just the sweetest.” a cheap remark from seonghwa.
san purposefully ignores it, and everything about the man, instead choosing to keep his focus on what matters.
you.
“think you could make some room for me down there?” your nose wrinkles at his choice of words.
his giggle echoes.
“no, no, not... like that,” he guides you as he talks, grip moving to your shoulders and coaxing you up into a seating position. somewhere along the way, seonghwa’s hands leave you. he doesn’t stray too far, however, and your back soon collides against his chest. “here, pretty. want you to make space for me down here.”
within seconds, choi san’s back in his rightful place: splayed out beneath you, body fit snug between your parted legs and hair an unruly, sweated mess against his forehead.
no clothing sits between you both, blessing you with the mouthwatering drag of his cock through your folds. hard, and red, and leaking at the tip, a slight curve to the right, dribbling precum against his well-toned stomach. you’re biting your lip before you fully register your own thoughts, body a mind of its own as you grind down onto him.
control is limited and fleeting, that of which seonghwa reminds you without uttering so much as a word. instead, he clamps a harsh grip down on either side of your hips, rucks you up to where he needs you and guides you down onto san’s cock.
it’s thick, imposing and something that seonghwa blesses you no time to ease into things. instead, you’re slammed down, san buried to the hilt inside of you.
“hey there,” delicate fingers skim up the tense muscles in your thigh and find pleasure in delivering a teasing tickle to your sides. “come here often?”
the cheeky grin, the double entendre, the way san looks so goddamn proud of himself for saying it. you can’t help it, you wind up giggling uncontrollably.
wrong choice. bad idea. danger zone.
san contorts in pain, and lust, and something else you’ve never seen behind his eyes before, hissing through his teeth like some feral cat. his eyes match that of a feline too. “you trying to squeeze my dick off or something?”
you compose yourself upon the reminder of that san can feel you tensing around him, pull in a deep breath and find your voice again, at last. “or... something.”
maybe you’re a little out of breath. maybe you’re a little hoarse. it doesn’t seem to matter to the boy below, his only response being to cant his hips up and lick at the fire burning in your insides.
“you two are disgusting,” once again, park seonghwa wins gold in the nobody-asked-for-you-bum-ass-opinion olympics. let’s see if he’ll continue his winning streak and go for gold in the hypocrite-athon too!
the hands on your sides begin you guide you, with seonghwa squeezing his perfectly manicured nails into your plush skin and bouncing you down onto san. up, down, up and down, repeated strokes like the ones their hands deliver each time they breach the surface.
it’s easy, this pleasure. it’s a gift, hand-delivered by two god-like men that sandwich you between them- one a mass that fills you, the other a weight that controls you. liberating in every sense, you can’t help the way your head rolls back to find purchase on one of seonghwa’s shoulders, completely melting into the ways he winds you over san.
“shit, yes, you feel,” san’s no better than you, mouth agape and hands unsteady as they trace every inch of skin they can reach: the dimples of your back, the swell of your breasts, the hood of your clit. his hips are the only steady thing about him, not a falter in the way they grind up to kiss your dripping pussy with his cock. “so good. so warm, tight. love it.”
a hand curls round your front, travels up between your breast and over your sternum. it settled for a grip a round your throat, no pressure applied, it simply exists against your windpipe, a silent threat.
“look what you do to him, hmm,” a squeeze around your neck. seonghwa’s warm breath fans against your ear, taunting you. “look what you’re doing to them.”
through your glossed-over gaze, you trail your way past the sight of san and all his captivating beauty, settling instead on the equally erotic, not-at-all surprising image that stands just past where his head rests at the edge of the wooden bench.
a sweaty wooyoung, bent at the waist and whining up a storm, while a far more composed yunho pounds his hips into the boy’s arse.
your walls clench and san whimpers, a string of curses and pleads leaving him.
“think you’re finally ready for me?” the devil on your shoulder- at your back, more truly,- smirks into your skin, careless enough to not even feign it being anything but a rhetoric question. ready or not, park seonghwa is going to finally get his own fill of the thrill, his own satisfaction, beyond mere observation and controlling.
the spill of your own wetness slips down your thighs as san continues to fuck himself deep. it doesn’t travel far as seonghwa coats himself in you, wetting his fingers before they slip back inside your ass. a few generous, tempting pumps into your ring of muscles, fingers spreading a little further apart each time, till he decides that’s enough, he’s ready, you’re ready.
the unbuckling of a belt.
an unzipping of trousers.
trousers bunched down muscled thighs.
the first cut may be the deepest, but you highly doubt it’s as deep as seonghwa feels feeding his cock into your arse, stretching you apart to make way for him. a part of you feels like it can’t breathe, impaled on both these men who sit so deep inside you, you fear you’ll feel the ghost of their touch for weeks to come.
but what does it matter, really, when seonghwa pulls you back against him and whispers filth against your ear? 
this is all you’re good for. cock-drunk whore. gonna let us cum inside?
and san’s coaxing you down to trail his mouth over your chest, the tongue flicking over your nipple a terrible juxtapose to his crooning words?
taking it so well, baby. so tight, and perfect, and god. ‘s that what baby needs, huh, for me to touch her little clit?
the two men find a rhythm, a synchronised routine to how they pull and push you around. their thrusts ebb and flow, no moment existing where you sit empty. they treat your body like they treat the pool, swimming through your waves of pleasure and effortlessly advancing to the finishing line, the winning stroke. then, san’s hand meets your cheek and your thoughts are dragged underwater, muffling the sounds of everyone else- the shlickt sound that echoes with each inch of cock fucked into you, the high-pitched whimpers of a fucked out wooyoung, the slapping of skin against skin- as he pulls you in for a kiss.
it’s a hungry one, all teeth and tongue and swollen lips. you pull away more breathless than before and fighting back a big dopey grin, toes curling as the swell of one of their cocks hits a nice spot inside you, body too on fire to know just exactly where the new wave of heat is coming from.
“h-how d’you do it, hm?” it’s almost a whisper, something meant only for your ears, yet you hear him loud and clear, voice stuttering off in a mess of whines and moans. “still got that pretty-girl smile, even while getting fucked silly.”
it almost makes you shy, till you remember what you’re doing and who you’re doing it with. you settle for a quick, short answer. mostly because you fear you’re losing the ability to think in full-sentences, much less speak one out loud. “can multitask.”
like your own words are the key to pandora’s box, your eyes widen, and your mouth dries, and your heart reels as a new desire burrows itself somewhere between the parts of you owned by san and the parts owned by seonghwa. the desire makes room for more, for someone more, and, without much chance for second-thoughts or hesitation, you find what little stability you can manage with one hand pressing down onto san’s toned chest and reach forward with your free hand.
fingers, light as a feather, curl around wooyoung’s solid shaft. the man’s hips stutter at the unexpected contact, eyes flying open to glance down in time to watch you reach out your tongue, licking up the droplets of precum that threaten to spill from his mushroomed tip.
“please, god, please!” he’s beyond the point of sense, poor baby, struggling to keep up with yunho’s hips’ repeated slamming into his tight ass. so, you can’t really blame him or shame him for the way he hastily rips his hand through your hair, tugging your mouth as far down his cock as the angle allows.
a few hairs rip from your skull in his grip. you reward him with a pleasant hum, moans muffled with the mouth-full he’s providing you. 
“shit- look at that,” seonghwa pipes up from behind you, the motion of his hips never faulting or failing as he continues to take part in the filthiest three-way tango known to man, hands bouncing you down to meet each raise of san’s hips, plundering the other man’s cock deep, deep, deep, till he’s kissing your cervix and you’re seeing stars before your eyes. “should cup youngie’s- fucking christ- his balls, san, cup ‘em.”
you’re vaguely aware of his compliance, hand lifting off whatever part of you it was touching- your nipple, your hip, your jaw, it’s hard to tell when you feel like san’s everywhere, all over you, part of you- to graze the set of well-groomed spheres that threaten to slap your chin each time wooyoung thrusts forward.
barely two seconds, hardly any pressure against them, and the youngest of the four is nearly in tears, wailing and begging over broken whines that it’s too much, can’t take it, don’t stop.
there’s a ringing in your ear. because everything is becoming too much: wooyoung in your mouth, san rutting up into you and seonghwa’s hands clawing and pulling your body back into each of his overpowered thrusts. the boy in front of you is the first to fall apart, twitching in your mouth and, without a warning, choking you on the cum he shoots down your throat. a hand pulls you back, just enough to paint your face in the final drops released from wooyoung.
one of the other men is next, a string of curses and grunts filling the air. there’s a new stickiness between your legs, gooey white staining your skin. it’s all building up, and up, and up, until you topple over and are sent reeling into wave after wave of blinding pressure, toes cramping up and muscles spasming as you shoot off into another astral field, creaming around san and chocking seonghwa’s cock.
you don’t register the release of your hips nor the crash-down of your body. one moment, you’re pressed back against seonghwa, mouth dropped open in a silent scream for merciless pleasure, and the next you’re cradled in san’s warm embrace, a crooning tone to the way he hushes and calms you, unheard i got yous, and did so good for us, babys, and just let me hold yous falling on deaf ears.
for a moment in your own history, time ceases to exist.
there’s no ticking of the large clock on the wall, reminding you of how long ago your shift had ended. there’s no thoughts of your plant friend drying out in the staleness of your room, desperately awaiting you to revive it with some h2o. there’s no consequences awaiting your actions, no shame to be feared and leaving you unable to look any of the four swimmers in the eye ever again.
instead of being crashed against choi san’s body, a mixture of his, yours, and several other people’s bodily fluids serving as the adhesive that keeps you stuck together in your mess, you’re floating in space, not quite alive but not quite dead, just there. 
nerves tingling, body aching, mind switched off.
four, or five, or ten, maybe even fifteen minutes pass by the time you regain focus on your surroundings.
your name, whispered. it’s his voice that pulls you back, sweet and soft and oh so like the san you’re used to, the one that sends teasing winks your way when your eyes happen to meet his in class, and the one who has the prettiest notes you’ve ever seen, a colour-scheme for his every highlight and the cutest of doodles to go along with the topic on the paper.
the one who’s hand is currently brushing through your hair, fingers careful as they catch on the tangles near the split ends.
“hmm,” you swear you want to say his name, say more than that, but there’s an ache in your jaw that hinders you from even attempting, your voice-box likely having taken a beaten in the throws of your pleasured moans.
“you okay there?” he giggles over the end of the sentence, and you feel your slowing heartbeat stutter at the sound.
he feels you nod into the crook of his neck and lets his free hand find perch against your hip, moments before giving it a light squeeze. 
he’s warm, and pleasant, and soft.
and moving you both into an up-right position, hands splaying flat against your back and keeping you secure against him, your legs wrapping around his slender waist. you drift off again, between time and space, and come to at the first drop of water that lands on your back.
one drop, two drops, and then a downpour of heat crashing onto both of you.
you can tell from the colour of the pinkish tiles along the communal shower floor that you’re in the women’s changing room, and mentally note to thank him, even if he’s not aware, for bringing you somewhere you won’t have to shamefully stumble out of in the nude, your change of clothes safely tucked away within one of the lockers.
“i’m gonna put you down now, okay?” he speaks so gently that it overwhelms you, answering him only with an affirmative nod of your head.
neither of you speak while he lathers shampoo into your hair, nor when he’s dragging his soap covered hands over the cum that stains your skin, wiping it away and leaving nothing but suds where the liquid once was. he doesn’t speak while covering your eyes with his hands, blocking the sting of the shampoo. you don’t speak when you inch closer, head falling forward to rest against his chest.
when he does eventually speak again, both of your fingertips are wrinkled and bodies are clean, the water of the shower serving as nothing but a way to keep warm.
“you’re, uh, not” the echo of his voice in the empty lockers feels so much more intimate than how his cries sounded by the pool. “doing anything on wednesday, right?”
too lazy to move, you angle your face to stare up at him from his chest and take a moment to just stare, look at the way his hair is sticking to his forehead, at the way his eyes are back to being wide, at the way the marks you’d littered along his neck are becoming more prominent.
“how’d you know?” your question confirms his own, and a tenseness you’d not noticed melts off of his shoulders.
“wednesday is race day. you never work race days.”
it’s such an odd detail to have noticed, and it’s making you question everything you thought you knew about your relationship with san. do acquaintances remember each other’s schedules? do acquaintances bring each other soothing teas when they notice the other developing flu symptoms? do acquaintances waste time pulling faces at each other in lectures they should probably be paying attention to.
“i’m not taking part in the race this time, by choice. my grades are good enough, don’t need to worry about winning some championship to keep my education.” san is speaking unpromptly at this point, rambling in a way you’ve only seen him do when he’s nervous, or excited, or both. “it’s okay if you don’t want to, or you have better things to do or places to be! but, i was just thinking, maybe you’d wanna spend some time with me? there’s this medieval market down on main-street, it’s meant to be really cool, and i just think it would be even cooler to go with you? but, again, you don’t have to. forget it, actually, i’m being stupid and assuming you’re not doing something with your friends or your-”
the kiss you interrupt him with is far more innocent than the one you shared earlier, no hands rushing to touch and tongues desperate to taste, just two sets of lips moving as one.
you pull back and he chases after you, lips landing another peck before you’re grasping his cheek in your hold and forcing him back.
“i think you could have asked me to come help clean your apartment for you and i’d still say yes, just to spend my day with you,” you say, and he smiles as if on instinct, unable to stop it even if he tried.
“really?”
“really.”
“good, cause i already bought us two tickets and i really didn’t wanna have to go alone.” there’s drops of water dancing on his eyelashes, and laziness in his every movement, and you’re both still very much naked, but none of that seems to matter when he gives you another peck, like he’s awakened an addiction and your lips are now his favourite vice. “but, now that you mention it, my apartment could do with some cleaning. and i bet you’d look amazing in a maid outfit.”
a slap echoes in the showers.
“hey! don’t worry, i’ll be wearing a matching one!”
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pirateprincessblog · 5 months
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player 9
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𝐝𝐞𝐬𝐜𝐫.: finally reuniting with your family after years of working abroad, your six year old nephew doesn't leave your side. he wants you to take him to school, he wants to do his homework with you, he wants to sit on your lap during meals, and he wants you to watch his football practice. how convenient that you're almost always alone on that stadium, and that his coach is just the most gorgeous man you've ever seen in your life. 𝐩𝐚𝐢𝐫𝐢𝐧𝐠: jeong yunho x reader 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐜𝐨𝐮𝐧𝐭: 5k 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: footballplayer!yunho, coach!yunho, whippedforhernephew'scoach!reader 𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐜𝐢𝐚𝐥 𝐭𝐚𝐠𝐬: gagging, semi-public sex, oral (m!receiving), creampie, unprotected sex
𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬: swearing 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: is it soccer or football? football or rugby? either way, i'd let yunho demolish me in the locker room (or in the middle of the football field). :)
𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫: 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐢𝐬 𝐚 𝐰𝐨𝐫𝐤 𝐨𝐟 𝐟𝐢𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐝 𝐝𝐨𝐞𝐬 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐫𝐞𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐭 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐫𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐧 𝐦𝐞𝐦𝐛𝐞𝐫 𝐢𝐧 𝐚𝐧𝐲 𝐰𝐚𝐲.
"it's called soccer, dumbass."
"no, it's called football, dumbass."
"you don't know what you're talking about." your brother rolls his eyes, then stuffs his mouth with the hotdog you had made for game night.
"there's a ball, and you kick it with your foot. what part of that seems to be the issue?"
"football is an entirely different sport-"
"oh give me a break-"
"god, it's like you both are sixteen again. is that just a natural thing? no matter how old you get you'll bicker like this all your life?" your mother complains, sipping her cucumber water and judging the calories on the table with a single eyebrow raise.
your brother's son, your nephew, laughs in your lap. you laugh with him, seeing the ketchup mess on his face and his sticky little fingers.
"and what are you laughing at, you little rascal? come here!"
the young man grabs the child from your lap, tickling the life out of him as a punishment for mocking his father. he playfully reaches towards you for help, and you do, tickling your own brother to make him stop.
"oh god, my white couch!"
"stop that, our daughter came back after many years apart and you care about the couch?" your father scolds his wife.
"it's not like that-"
"hush! is it 2:1? is it?! yes it is!" he jumps, spilling the beer all over the just mentioned couch.
"oh, heavens." her voice is light, and she looks like she is about to faint.
the four of you snicker, and silently cheer with another hot dog.
you forgot just how boring your town is. you do nothing but lay in your bed watching tv shows, walk to the local bakery, and drive your nephew to school. he is almost glued to you twenty four hours a day, and you don't mind. he is the squishiest thing ever, always listens to you, and helps you piss off your brother.
he doesn't have much of a mother figure in his life. your brother works a lot, and your parents are raising him. his mother died during birth, and even though they begged to save her and not the child, it was too late. your brother didn't want the baby at first. pushed it away, yelled at it, saying it took away his wife and his will to live. then, he started therapy. he started getting better, and started spending time with his child. your nephew has all the love he could possibly get, but your arrival changed him. he has become very attached to you; sneaking out of his room in the middle of the night just to sleep in your bed, making his kindergarten teacher call you mid playing just to tell you that he built a rocket out of clay, to only eating when he sits on your lap and you feed him.
much like this morning.
"auntie?" he mumbles between the waffle bites.
"yes, pumpkin?"
"will you watch me play soccer today?"
"it's football!" your brother calls from the living room. "you broke my kid."
"i didn't break him, i just passed him some of my IQ."
the man sticks his tongue out towards you, making his son giggle.
"don't you want grandpa to take you?" your father makes a disappointed face, teasing his grandchild.
"i want auntie to take me! and then you can meet my coach! and then you can see how cool our new jerseys are! we are only allowed to wear them at the stadium and not take them home because they are new. i really wanted to show it to you but coach wouldn't let me. he says i'd make it rip it as soon as i enter the house!"
"oh, how dare he!" you say, noticing your father's wink as a sign to support him.
"and sometimes he yells at me! but grandpa told me that he just means well, and that he only wants to teach me so i can be a great player like him! did you know that he is going to play the- the- oh no, what's it called again, grandpa?"
"the derby?"
"yes! that! he is going to play in a few weeks! he is so cool!"
he may not be able to feed himself, but instead of that, he can talk. all day long. and just sometimes, your ears become irritated. so you agree to drive him. you blast the music, muting his babbling from the back as he sits in his car seat. can anyone blame you? it's a two hour drive. you don't have the energy for it today.
you finally arrive, and after making sure you've locked your car and rolled the windows up, you finally let him lead you inside. you can barely keep up with him, he is too excited to see his friends. you see other women standing near the group of children, and you let go of your nephew's hand so you can greet them. after all, you'll be coming here quite often it seems.
"hi, just wanted to introduce myself."
"oh, the new stepmom?"
"what? no- i- what?" you're just as confused as them, and you look over to your nephew.
"oh, i'm so sorry! he keeps talking about his new mom and we just thought-"
his new mom? your confusion disappears when you see the little boy pointing his finger towards you, excitedly showing you off to his friends.
"no, no. i'm his aunt." you inform them.
before they get to say anything, the doors on the side of the stadium open, revealing a tall male wearing a jersey. you hear whispering behind you, maybe even a particularly long exhale, and you have to say that you agree with them.
the coach is stunning. he is drop dead gorgeous, and the more you look, the more self conscious you feel about your lazily picked outfit today. he is so tall and lean, his waist probably smaller than yours. his lips are plump and a pretty pink colour, and his hair a dirty blonde, almost a mullet. no wonder all the moms were dipped in makeup and dresses. you wore your brother's hoodie with his favorite football team logo on it, short leggings and zero makeup.
"hi, ladies." he greets, smiling at the group. he surely knows his impact.
his gaze stops on you, catching you red handed. you must've been staring at him weirdly, because he smiles wider your way, then finally lets the kids inside to change and get ready for the practice. all except...
"coach jeong! can my mom please come and watch me?"
"mom?" the coach is caught off guard, glancing your way.
"oh, no no, honey-" you try explaining. that man needs to know you're single.
"please?" the boy puts his palms together, and does his best puppy eyes to convince the man in front of him to let you in.
"well i- i guess. come in then." he holds the door open for you.
other women do not seem to take interest in going in and watching their children. instead, they greet the coach, then head over to the nearby café. your nephew tugs at your hand, smile so wide his eyes turn into half moons and he doesn't even see you.
"you little rascal." you scold him, ruffling his hair.
he runs off to the locker room, and you watch him drag the backpack that is almost bigger than him across the floor.
"well, this is an odd surprise. i didn't know he had a mother. not to be rude, of course."
"oh, i am not. i am his aunt." you finally explain.
"ah, so that's the case. i was wondering. you look so young."
he smells of freshly cut grass and a hint of manly sweat, mixed with some type of cologne. his face is clean shaven, giving you a chance to notice his sharp jawline as you walk together towards the football field.
"he is a gem, really. but, god, can he talk."
"i know. he got that one from me." you joke, knowing your nephew has outbursts of energy often.
yunho laughs, then opens another door for you. you finally step into the green field, nostrils immediately filling up with the pleasant smell of freshly mowed grass. you were never one for sports, but you gladly watched a game or two with your friends and now family. you wouldn't do it willingly on your own, you have more interesting things to do. but you don't hate it.
you also don't hate it when yunho places his hand on your lower back, guiding you towards the chairs where you've seen coaches and other member's of the team sit during matches. you thank heavens for the early winter sun and long sleeves, otherwise he would've seen the goosebumps from an innocent touch like that.
"have a seat. if they kick a ball in your direction, i'm sorry on their behalf."
"real comforting for my first live match, thanks."
the children run out on the field after changing, taking their positions on a white line in front of their coach. you study his moves, and needless to say, you find yourself squirming in the plastic chair quite soon. he is stern. he gives orders, guides them, and cares for them. you are turned on by something as simple as his yelling over the field. you never knew you could be so turned on by someone doing their job.
he starts the warmup, doing the squats and pushups with them. his arms aren't that big, but they are still muscular and decorated with bulging veins.
"coach, remember when you made us do pushups with your backpack on our back?" one of the older kids says.
"yeah, so? want another session?"
"no, no! i was just wondering if you could do the same." the rest of them start smirking, especially your nephew, and yunho scoffs.
"of course i can."
"but not with the backpack! with her on your back!" he points his little finger towards you, and you scoff.
"i don't think that's approp-"
"he can't do it," you accidentally interrupt, trying to save him.
he looks at you, one eyebrow cocked. you swear you could slip off the chair from the sudden rush of arousal.
"oh, really?" he asks, a smirk dancing on his lips.
"really." you decide to tease back, to see just how far it gets you.
"well why don't we try?"
he gets into the position, not even allowing you to decline. the team starts cheering, your nephew the loudest of them all.
"come on, now. sit on me."
you choke on your saliva. he smirks to himself, and you are ready to wipe it off. he likes teasing, doesn't he. little narcissist.
you walk over to him, purposely sitting on his back with force. but he holds, his wide back a comfortable seat. his arms start working his body. and your jaw drops at how easily he is doing the push ups with you on his back. the cheers get louder, seeing their coach effortlessly carry a person like that. he does a few more, just to show off, until you get off of him. your nephew runs over, hugging your leg and cheering for the handsome coach. yunho winks at you, then proceeds to train the boys.
your stops to the stadium become your new hobby. you sit on the same chair, watching the man teach the young ones, occasionally catching a glance or two from him, then arriving home and falling asleep mid day to the thoughts of his arms and voice. some days you fall asleep from simple thoughts, and some days you need a locked door and a buzzing device.
with each practice, he finds a way to somehow touch you. last time, he asked you to help him set up a new net on the goal frame. he couldn't "reach it", so he held you by your waist in the air while you secured it. if he can carry you around so easily, could he also carry you as he thrusts into you back in his office? or in the back of the-?
"guests! get up!" your mother knocks on the door, and you are quick to throw your gadget under your pillow, stopping the fantasies in your brain.
poor thing has been working non stop for the past few weeks, and still doesn't do a good enough job. sure, it gets you over the edge, but seeing yunho's slender fingers spin that ball so effortlessly when he is busy watching the kids play is just making it more complicated. not sure if on purpose, but lots of times he toys with the little hole on the ball that is there for inflating it. he circles it, slowly and carefully, eyes not leaving the green field. your eyes are locked on the ball and the middle finger rotating on the ball, mouth going dry as you almost feel that same finger circling your own hole.
"see? told you he's a gem." he interrupts your drooling one day.
"huh? oh, yes. absolutely." you catch a glimpse of your nephew celebrating victory.
you miss the way yunho bites his lip, hiding another smirk forming. he knows he has you wrapped around his finger, and he can almost smell the arousal off you. at first, he enjoyed teasing you for fun. but now? seeing that you've started showing up in short knitted winter dresses and knee high boots? it gets him going too. especially when you put those sunglasses on when you get in the car and help your nephew in his car seat, looking like a really hot young mom.
a mom he'd like to fuck all day every day in the back of the car after she drops her kids off at school.
"guests? who the hell is it?" you ask more yourself than your mother.
you throw on a sweater and the first pair of jeans you find, then check if you've put the vibrator away just in case a certain child decides to come in the room and snoop. it is securely locked in your drawer, along with a local newspaper cutout with yunho's figure on it, the jersey proudly stating his last name and his player number: nine. he looks dashing, so why not? you're not doing anything weird with it. just masturbating to it. no biggie. everyone does that.
it is a random wednesday and middle of the day. nobody familiar is coming to your mind when it comes to guests. but when you go downstairs and join your mother in the kitchen, you freeze. the big glass door to the patio is open, revealing the very coach you were just touching yourself to sitting on your favorite chair near the pool. your father hands him over a beer, like they do this every day.
"what is the coach doing here?"
"your brother invited him to wish him luck for the game next week." the woman simply explains, lining up the various cheese bites on toothpicks on the oval plate. "here, take this to your father while i grab a few more beers for them. for an athlete, you'd think he drinks less."
"mom!" you scold, in case he might have super hearing.
you carry the plate in one hand, while you use the other one to fix your hair. yunho is quick to notice you coming towards them, a smile forming on his lips as he examines you head to toe. you look cute in maroon and black, that oversized sweater hiding your waist from him. ever since he lifted you in the air that day to fix the net, he has been dreaming about holding that waist again. he wants to bite into it, leave purple marks all over it, kiss it and whatnot. you are just that addictive, and you didn't do anything but exist.
"hi, coach."
something about you calling him coach is setting his body on fire. it has the same effect on him as the word "daddy" or "sir" would have on someone else. he decides he enjoys hearing it from your lips. he hopes he'll get to hear it in a shape of a moan or gasp too.
"hi, my lovely assistant. did you know that your sister actually knows a thing or two about football?"
"soccer. and no, this dumbass right here?"
all three of you roll your eyes at his correction. yunho snickers, taking a sip of his beer.
"yes. she helps me set up the training ground and comes up with very interesting and actually beneficial stuff. the other day she even managed to score against our thirteen year old goalkeeper!"
you squint your eyes at the man, holding grudge for mocking you. he is half right, you did set up the training grounds for the kids. and you did score against the thirteen year old goalkeeper. go you!
"cheese?" you offer, stopping their little bullying session.
"why, thank you." he takes one, then continues his conversation about the upcoming game.
you run back to the kitchen, helping your mother with more drinks. you hear your nephew somewhere, and his quick and heavy footsteps.
"careful, i'm holding liquid!" you warn before he can bump into you.
you make your way towards the patio again, ready to secretly start flirting with his coach. you don't know how. you'll figure it out. only this time, he doesn't notice you coming, and stands up while still talking to your family. he doesn't hear you warn him over your nephew's loud and bad cover of the teenage mutant ninja turtles theme song, and walks straight into you, spilling the beverages all over his white t-shirt and your maroon sweater. you almost slip on the wet tiles, but his hands are quick to grab your waist and steady you. your body is pushed against his, soft breasts pressed against his own firm chest, your heart almost breaking through your ribcage and hitting his.
"shit, i'm so sorry." he finally lets go, then bends over to pick up the half empty cans of beer.
"oh, just leave it! i'll clean it up!" your voice is squeaky, hands still trembling from the interaction you just had.
his grasp is so firm, you want him to pick you up again just so you can feel that rush of lust one more time. the way his slender fingers pick up the pieces of glass from the floor shoots arrows to your core. a task so simple that it has you wondering if your brain is healthy for getting turned on by it.
"sweetie, will you go get coach yunho a new t-shirt so he can change? yunho, go with her, she will clean that up for you." your father offers, completely oblivious of your death glares.
the young man gladly accepts. he follows you quietly through the house, not yet speaking. you unlock your room, then let him in.
"ah, so this is what this door is? your nerdy little room. always wonder every time i come over."
you rummage through the pile of unironed clothes on the ironing desk in the corner of your room, trying to tell the difference from your brother's and father's plain white t-shirts.
"so you come here often?"
"not that often," he walks over to your nightstand, looking through the window above it, "they sometimes invite me for dinner or lunch as a thank you for training their grandson. say, why do you keep your room locked?"
you plug the iron into the socket, then wait for it to warm up as you turn to face him. his fingers are tracing the corner of the nightstand, somehow seductively.
"to keep my nephew from snooping." you laugh nervously, seeing how close his hand is to the forbidden drawer.
"right," he hums, nodding his head.
the iron makes a sound, notifying you that it is ready for use. you turn your back towards him, ironing the creases in the soft fabric. you hear him walk around the room, probably admiring your poor taste of room decorating when you were seventeen. you didn't manage to redecorate much, only bring in some things from your old home. like the very toy that is buzzing in his hand right now.
"interesting."
"god, give me that." your cheeks are flaming hot.
you hid today's pink pleasure, but forgot about the yesterday's one, also from an interrupted session. he holds the silver bullet vibrator in his hand, playing with the settings on it.
"give it back! it's dirty, how can you even touch it?"
"oh, so it's recently been to places? i don't know, looks pretty clean to me."
you reach for the shiny item, but he is quick to throw it in his other hand. he smiles, amused by your poor attempts at getting the gadget back.
"we can do this all day, or..." he points it towards you, like a magic wand, "you can show me the proper use of it."
your heart drops, and your stomach feels like a centipede is walking all over it. your mouth goes dry, and your eyes feel like they're going to jump out of the sockets.
"what?" you manage to say.
"show me how you use it." he simply says.
"you're crazy. here's your t-shirt." you grab it from the desk, avoiding eye contact with him.
you hear his wet one drop on the floor, and he reaches for the one in your hand. instead of grabbing the clothing item, he grabs your wrist, pulling your body into his bare one. you gasp, eyes looking up into his as his other hand snakes around your waist, vibrator still secure between his fingers.
"those jeans are driving me crazy." he admits in a whisper. "and looking at that bed, i can't stop imagining you using this on your dripping little cunt after coming back from my practice."
you hate that he is right, but you won't tell him that. ever.
"i have more attractive things to masturbate about." you whisper too, eyes dropping down on his pink lips.
"like what?"
"like that substitute coach from monday morning?"
"ah, so your little hole only clenches for song mingi? got it."
he lets go of you, throwing the vibrator on the bed. you gulp as you watch him wear the freshly ironed warm t-shirt, eyes running down to his v-line and defined abs. he is so damn hot.
"i should get back there. wouldn't want anyone to know how desperate you are for me." he winks.
"i'm not desperate!" you reach for a pillow, ready to aim it at that smirking face.
the next few days, you ask your father to take the boy to the practice. he is sad, but if you look at yunho one more time after a good training session, after his jersey starts sticking to his skin and reveals all his curves and hollows, after his sun kissed skin starts shining from sweat, and after his veins start bulging even more, you might drop on your knees at his feet and just take him in your mouth right there in the middle of the field. with nobody around, of course.
the derby is getting closer and closer, and you go to the practice one more time before it accompanying your father. you sit quietly as you watch him fidget in his usual spot. he doesn't yell today. he doesn't instruct. he doesn't do a warmup. he lets the kids play whatever they want, just shushing them when they start cussing and punishing them with burpees. he is nervous about the game, that you know.
"hey," you call after practice.
your father is busy helping his grandson change his footwear, while you busy yourself with comforting the coach.
"it'll be good. you'll win, i know it."
"our goalkeeper is kinda shit. he has been alcoholizing himself the past few days, too nervous about the derby. i'm afraid he is going to get some kind of poisoning, or that he'll show up drunk. or hung over. i don't care about the win at that point, our image will be destroyed."
you hum, looking over at the dark clouds approaching in the distance.
"get some sleep tonight. if you want, call me. i am known to put people to sleep with my talking."
he laughs, sincerely. nothing flirty this time. "will do, darling."
"i'll see you tomorrow then, coach. hopefully with a trophy in your hand."
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the game went fabulously. they destroyed the other team, despite the goal keeper being a little hung over just how yunho predicted. they all cheer, your nephew is going crazy in the front row, and so are you. shiny confetti is flying everywhere, some of it landing on yunho's head. he is holding the trophy above his head, pure happiness on his face. he is cute.
the celebration continues in the decorated basketball hall, drinks and food already served and music already blasting. the audience is slowly leaving to join the team in proper celebration, and it takes almost half an hour for the place to properly empty before you can move. a few families stay behind, cleaning after everyone and collecting lost items to hand them over to the doorkeeper later. you and your mother stay to help, collecting all the confetti and food remains.
"miss! miss!"
you turn around, almost bumping into a woman. she holds a backpack in her hand, and hands it over to you.
"would you be a sugar and go give this to player nine in the locker room? their coach had to go and didn't have time to give this to him."
"but-"
"thank you so much! i've gotta run."
and indeed, she does run. your mother nudges you with her elbow, rushing you towards the stairs and to the entrance under the bleachers.
you do not know where you are going. the hallway is empty, and there are no signs on any doors. you almost reach the end, hopelessly dragging the heavy backpack with you. a door to a locker room is half opened, and you decide to knock. receiving no response, you carefully enter, the strong smell of body spray pinching your nose.
"coach?" you call.
he doesn't answer. you set the backpack on one of the benches, then make your way towards the other side of the room. a jersey is discarded on it, the number nine proudly facing up from the bench. you reach for it, feeling the fabric in your hand. he smells so good. not a strong scent, like the rest of them have. he is more of a soft vanilla mixed with slight sandalwood. you bury your nose in the fabric, surprised that even after sweating so much after the game, the jersey isn't smelly and wet.
two hands creep onto your waist, startling you and making you jump.
"i snooped through your things, so now you have to snoop through mine?" he teases.
you feel his naked wet chest press against your thin blouse, and a slight bulge in the back of your pants. he turns you around swiftly, allowing you to take a good look at him. he is fresh out of the shower, smelling absolutely heavenly. his hair is not yet dry, waterbeads sliding down his neck and collarbones and disappearing down his v-line into the towel he has so carefully wrapped around him. it hangs low on his hips, probably on purpose.
"aren't you going to congratulate me?"
"congratulations?"
"i was thinking about a different kind of congratulations. something like..." his finger pulls at the belt hoop of your pants, then lets it snap against your skin, "this."
"you have to play another match to get to that point," you tease.
"do i now?"
truth is, you wish for nothing more than to get down on your knees and have him twitch in your mouth. you so desperately need it. so you let your hand reach for his towel, easily undoing it and letting it fall on the floor. you don't look down just yet, eyes locked with his. yunho finally grabs your face by your jaw, pulling you in for a hot kiss. his tongue is quick to find yours, circling it and rubbing it all the right ways. your blouse doesn't get unbuttoned. ripping it open seems faster to yunho, firm hands shredding the fabric and letting buttons fly to the floor. you gasp at the action, and he is quick to place his hands on your breasts. you're thankful for wearing a decent bra today, not one of those you had as a teen.
"i'll have to see you wearing my jersey and bouncing on my cock one day after practice. think you could do that?"
"i think i very much could," you say, excitement running in your veins.
yunho sits on the bench, trying to pull you into his lap. you stop him, dropping down on your knees. a proper congratulations.
you take a moment to admire his length. he isn't thick, but he is very long. he feels hot under your fingers, eager to be taken cared of. your tongue gets a first taste of him, and soon after, you're struggling to take him in. he is too big for you, but the pleasure is too good for him to back away. he grabs your hair, pushing your head down to make you swallow as much of him as you can.
"yunho?"
you freeze around his cock, eyes going wide. you are hidden by a row of lockers, but only a few steps in and the whole situation would be visible to the poor intruder.
"keep going," yunho mumbles, caressing your cheek.
you slowly start swallowing him again, working your tongue around him.
"yes?" he says, masking his pleasure well.
"everyone is waiting for you, man. they already finished off that fruit tart you were waiting for!"
"let me just take a quick shower and i'll be right there."
"if you say so."
the door shuts, and yunho spares no time in ramming his cock into your mouth a few more times before pulling you off and picking you up. he slams you against the lockers, hands firm on your thighs. he manages to take off your pants, not bothering with the panties. he only pushes them aside, and not even bothering to stretch you out beforehand, carefully inserts his hot muscle inside of you. it is no use biting your hand down to hide the noises, his pace continiously ramming into the soft spot inside of you, making your eyes roll back.
"you'll have to be a bit more quiet, baby." he says, voice low and raspy.
you look at him, your body completely relaxed in his hands as you take every pump he has to offer. yunho looks at you as if he is trying to hypnotize you, with eyes so focused on your face, examining every single reaction you have to his moves.
"we wouldn't want anyone to interrupt again, would we?"
you shake your head, unable to speak. you can only moan, louder and louder, as your fingers desperately tug on his still damp hair. having had enough of your loud noises, yunho carries you to the bench, cock still buried deep inside of you. he lays you on the bench, then reaches over your head to grab something.
"open up for me," he instructs.
you do, and he gently places his jersey between your lips so it muffles your moans.
"good girl," he praises, then continues his moves.
the fabric in your mouth proves itself useful, successfully muffling the noises you make. not long after, you feel the pleasure building up in the bottom of your stomach.
"fuck, you're clenching so much, i'm going to cum soon," he hisses, hands desperately gripping your waist.
you look at him with pleading eyes, hoping he would take the message and make you cum too. he recognizes it, and brings his hand to his mouth, wetting his fingers. he then places them on your clit, rubbing the tense bud in ways that have your back arching from the bench, mentally begging him for release already.
"fuck-" he groans, speeding up.
you bite down on the fabric, focusing on reaching the sweet release, clenching your walls to help him reach his too. he moans, for the first time, throwing his head back as he fucks his seed into you, filling you up until you can't take it anymore and let it spill on the bench. the new warm sensation inside of you triggers your own orgasm, your hands reaching for his as you twitch, orgasm washing over your body in multiple ways.
yunho holds your hands above your head, pressing kisses along your exposed collarbones and neck, calming you as you get down from the high. it takes you a while to come back to your senses, feeling yunho's hair tickling your bare skin as he still peppers your skin with kisses.
he laughs fondly, seeing what a mess he made out of you. removing the jersey from your mouth, he wastes no time in kissing you properly, this time a bit softer than before.
you pull away, the cold air from the air conditioner finally hitting your bare skin and sweat, making you shiver.
"so..." you breathe out.
"so..." he repeats.
"when is your next match again?"
feedback greatly appreciated! 💕
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pairing ✭ caring bf!yunho x gn!reader
synopsis ✭ yunho absolutely loves it when you play with his hoodie strings. even though you rarely notice you’re doing it.
content/genre ✭ fluff, established relationship
word count ✭ 1.2k
notes ✭ this was a request from @justsomedreaming :)
thank you loves for the requests! they are still open. if you want to leave a request, just read my guidelines first! i'd love to hear from you.
also! i love love love hearing feedback about all of my work, and i also just love hearing from ya'll. so if you want to come say hi, my dms and inbox are always open!! 💗💗
✭✭✭✭
“Baby, where do you keep the popcorn bowl again?” Yunho yelled from your kitchen.
“It should be in the cabinet to the right of the microwave.”
You heard him rustle through the cabinet before he shouted again, “Oh! I found it!”
“Yun my apartment isn’t that big. You don’t have to yell,” you laughed softly at him from your spot on the couch.
He gave a soft “sorry” before going back to his search.
You had offered to help him make the popcorn several times, but he’d insisted that you let him do something nice for you. The amount of nice things he did for you were nearly countless, but you didn’t mind letting him have this gesture too even if you were a little worried that your apartment might smell of burnt popcorn for the next three days.
Nevertheless, you let him have his moment. He loved taking care of you, so who were you to take that away from him? Especially when it meant you could stay cuddled up on the couch with your hot chocolate, scrolling through streaming services to find a suitable movie for your date night.
When you finally settle on a movie, you peer over to your boyfriend in the kitchen. He’s dumped the bag of popcorn into a bowl and is digging around in your cabinets for more snacks to go with the popcorn. 
He’s so focused. You love how serious he is about things like this. He cares so much about even the little things, and he never fails to make you feel so special. 
It took him a couple of minutes, but, when he plopped himself on the couch beside you, he came armed with plenty of snacks. Not just the popcorn, but he also had a variety of chips and chocolates, too.
“Wow, you really spoil me,” you said, reaching for the popcorn bowl. When you placed the bowl in your lap, he immediately stuck his hand into it and grabbed a fistful of popcorn. “Ok, now you’re just being greedy.”
He laughed and kissed your forehead before shoving the food into his mouth rather ungracefully. As gross as you may have found it, you did love the fact that he felt so comfortable around you. Even if it meant being a victim to some of his obnoxious behaviors.
“What movie did you choose?” He asked, pulling your legs over his thighs so that you were basically in his lap.
“Barbie Princess Charm School,” you said, gesturing to the TV with the remote.
“Seriously?” he smiled down at you, eyebrows raised. He was making fun of you, but you were standing your ground.
“Yep! It is a vital part of my childhood, and it’s a crime you have never seen it.” You poked him in the chest, “And it is my turn to pick the movie, remember?”
He loved how passionate you were about this. The only reason he teased you over it was because he loved to see you so adamantly fight for why the movie was worth watching. 
When you pressed play on the movie, Yunho leaned back into the couch, pulling you with him. 
“How was your day?” he muttered, running a hair over your hair. 
You looked up at him and hummed, running your hand over his chest and playing with the fabric of his hoodie, “It was alright. We’re still pretty short-staffed staffed so things have been hectic, but tips have been good. So I guess that makes up for it.”
He gently grabbed your hand and kissed your knuckles, “I’m sure you’ll find more people soon.”
You sighed, “I hope.”
“Baby, if you need a break, take one, okay? I know you don’t like financial help, but I’m always here for you,” he lowered your hand back to his chest and kissed your forehead again, “Don’t overwork yourself.”
“Thank you, baby.”
He looked down at you. It was obvious from the bags under your eyes and the tone of your voice when talking about work that you were stressed. The biggest sign of your anxiety was that you were fidgeting with your hands quite a bit. That’s why he’d made a point to kiss your knuckles, he wanted you to understand with every part of you, both conscious and subconscious, that he was going to take care of you. 
“Hey,” he started, wanting to get your mind off work, “Didn’t you get lunch with that high school friend of yours?”
“Oh yeah! I meant to tell you about that.”
“How’d that go?” He encouraged.
He watched you very adamantly as you spoke of the little lunch date you’d had with an old friend. It had gone well from the looks of things. From the remembering smile on your face to the levity of your tone, he could tell that this meal had brought some sort of solace to your rather hectic life. 
It wasn’t long into your story though, that Yunho noticed you had started playing with the strings of his hoodie. He smiled fondly. He was pretty sure you never really noticed it. It felt more like a habit.
Nonetheless, he enjoyed watching you fiddle with the strings. Tying them into bows and knots as you talked. It gave you something to do with your hands, and that fact alone made Yunho incredibly happy. He was able to give you something, even if it was a minute gesture, to calm your nerves. 
The both of you forgot about the movie completely. Though you both never fully watched the movies you put on anyway. It always ended this way. One of you talking about your life while the other listened. Peacefully eating snacks and occasionally watching the movie in its final moments.
“But, yeah, it was really good to see them again,” you smiled softly at him.
“I’m glad you had fun, baby,” he leaned down toward your face again, this time kissing you on the lips. He was so gentle in moments like these. 
It was a simple gesture of his love for you, but you loved how he could make soft, quiet moments even more beautiful with a small kiss.
You did, however, pull on the strings of his hoodie, trying to pull him closer to you. He grinned against your lips, laughing just a bit.
Pulling back you looked at him, slightly confused, “What?”
“What do you mean?”
You were really confused now, “You laughed at me?”
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” his smile only grew.
“Yunho,” you hit him in the chest, though, not very hard.
“I’m just teasing you, baby,” he pecked your lips again.
You scoffed playfully, poking his cheek, “Well stop teasing me.”
“Okay, no more teasing,” he grabbed the hand you had by his face and pressed it to his chest. He brought his lips to yours one more time for good measure. This time letting it last a few more seconds before pulling back a couple of inches from your face, “I love you.” He whispered.
It was your turn to smile stupidly at him, “I love you, too.”
You pulled him back down and kissed him. He couldn’t help but grin again at the fact that you had pulled him to you with your hands tangled in his hoodie strings.
✭✭✭✭
notes ✭ thank you for reading!! as always, reblogs and comments are very appreciated. i absolutely love hearing from you guys, so don't be afraid to come say hi 💗
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bvidzsoo · 3 days
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drunk texting bff!Ateez and accidentally confessing you're into them
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author: bvidzsoo
tw: nsfw
a/n: another random one lol kill me atp, these were so not supposed to be nsfw idk what happened, help. perhaps a few of these are...strong, if you know what i mean, lol. don't mind me, enjoy!
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⚞ Masterlist ⚟
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sungbeam · 21 days
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nonidol!jeong yunho x f!reader
yunho might have been the superstar out of the two of you, but you have always been the center of his universe. (you — it's always been you.)
▷ genre, warnings. bffs2l, childhood friends 2 lovers, pining, popstar/singer au, swearing, fluff, humor, angst, hurt/comfort, kissing, mentions of alcohol, mentions of anxiety/nervousness, they physically cannot be apart for too long sorry they've got Attachment Issues low-key..., one kiss (is all it takes—)
▷ word count. 16.3k (guys,, this was supposed to be only like 6-8k i swear 😭)
▷ associated tunes. keep smiling (demxntia), gone too long (lullaboy), tear in my heart (twenty-one pilots)
a/n: hope u guys like this :'))) i had one of the scenes from here stuck in my brain for awhile and so i had to build the rest of the fic around it, and it turned into this monster, so uhm yes... also much love to @jaehunnyy tysm for reading thru it for me 💖
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THE DAY YUNHO'S ALBUM hit the Billboard Hot 100, you knew that you were going to need a lot more hands on deck than just you, your roommate, and Jeong Yunho himself.
“There's not enough albums, not enough time in the day, not enough of you!” You exclaimed with your fingers shoved into your hair as you took in the landscape of chaos before you on your living room floor. “Yunho, why couldn't you be ambidextrous?”
His eyes widened, body frozen where he was shoving a slice of beef jerky into his mouth. “Mwe? Pwhy are pyu yellinh ap mwe por?”
“I'm not yelling at you; I'm just wondering why you weren't born with eight arms instead of just two.” There were simply too many albums for him to sign before his agent came to pick them up in two hours, and there were also too few albums for the amount of demand. You always knew your best friend would make it big one day, but you also thought he would have had a whole team by that time.
Technically, you were his team—you, your roommate Trinity, and Mingi who was at his grandmother's for the long weekend. Mingi was five texts away from driving back down to help you guys four hours ago though. But his family needed him right now, and Yunho was firm in ensuring Mingi didn't have to come down and help. We got this, he'd said. It'll be easy, he also said.
Sure. Easy.
“We can't just forge his signature?” Trinity joked in a sleep-deprived daze as she leaned back against the couch cushions. Her mouth opened wide in a yawn. “I'm kidding. Let's not ruin his career.”
Yunho swallowed his bite. “That would be nice.” He cleaned his fingers on the Wet Wipe he had handy by his thigh, then picked up his black Sharpie, spinning the writing utensil between his fingers. “Now where were we? Album number fifty-six—?”
This had taken place just four months after Yunho released his second album, Aurora. It had been nearly a year and a half since Yunho debuted himself onto the music scene, and it was about time people finally began to recognize your best friend for all that he was—multi-talented, charismatic, handsome (on some occasions; you wouldn’t let him catch you slipping up there, though).
Within the next year and a half, Yunho skyrocketed into further altitudes of fame.
There were plenty of changes that occurred, many evolutions to Yunho's team and additions to his discography, but you were always a part of it. Even with your own career dealings, you would drop anything to be there for him, and him for you. Between the morning show interviews and late night recording sessions, there were also the research presentations and study session pick-me-ups.
“Are you sure you don't wanna come with?” You asked from where you were stationed in front of the bathroom mirror, putting on the final touches for your look this evening.
You could hear Trinity's fingers clacking away at her keyboard at the speed of light through her open bedroom door. “I'd love to, but I unfortunately did screw myself over by procrastinating on this paper. Have fun though, and tell Yunho congrats for me.”
Tonight was the album release party for Yunho's third full studio album entitled Youth. It was something he had been working on for years now, only recently having become satisfied with the tracks he chose and produced for it. Due to his sudden rise in fame, the release party was said to be hosting a myriad of big name celebrities and figures in the music industry. And of course, you. You were no one special, in hindsight, but Yunho couldn't begin to imagine celebrating a milestone without you by his side.
By eight o'clock, you were ready to head out.
You bid Trinity goodbye as you hustled out the front door of your apartment and down to the street below. Yunho and Mingi and everyone else would already be at the party; you would arrive on your own via Uber. You wished you could've been with him to get ready like all the other times, but your schedule had been unfortunate as of late. You were lucky enough to have gotten off of work this early.
As you sat in the backseat of your ride, you anxiously fidgeted with your phone in your lap.
(You were, without a doubt, excited to arrive at the party. Due to yours and Yunho's ever-busy and ever-conflicting schedules nowadays—yours because of work and PhD candidacy stuff, Yunho's because of rehearsals for his upcoming world tour—it had been awhile since you were able to hang out in person. You missed your gentle giant of a best friend.)
A loud vibration from it made your heart leap into your throat, and your face lit up in the dark with the incoming notification.
rockstar 🤟: pls tell me you've left the house
You snorted and typed out a swift reply. If I told you I was still in my pajamas…
rockstar 🤟: then i would call u a liar cuz u don't go to work in pjs, weirdo rockstar 🤟: just getting antsy tbh rockstar 🤟: need my star here w me :’)))
You couldn't help the touched pout that came to your face. I'm almost there, don't worry. And who are you calling a star when that's you? He always got a little sappy when he was nervous.
rockstar 🤟: im literally not having fun here without u hurry up :// your phone: isn't this UR album release party 😭 yun, why aren't u having fun? rockstar 🤟: just hurry up your phone: aish okok 🤧 eta 8min mr. impatient
You knew it was the jitters making him say things like that. Once you got there, you hoped you could help reassure him that he could stop worrying for just a second to enjoy himself. Even if Yunho worried about the album and what people thought, you were just as nervous. You hadn't even heard the entire thing—he’d been cheeky and didn't tell you he added a song to it last minute, but you'd listened to everything else.
You just hoped that people would continue to celebrate him and give him the love he deserved.
When your Uber driver pulled into the drop off loop at the front of the venue, you thanked him on your way out and threw the strap of your small purse over your shoulder. Already, however, as you were met with the residuals of flashing camera lenses and frantic paparazzi calls just a little ways down the driveway, the anxiety slowly began to settle in the pit of your stomach.
You could see the celebrities going up the entrance with people asking them to pose for their cameras, to say a word into their recorders.
Immediately, you turned on your heel and began slipping your way to a side entrance. The last thing you wanted was for dozens upon dozens of people to be staring at you, wondering who you were and why you were important. There were definitely people who knew you—you were plastered all over Yunho's social media because that was just what best friends did. But compared to everyone else walking up that driveway? Not a chance. You were nobody, and that was ay-okay to you.
Just as you thanked one of the employees coming out the side door for letting you in, you felt your phone buzz in your hand again, this time with an incoming call.
You picked it up and squeezed it between your ear and shoulder. “You're gonna need to speak up—the kitchen is super loud.”
“You're here finally!” Yunho said to you through the phone. “I was starting to get worried.”
You chuckled as you ducked out of the kitchen and into the main lobby to get to the elevators. The party was taking place somewhere on the seventh floor… if you could get there without getting lost. “Hey Yun, do me a favor?”
“Sure.”
“Calm down, man.”
The elevator sang its arrival and you stepped inside to the sound of Yunho sucking in a deep breath, then exhaling slowly. “I am calm… wait, are you in the lobby? Let me come down and get y—”
“I just got in the elevator, so don't worry—and I really don't think you should be leaving your own party, rockstar,” you teased. “Man, Mingi and Hwa really pulled out all the stops for this place,” you marveled quietly as you gave the elevator carriage a thorough look. It was made of marble and mirrors, every surface polished and crisp, like that of a tailored suit if tailored suits were made of crystals.
“Yeah, it's really great,” he agreed. “Remember the release party we threw for Crescent?”
A fond laugh tumbled out of your lips as you stepped out of the elevator and onto the seventh floor. Your mind filled with memories of his debut album's release party hosted in yours and Trinity's living room with three extra large Domino's pizzas, root beer floats, and a cheap disco ball. It had been a party for four that night—you, Yunho, Mingi, and Trinity—but your friends didn't need the fancy shit to have fun. “Definitely leagues away from this.”
There was a bouncer at the far end of the hallway, and you were certain now that you were in the right place.
“I kind of miss it,” Yunho murmured. You heard the sound on his end shift, simultaneous to watching the doors in front of you crack open and see Yunho's head pop out into the empty hallway.
“I kind of miss it, too,” you said into the phone, your eyes locked on his and a smile blooming over your features at the sight of your best friend, in the flesh.
There was a tender gleam in his eyes as he took you in and said something in a low tone to the bouncer. He stepped out into the hallway, letting the doors behind him shut fully.
“Slowpoke,” was his greeting to you as he scooped you into his embrace. The smell of his cologne was something familiar and delicious, and permeated your senses.
“Worrywart,” you quipped back, wrapping your arms around him to reciprocate.
When you both pulled back, he kept you at arm's length so he could take a better look at you. “I can't believe you're calling me the worrywart! I do recall that one night when Aurora hit the Top 100—”
You silenced him with a look and a playful punch to his shoulder. You pressed your lips together to suppress a smile as he tilted his head back in a jovial laugh. “Quiet, you. For once, I can't believe you're more nervous than I am.”
He gave a sheepish grin, fussing with the unbuttoned collar of his dress shirt, adjusting the chain he wore on his collarbones so the clasp sat right at the hollow of his throat.
You softened. Oh, he was really nervous.
“This album's just big for me; you know that,” he said, almost like he was trying to brush it off.
“I do.” The two of you began slowly making your way back towards the party doors. “Though, I'm excited to hear this mystery song that you snuck on there. I'm sure everyone will fall in love with the album, just like I did.”
He peered over at you then, and you couldn't understand why you were unable to read his expression then. It was… different. “Really?”
You blinked. “Of course,” you replied automatically. “I mean,” you added, “it's you, Yun. What's not to love?”
Yunho seemed speechless for a second, but moments later, he was breaking into a soft-cornered smile. “You always know what to say, Yn. Come on, there are some people who are dying to meet you.”
“Dying to meet me?” You laughed as the bouncer let the two of you into the party.
The party room was a rented out lounge space with wraparound windows that looked out at the skyline in the valley below. The main lights were kept low and warm, illuminating strategic places throughout the space to highlight the prohibition-like interior design. It was something out of a 1920s speakeasy with its velvet couches and dark mahogany wood finishes.
Yunho took you over toward the side of the room to get food first. There was a variety of snacks and small bites on the buffet table, and there was a bar counter shoved into the far corner where a bartender served drinks.
“I've pretty much socialized with everyone in this room already,” Yunho murmured to you as he shoved his hands into his pockets and grinned. “Meaning I can bug you for the rest of the night.”
Your eyebrows shot up. “There has to be, like, fifty people here. We still have the whole party left.”
“Yeah, but I have more fun with you anyway,” he said with a shrug. He reached for one of the little serving cups that held a little roll of rice armed with a slice of wagyu beef on top, all wrapped together with a strip of nori. “Now these—these are fucking amazing, dude. You have to try one.”
You snorted, but grabbed one of the little cups. “How many of these have you eaten already, Yun?”
He tapped his cup against yours like he was clinking glasses together. He chuckled, averting his gaze. “We don't have to talk about that…” His eyes caught onto someone nearby, and he perked up, shoving the entire bite into his mouth so he had a free hand to flag down whoever it was. “Mmh!”
You nearly choked on your own bite as you watched your best friend, who's cheeks were stuffed like a chipmunk's, flap his arm around in the air to get this person's attention because his mouth was currently occupied.
You turned your head to see who he was waving over, and nearly choked again, having to cup your hand over your mouth to prevent rice from falling out. Your eyes widened an alarming amount. “Mmno—!” You mumbled through your bite.
“What? I can't hear you,” he snickered. “Hongjoong hyung! There's someone I want you to meet.”
You made a crazed gesture—no, no, I'm not ready! How dare you ambush me with social interac—you swallowed the food in your mouth as Hongjoong made his way over. You had never met the famed Kim Hongjoong—legendary producer, prodigy musician, favorite model to ever strut down the Paris Fashion Week Runway. He dropped off the grid for a brief three-month hiatus until he suddenly reappeared, but in your best friend's Instagram story. At some point, Yunho had met Hongjoong and won his favor. Then again, it was easy for Yunho to win over anyone's favor.
No one really knew why Hongjoong disappeared like he had, but some speculate it had something to do with his new relationship status: single.
You were always starstruck seeing Hongjoong on Yunho and Mingi's social media, as well as Hongjoong's own platforms. Tonight was no exception.
Hongjoong's hair of the season was a simple light brown that complimented his skin tone and the warmth in his smile. You were used to seeing him in more extravagant garb, but tonight, he chose something very simple, but chic like Yunho.
Yunho and Hongjoong clasped hands in greeting. “What's up, man?” The latter chirped, eyes flickering over to you as you attempted to behave normally.
Yunho gestured toward you, his eyes twinkling as he swept his arm around your shoulders to bring you forward. “This is Yn. Yn, this is Hongjoong. He's the one who produced the album—”
“Now, don't downplay your own efforts, Yunho,” Hongjoong cut in with a knowing look. “You produced so much of it on your own; I fine-tuned and made a couple tracks, but the rest was all you, man.”
“I always tell him he's far too humble,” you agreed.
Hongjoong sent you a smile, extending his hand out. “Great minds think alike, Yn. It's very nice to meet the person this guy doesn't ever stop talking about.”
You laughed good-naturedly and saw Yunho's flushed sheepishness out of the corner of your eye. You shook Hongjoong's hand with a firm, confident grip. “Nice to meet you, too. You're—you’re incredible, by the way. I remember when Yunho posted a photo with you, and I literally screamed his ear off over the phone.”
Yunho winced and held a hand up to his ear, as if remembering the physical sensation of that phone call. “Yup, definitely damaged my eardrum that day.”
“Well, thank you; I'm flattered,” Hongjoong replied pleasantly. “So I'm assuming you've probably heard as much of the album as I have then?”
“I'm sure you've heard the whole thing,” you said. “Yunho has withheld one of the tracks from me, but I've listened to all the rest.”
He cocked his head to the side. “Oh? Which track did—oh.” As he and Yunho made eye contact, you watched as a silent understanding passed between them, and Hongjoong's mouth tugged upward in a teasing smile. “That song.”
You blinked. “What does that mean?”
Hongjoong flourished his hand as if to wave away the thought. “He just wanted it to be perfect, so we were working on it up to the last second. Nothing terribly concerning.”
Ah. You relaxed, but the curiosity still lingered in your mind's eye. “I'm sure it's great, nonetheless.”
“Oh yeah, you're gonna love—”
“Oh-kay! That's enough about the song,” Yunho chuckled nervously as he grabbed your shoulders and began steering you away from a clearly amused Hongjoong. “Let's go say hi to Mingi, hm?”
You threw him a look from over your shoulder, but went along with him toward wherever he'd seen Mingi wandering around. “What has gotten into you tonight?” You teased, though, you also hoped to know why he was so jittery. He wasn't even this nervous about dropping his debut album.
Yunho showed you a bright smile, the same kind of golden-retriever expression that the media knew him well for. It would have been enough if you didn't know him. “Again, it's an important album to me. And the song I added last minute is on the deluxe version, so I wasn't really confident in putting it on the original release.”
“Ah,” you murmured. You reached up to pat the hand that rested on your left shoulder reassuringly. “I'm sure it really is a great song, Yun, and I'm not just saying that. You can make an awful omelet, but you can't make an awful song.”
Your best friend bursted into laughter at the latter comment, and your heart soared to see the genuine smile on his face now. That was your Yunho shining through. “You're right—if I can't scramble eggs, at least I can write a song.”
Over the next hour and a half, Yunho took you on a tour around the room, jumping from friend to friend to introduce you to more of his world. For the most part, however, it felt like an excuse for you to bond with all his friends in teasing him about something or other. But he seemed content enough to see you getting along well with the other people close to him.
He had met plenty of your friends at your work, so it was only fair that you got the same opportunity.
At some point while you were with Wooyoung and San discussing all of the rehearsals for Yunho's upcoming world tour, Hongjoong summoned everyone's attention to announce that it was time to listen to the album. It would be a rather casual affair with the Youth album playing in the background of the party, but you were certain people would minimize their conversations to listen in.
You craned your neck to peer around the crowd to see where Yunho had gone off to. “Wait, guys, did you see where Yunho went?”
Wooyoung and San joined your search, but quickly hustled you into a nearby booth to sit and enjoy the album with your drinks. “He'll find us,” Wooyoung assured you as the three of you slipped into the leather seats. “He wouldn't miss this.”
“He'll at least be here by the last song,” San said offhandedly, his eyebrows wagging up and down.
Your lips parted, your face morphing into feigned offense. “Wait. Did he let you guys listen to the deluxe edition song, too?”
“Maybe,” Wooyoung giggled.
San cooed at your pout. “Awwh, don't take it to heart, Yn-ie. It was supposed to be a surprise for you.”
You raised your drink to your lips, sighing before taking a sip. “Everybody talks about this damn song as if he wrote it for me.”
Unbeknownst to you, the two others at the table exchanged pointed looks between one another when you were looking away. It was a wonder how Yunho was able to keep this all a secret from you. Though, even San and Wooyoung knew how busy you could get nowadays, so perhaps it really was just that easy. Plus, they had all at one point or another been privy to Yunho’s feelings—
“Speak of the Devil,” you perked up at the sight of your best friend emerging from the crowd with the others—Hongjoong, Seonghwa, Mingi, Jongho (vocal coach and album feature), and Yeosang (PR management)—in tow behind him. “We were wondering where you had gone off to.”
Yunho grinned as the lot of them squished into the circular seating arrangement with you, San, and Wooyoung. “Sorry, had to go round everyone up. The album should be queued up and ready to go.” He chose to sit on the end of the booth to your right while everyone else filled it up from the other side.
You offered him a sip of your drink, and he gladly took the glass from you. “So San and Woo were just telling me about how their tour prep is coming. You guys are leaving—what was it—two weeks from now?”
He hummed, smacking his lips as he set the glass back down on the table. “Yeah, it should be just about two weeks,” he said. His arm came up to rest against the back of the booth seat behind you. “You know, you can still come to the first stop with us…” This was said with a very pointed look at you from Yunho, followed by similar expressions from everyone else around the table.
“And you know that day’s when my supervisor holds quarterly meetings that are mandatory,” you shot back. As much as you hated the timing, the day that Yunho and the team planned to fly to their first stop on his world tour, you were required to be present for a very important meeting at work.
The Youth World Tour was something Yunho had been looking forward to and preparing for a long time. Besides working on the Youth album itself, his working hours extended over the past year or so to get ready for this major milestone. You would definitely be able to meet up with them at one of the tour stops, you just weren’t sure which one yet.
Things at your workplace were a little rocky as of late due to shifting management, but you would play it by ear. For your best friend, of course you would make it work somehow.
Your ears pricked up at the sound of strings strumming overhead and your heart leapt out of your ribcage for a moment. “Oh my god, I love this song.”
“You and me both, Yn,” Hongjoong chuckled across the table from you, reaching over so you could bump fists with him, “you’ve got good taste.”
“You’re only saying that because you wrote this one specifically,” Yunho sputtered out a laugh while rolling his eyes.
“It’s a good message,” you said, picking up your drink to take a generous gulp of it. There was a little left at the bottom of the martini glass and you swirled the liquid around before handing it over to Yunho to finish. “I think this one will definitely make it onto my work playlist.”
Yunho draped the back of his hand over his forehead, setting the now empty glass on the table. “Wow, relegated to the work playlist. Is that all I am to you?”
“You are a mood maker,” you pointed out with a teasing smile.
“Bro, you're complaining as if Yn doesn't put her work playlist on for everything she does.” Mingi arched his brows over the rims of his sunglasses. (Why was he wearing sunglasses indoors and at night? You didn't know; he said something about looking cool.)
Wooyoung chuckled. “What? So let's say you're trying to sleep—”
“Yah, I have a different playlist for that! I'm not completely unreasonable.”
“Completely,” Yunho and Mingi said at the same time, then looked at each other with wide, excited eyes. They bursted out laughing at once, too, leaving you to deadpan at the two clowns to your eleven o'clock and three o'clock.
You sighed. “I hate you guys.”
That only made them laugh louder, spurring on the others to crack smiles and for you to do the same.
Yunho calmed slightly, his cheeks hurting from smiling. “Aw, you walked right into that one, Yn.”
“So you're saying you are, in some capacity, unreasonable—oh my god, don't hurt me!” Mingi shrieked as he shoved Yeosang's body in front of him like a human shield as you lurched forward and threatened to grab him.
Yeosang sent Mingi a dirty look as he wrestled out of his neighbor's hold. “Dude.”
“Jongho, protect me.”
The vocal coach popped the olive from his martini into his mouth. “If you can't handle the heat, hyung, stay out of the kitchen.”
You nodded, raising your pointer finger up. “Exactly.”
For the next hour, you and your friends shared good company and conversation, while also commenting on, praising, and enjoying the tunes from Yunho's Youth album. There were a good thirteen songs featured on the album, and while most of them were inspired by real life, you remembered the days and nights when Yunho would break out the white board under his bed to draw out a concept map of the storyline he'd created in his head for some songs. It was like a miniature Easter egg hunt for fans to piece together from album to album.
When the clock hit nearly midnight, you recognized the song that marked the end of the conventional album—track number thirteen, 22. It was a song that reflected and lamented on his early stages of adulthood, all the goods and bads, all the hopes and dreams he had left. It was something that tied the regular album with a satisfying bow, but you were also giddy to hear the secret fourteenth deluxe track.
But as his ethereal voice from 22 faded out, the same guitar chords from the first song of the album began to play.
Everyone at the table paused in confusion.
“Uhh, I thought you were revealing the hidden track tonight, Yunho?” Seonghwa asked from across the table.
Yunho tilted his body out of the booth to peer into the sound booth at the very back of the lounge, a furrow in his brow. “I thought I was, too,” he said as he stood up. “I’ll be back in a sec.”
Before anyone else could say anything, Yunho disappeared past the door to the sound booth. You frowned as Hongjoong excused himself to catch up with him, mumbling something about helping with any technical difficulties.
In retrospect, it wouldn't be the biggest deal if you didn't get to hear the song tonight. You would simply listen to it when the deluxe album dropped in about a week, but you wouldn't deny that you were a little disappointed. Everyone else at this table had already listened to it—why had Yunho not shared it with you yet? Did he think you would judge him or not like it? You didn't think you were ever so harsh a critic, but that would explain why he was so nervous all night.
Regardless, you remained positive.
When Yunho and Hongjoong returned to the table, the rest of you all looked on to them expectantly.
“Something wacky is going on with the system right now and won't play the file for the hidden track,” Hongjoong huffed. He passed Yunho a sidelong glance, and you saw how Yunho avoided his friend's eyes like the plague. “Sorry to disappoint, Yn.”
Everyone's attention whipped toward you, and you straightened like a deer caught in headlights. “Oh, uhm, it's no biggie,” you said. You glanced over at Yunho who, if anything, seemed guilty. Or maybe it was just something apologetic. “Really—I can wait for it to drop officially.”
You didn't like how the air seemed to shift during this exchange, as if all the other boys were sitting on the edges of their seats, faces morphed into mixed ranges of confusion and disbelief.
You cleared your throat. “Anyone want more drinks?”
As the night waned and the party came to a close, you found yourself being helped into another Uber car to head home. After the supposed tech glitch, the remainder of the party passed by without a hitch. At the very end, Yunho popped open a theatrical bottle of champagne for all his guests to close out the celebration.
The backseat door closed just as Yunho ducked in with you, his hand waving out the window to San, Wooyoung, and Jongho passing by along the curb.
The alcohol had gradually made its way to your brain, and there was a light buzzing at the base of your skull that made you feel all warm and fuzzy. You yawned, leaning your head against Yunho's shoulder.
He chuckled, one of his hands coming up to gently pat your head. “Tired?”
“Mhm,” you hummed as your eyelids fluttered closed. “You didn't have to lie, y'know.”
You felt his shoulder tense under your cheek. If only you could feel the rapid beating in his chest, then he'd be as good as done.
“I don't know what you're talking about,” he replied innocently, nimble fingers running over the chain links of his wristwatch.
Your eyes cracked open slowly. “Yunho.”
A beat passed, then he sighed. “Are you mad?” He asked quietly and his hand nearest to you found yours as he began to mindlessly inspect the chipped nail polish on your fingertips.
“No, silly. Why would I be mad?” When he didn't respond right away, you let out an exhale of your own. “I mean, I could tell you were nervous about me listening to the song all night. And if you weren't ready for me to listen to it yet, then I totally get that, and I'm okay with waiting. I just would rather you tell me that instead of make Hongjoong lie for you.”
He stopped playing with your fingers. “I'm sorry, for the record. Thank you for understanding.”
You hummed in reply.
The drive continued on with the accompaniment of a random radio station playing on low volume. You weren't going to fall asleep just yet with the alcohol still working its way through your system, but you kept your eyes closed nonetheless.
“I missed you, you know?” Were his first words to break the next silence.
A small smile wormed its way onto your face. “I missed you, too. I feel like we haven't seen each other in forever.”
He chuckled, the low sound rumbling through his chest and into your ear. “Texting can only take us so far. Isn't that crazy? We can't even survive a week without hanging out, but we're… we're about to be separated for so much longer timewise and distance-wise.”
You grumbled. “Don't remind me—wait. Has it really only been a week?” You peeked one eye open, a frown coming to your lips. “No way.”
Yunho smiled, shaking his head. “Believe it or not, stargirl. It's been only a week.”
“In-fucking-sane.”
“You're telling me.”
“How are we going to survive?” You pondered aloud, genuinely. If you couldn't fly out to see him within the first handful of tour stops, you and Yunho at the soonest wouldn't be able to see each other for three weeks. And if you couldn't escape your work duties and your PhD responsibilities, then it would be longer than that. “You're gonna have a closer relationship with your Valorant account than me.”
Yunho snorted. “I already have a closer relationship with my Valorant account than you.”
“Shucks.” You breathed out. “Guess I'll just text Hongjoong then. You know what he told me tonight when we were exchanging numbers? All eight of you nerds have a group chat and he gets ignored like a mom in a family chatroom.”
Your comment made a laugh tumble out of Yunho's mouth. “Did he make that analogy?”
“No, Seonghwa did when he overheard.”
A wheeze. “That tracks.” Yunho licked his lips as he turned his head slightly to glance down at you leaning on his shoulder. With his free hand, he warmed his palm over your head like he could keep you here forever. “So what's this about texting Joong?”
You shifted your position to get more comfortable and clung to his arm to press yourself closer. There was still a little ways to go before you reached your apartment. “I told him offhandedly that I wanna pick up a new hobby… something about crocheting or something, and apparently that guy is like… amazing at everything, so he's gonna help me out.”
“Ah.” The sound was quiet. “I'm glad you guys got along.”
You smiled to yourself. “Me too. He's really cool.”
“Not cooler than me though, right?”
You blindly reached over to pat his chest in warm reassurance. “Don't worry, big guy. I guess you're still the coolest guy I know.”
He clicked his tongue at you with a weak chiding, “Yah. You only guess? Don't tell Mingi that.”
“Oh, I wouldn't dream of it.”
The Uber eventually pulled up along the curb outside your apartment complex. You lifted your head up from Yunho's shoulder and woke yourself up with a good stretch of your limbs.
He helped you out of the car, handing you your purse when you finally got your bearings. “Are you sure I can't walk you up? You look like your knees are about to buckle,” he chuckled.
You shook your head. The cool evening air was helping your brain to sober up. “No, no. Don't worry about it—I’m not as drunk as that one year.”
“Dear heart, how could I forget,” he teased. “Mingi still has the recording of when you begged to be bridal carried.”
Your face warmed at his mention of that memory and you wrinkled your nose at him. “I was gonna say ‘I love you’ along with goodnight, but I suppose not.”
Yunho froze. “What?”
Maybe you really weren't sobering up, because you didn't catch his strange reaction. “Nevermind,” you said flippantly. “Love you, Yun. Good night. Get home safe!”
He seemed to unfreeze, his lungs filling with breath again. A soft smile melted onto his pretty lips as he looked on toward you with a warm fondness. “Love you, too. Good night, Yn.”
He remained where he was outside the car door as he watched you dig your keys out from your purse and open the complex door. When you had one foot inside, you stopped, and turned back to him with a big grin on your face. “Hey!”
“Hey?” He laughed.
“I'm proud of you.”
For the thousandth time tonight, you made him lose his breath, his hold on reality. He swallowed—he wanted to kiss you. “I love you. Get some rest, stargirl.”
You waved to him in reply and he waved back. Then you disappeared through the door and left him there, his heart full and beating fast, the longing in his chest weighing heavier than before.
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When you and Yunho were thirteen, you spent the longest period of time away from each other for the rest of your lives. It measured to about one summer break long when Yunho flew to South Korea to spend the entire vacation there and you could do nothing but chat with him via good, old fashioned e-mail.
Now that the two of you were older, even a couple days dragged on like an eternity. And because of your clashing and stacked schedules, a couple days almost always bled into a week.
A week since the release of Youth marked the inevitable release of its deluxe edition and the ever mysterious fourteenth track.
“Yn, wait, can you just help me finish this set of primers?”
You were this close to escaping the lab before one of your colleagues caught you. Taking a deep breath, you resolved to turn back and help them out. One less thing to worry about later, right? You could still listen to the track once you got home.
Except you couldn't, at least not right away. You saw the email on the bus ride home:
Hello TAs! One of your peers has unfortunately been involved in a motorbike accident early this evening. We have been informed that they will recover to full health, but because they are hospitalized, we will need to redistribute responsibilities regarding grades and as to who will cover their TA sections…
You skimmed down the email's contents, knowing you wouldn't be the one filling in as an actual TA. Because you were a first year graduate student in your first quarter, you opted to start off with grading work for now. But even if you didn't have to deal with a whole section of undergraduates, you could feel the blood drain from your face.
“You've gotta be shitting me,” you said, then slapped your hand over your mouth once you realized you'd said that aloud. You mouthed a sheepish “sorry” to a parent and her child nearby, then ducked your head to look at the contents once more.
There was no way they wanted—no, needed—all of those graded by tonight.
This was cruel and unusual punishment, but you knew you were going to do it anyway.
By the time you finished grading, shoveled dinner into your mouth, and took a therapeutically scalding hot shower, it was sometime past two in the morning. Thank fuck it was Saturday.
It was less than twelve hours later that you settled into the passenger seat of Yunho's Lexus sedan with a pair of shades covering your dehydrated, puffy eyes from the world and whatever paparazzi was stalking his car. Yunho glanced over at you with barely concealed amusement. “Well, good morning, princess.”
“You can't see it but I'm glaring at you,” you grunted as you strapped yourself in with the seatbelt. “I can't believe you wake up before noon now.”
“Unfortunately,” he chuckled, peeling his car away from the curb. After an unsatisfactory six hours of sleep, Yunho had woken you up with the obnoxiously loud sound of your phone ringing. You managed to negotiate for him to pick you up in two hours rather than half an hour—and now here you were. You never truly considered yourself a breakfast person and you would have happily slept all the way to lunch, but even through the exhaustion, you wanted to see him as much as he wanted to see you.
He would be gone by the end of the week, after all.
You leaned your head back against the headrest. “I used to have to lure you out of bed with the smell of bacon. Remember when you ate that entire plate of raw-ass bacon and pancake batter that Mingi made?”
Yunho let out a loud laugh that made you smile. He glanced over at you. “Bro,” he sighed, shaking his head, “you know I'll eat anything. Oh my gosh, I will never forget the horrified look on your face when you came out of the bathroom and found out what happened.”
“You looked like a kicked puppy when I told you that you shouldn't have eaten raw bacon,” you snorted. You'd felt so awful that Yunho was such a good eater who didn't complain; he didn't have any negative side effects afterward, thankfully, but you swore to never let Mingi in the kitchen or to let Mingi feed Yunho ever again, so long as you lived.
There was a café a few minutes drive from your apartment complex that the two of you liked to go to. It was a little hole in the wall, located on the second floor above a pet shelter, and the entrance could only be accessed through the stairs in the next-door alleyway.
Yunho adjusted the beanie over his bangs and you shifted your sunglasses up to the top of your head as you entered the establishment. There were a few people seated in the area to the right, but something you liked about this place was its hidden gem quality. (And the drinks and food they served, of course.)
“Hi, welcome in!” The barista behind the counter called before ducking behind the espresso machine. “Give me two seconds, and I'll be right with you.”
“No worries, take your time,” Yunho chirped back as he scoured the menu, eyes squinting and tongue darting out to wet his lips.
You had a general idea of what you wanted already, and you let Yunho know what it was before slipping off into the restroom.
By the time you emerged from the back hallway where the washrooms were, Yunho had finished ordering and was standing by one of the open two-seater tables by the far window with the soft autumn sunlight painting over his features. For a second, you stood at the opening of the hallway, just admiring him. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep making you envision the sunlight dancing around him as he sat down in one of the seats.
Heat rushed up your neck as your eyes met across the café. Gazes locked, you stood frozen, but a smile bloomed on your best friend's face like the coming of spring. It was the most beautiful thing you'd ever seen.
And then he made a face, cocking his head to the side like a puppy with a question. 'Why are you just standing there?’ He seemed to ask.
You shook yourself out of whatever strange daze you'd slipped into, then walked over to join him.
“You okay?” He asked as you took the seat across from him, a teasing lilt to his voice, yet there was still concern in the curve of his mouth.
You waved said concern away. “Yeah. I think I'm still waking up or something.”
“Ah,” he nodded in understanding. He frowned. “What time did you go to sleep last night?”
“Like… some time past two.” On cue, you let out a large yawn, lifting your sleeve up to cover your mouth. “It's okay. I'll just sleep early tonight or something. One of the other TAs got into an accident, so we just had to do some make-up work and I just happened to get home late as it was.”
You could already see the guilt manifest on his face for waking you up, and you were swift to add, “I'll be fine with food and coffee, so 's alright. What about you? How'd you sleep last night?”
“I slept decently,” he replied, leaning forward to rest his cheek against his fist. “I didn't end up dropping the deluxe album, so it was a little more restful than—”
Your brain took a second to catch up. The… the deluxe album… oh. Your eyes went from half-mast to wide open. “You—you didn't release the deluxe? Sorry, I was so busy yesterday that I didn't check my socials.”
“Don't worry about it,” he said with a sheepish smile. “But yeah, I told my manager that I still wasn't ready to release it to the public just yet. I don't know when I'll postpone it to, but it probably won't come out until while I'm on tour.”
Ah. There was that disappointment settling in the pit of your stomach again. This wasn't about you, but why did it seem like he was avoiding your eventual listening to this song? He was almost always sending you audio files without prompting, so what made this one different?
Nonetheless, it wasn't your song. You would respect Yunho's privacy if he wanted to keep this one to himself and his friends.
You unconsciously rubbed your arm. “Oh okay. Yeah, I mean—take your time, Yun. I'm glad you don't feel pressured to release it when you aren't ready.”
His expression softened to something tender that made your chest feel fuzzy. “You'll listen to it soon, I promise.”
The barista called out Yunho's order number, and your friend stood up to go retrieve it. You sighed as you fiddled with the sleeve of your shirt and peered over your shoulder as a pair of newcomers asked him for his autograph and a picture. You watched the pleasant smile spread on Yunho's face as he conversed with them as easy as breathing air, alongside the faint blush over his cheekbones.
No, you didn't know what had gotten into you this morning.
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“No, no. You have to loop it through this piece here—yeah, there you go.”
You were so concentrated on following Hongjoong's directions that you didn't even register the sound of Yunho's front door opening and closing. Hongjoong clicked his tongue and scooted closer so he could direct your hands and the crochet hook himself.
“Uhm… hey?”
Both yours and Hongjoong's heads whipped up at the sound of Yunho's confusion. He stood at the entrance to the living room area where, scattered all around you and Hongjoong, were clothes, toiletries, and other essentials laid out for Yunho to throw into his bags.
Tonight marked the evening before Yunho and the team were to set off on the Youth World Tour. Tomorrow, they would fly out sometime in the afternoon, which meant that you would have time to send them off before heading to work and class. However, because you hadn't seen Yunho since this past Saturday when he dragged your ass out of bed for breakfast, you invited yourself over to his apartment to oversee his packing. Hongjoong just so happened to be swinging by Yunho's apartment and you asked if he was up for an impromptu crocheting lesson.
Hongjoong arrived some time while Yunho ran out to the Chinese place down the block to grab dinner, and the two of you had been hunched over the ball of yarn and hook ever since.
“Oh, you're back!” You exclaimed. In your distracted state, Hongjoong took the opportunity to take the crochet piece from you and subtly fix the mistakes you made.
Yunho's brows creased, eyes darting from you to Hongjoong as he slowly placed the takeout bags on the semi-cleared coffee table. “Yeah… Joong, when did you get here?”
You leaned forward to help clear off the rest of the coffee table and to also assist in unpacking all of the takeout containers. Yunho shucked the baseball cap he was wearing off to the side, carding a hand through his dark locks.
“Like… seven minutes ago,” he replied cheekily. His mouth curled into something mischievous as he locked eyes with Yunho. “I can leave, though, if you wanted to be alone—”
“Hyung—”
“I'm messing with you,” he snickered as he handed you the yarn and hook. “I only came by to drop off the emergency backup files hard drive and to give Yn-ie a sneak peek of her crocheting lessons to come.”
(Yunho's eyes narrowed a millimeter. Yn-ie?)
You set the unfinished crochet square down on the couch to walk Hongjoong to the door. “Are we still on for tomorrow, by the way?”
“What's tomorrow?” Yunho twisted around where he was seated on the floor to watch you and Hongjoong make your way to the front door.
“You,” said Hongjoong with raised eyebrows at your best friend, “are going on a plane with everyone else. Because I'm not leaving until the day after tomorrow, Yn and I are bonding over lunch after we see you all off.”
You and Hongjoong finished up finalizing plans in the doorway, followed by amiable farewells. Yunho called out a “good night” to his friend as Hongjoong slipped out the door, and left you and him to the apartment by yourselves.
You claimed the spot on the floor next to him and accepted the pair of wooden chopsticks he extended to you. “I'm sorry if I wasn't supposed to invite him in. I probably should've asked,” you said sheepishly as you snapped the chopsticks apart.
“Oh, no, he's been over quite a few times, so it's all good,” he replied swiftly. “I just didn't expect you two to be so close.” He added a laugh at the end that sounded more nervous to him than it was supposed to.
“We've been texting back and forth, but I guess so. Nothing like the two of you,” you jested, lifting your eyebrows up and bumping your elbow against his.
Yunho grinned. “What's that supposed to mean?”
“You guys spend all that time together in the studio—WHA—NO! Keep those hands to yourself!” You shrieked, rolling out of the way to dodge his hands that threatened to tickle you into submission. Yunho had thrown his head back in a carefree laugh, a beautiful expression in itself, that had you reciprocating.
When you were sure he wasn't going to attack you (affectionately), you scooted back over to your original spot next to him. He smiled to himself at the sidelong glance you casted him, and he went and grabbed one carton of rice for himself and the other for you.
“Thank you for dinner, by the way,” you told him as you opened up your carton, his somehow already opened and spilling over with food.
You once again caught him with his mouth full, and Yunho swallowed the bite of food he had before replying. “Yeah, man. Of course.”
“I swear that I will definitely get the next meal we have—”
“Yn.” He touched the back of his hand against your arm to draw your attention to him. “You literally were the one to make sure I made it out of college alive, like, I can never thank you enough for how much you did for me then and continue to do for me now.”
You swallowed, suddenly blown back by the way he looked at you right now. “I did it because I care about you, Yun. It's not something I expect to be repaid for.”
“I know,” he said with a nod, lips pulled into a tender smile that made your stomach do flips. This was the look no one else got to see from him. Sure, he could fill stadiums of people who would see his big, bright grin that shone brighter than the sun, but… but this one, this smile, was yours. “That goes the same toward this meal, okay?”
Yunho notched his finger under your chin and tilted your head up slightly to meet his eyes. “Don't worry about it.”
You set your carton of rice and chopsticks on the table, he copied your movements, and you wrapped each other in your mutual embraces. The startling realization that you wouldn't see him for longer than a week from tomorrow onward rushed toward you like the coming of a tide to shore. Before you knew it, the water was up to your knees, and you—what were you going to do without him here?
“I miss you already,” you whispered.
You felt him squeeze you tighter, nose pressed against the side of your neck. “I won't be gone too long.” A promise.
“Thank god Seonghwa and Wooyoung can cook.” At the sound of his snort from above your head, you squawked out in your defense, “Who else is gonna make you bacon and pancakes in the morning when you’re dead tired?”
“Hey! I can fry bacon, I’ll have you know!”
You pulled away from him so he could see the look of pure disbelief on your face. “Okay, rockstar. I believe you.”
He scrunched his nose up at you. “That’s not very convincing.”
“I’m glad we’re on the same page.”
Yunho scoffed, reaching over to flick your nose. You let out a sound of indignation and rubbed your nose, a scowl on your face at Yunho’s very pleased expression. And even if you were currently conspiring on how to get back at him, you couldn’t help but resolve something right that second—you would do everything in your power to see his show in two weeks’ time—to see Yunho in two weeks’ time.
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The thing about cheap plane tickets was that the cheaper you bought them, the less “amenities” that it came with. The one you’d purchased specifically for two weeks in the future did not allow you a refund. This meant that if something were to arise, you would be a good several hundred dollars poorer, and your plans to surprise Yunho at his show would fall completely through the floor.
Good thing you weren’t about to let that happen, right? …Right?
“You’re sick.” Those were your roommate Trinity’s first words to you as you stumbled out of your bedroom and found her perched on one of the stools at the kitchen counter. She fixed you with an unimpressed look as she stirred around her morning coffee.
“I’m not—” Your own response was cut off by one very untimely cough into your elbow. You wrinkled your nose at the metallic taste at the back of your throat. Great. “—sick.”
“And I’m Oprah,” she deadpanned.
“You could be.” Did you really sound as much like a dying walrus as you thought you did? Holy shit.
She stood up from her stool, setting her coffee cup on the counter, then walked over to you to direct you back into your room. “I’m not permitting you exit from this apartment until you're better. Back to bed with you.”
“But—”
“No buts! If you wanna still be able to fly by the end of this week, then you have to get better, Yn.”
You really, unfortunately, could not argue with that. Nearly a week and a half had passed since Yunho started touring. Opening night had been a massive success, as you’d seen the broadcast and read the reviews on social media. In the concert photos and videos slowly being released online, there was no doubt in your mind that Yunho belonged onstage. He was radiant as a diamond in each depiction of him, and he sounded better and better each night.
Suffice to say, you were beyond proud and happy for him.
In order to make your surprise successful, you informed Yunho’s team of your plans so they could help you get into the concert once you arrived. Your part consisted mainly of finishing all of your work ahead of schedule so you weren’t swamped when you got back. It was nearing the end of the term, meaning there was lots to grade and study, but when you had a goal, you were determined.
The only downside was that, between the long days and nights of work, your body couldn’t fight against the swift rush of early winter air that swept through the city in the past week. Your working hours stretched out longer and longer until your body just… gave up. Or at least, it was giving up.
After calling in sick to your workplace, you crashed back into bed for what you hoped to be a restful nap. Maybe when you woke up, this would all just turn out to be a 24-hour fever.
(It was not a 24-hour fever.)
You didn't even know what time it was when you woke up groggy and your head pounding like there was an active construction site taking place in your skull. Your bedroom was dark, and the world outside your window was also dark. The sound of your phone ringing drilled into your cranium, and you groaned as you felt around your mess of blankets and sheets for wherever that damned thing was—
“Hello?” You croaked into the receiver when you finally grabbed ahold of your phone.
There was a pause on the other end, and you were about to ask who it was when they responded. “Oh my god. You're sick.”
Your heart leapt into your throat at the sound of your best friend's voice and you shoved your face into the pillow. “I'm not sick.”
“Yn, sweetheart, you literally have the sexy sick voice.”
“You think I'm sexy?” You asked in a drowsy, unwell daze. “But anyways, I'm not—” You lifted your face into your elbow in time to practically hack out your lungs. You groaned. “Okay, maybe I am sick.”
Could things get any worse?
You could hear the frown in his voice. “You sound like my worst nightmare.”
“Am I sexy or your worst nightmare? You need to pick an adjective.” You whimpered as you struggled to pull yourself up into a sitting position.
“At least I know it did nothing to that attitude of yours,” he laughed. He sobered for a moment when he heard you groan as the blood rushed to your head. “Hey, do you have meds with you? I can order some and have them there in half an hour.”
You waved him off, even though he wouldn't be able to see. “No, it's okay. I should have taken an ibuprofen before I crashed. I'm sure we've got extra Nyquil around here somewhere…”
You attempted to stand up, a swear falling from your mouth as the vertigo hit you and sent you tumbling back down onto the edge of the bed.
“Yn, I'm sending you medicine—and dinner. That one bistro near your apartment is still open, right? I'll let Trinity know that deliveries are on the—Yn?”
You lifted your head and broke out of your return to unconsciousness. “Hm? Sorry… I did not hear anything you just said.” You rubbed your hand down your face and scooped your phone up to make your way out of your room. You somehow made it to the door, and you leaned against the doorjamb as you pushed out into the dark hallway. “You don't have to send anything, Yun. Trinity's studying for her law school finals, so I don't wanna bother her. Plus…”
You opened up the medicine cabinet in the bathroom and bit back a sigh of disappointment. No cold medicine. There was pain medication, at least, so that should hopefully help you fall asleep again.
At your lack of words, Yunho asked, “No medicine?”
“No, I have some medicine,” you countered. “Just—not the right ones.” Before you could swallow any pills, you hacked out another lung into your elbow; you swore your coughs were sounding worse and worse.
“You know what? I'm flying home—”
You slammed the pill bottle on the bathroom counter. “Don't—what? Yunho, do not fly home. It's literally just a little—” You coughed, “—cold. You have another show in two days. If you show up on my doorstep, I'm not opening the door.”
From the silence on his end, you knew he wasn't in total agreement with you. Maybe the bottle slamming was a little much, but his statement had surprised you. It didn't make sense for him to drop everything for you when you were experiencing something so trivial as a cold.
Not unkindly, you said to him, “I appreciate the concern, but you have bigger things to worry about and care about.”
“You will always be the most important thing I care about.”
His admission was so sincere that your heart gave a violent palpitation in your chest. You struggled to swallow, and it wasn't just because your throat was sore. “And I feel the same way about you,” you murmured, “but I can take care of myself, okay? I'll be back to normal in no time.”
You heard a sigh from his end. “I know; you're right. I just… wish I was there with you right now.”
You could understand that—it was how you felt. But some things couldn't be helped, and Yunho needed to be where he was and you needed to be where you were. You could hold down the fort while he was gone taking over the world by storm.
You closed the bathroom door to give an extra barrier between your voice and where Trinity was studying in her room. After knocking back a couple painkillers, you seated yourself on the floor with your back against the bathtub and your knees pulled up to your chest. “You know what's kind of ironic?” You coughed into your elbow and wrestled down another one bubbling up in your throat. You shouldn't have been speaking so much, but you could deal with the repercussions later. “I think I freaked out when you said you were going to fly home, not just because that's insane, but also because I was going to surprise you by flying out to your show in a couple days.”
He sucked in a breath. “You were gonna come surprise me?”
“Yeah,” you muttered, swiping at your nose and tucking your chin to your knees. Then you had to go and screw it all up, and you couldn't even get your money back. You pretty much accepted that you weren't going to be better by the time the day rolled around, especially not for travel. “I'm sorry I couldn't come see you.”
“No, don't be sorry!” He cooed. “I'm—I’m really sorry you're sick and I'm sad you couldn't make it, but… but think of it this way, hm? As soon as you get better, I'll fly you out to whatever city I'm in and we can hang out and you can come to the concert. All you have to do is get better for me.”
You didn't know if your schedule would allow after this setback, but you were going to remain optimistic. With a small glimmer of hope peering through your chest, you replied, “Okay.”
“Okay,” he said, and you could hear the fond smile in his voice.
“By the way,” you began, and had to clear your throat from how congested it was getting. Maybe some hot tea would do you good. You clambered to your feet to get out of this bathroom and do just that. “Was there a reason you called originally or was it just to say hi?”
A beat of hesitation passed between your question and his answer. “Ah…” There was a wince in his voice, “I, uhm, called because I wanted to know if you'd seen something online, but obviously you haven't 'cause you were asleep, but…”
Seen something online? Your movements with your electric kettle paused. Had someone posted something about Yunho? “What is it, Yun?” Who's ass did you need to beat?
“Seonghwa hyung found out that someone leaked the hidden track online a few hours ago.”
You leaned your cheek against your palm, eyebrows knitting together. “Shit, dude. I'm so sorry,” you said with a frown. That meant some rando on the internet had hacked into someone's files and leaked the song.
A sharp exhale from Yunho's end. “Yeah, I dunno. We're working on getting it taken down right now, but in the event it can't be done soon enough, I think I'm just gonna release the deluxe version in a couple hours.”
It seemed by his response that it wasn't the hacking that was his primary concern. Leaked, unreleased songs happened to every major artist in the industry, and it had most definitely happened to Yunho before this. But this time… this time felt different. You knew how hesitant he was to release this, and having the track get released to the public on terms that weren't his? Well, that just wasn't fair.
“You don't,” you said softly, reaching for a mug in the top cabinet to plop your tea bag into, “have to release it officially right now. You can still wait until you're comfortable.”
You heard sounds of shuffling on his end, followed by the sound of a door opening. You thought you heard Yeosang's voice as he murmured something to Yunho. The exchange was swift, but it reminded you that your time with your best friend here was limited.
“Do you need to go?” You asked, trying to cover up your hope that he didn't have to with nonchalance.
He hummed. “It's okay, I have a few minutes left. They want me to 'okay’ a couple things out on set, but that can wait. Uhm… as for what you said about releasing it—I,” he sighed, “I think this was the push I needed to finally drop it, y'know? I think either way I was going to be scared for—for people to hear it—for you to hear it. But uhm… yeah. That's all I wanted to say. I think it'll probably be released whenever you wake up.”
You poured the hot water of your tea bag, setting the kettle down gently. Letting the steam rise up to help clear your congestion, you could finally think a little clearer now. “I'm sorry this didn't happen on your terms.”
“I appreciate that. I hope you like the song—I… I really hope you like the song.”
A smile tugged at the corners of your lips. “I'm going to like the song, rockstar. You have nothing to worry about, I promise.”
He let out a small laugh and the sound of his happiness, however big or small, made your chest feel heavy. “I’ve missed you so much,” he rasped out. “So much.”
You pressed your forehead to your fist, willing the prickling feeling of tears at bay. “I wish I was there—I’ve wished I was there with you the moment you left. But I'm so, so proud of you. I know I've said this before, but you belong on that stage, Yunho. I'll be there… I'm always there in spirit.”
“You can't say that and expect me not to fly my ass home right now.”
You sputtered out a laugh, which was probably a bad idea, because it led to an utter disaster of a coughing fit. When you finally managed to get a reign on things, you picked up your mug of tea and took a couple ginger sips. It was still piping hot, but whatever scalding temperature it was at somehow soothed your throat and your head.
You set the cup down. “Again, I'll be there in no time, I promise.”
“You swear on your life?”
You sighed, but you pressed your lips into a smile. “I swear on my life.”
Yunho's departure from this call was imminent, and so you made further promises to get plenty of rest and to take care of yourself. You only did so when he promised to do the same for himself. Just after you both hung up, you received a text message from him: Stay up for five more minutes!! The delivery's almost there.
You huffed out a rough-sounding laugh, and bit your tongue around a smile. Of course he had still ordered you stuff. You shook your head to settle on one of the kitchen stools to nurse your tea and wait for the delivery to get here.
When the driver was safely out of bounds of your door, you poked your head out into the hallway to grab the paper bags seated on your doorstep. You had only expected medicine and maybe dinner, but not only were there cold medicines, orange juice, and hot soup from the bistro down the street, but there was a bouquet of flowers there, too.
Butterflies fluttered in your stomach as you pulled everything into the safety of your apartment. Damn Jeong Yunho and his gestures. It didn't mean anything—they were just Get Well Soon flowers, but why did you kind of wish they were more than that?
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The Youth album's fourteenth track entitled your space hit the charts at number two. By the time you woke up, still sick as hell, the track had been officially released for about eight hours. You rolled over in bed to guzzle down half a bottle of water and cold medicine, then grabbed your phone.
It seemed that social media blew up while you were asleep. The deluxe drop was trending under a couple different tags, and based on initial skims, you were happy to report that most had everything good to say about it.
Though, some of the commentary made you pause. He has to be seeing someone, said one user. Look at these lyrics. These could only be produced by a man in love.
You had to swipe out of the app at that point. Instead, you went over to yours, Yunho's, and Mingi's group chat together where Mingi and Yunho had waged a meme war while you were asleep after Mingi wished you a “Get Better Soon” message. You sent back your own meme in response and opened your music streaming app to find track fourteen.
The boys would probably all be asleep by now, so they wouldn't respond any time soon.
You found your space exactly where you thought it would be, at the very bottom of the deluxe album. You sat yourself up against your headboard, plugged your earbuds in, then hit play.
If only you knew how much it would rock your world.
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Hongjoong was never wrong about his hunches. It had been about a week and a half since you came down with an awful cold and couldn't make it to your intended surprise show, and slightly less than that since the deluxe album dropped. Even before the tour started, life was a whirlwind, but now that the tour was only ramping up further from this point, it had been nothing short of a total rush.
Different cities every week, at least two nights a city—all of it took a toll on both the staff and artist involved. Hongjoong's hunch, however, regarded the artist in particular as he watched said artist keep his smile up to say goodnight to the remainder of the stadium workers who lingered for cleanup. Yesterday was their last show date in this city, and today, Yunho and his team had come by to help load everything up for transport to their next destination. Tomorrow, they would fly out and be in the next city to begin preparing for the next round.
But as Yunho began making his way toward the exit where Hongjoong was waiting for him, it was impossible to miss the immediate exhaustion that flooded his features. He carded a hand through his hair as he checked his phone, then pocketed it in the back pocket of his pants.
“Hey,” Yunho nodded to Hongjoong as he met him at the exit and they both walked out into the chilly evening together. There was already a car waiting at the curb to take them back to their hotel—there was still so much that needed to be done before they left for the airport tomorrow.
“Hey,” he said back. “Everything okay?”
Yunho glanced over at him. “Huh? Oh, yeah. I'm fine; just tired. I think it's a good thing I started packing before we came here earlier,” he mused. For him to pack early? A miracle.
Hongjoong bobbed his head in understanding. “Yeah, I get that, but that's not really—you know you can be honest with me, right? I know this has all been… a lot.” And Hongjoong would understand; he had been in the public eye for so long now, and all of that could be so incredibly draining. From catering to fans and journalists and sponsors, it could be difficult finding himself amongst all that mess.
Plus, Yunho had the added bit of being away from home for a very long time. From what Hongjoong understood, Yunho only used to tour relatively close to home, and when it was farther, it was during his school breaks. He also knew that you were an integral part of Yunho's sanity, and that even before he reached this level of fame, you were his rock, his anchor, his ground control.
Being away from you for so long was beginning to show. When Hongjoong brought it up offhandedly to Mingi, Mingi was swift to agree.
“I—” Yunho began as he slipped into the passenger seat and Hongjoong into the back of the car. He murmured a soft greeting to the driver before strapping himself in with a seatbelt. “—it definitely has been hard,” he admitted with a sigh. “I don't know, Joong. You know that rush you get while onstage, but it just comes crashing down a couple hours later? Like the adrenaline leaves you all at once and all you crave for is home?”
Hongjoong pursed his lips, watching Yunho lean the side of his head against the window as he watched the world pass by. “Yeah, I do,” he said quietly. “The moments between all the rush and excitement, you're no longer distracted from how much it all is.”
A nod. “Yeah.”
“You miss her?” It was less of a question and more so a statement. Hongjoong's hunches were never incorrect. It was both a blessing and a curse.
Yunho's quiet was answer enough.
Hongjoong played around with the back of his phone case. He knew you had listened to the song—he’d asked Yunho and you'd texted Hongjoong, too. Yunho reported that you gushed about the song and affirmed him in all his choices and lyricism as always, but he was certain that you didn't get it. But when you had run to Hongjoong questioning your own feelings and if Yunho had been scared to tell you if he was in love with someone, Hongjoong could confidently say that you did get it, just not one hundred percent.
There was still miscommunication in the message, but he knew that was only something that the two of you could sort out.
“Have you guys talked since last week?”
“Yeah, we have. She's been…” He pushed a breath out of his mouth, “... She's been working her ass off trying to make up for the amount of time she was sick. I don't even know how she isn't getting sick again. I mean—all the shit she has to weather through—I wish I could help.”
And he couldn't, not like how he wanted to, not from so far away. Maybe that was what was eating him up inside the most, besides the fact he believed his feelings to be unrequited.
The car pulled up to the back entrance of the hotel Yunho and his team were staying at for the time being. The two of them thanked the driver on their way out, and they were swiftly greeted by employees coming out of the back for their breaks.
When they reached the warmth of their hotel floor's hallway, Yunho said to Hongjoong, “I miss her so much.” He shoved his hands into the pockets of his Youth World Tour hoodie, eyes lined in silver. “I worry about her so much, too. I'm sure she worries just as much about me and I know that she's more than capable about taking care of herself—’cause god, she was the one who kept me afloat all these years, and I—”
I love her.
He slapped his key card against the reader and shoved into his hotel room with Hongjoong trailing after with a sympathetic frown on his face.
“It just feels wrong sometimes when I can't be with her. Is that crazy?”
Hongjoong settled a warm hand on Yunho's shoulder as the latter sat down on the edge of his bed. “It's not crazy,” he said. He'd felt like that about a person, once upon a time. After everything Hongjoong had gone through with his last relationship, one might think he didn't believe in love, but he was still clawing for it. He wanted something that he could see manifesting between you and Yunho. He wanted to help you reach that.
He sighed and sat down next to him. “It's completely valid to feel this way, y'know? She's been a huge part of your life and your passions, and for you to see all this without her seems incomplete.”
Yunho nodded. “Yeah.”
“You can go home whenever you want, you realize that?” Hongjoong asked. “We have time built into each week to give you rest days, man. We can make that work.” It might be a little tiring for so much travel, but one trip back wouldn't hurt, especially when it could help his mental state more than simply powering through.
“I know,” he replied. “I don't… I just feel like I want her to see that I can do this, that she didn't put her trust and energy into someone who would fall so fast—”
“Do you seriously believe she would think about you that way?”
Yunho's expression shuddered, and he let out a shaky breath as he shook his head.
Hongjoong arched his brow. “Exactly. She would never fault you for needing a break. Being human is not a sign of weakness, Yunho. She's your best friend—I think she has more forgiveness and compassion for you than that.”
Yunho swallowed. Of course what Hongjoong said was right. You wouldn't look at him any different if he needed a break; it was just a thing about being kinder to himself. But sometimes it was hard to put that into perspective, and perhaps he just needed someone to do that for him.
With no good choice made without a decent night of sleep, Hongjoong bid Yunho goodnight.
As soon as Hongjoong slipped out of his friend's room, he sighed and mentally calculated what time it would be where you were. You should have been awake.
And awake, you definitely were.
You would be lying if you said you hadn't been listening to the song your space on repeat for the past week and a half. Even as you sat in one of the campus dining halls doing work and eating your crappy sandwich for lunch, your headphones were spilling with your best friend's gorgeous croons.
You questioned everything at the same time. You'd figured out two days after you first heard it that you were in love with your best friend.
The lyrics had resonated with you, and you had come to the startling conclusion that you felt the song's meaning toward Yunho.
All you could do since was freak the fuck out and tell Yunho that the song was incredible. You didn't know who the song was for or about, but you knew it was important to him because of how scared he was to release it. Had he been scared to tell you he was in love with someone? Why?
Sometimes you found yourself tearing apart the lyrics like a rabid trash panda.
I couldn't ever leave you behind They couldn't ever take me away Baby, if I could pick a heaven on Earth It would be anywhere in your space.
You broke away from your work and sandwich to the sound of a text notification. Suddenly remembering how loud your vibration ringer was, you silenced it, then opened up Hongjoong's message: I know you're probably moping and eating a shitty sandwich—what. You glanced down at said shitty sandwich that sat in its equally sad plastic container. How did he know…? —and he's not doing well either. He's miserable, dude.
Everything slowed for you, and it was no longer about your so-called epiphany. You felt your entire body and mood drop at the news. You'd seen social media posts commenting on Yunho's stage presence and brightness never fading, but there were always the one or two who noted something along the lines of him seeming too tired or that perhaps he didn't have enough stamina for this.
The latter comments made your blood pressure spike, but there was, unfortunately, some truth to it. You just didn't think it was this bad.
You pressed the backs of your knuckles against your eyes. You hadn't been doing the best, clearly, and you knew that it was largely because you missed him. Being away from someone you considered home for so long meant that you were bound to get homesick.
You didn't know what to do. There was so much work to be done, and you had just caught up. On top of that, you were short a few hundred dollars from the last time you tried to fly out.
Another message buzzed in from Hongjoong: I think you guys really need to talk.
The organ in your chest rattled around in its cage; it longed to be with its partner. You were starting to understand that now.
The song playing in your ear was slowly petering out, and all you could hear was his voice.
And I've kinda been wanting to ask if we can Skip the 'why’ and get to the 'our’ Because baby, I love your space But I love ours more.
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Yunho had not flown home that week. Some emergencies had sprung up as soon as they landed in their new city, and all bets were off to be able to go home. All that he could do was buckle down and get comfortable. Even so, he knew how to make the best out of a situation.
As he stood at the very center of the main stage, he held a hand up to shield his eyes from the bright spotlights shining down on him now.
“Is that better?” Hongjoong's voice echoed throughout the near-empty stadium.
From one of the balconies, Jongho cupped his hands up around his mouth to scream at the top of his lungs, “LOOKS GOOD, HYUNG!”
“Jongho,” Yunho chuckled into his microphone, “did someone not get you a headset, bro?”
A beat passed, and then, “NO.”
Mildly amused laughter cropped up around the stadium in reaction to the youngest's troubles. It was little moments like these where Yunho could forget for one second just how tiring all of this amounted to become. His smile was genuine, and his tongue darted out to trace his teeth—
“Jeong Yunho, put your damn tongue away.”
Yunho's eyes went as wide as saucers, his expression morphing into something like childlike surprise as he immediately retracted his tongue into his mouth. But in the split second it took his brain to process the words that had been said, he also recognized the voice who'd said them. From the big screen, any one of the staff members or you could see the way his face stretched into the widest grin possible, his eyes lighting up like spotlights.
He lifted the mic in his hand up to his lips as he tilted his eyes up to the sound and lighting box far up in the stands. From where he was onstage, he could just make out the shape of you in the box next to Hongjoong—the sneaky bastard. “Ln Yn, get your ass down here right now,” he said, hardly able to contain the excitement in his voice.
You didn't need to be told twice.
You raced down the stadium steps from the box, your legs carrying you as fast as humanly possible without falling. Yunho leapt off the stage and left his microphone behind to meet you in the middle.
Somewhere between the pit and mezzanine, you flew into his arms and he caught you, spinning you around. The glee on both of your faces was enough to make everyone stop and appreciate the tangible love before them. Tears pricked at the corners of your eyes and you pursed your lips to subdue them. You squeezed him as tight as you possibly could; his arms held you firmly around your waist, head tucked into the joint between your neck and shoulder.
“You're here,” he croaked with tears in his voice now. You heard him sniffle, and only held him tighter. He felt the added strength and let out a sob. “I missed you so much.”
Oh, for fuck's sake—you started bawling like a baby. “I—” you sucked in a breath, “—I heard—so I booked a flight—”
This only caused his body to tremble harder. “Oh god… Yn… I…”
You sniffled and brushed your hand over the back of his head in an attempt to get both of you to calm down. “Hey, don't worry about it, okay? It doesn't matter; you know I'd drop everything for you.” When his only response was to press his wet eyes against the heat of your neck, you blinked away your tears. “Plus, I missed you, too, rockstar.”
Yunho let out a watery laugh, gently setting you down onto solid ground. You both looked like a hot mess and a half: snot dripping out of your noses, eyes red and drowned in salty tears. The adrenaline rush from the surprise had trickled out of your system, but your heartbeat continued to rattle around in your chest with reckless abandon. His messy, damp hair; the wobbly shine in his dark brown irises; the way he smiled at you with that something on his face… he was everything to you.
“Glad to know the feeling's mutual,” he said, nudging you with his elbow, then pawing at his eyes to wipe the tears away.
“Good to see you, Yn!” San piped up from the stage with his microphone. He had picked up Yunho's microphone from where he'd abandoned it to come meet you.
You laughed, lifting a hand up in a wave. “Hey, San! Hi everyone!”
Chimes of greetings from all the other boys and staff members cropped up from all around the arena.
Yunho brushed a hand through his hair and wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Did all you fuckers know about this?”
Mingi was perched on the ledge of the stage. His grin seemed to be the widest after watching your reunion. He tugged the microphone attached to his earpiece closer to his mouth. “Don't tell us you're not grateful now.”
“Nah, I'm just surprised Wooyoung was able to keep his mouth shut.”
Wooyoung didn't need a microphone to let you all know of his offense. You could hear his squawk of disapproval all the way from where you stood—crazy how acoustics worked.
Yunho heard your laugh from beside him, and he glanced over at you to catch the fond look on your face. He hadn't stopped smiling for the past five minutes, and it didn't matter how much his cheeks hurt. You were here; that was all that mattered.
“This place is—” you marveled as the two of you began walking down the stairs together toward the stage. The backs of your hands brushed against one another, breaths away from touching, from lacing, from being together. “—huge. It's so much more—” You felt your lip wobble again, “I don't even know why I'm getting emotional. It's all you dreamed of as a kid, wasn't it?”
The tears pricked at the edges of his eyes again, and the two of you looked back at each other with equally wet eyes and bright smiles. “Yeah,” he nodded, swiping at his eyes.
“You deserve it.”
“All thanks to you,” he said with a sniffle, hugging you to him again. You were solid and real beneath his fingertips—he was so happy you were here. This was where you belonged; none of this felt right without you.
When you finally reached the bottom of the pit, Yunho had to run back up to the stage, and you went through the aisles until you found your perfect seat. It wasn't long before Mingi bounded up the steps to come join you. He brought you in for a long awaited hug of his own.
“What's good, Yn?” He asked with a soft chuckle as he pulled away and settled in the seat to your left.
Just ahead, Yunho appeared onstage with his microphone in hand, and the two of you lifted your hands in sync to wave to your best friend.
You adjusted your bag in your lap, and clasped a hand on Mingi's shoulder. “This is surreal. Does it feel surreal?”
Mingi's lips pulled into a smile as nostalgia made his vision cloudy. “It does, every single time. I'm glad you're finally here—we’re all very happy that you're here now.”
You bumped your head against his shoulder and let it rest there for a moment, and his hand came up to gently pat your head to tell you he understood. You didn't need to say anything.
For the next hour and a half, you and Mingi got to watch Yunho and everyone else run through the last of the day's lighting checks. Periodically, someone else from Yunho's personal team would come and sit with the two of you, then leave quickly when they had something else on their to-do list.
At last, when the session wrapped up and everyone was sent to go home for an early night, you rushed down to meet with Yunho again.
He waited for you to be at his side before leading you down toward backstage. “There's a couple things I need to grab in my dressing room before we can head back to the hotel.” A thought suddenly interrupted his thoughts and his eyes widened. “Do you have accommodations? Please tell me you do.”
“Don't worry—I promise I'm not sleeping on the streets,” you teased. You'd figured all of that out pretty last minute with Hongjoong and Mingi's help.
Yunho nodded, a smile coming to his face. “Okay, good. I was gonna offer my room and I could sleep on the pullout couch.”
The thought of sleeping in the same room as him made your skin warm, and if you hadn't realized your feelings for him before, you would be confused as to why you were so flustered at the thought now. It wouldn't be the first time you had a sleepover. But this would be… different. Oh lord.
The backstage hallways were scarce and dimly lit in order to save energy, but it was enough to guide you and Yunho's way to the star dressing room. You swallowed as you reached the door—the facade plastered with a pretty, gold star with his name on it—and followed him inside.
“Hey, Yun?” You asked him as you lingered by the door and he rushed around to grab his things. The room was decently spacious, and definitely larger than all the other ones from his past tours.
“Mhm?”
“Could we… talk about something?”
He glanced back over his shoulder as he threw things into his bag. “Yeah, ‘course.”
You toed at the polished ground, fingers twisting and wringing in front of you. “It’s about the song. The, uhm, the your space one.”
His movements paused. He looked up and connected gazes with you through the vanity mirror in front of him. Yunho cleared his throat and ducked his head to zip up his bag. “What—what about it?” He asked, shouldering his bag and meeting you back at the door.
He seemed unable to look you in the eyes directly now as he closed the door behind the both of you as you stepped out into the empty hallway.
“I just,” you stammered. Blood rushed up to your face and you could hear your heartbeat thundering in your ears. “I needed to know—I didn’t need to know—it’s your life and your song, and you have every right to have feelings for someone without me knowing. And I think I’m asking this for selfish reasons, but… are you seeing someone?”
The question caught him off guard, his eyes blowing wide open. “Wh—no. No, I am not seeing anyone. Why do you ask?”
“The song—I know I shouldn’t be indulging in what people on the internet say, much less in the opinions of those who don’t even know you, but I couldn’t help but agree with them when they say the lyrics, the—the feeling of the song—you’re in love, and I—” Your breath caught in your throat as you choked on the words lodged there: And I am in love with you.
Yunho pushed an exhale out of his mouth and stepped toward you. So much shone in his eyes right then, and it didn’t matter how much light there was in this damn hallway, his eyes would always glitter like twin diamonds. “I am in love with someone. Yn, I’m in love with you,” he said. “I thought that the song would make it obvious, which is why I was so scared for you to hear it, but I realize now that this was just something I should have said outright.”
Your heart fluttered in your chest and it wasn’t from the nerves anymore. God, your knees felt like buckling from the force of the tenderness in his eyes alone. “You’re—you’re in love with me?”
“I am,” he nodded. He slowly reached for your hands and clasped them within his own. “I’ve been in love with you since that day you ran out of Science Olympiad practice to come to my audition; I’ve been in love with you from the moment you yelled at me for not being ambidextrous and I had beef jerky in my mouth—”
“I did not yell at you!”
He broke out into a cheeky, yet fond grin, his hand coming up to cup the side of your face with his hand. “I’ve been in love with you for so long that I can’t imagine what life was like before I was in love with you—and yes, you did yell, but you can yell at me as much as you like, and I would still be head-over-heels for you.”
Your lip curled in on itself at all of his words, at everything he was revealing to you now. You wished you had known—oh, god, you wish you had known. You didn’t know if things would have been different, but for some reason, you had a feeling that all paths might have led here nonetheless.
You squeezed his hand between your own now. “You’re everything to me, Jeong Yunho,” you rasped out, unable to put strength behind your voice for fear of all of the emotion about to spill out. “And I’m so stupid for taking so long to figure it all out, but I’m in love with you, too, and I’d be damned if I let another day pass without you knowing that.”
Something washed over him in that moment, and he laughed, leaning over to cup the back of your neck and rest his forehead against your own. It was ridiculous, the fact that both of you were giggling and smiling at such a precipice of emotion, but it felt right.
You could feel the warmth of his breath against your lips as he murmured, “Fuck, I wanna kiss you so bad.”
“Then come kiss me, rockstar,” you said, looping your arms around his neck. You drew him down to your mouth and felt his body mold against your own. Every crevice and curve slotted so perfectly with one another, and the heavy longing in your chest slowly eased.
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“You guys have been incredible for me tonight—” Yunho beamed as he walked toward the front, center stage and looped the electric guitar strap over his head to the sound of the roaring crowd, “—so I've got a little surprise for you.”
One of the staff members had set out a mic stand and bottle water for him, and he approached both items to fit the microphone into place. Tonight was the Friday night concert being held in this city, and the energy was dialed to one thousand in all the best ways.
He held onto the microphone with one hand. “This song is dedicated to—written for—my best friend in the world, the love of my life, my stargirl. I'm sure you know it—you crazies debuted it at number two on the charts—this is your space.”
His smile tugged up wider at the reaction he received. If anyone in the crowd didn't know the song, they were about to fall in love.
Yunho laughed, shaking his head, as he began checking to make sure his guitar was tuned with practiced, nimble fingers. “Oh, by the way—” he pointed up at the accessory he wore, the crocheted headband holding his hair up and out of his face, with a row of stars across its band, “—she made this for me. Isn't it cute?”
The stadium echoed in choruses of “aw” and cheers.
He could only duck his head with a smile, eyes twinkling with fondness and tenderness at the thought of you. You were in the crowd, but you could be up here with him in spirit. “Yeah, that was me, too.”
After you and Yunho left the stadium yesterday, hands intertwined and a new page in your relationship turned, you’d gone back to his hotel to share a restful evening in one another’s presences. You revealed later that night that you spent the four or five days you were bedridden practicing your crocheting skills until you were able to make him a headband. A row of three stars studded the length of it—stars for your rockstar.
Yunho struck his fingers down the strings of his guitar with a gentle rocking motion from his opposite hand to let the sound reverberate around the stadium. The crowd cried in love as his soulful, beautiful voice filled their ears with love of his own. And as his fans filed out of the stadium for the night and headed home, Yunho could finally return to his home. Because you were here now… no matter how far, no matter the distance, the two of you would always find a way to be in the other's space.
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a/n: pls remember to reblog, comment, and send asks if you enjoyed!
atz m.list
permanent taglist: @flwoie @vatterie @seomisaho @hqrana @ja4hyvn @outrologist @rikizm @tinkerbell460 @meosjinn @hyunjaespresent-deobi @stayarmytinyzenmoa-l @floatingpluto @gyulfriend @jaehunnyy @shakalakaboomboo @soonyoungblr @justanotherkpopstanlol @kangfication @pxppxrminty @fluorescentloves @haechansbbg @jaerisdiction @super-btstrash-posts @jundundun @http-gyu @mvvnsseul @mars101 @kflixnet
594 notes · View notes
alxtiny · 9 days
Note
can you do which ateez habit you would have picked up from being around them for too long?
I struggled with this more than I should have I’m sorry 😭😭😭😭 Happy reading!!!
Habits you pickup from Ateez
Synopsis: little habits you pick up from ateez
Pairing: ateez members x gn!reader, idol au
Genre: fluff
Word count: 2.4k
Warnings: none:)
masterlist
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• Hongjoong
Falling asleep in random places
You never thought you'd pick up such a peculiar habit from Hongjoong but here you were, dozing off on the couch in his studio. It had become somewhat of a routine lately. Hongjoong often found himself working late into the night, composing music and writing lyrics, and you couldn't bear to leave him alone. So, you stayed up with him, keeping him company and offering moral support.
Tonight was no different. The studio was dimly lit, save for the soft glow of the computer screen where Hongjoong was tirelessly tinkering away. You sat beside him, occasionally offering words of encouragement or fetching him a snack to keep his energy up. But as the hours passed, fatigue started to weigh heavily on your eyelids.
"You okay Y/n?" a familiar voice chimed in, bringing you back from the brink of slumber.
You blinked a few times, trying to shake off the drowsiness. "Huh? Who? What?" you mumbled, rubbing your eyes.
Seonghwa chuckled softly and gestured towards you. "You fell asleep in a chair, I think you’re spending too much time with Hongjoong. You should get some real rest before you start falling asleep in random places, like him, too."
Glancing over at Hongjoong, you realized he was completely absorbed in his work, oblivious to the conversation happening around him. You laughed sheepishly, realizing Seonghwa was right. Lately, you had indeed found yourself dozing off in various places – the couch, the kitchen table, even leaning against the wall.
"It's just... I can't leave him alone when he's working so hard," you explained softly, a small smile playing on your lips.
Seonghwa's expression softened as he understood. "I know, and I'm sure Hongjoong appreciates it too. But you need to take care of yourself as well, okay? "
You nodded, grateful for Seonghwa's concern. As you settled back into the couch, you made a mental note to try and get more sleep, even if it meant leaving Hongjoong to his work occasionally. But for now, you allowed yourself to succumb to the comforting embrace of sleep, knowing that Hongjoong was just a few feet away.
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• Seonghwa
Acting motherly towards the members
Seonghwa watched with a bemused smile as you flitted around the dorm, straightening pillows, picking up stray socks, and tidying up the kitchen. It was a sight he'd grown accustomed to – you, inadvertently taking on the role of the dorm mom, just like he did. It wasn't something you consciously did, but rather a habit you'd picked up from spending so much time around him and the other guys.
You had a thing for neatness and sometimes acted much like a mom in your friend group, but lately, you found yourself slipping into Seonghwa's shoes more often than not. It was something he found endearing and amusing, seeing you scold the other members for leaving their belongings strewn about or for forgetting to do their chores.
"Y/N, what are you doing?" Seonghwa asked, leaning against the doorframe of the kitchen.
You turned to him, a blushi tinting your cheeks, wondering just how long he had been watching you. "Oh, just tidying up a bit. It was a mess in here."
Seonghwa chuckled softly, crossing his arms over his chest. "You don’t need to do all that, you know"
You laughed, shaking your head. "I can't help it. You guys are like family to me, and I just want to take care of you."
The other members wandered into the kitchen, groaning as they saw you fussing over the cleanliness of the space.
"Come on, Y/N, we already have one Seonghwa," Yunho teased, flashing you a playful grin. "We don't need you turning into another one."
You rolled your eyes, but couldn't hide the smile tugging at your lips. "I'm just trying to help keep things organized around here. Someone has to do it."
Seonghwa wrapped an arm around your shoulders, pulling you close. "We appreciate it, really. Just don't forget to take care of yourself too, okay?"
You nodded, leaning into his side. "Of course. But someone has to keep you guys in line."
The others laughed, knowing deep down that they were lucky to have both you and Seonghwa looking out for them – even if it meant enduring occasional scoldings for their messy habits.
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• Yunho
Picking at or biting your lips
Yunho had always been the type to immerse himself completely in whatever task he was working on, often biting or touching his lips in concentration. You, on the other hand, had never noticed this about yourself until Yunho pointed it out one day.
You were sitting together at the studio, both lost in your respective work. You were so engrossed in what you were doing that you didn't even realize your hand had wandered up to your lips, fingers lightly touching and occasionally biting at them in a habit you had unknowingly picked up from Yunho.
"Y/N," Yunho's voice broke through your concentration, causing you to look up, startled. "Don’t do that," he said, nodding towards your lips.
Confused, you furrowed your brows. "Hmm? What do you mean?"
Yunho sighed, his expression turning slightly serious. "You keep biting your lips. You might hurt them if you're not careful."
You blinked, suddenly becoming aware of what you were doing. "Oh," you muttered, feeling a flush of embarrassment creep up your neck. "I didn't even realize I was doing that."
Yunho's lips twitched with amusement, but he quickly composed himself. "It's a bad habit. You should try to stop."
You couldn't help but feel a bit defensive. "Well, you do it too," you scoffed and pointed out.
Yunho's cheeks flushed slightly, and he looked away. "I... I do?"
You nodded, a small smile tugging at your lips. "Yeah. Maybe we've just been spending too much time together," you teased.
Yunho's embarrassment was palpable now, and he cleared his throat awkwardly. "Maybe," he muttered, unable to meet your gaze.
But despite the awkwardness, there was a warmth in your chest knowing that even your unconscious habits were intertwined with his. It was just another reminder of how close the two of you had become, and you couldn't help but feel grateful for it.
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• Yeosang
Clapping while laughing
You and Yeosang had spent such a long time together and over the course of it, you became attuned to each other's habits, quirks, and gestures without even realising it. One particular habit of Yeosang's that seemed to have rubbed off on you was the way he would clap his hands when he found something particularly amusing.
The way your hands would subconsciously come together and follow the rhythm of your laughter felt natural and neither of you actually noticed how a habit, once Yeosang’s, was now shared by you.
However, that was until one lazy afternoon when Yeosang excitedly showed you his phone, "Hey, check this out," he said with a grin, pushing it towards your face.
Curious, you glanced at the screen, finding yourself staring at a Twitter thread created by an ATINY. The thread was a compilation of gifs and videos, side by side, showing you and Yeosang laughing together. What caught your attention, however, was the caption accompanying the thread: "Am I the only one who noticed that Y/N and Yeosang have the same adorable habit of clapping while laughing? #YeoY/N."
"Oh my god they’re adorable."
"They look like cute little seals when they're laughing together, it's like they're synchronised."
You couldn't help but smile and giggle as you scrolled through the thread, amused by how certain things never went unnoticed by their fans, even if you yourselves were oblivious.
Yeosang glanced over at you, his expression softening. "I guess we really do spend too much time together, huh?"
You chuckled, leaning closer to him. "Maybe. But I wouldn't have it any other way."
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• San
Covering your mouth while laughing
It was just one of those habits you picked up without even realising it – covering your face while laughing. It was something you'd seen San do countless times, his hand rising instinctively to his mouth as his laughter bubbled up. Maybe it was the contagiousness of his joy, or perhaps it was the familiarity that made you do it, but whatever the reason, you found yourself unconsciously mimicking his actions more and more as time went on.
You didn't think much of it, not until one fateful day when you and San were doing a live stream together. The comments were flooding in, a flurry of emojis and supportive messages from fans all over the world. Amidst the sea of text, one comment stood out:
"OMG, look how they laugh the same! 😍 SanYn are the cutest! 💕"
Curious, you glanced at the screen, only to see San's eyes widen in realisation. He turned to you, a playful grin spreading across his face. "Looks like we've been caught," he teased, nudging you lightly.
You felt your cheeks flush with embarrassment, but there was also a warmth spreading through you, a sense of fondness at the thought of sharing such a small, intimate detail with San. "Guess we spend too much time together," you joked back, unable to suppress a smile.
But as the live stream continued, you couldn't help but notice how often you and San found yourselves laughing, your hands rising simultaneously to cover your mouths. It was a small gesture, but it spoke volumes about the bond you shared, the way you seemed to sync up without even trying.
After the stream ended, you leaned in to press a gentle kiss to San’s cheek, you couldn't help but giggle at how much these little quirks affected you, maybe making life more comfortable along the way.
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• Mingi
Making the 🥺 face
To the people outside, Mingi seemed to be very intimidating, with his deep voice and built 6ft stature but inside the comfort of his he couldn't be more different. He knew he was cute and he knew how to use it against people. One quick look sent your way with his puppy eyes and pouty lips and you would melt, at some point this habit of his rubbed off on you.
The members weren’t safe from it either, like when Seonghwa had just finished making a delicious batch of ramen for himself. The aroma wafted through the room, teasing your senses and making your stomach growl loudly. You and Mingi couldn't help but stare at the steaming bowl with longing eyes.
"Seonghwa hyung, that smells amazing," Mingi exclaimed, his eyes widening with hunger.
You nodded enthusiastically, finding yourself unintentionally mirroring Mingi's expression, your lips slightly pouting like the 🥺 emoji.
Seonghwa chuckled at your antics, shaking his head. "Sorry guys, this is just for me. I only made enough for one."
"But hyung, we're starving!" Mingi whined, his voice tinged with desperation.
You glanced at Seonghwa, your eyes pleading as you continued to unknowingly imitate Mingi's puppy-dog expression.
Seonghwa sighed, feeling the pressure of your combined adorable stares. "Oh no, I have to deal with two Mingis now, don't I?"
You and Mingi exchanged a glance before bursting into giggles, realising your unintentional synchronisation. Seonghwa couldn't help but laugh along with you.
"Fine, fine," Seonghwa relented, dividing the ramen between the three of you. "But next time, make your own!"
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• Wooyoung
Smacking people while laughing
You couldn't help but laugh at the way Wooyoung told a recount of the recent Wanteez episode the boys shot, adding his own commentary in between. He always had a way of making you laugh wholeheartedly, even when you fought he would be the one to apologise first and crack a joke to make you smile. However, what you didn't realise was that you had picked up one of his habits along the way.
In the midst of your laughter, your hand instinctively swung out and smacked San's thigh, eliciting a surprised yelp from him. It wasn't until he looked at you with a mix of amusement and slight irritation that you realised what you had done.
"Oops, sorry, San!" you apologised, cheeks flushing with embarrassment as you tried to suppress your laughter.
San rubbed his thigh, shooting you a mock glare. "I already have to take abuse from Wooyoung, and now you're doing it too?"
You couldn't help but giggle at his playful complaint, but Wooyoung nudged you with a grin. "Looks like my habits are rubbing off on you, huh?"
You chuckled, realising how similar you two acted these days. "I guess so. Sorry, San, I’ll try not to do that but I can’t make any promises." You winked at him.
San shook his head and scoffed at your mocking, a smile breaking through his faux irritation. "Ahh so much I have to go through,"
You and Wooyoung giggled at his words, knowing how much he loved you both the same, with the occasional physical abuse of course.
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• Jongho
Scrunching your nose while smiling/laughing
As you sat on the couch, mindlessly scrolling through your phone, you stumbled upon a video compilation titled "JongYn Couple Moments" ,obviously your curiosity got the better of you and you clicked on it, not fully knowing what to expect. What unfolded on the screen was definitely not what you were expecting, it sent a sudden blush creeping up your cheeks.
The video was a compilation of moments featuring you and Jongho, through the fans’ eyes, complete with dramatic commentary about how cute you two were together. Especially about the way your noses scrunched and crinkles formed around your eyes as you both laughed, with your faces making the same endearing expression.
You couldn't help but be amused as you watched, realising that you had subconsciously copied Jongho's habit of scrunching his nose when he smiled.
Suddenly, you felt a presence beside you. Glancing over, you found Jongho peering over your shoulder, his eyes fixated on the screen. As he watched the video, a wide grin spread across his face, small giggles leaving his lips.
"Wow, we really do look alike sometimes," Jongho remarked, amusement dancing in his eyes.
You nodded, still giggling at the sight. "I never realized I picked up on your habit."
"It's adorable," Jongho said, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your cheek. "I guess I've rubbed off on you, huh?"
You chuckled, leaning into his touch. "Looks like it. But hey, I don't mind sharing a few habits with you."
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© alxtiny . Do not steal, plagiarise, translate, repost, or use my works on any platform in any way.
Send an ask or a message to be added to taglist
DISCLAIMER: THIS IS PURE FICTION AND NOT RELATED TO THE MEMBERS OF ATEEZ IN REAL LIFE PLEASE DO NOT TAKE IT SERIOUSLY
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556 notes · View notes
bombuni · 4 days
Note
hi! could you write/do a texts of ot8 ateez individually reacting to you not being in your shared apartment after an argument? (angst to fluff)
thank you 🩷
- bf! ateez and seeing ur not home
warnings: somewhat angsty, cursing
bom note: i feel like seonghwa’s and yunho’s are uncharacteristically sad compared to the others.. but u asked for angst! again, sorry for the lateness but pleaaaseee enjoy bby <333
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reqs r open :>
530 notes · View notes
hongism · 10 months
Text
BOUNCY. - j. yunho, c. jongho (m)
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➼ genre; smut ➼ pairing; yunho x fem!reader x jongho ➼ au; outlaw/mechanics!2ho, dystopian futurism, lore accurate ateez ➼ warnings; explicit smut, some terribly unfunny mechanic jokes i’m really sorry ➼ rating; m/18+ ➼ wc; 4.9k
‘Two for the price of one!’ the sign outside the shop had read, and well, you’ve never been one to pass up on a good deal.
part of the outlaw miniseries.
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➼ smut warnings; piv, unprotected sex, semi-public sex, fingering, manual stimulation, pussy slapping, spanking, hair pulling, choking, sloppy seconds, creampie, pet names: sugar, sweets, dear & baby, dirty talk, breeding kink, name calling: bitch & slut, voyeurism & exhibitionism, dom/sub dynamics, dom yunho, sub reader, slight bimbofication, spit play, size kink, praise kink
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You pull up to Outlaw Customs, the repair shop that’s become something of a second home for your car, two minutes before closing. If it were anywhere else — and anyone else running the place — you would never dream of being such a terrible customer, but since you know both men inside well enough to have a working relationship outside of this little business they run, you aren’t worried about causing any issues. And, well, if you do, Yunho will surely let you know in his own snarky way.
The garage door is still wide open, with Yunho on full display at the mouth of it as he works on the vehicle that’s always parked front and center. As you cross the threshold into the garage, your eyes catch on a sign propped up outside that you hadn’t seen the last time you were here. Two for the price of one on any repairs! A scoff slips out of you as you eye it, and that noise is what pulls Yunho’s focus from his work to you.
“You didn’t tell me you were running a deal,” you whine, drawing a laugh from the man before you.
“We still gotta make money somehow, sugar!” He nods his head towards the other side of the car, where another familiar face sits on the run-down couch you gave to them when they first opened up shop down the street from your apartment complex. It was something of a trade and an icebreaker: you needed a cracked headlight patched up, and they needed some furniture to fill out the garage and make it more homey for any customers who would come and go. Jongho gets up when you come over though, simply to move from the couch to the desk chair right beside it, and you take the spot where he was just sat.
“What’ll it be this time, sweets?” Jongho arches a brow at you in question and leans back in the chair. He exudes the same natural attractive confidence that he always has, and it shines through in the way he’s sitting with his legs splayed out and how one hand rests on his upper thigh while the other closes into a loose fist against the surface of the desk. He’s changed up his hair since you were last here too, now accentuated with white highlights that frame his head nicely. Your staring doesn’t go unnoticed, however, and he clears his throat gently when you fail to respond after several seconds.
“Oh, um, I’m in desperate need of a new tire. Back left. I think I hit a nail on the road or something, she’s been causing me trouble for weeks now.”
“And you didn’t come in sooner?”
You draw your lips into a firm ‘o’. “I started having issues two days after you demanded to do my oil change! Which I could have done myself really, but now — I can’t see what’s causing the issue, and no matter how many times I pump the damn thing, it still has shit air pressure. Besides, if you wanted to see me sooner, you don’t have to wait around for me to have another car issue to do so.”
Jongho shifts to find something on the desk. The tips of his ears are stained red, and that color bleeds down to his neck. “Yunho is the one who demanded to do the oil change though,” he mumbles, pulling out a clipboard with a blank sheet of paper attached to it. “I’ll go take a look and do a quick inspection to see if anything stands out.”
“Keys are on the dash!” you call after him before he slips out and leaves you somewhat alone with Yunho. Said man is laughing to himself as discreetly as he can manage but says nothing in favor of continuing his fiddling at the car. “Were you really the one to demand that oil change?”
“Technically no. But I did say that if he wanted an excuse to pull you over here then he could offer to do it for you.”
“Despite knowing I always do it myself?” you inquire as you push up from the couch. Your hands come to rest on your hips, chin tilting to match the attitude in your stance, and Yunho’s tongue pokes between his lips. His eyes move over your body in a quick series of glances before he knocks the round of his wrench against the headlight in front of him as though it’s a hammer.
“Um—” he fights to clear his throat but once he starts blushing, it’s impossible to miss against his pale skin. You step closer to where he’s crouched and squat down next to him once you deem yourself close enough — that being within touching distance, that is, where your shoulder can brush against his any time he tries to move even a hair.
“What are you working on?”
Again Yunho’s gaze finds you; this time, he lets it trail over your face first before going any lower, and you grant him a little smile for the bit of unnecessary chivalry.
“You’re too pretty to dirty your hands on me, sugar.”
“You say that every time,” you argue. You never get tired of admiring his side profile, but right now it comes with the added bonus that it watching his throat bob as he swallows hard around nothing but saliva and air.
“You don’t wanna make sure Jongho’s not changing your oil without permission again?” The roll of your eyes is far from subtle by any means, and the dramatization of the gesture brings a snort of laughter out of the man next to you.
“There are other inspections you can do, right? Since I’m a regular here and all.”
“Are you really in need of new tires, dear? From where I’m sitting, it seems like we aren’t the only ones who try to find excuses ‘round these parts.”
Leaning away, you put a hand over your chest and scoff. “The audacity of this man! Jongho, did you hear that?” He’s moving back into the garage as you call out to him, slapping the clipboard against the outside of his thigh. You only get a laugh out of him which seems to you like he agrees with Yunho. He lowers the garage door once safely out of the way and moves back to his seat at the desk. “See, he didn’t say he didn’t find anything.”
“He also didn’t say he did find something, sugar.”
“And, did he?” you prompt, eyes narrowing on Jongho’s back. Even though he can’t see you, he gives you the answer you want to hear with a quiet hum of affirmation, and you flick your chin back to Yunho to send him a smug little grin. “Besides, is there any harm in wanting a good deal?”
“That depends.” Yunho’s voice drawls a little, and he presses the heels of his hands against his thighs to help propel him into a standing position. The wrench in his hand gets tossed back to the cart nearby, bringing an echoing clatter to fill the garage with noise as your eyes lock. “Two for the price of one is a big deal after all.”
“And?” You stand slowly in contrast to how eager Yunho was to stand upright, but he watches your every move with rapt attention. In this game, it’s hard to tell which one of you is stalking the other — both playing the part of a predator so well that it’s indistinguishable. In your humble opinion, Yunho’s resolve is cracking much faster than yours.
“And it comes with lots of nice add-ons but they can be a lot to handle.”
“I never pass up on a good deal though,” you murmur through a pout, deigning to look down to the floor and back up to meet Yunho’s gaze through fluttering lashes. “I like handing big loads too.”
“Oh my god.” Jongho’s voice and the following groan cut through the building tension. “Quit making gross innuendos and just fuck! Making me sit here and agonize through that shit, disgusting.” Your face draws into something close to a scowl, one that matches his expression when you turn to look at him. In a move of childish vengeance, you stick your tongue out at him.
“Let us have our fun!”
“Yeah, yeah, have your fun and fuck.”
“Not joining?” Yunho asks, hand running over the curve of your hip already.
“I’ll sit back and watch you get your fill first then have seconds later. You always feel best after he’s thoroughly used you, sweets.” Your expression is somewhere between bewilderment and a smile, eyes following him as he moves back to the couch and throws himself down to the cushions facing you and Yunho. “What? He leaves you good and loose for me.”
“Jongho.” Your tone is breaching the edge of chastisement, but the words you plan to continue with are knocked out of you in a soft oof as Yunho turns you towards the car and suddenly bends you over the hood without warning.
“He’s right, isn’t he? I do open you up quite nicely.” You brace your hands against the hood, pushing up just enough to send a look back at Yunho over your shoulder. He’s already moved back some, however, and redirected his attention to slipping his fingers between the band of your pants and the skin underneath. “May I, sugar?”
“Go on then,” comes your whispered response as you settle more comfortably against the hood.
“You look pretty splayed out against our gem, baby.” Your view of Jongho is entirely skewed like this, but you watch him as he speaks. Though still fully clothed, you get quite the eyeful of his crotch with the way he’s sitting in that same damned position that makes you want to crawl between his legs and suck him dry.
“Right where she belongs.” Yunho’s fingers are hot against your sex, cupping you through your underwear now that your pants are down to your ankles. He snaps the flat of his hand to the same spot, and the action draws a shiver out of you along with a breathy whine. “Are you up for subbing tonight, y/n?”
“Yes sir.”
“So good and I barely had to lift a finger,” Yunho coos down at you. Once again his fingers trail over the line of your lips and push fabric against your cunt, not enough to give you any sort of true stimulation but it makes your clit throb with want. “Still remember our safeword?”
“Bluebird.”
“There’s my good girl.” Yunho slaps his palm against your mound harder to accentuate his words. You let out a moan that catches you off-guard, but Yunho doesn’t allow you time to adjust to the new sensations. “Count for me, sugar.”
“How many do you think she deserves tonight?” From your perspective, you can see Jongho’s hand move in slow circles against the front of his pants.
“Hm, fifteen to start? She was mouthing off quite a lot with me earlier.” A chilling rush of adrenaline pushes through your body, a whine hanging at your lips and threatening to interrupt their conversation, but you bite it back by sinking your teeth into your lower lip. Jongho catches your slight blunder before you have the chance to hide it.
“Oh? I think she wants to say something, Yun.”
“What is it, sugar? You can count that high still, right? After all my cock isn’t in you yet. Your little head should be perfectly intact still.” Yunho slides a hand down your back and finds a resting place at your tailbone. He takes the fabric of your shirt into his palm before bunching it into his fist and yanking your body along the hood of the car. “Not a dumb cockslut yet, baby, come on and answer the question.”
“I-I can, yeah, I can count that high, sir.”
“Good girl. You sound nice and desperate already. Maybe you shouldn’t wait so long to come see us anymore, hm?”
“I won’t,” you whisper. Yunho’s hand comes down on your ass, slapping against the bare skin exposed by your panties, and the sting comes immediately. “I’ll come sooner next time.” Yunho clicks his tongue though. Your gaze is locked onto Jongho, however, and focused on following his movements as he pulls his pants down his thighs and lets his thick cock spring out fully erect and leaking at the tip already. Yunho tightens his grip on you. The pressure on your body increases tenfold, making it hard to breathe under the weight atop you. You feel hot breath cascading over your ear as Yunho inserts himself into your personal space.
“Don’t tell me you’ve already forgotten how to fuckin’ count, sugar,” he hisses into the shell of your ear. His tone is so wildly different than the one he uses in casual conversation — biting and scathing to the point of muddling your thoughts with desire. Nothing quite compares to sex with an angry Yunho, though you rarely can rile him up to that point and even now you don’t have him like that, just the barebones of annoyance that tease something more.
“N-No! One, one, I’m sorry sir.”
“If he’s so distracting, I can send you over to him with no prep, dear.”
“No, it’s okay, I’m — I’m focused, I promise. Please continue?” His response comes in the form of two more slaps over the same spot as the first one, sharp and pointed to make the skin beneath him heat up further. “Three…”
“Now that I’ve got your attention, make sure I keep it, sweetheart.”
There’s no real need for that reminder in your mind because once he starts building a steady rhythm and delivering the spanks to your ass with mere seconds between each one, you have no choice but to focus on him. Jongho is still before you, a sight unfolding gloriously as he strokes at his length with lazy little jerks and no intention of bringing himself much pleasure beyond that. Even Yunho goes quiet in his ministrations behind you, leaving the air to be filled with the sounds of his hand on your skin and whatever broken number you choke out after each one. You want to twist and writhe under him, to alleviate some of the burn that’s so present on your backside, but each time you try to so much as shift an inch, Yunho delivers an extra slap to your cunt. Well-placed and effective too — so close to your clit that it makes your knees buckle and you fall back into the position Yunho wants you in to carry out his task. The first ounce of reprieve comes at eleven, right when you’ve settled to push through the pleasurable punishment to the end.
“You know, sugar, you’re taking this so well that I’m wondering if we should increase the number. You aren’t nearly red enough yet, and we picked an odd number. I can’t show equal love to both sides like that.”
“Twenty?” Jongho chimes in, smile twisting as you shake your head. “Thirty?”
“Twenty is fine, I—” you inhale sharply at the sensation of Yunho running his hand along your skin. His touch is cold now, a welcome balm to the heat that emanates from the spot he’s just been hitting so ruthlessly. Your voice is so shaky that you have to swallow to contain the tremble before continuing. “It’s b-been a bit since we did this, I’m not u-used to it.”
Yunho remains quiet as he rubs his thumb over your warm skin in soothing circles for several more seconds. “One more, baby. Then you’ll be done for tonight.” He’s merciful but not entirely gracious because the last sharp slap he delivers to you feels ten times worse than all the others before, and you roll your head to push it into the hood as you cry out at the impact. He catches you as your knees buckle under you, preventing you from sliding straight down to the floor, and as you’re scrambling to regain your footing, he hooks two fingers under your underwear band. When he yanks at the elastic, it snaps against your body hard enough to make you hiss, and it burns a bit when they slide over your sensitive skin.
“Didn’t she do well, Yun?”
You crack an eye open to look over at the man on the couch and make direct eye contact with Jongho to find his gaze far softer than it was minutes ago.
“Of course she did. I expect nothing less from our pretty lady, dear. And—” Yunho pushes two fingers between your folds and dips right into your hole, bypassing all the arousal that’s begun to leak out of you “—she’s sopping wet to boot. Perfect.” The praise makes your body sing, and Yunho rewards your easy obedience by easing his fingers in and out of you with little resistance thanks to that wetness he mentioned. “You still on the pill?”
“Y-Yeah, as always. Haven’t missed a day.”
“Then I can cum in you?”
“Yes… yes sir.”
Yunho groans, and he moves his hand up from the small of your back to feel at the back of your head. He takes a handful of hair into his hold and grips tight enough to pull your head up from the car hood, but it’s not too terrible that you feel any sort of dramatic pain from the act.
“Gonna breed you fuckin’ full of cum then,” he growls, leaning into your space and knocking his forehead against your temple. “Maybe so well that that damn pill won’t work? If I fuck it into you hard enough then your body won’t have a choice but to take my seed.” A loud moan tumbles from your lips at his words. The hand you have propping your weight up wobbles, and just before your elbow locks, Yunho releases you and grabs for your hips with both hands. You’re close to complaining about the sudden departure of his fingers when he nudges the tip of his cock against your folds, sliding along the wetness in a crude form of lubrication.
“Fuck me, won’t you?” you plead quietly. You hope that if nothing else, the look on your face will convince him to get on with things, but it must be a combination of everything — the heady arousal in the air, your tone and words, even the sight of Jongho jacking off to the two of you only a few feet away. Yunho sinks deep into your cunt then; he buries the full length of his cock deep inside you, stretching you open further until it feels like you can feel him in your stomach. Your body trembles and drops forward as you press your free hand to your abdomen like it’ll help you feel him better. “God, you’re so fucking big, Yun.”
“All the better to breed you with,” he says before planting a hand between your shoulder blades and urging you all the way down once more. Jongho is squeezing the base of his cock with his other hand now, likely to keep himself from cumming too early, and Yunho is notorious for two things: his short refractory period and how long he can go without orgasm no matter what kind of stimulation he’s under.
The initial drag of his cock inside you feels like heaven, and when he thrusts back against your thighs, he does so with such force that your insides churn.
“Is she tight?”
“Insanely,” Yunho responds through gritted teeth. You try to lift your head to look back at his face, eager to see how broken his expression is right now, but he stops you in your tracks. Again, fingers threaded through your hair and locking in close to your scalp to give him the best grip that won’t hurt you too terribly much. He yanks you hard with the next thrust, and it brings your head up at an angle that stretches you hard enough to make your muscles burn with the effort of accommodating to it. “Barely been two weeks and you’re this tight again, sugar, your pussy is fuckin’ insane.”
You would laugh at the absurdity of his comment if you could, but in your current state, the only noise that can escape you are choppy moans. They’re the kind that sounds like they could come straight from an amateur porno, and despite the garage being closed, it doesn’t offer that much privacy. Anyone who walks by will suddenly become privy to what sounds like a home movie being filmed behind the metal door.
“Didn’t expect her to be this tight, fuck, I might cum early.”
You can’t warn Yunho of the same for yourself: between his thrusts, the full weight of his balls slap against your pussy from the sheer force behind how hard he’s fucking you, and the steady rhythm is just enough to stimulate your clit even without head-on contact. He knows your body well, however, and how to play you like a fucking fiddle, so when your walls start pulsing around the thickness of his cock, he shifts the angle and drives his tip so deep into you that you see stars behind your eyelids.
“Fuck, sweets,” Jongho exhales under his breath. Your vision is blurry when you open your eyes, but it snaps back to black a moment later when the orgasm hits you all of a sudden.
“Fuck, fuck, f-fuck!”
“That’s it, sugar,” Yunho coos from behind you, and his hand relaxes to run down to the back of your neck. He presses the pads of his fingers into the flesh there, poking and prodding at the muscles that have suddenly gone tense in the tsunami of sensations sweeping over you, but his thrusts don’t let up even as your walls squeeze hard around his length. Yunho fucks you hard and fast through the brunt of your orgasm. When your body finally relaxes and the waves die down to let you swim in the aftermath of it, he’s still driving his dick along your walls and knocking against your more sensitive spots. “Should I breed you now, dear? Fuck you nice and full of cum then send you to sit on Jongho’s cock?”
Your mouth hangs open enough to let saliva out of it and onto the car, yet it smears across your face when you lose the will to steady yourself against Yunho’s pace.
“Pl-please, sir.”
Yunho lays himself over you and spreads his hands to sit on either side of your head. His hips still against your backside. The fuzz in your brain nearly drowns out the feeling of cum pumping into you, without a doubt filling you to the brim. He’s still in the throes of recovery when you nudge Yunho off and out of you. You would stay longer with him inside, to feel that warmth and fullness for some time longer, but your body moves on its own agenda with a pulsing desire lingering in your gut. Despite the weakness in your muscles, you walk over to the couch where Jongho waits patiently and quietly. His gaze is heavy on you when you drop your hands to his shoulders.
“Baby…”
“Don’t stop her now, babe,” Yunho interjects. You don’t spare him a glance over your shoulder or anything like it — the movements of your body are methodical and calculated, a firm straddle over his hips and spread legs before you reach down to put your hand next to his against the length of his cock. Together, you guide him into your used cunt, pushing him in alongside the cum threatening to drip out of your body. A sigh of relief leaves your lips once he’s securely inside you.
“Feel good?” you whisper close to his face. Jongho’s cheeks are flushed, his pupils blown own so wide that you can barely see the color of his irises, and his lips glisten with spit. You can’t help yourself, you decide. He has the same thought in his mind because he’s the one to kiss you rather than the other way around, lips finding each other in a fit of passion that makes your chest burn.
“I want more,” he mutters into your mouth.
“Greedy.” You lift yourself up from his lap some, enough to let his cock nearly pull all the way out of you, then sink back down with a spine-curling pleasure that makes you throw your head back and moan to the ceiling. Yunho’s form enters your line of sight, and his hand finds the base of your throat. He stands behind you, chin tilted to his chest so that he can stare directly down at you. He’s handsome beyond belief even at this awfully skewed and awkward angle.
“Open,” he commands while tapping along the column of your throat. Your lips part completely to allow him access to whatever it is he wants from you.
Jongho’s firm and strong hands squeeze at your waist at the same moment. He takes the control from your hands, and you hand it over without complaint to let him work your cunt along his length as he sees fit and to chase his pleasure in full. Yunho hooks his thumb on the back of your teeth. It effectively holds you open and steady for the moment he decides to spit down into your mouth. The warmth on your tongue makes you wince, but then Yunho is withdrawing his thumb and pushing up against your chin.
“Close and swallow,” he says in what’s likely to be his last act of dominance for the night. Your eyes remain firmly set on his face as you do so — slow yet deliberate so that he can see your obedience in its full glory. Your reward is the sweetest gift. He lays a kiss to your forehead and taps your cheek gently. “Good girl.”
You right yourself enough to look down at Jongho, sending your focus to the lover beneath you. He lets you take his face between your hands without saying a word, but the second you lean in for a kiss, he bites out his thoughts.
“You take dick like a bitch in heat, sweets.”
“Y-You’re the one—” your voice sounds about as wrecked as you feel “—fucking me dumb.” Jongho slides his hands along the lines of your body until he reaches your ass, where the skin is still sensitive and burning from Yunho’s earlier punishment. He palms the flesh harshly enough to make you cry out. “Want you inside too.”
“One wasn’t enough? How much cum do you need?”
“She’s a proper cumslut, really Jongho. You know this.” It’s unfair that Yunho sounds totally recovered and unbothered by the rough sex you just shared; meanwhile, you’re thoroughly wrecked and still going through the motions, working towards another impending orgasm on Jongho’s cock.
“Close?” he asks with a lilting tease hanging off his tone. You push yourself against him as best you can, close enough to knock your forehead into his.
“I bet you’ll cum first, big boy. Your needy dick is begging to breed me.”
Jongho’s nostrils flare at the accusation, but it’s an accurate one with the way his haphazard thrusts are becoming more and more staggered. Nothing inspires Jongho quite like a small competition though, even if it encourages him to play dirty and reach around to your front. He plunges a hand down alongside where his cock meets your body. Your bubbling complaints about his dirty tactics fall short at the mouth of your next orgasm, and he all but steals the air from your lungs with a few little twists of his fingers on your clit. He cums with you immediately after — but after nonetheless, as you’re certain he’ll note later on. Your body sags atop his even as he drives his length into you a few more times for good measure and to milk himself for all he’s worth, adding another load to what Yunho’s already left in you.
Said man makes another appearance too, with bottles of water in hand as he lowers himself to the couch cushions right beside you and Jongho. You take one of the presented bottles with a quiet murmur of thanks, easing up from your slumped position to take several greedy sips in an effort to soothe your poor throat.
“By the way,” Jongho tilts his head in Yunho’s direction. A moment passes that’s full of silent anticipation, and it’s only when Yunho’s brows start to furrow that Jongho finishes his thought. “Her tires are fine.”
The incredulous look you get from Yunho makes the ruse well worth it, and the small flare of anger that crosses his eyes briefly only serves to make you want to tease him further.
────────────
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beenbaanbuun · 19 days
Text
nudes w/ yunho
words - an amount
genre - smut
warnings - nudes, dom!yunho, degredation, finger sucking, masturbation
——————————————————————————
A smirk grew on your face as you read over the text you’d just received from your boyfriend.
‘Can you stop sending me nudes?’
You sat there in your lace underwear set, a wet puddle forming between your thighs as you thought about all the things he’d do to you once he was home. He was very big on punishments, much to your enjoyment. Sometimes, you went out of your way to annoy him, just so you could spend the night under him as he played with your body as if it was his own personal toy.
‘Why?’ You shot back, fingers slowly making their way down to your core. Technically you weren’t supposed to play with yourself without Yunho’s permission, but what he didn't know wouldn’t hurt him. And if he did know? Well, it's not like the consequences would be anything you wouldn’t be more than happy to deal with.
‘I’m at work, Sweetheart.’ Despite his kind words, you knew that he was seething. You could see him when you shut your eyes. Jaw clenched and eyebrow raised as he breathed heavily through flared nostrils. Just thinking about his anger made another wave of desire surge through you. As you trailed your fingers around the edge of your panties, you couldn’t help but notice another gush of slick coming from your twitching hole. God, you couldn't wait for Yunho to get home.
‘I just wanted to show you my new panties.’
Your fingers made their way beneath the soft material and your breath hitched as your fingers caught on your clit. A breathy moan made its way up your throat as you toyed with the little nub for a moment or two, gently rubbing circles before pinching it lightly. You imagined it was Yunho, but your hand felt completely different to his. It was smaller for a start, and you could never play with yourself in the same way he did. He could make you squirm in a way you didnt even think was possible.
If making you cum was an art, your boyfriend had mastered it. You, on the other hand, were still learning, and bringing yourself to the edge was much harder than he made it seem. Even on those nights that he simply refused to touch you, inspecting you carefully from across the room with a smug smirk, it was so much easier for you to cum. At least then there was a firm voice instructing you where to move your fingers, whether to add more or less pressure, and exactly when to do so. Now, you felt lost. Without the presence of Yunho, there was no hope for you.
The initial pleasure soon dissipated and in its place came disappointment. You were just aimlessly touching your clit now, a frown present on your face as you pleaded with whoever was up there that Yunho would come home from work early. You were certain that all you needed to cum was a firm hand and a deep voice to push you to your limits.
Yet even with your lack of ability to push yourself to the edge, it wasn't until your phone chimed that you actually removed your fingers from your panties. You brought them up to your face, carefully studying the way they shimmered with your slick. You spread your middle and your index fingers, watching as your arousal stretched between them like a spider's web on a dewy summer’s morning. It was pretty, in some sort of weird, erotic way, and you couldn’t help but admire it. Not for long though, a thought suddenly striking you and pulling you from your trance; Yunho would make you lick them clean.
That’s all it took for you to guide them to your awaiting mouth. You pushed them to the back of your throat, almost gagging on them before you closed your lips around them. It didn't taste particularly exciting - you were all too familiar with the taste of yourself by now- but it reminded you of your boyfriend nonetheless. Of all the times he’d choked you with his long fingers after pulling them from your creamy hole. So with a smile on your face, you circled your tongue around your fingers, sucking all of your slick off of them.
As you did so, you lifted your phone up to your face, and read the latest message from Yunho.
‘You don’t know what you’ve got yourself into, Sweetheart.’ You had to grin because yes, you did. In fact, it was the knowledge of what he may do to you that led you to orchestrate this whole situation. You wanted Yunho to dominate you, and you wanted it bad. The lack of power as he controlled your mind, body and soul tempted you like nothing else. The way he can so easily seize control of you, reducing you down to nothing but his puppet was something you desired to no end. It was as peaceful as it was exciting, hushing your mind until there was nothing left but him.
So yes, you knew exactly what you got yourself into.
‘Hurry back before I cause any more trouble.’ It took you a while to type it out with only your non-dominant hand, but Yunho waited for your reply anyway. The moment it sent, you spotted the three little dots that let you know he was typing. It felt good to know that you had him wrapped around your little finger, just like he had you.
‘Already on my way.’
The words popped up onto your screen and you grinned, knowing that he’d soon be there to take care of you. You turned your phone face down on the bed and closed your eyes, simply letting yourself relax into the buzz of excitement that flowed through your body.
———
It took Yunho a little over 30 minutes to get home, by which time, you'd fallen asleep. It was no secret that over the years you spent with your boyfriend, you'd developed a little bit of an oral fixation, specifically when it came to his hands. Having his fingers pressed to your tongue always seemed to put you even deeper into a submissive headspace; despite your fingers not comparing to the length, girth or warmth of his own, they still helped you relax deep enough for you to fall into a quiet slumber.
“Jesus, Sweetheart,” were the words that woke you. Deep and smooth as always, coming from the man you loved most in the world. He sounded like chocolate, making you all warm and fuzzy on the inside. “After all that, you’ve passed out on me. Couldn’t even wait a few minutes for me to come home, hm?”
You mumbled something. Nothing of any particular meaning, but it made your boyfriend coo anyway. He always found you cute when you first woke up.
“If you’d behaved earlier, I might have let you sleep,” He said, and through your sleepy haze, you recognised the familiar condescending tone he usually used when the two of you were in bed together. Despite the fact that your brain was still coming to terms with being awake, you could still feel the ache in your pussy kick in again. “Unfortunately, my sweet girl isn't so sweet after all. Nasty little whore needs teaching a lesson.”
You subconsciously spread your legs, giving him access to the place that you so desperately wanted him. The display made him let out a low chuckle, which in turn made your hips buck slightly. Just the sound of his voice was enough to drive you crazy with need.
“Yun,” you whined, the words coming out jumbled, your fingers still pressed firmly down on your tongue. Only now did you crack your eyes open wide enough to get a good look at him. He was all dressed up in his dress shirt and slacks, sleeve rolled up to his elbows and hands in his pockets. He looked just as handsome as he did ‘in-charge’ and you loved every second of it.
“She speaks,” He squatted down so that his face lined up with yours. You couldn't help but notice how pretty he looked with those long black bangs sitting on his brow bone and that cruel glint in his eye that warned you of just how much trouble you were in. “Shame you can’t use that brain to follow instructions, huh?” The question was rhetorical, but you nodded anyway.
You felt a warm hand wrap around your dominant hand’s wrist and pull. With a pop, your fingers were finally free from your wet cavern, but not for long. You watched with the utmost interest as Yunho opened his own mouth and encapsulated your fingers inside. He hummed deeply, letting his eyes flutter closed as he tasted your spit on your fingers. His tongue moved on its own, lapping at the appendages as if your saliva was going to be his last drink. It felt so dirty, but he didn't even blink an eye. It's as if it was the most natural thing in the world.
You never knew that your fingertips were an erogenous zone, but the feeling of his tongue trailing along them only served to make you wetter. You squeezed your thighs together, ignoring the painfully loud squelch as you did so. Your panties were embarrassingly soaked, but you couldn't help it. Not when Yunho was acting like the embodiment of temptation itself.
“You taste so sweet,” he mumbled as he pulled his mouth off of you. When he opened his eyes again, you couldn't help but notice that his pupils were blown out, lust taking over his face entirely. You couldn't see yourself, but you were almost positive that you were faring no better. “And that's why you’re my sweetheart, sweetheart.”
You gave him a sleepy giggle as he went back to lapping at your fingertips with the tiniest of kitten-licks. His tongue danced along them, dipping in between and swirling around the tips.
“I love you, Yun,” the words slipped from your lips before you could stop them. He smiled. A proper smile full of joy and love. It made your heart pitter-patter giddily.
“I love you too, Sweetheart,” He leaned forwards to offer you a sweet kiss to the lips. It was short lived, but it made your heart flutter like you were a schoolgirl receiving a letter from her crush. When he pulled away, his eyes were much darker, and that fuzzy, gentle feeling was replaced with hard, powerful lust. You swallowed hard as Yunho let a twisted little grin paint his face, “but I’m about to fuck you like I don’t.”
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ithinkabouttzu · 8 months
Text
Ateez reaction to being small spoon 。・:*˚:✧。
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genre: fluff; romance
warnings; kissing
description: The Ateez members reaction to being the small spoon while cuddling with their s/o
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Hongjoong : Oh man he’s been waiting for you to bring this up to him. He’ll act nonchalant about it, like it isn’t really a big deal, “Sure I can be small spoon” But the moment he does oml. He’ll get so clingy and babyish with you. He loves feeling your arms around him and it’s just a place where he can let go of all kinds of stress and worries. He just feels so safe and comfortable that he almost immediately falls asleep in ur arms.
Seonghwa: He gets so flustered when you ask him if he wants to be small spoon. Like there’s nothing wrong with it or anything he just gets so shy when he thinks about you holding him :( It’s so cute, he will make sure to grab your hand and hold it in his while you guys cuddle 😭 It becomes routine, especially after he has a bad day, like he doesn’t have to say anything, just ask for cuddles is enough for you to get the message, feeling you around him is just so comforting :((
Yunho : He is quick to agree to it, finding the closest spot in the house for you guys to cuddle on, and making himself comfortable. He’s just a gentle giant who loves a good cuddle session every once and while. He has a huge smile on his face the whole time, and don’t forget how he will tell you how much he loves you while you’re cuddling him. You guys would be watching a movie, and then all of a sudden you’d hear his soft snores and you’re heart would melt, he gets so sleepy when he’s cuddling with you it’s so cute :’)
Yeosang : When you bring up wanting to be big spoon, this sweet boy would make out a whole pallet in the living room for you guys. Like a whole little movie theater, snacks, blankets, you’re favorite food, he has it all set out, and when you guys turn on the movie he immediately just turns his back to you, waiting to be cuddled and it’s like the cutest thing ever. He’ll tell you how much he likes it when the movie ends and it becomes an automatic cuddle position for you guys in the future.
San : Ohh I can’t even tell you how baby he gets when you are big spoon, he’ll whine and tell you to get closer even though it’s physically impossible to get any closer. “cmonnn y/n I barely feel you, wrap your arms around me at leastttt” He just can’t help himself when you guys are cuddling, it’s his time to be a lil baby and just enjoy your presence. He loves being small spoon on nights where he can’t get much sleep, like he’ll ask for cuddles in his sleepy voice it’s so cute. He goes to bed almost instantly when you hold him.
Mingi: Ahhhh he loves it so much l, like he’s just so precious to you. “Y/n, you’re so soft, let’s just stay like this forever” 😫, he really likes when you give him cuddles after a tough day. Its like right when he sees you all he can do is run into your arms and ask if you want to cuddle, in hopes that you say yes. He is so grateful for you and truly loves you, so anytime where he just gets to be close to you is the best. When he gets sleepy in your arms all he can do is repeat how much he loves you until he falls asleep :(((
Wooyoung: he gets so mad if you try to get up at all 😭, “Don’t leaveee” He’d get so whiny and you’d just have to tell him you needed to go to the bathroom but he’d still be pouty about it oml. Calls himself a “professional cuddler” LOLL, but in all seriousness, he finds so much peace in your arms, like every headache goes away with you, so just being embraced by you is probably the best thing ever. Only problem is that he’ll be clingy for the rest of the time you guys cuddle.
Jongho: It’s so calming cuddling him, it’s probably more therapeutic for you then him. Like he’s just so soft and cuddly ughhhh. Loves to bring the closest hand of yours up to his lips and place soft kisses on them and just caress it until he gets sleepy. Usually you guys are pretty quiet when cuddling. It’s just time where you guys can enjoy eachothers presence and relax in it in peace. Usually you guys cuddle before bed, just holding him before he falls asleep, or until you fall sleep, and then he’ll switch with you and be big spoon.
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A/n: I hope you guys liked this! Make sure to request more Ateez stuff if you enjoyed! Also likes and reblogs are appreciated always ;)
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