#Seventeen Fluff | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

gyuswhore · 11 hours ago

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Honeymoon Avenue

Jeon Wonwoo x f!reader | @highvern birth special

word count: 8.7k

contains: newlyweds!reader and wonwoo, minor injuries, lots of fluff, multiple smut scenes (MINORS DNI), they're sick and in love its gross

synopsis: You and Wonwoo have said your I dos in front of the entire world, and now it's time to uphold them when it's just you and him.

[a/n]: HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO MY ONE AND ONLY MY GUIDING STAR MY WIFE AND PARTNER IN CRIME CAMOTHY @highvern I love you so much this fic is purely to torture you and only you and no one else. you asked for honeymoon wonu and you are receiving honeymoon wonu. I hope you enjoy it ily ily ily

thank you so much to @starlightkyeom for betaing and listening to me yap about this, I love u to the moon and back, and thank you to @shadowkoo for all the help on the banner, ly raven <333

ps: heads up that is isn't very plot heavy I tried something new this time and attempted to let it flow as it came out. hope it holds up!! if you aren't cam then u must pay taxes in A) going to her blog and wishing her a happy birthday, and B) tell me ur thots about the fic in da reblogs heh!!! :3

masterlist

You let out the deepest exhale of your life.

Haphazardly strewn chairs, and you find the nearest one and plop yourself and your skewed reception dress on the padding. Your numb feet don’t have a chance to thank you immediately, but the tingly feeling means they aren’t entirely a lost cause.

Slouching as far as your shoulders would go, you pan the nearly empty venue, one that now looks like you accidentally slipped a tornado an invitation. Your eyes land on where Wonwoo is saying goodbye to the last few guests who definitely did not pay heed to your request for temperance at the bar. The uncle grips his bicep like a vice, blubbering congratulations you could hear all the way where you sat.

Wonwoo’s suit jacket and waistcoat are gone with the wind, hair tousled and spiking every which way—near inverse of the gelled, waxed and styled they sat earlier in the day; the first time you laid eyes on him standing at the altar with the sun in his eyes. The crisp of his shirt is now wrinkled from the dancing and the hugging and every other excessive movement he had to subject himself to today. The final stragglers are your family, your sister already moving over to push you out of your chair.

“I just sat down!” you whine, not caring for decorum with the absolute day you’ve had.

“Go on with him, you have a flight to catch!” she stresses. “We’ll handle everything here.”

Wonwoo catches the last bit as he returns, hands in his pockets, sleeves rolled up to the elbows. Blatantly, you stare. “Handle what?”

“You guys should go ahead first,” she says.

“We have some time till we need to start rushing,” he responds, twisting his arm to look at the watch on his wrist. The lights are back on, so you can see him significantly clearer without the disco lights and low spotlights. His forearm is practically in your face, and if you weren’t so exhausted you would’ve taken a dive at the divot, teeth first.

But you don’t, because what stares you both in the face right now is a month long getaway of blue sky, green waters and lots and lots and lots of completely alone time. Since your sister is already so keen to get rid of you both, Wonwoo decides for you as he excuses himself to grab his strewn clothes.

She turns to you in his absence, and you immediately know there’s a grenade smoking behind her goading grin. “Well…?”

Brows raised, you’re defiant in your decision to remain nonchalant. “Well what?”

“Are you excited?”

“Of course I am, I just got married.”

“I mean the honeymoon.”

“Who isn’t dying to go Seychelles?”

She huffs and rolls her eyes. “You’re no fun.”

You shoot her an equally infuriating smile, “You can’t be mean to me today.”

“I already have,” she responds.

You don’t have a chance to be annoyed because Wonwoo is back, clothes draped over his arm as you are suddenly ushered into saying your last goodbyes. Flats on and heels in hand, ready to peacefully stroll out of the building you got married in.

You hook your arm around his as you cross the threshold out, the wind pleasant in the pitch black night. Walking to the car, the one you bought together, you feel like the threat of your dangerously full heart might finally erupt.

All day has been a rushing incline of adrenaline, from the moment you woke up, sticky eyed with bridesmaids over your head, to getting into your dress, to standing behind the giant oak doors that led you to the altar of your future. To the moment you heard the love of your life say I do for everyone who mattered to hear.

It’s late, and your flats crunch under gravel, pressuring every sore point in your foot. But you don’t care. One of Wonwoo’s arms is draped by his coat, and the other by you, a pressing silence falling over your pair. At peace.

“I’m glad we didn’t have a grand exit,” Wonwoo speaks your thoughts.

“Mhm,” you reply. “I like this better.” You look up at him as he halts his steps for a minute, and he leans down to kiss you for the nth time that night. All smiles.

The finality of an Exit felt like a staggering halt to your special day. You already knew you’d never want it to end, opting to let the night trickle out, ending it with just you left on the floor.

Something told you this would be more memorable anyway.

Everything’s packed and ready when you get home, a service to present you from past you. You turn to Wonwoo, who’s toeing his shoes off, who also was a horrendous sport when it came to packing early.

“Aren’t you glad we did this beforehand?” you taunt, waving your hands at the packed bags near the door. He only smirks, leaning in to grab your face and kiss you again.

“Of course, wife’s always right,” he mumbles against your lips, and the giddy feeling that’s been simmering all day gushes once again.

Wife.

“Welcome to the rest of your life.”

The dim bathroom light seeps into the bedroom, where you scratch your skin with makeup wipes to get the first layer off your tired face. It’s easy to slouch, wanting nothing more than to lay back against the pillows and fall asleep, fully dressed. You’re aware of all the outside germs you’re transferring onto your pristine sheets, but also cannot find the strength to care.

The water shuts off, and you take it as your cue to slug off the bed and take off your dress. Reaching over, your fingers grapple for the hook with no avail, arms already showing the first inklings of a very sore weekend. The zipper isn’t even within your vicinity, fingers aiming for nothing but skin and fabric.

You smell Wonwoo before you can register he’s out of the shower, the humidity carrying the scent of his body wash to where you stood on the other side of the room. It takes no time for you to feel both his hands on your waist, pulling you towards him before you can open your mouth to ask.

Cold fingers brush the skin above the hook of your dress, and it takes an effort to not melt into the carpet entirely. The dress is unhooked, the zipper pulled down as you feel the fabric release you into the bedroom air. He helps you push it over your hips, letting it pool onto the floor.

The sigh you release lingers in the air, prompting him to put his hands on your shoulders, squeezing your shoulders, thumbs digging into the back of your neck to release all the pent up tension. Then your upper arms, where he pulls you even closer, bare back hitting his damp chest.

“Tired?” he mumbles, arms circling around you and squeezing you tight.

Leaning back is the easiest thing you’ve ever done, only humming in response as you close your eyes, head against his shoulder. Droplets hit your skin in a cold cascade, his hair still wet. His hands roam around any expanse of skin he can find without releasing his pressure on your form, squeezing and massaging. The weight is welcomed, nearly falling asleep by the time he’s mouthing at your shoulder, breathing in the sweat of your skin.

“Are you gonna need help in the shower?” he asks. You know he’s not being cheeky, and you consider saying yes seeing as you’re five seconds from falling asleep standing up.

“I think I’ll be fine,” you mumble. “I’ll keep the door open in case I crack my skull on the tile.”

“Can’t have you dying on our wedding night,” he says.

“Enjoy the life insurance payout,” you crack one eye open, staring up at him.

“How many hours have we been married?” he muses.

You want to kiss him, suddenly slammed with a tsunami’s force of affection for the man that holds your leaning body against him like an ever-present pillar. Married.

He lets you go, but not before helping you pick out every last bobby pin in your hair, during which he remains in nothing but the damp towel around his waist. At one point you face him, forehead on his chest as he unravels your hair from the crown.

“Your towel’s inside, I’ll grab your clothes,” he says when he releases you, letting you walk into the bathroom to wash off the day.

Simply raising your arms to shampoo your hair is turning out to be a conquest despite the fumes of the scorching water invading your vision. The door is half open, and you can hear Wonwoo shuffling about in the bedroom, no doubt fixing the last bits before you have to leave for the airport.

Immediately, you sigh, the thought of loading and unloading the uber, going through security, checking your bags and then the god-knows-how-many hours of flight time settling in your bones like an additional phantom ache. By the time you’re done, towel wrapped around your chest and droplets of water still cooling your skin after a half hearted attempt at drying yourself, you’re spent.

Wonwoo is zipping up a bag when you emerge, unfortunately wearing clothes now.

“You wanna sit in the towel while I dry your hair,” he asks, already pulling out the hair dryer from the drawer.

“Are you done packing?” you ask, frowning.

“Just your toothbrush left.” He plugs it into the outlet. “I’ll grab it while you change.”

Forehead leaning on his tummy, he tousles the wet mop of your hair as the dryer fills the room with its white noise. That, paired with the bed where you sit, once again, is turning out to be a seductor of a lifetime.

When he’s done, and brushing out the tangles in your hair, you find the strength to ask him. “Why aren’t you as tired as I am?”

He chuckles, eyes focused on a knot that’s giving him a hard time. “For starters I slept for five extra hours. You know, considering my side of the party didn’t need to cake their faces.”

“You didn’t like my makeup?” you jab in jest.

“I loved it,” he responds, leaning down to kiss you on the forehead. “We’ll talk about it on the plane, considering you don’t fall asleep before we can even take off.”

“Or in the car. Or in the lounge.” You yawn openly. “Or right now.”

When you stand up, you wrap your arms around his neck, wanting to touch him for a little bit before attempting to put on clothes. His lips find the crook of your neck immediately, hands gripping you through your towel.

“I love you,” you mumble against his skin.

“I love you more,” he responds. “I know I already said it a thousand times, but this is still the happiest I’ve ever been.”

You have to bite back a snarky reply, but you feel the pool in your eyes anyway. Inexplicably, you hold on to him tighter. Worried if you opened your mouth you’d begin to sob—again.

He does let go of you, but only when his eyes land on the time. You’re dressed by the time he’s called the Uber and grabbed your toothbrush, shoving it into the front pocket of one of the bags. You’re quite useless the entire time, but Wonwoo doesn’t mind as he loads your limited bags into the trunk.

You manage to keep your eyes open on the ride to the airport, manage to not be a nuisance as you check in, and make it to the lounge with limited hassle.

“We only need to wait like twenty minutes, we were pretty on time,” he mentions, handing you a to-go cup of coffee the approximate size of your face. “We get to board first anyway.”

Months ago, while you were thick in the trenches of wedding planning, you went back and forth for a very long time about flight tickets. Not your destination, but the decision between business and economy was a conversation that stretched over weeks.

Today, with your jelly arms and mushy mind, you thank your heavenly stars through bites of fancy lounge sushi for making the collective decision to splurge. Wonwoo is taking it upon himself to let your friends and family know you’d checked in, while you lean wholly against his arm, dreaming about the flat, comforter clad surface of your plane seat, and the joy you’re going to have for the hours to come.

Inhaling the amount of coffee that you did in the lounge meant the prior sleep in your eyes had decided to evacuate for the time being, getting tucked into your seat soon after take off.

To be clear, you were more than happy with your decision on the seat, but you realise quickly that you and Wonwoo are blocked out by a divider between you, closing you off. You assume you were pouting at the realization, because you hear him ask.

“Don’t like the seat?”

“No, I do,” you say. “But you’re so far away.”

He smiles, close mouthed, the one where it looks like he might be smirking. An arm snakes over the console, elbow towards you as his forearm rests against it. Immediately, like this was nothing but a usual drive in your car, you lean your head against his arm, your own two arms wrapping around his.

There’s nothing in the air except the whirring of the plane's engine, the quiet chatter of the cabin as the crew prepares for turndown service.

A realisation befalls you, that this is the first time you’ve been able to sit down with Wonwoo today, without the constant buzzing in your brain about everything that has gone wrong and what could go wrong. It might be your defeated conscious talking, but it may have even been months.

Shifting your head so you can look up at him, you speak, “We have to stay married. ‘Cause I don’t think I can plan an entire wedding again.”

“So no vow renewals?”

You raise your brows, surprised this was something he’d be interested in. “Maybe when we’re sixty.”

“Oh,” he frowns. “I was thinking more like every five years.”

“God.”

“I’m glad we decided to do this,” he says.

“The seats?” you ask.

He looks at you, and you raise your head from his arm.

“Getting married.”

“That sounds like an afterthought.”

“I was nervy,” he says. “It’s like coming out the other side of a roller coaster. Took guts but you’re glad you did it.”

“Glad our special day was a vomit inducing experience for you.”

“Didn’t you cry five times while getting ready?” he jabs.

Scowling, you turn away. “Who told you that?”

“So you can throttle them in their sleep?”

It was no use, since you were both crying at the altar, but you have a bone to pick with your sister once you’re back home.

“Go to sleep,” you grumble, removing yourself from his arm. He only laughs, grabbing your arm with a force that pulls you back in.

He leans into your ear, familiar press of his lips against the skin. “You looked beautiful today.”

“So I’ve heard.”

Similar to this, with his lips pressed against your ear, hours ago on the dancefloor, he said the same thing. Over and over and over.

“I’m gonna confess something,” he whispers. For a wild moment, your heart is in your throat.

“What?” you ask sharply.

“When I went home after our first date—”

“You noted my drink order?”

He nods against your head, “That. And I dreamt of you.”

“Was I pretty?”

“Prettiest. Big smile like it was the happiest day of your life. In a white dress.”

It’s silent for a moment as neither of you move. The lump in your throat is ever present, breath quickening as you brace for the waterworks.

“Dang,” is all you say in a watery voice, one that earns you a laugh from him. The absurdity is not lost on you. “What other secrets do you possess?”

“Just that,” he responds. “Didn’t wanna tell you before. Thought you’d freak out and run away.”

“Idiot,” you mumble against his hoodie, tears wetting your lashes.

You don’t get to continue, because a flight attendant hovers over your joint seats, asking if you’d like to turn down for the night.

Wonwoo answers for both you and your aching bones. Fatigue would make you gloss over many things about the aftermath of your wedding night for years to come, but you’ll always remember the first night asleep next to your husband over rocky terrain in the sky, with so much changed, yet nothing at all.

Your first night in Seychelles was a blur, mostly because you both ate room service in expensive robes and watched The Pitt before falling asleep again.

Eyes closed, you know it’s sunny with the exceeding warmth in the room and the light against your eyelids. Opening them takes a minute, no desire to move in the morning light. At least you think it’s morning.

Shifting around, you realise you fell asleep in your robe, the tie unravelled, turning it into a loose shrug over your naked form. Through bleary eyes, your eyes meet the linen curtains and how they blow in the wind that pours through the open sliding doors. Blue skies and hanging branches of deep green trees are all you see, and your husband, standing over the railing overlooking your private pool.

Maybe it was the haze of being half asleep, but for a second it feels like a dream. He’s in a white T-shirt, messy hair indicating he didn’t wake too long before you did, basking in the sunlit glow of the morning. His back is to you, but it’s enough.

He hardly notices you get up and walk to the bathroom, the rustling of the trees masking most of your movements. When you’re done washing up, robe tightened around your waist, you emerge onto the makeshift porch of your hotel suite.

Arms immediately make their way around his waist, alerting him of your presence. “Morning,” you mumble into his shirt.

“Morning, baby,” he shifts so he can hold you too, leaning down to place a kiss on your forehead. “Sleep well.”

“As well as I could.” It was a frivolous question, considering he was well aware you could sleep well on pavement if he was next to you, presence inches away.

“It’s so pretty in the day,” you comment. The private pool was one thing, but the way the trees and plants hovered over the open area, swaying in the breeze left the impression they’d situated the room in the middle of a jungle.

“Mhm,” he responds, having had his fill of the view of the hotel, currently more interested in the bare expanse of your neck. His lips trail over the skin, leaving kisses and gentle nips, now caging you between him and the railing. “Pretty.”

Of course, the obvious connotations of a honeymoon hadn’t escaped you—in the weeks leading up to your wedding, there wasn’t a loved one who would let you. But it feels like a delayed reaction after the hectic 48 hours you’ve had, finally at peace in what feels like the most beautiful place in the world.

You let him grope you over the fabric, let his mouth run over every sliver of skin he can find. Facing him, your hands find the back of his neck to pull him down towards you, mouth to mouth properly.

You melt, sighing into his mouth as he moves impossibly closer, pressing you against the railing as your head moves further back. Mouthing at your jaw, he lets you push him back in through the open door.

He understands when you’re being pushed right back into your unmade bed. Pulling at the mountain of comforters, he lets them drop to the floor. “God it’s been torture,” he groans, hands moving up your thighs, through the irregular folds of your robe, cool palms against your hot skin.

“You wanted to leave right after the reception,” you tease. The robe remains tied, and you make no move to undo it yourself.

“Didn’t realise I’d have to hold back for this long,” he says, hands reaching the knot. His mouth is back on yours as he undoes it, pulling agonizingly slow.

Tucking his hands into the undone robe, he runs them over your naked body underneath, pulling the fabric away from your body. Migrating down your neck, his hot breath mixes with the wind coming through the outside, casting shivers down your spine.

Mouth over your breast, his teeth graze over your skin as he sucks. His free hand gropes your other breast, fingers pinching and flicking over the erect nipple. Head thrown back, you can’t stop the way your hips gyrate on nothing, moving to feel friction of any sort.

He only lets go when your hands grapple at his shirt, noises of frustration for every passing moment you couldn’t feel his skin on yours. Shirt thrown somewhere behind him, his shorts follow, before ripping the robe off you entirely, leaving you completely bare.

Moving higher up against the bed, Wonwoo situates himself like he’s about to live there, hands pushing your thighs apart as wide as they could go. In the morning light, he stares his fill of the glistening swells of your core. Fingers grazing over the back of your thighs, he massages the skin closer and closer to where you need him most.

“You’re gorgeous,” he mumbles, moving back up to kiss you one more time, deep and long.

Distracted, his thumb pressing a stripe down your clit catches you by surprise, gasping into his mouth at the feeling. His thumb reaches your hole, catching the wetness at the entrance, dipping shallowly. Travelling back up, he presses into the centre of your clit beginning with tight circles around the area.

Whining into his mouth, your hands travel to his shoulder, down his arms to grip the muscle. Your other hand grips the sheet as he presses harder into your clit, localising his torture to one tiny area, occasionally rubbing all over.

“Wonwoo,” you moan into his mouth, hardly kissing anymore as you pant into his mouth.

Two fingers push into your hole, the pads pushing up against your walls as his knuckles graze over them. He begins to pump in and out, scissoring his fingers to open you wider. The feeling has you throwing your head back, breathless.

When he removes his fingers you nearly scream, but his hand is at the waistband of his boxers, just as desperate as you feel. The tent is obvious even as he pulls the fabric down, watching his painfully erect member slap against his stomach. Your hands wrap around his own that lay at the base, caressing past to pump him as he positions himself between you.

It’s hypnotising, the redness of his tip, the way it leaks onto your fingers after just a few strokes. Wonwoo’s face is pained, and you realise he may have been serious about feeling tortured.

Not that you were any less desperate, but the agony of needing to remain celibate for the weeks leading up to your wedding weren’t planned—you could hardly find time to eat and sleep. It flew over you, that it might've been a little tougher on him than it was on you, but when you pull him in closer, you make sure that changes.

Knees bent, he pushes your thighs apart as he settles in. He sinks in slowly, “Oh this is gonna be quick.”

You don’t mind, because you’ve remained untouched long enough to not last very long either. “Right there with you,” you groan out, engulfed by the stretch.

He’s slack jawed, hair falling over his eyes as he struggles to keep his eyes open. His fingers dig into the plump your thighs, gripping them like they were the only things keeping him tied down to earth.

It’s bliss, even as he remains stationary for a moment, buried into you till the hilt. Slowly, he pulls out, rocking back in. He picks up the pace, folding your legs over as he watches the way he disappears into your wet pussy, milky white beginning to rim at the base of his cock, a mix of your slick wetness and his precum. He nearly cums at the sight.

Your fingers play with your stiff nipples, head thrown back as you moan without a care of your volume or coherence, Wonwoo’s name on your lips like a mantra. His fingers find your clit, rubbing it in circles as you whine loudly at the feeling.

“You feel so good,” he moans, hips snapping up to slap against the back of your thighs. “So good, you’re so good.”

Eyes blown open as he slams a hard one into you, his groaning and moaning ensuing another warm gush out of you.

Wonwoo pauses for a moment, ducking closer to lay his forehead on yours, his spread legs keeping yours apart, hands coming up to cup the top of your head to protect you from the hard headboard.

“I love you,” he whispers into your ear with effort. “I love you so much.”

“Fuck, I love you too,” half sobbing.

“You’re amazing,” he blabs, words hardly coherent. “All mine. Mine forever. All of you.”

His words, paired with the hand that grazes over your tits, down to your swollen clit to rub it harsher than before, is enough to send you careening over the edge.

“Won—oh my god, Wonwoo I’m cumming,” you moan so loud you’re sure it’s carrying over. But you don’t care, because you wonder how you went so long without clenching around his dick like this, gushing over him as he pounded into you like it was his last day on earth.

He holds you steady as he rides you through it, the contracting of your walls pushing him into his own orgasm, shuddering in your hold as his thrusts become increasingly sloppy yet running with force.

It’s euphoric, hot spurts of his cum painting your walls, leaving his traces where no one else could ever touch you. The thought sends him into overdrive, thrusting into you long past his release dripping out of you, pooling onto the pristine sheets, glazed over your gorgeous skin.

Resting his head against your collarbone, he breathes in the salt of your sweat, mixed with the scent he calls home.

It feels like an eternity, both of you silent as the wind blows into the room over your sweaty forms, laying there in each other’s arms. Wonwoo continues to keep his mouth on you, your shoulders, tummy, waist, worshipping every last inch of your being as you catch your breath intertwined in his heat. He’s at your knees where your legs fold, hand wrapped around your ankle as he caresses it with his thumb, leaving kisses above your knee.

For a moment, he rests his head against your thigh, and the world becomes clearer. His silhouette against the light, the nature beyond your crystal windows. The weight of him now, the traces of his touch that persist, to lay here bare for your lover for life—a glimpse into the rest of time.

The moment is ruined when you feel your stomach growl, and Wonwoo is close enough to hear the rumble. He shifts so he can look at you, “Shower time? I think I saw a restaurant downstairs.”

The shower went from quick to an extra thirty minutes, considering you’d hardly washed the shampoo off before he pushes you against the tiled wall to kiss you breathless, water going cold over you as he works you with his fingers again, the thudding of water hitting the shower floor paired with the squelching of his fingers dipping in and out of your already spent hole, and the pants and moans that fill your ears.

He needs to help you into your clothes after that, which he chuckles through before pulling you to the hotel restaurant. Housing down everything in sight, Wonwoo remembers to keep your glass full in an attempt to keep you from choking on croissants of all things.

“Do you wanna hit the beach after this?” you ask.

“I was thinking about a nap before that,” he says, belting out a burp that earns him a kick under the table. It shakes, earning you looks from the rest of the vacationers. He only laughs, “But I could nap on the beach.”

Wonwoo does not, in fact, nap on the beach and instead follows your example as you pack a book in your beach bag, realising very quickly he brought none of his own, choosing to snipe one of the many you brought for yourself.

It’s you needing to turn your brain on this time, because the random book he’s grabbed has him so enraptured at the synopsis you have to pull him away from slamming directly into people and poles alike. There’s posters and notices as you walk through the connection that leads to the beach; cocktail classes, trivia nights, and tutorials on Seychellois cuisine.

“Isn’t this that movie you watched on the plane?” he asks, reading the Crazy Rich Asians on the front cover.

“Mhm, didn’t mean to pack that, I’m reading the sequel right now,” you hum as you look for the path that leads to the beach, hand in his.

It’s a gamble as the view of the white sands and water come into view, visibly smiling as you see the near empty sands. It was the off season, which you expected to mean less of a crowd.

Finding a double beach chair is easy, dumping your things as you make yourself comfortable. “Water’s nice.” Wonwoo comments, and you wonder if you did wrong with keeping your bathing suit away for today.

Squeezing a generous amount of sunscreen onto your hands, you agree with him as you dot his face with sunblock. He lets you rub it in as he looks over the water, perfectly aware that he’d never willingly put sunscreen on his face if it were up to him. He’s done, and he settles in while you protect yourself.

Leaning against Wonwoo’s arm, you’ve both grabbed your books under the giant parasol. The sun is out and warm just right, deep sounds of crashing waves, and the smell of salt—-you feel giddy.

The beachside bar is seconds away from bringing you your cocktails when his hand finds your thigh, tracing his fingers over the skin, while his other holds open the book he’s reading, twisting the cover back like a heathen.

It’s perfect.

“These are good,” Wonwoo pauses to comment, brows furrowing at the flavour of your espresso martini and his cosmopolitan.

“I think I saw something about a cocktail class at the hotel. We could try it later.”

“Oh yeah,” he agrees, sipping his drink again.

You don’t know how long it’s been, but both your glasses are now empty and Wonwoo seems to be growing distracted after a few hours. It’s still late afternoon upon you as he announces he’s going to dip his feet in the water.

You think about it, and walk to the shallow end behind him, leaving your flip flops near the chairs. The sand is plush beneath your feet, cool between your toes despite the warm afternoon. Walking closer, the water is almost blinding with the way the sun dances on its crystal surface, waves breaking and sending pleasant sprays as you walk closer.

You gasp audibly as the water touches you, turning to look at Wonwoo wide eyed and giddy. Colder than you’d expected, washing over your ankles and shins as you walk further into the water, pulling up the hems of your skirt to keep it from getting wet.

Wonwoo leans down to touch the water, fingers dipping into the clear, coming up to splash you with a handful. It earns him a yelp from you as he laughs, but you soon recover and send another one right back. You don’t panic till you see both of his hands cup enough water to practically drown you.

“Wonwoo, I didn’t bring extra clothes!” you yell, already running away.

The irony doesn’t escape you, considering sprinting through the water has wet your clothes more than his splashes. But you're laughing harder than your breath can catch, and even more so when his wet hands grab you by the torso and pull you back in a lurch, suspended in the air for a moment.

“Wonwoo!”

It’s funny for a few minutes, still encased in a fit of giggles as you kick at the water. Until it isn’t.

Wonwoo separates from you for a moment, venturing a little deeper into the water, swearing he saw a ring of colourful fish swim past the shallow end. You’re in the middle of convincing yourself to follow him when you hear him suddenly splash at the water with shocking force.

Stunned, you hardly register what’s just happened, thinking you’ve just heard him yell. He’s out of the water before you, hunched over and grabbing at his calf. By the time you reach him, you can see it.

An ugly red slash across his calf, long and thin. It looks like a chemical burn.

“What—”

“Shit,” he curses. An anomaly, considering you’ve only heard Wonwoo curse about five times in the years you’ve known him.

“What is that?” you ask, immediately on your knees to get a closer look. It’s growing redder by the second, the swelling clear.

Wonwoo stretches over to try to see, “That might’ve been a jellyfish.”

“You weren’t even in that deep!”

“Deep enough I guess,” he winces.

Bringing him to the shallow end, you try to pour more seawater on his reddened skin, hoping your memory is serving you right and you aren’t just making it worse.

A few minutes later, a life guard is applying a topical cream on the area and giving you instructions to let the wound soak in warm water, assuring him he can get back in the pool in a couple days.

Once the shock wears off, it’s almost a little funny. “That’s a story we’re gonna be telling forever,” you mumble as he gets up from the table in the tiny lifeguard tent.

The man turns to you, “It happens sometimes, people usually just sleep on it and have a great rest of their vacation. Don’t worry about it too much.”

You thank him as you mutually decide to call it a day, moving back towards the hotel. Wonwoo seems alright, walking fine as he holds your hand talking about dinner plans. You suggest room service by the pool so he can keep off his leg, but insists he wants to try the traditional spot just outside the hotel.

Heeding, you let him pull you back into the hotel room to clean up and rest. Except this time he’s serious about the nap.

Wonwoo doesn’t fight you when you suggest staying off the beach today, choosing to occupy yourselves with the cocktail class instead.

It’s in the hotel so you don’t have to leave the premises, the venue moderately full when you enter the room. The instructor introduces himself as Marcus, taking the time to make small talk with you both as you wait for everyone else to file in. His face lights up when Wonwoo tells him this was your honeymoon, very outwardly enthusiastic about having a couple in the class.

So much so, that when the class eventually does begin, you hear a loud call for congratulations from the room for the only newlyweds (you). Mortified a little, you both fluster in your thank yous, attempting to move the attention back to the front where Marcus remains jovial as ever.

“I think that’s too much ice,” you comment, attempting to compare the pile in your glass to Marcus’ up front.

“No, it’s one scoop. It’s what he said,” Wonwoo says, but he’s beginning to look a little lost.

“Doesn’t that look like a lot?” you ask, not convinced. But there isn’t much you can do about it, because you’re suddenly being asked to find one of the syrups on the counter, still rummaging while Marcus is already two steps ahead of you.

It’s hard not to giggle, the energy from your station overwrought. But as you finally make your first drink after 20 whole minutes, you stand with straight shoulders.

It’s another two hours of this, spilling precious spirits on the counter, floor and yourself, hands stained with syrups and fingers numb from picking up the giant spill of ice courtesy of your husband. You have to duck under the table for a moment, knowing your chortles would disrupt the class even more than you’ve done unintentionally already.

Making cocktails meant drinking cocktails as you made even more cocktails. Marcus only seems to encourage the class to get day drunk, but that only resulted in added chaos.

But even when you’re back in your hotel room, tipsy and giggly, you’re glad you did it.

Wonwoo is spread eagle on the bed, still laughing about tripping over air in the hotel lobby. You join him, tucking yourself into his arm. Head lolling over to look at you, he dips his head down to kiss you, lips over your own in a close mouth peck. He doesn’t stop, lingering with every press to your mouth, still slightly smiling against your lips.

“It’s been a day and this is already the best trip of my life,” he mutters against your lips. You’re very aware of it this time, a habit he’s had forever.

You flashback for a moment, and suddenly you’re both a lot younger, alot less wise with constantly flushed cheeks in each other’s presence. It’s at the door of your old apartment, the same one where he would take you in more ways than one in the following months and years.

But for now, it was your third date, and you were shifting your weight between your feet, trying not to feel disappointed as he bid you a goodnight with nothing but a smile and a wave. Mustering a smile of your own, you unlock the door and begin to walk in.

Except instead of descending steps, there’s a pause. And Wonwoo was back before you could even cross the threshold. He didn’t ask when he cupped your face and planted one on you, mouth to mouth for the very first time, one hand over your door handle and the other on his wrist.

“Sorry that took so long,” he mumbled against your mouth, the first time of many, sheepish smile on his face.

But your heart felt like it was about to burst, so you went in for another one, opening your mouth to kiss him properly. And then the door had shut behind you both, and you’d dragged him inside.

Tipsy haze and a little love drunk in your hotel room, on your honeymoon, you laugh against his mouth. “What,” he asks, laughing with you over nothing.

“I’m glad you didn’t chicken out that night. After the drive in.”

Wonwoo doesn’t need any more information, because the events of the day were ingrained into his mind like a brand. Not your first date, but your third, where he almost didn’t kiss you, where he almost never took the steps back up the stairs, where you almost slammed the door in his face.

“I don’t think I would’ve wanted a fourth if you didn’t do it,” you say, eyes locked in on him.

The thought scares him, that tiny mistake that never happened, how it would have altered the trajectory of his life. It’s terrifying, dread settling into his stomach. To this day he’s unsure why he’d hesitated as much as he did, especially considering he dreamt of your wedding the first night after he’d laid eyes on you.

“You looked sad,” he says. “Disappointed. Just, not happy. I thought that meant you didn’t enjoy yourself, but…I was on the staircase when I realised I felt sad too.”

He leans into you, lips planting kisses on the apples of your cheeks, to your fluttering eyelids, “Didn’t think much after that. Glad I didn’t, because I probably would have chickened out in the end.”

“We’re married,” you whisper like it’s a secret. “Can you believe that?”

“I can’t. Sometimes I still wake up and think I dreamt you up.”

“Are you calling me unreal?”

“Because you are,” he says. “I’m not sure how you exist.”

That sticky feeling engulfs you again, and you know it’s because you’re a little drunk, but you’ve been teary enough to last you a lifetime just these past few days. Before you turn into a blubbering mess, you push yourself up.

“Well,” you clear your throat. “I’m gonna go ahead and be unreal and not exist in the pool we are yet to use.”

He stares as you get up, walking to your open suitcase to rummage around for your stack of bathing suits. He remains on the bed, head propped up with his arm as he watches, content.

You don’t bother with going to the bathroom, stripping off your shirt and shorts in the room. You fish out a green piece, only to hear a refute.

“Where’s the yellow?” he asks, and you fish around to come out with the butter yellow two piece you didn’t realise he even knew you had.

“Actually,” he slips off the bed, walking over to open the sliding doors that lead to the outside, glancing around. “Do you really need it?”

You only give him a look, proceeding to go to the bathroom to change out of your underwear anyway. He makes a noise of disapproval, but you respond with the loud sound of the door locking shut.

When you emerge Wonwoo has soothed himself by taking a dip into the pool himself. You have to laugh, watching him paddle through the water with his swim goggles on.

“Does it hurt? The sting?” you call out as you sit by the edge of the pool, dipping your feet in the water to start yourself off.

He breaks the surface, hair flat over his head like a bowl. He spits out a mouthful of water before calling out, “No! I put the topical on this morning, I think it’s working.”

If that were you, you’d probably be out of commission for the rest of the holiday, but as he dives back in to check how long he can hold his breath for, you want to applaud him. You jump in after a few minutes, finally getting yourself wet.

Wonwoo comes over to you, letting you wrap your legs around him as you float as one. You do, however, rip the goggles right off his face. He doesn’t refute, letting them sink to the bottom of the pool.

“Don’t you think I’m so strong?” he asks.

“I’d say the water’s doing most of the work,” you note.

“I meant my fatal injury.”

“Hardly fatal if you’re making jokes about it,” you snort. “Do you feel like a man?”

“Yeah.” He’s smiling a dumb smile, and you know he can hardly see a thing without his glasses. “Are you impressed?”

“So impressed,” you sigh, leaning in to kiss the tip of his nose.

You let him go for a little bit, wanting to float by yourself for a while. As the sky breaks through branches of low hanging trees and giant green flats of leaves, you realise your not-soberness is probably contributing to how psychedelic the view looks.

But you aren’t complaining, content with the weightless feeling.

Wonwoo can’t help himself from meddling for too long, because suddenly you're being lifted off the surface just to be dunked under the water, flailing for a moment before breaking the surface.

“Wonwoo!” you screech, but he’s already on the opposite end of the pool, laughing maniacally. You’re rethinking your stance on drunk Wonwoo, because you aren’t liking him too much.

He’s unfortunately a faster swimmer, but you have him cornered in the pool. He makes to go below, escaping your wrath of you and your dripping wet hair, but instead you hear him yell.

Through the water, you watch him grab his calf, face contorted like he banged the sting wound on the wall of the pool. Immediately, you move forward to check on him.

“Does it hurt?” you ask sharply, mind already racing to where the topical was inside the room.

But you should’ve known, because as soon as you’re close enough for him to grab, you’re being snatched off guard and caged between him and the pool wall.

You want to stay mad at him, but it’s difficult when you note how his shoulders are blocking the entire sun from view, casting you in a shadow shaped like your husband.

“What was that for?”

He only shrugs, hands roaming the expanse of your skin in the water. “I missed you.”

Rolling your eyes, you attempt to break free. He blocks you, whining as he buries his face into your neck. “I said I missed you.”

Another thing about drunk Wonwoo—his sex drive shoots for the clouds.

Even now as he’s mouthing the side of your neck, you can feel him through his swim trunks, pressing you against the pool wall, water spilling over the edge. His input on your choice of swimwear should’ve been your sign, but as he fiddles with the straps of your bottoms, you decide to resign into him.

Water is Wonwoo’s biggest enemy as he finds out how difficult it is to create friction like this, the tent in his bottoms pressing against your stomach. You decide you’re going to be nice, palming him through his trunks. Your other hand is around his middle, roaming to his front as you let them wander over his skin.

He groans contently into your neck, coming up to take your mouth. His tongue pushes in, and you let him lick and suck on your tongue, pulling away only to go right back in. It seems your hands aren’t enough, because he’s suddenly gripping you by the sides and pulling you out of the water, finding yourself sitting by the poolside.

There’s water everywhere as you get a headstart, but he’s enthusiastic even while tipsy, lifting you off the ground at the steps. To your surprise, he doesn’t head for the bedroom, and instead places you on one of the beach chairs on the porch.

“Wonwoo,” you begin, slightly scandalised.

“It’s just us,” he says, nipping at the shell of your ear.

It was sheltered enough, canopied but exposed enough to have you giggling through it. Wonwoo is an efficient man, not a second wasted as he rids you of your bottoms, his own swimming trunks coming off, landing somewhere on the floor with a wet thwack.

He’s sinking into you within seconds, hovering over you as he mouths your cleavage spilling out of your bikini top, licking and dragging his tongue over your skin. You move to take it off, but he stops you.

“No,” he says sharply, pinning your hands in front of you. “Stays on.”

So maybe you underestimated how much he liked it, but you can’t bother to think about it when he picks up his pace, slamming into you so hard the chair rattles and shakes beneath you. Your wrists remained tied with his hand, reaching out as far as you can to touch his stomach, needing to feel him somehow.

The noises you're making are only fueling him, hand coming up to squeeze your breast through the wet fabric, slipping his fingers underneath to play with your nipple, erect from the cold. His knees are in place steadfast on either side of the beach chair, and you have to ask.

“Isn’t that–humph–burning?” you ask through pants.

“Don’t,” he thrusts up hard, “care.”

Taking a moment, you look up at him, and he’s enamoured with the sight of your wet body in front of him, but all you can see is how he manages to encase you with his body alone, the flop his hair over his beautiful eyes, How pretty he looks in the partial shade. How in love he looks with you.

His thrusts are getting sloppier, and you’re moaning so loud it’s beginning to hurt your throat. “Wonwoo, I think—”

“Me too, me too, me too,” he babbles as he feels the familiar clamp of your walls around him, the mesmerizing arch of your back, the way you rip your hands from his hold, only to seize his arms to ground yourself as you ride out your high. He doesn’t fail to abuse your clit, fingers pressing and rubbing just hard enough to send you to a place so far away from here.

“Oh…Wonwoo, fuck, that’s so–so good.” It sounds like a sob, and maybe you are crying a little bit.

He follows you on your descent, hips harried and face contorted like he’s forgotten how to hold himself back. He cums inside you, and you can’t help moaning at the feeling.

He’s hardly brought himself down to Earth when you’re being yanked towards the side of the beach chair, legs over the edge. There’s a loud groan from the chair as it's yanked to the side so Wonwoo can sit on the floor in front of you.

Legs thrown over his shoulder, he watches as the white of his cum leaks out of your raw hole, the sight nearly giving him another erection before he can even dry off. His mouth meets your cunt, lapping at the mix of his cum and your release off your thighs, your hole, spilled over your clit.

You’re overstimulated, but you only prop yourself on your forearms to watch him suck on your clit like he was starved, tongue flat on the muscle as he rubs against your folds. His finger pushes through your entrance, the sound downright sinful as he pumps his cum in and out of your hole. The second orgasm hits you like a truck, shaking like you’d lost yourself on the chair as you finish hard. Seeing stars in daylight, painting the blue sky.

When Wonwoo emerges, eyes dazed and a slight smirk on his face, he’s panting, leaning against your thighs. He places one last open mouthed kiss against your thigh before dealing with your jellied form, slumping against the chair as you attempt to relearn how to breathe.

“You–” you pant. “We need to get drunk more often.”

He only grins at your suggestion to turn into alcoholics for the sake of mind blowing sex.

“I love you,” he says as he scoops you up into his arms, and you want to ask what ounce of superhuman strength he even had left to pull you into a sitting position, seeing as your own muscles are of no help whatsoever.

Your legs are swung across his thighs as you sit on his lap till you can recover. His mouth is covered in your bodily fluids, but you’re reminded what love feels like when you let him kiss you all over regardless.

“I love you too,” you say. “And I’ll keep loving you if you keep eating me out like that.”

“What happened to unconditional love?” he laughs.

You push back the wet mop of his hair, letting his face come into full view.

“Still unconditional,” you respond. “Always unconditional.”

He leans in to kiss you, and you immediately taste the salt on his tongue, but all you want is to move deeper.

“Unconditional,” he mumbles into your mouth, and you're immediately smiling.

He pulls away for a moment, staring at you for a moment. “I think you’ve recovered.”

“Hm?” you question.

You know the answer when you’re suddenly being yanked by the hand back inside. “Wonwoo,” you scream as he gives you no room to prepare, pulling you indoors while the sliding door slams shut behind you.

Yeah. You like how forever is turning out.

331 notes · View notes

xinganhao · 24 days ago

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🍀 svt reacts to you calling them your ‘current’ boyfriend.

includes ─── humor/crack, fluff, one (1) joke about death, established relationship, reader is referred to as ‘girlfriend’, dramateen. ᯓ★ footnote ─── heyyy.. it’s me :-)!!! i’m a bit out of shape, so let me ease in a bit hehe.

› scroll through all my work ദ്ദി ˉ͈̀꒳ˉ͈́ )✧ ᶻ 𝗓 𐰁 .ᐟ my masterlist | @xinganhao

#svt x reader #seventeen x reader #svt imagines #seventeen imagines #svt text imagines #seventeen text imagines #svt fluff #seventeen fluff #svt smau #seventeen smau #── ᵎᵎ ✦ mine #── ᵎᵎ ✦ reqs #[sweating nervously] hello everyone . i t's a-me. kae

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cheolaholic · 2 days ago

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entangled hearts; jww & kmg

summary; you find yourself caught between Mingyu's bright smile and Wonwoo's knowing stare, it's an entangled mess. but what if there's enough room to love for three?

modern! au • university! au • fluff, angst, smut

pairing; jeon wonwoo x fem!reader x kim mingyu | wc; 16.1k | rating; 18+ explicit nsfw

contains; part-time model! reader, part-time model! mingyu, streamer! wonwoo, art major! mingyu, criminal psychology major! reader, psychology major! wonwoo, hoshi is reader’s cousin, woozi being woozi, friendship breakups, false rumours being spread abt reader, reader accidentally walking in on wonwoo’s stream, brief appearances of other svt members, takes place in the same au as ROL

mature/trigger warnings; poly relationship, dom! wonwoo, switch! mingyu, sub! reader, spitroasting, fingering, begging, oral (f&m receiving), womb stimulation (i think that’s the term), choking, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), multiple orgasms, creampies, praising, mentions of alcohol, some form of anxiety/panic attack, gaslighting/manipulation tactics

petnames; Wonwoo (Wonu) // Mingyu (Gyu) // hers (Princess, Kitten)

a/n; that’s right yall, it’s a wongyu fic 😋 remember the wongyu couple i teased and mentioned about in rol, well, here it is !! not beta read, we die like soldiers 🫡 this is my first time writing a threesome so i had to REALLY read through some other threesome fics & doujins for inspo/references. if any similarities are found, it is not my intent to copy or plagiarise them 🙏🏻

✨ support me by becoming a patreon (enjoy exclusive perks & content) OR tip me on kofi !! 💜 if you are unable to do so, you can also show support by reblogging your favourite works of mine !!

👾 join my general taglist here !!

“Excuse me?”

You turned, instinctively taking a step back while your friends quieted beside you. A woman – tall, confident – stood just outside the café entrance. A leather-bound portfolio tucked beneath one arm, her sunglasses pushed up into her hair.

“I’m sorry, cupcake, I don’t mean to interrupt,” she said, her smile warm but calculated, “but have you ever considered modeling?”

Your friends exchanged surprised glances, and you blinked at her, unsure if she was serious or if you were about to have your organs harvested and sold on the black market.

The woman’s gaze swept over you again, this time more admiring than analytical. “I have an eye for these things, cupcake, and you have it. You have a presence, a posture, even the way you carry that outfit. It’s simple, yet very editorial.” She gestures lightly at your clothes, causing you to glance down at the outfit you’d thrown together.

“That skirt with that jacket? Effortless. You know what you’re doing, even if you don’t realise it yet.”

You felt your cheeks warm, fingers curling slightly around your cup of iced coffee.

“I’m a talent scout,” she adds, flipping her portfolio and pulling out a sleek business card, offering it to you. “If you’re open to it, give me a call. I’d love to talk more.”

“Soonyoung–”

“Please, ___!” Your cousin pleads with you for the nth time that week, hands clasped dramatically in front of his chest. “You’re overwhelmed with studies and your modelling gig. You need a manager and I can totally do it!”

You raise your head and shoot him a skeptical look from over your laptop. “Since when do you know anything about being a manager?”

“I Googled it,” he says, expression dead serious. “And I’ve watched like… dozens of documentaries. Plus, I already help you with blocking out your schedule half the time anyway. Remember that shoot you had last week? Who reminded you to bring backup heels?”

You sigh, knowing Soonyoung was right. He was there when that talent scout spotted you outside the cade; and your life had shifted in ways you’ve never imagined. Castigns, fittings, shoots, and runway preps… It was a lot to balance on top of your academics.

“Just imagine, cuz,” he continues, hands in the air like he’s pitching to a boardroom. “You walk on the runway all calm and collected while I deal with scheduling nightmares and last-minute fittings. You won’t even have to look at an email unless it’s good news!”

“No offense, Soonyoung, but I put more trust in Jeonghan. At least he’s close with Joshua, and Shua knows Jihoon.”

Soonyoung gasps, dramatically placing a hand over his chest like you’d just told him the tiger in his living room wasn’t his son, and instead a taxidermy. “Excuse me!? Both of us quite literally grew up with Jihoon! I even performed with him!”

You raised a brow, “You mean that HxW stage you both put together during the uni fest?”

“Yes! You know how rare it is to perform with the Lee Jihoon?”

“You and Jidae screamed into the mic, and Jihoon looked like he’s one second away from whooping your ass for your Horanghae agenda.”

“He still stayed, though. That is what you call art.”

You stare. “You almost flicked his forehead and I saw your life flash before your eyes.”

He huffs. “Art is messy, ___. But Jihoon and I? We had chemistry, you can’t deny that. He called me ‘not terrible’ after so that definitely means something.”

“Heard Soonyoung appointed himself as your manager.”

You glanced up from your notes, blinking as Jihoon slid into the seat across from you like he hadn’t just dropped the biggest statement like it was small talk. You’re tucked away into your usual corner of the library – headphones halfway in, highlighter stopping mid-way from making contact with your notes.

“He what?” You asked, sliding off your headphones and letting them rest around your shoulders, padded cups pressing lightly against your collarbones.

Jihoon shrugs, resting his arms on the table. “He’s been sending me business emails using an address that ends in horanghae101.”

You groaned, dragging a hand down your face. “I’m gonna fucking kill him.”

He cracked the smallest hint of a smile. “He’s oddly persistent. But surprisingly organised.”

“That’s what makes it worse,” you muttered, before narrowing your eyes. “Wait. Why do you know that..?”

“Because the signature he used was Executive Brand Director & Emotional Support to ___.”

You slowly shake your head, “No… You’re lying.” Jihoon simply turned his tablet around, and there it was – screenshot and all.

“Holy fucking shit,” you whispered.

“But,” he said, tone shifting just a little. “His chaos aside, I actually came to talk to you about something else. A little more serious, if you will.”

You raise a brow, straightening in your seat as he pushes the tablet toward you. “Because you set me as your reference in the forms when you signed under Semicolon, and before Soonyoung self-appointed himself as your manager, I was the one getting most of your gig offers.”

“There’s this Dior campaign. Couple’s concept and minimalist luxury. It’s an editorial-style shoot with subtle intimacy. They saw your Vanguard test shots and flagged you immediately.”

You blinked, “Me..?”

“You.”

Tilting your head to the side, your brows knit together, “I’m just doing modeling as a part-time thing, though… Or freelance, as some of them call it. Why me? Why not those full-timers?”

Jihoon gestures to you, “Because you’re… you. I don’t know how to say it, but best way I can put it is you don’t try too hard, y’know? You’re natural. Authentic. Something all these big brands are desperately chasing for ever since authenticity became ‘trendy’. They want someone who doesn’t look like they’re trying to be iconic, but somehow is.”

You stared at him. Jihoon doesn’t usually hand out compliments, that’s something you learnt in the many years you’ve spent growing up with him and Soonyoung. But, when he does, though not straightforward, they carry weight. Subtle and rare – paired with his own natural talent and how he’s already made a name for himself as a producer – it means something.

Jihoon never says things just to be nice – never sugar coating or entertaining the idea of false praises.

And everyone in the entertainment industry knows it.

So if he thinks you’re a right fit, it’s not just flattery.

“...And the other half of this couple’s concept?”

He non-chalantly replies, “Mingyu.”

Your jaw drops. “Mingyu? As in Kim Mingyu? Pledis’ talented art major?”

“Giant. Heartthrob and walking cologne commercial?” Jihoon adds on before nodding, “The very same one. Let’s just say that Dior is looking for chemistry, some kind of beauty and the brain vibe.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Brains? Mingyu? I once saw this man run into a glass door.”

The young producer snorts back a laugh, clearing his throat while he pulls up the pitch deck for the shoot and showing it to you. “Hey, it could be the other way around. Point is, they think you and that giant could balance each other. Visually and energy-wise.”

You take a look at the pitch – mock-ups of the set, mood boards, wardrobe swatches.

Everything looked impossibly real.

“You interested?”

You glanced back at Jihoon, mind still processing the news. “Can Soonyoung come if I say yes?”

Jihoon laughs, reaching out to show you a separate screen. “He’s already trying to print name cards.”

The soft hum of the engine shifts as the plane starts to descend. Through the oval window, the clouds are scattered like pulled cotton, revealing a quilt of lights stitched into the city below. You lean your head against the frame, the glass cool against your skin.

“Soonyoung,” your voice was barely louder than the thrum beneath your seat, but you know he’s listening. “Do you think people assume I’m not that good of a person because I’m in this whole… modeling thing?”

You don’t look at him, but you feel the slight shift in his posture. You can tell he’s frowning just from his voice, “Is this because of the fall out you had with Haemin and the rest?”

You nod faintly, still watching the night view of the city from the plane.

“She said I’ve changed,” you reply. “That ever since I signed with the agency and gone freelance, I’ve been… different. Distant. That all I talk about besides my studies were castings or editorials.”

You pause, “She said I don’t like myself anymore.”

Soonyoung is quiet, but you can tell the new information upsets him. He knew about the fall-out you had with your friend group, but he never knew the exact reason until now. His jaw tightens – he always hates it when people put you down or your self-doubt gets the best of you.

You had potential.

He knows and sees it.

“If she can’t be happy that you’re making a name for yourself,” he starts, voice low but firm, “and she’s saying all these things to make her look like a better person… is she really a friend?”

The edge in his voice takes you by surprise..

“The same goes for the rest of them,” he adds. “They were so quick to side with Haemin without even hearing you out. That’s not what friends do, ___. You know that.”

You turn your head towards him slowly. You know he’s not angry, just tired of watching you carry guilt that was never yours to begin with.

“I don’t… I don’t think they meant to hurt me…” you murmur quietly.

Your cousin shakes his head, “No, but they did. And yea, maybe they didn’t mean to. But they chose to listen to just one side of the story. It was easier for them to pick a side than sitting in the middle, trying to understand the whole picture. That tells you what kind of person they are, ___.”

The plane dips again, wheels lowering beneath the roar of wind and drag. The seatbelt sign dings softly above as it lights up.

You slump into the chair a little, “It just… It just sucks,” you whisper. “To feel like I’m losing people just because I’m doing what I love or doing good in something I wasn’t expecting to.”

Soonyoung gives your knee a reassuring squeeze, his voice softer now. “You didn’t lose them, okay? They let go of you. There’s a difference.”

You don’t say anything. The runway lights rise to meet the plane, and the wheels touch down with a jolt – screeching, then slowing as gravity catches up. Soonyoung doesn’t take his eyes off you, not even as the cabin fills with sounds of buckles clicking, phones buzzing back to life and the polite announcements in two languages.

“You’re not a bad person, ___,” he says simply. “You’re just growing. And it’s okay if not everyone keeps up.”

DIOR: L’Instant à Deux

You barely have time to take in the studio before the director drags Soonyoung to the side to discuss the details of the shoot while a stylist guides you past racks of garments and light fixtures that hum softly. Heels click over concrete – the set smells like linen, coffee and something that you assume to be either jasmine or orange blossom.

It smells like there’s a small promise floating in the air.

“Hi, Kwon ___, right?” a staff member asks with a smile. She’s dressed in head-to-toe black, with a headset slung around her neck with a tiny Dior pin glinting on her collar.

“That’s me,” you respond with an equally warming smile.

“You’re early for call time,” she chuckles, flipping through the printed shoot-sheet in hand. “But, that’s a good thing! Gives us a little breathing room before we get started.”

“Yeah, our family has this whole ‘arrive earlier than stated’ in our blood,” you joked, fingers brushing your coat lapels while you try not to look as jittery as you feel. You glance over at the set – and it was breathtaking as hell.

Like the inside of a Parisian style apartment that’s been plucked from a property magazine. Ivory curtains billow in the breeze of a hidden fan, and there’s a table on the side that's been set for two, the candle just waiting to be lit.

Everything is so carefully curated, yet somehow there’s a romantic feel in its stillness.

“So, welcome to L’Instant à Deux, officially.” She gives you a brief wink before continuing, “The theme is modern intimacy. Not the ‘fire that burns the brightest also goes out the fastest’ kind. Think quiet moments between two people in love. The synergy and chemistry is just there. NO words are exchanged, but one look and you know exactly what the other needs.”

“Dior made it very clear that they want connection. Eye contact. A kind of vibe that makes people believe you’ve known each other for years.”

You hum in understanding, already understanding the picture she’s painting out.

“After this short briefing, they’ll start styling you for the first set. It’ll be a morning shot so you’ll be dressed in soft neutrals and satin, like you just woke up in love in the penthouse. Then we’ll transition to more tailored looks in the afternoon.”

“Any night shoots that need to be done?”

She raises an eyebrow, as though asking if you had any plans later that night. “Oh, I don’t have anything going on. Just curious if you guys planned some kind of ‘night in the romantic city’ kind of shoot.”

She thinks about it, “We didn’t… But, I like the sound of that. Let me ask the director and Mingyu’s manager if they’re up for the idea!” She then glances at her watch, “Oh, and yes, Mingyu’s already here. He’s being fitted right now, so you’ll see him on set soon enough.”

Your breath catches just slightly, but you try to play it cool. “He’s taller in person,” the staff casually adds as she walks away, grinning. “And hella charming. You’ll need a lot of luck surviving that.”

You laugh softly to yourself, staring down at the subtle embroidery on the hem of a dress that’s been draped over the rack.

‘Lots of luck indeed…’

“Talent on set!”

You’re ushered out of wardrobe as the soft thud of the shutter click is tested in the background. Your bare feet sink into the plush carpet of the set – a cozy, soft-sunlight bedroom scene complete with cream sheets, books scattered around, and a half-drunk (or at least it looked like someone drank it) glass of water sat on the nightstand.

Everything looked lived in.

Intimate.

Like a Sunday morning you never want to end.

Then you hear a low laugh.

You turn, and sitting on the edge of the bed was Kim Mingyu. The photographer probably said something funny with how he threw his head back. One hand loosely resting on his thigh, the other pushing his hair back in a way that’s so effortlessly charming that you aren’t sure if it was muscle memory or instinct.

As if sensing you, he looks up. And when his gaze meets yours, he stands.

“Hey, took you long enough,” he teases, walking over with a slow yet confident stride that only someone like him could do. “I was starting to think they paired me with a ghost and that this was an early Halloween shoot.”

You managed a smile, extending your hand. “Would’ve made your job easier, though.”

He chuckles, taking your hand in his to give it a shake. His palm feels warm, his grip firm – but not overbearing, or as though he was trying to size you up.

“Mingyu.”

“___.”

He repeats your name, like he’s trying it on for size. But the way each syllable rolls off his tongue feels almost too intimate for a first meeting, like he wants to memorise it.

“Alright, let’s get into position!” the photographer calls.

You’re guided towards the bed, the director explaining the scene as she walks with you. “It’s a gentle start. You just woke up, morning light, lazy touches, soft smiles… Like it’s the kind of love that has you falling even more, understood?”

You and the giant settle in under the covers, shoulders brushing as the makeup artist gives Mingyu’s look some final touch ups. He leans over to you and whispers, “Is this weird? Lying in bed together before we even had coffee?”

You laugh, the sound surprising even you with how natural it felt. “Maybe a little.”

His canines show as he grins, eye crinkling, “Well, guess we’ll just have to make it look like we’ve done this a hundred times.”

“And it’s a wrap!” the director calls out, voice tinged with exhaustion but pride. “Thank you everyone!”

You let out a quiet breath, somewhere between relief and exhaustion. Your cheeks still carry traces of highlighter, your body humming from hours of adjusting, holding and smiling.

“Here.” Mingyu holds out a bottle of water, already uncapped, like he somehow knew you wouldn’t have the energy to do it yourself.

“Thanks…”

Mingyu rolls his shoulders with a sigh, “Think my back is permanently imprinted with the Dior headboard.”

“I think your collarbone probably has its own Instagram account by now,” you joke.

He snorts, “Please, I’ve seen someone use mingyusleftasscheek as their username.”

You laugh again, but softer this time. It lingers in the air – comfortable and familiar.

“Heard from your cousin, well, manager; that this is your first big gig,” he starts, “You did really well today.”

“Thanks,” you reply, voice a little softer now. “So were you.”

He leans a little closer, like he’s about to whisper a secret. “I’m not gonna lie, I thought it’d be awkward. Like forced smiles, hands in weird places…”

You hum in agreement and he continues, “But with you, it didn’t feel that way.”

Your heart stutters, but not in a bad way. You look back towards the set where hours ago, you had to pretend to wake up in bed beside him, to fall in love in the busy streets and champagne toasts.

“Same,” you admit, eyes returning to him. “Didn’t feel too fake.”

“Guys,” one of the staff calls out, “Wrap up dinner, let’s go! Director said it’s on him!”

You and Mingyu chuckle. He stands first, brushing his hands on his jeans. “Guess that’s our cue.”

You stand after him seconds later, pulling at the sleeves of the sweater Dior insisted you bring back as a souvenir. Part of you already misses the quiet bubble you’d been sitting in with him. He slings his jacket over one shoulder, eyes flicking to you with casual ease but it doesn’t hide the spark beneath it, “You coming?”

You nod, walking beside him as you both walk towards the rest of the crew.

gyu 🐶: heyyyy gyu 🐶: here’s my personal number ;)) gyu 🐶: i got yours from your manager gyu 🐶: hope you’re cool with it !! gyu 🐶: this is easier for less business talk gyu 🐶: and i kinda wanna talk to you more aside from gigs whatnot gyu 🐶: as in i wanna know you more as a person gyu 🐶: like genuinely

It’s strange when you think back to that first shoot you had with Mingyu.

You still remember how he looked like he was trying to memorise everything about you in one blink. How neither of you really knew each other, yet somehow managed to make it look like you’ve shared Sunday mornings for years.

That was a year ago.

Now?

Now, it’s nothing to see his name lighting up on your phone late one night because he found a ridiculous meme. Or for you to text him if he could be a subject for your practical.

The campaign ended, but a friendship began in its place.

So now, you’re here – pressed into the corner booth of an 80s themed diner with Mingyu sitting beside you, shoulders brushing yours every time he shifts his weight. Sitting across from you were two of his closest friends – Seungcheol and Vernon.

“Seungcheol’s hyung is the oldest of us, natural leader. He’s taken so if you’re thinking of hitting him up, may as well abandon ship. He’s crazy loyal for his pup.”

You raise a brow, “Pup? You call your girl ‘pup’?”

The blonde man shrugs with a grin, “It’s a nickname I gave her since we were kids. Kinda stuck and never left.”

You nod, “With that kind of context, lowkey cute.”

“Vernon, or Hansol, is the youngest. He’s either about to say something philosophical… or the most cursed shit you’ve ever heard. There is no in-between when it comes to this man.”

Seungcheol takes a sip of his milkshake, “So this is the Dior Princess, huh? Mingyu talked about you a lot.”

After the campaign had gone viral, the internet was quick to dub the two of you Dior’s Prince and Princess. The nickname stuck and it didn’t help that the behind-the-scenes footage captured stolen glances and quiet laughter that fans clung to like gospel.

From the photos plastered on billboards, magazines; to fanedits that circled the web, it was clear that the chemistry between you two was almost impossible to ignore.

You glanced at Mingyu who takes a bite out of his fries like it’s suddenly the most fascinating he’e ever seen and tasted.

“He did, huh?”

Vernon snorts, “Not in a weird way. Mostly in an admirable way since he kept repeating how natural it felt. Which reminds me of the time he fell asleep mid-study and woke up reciting a skincare ad.”

Mingyu groans, “Please, stop reminding me of that.”

Halfway through eating your mac-n-cheese, Vernon pops another question, “Is Wonwoo not coming?”

Seungcheol shakes his head. “Midterms are coming up. He’s probably in the library going through his notes.”

The giant next to you snorts, “No joke. I called him earlier to ask if he’s coming. Bro picked up just to say, ‘I’m busy with midterms’ and hung up.”

“Wait,” you pause, glancing up when Seungcheol mentioned Wonwoo’s midterm prep like he’s mapping out a whole war strategy on the fire nation. “Is Wonwoo a psych major?”

A look of surprise crosses their face, “Yeah, he is. Why?”

You shrug casually, “Ah, then that means he’s prepping for the same midterm I have next week.”

Vernon leans forward, his curiosity piqued. “You’re in psych?”

You smiled, “Criminal psych to be specific.”

Mingyu’s head almost snapped with how quick he turned it, “Wait, seriously?"

“I know it’s not exactly a major people expect for someone who spends half their time in front of a camera, but–”

“Oh no, no, no,” Vernon intervenes, “It’s hella cool, actually. Fits you too.”

You blink, tilting your head to the side, “Fits me?”

“Yea. You observe, ask questions at the right time. You listen more than you talk that it makes people think you’re just nodding along.”

There’s a brief moment of silence.

“Well, Vernon, remind me to psychoanalyze you later. Strictly for academic purposes, of course.”

Vernon grins. “Can’t wait to be a case study or thesis paper.”

Seungcheol groans, “Don’t give her ideas of us being test subjects, please.”

“Too late!”

The campus library is unusually crowded for a weekday afternoon, almost every table claimed by open laptops, notes, and the quiet hum of caffeine-fueled panic. Finals week always brought the worst out of everyone.

You hold your drink in one hand, your laptop tucked under your arm as you scan the library for an empty table. A small corner table clears up for you, the students packing up their things and you quickly slip into it, relieved to finally be off your feet.

Then you see him.

Head down, headphones on, walking with that unreadable expression he always had, making it almost impossible to tell whether he’s in a good mood, a bad mood, or just deep in thought. He had a thick folder tucked under an arm, dressed plainly with his glasses perched on his nose bridge.

Jeon Wonwoo.

You don’t move – not because you don’t want to, but because you can’t.

You half expected him to recognise you or notice you – either because you shared some classes or because Mingyu had introduced you a few days ago when you were visiting their apartment.

But it never came.

He walks right past your table like you don’t exist.

No sneaking glances, no hesitation whether or not he should greet you.

Nothing.

And then you hear them.

Seated just a little further behind you was your old friend group – laughing and whispering. You can’t hear what they say, but the assumption has begun to build. Maybe Wonwoo did see you, but he’s been told to ignore you. Your fingers tighten around your cup and you glance down at your notes, trying to refocus; but your mind’s already spiraling.

They definitely said something. Maybe it wasn’t straight to the point, but it could be subtle – just enough to plant a seed of doubt.

“Don’t bother with her, she’s not who she makes herself out to be.”

“She’ll make you look bad.”

“She always plays the victim. Like she wasn’t the one who started everything.”

You exhale through your nose, trying to shake out the bad memories before then forcing yourself to flip through your midterm review.

‘If Wonwoo believed whatever he heard, that’s on him,’ you tell yourself.

But still.

Part of you was disappointed because you thought that maybe he’d known they’d be lying. He’s a psych major after all.

Then again, it was Wonwoo’s decision to believe what he wants.

You sat on the floor of Mingyu’s room, your knees pulled to your chest while he leaned against his bed, watching you with quiet concern. He passes you a bottle of water, “What’s bothering you, princess?”

You peeped at him, “Princess?”

He grins, his canines showing whenever he does. “Yeah. That’s what I’m calling you from now on, Princess.”

You give him a look, and he just chuckles, nudging the bottle closer to you. “Come one, you’ve been dubbed Dior’s Princess ever since that shoot with me.” Your lips curved slightly, but the weight in your chest didn’t lift completely and he noticed; his voice softening again, “So, what’s actually bothering you?”

“Wonwoo…” you murmured, fingers twisting the cap of the bottle. Mingyu’s expression flickered, but he didn't say anything. “He… I guess he was kinda nice when we first met..? But lately… He’s been distant… Sometimes he just walks by me like I wasn’t even there.”

You hesitated, then added quietly, “I… I think maybe he’s heard some gossip or rumours about and because of that, he’s not acknowledging me…”

Mingyu’s jaw clenches and for a brief second, he looks away. When he turns back, his eyes are a little darker – not of anger, but there’s definitely conflict in them. “Wonwoo isn’t the kind of guy to believe rumours blindly,” he finally says, voice low. “He’s careful, guarded. But not unfair. Plus, he’s a psych major; you of all people know psych majors don’t take words at face value.”

You stared at him.

He gives a small smile. “Plus, you said it yourself last time. If you want to know what’s going on, you’re gonna have to ask or talk to the person.”

You chewed your lip, still unsure. Mingyu continues, “Wonwoo is always rational. Sure, he malds over his games, but he won’t let some rumours cloud his judgment of a person.”

He leans in just slightly, a teasing grin on his lips that doesn’t quite reach his eyes. “Unless you’d rather stay here with me instead.”

You blinked and he laughed, “I’m kidding, Princess. Well, kind of.”

“You’re impossible, Gyu…” you mutter, half-exasperated, half-flustered.

“Hey, I’m honest.”

And that was true.

You sighed and stood, nerves coiling in your stomach. “Okay. I’ll go talk to him.”

The Dior Prince doesn’t follow you, but you could feel the way his gaze lingered until you disappeared out his door.

You paced outside Wonwoo’s room longer than you should have, your nerves going haywire.

The door was cracked open just enough for you to hear the low murmur of his voice.

“...no, chat, I’m not going to get Princess back on stream just so you can be down bad for her. One, Coups would behead me and two, he’ll either ban you or put you in time out.”

You blinked.

Chat?

You pushed the door open just a little, just to peek a bit more – and sure enough, there he was. Seated comfortably in his gaming chair, headset on, the glow of the LED strip lights casting his room in a red hue. His voice sounded deeper; he sounded more focused, sarcastic, teasing.

It takes a minute for you to register.

Wonwoo was streaming.

Live.

You carefully stepped inside just as he leaned back slightly and stretched. You then noticed how massive his audience was when you saw the chaos flooding his vertical monitor. Then, his viewers noticed you in the frame.

uriboobear: no fucking way uriboobear: THE DIOR PRINCESS???? woozi_factory: gurl wtf are you doing there woozi_factory: are you banging him and the color blind model horanghae_kwon: wts horanghae_kwon: i feel so betrayed rn iamadino: what the fuck iamadino: dior princess sighting iamadino: #holyfuckingairball iamadino: SOMEONE CLIP QUICK 📎 cheolcoups clipped your stream! — Dior Princess Sighting [View Clip] hannieangel: thanks coups cheolcoups: np

Wonwoo froze, then very slowly turned to look over his shoulder.

Sure enough, you stood next to his door looking like an absolute deer-in-headlights. Your voice was soft, but the mic picked it up, “Hi…”

His chat exploded.

junmoonhui: BROOO I THOUGHT IT WAS AI junmoonhui: UR TELLING ME SHE’S REAL junmoonhui: AND IN HIS ROOM????? the1&only8: okay damn the1&only8: do yall live together or banging hannieangel: and the way he turned lmfaoooo hannieangel: also drop the game bro hannieangel: drop dead gorgeous just walked in like a cutscene

The streamer blinked, then quickly muted his mic and lifted his headset off. “Everything okay?” he asked, voice softer than the one his chat had been watching seconds ago. You nodded, awkwardly stepping in further. “I-I’m sorry. I didn’t know you were a streamer and going live. I wanted to talk to you about something but I– I can come back another–”

Wonwoo stood up immediately. “No. It’s okay, we can talk.”

And his chat went feral.

horanghae_kwon: holy shit horanghae_kwon: bro stood up so fast iamadino: that ain’t a friend stand up yall iamadino: that’s a mfcking lover stand up the1&only8: and they way he looked at her???? the1&only8: jun hold my hair im abt to throw up junmoonhui: you have a mullet hao the1&only8: sybau n play along

Wonwoo reached over and without hesitation – ended his stream. No sign-off. No raid.

Just black screen.

Silence followed after for a few seconds.

“You didn’t need to–”

“If you came here, ___, it means you came to talk to me about something.” He turns to look at you fully, “And I’m assuming it’s something important with how much you’re shaking.”

You awkwardly sat on the edge of his bed, fingers fidgeting in your lap. Wonwoo dropped his headset on the desk and pulled his gaming chair closer – close enough to talk, but far enough for the space to feel cautious.

“Why have you been treating me like I don’t exist?”

He doesn’t respond right away, but you notice the way his fingers flexed against the arm of the chair.

You take a breath, “I mean, I know we don’t know each other that well, but since we’re friends with Mingyu, I thought we’d at least… y’know… be somewhat friends too… But, you always just… treat me like I’m air and–”

“Whoa, easy there, ___,” he cuts in, “Why don’t you breathe in for me first?”

You blink, cough off guard by the interruption. His voice isn’t cold. If anything, it was calm and steady, like he’s trying to anchor you. You do as told and he scoots a little closer, “Good girl.”

“Now out.”

He waits, eyes not leaving yours. “Again.”

You follow, heart still pounding in your chest, but the air starts to flow a little easier.

Wonwoo sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, I didn’t mean to make you feel like you’re transparent. It’s clear I’m not great at this whole… social thing.” He glances over your shoulder, then back at you. “But, I do see you, ___. It’s hard to not notice you when you’re in my class while also being plastered all over magazines and editorials.”

His voice drops just a little, almost too soft to catch. “That’s the problem.”

You blinked. “What?”

“Mingyu,” he starts, leaning back with his hands loosely capped between his knees as he exhales. “There’s no easy way to sugar coat this so I’ll just come right out with it. Gyu and I… we’ve always shared the girls we’re ‘seeing’ or at least somewhat into. It could be some model chick he’s met, some girl we met at a bar or club… It was easy because things were always just physical between us. Nothing that stuck. No jealousy or complications.”

“What does that have anything to do with me? With why you’re–”

“It has everything to do with you, ___.” Wonwoo sighs, “Gyu’s been talking about you like you’re more than just another girl. Like he’s not just wanting to get up your skirt and make it a one time thing, y’know?”

You swallowed, “And you think that means I’m off-limits? Even if it’s a simple friendship?”

Wonwoo shrugged, “Things between Gyu and I… At least in a scenario like this where he looks at you like he means it, like it’s not just fun – like he’d actually stay. If he wants to be serious with you, I figured I need to respect it. That’s all.”

“But–”

“I’m sorry if my behaviour or actions made it seem like I’m ignoring you on purpose, ___. But, I promise I didn’t mean for it to come out like that. I didn’t want to be in Gyu’s way of finally having an actual connection or relationship with someone. And since he wasn’t exactly subtle about his feelings with you, I shouldn’t be pretending to not notice it. So… I kept my distance.”

The quiet settled again.

You didn’t know what to say after that.

And neither did he.

The silence that settled between you wasn’t cold, but not exactly comfortable either. It was just there.

Until you asked, “Would you trust me if people told you rumours or gossip about me?”

“C’mon, ___,” he chuckles, “This is me we’re talking about. You really think I’ll believe the words of a stranger over a person’s actual personality?”

He’s got you there.

Then, he moved.

He leaned in, almost cautiously, like he didn’t know what he was doing either. And then, in a very uncharacteristic gentle manner, press a kiss to your forehead.

You both froze and the moment lingered; warm skin against skin, his breath brushing your hairline, and something unspoken seeping into the silence. When he finally pulled back, his expression was unreadable. You probably mirrored it.

“What… What was that..?” you asked softly.

He didn’t answer right away. As though he was still processing his actions.

“Just a habit of mine,” he replied.

Liar.

But you didn’t press, and neither of you said anything more about it.

When you stood to leave, your chest felt just a little tighter. Like something had settled into place, but neither of you had the words for it yet.

And when the door clicked shut behind you once you left, Wonwoo still stood there…. Thumb brushing across his lower lip.

Wondering why it felt right.

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone’s in the loop! Student-run.

📌 IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS & UPDATES

Club & Societies Fair moved to Next Weds, 3PM @ Main Quad

Prof. Hakyeon’s Thurs 9AM Lecture: Cancelled (Replacement Class to be Announced Soon)

Lost Airpods in Stitch Casing in Library! Approach Lost & Found to claim.

🧠 NEED TO KNOW

Next Sem Schedule Drop: 7th Jul 20XX

New study area opened in East Wing – fully air-conditioned too!

👀 GOSSIP BOARD

💬 anon: anybody else noticed the Dior Princess on Wonwoo’s stream? Are the banging eo or like, it’s a three-way thing between him & the roommate?

anon1: nah like i wanna know too anon1: also did yall see the way he looked at her? anon2: bffr he looked so in love anon3: frrrrr anon3: like damn, i wished someone looked at me like that too anon2: if she banging them both anon2: she hit the jackpot frfr anon4: nah anon2 anon4: if she’s dating them both anon4: that’s the jackpot

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone’s in the loop! Student-run.

📌 IMPORTANT ANNOUNCEMENTS & UPDATES

Pledis Fall Party @ NU’EST

Hey boys and girls + non-binary peeps! To celebrate the start of the new fall semester, NU’EST has announced that everyone is invited to their upcoming frat party!

📍 Venue: NU’EST Frat House (right behind North Quad)

📆 Date & Time: This Friday, 8PM till late

🪩 Theme: 70s Disco

🍻 Live DJ sets, drink specials, real food & surprise performances. Come for the drinks, stay for the vibes. You might leave with a few numbers or with someone. wink-wonk.

📮 This party is an open invite, all students are welcomed! (Queer friendly, no cover, no drama!)

Got questions? Hit up @renminki.NU or check the pinned IG post on @HouseOfNu

Let’s make it a night you won’t ever forget… or only half remember 😉

The party was loud.

Lights dim and pulsing, music vibrating through the floor and through your ribs; clusters of people scattered across the living room and onto the balcony. Voices rose and fell like waves of static in your ears, laughter echoed – and somewhere in the house, someone was already tipsy enough to dance on a coffee table (yes, it was Soonyoung).

These kinds of parties were never your cup of tea. Contrary to popular belief, you were a homebody – you preferred the comfort and quietness of your studio compared to the thrum of bass-heavy music and bodies pressed up against each other in a sweaty, alcohol-fueled haze.

But Jihoon had insisted that it would be a ‘low-pressure’ thing, that he’d stick by your side the entire night (until Joshua or Jisoo swooped in and took him off to discuss something about an upcoming Open Mic). Soonyoung had also texted you five separate times the second the announcement rolled out.

tiger couz 🐯: pleaseee tiger couz 🐯: just come hang with us tiger couz 🐯: it’ll be fun! tiger couz 🐯: just drinks n dancing tiger couz 🐯: no drama, promise

You didn’t have much of a choice since they both self-invited themselves into your place hours before the party, and your cousin practically shoved you into a pink glittery mini dress with flared sleeves and matching headband.

They meant well. They always have, even when you were kids. Which is what you love about the two dorks even though there were times you’d want to strangle them for their dumb ideas.

The hours were closing in to 10PM, and so far you were fine.

Until you saw him.

Wonwoo.

He’s leaning against the balcony railing, drink in hand, dressed in all black, expression unreadable… then his eyes found yours. And just from his gaze alone, your stomach dropped because you knew something was wrong.

He pushed off the railing and strode towards you, each step purposeful. His mouth was set in a firm line, eyes locked on yours. “Can I talk to you?”

Your heart rate picked up, but you nodded.

Wonwoo leads you to an empty guest room, door slightly ajar behind you – the room was still dim, still loud; but it was removed just enough that his words could be heard.

“I ran into someone earlier,” he starts, voice low, almost careful – but still tight. “Her name was Haemin. Said she used to be a friend of yours.”

Your breath caught and you stared at him, frozen.

“She… She said you aren’t who you make yourself out to be. That you ruined someone’s reputation, twisted the story to turn everyone against her and–”

“Do you believe them?”

“I didn’t want to,” he said. “I still don’t. But the way she said in such a confident manner, how you seemed on edge whenever someone said they’ve heard things about you… It made me wonder…”

He trailed off.

Your throat closed. “You… You think I’m playing the victim?”

His expression cracked just a fraction. “I don’t want to believe that, ___. But, I need you to help me understand all this–”

“You think I haven’t tried that, Wonwoo?” you snapped, voice rising before it cracked. “You have no idea what it felt like. To lose everyone. To have your name turned into a warning. To try and clear my name, but nobody would listen. And now, you’re asking me if I was the villain because of some hearsay?”

You hate how you’re being interrogated like you were in the wrong. You’ve tried to prove those rumours wrong, but nobody was willing to listen. Whenever you tried to explain, all you got were dismissive;

“It’s true, though… You’re a model…”

“You’re a psych major. Who’s to say you’re not psyching us?”

He blinked.

Then it hit you – the tears threatening behind your eyes, the voices blurring and the walls of the room slowly tilting.

It was all too much.

“I need to go,” you whispered, already turning.

“Wait–”

But you were already walking.

You pushed through the crowd, heart hammering and no seeing faces, just shapes and shadows. You weren’t sure if you were angry, scared or just done with the feeling of always having to defend yourself. You barely made it past the hallway when a hand caught your wrist, their grip firm but gentle.

“Hey.”

Mingyu.

You turned.

He looked worried, conflicted even. “You okay?” he asked gently, “Did Wonwoo say something to you?”

You blink fast to clear your vision, “Gyu, not now–”

You want to brush it off, to escape, but then the giant puppy steps closer. “I saw him kiss your forehead the other night.”

You froze.

Mingyu’s hand dropped slowly from your wrist, like he’d just realised how much you were shaking. He continued, his voice steady despite the conflicted undertone. “Wonwoo… Look, I’ve known him for years and he doesn’t do that. Ever. Not with anyone. Not unless it means something.”

You swallowed thickly, “Mingyu, now isn’t–”

He shakes his head, “No, please, ___, just hear me out. I’ve known him for years and I know that was far from casual. And… And I see the way he looks at you. Even if he’s too scared to admit it, I know he felt something.”

Your eyes were wide when you looked up at him.

“And I did too.”

Your breath caught in your throat.

“I’m not saying this to make things harder, but I need you to know that I like you. I have for a while now. A-And I can’t keep pretending that I don’t have these feelings for you. If Wonwoo is too much of a pussy to face his feelings, I’m not.”

The words hit harder than they should have. Your thoughts start to spin like they’d all slammed into each other at once – maybe because the room felt too small. Maybe because you were already on the edge.

You blinked rapidly, the sting behind your eyes too much to swallow.

The party around you was getting too loud. Too bright.

Soonyoung and Jihoon were nowhere in sight.

Wonwoo’s confrontation.

Mingyu’s confession.

“I… I can’t,” you choked out. “I need to go…”

You stepped back and before Mingyu could say another word, you slipped past him; away from the noise, from the crowd – away from both of them.

The shared apartment was strangely silent, save for the soft hum for the air conditioners and the occasional clink of the ice melting in the glass beside him.

He’s sat at his desk, not streaming, editing, gaming and not even trying to be productive. His fingers hovered over the keyboard without purpose, his monitor dimming on its own as if recognising the stillness.

He wasn’t sure when these feelings had started.

It wasn’t at the party, that much he was sure of.

How could he when you looked like that under the strobing lights? The way your voice cracked when you asked if he thought that you were the villain. Not even when the sting of guilt clung to him as he watched you walk away.

No, it had to be way before that.

Maybe it was the first time you challenged him in class – voice soft, but your mind was most definitely sharp; sometimes making or asking statements that would make even the professor pause.

Maybe it was the time you fell asleep on the couch without realising it, laptop open, playlist still playing with one of your reports halfway done.

Or maybe it was the night you brought hot tea to Mingyu after he got sick after finals and casually handed him a cup too, telling him, “Don’t think I don’t know you were doing that sub-a-thon thing.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, drawing in a slow breath as he let his head fall against the headrest. He hadn’t realised he’d already started falling until it hurt to watch her walk away. This wasn’t your average crush that’s all fire and flash; it crept in quietly. Almost gentle.

This crush of his was something that’s always been there and it wasn’t until the weight of what if sat heavier than anything than they’d both said.

And maybe that’s why it sat like a stone on his chest.

Wonwoo isn’t someone who did feelings out loud. He doesn’t wear them on his sleeves, and doesn't spill them into crowded rooms.

He lets out a slow breath, finally moving his eyes away from the dark monitor, his gaze landing on his bed where he had pressed a kiss to your forehead weeks ago. You weren’t there, but the echo of your presence lingered in the air.

In the space he hadn’t realised he’s carved out.

Maybe he had been falling for you for a while – he just didn’t know how to land without breaking.

Wonwoo’s door swung open, though he didn’t turn around to look at the person who had the audacity to barge into his personal space.

He didn’t need to.

“What do you need, Mingyu?” He sighed.

Mingyu’s voice was flat, cutting – it was out of his character unless he’s pissed. “You talked to her. At the party.”

“So?”

“You asked her about her past, didn’t you?” He scoffs before continuing, “I thought you were better than this, hyung. You of all people know that you shouldn’t judge a person based on rumours or gossip. So, why the fuck were you–”

Wonwoo stood from his chair, the calm gone from his expression as he turned to look at the model. “Kim Mingyu, don’t come in here and like you’re some kind of moral compass.”

“Don’t fucking lecture me about crossing lines when you confessed to her and basically outed my feelings in the same breath.”

Mingyu frowns, “I didn’t out anything.”

“Really? You told her I kissed her like it meant something.”

“It did and you know it. You don’t just show affection or care like that to anyone, Woo.”

Silence.

“You used what I did, what I wasn’t ready to talk about; you still outed me. You don’t think that’ll push her further away?”

Mingyu blinked, the accusation finally sinking in – and it sank deeper than he expected. “I’m not trying to use it against you. I didn’t even mean to out you in a way that–”

“But you still did,” Wonwoo’s voice was quieter now. “Maybe not on purpose, but it still happened.”

The model looked away.

“You said yourself, Gyu,” the streamer muttered, “That kind of affection from me is rare.”

Mingyu’s voice softened, “Because I know how hard it is for you to show it, hyung.”

After a beat, he speaks again. “Maybe that’s why she ran… Because if it really meant something to you, to her – then you questioning her is basically saying it means nothing.”

Wonwoo closed his eyes, shoulder tense. And for the first time, his voice cracked just a bit. “The look she gave me… When I asked her about her past, when I asked her if the rumours were true… She looked at me like she was bracing herself for the world to fall apart again.”

Neither of them spoke after that.

They didn’t have to. Didn’t need to.

Because for once, they both understood one thing:

They were both falling.

And so was she.

DA BOIS 🍻

cheol: so uh cheol: anybody gonna tell me wtf is going on with woo n gyu cheol: cuz why the hell do yall look like you’re one wrong breath away cheol: from tearing out each other’s throat alien-non: girl problems tallgyu: how the fuck do you know that cheol: if you’re this pissy then it’s true cheol: jihoon mentioned his friend’s been shutting herself in for days with no contact cheol: that your girl? gameboi: that should be her gameboi: and hansol’s right gameboi: it’s a girl problem cheol: so basically cheol: us joking abt you two liking the same girl has manifested into an actual thing cheol: holy fuck alien-non: have you talked to her? gameboi: she’s ghosting everyone tallgyu: i asked her cousin tallgyu: said it’s smtg normal for her n she’ll come find us if she wants to talk cheol: so you’re giving her space rn gameboi: yea alien-non: cool alien-non: good luck tho cheol: and prayers cheol: yall defo gonna need it

Time’s passed by in a haze for you.

You hadn’t answered any messages.

Not Soonyoung’s, “You doing alright?”

Not Jihoon’s, “You alive bitch?”

You didn’t eat much, either – your appetite probably on a wanted post somewhere downtown.

You wanted to cry, but the tears never came. It just stayed stuck behind your eyes, heaving and aching. You had put your phone on DND before throwing it onto the coffee table, now it’s probably buried underneath the mass amounts of junk food and books.

Your studio was silent and you were about to resume whatever pity party that was going on until the lock clicked.

You froze, a blanket draped over your legs while you sat on the couch, wearing the same hoodie you’d cry into four nights ago. Familiar footsteps fill your studio – soft and confident that it announces who your visitors were.

“Couz, you still alive in here?”

You don’t move.

Seconds later, Jihoon’s head poked into the living room, followed by Soonyoung who was carrying a large takeout bag.

You cringed at how hoarse your voice sounded when you whispered, “You used the spare key.”

Jihoon shrugs, “You gave it to us.”

“In case of emergencies.”

Soonyoung snorts, “And you ghosting everyone, probably not eating properly for days isn’t an emergency? You went off the grid, ___.”

Jihoon sat next to you, “We got worried. Last time you went off the grid, you actually went mia for like, three months?”

“I’m fine,” you tried to assure them, but your voice cracked on the last word. Soonyoung sets the takeout bag on your kitchen counter. “Yea, sure. And I’m Jihoon’s assistant producer.”

The breath you huffed out might’ve been a laugh had it not felt like someone has a tight grip on your throat.

Jihoon doesn’t say anything – if anything, he’s just like Wonwoo, but just a little more expressive than the tall streamer. He rests an arm on the back of the couch and looks at you to make sure you weren’t going to lie to him.

“We’ve known you for years, ___,” he starts quietly. “Talk to us.”

“I messed everything up,” you murmured.

“No,” the blonde next to you was quick to interject, “You’re just a human with feelings.

Soonyoung walks up with a bottle of water in hand. “You always carry shit that’s not even your fault. You think the people who care about you won’t do anything about it, but we’ve always got your back.”

You took the bottle with shaking hands, pressing it to your lips as you downed at least half of it to distract yourself from the way your throat tightened as you’re reminded about how your cousin and childhood friend always got your back.

“Even if you shut down or disappear for a bit, we’re still going to show up.”

“You don’t need to explain everything right now,” Soonyoung adds. “Just let us stay the night and keep you company. You’re not alone, yea? You have us!”

For the first time in days, you felt relieved.

You nodded.

Without uttering another word, Jihoon reached over and tucked you into his side while Soonyoung reached for your remote, selecting a random movie like tonight was any other movie night.

Soonyoung cooked you a bowl of ramen, laying out the fried chicken and kimbap he had brought over onto the coffee table; even promising he won’t judge if you cried into it again.

Jihoon sat next to the furniture, poking through your neglected phone to clear the notifications that’s been piling up from the days you hadn’t touched it.

You slurped a bite in silence before speaking.

“He confessed.”

Soonyoung blinked, pausing his movements of taking a piece of kimbap. “Jihoon?”

Jihoon smacks his shoulder, “No, you idiot.”

“Mingyu,” you clarified, staring down at the bowl of ramen soup in your hands. “He… He came up to me at the party and said he liked me.”

Soonyoung’s jaw dropped, the kimbap half-chewed in his mouth and Jihoon had to shut it for him.

“He said… He said he saw Wonwoo kiss my forehead that night. Said he knew it meant something because Wonwoo doesn’t just… do things like that. Not with anyone and… Mingyu said there has to be something going on between us.”

Jihoon’s brows lifted just a little, “What did you say?”

“I… I didn’t say anything. I just left.”

Soonyoung winced, “Yikes. Must’ve hit him hard.”

You shrugged as Jihoon took the bowl of soup away from you. “I dunno… Wonwoo… Wonwoo came to talk to me before Mingyu confessed. He…” Your voice dropped, “He asked if the rumours were true…”

“The one Haemin started?” Jihoon asked slowly.

You nodded again. “I… Someone from that group must’ve talked to him and it definitely messed with his head. He wasn’t like… I don’t know, extremely mad about it, just… He just looked like he didn’t know who he was looking at anymore. Was he looking at the real me or a front I put up?”

Soonyoung reaches out a hand to hold yours, giving it a gentle squeeze. “He didn’t believe them, right?”

“I think part of him didn’t want to believe it. Or… he was scared that it could be true. That I was a manipulator, a –”

“You aren’t.” Jihoon’s voice was stern. “That bitch twisted things. That’s a manipulator, ___. You? You’ve always been honest. Haemin is always bitter when people are doing better than her so she’ll always find ways to tear them down. That’s her game.”

“She always shuts you down whenever you mention a new gig, telling you to stop rubbing it in everyone’s faces. I didn’t want to say anything back then because she was your friend, but it always pisses me off.”

You notice the way his jaw clenched, fingers curling into a fist on his lap. “You were proud. You should’ve been – it was one hell of an achievement for you. And this bitch made you feel like you were bragging just for existing.”

“Yea, like, I know how much you value those around you, and that’s a good trait of yours. But Haemin is always putting you down because she thinks she’s better than you. You were excited about something good happening in your life, that’s human – not annoying. She just couldn’t stand not being the center of attention.”

A silence settled for a moment. It was heavy, but not hopeless.

Jihoon’s gaze softened when he looked over. “You’ve been second-guessing yourself all this while because of her. And now she’s got him second-guessing you, too.”

“It’s not your problem if she doesn't like people seeing you shine,” Soonyoung adds. “That’s hers.”

You didn’t really plan what else to do once you got here – in front of Wonwoo and Mingyu’s shared apartment.

Sure, you planned to finally talk to them, but you hadn’t planned the rest. Your heart hammered against your chest like it was trying to crawl out. Your hands were covered by your sleeves, fingers twisting the fabric in a nervous rhythm as a grounding method.

Where the hell do you even begin?

Do you apologise for dropping off the grid? Acknowledge Mingyu’s confession?

Or do you explain yourself to Wonwoo?

The silence stretched in the doorway and you swore it was somehow louder than last week’s party.

You stared at the doorbell like it might explode if you touched it.

Just press it. Say something. Breathe.

Ding-Dong.

Silence.

One second. Two. Three–

Nope nope nope.

You went into full-blown panic.

You can’t do this.

You look like you haven’t slept in a week. You hadn’t even planned what to say.

What if they hated you? What if Wonwoo regretted ever holding any affection towards you? What if Mingyu had changed his mind? What if–

Your feet moved before your brain could reason otherwise. You spun on your heel, fully intent on getting the hell out of there before the door could open. Maybe they could pretend it was a mistake. Wrong floor. Wrong unit. A ghost.

You were probably two steps away from the door when–

“Were you seriously going to ding-dong-ditch us?”

You froze.

Mingyu’s voice sounded half amused, half exasperated.

You turned around slowly, cheeks flushed when you found them both at the doorway.

Mingyu had one hand on the doorframe, eyebrows raised in disbelief. Wonwoo leaned casually against the other side, arms folded and his lips pressed in a faint line.

You gave the weakest shrug known to mankind. “I… I was testing the doorbell..?”

Mingyu blinks. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You disappeared for a week,” Wonwoo adds, his voice low but not angry. “And your comeback strategy was ding-dong-run? Really, Princess?”

The pet name caused your breath to hitch.

“I… I panicked…” you muttered.

Mingyu snorts, “Clearly.”

He steps aside, “Come on in before you sprint back to whatever blanket cave Jihoon said you’ve been rotting in the past week.”

You step closer, chewing on your bottom lip. “Are… you mad?”

“Mad?” Wonwoo responded in a way that you’ve just asked the most ridiculous question. “We were worried, ___. That’s not the same thing.”

The living room felt warmer than the last time you were here. Not in temperature, but it felt like the air carried more weight to it. You sat on the couch, legs pressed together, hands locked in your lap. The fabric of your sleeves are twisted between your fingers, Mingyu sat across you on the floor, back resting against the coffee table.

Wonwoo sat next to you on the couch. There’s some distance between you, but it was to test the waters whether you’d allow him back into your personal space; his elbows resting on his knees.

The silence was thick, but it wasn’t hostile.

Just… there.

You shifted again, pulling your sleeves over your knuckles.

“So… Where do you wanna start?”

You tried to speak. Failed. Tried Again.

“I… I…”

Wonwoo scoots closer, one hand reaching out to give your thigh a gentle squeeze. “It’s okay, Princess. Take your time.”

Mingyu nods, giving you a faint, reassuring smile. “We’re not gonna poof into thin air, y’know?”

You nodded.

You took a breath.

Then another.

And finally:

“Haemin tried to break up a couple back in Pre-U.”

Mingyu blinked. “I beg your pardon?”

“Back in Pre-U, there was this guy called Hyungwon and she kept flirting with him despite knowing that he was taken. And when I told her that was a low move, even for her, she got pissed. Said I had no right to judge her when I’d done the same, if not worse. Which I hadn’t.”

Your voice trembled as you continued, “So she twisted the story. Said I was the one trying to break them up. That I told her I could have anyone I wanted because I was a model and guys would drop their girlfriends for me.”

Mingyu’s jaw dropped slightly, stunned into silence while his brows creased like he couldn’t decide whether to be shocked or furious. You barely notice the moment when Wonwoo shifts, only realising how close he’d gotten when his fingers gently curled around your wrist and tugged you closer.

You don’t resist.

The streamer maneuvered to sit across his lap like it was the most natural thing in the world. His arms steadily wrapped around your body, grounding you as your pulse pounded in your ears. You don’t know if it was the warmth of his body or the way they listened to you explain your story. Regardless, your chest felt lighter and you continued.

“She used the fact that people were starting to pay attention to me, and everyone believed her because she said it with a smile. Nobody bothered to ask for my side. They just stopped texting. Stopped talking. They whispered every time I walked into the room.”

The words linger in the air, but your chest felt… lighter. Like you’d finally let something out that’s been weighing you down for years.

Mingyu hasn’t moved, his eyes locked on your form while trying to decipher every emotion on your face; like he was trying to figure out if he could somehow carry the hurt for you. Wonwoo’s arms stayed wrapped around you, it wasn’t tight but it was steady.

Mingyu finally spoke, his voice hoarse and eyebrows pulled together. “Nobody should’ve made you feel like that. Least of all people who were supposed to be your friends.”

“I just… I thought if I just stayed quiet long enough, maybe… maybe it’d all go away.”

“You don’t need to stay quiet anymore.” Wonwoo’s voice was low as he tilted your chin so you’d look at him. “You’ve been carrying all this by yourself. I didn’t make it any better by questioning you.”

Your breath hitches when your eyes meet. “It’s okay, Wonu… You were just trying to understand…”

He raises a hand to brush a strand of hair behind your ear.

“Fuck,” Mingyu muttered, catching your attention. “I-I’m sorry, Princess. I… I can’t believe I confessed to you when you clearly weren’t in the headspace. I-I just–”

Wonwoo’s arms loosened slightly, not pulling away but to make room so you could adjust yourself. You turned to Mingyu, “It’s okay, Gyu. You… You don’t have to take it back.”

He looks surprised by your words.

You swallowed, “I… I don’t know. It’s just… I’m scared… I feel something for both of you. That… That’s terrifying to me because–”

“You think it isn’t for us?” Mingyu cuts in.

Wonwoo shoots the model a look and he’s quick to shut up, muttering a quiet apology. “It’s just… This is way too fucking insane, even more me. Literally two dudes sitting in the same room with a girl they’ve both fallen in love with and figuring things out.”

Wonwoo’s voice was low and careful when he added, “We also don’t expect you to choose.”

“I don’t want to lose either of you,” you whispered, looking up at Wonwoo before your gaze drifts to Mingyu.

“Well,” Wonwoo says with a shrug that was way too casual. “Polygamy is a thing.”

You and Mingyu blink, caught completely off guard by his words. “What?”

The elder’s gaze doesn’t waver, mouth twitching at the corners like he knew exactly what he was doing. “I’m just saying. I’m into her. You’re into her. Clearly she’s overwhelmed by the idea of choosing when the idea of losing either of us will wreck her. ”

Mingyu stared at him, “Hyung, you’re not ser–”

“I am. You know I don’t joke about the things I want, Gyu.” He tilts his head, resting his chin lightly on your shoulder with you still nestled on his lap. “Like I said, polygamy exists. When done right – with proper communication, consent, and nobody being left in the dark; it’s possible.”

The room was filled with tension, but it wasn’t demanding. You looked between them both, “Is this… Is this something you two want?”

“I’d rather share than walk away, ___.” Wonwoo presses a gentle kiss to the column of your throat, sucking in a sharp breath when you let out a whimper.

Mingyu lets out a breath. “Same here…”

You swallowed, “And… And if you asked me what I want..?”

The streamer hums while the model leaned forward, both asking in unison, “What do you want, Princess?”

Your answer was quiet.

“I want you both…”

tiger couz 🐯: yo tiger couz 🐯: new job offer alert tiger couz 🐯: ok technically not a job offer prettay couz 🎀: wassup tiger couz 🐯: rmb that Dior couple campaign from a year ago? tiger couz 🐯: the one you did with Gyu? prettay couz 🎀: yea prettay couz 🎀: what abt it? tiger couz 🐯: they wanna do some kind of appreciation dinner for everyone involved prettay couz 🎀: a dinner? prettay couz 🎀: why a year after it tho? prettay couz 🎀: seems kinda prettay couz 🎀: idk, off-timing? tiger couz 🐯: the success rlly impressed them tiger couz 🐯: and their investors tiger couz 🐯: hence dinner tiger couz 🐯: we’ll talk deets once jihoon gets back from that Open Mic

“Good girl,” Wonwoo praises, his voice a calm purr as he takes your phone out of your trembling hand. “Good job in replying to your cousin properly while Gyu eats your pretty pussy.”

You’re seated on his lap, back pressed tight against chest, his clothed cock hard beneath you. HIs free arm is wrapped around your waist, keeping you steady while Mingyu keeps his tongue buried in your soaked cunt. His large hands kept your thighs spread while groaning like he’s starving and you’re the only thing he’s allowed to eat.

Your head lolls back onto Wonwoo’s shoulder, lips parted in a loud moan as Mingyu sucks your clit harshly. Your thighs twitch in response, hips bucking forward, but Wonwoo holds you still. “W-Wait..! Hngh!”

“Shh,” he murmurs, pressing a kiss to your temple. “You’re so sensitive here, Princess. Has nobody ever eaten you out?”

You shake your head, voice barely audible over the wet sounds between your legs. “N-No.. Hngh!”

The streamer chuckles low against your ear, hands sliding underneath your sweater to teasingly pinch your nipples. “Poor thing,” he murmurs. “It’s okay. Mingyu’s good at eating pussy. He’ll take care of you.”

Mingyu lets out a growl, hands digging into your thighs as he tongue fucks you deeper, nose bumping against your clit. The lewd sounds of him eating you out fill the room, wet and messy; mixed with your whimpers and the quiet rasp of Wonwoo’s breath against your ear.

You feel more arousal drip out your pussy when he tugs on your nipples. “Hear that, Princess? That’s the sound of a pretty pussy being eaten well.” Then, he gives your clit a spank, causing you to yelp and arch in surprise, the sudden sting sparking through the heat bubbling in your core.

“Better cum soon, ___. Gyu’s not stopping until he’s had enough, and I’m not letting you go until you soak his face.”

Wonwoo turns your face towards his, fingers tilting your chin up. “You’re doing so good for us,” he murmurs, eyes dark and hooded. “Let me kiss you, Princess.”

You can barely manage a nod before his lips are on yours – hot, slow… His tongue slides against yours, stealing your breath as he swallows every needy noise you make. The kiss quickly deepens, getting messier and dizzying.

Mingyu groans between your legs, the sight of you moaning into Wonwoo’s mouth has his cock throbbing in his jeans. He flattens his tongue against your clit and drags it in tight circles, causing you to break from the kiss and your hips twitching.

“G-Gyu! Hngh!”

“That’s it, pretty girl. Cum all over his face.”

Your body obeys, thighs closing in around Mingyu’s head as your orgasm crashes into you. A loud cry rips from your throat, swallowed by Wonwoo’s lips as he kisses you through your climax.

Mingyu continues to lap at your pussy, even when your body’s still trembling from the aftershocks. If anything, he gets hungrier – like he could die in between your thighs and still beg for more. His tongue stays locked on your clit, sucking on the sensitive bundle of nerves that makes you jolt – sliding two fingers into your soaked cunt, curling right against your g-spot.

“G-Gyu,” you whimper, trying to squirm away from the relentless pressure.

But, you can’t move.

Wonwoo wraps an arm around you like a cage, while the other slides up. His fingers brush along your throat before tightening with just enough pressure that makes your breath catch.

“Stay still,” Wonwoo orders, his breath warm against your cheek. “Let him play with your pretty pussy a bit longer.”

You gasp, eyes fluttering open to meet his. That’s when you see it.

There’s a glint of amusement in his eyes as his lips curled into a wicked grin at your reaction. He notices the way your thighs clamp tighter, how your head tilts back.

“Oh?” Fuck, he sounds so hot. “You like that, Princess?”

Your cheeks burn, but you don’t deny it. You’ve always known Wonwoo was the dominant type – maybe it’s the way he carries himself, but what you didn’t know was that he’s kinky too.

And God help you, you’re so into it.

Mingyu groans against your pussy, clearly enjoying both your reactions. He scissors his fingers inside you, bullying your g-spot in a way that has your back arching and breath stuttering. His tongue flicks over your clit in tight, rhythmic strokes, matching the pace of his fingers thrusting into you.

“Wo-Wonu,” you gasp, voice breaking. “I… I’m gonna..!”

Wonwoo tightens the grip he has on your throat, angling your face to look up at him again. “Yea? Gonna cum over his tongue while Gyu eats your sweet cunt? Go on then. Show him just how good he’s making you feel.”

And your body obeys.

Your walls clenched violently around Mingyu’s fingers while your entire body tenses. Letting out a loud cry, liquid gushes out from your pussy, spraying over his face and chin.

That doesn’t stop him, though.

He’s absolutely pussydrunk. His tongue greedily laps through your release like it’s the only thing he’d drink up. His fingers don’t falter either, working you through every tremor and drawing out your high until your legs shake and your moans turn into helpless whimpers.

Wonwoo leans down, kissing the corner of your mouth, hand still snug around your throat. “Such a good girl… Now, the real fun begins.”

Very gently, he guides you off his lap. You’re still trying to catch your breath but you let him maneuver you onto all fours, the cold air hitting your pussy and you could feel how sticky your thighs were – soaked from squirting thanks to Mingyu’s tongue.

You don’t have enough time to balance yourself because you feel the cushions dip in front of you, Wonwoo having one hand wrapped around the base of his long cock. It was thick and the tip was flushed red, already leaking pre-cum from watching you get pleasured by Mingyu earlier.

“Open up for me,” he instructs, tapping the tip against your lips.

You do as you’re told and he slides in slowly, head thrown back as he lets out a low groan at the way your warm mouth wraps around him. “Fuck, yeah,” he breaths, tangling one hand in your hair and starts to guide you lower. “Let me see how much of this dick you can take.”

Your lips stretch around his girth, eyes fluttering shut as the weight of his dick lays on your tongue. He starts to shallowly thrust, letting you adjust before going deeper.

“Shit, Princess,” he groans, hips rolling forward as he watches your cheeks hollow around him. “Look so fucking hot with mouth full of my cock, pussy still dripping… S’like you were made for this.”

Behind you, Mingyu trails kisses along your spine, his hands roaming your body, thumbs digging into the softness of your flesh. You feel him line his cock up against your soaked folds, tip nudging at your entrance.

“Squirted all over my face and you're still this wet for me?" he teases, dragging the leaking cockhead through folds, giving your sensitive clit a few taps. “Think you can fit my whole cock in, Princess?”

You whine around Wonwoo’s cock and the elder just smirks, “Oh, don’t whine like that. We know you can take it. You’re our good girl, aren’t you?”

Mingyu slowly pushes in, grunting at how your walls clenches and unclenches rhythmically around his length. Your thighs quiver, mouth still full of Wonwoo’s cock, and your eyes tear up as you try to breathe through it.

“Fuuuuck,” the model behind you groans, bottoming out inside your heat. “So fucking tight.”

The streamer above you lets out a dark laugh, shallowly thrusting into your mouth again. “Yeah? Never had a cock as big as Gyu’s inside your little pussy, Princess?”

No, you haven’t.

The burn of the stretch has your toes curling, but it fades into pleasure once Mingyu starts thrusting. The pace he sets is deep and hard, making your hips rock back into him instinctively to feel more of the pleasure. Your mouth goes slack around Wonwoo’s cock for a moment and he notices.

He moves his free hand to cup your face, “You alright, Kitten?”

“S-Shit,” Mingyu stutters. “She just got tighter.”

You managed a muffled moan, nodding as your tongue presses against the underside of his cock.

Then, he begins to move in sync with Mingyu – thrusting forward just as the model pulls back. You can tell they’ve done this multiple times, not just from the stories they tell, but how they match each other’s pacing.

“Greedy Kitten,” Wonwoo mutters, his eyes glued to your face. “Taking two cocks at once. What would the media say when they find out, hm? That their pretty little Dior Princess is nothing but a cock hungry whore.”

You choke on a moan, the pleasure coiling in your belly hot and fast.

Mingyu tightens his grip on your hips, snapping his against yours in a rougher pace. “Shit, she’s trembling. Gonna cum again, Princess?”

You sob around Wonwoo’s cock, tears sliding down your cheeks as you try to hold yourself up between them. Every thrust rocks your body forward – Wonwoo fucking your throat slow and deep, Mingyu rutting into your soaked pussy like he never wants to pull out.

Mingyu’s calloused hand slides around your waist, fingers slipping between your thighs and finding your swollen clit. Your entire body jolts like a live wire when he starts to rub it in tight circles.

“Mmh!” your voice is muffled around Wonwoo’s cock, hips bucking back against Mingyu’s. “Fuck, you’re twitching,” he pants, still rutting into your soaked cunt while his fingers work your clit relentlessly.

Wonwoo grunts, fisting your hair gently so he could pull back just enough to let you breathe, eyes focused on the flushed, glassy-eyed face. “Go on, Princess,” he coaxes, voice thick with arousal. “Cum for us. Let us see just how much you love it when we wreck you.”

Your body seizes as you’re pushed to the edge, the orgasm crashing into you harder than the previous ones. Your cries are muffled by Wonwoo’s cock, spit glistening on your lips as your vision blur and your cunt clenches violently around Mingyu’s cock.

Mingyu’s hips stutter as the way you clamp down around him, more slick gushing down your thighs. “Holy fuck– Shit, you’re milking me so good, Kitten.” The lewd squelching of his dick pistoning in and out of your dripping pussy echoes through the room. His fingers never leave your clit – if anything, he presses against it harder and rubs faster.

Wonwoo’s pace quickens too, hips snapping into your mouth with more urgency. You hollow your cheeks, moaning around his thick length, the vibrations pushing him closer to his own climax. He tightens the grip he has on your hair, “Just like that. Sweet mouth of yours is gonna make me cum down this pretty throat soon.”

A few more thrusts and the streamers spills his hot cum down your throat with a strained groan. His release floods over your tongue, thick and hot; and you try your best to swallow it all. “God damn,” he pants, pulling back slowly to watch the way a string of cum and saliva cling to your lips. “That’s the best fucking head I ever got.”

Before you could respond, Mingyu slams his cock deep into your pussy with a loud roar of your name, hot spurts of cum filling your needy hole to the brim and leaking out around where he’s still buried. Your fourth orgasm tears through you without warning, cunt twitching around his cock as he starts to grind into you.

Mingyu presses his forehead against your shoulder, his breaths coming out in heavy pants. “Fuck… You’ve got the best pussy ever, Princess.”

Your body’s still trembling, barely recovering from the last orgasm when Wonwoo gently shifts your limp form. He slides his hand beneath you to lift and reposition your body with ease. “You did so well, Princess,” he coos, laying you on your back before spreading your legs. His gaze drops to your pussy – dripping with Mingyu’s cum and clenching like you want more.

You do.

He kneels between your thighs, cock glistening with your spit as he slowly gets hard again.

“Will you let me fuck you, Princess?” he asks. Your breath hitches at his question. After wrecking you just moments ago, he’s still asking you if he has your consent to continue. The tenderness beneath his dominance catches you off guard, and God, you’d be lying if it didn’t make your heart stutter and just a tad bit hornier.

“Please, Wonu…”

He lets out a guttural moan, rubbing his cockhead against your slick folds, letting it catch on your swollen clit before nudging it down your entrance. The tease alone has you moaning, body trembling with anticipation of being stretched and filled by him.

“My Princess is so polite,” he chuckles, pressing the tip in slowly. “Asking me to fill her needy pussy so sweetly.”

He pushes in slowly, letting you feel every inch of his cock while he loses himself in the way your walls flutter around him. “Fuck you’re still so wet,” he chuckles. You mewl, back arching as he sinks deeper into your sensitive cunt until he fully bottoms out. Some of Mingyu’s cum drips out of your stuffed pussy, staining the couch cushions below.

“Messy little thing.”

Your legs weakly, but instinctively wrap themselves around his waist the moment he starts thrusting, mouth falling open in a breathless moan. “Wonu… Feel s’full…”

He groans, hands tightening the grip they had on your hip. “And you… Feel. So. Fucking. Perfect.”

Each word is punctuated with a hard thrust.

“Can’t wait to creampie this messy cunt, Princess.”

He speeds up, the sound of your sopping pussy growing louder, wetter, filthier with every thrust. You cling to him, grabbing at his shoulders as you feel your orgasm creep up on you again. Your body is overstimulated, but you can’t bring yourself to care – not when two hot men are stuffing you full.

Wonwoo doesn’t warn you that he’s cumming. Instead, he leans into your neck and buries himself to the hilt before warm, thick spurts of cum flood your pussy once again. He stays buried inside you for a few seconds, wanting to keep every drop of his release stuffed inside you. Your walls flutter weakly around his length, body trembling and brain clouded in an overstimulated heat.

But he’s not done.

He pulls away from your neck and straightens his back. You feel his hands roam your body, like he’s trying to ground you – until he presses his palm firmly on your lower belly, right where you feel the thick fullness of him pressing against your womb.

“W-Wonu–!” you gasp, body jolting as the pressure sends a sharp wave of pleasure straight to your core. Your pussy clamps down around his cock, like you were trying to milk more of his delicious cum.

The streamer grins wolfishly, like he knew exactly what he was doing.

“Does it feel good when I do that?” he purrs, rubbing slow circles on the soft swell of your lower belly before pushing down just enough to feel his cock pressing back up into you. “Can you feel me here, Princess?”

You nod frantically, tears pricking the corners of your eyes as your body feels like you’re on cloud nine, hazy with pleasure and overstimulation.

Beside you, Mingyu groans – one hand wrapped tight around his cock, fisting it hard as Wonwoo toys with your fucked-out body. His eyes are glued to the way your belly bulges from both his and the elder’s cum, how you whimper whenever he presses down.

“Shit,” he breathes, stroking himself faster. “That’s so fucking hot.”

Wonwoo looks over to the model, still stimulating you from your belly, his grin never fading. “You just gonna stand there and jerk off? Put that mouth of hers to work, Gyu.”

You’re still dazed but you listen to Wonwoo, turning your head and parting your lips, tongue flicking out as Mingyu steps closer; cock flushed and slick in his hand. He groans when you take him in your mouth, tongue swirling around the tip before sliding down further. Meanwhile, Wonwoo doesn’t stop pressing down on your belly, marvelling in the way your body twitches as you choke around the model’s dick.

The sight was sinful as hell.

Pussy stuffed and dripping, your mouth doing its best to give Mingyu a blowjob and the very act of your submission setting every one of his nerves on fire.

“Oh shit,” Wonwoo curses, leaning down to press a kiss to your temple. “Atta girl. Our Kitten is so messy, but still so eager. ”

Your eyes are watery, cheeks flushed as your throat works around his cock, the tip hitting the back of your throat with each roll of his hips. One hand is tangled in your hair, setting a rhythm while grunts of approval and pleasure fall from his lips, eyes fixed on the way your swollen lips are wrapped around him.

Wonwoo’s cock is nestled perfectly against your g-spot, your pussy full and warm with both men’s cum. His hand continues to apply a steady pressure over your womb, already growing addicted to the way his cock pushes up just slightly inside you every time he pushes down.

He can’t help but let out a low laugh as he watches your thighs tremble, your hips twitching involuntarily as he continues his ministrations. “Look at her, Gyu. Our Princess is so sensitive. Every time I press here, she squirms.”

Mingyu groans, gaze flicking down to your lower belly. “Such a perfect Princess for us,” he pants, his thrusts growing a little rougher.

Your body jolts again when Wonwoo’s fingers find your overstimulated clit with ease, rubbing it in quick, insistent circles while simultaneously pressing down on your lower belly. Your thighs kick out, hands clutching the cushion beneath you.

“Gonna squirt for us again, Kitten?”

You try to answer, but you can’t – not when your mouth is full of Mingyu’s thick dick. Not that it matters anyway because Wonwoo applies more pressure to your lower belly, rubbing your clit faster.

Your orgasm hits you out of nowhere. You sob around Mingyu’s cock as a fresh gush of liquid soaks Wonwoo’s thighs and the cushion beneath you. Your body convulses, mouth going slack as your cunt clenches uncontrollably around Wonwoo’s still-hard length.

“F-Fuck–” Wonwoo growls, hips jerking forward at the milking compression of your pussy. The fluttering spasms of your walls trigger his own orgasm, his cock twitching before pumping another load of hot semen into your already stuffed cunt. “Take it, Princess. Fucking taking my cum in your greedy pussy.”

The sight of you squirting and being creamed by Wonwoo was enough to tip Mingyu right over the edge, too. With a low, choked moan, he pushes his cock into your throat one last time and spills his load into your mouth, groaning as the way your throat flexes around his length with every spurt of his release.

Moments later, Mingyu carefully pulls out from your mouth, hand slipping from your hair to cradle your jaw, wiping the mess from your lips with his thumb. “Can’t believe you all of that, Princess…”

Wonwoo stays inside your pussy just a little longer, basking in the aftershocks before he too pulls out, eyes never leaving the sight of his cum leaking out from your fluttering, overstimulated hole.

The room is quiet now, save for the sound of heavy breathing and the occasional rustle of fabric as they both slowly calmed down from their highs.

You’re still sprawled across the couch, body limp and trembling, the air of the room thick with the scent of sweat and sex. Shit, if you didn’t look sinful before this, you definitely do now – cheeks flushed, lips swollen and thighs slick with cum.

Wonwoo moves first, arms wrapping around your torso to gently pull you into his chest. His hands gliding up your sides in soothing motions, peppering kisses across your face as you melt into him. “You okay, Princess?” he murmurs against your hair, “Hope your body isn’t too sore.”

You let out a broken laugh, “Umm… I might be limping for a few days.”

Mingyu chuckles, returning from the bathroom with a damp towel and kneels between your legs. His hands are careful as he starts to wipe between your thighs, murmuring soft apologies against the skin every time you twitch and flinch.

“You made such a mess,” he says affectionately. “And you look so pretty when you cum, too.”

You hum in response, too hazy to think of a proper answer, but your fingers find his wrist and give it a gentle squeeze. Once he’s done, he tosses the cloth aside and settles beside you and Wonwoo on the couch. The streamer adjusts your sweater to cover your upper body, gently brushing away the sweat-matted hair of your forehead.

“Do you need anything? Water? Some sweets?”

You shake your head, eyes fluttering shut as you let yourself melt further into his arms. Mingyu reaches a hand out and gives your thigh a squeeze, “You were incredible, Kitten. Took everything we gave you.”

“Didn’t know you could squirt like that, too,” Wonwoo adds, smirking against your skin.

“Shut up…” you mumble, cheeks heating up.

They both laugh, low and warm.

Neither of you move for a long while, their soft touches making your heart swell despite the dull ache you feel.

🎓Pledis Pressboard 📰

Where tea spills, news thrills & everyone’s in the loop! Student-run.

👀 GOSSIP BOARD

💬 anon: anyone else noticing wonwoo n mingyu following the Dior Princess lately?

anon1: omg i thought i was the only one anon1: it’s not even the creepy or friends kind yk anon2: omg is my three-ship finally sailing???? anon3: bro wtf anon3: they’re dating the same girl??? anon3: not to yack their yum but like??? anon2: @anon3 bro it’s 20XX anon2: poly relationships are a thing anon4: real anon4: and if it bothers you then idk anon4: sounds more of a you problem than their problem tbh

Wonwoo wasn’t in a rush.

His next class was across the quad, warm sunlight filtering through the trees as students filed past. He’d been in a good mood, mind trailing back to the way you smiled at him that morning – wearing Mingyu’s hoodie, half-asleep and kissing his jaw like it was second nature.

“Wow, speak of the devil,” someone said behind him.

He stopped.

Turned.

There they were – the same girls from the party weeks ago. The ones that had cornered him and smiled while spouting poison in his face. He recognised the one in the middle – Haemin, and she was smiling far too bright for his liking.

“We heard a rumour,” she said, strolling up and standing next to him like they were friends. “You and Mingyu… dating her..?”

He doesn’t answer.

Another girl giggled. “Didn’t think you’d fall into her trap. Guess she is good at what she does.”

The third girl added, “I know they say psychology students try to fix people, but didn’t think you’d double down on the whole ‘damaged girl’ fantasy.”

“You remember what we told you, right? It’s just that… Well, we thought after what we told you, you migh’ve… y’know, figured out she’s what she seems. She’s a manipulator, Wonwoo. We’d hate to see you and Mingyu get hurt over someone like her.”

Still, he doesn’t say anything, but he watches them – staring at them like he was waiting for them to finish their script.

Haemin leans in, “She always finds her way into guys’ beds. She plays innocent but she’s only ever good at spreading her legs. She’s a model, after all – kinda comes with the package.”

The silence that followed stretched like a taut wire. Wonwoo’s expression didn’t twist, his eyes remained unreadable. Hell, he didn’t even look angry. He took a step forward, the slight shift in his posture made all three girls tense.

“Y’know,” he began, voice low and calm. “I find it funny how loud people get when they think they got away with something, thinking the truth will never get out.”

Haemin’s smiles faltered.

“You may have gotten away with pinning things on ___, but did you really think the consequences of your actions in the past wouldn’t come back to bite you?”

The other girls stiffened.

Wonwoo leans down, just enough to mutter, “What would happen if word got out you were the one that was trying to break up Hyungwon and girlfriend back then?”

Her eyes widened.

“___ was nice enough to not fight back, to let you paint her as the villain. You used her face and her reputation to twist the narrative. And when people believed you, you doubled down. Why? Perhaps it’s because that was easier than admitting you were bitter, petty and jealous.”

“She told you that?” Haemin scoffs, crossing her arms as a means of defense. “God, she has you wrapped around her finger worse than I thought.”

Wonwoo shrugs, “I have no shame in admitting I’m whipped for my Princess. You, on the other hand? You’re so used to controlling the narrative that you forget some people don’t buy into this kind of gossip that should be left in high school.”

His jaw tightened. “You know what sets you and ___ apart? After all these years, not once has she tried to make anyone look bad. Not once has she spoken about you the way you speak about her, and that tells me a lot of who she is as a person.”

They instinctively took a step back as he took another step forward. Wonwoo didn’t raise his voice, didn’t cause a scene, but the air around him was terrifying in a sense that the calmness made people feel unsafe.

“I honestly don’t give a shit about what you think of her, and I sure as hell don’t give a fuck how many people you’ve fooled with the stories you’re spreading. But, I do care when someone insults her. Once again, she’s my girlfriend and you don’t get to talk about her like that.”

He looked at each of them in turn.

“And if I ever hear you speak of her name like that again, I promise you that you will regret it.”

Haemin looked like she wanted to scoff. Wanted to claim back some control. But the way Wonwoo stared down at her, like his gaze alone could tear her apart, kept her silent. He took one final glance at them and walked away without another word.

When he steps out of the hallway and onto the stone paths, the cool air greets him first – crisp and damp with the scent of earth and moss. Then, his phone buzzed with a message from you.

🎀 princess 👑: i miss you :(

The glow from the TV flickers across the living room, casting shadows over bowls of half-eaten popcorn, a forgotten beer can and the three of you tangled on the couch. You’re sat between the men, legs stretched across Mingyu’s thighs while your head rests against Wonwoo’s shoulders, his fingers idly playing with your hair.

Mingyu’s feet were propped up on the coffee table, occasionally popping popcorn into your mouth while his free hand lazily rested on your shin. A horror movie was playing on the screen, courtesy of Mingyu, who was far too invested in it for someone who claims to hate jump scares.

However, there’s been a question itching at the back of your mind all evening. Mingyu had casually mentioned seeing Wonwoo with them near the main campus earlier that day. At the time, you sort of just hummed and dismissed it, changing the subject; but now, hours later, it still bothered you.

You lifted your head slightly, voice soft. “Wonu?”

He didn’t take his eyes off the movie. “Hm?”

“Gyu said he saw you talking to Haemin earlier.”

The silence that follows cut sharper than the violins on the soundtrack.

Mingyu goes still next to you and Wonwoo shifts beneath you, pausing the movie with a quiet tap of the remote. He turns his head towards you, his expression calm and steady, but his eyes are focused on you.

“Are you mad?” he asks, voice soft.

You sat a bit straighter, “I’m… I’m not mad, promise. I just… I just…”

He hooks two fingers underneath your chin, tilting your head up to look at him. “Hey, hey… Look at me, Princess. They came up to me on my way to class. Said they heard rumours that we’re in a poly relationship, tried to get underneath my skin.”

Your lips stretched into a thin line, a sinking feeling in your stomach. “And… you entertained them?”

He shrugs, “Honestly, I didn’t really care much about what they said. That is, until she said something that crossed the line.”

“What did she say?”

Wonwoo hesitated, his jaw flexing slightly. “She said you always found your way into guys’ beds. That you were only ever good at spreading your legs because you’re a model.”

Mingyu stiffened beside you, “Fuck’s sake…”

Your stomach dropped, the blood in your face drained. “She really said that?”

Wonwoo nodded, “She did. And I snapped.”

You blinked.

“Told her that I knew what she did in Pre-U. Well, at least I pretended to look like I knew what happened. Also told her that if she ever talks about my girlfriend like that again, they’ll regret it.”

The room was quiet again, but it wasn’t the heavy kind this time.

You exhaled, your breath a little shaken. Then you leaned into him, pressing a kiss to the underside of his jaw. “You didn’t have to do that…” The streamer almost purrs at the feel of your lips against his skin, “I’m not about to let some petty bitches think they have the right to talk down on or to you. Nor am I gonna let them rewrite your worth just because they’re bitter.”

Mingyu leans over, pecking your cheek. “You’re not alone anymore, ___. You have us, and we’ll defend you through hell and back.”

You chuckle softly, “You two wanna protect me that badly, huh?”

The model snorts, “Obviously. You’re our Princess.”

Wonwoo ruffles your hair, laughing when you swat at his hand. “So let us, yea? End of discussion.”

The three of you relax once again – Mingyu unpausing the movie and Wonwoo shifting close so you’d all be cuddled closer. Fake screams fill the room again, but Gods, your heart felt so safe.

So loved.

taglist !!

@syluslittlecrows @itaewonsquad97 @gyuhao365 @prettypeachprincesz @babycaratdeul @chloe856112 @minhui896

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jellynie · 3 days ago

Text

synopsis. joshua is a gentleman with impeccable sense of direction and lucky strike in finding you

paring(s). hong joshua x f!reader

genre(s). non-idol au (not specified), fluff?, angst?, drama

warning(s). mentions and apperiance of a toxic ex (reader's), mention of drinking, reader knows how to drive (and practices safe driving as you all should), again angst? if you count it as angst

word count. 2.7k

a/n. original plot was darker but then I realized that it's joshua and I like him too much for that, I hope the flow makes sense, I was writing this and school work at the same time so it might sound bit... too professional, mouth-full?

no usage of y/n, written in second person pov

If everyone who knew Joshua could describe him in one word, it would be the word gentleman. Suitable noun to be attached to him, for the man did have a gentle smile and all of the proper manners memorized in the tip of his pinky finger. Always holding respect for people around him, acts of consideration before you could even notice with the touch soft as a feather, tender, comforting, many wouldn't ever think twice to trust him.

You too share the same credence as others, Joshua is a gentleman. You would never deny that. How could you, he was always one step ahead of your needs, like now for example, as he was moving through dresses laid on the bed, the ones he made sure to steam and place out for you.

It was your anniversary dinner, and as always he took care of everything. Part of you feels bad about it, how all you had to do was bring along your gift and dress up, well he helped you with the later too. Showing you options with his giddy smile he was forcing down, he used the excuse of matching, but part of you had suspicion he just wanted to see you in those dresses, but was too awkward to just ask.

Perhaps you did notice how he stirs your opinion on each dress, always finding a fault in it, but just in the same you don’t think twice when you settle on his choice for the night, simply thinking that once again your tastes are overlapping. One more concurrence in your relationship, you liked it that way.

You are reminded he is a gentleman in the hallway where he puts your heels on for you, avoiding the ones he knows hurt just enough to be uncomfortable but not enough to be thrown away. Once more, when he drives you to the restaurant, he talks, filling the silence with his voice, reminding you of your nail appointment next week and asking when to pick you up.

With that in mind you think of the last week, the day that actually started this spiraling of you pondering Joshua’s title of gentleman, you offered to drive your friend and their car home, considering they were more than tipsy to get there safely, and just as you checked if you had your driving licence on you noticed something amiss, its expired.

There was staring back at you a license that expired last year, not a couple of days, weeks even, it was almost ten months ago. You try to figure out how you hadn't noticed that as you balance your drunk friend on your shoulder and then it clicks in your head, you started dating Joshua last year. The guy who insisted on driving you almost everywhere, the guy who had a GPS installed in his head when it came to you.

As you start laughing at your predicament, finding the whole situation insane and sharing the bad news with your friend. The same one who, bless her heart, started teasing about what gentleman your boyfriend was, gagging at the sweetness of not turning on your car for almost a year because you had a private driver. You nod your head, half listening to her rant as you dial his number, heart beating against your chest as he picks after the second ring, you almost second question if you were the sober one.

Usually, event like that would go over your head, you would laugh about it when you had debrief with your boyfriend and move on, shaking your head as you mumble about renewing your license, but what made you pause was simple, ‘You don’t have to rush you know, it will continue to collect dust anyways. Besides, that way you can’t run off too far’ It was a joke, obviously, driving yourself wasn't the only way of transportation, but what made you choke on air was the words that followed. ‘Well even if you go too far I will find you, I always do.’

Romantic, you think at first, flush covers your cheeks, you even giggle, like some highschool girl with a crush. It feels nice, he did always seem to find you, no matter where you were, like he was your personal guardian angel, always there, lurking even when you couldn't see him.

And that is when you realize that most people who claim Joshua's gentleman agenda don't understand that despite him being as gentle as the rose petals whose scent overtakes the whole room he will always be too overwhelming in the same way you cover your nose when you pass the perfume aisle in the store. Basic as you may be to make that comparison it was the first that came to your brain when Joshua showed real interest in you. His usual passive expression on his face, the one with an automatic smile you used to question if it was practiced, as he holds the umbrella over your head, for some reason the droplets of rain that soaked your clothes didn't feel as cold as his gaze did.

You aren't sure how or why he was there, you just got broken up with and he showed up, shielding you from the rain. Like he was some k-drama’s male lead you watched when you wanted to feel something other than constant disappointment of your own relationships. His own clothes were getting ruined at a rapid pace yet the world stopped for a minute. Million other thoughts running through your head yet you couldn’t verbalize them, couldn’t even open your mouth to greet him, thank him, nothing. All you could do is listen, to the murmur of the raindrops hitting the world around you, and his voice-

‘Are you okay?’

You were’t sure.

‘Are you cold’

Maybe

‘Do you want to go inside?’

Possibly, but then you would have to face the fact that your face was wet from tears and not the dumb rain.

‘Hey, can you look at me?’

Oh.

You raise your gaze to meet his, it is not the same expression he had five, ten minutes ago. His brows were pulled together, something like a frown but you weren't sure. You come to the conclusion you aren’t sure of many things, considering you wouldn't be able to describe the emotion that was burning behind those beautiful brown eyes of his. He steps closer to you, pushing you to take steps of your own, just backwards. You are too immersed into his expression that you almost don’t notice your back hitting the wall of the covered bus station.

‘’Did you finally break up with that bastard?’

Oh?

He must have seen your raised eyebrows and gaping mouth like a fish on the shore, because he laughed. What a gratifying laugh, your lips pressed shut together forming into a smile. He runs his fingers through his wet hair strands and shakes his head in a way that reminds you of a wet dog drying off, you bet you looked like a wet cat in comparison.

‘Is that a yes?’

‘Yeah, its a yes’

You answer his question for the first time, voice quivering from coldness and something more.

‘What a relief, he was ugly’

Your cheeks are hurting from the smile stretching on your face, a hum graces his ears, like you are agreeing with the statement but trying to be a bigger person.

‘And you are really pretty… What an ass, he had someone as amazing as you and let you slip right trough of his fingers’

Oh!

Joshua raises his eyebrows, a boyish smile covering up and replacing all of the memories of previous times you saw his smile. He must really enjoy your shocked expressions, but you don’t think of that, you don’t dare think of that.

‘I like your smile the most but surprise is a close second. No, I lied, I still haven’t seen them all, I bet you look even more beautiful when you wake up and your brain tries to catch up with the world, you seem like the type.’

He says, and for the third time this night he shocked you.

‘Sorry? Too fast? Maybe, but I've been biting my tongue for as long as I've known you. like every cell in my being was screaming to make you laugh, to be the reason you laugh. And seeing you drenched after getting out of the shackles that asshole put you in, seeing your face light up again like you remembered you are alive? I just want to make sure your mind never goes back to clouds of doubt that you aren’t deserving of everything a real man can offer.’

Oh! OH!

He doesn’t stop, tripping over some words, you yourself never saw him like this, trying to catch up with his own thoughts, fixing mistakes he stutters out.

‘Woah, that’s a lot. I know. I should be poring everything out right now, very bad timing’

At least he recognizes it.

‘But…ever since we met, I find myself always around you, like there was some sort of running joke I wasn’t aware of. Suddenly we had mutual friends, same gym, same schedules, same coffee shop, same hobbies, same taste in decor, it was some kind of twisted torment to be pinning over you while you were in a stable relationship, constantly seeing you like a reminder that you are…too much of compatibility for me to be just a coincidence.’

Was he two steps behind or two steps ahead of you? Did it matter? He was there, wasn’t he? A friend of a friend? An acquaintance from all of your usual spots? A guy with whom you go to pottery class every Thursday afternoon? A neighbor down the street who gifted you a new watering can when yours rusted from being left out during winter. A friend who makes sure your cup is full and the plate never empty when he sits next to you?

You think of what you would use to describe him as that isn't a gentleman. It wasn't rose either, nor petals, nor any poetic shit you come up with when you think of him.

He had a honeyed smile, talked in the same sweet way, with a saccharine voice, like you would get a sugar rush every time he spoke to you. Tone soft, precious, like he was reading poetry rather than spitting lies one after another. He wasn't some bad guy in your story, far from it.

He loves you, you are almost certain of that. Even beyond his facade, beyond the dark glimmer of his gaze when he thinks you aren't looking. He truly loves you, maybe that love is mixed with obsession, maybe a bit of hatred too. Hatred for making him wait so long, hatred for dating that guy instead of him, hatred for your uncertain words the day he confessed under the rain. Yet that hatred was never directed to you, for he never turned his hypothetical rose thorns towards you, he was always soft, delicate, gentle. There is that word again, gentle. He was a gentle man, your man, yet you couldn't use it to describe him completely without feeling that there is something missing.

You think back of the day you went to pick your things from your ex's place, Joshua was there, funnily enough, he drove you there after a date you two went to. Your ex boyfriends dropped your stuff unceremoniously in your hands then glazed back at Joshua waiting in her car, then back at you.

‘That dude…You..’

‘What?’

‘I know I've been an ʼʼasshole’’.’

He says, mockingly muttering out those words, as he doesn't believe he ever was in the wrong throughout your relationship- ‘but that guy is bad news, a real creep’

‘What do you mean?’

You never heard someone use creep as a word to attach to Joshua.

‘Ugh’, a groan, like the need for explanation shouldn't exist at all, like it should be so obvious. You are reminded of all the times he would act like your questions were stupid and once again you are glad you don't have to put up with him.

‘Are you seriously asking that? He was always two steps behind you, every time there was an event he was there! Every time I open socials there he is, next to you! Like he was your boyfriend and not me, and do you know how creepy it is when he calls me for you!’

‘Calls you?’

‘Duh, like he just says, where are you? Why does he want to know, even when I broke up with you, hold and behold, his ID was showing up on my phone as you finally left to swallow in your own pity party’

He irks you, with his words and part of you wants to just snatch your stuff from his musty hands and leave…but part of you wants to hear him out. Wants to know if it is really true Joshua was talking with your ex while the two of you were dating. He never mentioned that, hell you didn't even know he had his number, your ex never joined your friend group, hell you even forced him to join you on events they would be present. And Joshua never put much attention on who you were dating, then again he never put attention on the fact he liked you either.

‘Did he now? You sure you aren’t just bitter I am moving on?’

‘Wow, wooow’ He boasts, loud and loutish, and you don’t even have to turn around to know Joshua now had his window rolled down. What a circus, and the head clown was convinced his nose is a red ball and that it is in fact fabulous.

‘Think what you want, you are missing out on a catch like me, not the other way around. Be with a stalker if you want, I don’t care’

He rambles on for a couple minutes more, about how you are insane to think he would ever think twice about you after today, and that you better not come crawling back after you realise what mess you made for yourself, you stop listening and check if all your things are in the busted-out basket. Once you conclude that what could be left with him isn’t important enough to wait for him to finish his rant you scoop your things back up, away from his ugly basket.

Once you turn you see Joshua with one leg out of the car, eyebrows raised, eyes widened as if he was a meerkat caught in some trouble, back straightening up once your eyes meet. You chuckle and your ex must have realised you aren’t paying him attention anymore, with a surprisingly short string of curses he slammed the door shut.

Joshua returns your smile once you are near enough for him to hold onto stuff you were carrying, pushing them into the backseat.

‘He is louder when there aren’t people around. Glad you won’t have to hear such badly articulated sentences anymore’

‘What about you?’

‘What about me?’

‘Aren’t you glad you won’t have to listen to him anymore?’

A pause. Then a shake of his head and a laugh, he doesn't do it condisending way, rather he does it to himself, you soon realize why, once he mumbles out next words like a secret confession.

‘I tried not to listen to him speak in the first place, but then again I wasn't the one in relationship with him, couple of exchanged words that are ignored don't come close being with him’

‘Woah, Joshua ignoring people, that's a new one…’

‘Well he was always a churlish pal, lacking much grace when talking about…others. I don’t think paying attention to whatever brash words may come out of his mouth are worth anything really.’

He gives an awkward smile, the one that tells you more than words. You pretend not to notice the pause, a deflection on not to say he talked bad about you specifically, you nod along, agreeing.

So wherever that question comes up, wherever someone asks you who your boyfriend is, what's he like. You would smile and say. Gentleman, because the parts of him that would question that statement are the parts that only you will see, and you will make sure of that. You will leave your location on, ask for a ride even when you don’t have to, turn a blind eye to his soft influence, pretend you don’t know that lucky meetings were not dependent on fate but on how good Joshua knew you.

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scarletwinterxx · 3 days ago

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be the rest of your life or whatever - choi seunngcheol imagine (2)

this is waaaaay tooooo cute to stay in my drafts, also so many readers are asking for this so here you go😅 if you haven't read the first part, check it out here!

currently working on two fics i'll hopefully post for ww and sc's bday but i have lotsssss of editing to do. so here's a quick spin off?? part 2??? whatever you call this HAHA hope you like it!

you can follow me on x, niniramyeonie 😊🌻

for my other svt fics, check them here

All works are copyrighted ©scarletwinterxx 2025 . Do not repost, re-write without the permission of author.

(gif not mine, credits to rightful owner)

Living together came with a rhythm. a kind of dance you didn’t choreograph but somehow perfected anyway.

Like how he swears up and down the keys are missing, again, and he’s tearing the apartment apart like someone broke in and stole just that.

Did you check the pocket of your jacket? After a beat of silence...

“…Don’t say anything.”

Or how he leaves his socks in the weirdest places on the back of the couch, the bathroom sink, once inside the microwave which he claims it was “a joke. And somehow, you're the designated sock police.

But in return?

He opens every jar for you like it’s a challenge from the gods. Like, you’ll struggle with a jar of kimchi for three seconds before dramatically setting it down and calling out,

“Choi Seungcheol, fulfill your purpose.” And he’s there instantly, chest puffed like a knight, twisting that lid with one hand like he was born for it.

“Anything for you, milady,” he says.

“...Okay but put it back in the fridge though.”

He restocks the snacks without asking, always the exact brand you like even the weird seasonal ones. You refill his protein powders and label them so he doesn’t accidentally scoop pre-workout at midnight again. He insists on doing the heavy lifting at the grocery store. You insist he buys less of everything you know he’s not actually going to eat.

You steal his hoodies. He pretends to be mad. Then buys more hoodies “accidentally” in your size.

He hogs the blanket. You retaliate by becoming a human starfish.

You always find the TV remote. He always remembers where you left your glasses.

You cook when you’re in the mood. He cooks when you’re not.

“I don’t want to cook today.”

“Great. That makes two of us. Wanna order chicken?”

“God, I love you.”

The laundry is a war zone. He folds like a human disaster. You have a system. He doesn’t get it. You stop trying to explain. He starts handing you clothes with puppy eyes. You fold everything. He brings you snacks as tribute.

And sometimes it’s quiet just brushing teeth side by side, bumping hips while folding towels, scrolling on the couch with your legs tangled, his hand absently running up and down your back.

It’s a million tiny moments. Mundane. Messy. Magical.

You live together like you’ve always been meant to.

And in the chaos of socks, jars, keys, and too many snack runs and there’s no one else you’d rather do this whole life thing with.

He’s pacing behind you in the kitchen like a man on a mission. Shirtless, gym shorts hanging low on his hips, towel slung around his neck and hair still damp from the shower but instead of enjoying the rare peace of post-workout bliss, he’s spiraling.

“I’m serious,” he huffs. “They’re cutting out everything. No sugar, no bread, no ramyeon. do you know what that means? That means I can’t even look at your late-night snack stash without getting side-eyed by the trainer.”

You’re barely listening. Not because you don’t car but because you’ve got a spatula in one hand, half an eye on the simmering pot, and you’re already used to the sound of him monologuing behind you

“You don’t even like bread that much,” you reply calmly

“Exactly! That’s not the point. The point is, now that I can’t have it, I want it more. I’ve never wanted toast this badly in my life. And don’t even get me started on coffee. I asked if I could just have one iced vanilla latte and the coach looked at me like I asked for a cigarette.”

You hum thoughtfully and give the stew a stir. “Okay, but… why the sudden panic? You've never cared this much before.”

“I don't know,” he grumbles, tugging the towel off his neck and flopping dramatically onto one of the stools at the counter. “It’s different now. National team stuff feels bigger. Like… all eyes on us, you know? I feel like I need to be in the best shape of my life.”

You pause mid-stir, then turn to look at him.

He’s frowning at the countertop, brows knit together, abs still annoyingly visible for someone claiming to be “out of shape.”

And you, in your oversized t-shirt and fluffy socks, holding a ladle and feeling every bit the picture of domestic chaos, tilt your head.

“Why?”

He blinks up at you. “Why what?”

You smile, soft but exasperated. “Why the pressure? You already made the team. You're already good. And… I like you like this.”

He stares.

You shrug, returning to the stove. “I like you when you're all sweaty and complaining about toast. I like your stupid grumpy post-practice face. I like when you eat three servings of dinner and then act surprised you're full.”

You glance at him over your shoulder. “I like you, period. Whether you're sculpted like a Greek god or soft like a steamed bun.”

His laugh breaks before he can stop it. “Soft like a steamed bun? That’s your bar?”

“You love steamed buns.”

“I—okay, valid.”

You grin to yourself, stirring again like it's the most casual confession in the world. Behind you, you hear the stool creak. A few seconds later, warm arms wrap around your waist, chin resting on your shoulder.

“Do you also like me when I keep eating while I’m on a ‘diet’?”

“Do you also keep lying to your trainer about what you ate?”

He presses a kiss to your cheek. “He doesn’t need to know about the tteokbokki incident.”

You laugh, leaning back into him.

“See?” you murmur. “Perfect just like this.”

“You’re dangerous.”

“You’re easy.”

He pinches your waist and you yelp, elbowing him gently in return.

And in that tiny kitchen, with the smell of dinner in the air and the background hum of life after college settling into something real, something solid you realize neither of you would trade this for anything.

You turn around in his arms, wooden spoon still in hand, and eye him up and down like he’s your favorite guilty pleasure at 2 a.m.

“Go on,” you say, smirking. “Tell your scary trainer your girlfriend likes you like this.”

You gesture vaguely to his entire body shirtless, towel-hair, the faintest pout still on his lips from earlier.

“I dare you. Look him dead in the eye and go, ‘My girlfriend thinks I’m delicious just the way I am.’”

He throws his head back laughing. “Delicious? What am I, a snack?”

“You’ve always been a snack,” you say, poking him in the side with your spoon. “Now you’re just a full meal. Extra side dishes. Dessert included.”

He catches your wrist mid-poke, grinning. “Wow. Remember when you refused to admit I was hot?”

You scoff, dramatic. “I was protecting myself.”

“From what, exactly?”

“From the endless ego that would’ve followed!”

“Too late,” he says smugly, pressing a kiss to the side of your mouth. “I’ve got receipts now.”

You narrow your eyes. “Yeah, well… now I sleep in your bed.”

“You do,” he says proudly.

You lift a brow. “And steal all the blankets.”

“And wear my shirts.”

“And finish your fries.”

He sighs, leaning in, voice softening. “And still somehow call me the lucky one.”

You go a little quiet at that, cheeks warming, until

“Also,” you add quickly, because God forbid you let the softness linger too long, “you do snore. Loud. Like a dying vacuum.”

He gasps. “Rude.”

“And you hog the bathroom.”

“You use all the hot water!”

“Because I have longer hair!”

“Because you’re high-maintenance!”

You’re both smiling too wide to care, leaning into each other in between jabs. The stew simmers away forgotten for now as he hooks his arms tighter around your waist and rests his forehead against yours.

“You’re lucky I love you,” he murmurs.

You grin “Damn right I am.”

And right there, wrapped in each other, laughter tangled in the air you're both more than okay with the fact that this is what forever might look like.

The sun’s barely up, the soft golden light slipping through the half-closed curtains. The apartment’s quiet, save for the occasional shuffle of Seungcheol getting ready. duffel bag zipped, shoes quietly set by the door, phone and keys in their usual spot.

But before he leaves, he makes one last stop. Bck to the bedroom.

You're still tangled in the sheets, half-facedown with hair a mess, one leg kicked out and the other tucked underneath the comforter. His hoodie is slipping off one shoulder, revealing the marks he left last night, the reason you're still dead to the world this morning.

He stands at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, smirking like the devil himself. Damn right you're tired, he thinks. I should get a medal for that performance.

But it’s not just the pride. It’s the way your brow twitch slightly, lips parted, cheeks still pink with leftover warmth, curled up in the cocoon of their shared bed like you belong nowhere else. There’s something deeply satisfying in knowing that this—you—is what he gets to come home to.

He steps closer, gently kneels beside the bed, brushes the hair from your face.

“Still knocked out, huh?” he whispers, voice low and affectionate. “You’re lucky I love you.”

You grumble something unintelligible, barely stirring, and that just makes him smile wider.

He leans in, presses a soft kiss to your temple. Then your cheek. Then the corner of your mouth.

You shift slightly, brow scrunching.

“Cheol…” you mumble, still far from the waking world.

“I’m heading out,” he murmurs against your skin. “Eat when you wake up, okay?”

You barely nod, eyes still closed, and he can’t help but press one more kiss to your lips. He stands, adjusts the hoodie you’re wearing so it covers you properly, then heads out, casting one last glance at your sleeping figure before the door shuts softly behind him.

He never leaves without kissing you goodbye.

And no matter how early the hour or how long the day ahead—he never forgets who he's coming back to.

You walk into the apartment with a spring in your step and a very mischievous glint in your eyes. He’s sprawled out on the couch, fresh out of the shower, hair damp and wearing those sweatpants. The grey ones. The dangerously effective ones.

He’s half-watching a game, half-scrolling through his phone, fully unaware of the chaos you’re about to unleash.

You drop your bag, stretch like you just ran a marathon, and casually stroll over, plopping onto the couch beside him like you’re not about to start a war.

“Hey,” you say sweetly, leaning your head on his shoulder.

“Hey, baby.” He doesn’t even look up. “How was your wax appointment?”

You grin. Game on.

“Oh, it was great,” you say, keeping your tone breezy. “Really smooth. He did a good job.”

There’s a pause. He blinks. “He?”

You nod, completely deadpan. “Yeah. This new guy. Super professional. Like he had the gentlest hands. Barely felt a thing.”

His head slowly turns toward you, phone now lowered in his lap. “He? Did a—wax?”

You nod again, eyes wide, innocent. “Uh-huh. Brazilians, you know? It’s delicate work. And oh my god he was so thorough. Light hands, like feathers. Kinda soothing, actually.”

He’s blinking at you like he’s buffering. Like his brain just short-circuited.

“Wait. Hold on. A guy waxed your entire—” He waves vaguely toward your lower half like his vocabulary’s given up. “Down there?!”

You shrug, completely unbothered. “Mhm. He even complimented me. Said I had very ‘cooperative skin.’ Isn’t that cute?”

Seungcheol shoots up to sit fully upright, eyes bulging. “Cooperative skin?! WHAT DOES THAT EVEN MEAN?!”

You bite your lip to stop from laughing. “It means I didn’t flinch or move. He was really impressed. Very gentle. Like his hands were magical. Want me to call and get you a slot?”

Seungcheol looks personally victimized.

“You’re joking.”

You smile sweetly. “Want to see? He did such a good job—”

“NO!” he yells, lunging for a pillow and smacking it against his face. “NO, I DON’T WANT TO SEE, WHAT THE HELL, BABY—”

You finally crack, bursting into laughter so loud it makes the lamp shake.

“Oh my god—your face!” you wheeze, flopping over dramatically onto his lap as he groans into his hands. “You looked like you were about to file a police report!”

“I ALMOST DID!” he shouts. “WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT? DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY BLOOD VESSELS I JUST POPPED?!”

You’re laughing so hard now you’re crying, clutching your stomach as he glares at you.

“I was this close to showing up to the salon, flipping over the reception desk like ‘WHERE’S GENTLE HANDS?!’”

“‘Where’s Gentle Hands!’” you repeat, howling. “That sounds like a mob boss!”

“You’re insane,” he grumbles, covering your face with a throw pillow as punishment. “You’re lucky I love you.”

Still giggling, you peek out. “Love me enough to help me moisturize my cooperative skin?”

He groans, gets up, grabs another pillow, and throws it at you.

“You’re banned. No more waxing appointments without adult supervision.”

He’s still glaring at you, pillow abandoned somewhere on the floor, his arms crossed and jaw clenched like he’s fighting the urge to combust.

“Oh, it’s so funny, huh?” he bites out

You wipe a tear from the corner of your eye, your grin stretching ear to ear. “I mean… a little. Just a teeny bit.”

He narrows his eyes like he’s trying to calculate whether he’s mad or just irrevocably in love with you. “I endured years of you arguing with me about everything under the sun,” he starts, pacing now like he’s testifying in court. “Before we even dated. Before I could kiss you to shut you up. Before I could call you mine when you were out here being stubborn for sport.”

You snort. “I was not stubborn for sport.”

He ignores you. “You’d correct my essays, roast my fashion, roll your eyes at me so hard I could feel the breeze—”

“Because you wore neon socks to an actual class presentation.”

He whirls around, ignoring the interruption like a true professional. “—and I endured it all. You know why?”

You blink, smile faltering just a little. “…Why?”

He points at himself with both hands. “So no other guy gets to just—” and then he pauses, looking utterly offended as he motions vaguely in your direction like your entire existence is too holy to even describe, “—all of this. Absolutely not.”

You burst out laughing again, nearly falling off the couch. “So you’re telling me… you suffered through my sass just so one day you’d have exclusive rights to my bikini waxes?”

He stops pacing. Blinks. Tilts his head. “…Yes.”

You’re on the floor now, actually wheezing. “That is the dumbest, most romantic thing I’ve ever heard.”

He huffs, hands on his hips. “You think I was gonna let gentle hands the rsthetician waltz in and touch what I’ve literally bled on the soccer field for?! My prize?!”

You gasp between giggles. “Your prize?!”

He crosses the room in two long strides, grabs a blanket, and tosses it over your head like he’s done with your chaos. “Court is adjourned. You’re in timeout.”

You peek out, still laughing. “You’re ridiculous.”

He sits beside you, smug and slightly red in the ears, arm slung over the back of the couch. “You love me.”

You nudge him with your foot. “Unfortunately.”

He turns, eyes gleaming. “So… there was no Gentle Hands?”

You grin, leaning close. “No Gentle Hands.”

He exhales in relief, then squints. “It was a woman, right?”

You pause. Then smirk. “Nope. It was a robot. Future tech. Laser hands. Very gentle. Super efficient.”

His mouth opens. Closes.

“…You’re sleeping on the floor.”

“Still worth it.”

Like most couples, you do get into arguments. Like today, it started with something dumb. Most of your fights do.

Something about the laundry. Or his wet towel being on the bed again. Or you leaving your half-full coffee mugs in random corners of the apartment.

The kind of thing that escalates not because it matters, but because you’re both Leos. Two overly dramatic, overly expressive, overly passionate fire signs locked in a tiny apartment with too much pride and not enough chill.

So when voices rise, hands get flaily, and the “Oh, you’re really doing this right now?”s start flying you know it’s about to be one of those nights.

And true to form, neither of you backs down.

You huffed, “Fine,” and grabbed your blanket and stormed off to the couch like you were doing him a favor.

He stood in the kitchen, jaw clenched, arms crossed, mumbling under his breath like a sitcom husband—“Unbelievable. All this over a towel. A damn towel. I dried my hair with it, not set the apartment on fire—”

You waited, expecting the usual rhythm: you cool off, he cools off, one of you mumbles something semi-sincere and the other reluctantly folds.

But tonight? You were not folding.

And neither was he.

At least, not right away.

The night stretched on.

You laid stiff on the couch, scrolling your phone, blanket over your shoulder like a shield. You weren’t crying or anything this wasn’t that kind of fight. It was the principle of the thing. The stubborn Leo principle.

The apartment stayed quiet.

No footsteps. No fridge door. No sneaky tiptoeing into the living room to nudge your foot and say, “You coming to bed?”

Fine, you thought. Two can play this game.

But sometime past midnight, your eyes grew heavy. Your phone slipped from your fingers. You drifted off, frown still slightly on your face, curled up awkwardly on the too-narrow couch.

Seungcheol was in the bedroom, pacing. Definitely not sleeping.

He kept glancing at the door like it would open itself and you’d walk in, dramatic sigh and all, whispering, “It’s cold without you,” and make this easier.

But it didn’t.

And you didn’t.

Eventually, the silence started gnawing at him. That’s the thing about being mad at you, he always ends up missing you mid-argument. It’s infuriating.

He poked his head out, expecting maybe you’d moved… but no. There you were.

Blanket sliding off your shoulder, legs dangling off the couch, mouth slightly parted in sleep, as if the couch was the battlefield and you’d fallen mid-stand.

He sighed, ruffling his hair. “Of course you fell asleep out here. So dramatic,” he muttered.

But the worry was already creeping in.

He padded out, gently crouched beside the couch, and stared at your sleeping face for a second. Your lashes fluttered, cheek smushed against a throw pillow, face still in that half-pout from earlier.

God, you’re cute when you’re mad.

Even cuter when you’re fake-mad.

He reached out, brushing your hair back, voice low. “Hey. Come to bed.”

You didn’t move. Didn’t stir. Or maybe you were pretending not to hear him just to prove a point. You would.

He hesitated. Then sighed again. And finally he folded.

Like he always does.

He reached under you carefully, lifting you with practiced ease. You grumbled something incomprehensible and shifted in his arms, nose scrunching at the sudden movement.

He smiled. “Yeah, yeah. Keep acting like you don’t love me.”

You were still half-asleep, but your fingers curled into the fabric of his shirt like muscle memory.

By the time he tucked you into bed, blanket pulled over your shoulder just right, he pressed a kiss to your forehead, brushing his thumb over your cheek.

“Still mad at me?” he whispered, lips brushing your skin.

You mumbled something.

He leaned closer. “Huh?”

“I said,” you slurred, barely conscious, “don’t ever put a wet towel on the bed again.”

He choked out a laugh. “Yes, ma’am.”

And even as you dozed off again, triumphant in your victory he curled in beside you, grinning to himself because even when you're mad… you still ended up in his arms.

The room is dim, the only light a soft glow from the hallway spilling through the cracked door. You’re warm now, blanketed in more than just the comforter his arms wrapped around you, chest rising steadily beneath your cheek, steady and solid like home always is when it’s him.

You’re already half-asleep, body still limp from the move back into bed. You hadn’t even opened your eyes when he laid you down, just grumbled something about “sabotage” when he tried to take off your socks.

But even then, even with your pride still faintly bruised and your mouth pouting in sleep you stayed close. One leg draped over his, your fingers still tangled in the hem of his shirt like your body knew better than your ego.

And Seungcheol doesn’t say anything at first. He just stares at you in the quiet for a bit. Brushes your hair off your forehead. Watches your lips twitch and shift like you’re dreaming of arguing with him even there.

He sighs, but it’s not exasperated. It’s soft.

Then, his voice, low and warm in the stillness:

“I love you.”

You don’t respond right away, but he knows you heard it. Your brow twitches, lips parting like your brain’s slowly wading through sleep to send the message back.

And sure enough, a few seconds later, you murmur it hoarse and quiet, barely there.

“I love you too.”

It’s like breathing. Even after a stupid fight. Even after the eye-rolls and pettiness and temporary exile to the couch. It never changes.

You never sleep without saying it.

No matter how tired, no matter how stubborn, no matter who folded first it always ends the same way.

I love you.

He shifts a little, pulling you closer, nose brushing against your temple. “You were being impossible.”

You mumble into his shirt. “You left a wet towel on the bed.”

He chuckles. “So that’s what’s gonna haunt you in your sleep tonight.”

You nod, eyes still closed. “Every time I think about how damp the comforter felt, I lose a year off my life.”

He laughs again, pulling the blanket higher around you both. “You’re insane.”

“And you’re lucky.”

“Yeah,” he murmurs, kissing your forehead one last time before settling in beside you. “I really am.”

#fic #svt #seventeen #seventeen fic #seungcheol #choi seungcheol #svt imagine #svt fluff #svt boyfriend #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen scenario #seungcheol imagine #seungcheol scenario #seungcheol fluff #seventeen seungcheol #seventeen x reader #svt x oc

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joshujihan23 · 5 days ago

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makeout session headcannons w jeonghan? oh plssss its a need!!

Makeout Session! Jeonghan headcanons

as we all know, he is SUCH A TEASE. he will make it seem like you are yearning for him to just kiss you, but in fact he was playing mind tricks with you

he will go full on babying mode. just imagine him saying “aww does my baby want my kisses?” “have you been waiting for me all day?”

and somehow, you would fall for his tricks (i mean, who wouldn’t) leaving him feeling satisfied

he either pins you against any surface available, or places his hands on your waist to keep you steady. seeing you beneath him, breathing heavily from his teases, makes him fold IMMEDIATELY

he waits. he waits for you to lean in first, acting so desperately for him. he will definitely chuckle first, before giving into you.

unlike his cheeky personality, his kisses are always so sweet, and so gentle when he does it.

he’ll savour you for as long as he wants, playing with your tongue using his. he just enjoys your taste so much he doesn’t want to let go.

when your hands reach up to hold onto his shirt, be sure that he will definitely smirk through the kiss, mumbling something like “you want more? tell me baby.”

he’ll let go for a moment, staring at how breathless you were, and how swollen your lips were from the kiss. he’ll place his hand on your chin, rubbing your lips with his thumb, smirking even more with that teasing look of his.

and little did you know, he will dive right back in to continue the makeout session, because who said he was done tasting you?

i love yoon jeonghan tease me all you want.

#joshujihan23 #seventeen #svt x reader #svt #svt imagines #svt fluff #jeonghan #yoon jeonghan #svt jeonghan #hannie #jeonghan hcs #jeonghan x reader #svt hcs

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onlymingyus · 3 days ago

Text

White Blank Page (Teaser)

pairing; choi seungcheol (s.coups) x f reader

genre; smut (minor dni), angst, royalty AU, fairy tale spinoff

summary; You had met Prince Seungcheol of Tsornoia twice in your life and now you were going to be his wife. You would be queen and share in everything his life meant—the good and the bad.

content warnings; fairy tale au (snow white), royalty au, prince!seungcheol, princess!reader, prince!joshua, duke!jeonghan, butler!seungkwan, evil queen, evil stepmother, arranged marriage, dark themes, blackmail, attempted murder, poisoning, horses, falling off a horse, pregnancy, miscarriage, eating/drinking, alcohol, crying, fighting—this one reminds us that fairy tales aren't always happy.

smut warnings; unprotected sex, loss of virginity, fingering, oral, breeding kink (sue me its a cheol fic), crying from pleasure -- if there is something i missed let me know.

w/c; 1.5k (teaser) -- full fic with Patreon bonus 26.6k

song inspiration; white blank page - mumford and sons

a/n; thank you to @junkissed for proofreading. this fic kicked my ass i won't even lie. i love it but i am also happy to finally get it out to you. i enjoyed writing the beauty and the beast spin off for fatal trouble and this snow white spin off was just as interesting to write! thank you all for reading and being patient.

A white blank page and a swelling rage, rage You did not think when you sent me to the brink, to the brink You desired my attention But denied my affections, my affections

this fic will be released. 7/31 to read the full fic with the bonus now, subscribe to my patreon and click here

The paper felt like it weighed a ton in Seungcheol’s hands. It wasn’t that he didn’t wish or want to marry you, but this wedding seemed rushed. Neither the bride nor the groom had much say in how anything would take place, and Seungcheol had been giving very little opportunity to speak with you leading up to the day. In truth, he had only spoken to you a handful of times, and now, by the end of the day, you’d be his wife—his future queen.

The first time he had met you, neither of you were old enough to realize what your future would be. You were a cute girl dressed far too regal for your age. Despite being just two years younger than Seungcheol, you seemed so young and fragile in his eyes. Seungcheol had been raised to be strong of will and body; you had been raised to match the beauty that had been evident from the time you had been born.

“Be gentle with her. She isn’t your friend, Seungcheol. She is their princess. She may be your future bride.”

Seungcheol could remember turning his nose up at the idea. He had been far too young to care about a wife. He had wanted to play with you like he would with any of his other friends. It wasn’t until the two of you were running around the palace garden and you tripped, cutting your knee. That was when Seungcheol realized playing with a girl, especially a pretty princess like you, was different than playing with one of the rugged sons of a duke.

“Stop crying…”

Your eyes were wide as blood began to run down your leg towards your ankle. Big tears rolled down your cheeks, dripping onto the front of your dress. Seungcheol was beginning to panic. He had been told to be careful, and he had done the exact opposite.

“Please… You’re gonna get me in trouble, Princess. ‘M sorry!”

You attempted to suck back your tears, but the more you tried and the more that Seungcheol begged you to stop crying, the harder they fell. Moving to his knees, Seungcheol pouted before taking out his small handkerchief and tediously began cleaning the blood from your leg.

“Th–thank you.”

You had spoken through your tears. The sound of your shaky voice had almost broken Seungcheol’s heart. You really were as fragile and gentle as you seemed.

“Y/N!”

You and Seungcheol had looked towards the frantic voice. A boy of his same age had all but pushed Seungcheol out of his way and settled at your side. He was clearly upset, his fingers carefully checking your skin around the angry cut.

“What happened? What did you do to her?”

Seungcheol had started to speak and to defend himself when he found himself staring at you in surprise.

“Shua! No. I fell down. Prince Seungcheol didn’t do anything bad.” You had always had your big brother wrapped around your pinky. You were his only sibling and his pride and joy. “Don’t be mad, ‘kay? See, I’m not crying anymore.”

It was difficult for Seungcheol or Joshua to hide their smiles as you wiped your wet cheeks and smiled so sweetly to prove your point.

“I—you gotta be more careful, Y/N. You got blood on your dress…” Joshua’s brows had furrowed, concern deeply written in his eyes as he helped you stand. “My—Prince Seungcheol, look, I’m sorry. It’s my job to watch her, and then I heard her crying. Our dad would literally kill me if somethin—”

“I get it. You don’t have to apologize to me. I—” Meeting your pretty eyes, Seungcheol cleared his throat and sighed into his words. “I wouldn’t ever hurt her on purpose…”

Seungcheol had meant those words, and he had kept that promise into the second meeting with you. He had just turned 19, and you were truly the belle of the ball. He had moved past childish notions of how he felt about girls, and you—you had taken his breath away.

“Good evening, Princess.”

Your smile was the same, just like your eyes. You were kind. Your kingdom loved and cherished you. Many other kingdoms had begun showing interest, and once again Seungcheol’s parents reminded him that you might be his queen one day. It all seemed so silly at the time. He wasn’t anywhere close to being ready to marry, and yet as he looked at you in a grand ballroom, he considered it.

“Prince Seungcheol. It’s an honor to see you again.” You weren’t lying. You had thought about Choi Seungcheol many times over the years, and as you grew up, his face had stayed with you. “Though you are much bigger than the last time we met.”

Just like your smile, your laugh was sweet and melodic. It was the type of sound that made Seungcheol’s heart tighten. He found himself wanting to hear it again, as often as possible. Laughing quietly into his own words, Seungcheol offered you his arm, allowing him to guide you towards the dance floor. “I—well, yes. I’ve grown, as have you.” He knew it was bold, but a sense of pride was flowing through him like waves of light as bright as your smile. “I mean, you’ve grown in beauty, though surely you know.”

You felt eyes on you and Seungcheol as you let him lead you to the middle of the floor. His attention was like standing next to an open flame. No matter where you looked, you always found yourself drawn back to his dark brown eyes. “Oh… I—thank you. I’m not sure I would say that about myself. I’m merely comm—”

“There is nothing common about you, Y/N.”

It was the first time he had called you by your name. The sound of it on his lips was enough to leave you breathless. You weren’t a fool. You knew what you meant to the princes of the surrounding kingdoms, but this was Choi Seungcheol of Tsornoria. You were common compared to him—everyone was. “You are too kind, your highness. You flatter me.”

Seungcheol found himself that day wondering if your cheeks would be hot to the touch after receiving his compliments. You were so endearingly shy. It was obvious how innocent you still were, and yet Seungcheol dared to test his limits with you. He had lifted his hand and brushed away the hair on your cheek; to his pleasant surprise, your skin was as warm as it would be if you had been sitting by a fire.

“Perhaps, but it’s not a lie. Are you not aware of how many other princes here are plotting my demise at this moment?” Amused with your reaction, how you scanned the room looking for danger, Seungcheol laughed softly and carefully grasped your waist, leading you with the music. “I mean that every man in this room wishes they were in my place. They wish they were the one dancing with you.”

You weren’t so naive that you didn’t know what this ball was for. You were coming of age in a few short years, and soon negotiations would begin. You would be marrying someone in this room, the thought of which terrified you—until you met Seungcheol’s eyes again. “Perhaps. But I chose to dance with you.”

Since that day, Seungcheol had known that this might eventually happen, but things were different. It had been close to ten years since that ball, and suddenly overnight it was real. Seungcheol wanted to be happy, perhaps even excited about this marriage, but something was nagging him in the back of his head.

For the past few years, different arrangements had been in the works. He had lost any hope that you would end up his bride, but each one of the arrangements had failed. It had all started after his father passed away and he became the crown prince. His mother—his stepmother, the queen—had taken over for his father, and Seungcheol’s life was turned on its head.

“I want this entire hall prepared for the Hong family. It’s of utmost importance!”

Seungcheol could feel the beginnings of a headache behind his eyes, and the sound of his stepmother’s voice only made it worse. She had fought so many of the previous arrangements to just suddenly change her mind when your family had finally accepted.

It wasn’t exactly hidden how much money she had spent since her husband’s death. The kingdom was suffering for her indulgence, and its only saving grace was that Seungcheol was going to take his place at the throne. Once he took his birthright, he would have access to the money that was left to him by his father—money that his stepmother would never have the right to while he was breathing.

Now the fact that Seungcheol was standing around with his head in his hands only fueled his stepmother’s annoyance. He had a job to do. There may not have been much, in her not-so-humble opinion, that Seungcheol was good at, but at least he had his father’s looks.

“Choi Seungcheol!”

READ THE ENTIRE FIC NOW

#seungcheol smut #scoups smut #seventeen smut #svthub #svt smut #seungcheol angst #seungcheol fluff #seventeen angst #scoups angst #scoups fluff #seventeen fluff #seungcheol x reader #scoups x reader #seventeen x reader #teaser

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starlightxsvt · 13 hours ago

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Scars Leave a Beautiful Trace | c.sc (teaser)

synopsis ➳ ❝an arranged marriage with the man the entire land is afraid of. the man with a crimson eye. they call him the grim reaper. cold, ruthless, unforgiving. yet you are drawn to him, curious to see the man hiding behind the cold hard exterior. and the man behind is hauntingly beautiful but your forever with him is not promised.❞

pairing ➳ husband general!seungcheol/ x wife noblewoman!reader

genre ➳ historical romance (joeson era), angst, pining, smut.

wc ➳ 25k (apx, i'm still writing)

a/n: yes ik, a very original title (🤡) but what can I say, I love this ost and it goes really well with the fic!

“Daughter, this is General Choi Seungcheol, your betrothed. Greet him properly,” your father commands softly, his eyes trained on you.

Your breath stutters in your chest.

Whether from the loaded tension in the air, the silence of the room or your future husband’s penetrating eyes on you, you are unsure.

His eyes…

You saw them once, a long, long time ago, and you remember them in explicit detail because they are heterochromatic. His right iris is red, a shade of fiery crimson that is scary but also hypnotizing— a stark contrast to his left iris, which is pure black.

You wish it were only his eyes that were lethal. Unfortunately for you, it is his presence itself. It is the way he silently sits there, poised and alert, holding his sword in his right hand and softly drumming his left index finger on his knee, as if telling you to hurry up. It is the way his face remains unreadable, a porcelain white canvas containing a pair of eyes fiercer than a mountain lion's, a sharp nose that is slightly crooked on the left, and pink lips that are pressed in a thin line. The most daunting of it all, the scar on the right side of his face, just below his eye and on top of his cheekbone. It is no more than a couple of inches long, but the gash looks deep, even after it has healed and imagining the pain behind that curse rakes shivers down your spine.

Finally, you snap out of your reverie.

With a shaky exhale, you bow down and speak as humbly as possible. “Please accept my greetings, my lord. It is a pleasure to meet you.”

RELEASE DATE: August 1, 2025

(take the release date with a grain of salt, there's still a lot of writing and editing left)

[also no taglist folks, this app starts acting up whenever I do it. sorry!]

#scoups smut #seventeen smut #scoups x reader #scoups fluff #seventeen #seventeen imagines #svt imagines #seventeen fluff #svt fluff #seventeen angst #seungcheol smut #seungcheol scenarios #kpop smut

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shuastar · 4 days ago

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99.9% (jww - 10 years' love)

pairing: wonwoo x reader genre: angsty fluff?? idk... murky relationship between wonwoo & you but also established relationship ... idk a/n: i like my angsty fics (99.9% is one of my favorite songs in the album ㅠㅠㅠㅠ) 10th ANNIV. TAGLIST FORM HERE

masterlist | hoshi | woozi

The wind bites at his skin, but he doesn’t move.

The street below him is empty — no cars, no footsteps, just the distant hum of city lights and the unbearable silence that sits between him and the front door you haven’t opened yet. The open-air hallways of your apartment complex is empty too, the only light blinking on and off.

He presses the intercom again, thumb hovering after it clicks.

Nothing.

His heart is pounding. Not from nerves — he’s long passed that. This is something worse. A dull ache, like the kind that settles behind the ribs when you’ve been waiting too long for someone to come home.

“Y/N,” he says softly, leaning into the mic. “I’m not asking for all of it.”

His breath fogs in front of him. Still no answer.

He can see through the small window by your door. A light’s on. Curtains sway faintly. He swears he sees your shadow move behind it — quickly, like you’re trying not to be seen.

So you are home.

He swallows, lips chapped. His voice lowers, barely more than a whisper now.

“All I’m asking for is for you to take one step toward me.”

He lets out a breath.

“Just... 0.1 percent.”

It’s pathetic, maybe. But honest.

He came here without a coat. Just his hoodie and the hope that maybe — maybe this time — you’d meet him halfway.

Or at least lean out the window. Say his name. Say anything.

Because he’s already done the 99.9%.

He showed up when you told him not to.

Held you when you cried about someone else.

Left when you asked him to — even though every single fucking part of him wanted to stay.

And still, he’s here.

Tonight.

In the cold.

Stupidly in love.

He lowers his gaze. “I’ll go, if you want me to.”

His fingers curl into his sleeves. “I just thought maybe... maybe you felt it too.”

For a second, everything is still.

And then —

The click of a door unlocking.

He freezes.

From the small window by your door, he sees your entrance way light flicker on, casting a soft glow on your face. And then the door opens. Slowly. Carefully.

You step outside, blanket wrapped around your shoulders, eyes wide and tired.

“You’re going to get sick,” you say, voice raw.

He lifts his eyes to you. And smiles — small. Hopeful. Just barely.

“Then I’m glad you opened the door before I did.”

Silence lingers — not heavy this time, just full. Of things unsaid. Of seconds stretched between stubborn hearts.

“I didn’t think you’d wait,” you murmur, stepping closer. “I didn’t think you still…”

He exhales a laugh — soft, disbelieving. “I always wait for you.”

You don’t touch him. Not yet. But your hand brushes against his as you stand beside him, close enough to feel how cold his fingers are.

And you finally look up, eyes glossy.

“Come inside, woo.”

It’s just three words. Small. Simple.

But it’s 0.1%.

And for Wonwoo — it’s everything.

ˋ°•*⁀➷ taglist

@gyuhao365 ; @livelaughloveseventeen ; @professionalcaratdeobi ; @mrsjohnnysuh

#seventeen #seventeen fluff #seventeen angst #wonwoo #wonwoo fluff #wonwoo angst #gia's series fics #10years' love !!#wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo #seventeen x reader #seventeen fic

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woozisprincess · 5 days ago

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Joshua as like a really mean soft dom.

Smut, dacryphillia, edging, fingers, penetration, degrading, unprotected (sleeve that pickle), after care, fluff at the end

Like he will give you exactly what you want, but you have to give him a clear answer or else he's just going to do what he wants.

He'd kiss and squeeze you until you're whining, and when you ask him for more, he plays dumb.

"What, baby? Do you want something?" He'd look at you with those big eyes of his, his brows furrowed, feigning ignorance.

One hand would be holding your face, the other on your thigh. So close to where you want him, but not quite.

"Please?"

"Please what? Use your words like a good girl." And he be smiling the entire fucking time.

When he finally gives you his fingers, he won't let you cum. Edging you over, and over again, until you're crying.

"Why you crying, baby?" He'd taunt you.

When you don't give him a coherent response, Joshua pulls his fingers out causing you to cry out. He'd lick your essence from his fingers, all while keeping eye contact with you. And that would be what made you snap.

You grab him by the collar, pulling his face close to yours. "Joshua Hong, if you don't fuck me right now!"

Upon receiving your direct request, Joshua quickly obliges. He tugs off his shirt, tossing it to the side.

"No need to be so aggressive, baby." He chuckled. "You could've just told me."

You had half a mind to curse him out, but then he was fucking you so good that you couldn't even remember why you were mad in the first place.

But don't think the teasing stopped there. No. The more incoherent you were, the more Joshua liked to degrade you.

"Look at you, baby. Can't even think straight, can you?" He whispers into your ear as his hips grind into you. As expected, he got no answer. Only murmured curses and chants of his name could escape your lips. This only spurred him on.

"I love how dumb you get when I fuck you. Is my dick that good? Turns such a smart girl into just another fuck doll?"

'Yes yes yes. Oh God yes.' You think something similar to that left your lips, but you weren't sure. But you were sure of that knot inside of you growing. So close, you were so fucking close.

Now Joshua wasn't dumb enough to pull out now, you might actually rip his fucking head off. But he still has his fun.

"You gonna cum for me, baby?" He kisses along your jaw, and down your neck. "Gonna make a mess on me?" Then he switched up his thrust. He went a little slower, dragging his cock along your walls in a way that has your breath catching in your throat. Then he snaps his hip back in. Effectively delaying your climax, and prolonging your pleasure.

"Fuck Josh!" You moaned out. And here come the water works again.

At some point in your relationship, Joshua has to admit that he really enjoys the crying. It's not his fault you look so pretty with tears streaming down your face. It was then that Joshua realized that he was going to lose it. Your pussy wrapped around him, the tears streaming down your face, the way you cried his name like a prayer. Yeah, it was bad. So he let his senses take over.

He drilled into you, fast and hard. And with all the edging, it didn't take long for you to reach your climax. Your nails dug into his back as the waves of pleasure wracked through you. Joshua was obsessed with the way you squirted around his cock. He fucked you through your orgasm, and soon he reached his. He buried himself to the hilt, and released inside of you. He'd thrust a few more times just to see your combined fluids gushing out of you.

And then, almost like a switch flipped in his head, he was back to your normal, doting Joshua. He'd run you a hot bath and help you wash up. Then he'd change the sheets and wrap you in the fresh blankets. He peppers loving kisses all over your face and tells you how much he loves you, how much he adores you, and that he's so grateful to have you. Then a soft, slow kiss on your lips that makes you a little dizzy.

"You're my everything." He whispers between kisses. "My whole world."

(⁠*⁠＾⁠3⁠＾⁠)⁠/⁠～⁠♡

An: this was supposed to be just a thought but yk...

Thank you for reading, please lmk if you like it! Or if you didn't! Ion care!

Reblogs and comments highly appreciated! Lots of love!

#joshua hong #joshua #seventeen fanfic #seventeen smut #seventeen #seventeen fluff #svt ff #svt smut #svt fluff #joshua smut #joshua fluff #seventeen ff #drabble #headcanon

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ssentimentals · 1 day ago

Note

heeey, hope u're doing fine 💗 i'd like to see your thoughts for prompt 4 + wonwoo (thank u so much in advance)

heeey dearest, i'm all good, how are you? thank you for requesting this funny prompt! 💜

prompt: 'ibuprofen and redbull is not breakfast.'

'are you alri-'

'i'm up, i'm up!' you startle, jumping on the chair and almost falling from it if it weren't for wonwoo's steady hand on your back. 'i wasn't sleeping!'

'right.'

his deadpan tone makes you pause. you blink, rub your eyes and blink again, taking in the surroundings. it's still your living room and your notes for the exam are still open right in front of you. only now there's bright sunlight peeking from the curtains and you're pretty sure it was past four am when you decided to take a small break from your studies. with a sinking feeling of dread settling in your stomach you ask: 'what time is it?'

wonwoo walks past you, dropping few supermarket bags on the table. 'almost nine am.'

you squint at him and he squints back, because he's an idiot and also because he knows that his squinty face never fails to make you laugh. you completely miss the fond look he sends you as your shoulders shake with silent laughter. 'god, you look so ugly when you do that, woo.'

'you're not winning miss universe with that face either,' he fires back with no malice, grinning when you laugh again. he then turns his attention to the bags he brought: 'breakfast?'

'no, i'm good. i ate something before falling asleep.'

'not for dinner, i'm talking about breakfast,' wonwoo corrects, looking up. 'and ibuprofen and redbull is not breakfast.'

you glance at empty can of the energy drink next to you. yeah, you're not proud but hey, you're also not the one who decided to put three exams in a one day, so. 'do not judge my coping mechanisms!'

'i am judging. hard.' wonwoo says dryly, corners of the mouth quirking up when you giggle. this sound might be his favorite one. 'anyways, breakfast? i got your favorite bagels from the bakery down the street and-'

'oooh, you love me!' you sing-song, getting up and running to his side, grinning from ear to ear. at the sight of a familiar drink you gasp: 'and my favorite coffee too? wonwoo, you really do love me.'

'i do,' wonwoo admits softly, too softly.

you don't notice though, digging through the bags and squealing at each new item you find. 'you are the best roommate i ever had, woo.'

'i'm the only roommate you ever had.'

'exactly!' you turn to him with a blinding smile that makes wonwoo's heart seize in his chest. 'and i don't ever want it to change.'

wonwoo wonders if you ever understand how it all looks from the side. if you ever pause to think of how the words you say sounds from the other side. if you ever sit and think of what you two have because- because wonwoo does. runs his mind with thoughts of you. maybe one day he'll be brave enough to confess, to take your hands in his and tell you that he cares more about you than he ever cared for anyone. that the sight of you early in the morning with sleepy eyes and messy hair makes him want to cry from how beautiful you are. that he'd buy you your favorite things just to see your smile, that your smiel is the reason of his good mood. for now though he settles on this: pulling out a chair for you, cutting your bagel in two because you hate when it's not cut and gently touchign up your forehead to check if you have a fever or not. when you look up at him, smiling, he smiles back.

'no fever, don't worry. thanks for the breakfast, woo!' you pat a seat next to you. 'come sit with me!'

'you're welcome,' wonwoo replies, obediently sitting next to you, smiling at the way your cheeks bunch up once you start eating.

'oh, this is so good. you really are a life savior, woo. always there when i need you.'

wonwoo exhales. god, do you ever- he pauses. inhales. exhales. it doesn't matter. he'll gain his courage soon. 'anytime,' he whispers, smiling. 'always'

a/n: it's my favorite FAVORITE trope to write thank you so much for requesting it!! i hope you loved it, uni student!wonwoo is my fav ever :') - nini

my other seventeen works are here

request your own here

#seventeen reaction #jeon wonwoo #wonwoo #seventeen wonwoo #wonwoo imagine #svt wonwoo #wonwoo x reader #jeon wonwoo x reader #seventeen imagine #seventeen fluff #seventeen x reader #svt x reader #seventeen prompt #jeon wonu #svt wonwoo x reader #wonwoo x you #wonwoo fluff #svt jeon wonwoo

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liuhsng · 16 hours ago

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─────⋆˚࿔ ⋆ sea, sex, and sun ( hjs & lsm ! ) — part 1

✩ˎˊ˗ seventeen masterlist (coming soon !)

⤷ pairing — joshua x fem!reader x dk

⤷ part 1 | part 2 ⤷ word count — 16.9k ⤷ permanent taglist — open !

⤷ a/n — wanted to try something new for a change—this is my first seventeen work so please be gentle ! hope you guys like it as much as i loved writing it. enjoy, loves 🤍

⤷ warnings — smut (minors dni), p in v, unprotected sex (wrap it before you tap it), idol au, idol!joshua, idol!dk, established relationship, threesome, oral sex (m receiving), fingering, creampie, breeding kink, manhandling, praise kink, light degradation (teasing), hair pulling, marking (hickeys), body worship, pool sex, fluff

✩ˎˊ˗ summary — being their girlfriend was supposed to feel like a dream—and it did. the soft moments, the luxury, the way joshua and dokyeom looked at you like you hung the stars. but no one warned you about how intense it could get. how their love came in whispers and wandering hands, in ruined sheets and breathless laughter. how one dinner under fairy lights could end with you gasping their names, their devotion spilling out in every kiss and every touch. it wasn’t just love—it was indulgence. and with them, you couldn’t help but want more. every single time.

The Maldives air was nothing like Seoul’s biting winter chill. Here, it was warm, fragrant with salt and faint coconut, a breeze so soft it felt like fingers trailing over your bare shoulders.

You sat in a secluded beachside restaurant near your villa, staring out at the vast stretch of ocean painted in soft shades of blue and white, sunlight dancing across the gentle waves.

The sky above was bright and cloudless, the breeze carrying the faint scent of salt and flowers as it tangled in your hair.

You adjusted the frills of your white halter top as it slipped from your shoulder, the thin straps tangling lazily around your arm.

A smile tugged at your lips as you let out a deep, content sigh. It was paradise. Peaceful. Almost too quiet compared to the chaos back in Korea.

The spell broke when a large, warm hand slid over your thigh, fingers splaying just above your knee. The heat seeped through the thin fabric of your long skirt, igniting goosebumps across your skin.

“What’s on your mind, baby?” Joshua’s voice was low, smooth like honey but edged with curiosity as he leaned closer. His brown eyes, softer than the Maldives sun, searched your face.

You blinked at him, lips parting slightly as your stomach fluttered—not from the scenery, but from him.

And from the man sitting across the table watching quietly, his sharp eyes flicking between your flushed face and Joshua’s hand on your thigh.

“Just breathing it all in,” you admitted softly, your fingers brushing over Joshua’s wrist where his hand lingered dangerously close to the inside of your thigh.

“It’s so different here. Like my body hasn’t caught up yet.”

Joshua’s lips curled into a knowing smile as his thumb traced slow circles over your skin.

“It’s a good thing we got you to agree,” he murmured, voice low and teasing.

“It was hard, you know.” His words were laced with something heavier, enough to make heat pool low in your belly.

Before you could even respond, a tongue click cut through the lazy sound of waves crashing in the distance.

“Shua’s right, angel,” came Dokyeom’s smooth voice as he leaned back against the table, his toned arms folding across his chest.

The sunlight from the open-air patio kissed his skin, making him glow golden as his eyes locked on you with a playful glint.

“I had to literally pull you off your laptop for you to even listen about this vacation.”

You sighed, lips pushing out into a small pout as you glanced at him from the corner of your eye.

Your fingers absentmindedly toyed with the rolled-up sleeves of Joshua’s crisp white button-up, right where the fabric stretched around his upper arm.

The soft cotton felt warm under your touch, heated from his skin, while his hand remained resting firmly on your thigh, thumb stroking in lazy circles that made it harder to focus.

Joshua’s brow arched, his hand squeezing your thigh with just enough pressure to make your breath hitch.

The warm weight of his palm didn’t leave, only inched slightly higher under the flowy fabric of your skirt.

“And how many times,” Joshua began slowly, his tone still soft but now edged with a dangerous kind of sweetness, “have we told you to quit that job?”

You opened your mouth to argue, but Dokyeom’s low chuckle made you snap your gaze back to him.

He shifted his weight against the wooden chair, arms still crossed as he added, “We know you love being independent, sweetheart.”

His eyes softened, but his words held firm resolve. “But all that job does is give you stress. Late nights, skipped meals, constant emails.”

Your brows knitted together, but before you could get a single word out, Joshua was already leaning in closer, his voice dipping, each syllable smooth and heavy like melted chocolate.

“Yes, baby,” he said, thumb stroking the sensitive skin just beneath your skirt. “We know you want your own source of income. And we’re proud of you for working so hard…”

His eyes flicked up to meet yours, gaze dark and stormy. “But isn’t that our job?”

You blinked at him, your pout deepening as heat prickled across your face—not just from embarrassment but from the way both of them were looking at you.

Joshua tilted his head slightly, smirking as his fingers squeezed your thigh again. “We’re not looking down on you. Never that. But wouldn’t it be nicer if you just laid back and let us handle everything? We could give you a more comfortable life, angel.”

“And spoil you rotten while we’re at it,” Dokyeom added smoothly, his smile softening into something more tender now as his eyes scanned over your pout.

“You wouldn’t have to lift a finger unless it’s to call room service or… you know.” His smirk returned at the double meaning, and your cheeks burned even hotter.

Joshua turned his head toward the younger man, rolling his eyes playfully as his hand gave your thigh an almost possessive squeeze.

“You horny fuck,” he muttered, though there was amusement in his tone.

You couldn’t help but laugh, the sound bubbling out of you as Dokyeom let out a scoff, tilting his head back with a grin.

“Oh, shut up,” he shot back, crossing his arms over his chest. “As if you haven’t been eyeing (Y/N) since before we even got off the plane.”

The playful accusation made your lips curl into a shy smile as you groaned and leaned your head against Joshua’s shoulder, seeking a place to hide your flushed face.

His crisp shirt smelled faintly of fresh linen and his cologne—warm, woodsy, and comforting. Your hands found their way on top of his lap, fingers tracing absent patterns over the fabric of his slacks.

Joshua’s arm wrapped around you instinctively, and he pressed a soft kiss to the crown of your head, careful not to disturb the half-up, half-down hairdo you’d spent minutes complaining about earlier in the villa.

“You two are the same,” you mumbled against his shoulder, your voice slightly muffled. “Horny fucks.”

That made Joshua chuckle lowly, the sound vibrating against your cheek as his thumb resumed slow, teasing circles on your thigh.

Dokyeom, on the other hand, let out a mock gasp, clutching his chest dramatically as if wounded.

“Excuse me?” he said, eyebrows shooting up. “And whose fault is that, huh? Who’s been walking around in tiny skirts and little tops, tempting us every chance she gets?”

You tilted your head just enough to shoot him a sly, knowing smile, your lips curving in that way that always made both men weak.

Before Dokyeom could say anything more, a waiter approached your table, carefully placing down the plates and pitcher.

“Your lobster, pasta, salad, and fresh mango juice,” the man said politely, arranging the cutlery before stepping away with a slight bow.

“Thank you,” Joshua said with a charming smile, his hand momentarily leaving your thigh to adjust your napkin on your lap like the gentleman he was.

Just as Dokyeom reached across the table, his fork poised to spear into your pasta, you hissed, “Hands off the food.”

He froze dramatically mid-motion as you quickly grabbed your handbag from the chair beside you, pulling out your phone and sleek little digital camera.

“Let me take a picture first,” you said firmly, unlocking your phone and adjusting the angle.

Dokyeom dropped his fork with a groan, throwing his head back. “Women…” he muttered under his breath, his tone exaggerated like he was in pain.

Your brow shot up instantly as you lowered your phone to stare at him, one brow arched high.

“Repeat that?” you asked sweetly, though your voice held a dangerous edge.

Dokyeom straightened in his seat like a scolded child, his grin returning in full force. “Nothing,” he said quickly. Then with a softer tone, he added, “I love you, angel.”

Your lips twitched in amusement as Joshua chuckled beside you, his hand back on your thigh now, thumb tracing higher this time—just enough to make your stomach flip.

You hummed, trying to refocus as you angled your phone and snapped another quick photo of the lobster and pasta, the sunlight catching on the glossy sauce, and the pitcher of mango juice glistening with condensation.

“Okay,” you said finally, setting your phone and camera aside with a satisfied little nod. “Let’s eat.”

You turned your head slightly, catching Joshua watching you with that soft, knowing smile that never failed to make your chest warm.

“You too, Hong. Hands off,” you teased, gently tapping the back of his wrist where his hand still rested on your thigh.

He laughed, the sound low and warm, his hand reluctantly sliding away as he leaned in to press a light kiss to your cheek. The tender brush of his lips made you smile despite yourself.

“Okay, okay,” Joshua said, holding his hands up in mock surrender as he leaned back in his chair.

“I concede. For now.” His gaze lingered on you for a second longer, that subtle glint in his eyes promising he wasn’t letting you off that easily later.

“Send those to me later,” Dokyeom chimed in with a grin, nodding toward your phone.

He was already reaching for his utensils, clearly eager to dive into the meal.

You rolled your eyes playfully, shaking your head as you grabbed your own fork and knife.

“Men,” you muttered with a dramatic sigh, earning a soft chuckle from Joshua beside you.

Dokyeom only smiled wider, unbothered, and shrugged his broad shoulders. “What can I say? Guilty as charged, angel.”

Joshua smirked, resting his chin in his palm as he watched you cut into the pasta with practiced ease. “He’s not even pretending to be subtle anymore.”

“Like you are?” you shot back, raising a brow at him.

His grin widened, one hand reaching out briefly to brush a loose strand of hair away from your face. “Touché, baby.”

You smiled softly at him before finally twirling some of the pasta around your fork, bringing it to your lips.

The moment you took a bite, your eyes fluttered shut as the rich, buttery flavor of the lobster and perfectly al dente pasta exploded across your tongue.

“Mmm,” you let out a quiet moan of delight without even realizing it, completely lost in how heavenly it tasted.

Dokyeom, who had leaned over to steal a piece of lobster off one of the plates, froze mid-bite as his head snapped toward you. His brows arched high, a mischievous grin already threatening to form.

But before he could say anything, Joshua shot him a sharp glare across the table, his jaw tightening just slightly as if silently warning him ‘don’t you dare.’

Dokyeom tried—to hold back, but the smirk was already tugging at his lips.

He leaned back in his chair, still chewing as he drawled teasingly, “Baby, is it really that good?”

You blinked at him, cheeks warming as you nodded eagerly, swallowing your bite. “It really is,” you said, your voice bright and innocent despite the way his eyes stayed locked on you. “Here—try it.”

Twisting another small portion onto your fork, you reached it across the table toward Dokyeom.

He leaned in, lips parting slightly as he let you feed him. His eyes widened the second the taste hit his tongue, and he nodded approvingly.

“Okay,” Dokyeom said, his grin widening. “Now I get it. That’s insane. But—” his tone dipped lower, teasing, “I think it’s partly how cute you look feeding me.”

You rolled your eyes with a soft laugh, turning back to your plate only to find Joshua watching you closely.

His expression was unreadable—his eyes dark, half-lidded as they tracked the way you swirled more pasta onto your fork. It made you pause for a beat, the air around you thickening.

Blinking up at him from under your lashes, you asked softly, “Want some, baby?”

The corner of his mouth twitched as he leaned back slightly, nodding once. “Yeah.” His voice was calm, almost too calm, as his eyes didn’t leave yours.

You swallowed lightly, reaching up to feed him the bite. Joshua held your gaze as his lips closed around the fork, and when he pulled back, he hummed in quiet approval.

“Yeah, it does taste good.”

Then he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear as he whispered lowly so only you could hear, “But you taste better.”

Your breath hitched. Heat shot straight to your face, your hand faltering slightly as you set your fork down and tried to regain composure.

“Joshua Hong,” you muttered in a flustered tone, turning back to your plate as if focusing on the food would hide the way your face was burning.

Dokyeom, who had been mid-bite again, froze with his jaw dropped.

“Unbelievable,” he said flatly, staring at Joshua like he’d just witnessed a crime. “I—are you hearing yourself? At a restaurant?”

Joshua didn’t even flinch. Instead, he raised a brow coolly, leaning back slightly in his chair as his hand remained lazily draped on your thigh.

“You’re one to talk. You were about to say something way worse, weren’t you?”

Dokyeom’s lips parted like he was about to argue, but then he paused, his eyes darting to the side as if trying to think of a decent comeback.

Realization hit, and he only sighed, shrugging with a sheepish grin. “Okay… yeah, you’re right,” he admitted.

That made you burst out laughing, your hand coming up to cover your mouth as your shoulders shook.

“Oh my God,” you giggled, looking between the two of them like you couldn’t believe you were stuck at a table with these men.

“Can you two please keep it in your pants for at least two minutes?”

They exchanged a knowing glance, a shared grin pulling at both of their lips before they turned back to their plates with soft chuckles.

“No promises,” Joshua murmured under his breath, just loud enough for you to catch.

You groaned quietly, dropping your gaze to your plate in a feeble attempt to ignore the heat crawling up your neck.

But your composure threatened to crack completely when Joshua’s hand on your thigh moved, his thumb brushing dangerously higher.

Your breath hitched. He, on the other hand, remained infuriatingly nonchalant—his free hand lazily poking at his own pasta as if nothing was out of the ordinary.

He twirled a bite of linguine around his fork, bringing it to his lips with an elegance that contrasted starkly with the way his fingers squeezed your thigh under the table.

“Joshua…” you whispered his name softly, half a warning, half a plea, but he didn’t so much as glance your way.

“Hm?” he hummed absently, chewing thoughtfully as his eyes flicked to the waiter walking past.

He raised a hand to call him over smoothly, his thumb brushing another teasing circle into your skin. “Excuse me?” he said politely when the waiter approached.

“Yes, sir?”

“We’ll have an order of shrimp, please,” Joshua said casually, his tone light and polite, like his hand wasn’t currently trying to make you squirm under the table.

You sighed in resignation, leaning slightly toward him as you fiddled with your napkin.

“Can you order crab cakes too?” you murmured, glancing up at him with a soft pout.

That finally earned you his attention. Joshua turned his head, his eyes crinkling with a tender smile as he brushed his thumb briefly over the back of your hand resting on the table.

“Of course, baby,” he said warmly, before looking back at the waiter. “And an order of crab cakes as well, please.”

“Right away, sir.” The waiter gave a small bow and disappeared, leaving you alone again with Joshua’s hand still high on your thigh.

You released a soft sigh, glaring at him playfully as you tried to focus on your meal. “You’re the worst.”

Joshua smirked, his eyes dropping briefly to your lips before he returned to his food.

“And yet…” His thumb traced one last circle over your thigh skin, his voice dipping low and velvety. “…you’re still leaning into me like you don’t want me to stop.”

The soft afternoon light filtered through the bathroom’s wide glass panels, painting everything in hues of gold and cream as the sound of waves crashing faintly echoed in the distance.

You stood in front of the mirror, now clad in a flimsy black two-piece swimsuit, though your long white skirt still hung low on your hips like a cover-up.

The delicate fabric swayed slightly with every movement, revealing glimpses of the matching bikini bottoms peeking out from beneath.

The top, however, was long discarded somewhere in the villa, leaving you in nothing but the skimpy swimwear and a golden flower clip holding your hair up in a messy yet elegant twist.

You were carefully curling your lashes, lips pursed in concentration.

Beside you, Joshua stood shirtless at the double sink, a white towel slung loosely around his neck as he shaved with calm precision.

His dark hair was damp from his earlier shower, stray droplets trailing down the toned planes of his chest and disappearing into the waistband of his black lounge shorts.

You leaned back from the mirror with a small sigh, fingers reaching up to gently tap at the slightly smudged edge of your eyeliner.

“Ugh,” you muttered under your breath, clicking your tongue in annoyance.

Turning away from the mirror, you reached for your makeup bag resting near the sink and started rummaging through it for your eyeliner and concealer.

Joshua glanced at you from the corner of his eye, a teasing smile tugging at his lips as he wiped the remaining shaving cream from his jaw.

“You look like you’re about to murder someone,” he said casually, grabbing his facial wash and squeezing some into his palm.

You froze for a second before your head snapped in his direction, one perfectly arched brow raised in mock offense.

Holding up your eyeliner like a weapon, you pointed it straight at him, your lips curving into a dangerous little smirk. “Do you want to be the first victim?”

Joshua chuckled, rubbing the wash gently across his face in smooth, circular motions. The corners of his eyes crinkled as he shot you a look in the mirror.

“As much as I love you…” he drawled, rinsing his hands under the warm water. “No thanks.”

You rolled your eyes with a dramatic sigh, finally pulling out your concealer and setting it on the counter.

“Coward,” you teased, your voice light with amusement as you leaned closer to the mirror again.

Joshua’s laughter filled the room, soft and warm as he grabbed a fresh towel and patted his face dry. “Maybe,” he said, “But if you’re looking for a victim, I think Dokyeom’s volunteering as tribute.”

You snorted, shaking your head as a small laugh escaped your lips. “Oh really?” you said, turning slightly toward Joshua with your eyeliner in hand, ready to retort—

—but before you could get a word out, the bathroom door swung open with a faint creak, and in strolled Dokyeom, fresh from his own shower in the guest bathroom.

His damp hair was still tousled from the towel he’d half-heartedly run through it, stray drops of water trailing down his chest to where a white towel hung dangerously low on his hips.

“Tribute to what?” he asked casually, eyebrows quirking as his gaze flicked between the two of you.

A sly smile tugged at your lips as you turned fully toward him, one hand resting on the counter as your golden clip caught the light.

“Murder,” you replied sweetly, your voice laced with faux innocence.

Dokyeom let out a deep laugh that made your stomach flip, shaking his head as he stepped closer. “Murder, huh? Guess I walked in at the right time.”

Before you could stop him, he closed the distance and wrapped his arms loosely around your waist from behind, his bare chest pressing against your back.

You let out a small whine at the sudden coolness of his damp skin soaking into your bikini top and the waistband of your white skirt.

“Kyeom—” you pouted, squirming slightly in his hold. “You’re wet.”

His laughter rumbled against your shoulder as he held you for just a second longer before pulling back with a teasing grin. “Sorry, angel. Couldn’t resist.”

Rolling your eyes fondly, you turned back to the mirror as he moved to stand beside Joshua, who had been watching with an amused expression.

Joshua handed over the can of shaving cream wordlessly, still toweling the last bit of moisture from his jaw.

“Where’s my razor?” Dokyeom asked, glancing at the counter as he spread the cream onto his palm.

Joshua nodded toward the sleek black one resting next to his own silver-handled razor. “Black one’s yours,” he said simply.

“Got it.” Dokyeom grinned, shaking his head slightly as he lathered his face. “Thanks.”

Joshua smiled faintly, turning his attention back to you for one last moment. He stepped closer, his hand finding the back of your head gently as he pressed a soft kiss to your crown, careful not to disturb your messy golden clip.

“Don’t take too long, baby,” he murmured, his breath warm against your hair. “Pool’s waiting.”

You hummed in acknowledgment, your lashes lowering as you smiled at the soft gesture.

With that, Joshua stepped out of the bathroom, the faint rustle of fabric following as he moved toward the bedroom to change into his swim trunks.

You stayed at the counter, fingers brushing over your concealer tube again as Dokyeom hummed a low tune beside you, razor in hand as he studied himself in the mirror.

Dokyeom’s gaze flicked to you in the mirror, watching as you grabbed your blush brush and a highlighter palette, tapping it gently.

“Is that the swimsuit I got you?” he asked, his voice casual but tinged with curiosity as he rinsed the blade under the faucet.

You shook your head with a small smile, sweeping a soft coral blush across your cheeks. “Nope. It’s the one I bought in Madrid last year.”

He hummed knowingly, a grin tugging at his lips as he went back to his shaving. “Oh yeah… but the one I got you? Way sexier.”

You snorted, patting the glittering highlighter across your cheekbones until your skin caught the light like sunlit water.

“It’s in one of my suitcases,” you admitted, nodding at the thought. “But it’s broad daylight, Kyeom… so.”

Dokyeom clicked his tongue in mock disappointment, setting the razor down for a moment as he turned his head slightly to check his work in the mirror.

“Oh, come on, angel. You’re depriving us,” he teased, his tone light but his eyes catching yours in the reflection, just long enough to make your stomach flutter.

You rolled your eyes fondly, reaching for your lip gloss next. The clear formula shimmered faintly as you smoothed it over your lips, finishing with a gentle press of your lips together.

Then you grabbed your setting spray, spritzing a fine mist over your face with a satisfied little sigh.

When you finally turned to him, your golden clip catching the light like a crown, you cocked your head slightly and asked with a playful grin, “How do I look?”

Dokyeom paused mid-motion, his hands resting on the counter as his eyes swept over you—taking in the black bikini peeking out from under your loosely tied skirt, your skin glowing softly under the golden light, and the glimmer of highlighter on your cheeks.

“Give me a little twirl,” he said suddenly, smirking.

You let out a laugh, rolling your eyes again but obliging with a playful spin, your skirt flaring slightly to reveal more of the matching bikini bottoms.

He let out a low whistle, shaking his head as his grin widened. “Have I ever told you how much I love you?”

You stepped closer to him, resting your hand lightly on his bare chest as you peered up at him with a teasing smile. “Every hour, yes. I’m very aware.”

Dokyeom laughed, the sound rich and warm as he leaned down to steal a kiss, his hands settling gently on your waist.

You smiled against his lips, your fingers splayed against his skin before you pulled back with a quiet laugh.

“Really, Kyeom?” you teased, giggling as you pointed to the faint sheen of gloss now smudged on his mouth.

He licked his lips with a grin, humming thoughtfully. “Is this… cherry?”

You nodded, still laughing softly as you patted his shoulder. “Yup. Now hurry up. Shua’s waiting in the pool, and I’m not in the mood to hear him yell our names across the villa.”

Dokyeom grinned boyishly, reaching for his towel to wipe off the last bit of water. “Fine, fine, angel. Go on ahead before he comes storming in here.”

You gave him a cheeky grin, running your fingers over the smooth counter one last time before walking out of the bathroom, your hips swaying slightly as the soft sound of your bare feet padded against the villa’s wooden floors.

You made your way to one of the plush beds. There, your phone and digital camera sat waiting atop a neatly folded towel.

You scooped them up carefully, your fingers brushing over the smooth metal of the camera as you adjusted your hold.

The glass doors leading to the private pool were already cracked open, letting in the warm scent of salt and frangipani.

A soft breeze swept through, lifting a stray strand of hair as you stepped outside, sunlight instantly kissing your bare shoulders.

Joshua was sitting at the edge of the pool, his toned back glistening faintly from the water. The soft sound of gentle waves lapping against the pool tiles mixed with the distant calls of seabirds.

“Hi, baby,” you called sweetly, your voice carrying across the open space.

Joshua turned slightly, a warm smile spreading across his face as you came up behind him.

“Hi there,” he murmured, his voice velvety as your fingers tangled into his damp hair, nails scratching lightly at his scalp.

He leaned into your touch for a moment before standing gracefully, water dripping from his black swim trunks to create little puddles at his feet.

You tilted your head up at him, a small giggle slipping past your lips when you caught sight of his wet shorts clinging to his thighs.

Joshua’s hands found your hips easily, his thumbs pressing into the soft flesh as he pulled you closer.

“Missed you already,” he teased, ducking down to press playful kisses all over your face—your cheeks, your nose, your jaw—his lips warm against your sun-kissed skin.

You laughed breathlessly, trying not to drop your camera as he finally captured your lips in a firm, lingering kiss. You melted into it instantly, returning his affection as his hands tightened slightly on your waist.

He hummed softly when he pulled away, the faint taste of cherry lip gloss still lingering on his tongue.

“Mmhm… cherry,” he murmured against your lips before stealing another quick kiss, and another, each one more intoxicating than the last.

“Joshua…” you whispered with a smile as you tilted your head back slightly, but he only smiled down at you before his lips began peppering a trail of kisses down your neck.

A soft sigh escaped your lips as one hand found its way back into his damp hair, your fingers tangling at the roots while the other clutched your camera and phone tightly against your chest.

“Baby,” you hissed quietly as his mouth found a particularly sensitive spot near your collarbone, his lips latching onto your skin with a teasing pull. “We’re outside…”

Joshua let out a low chuckle, his teeth grazing you lightly before pulling back just enough to meet your flustered gaze.

“So?” he asked smoothly, his tone laced with amusement. “We have a private villa for a reason.”

You huffed, trying to bite back your smile as you tapped his head lightly with your free hand.

“Shua, I need good pictures before you cover me in hickies,” you said pointedly, holding up the camera and phone in your other hand as proof.

He pulled back fully now, a playful pout tugging at his lips as his fingers brushed teasingly over the low waistband of your skirt.

“I never get to have any fun,” he muttered dramatically.

You smirked slyly, leaning up just enough to whisper, “If you’re lucky.”

That earned you a soft groan and an exaggerated eye roll from Joshua as he reluctantly released your hips. He gestured toward the sunny part of the deck with a resigned wave of his hand.

“Go on then, angel. Let me at least take those pictures before Dokyeom comes out here and steals the first shot.”

Grinning happily, you stepped into the light where the sun poured down, your skirt glowing faintly in the golden warmth as you adjusted your posture.

Joshua’s fingers wrapped around the camera, his long fingers deftly flipping it on as he peered through the lens.

“Stand still for me,” he instructed, his voice lower now, almost commanding as his thumb brushed over the shutter button. “That’s it, good girl.”

You posed easily, one hip cocked slightly as your fingers brushed against the loose fabric of your skirt. The golden clip in your hair caught the light, and Joshua hummed approvingly behind the camera, his eyes never leaving you.

Joshua snapped a few more photos, his finger effortlessly clicking the shutter as his smile lingered—soft, warm, completely captivated.

His eyes followed the way the golden light danced across your skin, the gentle sway of your skirt, the way the ocean breeze teased loose strands of hair around your face.

“I love you so much,” he muttered under his breath, barely realizing he’d spoken aloud as his thumb brushed over the camera’s dial to adjust the exposure.

You, still mid-pose with your weight shifted onto one leg, turned at the sound of his voice, a teasing smile curling on your lips.

“What was that, Mr. Hong?”

Joshua blinked, caught but not flustered, his grin growing sheepish. “Nothing, angel.”

You sauntered over, hand reaching out as your eyes sparkled with mischief. “Let me see.”

He lowered the camera obligingly, tilting the screen toward you as you scrolled through the images.

Each photo looked effortlessly perfect—the light hitting just right, your makeup glowing, your skirt moving like a whisper of fabric in the breeze.

“Oh wow,” you breathed, grinning in delight. “Shua, these are gorgeous.”

Your excitement made his chest swell, and before he could react, you leaned up on your toes and pressed a string of kisses across his cheek.

“I love you. Thank you,” you murmured softly, pulling back just enough to catch the way his eyes crinkled at the corners from laughing.

“I’ll take all the thank-yous you’ve got, baby,” Joshua teased, handing you back the camera with a fond smile.

You placed it gently on the bed inside before stepping back out onto the deck, catching sight of Joshua now holding your phone and snapping pictures of the ocean view—and occasionally of you when he thought you weren’t looking.

You laughed, shaking your head as you padded over. “You’re unbelievable.”

“Can’t help myself,” he said simply, slipping an arm around your waist as you moved in beside him.

He angled the phone slightly so you were in the frame, holding it out to capture the two of you.

“Smile for me, angel,” Joshua murmured near your ear as he pressed the shutter, taking several candid shots of you grinning up at him.

Just then, a familiar voice rang out from behind.

“Taking pictures without me? Really?” Dokyeom’s tone was half-indignant, half-playful as he stepped out of the villa.

His damp hair clung to his forehead, still slightly tousled from his shower, and his swim trunks sat low on his hips, a towel draped casually over his shoulder.

You rolled your eyes fondly but raised your hand, beckoning him over. “Then stop pouting and come here, Kyeom.”

He strode over with a grin, slipping effortlessly into place beside Joshua. His arm wrapped around your hips, fingers resting just below Joshua’s hand on your waist, the two of them standing shoulder-to-shoulder like they owned the world—and you.

“Now this is a picture,” Joshua murmured, smirking slightly as he turned the phone to selfie mode.

You giggled as they both leaned in, their warmth on either side of you making your heart flutter. “You two are ridiculous.”

“And you love it,” Dokyeom teased, his thumb brushing lightly over your skirt’s waistband as he glanced at you with a grin.

“Yeah,” you admitted with a laugh, squeezing in between them as Joshua snapped the photo. “I really do.”

The sun was warm but not unbearable as you lounged on one of the cushioned poolside chairs, your legs stretched out comfortably and crossed at the ankles.

The long white skirt you’d worn earlier lay forgotten at the foot of the chair, discarded an hour ago in favor of letting the sun kiss your skin.

A piña colada sat sweating on the small wooden side table beside you, the faint scent of coconut and pineapple sweet in the air.

A pair of designer shades rested on your face, shielding your eyes from the sharp rays as you flipped through the pages of your book, completely absorbed—well, as much as you could be with the sound of bickering echoing from across the pool.

“I’m telling you, Kyeom, my freestyle leaves you in the dust every time,” Joshua said with a smirk, resting his elbows casually on the edge of the medium-sized circular pool.

His wet hair clung messily to his forehead, droplets of water glinting in the sunlight.

Dokyeom splashed water in his direction with a scoff. “Please. I could outswim you blindfolded. Remember Jeju? I lapped you twice.”

“That was shallow water!” Joshua countered, his grin widening.

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you returned to your book, determined to tune them out.

It was pointless trying to break up their playful arguing—you knew they were only doing it to impress you anyway.

A low growl from your stomach, however, broke your concentration. You sighed, pushing your sunglasses down just slightly to glance over their frames at the two men.

“Do either of you want anything?” you asked, your tone casual but affectionate.

Joshua, still perched at the pool’s edge, turned his head to look at you with that infuriatingly knowing smirk.

“You,” he said smoothly, his wet fingers brushing slick hair back from his face.

You rolled your eyes, a fond smile tugging at your lips. “Real food, baby.”

Dokyeom, now floating closer to your side of the pool, paddled toward the edge and braced his toned arms on the tiles as he looked up at you.

Water streamed down his chest as he grinned. “A burger,” he said quickly, then added after a beat, “and fries.”

You nodded with a small chuckle. “Anything to drink?”

“Coke,” he said, his grin widening as he watched you tilt your head and mentally note the order.

Your eyes flicked to Joshua, who had now joined Dokyeom at the edge of the pool, standing beside him with his hands resting lazily on the tiles. He tilted his head slightly at your questioning look.

“Chicken,” he replied simply, still smirking. “You know the kind I like.”

“Of course I do,” you said softly, closing your book and setting it aside on the lounge chair.

As you stood, your hips swayed slightly as you reached for the phone, still sitting on the end table. You felt both their gazes lingering on your back as you made your way toward the villa’s sliding glass doors.

Joshua’s smile turned downright mischievous as he watched you go, his voice carrying easily over the sound of the water. “Offer still stands, baby.”

You let out a laugh, waving a hand dismissively over your shoulder as you entered the cool interior of the villa. “Behave,” you called back playfully, already scrolling through the villa’s room service menu as you sat down on the edge of the plush bed.

Behind you, you could hear Dokyeom bumping his shoulder lightly against Joshua’s in the water. “You’re insufferable, dude.”

Joshua chuckled, watching the way the sunlight caught in your hair as you disappeared into the room. “And you’re telling me you weren’t thinking the same thing?”

Dokyeom didn’t reply, but the grin he tried to hide spoke volumes.

You shook your head with a little smile as you pressed the room service button, tucking your legs under you on the edge of the plush bed.

“Yes, hi. Can I place an order for villa twenty-three?” you asked softly, twirling the cord of the phone absentmindedly around your finger as the operator answered with practiced cheer.

“A burger with fries and a Coke… a chicken platter, and could you also add a chicken salad and a mango shake to that, please?” You hummed as they repeated the order back, your nails drumming lightly on the bedside table.

“Yes, that’s perfect. Oh—yes, of course, take your time,” you said with a polite little laugh when they explained the kitchen was busy and it would take at least half an hour for the food to be prepared.

“No problem at all. Thank you so much.”

Hanging up, you slipped your phone back onto the bed and padded barefoot across the cool wooden floor toward the sliding glass doors.

The sun was still high, spilling golden light over the private pool where your boyfriends continued their playful splashing and arguing.

“They said it’ll take at least thirty minutes,” you called out as you stepped outside, shielding your eyes briefly from the bright sunlight.

“Fine by me,” Joshua replied smoothly, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as he floated lazily on his back. “I’m not that hungry yet anyway.”

You didn’t catch the quick glance exchanged between him and Dokyeom, the silent conversation passing between them. You were too busy noticing the sound of pages flipping near your chair.

“Angel,” Dokyeom called out, his voice teasing as his fingers toyed with the edges of the pool tile. “What’s so interesting about this book, anyway?”

You raised a brow at him, crossing your arms playfully. “It’s really good. Unlike certain people in this pool who have no taste for romance or depth.”

Joshua tilted his head as he treaded water closer to you, that boyish grin never leaving his face. “Then why don’t you join us instead?”

You groaned dramatically, adjusting the golden flower clip holding your hair in its messy updo. “No. You’ll both end up wetting my hair, and you know how long it takes to dry.”

Dokyeom laughed, swimming to the pool’s edge near you. “Come on. We promise we’ll leave your hair alone.”

You gave him a skeptical look, only for Joshua to add with a mischievous little shrug, “And if it does, I’ll be styling it for you before dinner. Deal?”

You paused, lips twitching in amusement at his confidence.

With a sigh of resignation, you set your book and sunglasses down carefully on the lounge chair. “Fine. But only because I want that dinner hair promise in writing, Joshua Hong.”

Joshua smirked as you stepped carefully into the pool, the cool water lapping against your calves as you let out a soft shudder.

“Cold,” you muttered, hugging your arms slightly as you waded further in until the water reached just above your waist.

“It’s not so bad,” Joshua murmured reassuringly, his hands sliding gently to rest in front of your hips as he smiled down at you. His thumbs traced slow, lazy circles against your bare skin, the heat from his palms in contrast to the water.

Behind you, Dokyeom’s presence closed in as he pressed a soft kiss to your bare shoulder, his lips warm and feather-light.

“It’s not even that cold, angel. Relax,” he whispered, his voice low as his hands skimmed lightly over your waist, fingers dipping beneath the surface of the water.

You let out a shaky exhale, your eyes flicking to Joshua in front of you.

He was watching you closely, his dark lashes still wet, droplets trailing down his jawline as he tilted his head with a knowing smirk.

“You’ve just been out in the sun too much. Enjoy some water, (Y/N),” he teased, the use of your full name making your brows rise.

“(Y/N)?” you echoed with a little laugh, your tone light but your body betraying you as a shiver—not entirely from the water—ran down your spine.

Joshua’s grin widened as he leaned in, his lips brushing over yours with maddening slowness. “Mmhm. Love hearing your name like that. Makes it sound like we’re about to ruin you.”

You didn’t get the chance to respond before his mouth claimed yours in a deep, slow kiss.

You sighed into it, your fingers tangling into his damp hair as his tongue traced over your bottom lip, coaxing a soft whimper out of you.

Behind you, Dokyeom’s hands splayed wider against your waist, thumbs rubbing languid circles against your heated skin as his mouth continued its assault on your neck.

He pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along the curve of your shoulder, teeth grazing just enough to make your breath catch.

A quiet sound slipped out of you—part sigh, part restrained moan—muffled against Joshua’s lips.

“Don’t hold back,” Joshua murmured against your mouth as he pulled back slightly, his eyes hooded, voice low and almost commanding. “Relax, baby. There’s no one around.”

His gaze flicked toward the beach below the pool deck as if to prove his point.

Sure enough, it was empty—the private stretch of sand untouched, the turquoise waves lapping quietly against the shore.

The other villas were far enough away that you could barely see them through the lush palms surrounding yours.

“No one can hear you, no one can see you,” Joshua continued, his lips ghosting over the corner of your mouth as his fingers trailed lower under the water, brushing teasingly against the ties of your bikini bottoms.

You felt your pulse jump as he toyed with the delicate strings, tugging lightly—not enough to loosen them, but enough to make your body heat flare.

“You’re so tense,” Dokyeom whispered into your ear, his voice a delicious rasp as his hands slipped from your waist down to your hips, fingers digging gently into the soft flesh there.

“Let us take care of you, angel. Just let go.”

Your fingers tightened instinctively in Joshua’s hair as your other hand reached back, curling around Dokyeom’s wrist to steady yourself.

Joshua leaned in again, capturing your lips with a little more urgency this time. His tongue slid past your lips in a slow, deliberate stroke, making your knees feel weak despite the water’s support.

“You taste sweet,” Joshua murmured as he broke the kiss briefly, only to nip at your lower lip before diving back in.

Dokyeom’s hands were moving lower now, fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your bikini bottoms under the water, his thumbs brushing over the curve of your ass as his teeth grazed that sensitive spot below your ear.

“You’re so warm,” Dokyeom murmured. “So perfect. Let us play a little before the food gets here, hmm?”

You exhaled shakily, your head tipping back slightly against his shoulder, feeling the wet heat of his chest pressing into your back.

Joshua’s dark eyes followed the movement, his lips quirking into a knowing smirk as he brushed a thumb tenderly across your parted lips.

“We have half an hour, baby,” Joshua murmured lowly, his voice dripping with amusement.

“Or you…” His words trailed off suggestively, and before you could even muster a response, you felt Dokyeom’s fingers tugging lazily at the side ties of your bikini bottoms beneath the water.

The gentle pull made the knot loosen slightly, not enough to undo it completely, but enough to make your stomach flip in anticipation.

Joshua’s hand slid higher, skimming the sensitive skin of your inner thigh beneath the water.

His thumb brushed featherlight over the delicate fabric of your bikini, grazing just close enough to make you gasp softly. He hummed in satisfaction at your reaction, his smirk deepening.

“Look at you…” Joshua said softly, his eyes locked on yours as his thumb began rubbing teasing circles over the thin barrier.

“We’re barely touching you and you’re already falling apart.”

You couldn’t even form words before his mouth was back on yours, claiming it in a kiss that was deeper, hungrier than before.

His tongue slid between your lips with practiced ease as you opened up for him, tasting faintly of piña colada and heat.

Your fingers dug into his wet hair, tugging him impossibly closer while your other hand clutched at Dokyeom’s arm behind you for balance.

Dokyeom’s hands didn’t stay idle either. They slid upwards with deliberate slowness, tracing the curve of your ribs until his fingers found the delicate ribbon securing the back of your bikini top.

With one swift tug, it loosened, the fabric slackening just enough for his palms to slide beneath it, cupping your breasts.

A broken moan tore from your throat into Joshua’s mouth as Dokyeom’s thumbs brushed over your nipples, rolling and pinching them with just enough pressure to make your knees weaken.

Joshua pulled back slightly, his lips shiny and swollen from the kiss as his dark gaze raked over your flushed face.

“Fuck, you’re beautiful like this,” he murmured, his hand still rubbing slow, torturous circles over your clothed core. “All flushed and trembling—just for us.”

Your hips jerked instinctively toward his hand, desperate for more friction, but he only chuckled darkly and pressed his palm firmer against you, the heat of it making your head spin.

“Needy already?” Joshua teased, leaning in to steal another kiss. “What happened to all that teasing earlier, hmm? Thought you could handle us, angel.”

Behind you, Dokyeom’s lips ghosted along your damp neck, teeth nipping lightly as he murmured against your skin. “She’s trying so hard to be good. Let’s help her out a little, yeah?”

His hands continued their slow ministrations, thumbs rolling your sensitive peaks while his fingers gently kneaded, the combination making you whimper against Joshua’s lips.

“Mm, I think she deserves it.” Joshua’s hand pressed a little firmer between your legs, his finger tracing along the soaked fabric of your bottoms.

“So wet already, baby. Is this all for us?”

You nodded breathlessly, words caught in your throat as your body shivered from the dual sensations.

“Good girl,” Dokyeom murmured approvingly against your ear, giving your nipples a firm pinch that made you arch against him with a small cry.

Dokyeom’s mouth crashed into yours, swallowing your whimpers as his tongue teased its way past your lips, tasting you like he’d been starving for it all day.

His large hands cupped your breasts firmly, thumbs brushing over your sensitive peaks before he rolled them between his fingers, making you arch into his chest with a muffled moan.

Joshua’s kisses trailed lower now, lips hot and wet as they explored the curve of your neck, down to your collarbones. His hand slid up your trembling stomach, fingers hooking under the loosened bikini top.

“Don’t need this anymore,” he murmured against your skin.

With one fluid motion, he tugged the flimsy fabric free and tossed it lazily to the edge of the pool, leaving your breasts bare and slick in the sunlight.

“Fuck, angel… look at you,” Joshua groaned, his dark eyes drinking in the sight of your hardened nipples, pebbled from the water and their touch.

Without hesitation, he leaned in, his warm mouth closing around one pert bud as his tongue swirled teasingly, sucking hard enough to make your head fall back against Dokyeom’s shoulder.

“Sh-Shua—ahh,” you gasped, your hands flying up to tangle in Joshua’s wet hair as your thighs tried to clench together under the water—only to be stopped by Dokyeom’s legs bracketing yours from behind.

Joshua hummed in satisfaction around your nipple, his other hand sliding down your stomach beneath the water.

His fingers toyed with the fabric of your bikini bottoms for only a moment before he tugged it aside with deliberate slowness.

The first brush of his fingers against your bare, sensitive clit made you jerk, a sharp cry muffled into Dokyeom’s kiss as his tongue claimed yours with just as much hunger.

“God, you’re soaked already,” Joshua growled, the pads of his fingers rubbing tight, slow circles over your clit. “Is this from the water… or us?”

You whimpered into Dokyeom’s mouth, your answer swallowed by his greedy kiss as his hands continued to knead and roll your breasts.

“Both,” Dokyeom murmured, pulling back just enough to breathe against your lips, his forehead resting against yours as he watched Joshua’s fingers work between your legs. “She’s always this wet for us.”

Joshua chuckled darkly, nipping at your nipple before kissing his way back up your chest. “Lucky for us then.”

He pressed a kiss to your jaw before slipping two fingers lower, easing them between your folds.

The intrusion made your knees buckle in the water, and Dokyeom’s arms immediately wrapped tighter around your waist, holding you steady against his hardening length pressing into your lower back.

“You feel that, angel?” Dokyeom whispered, his lips brushing your ear.

“That’s how worked up I am just from watching you.” He rutted gently against your ass, the thick ridge of him leaving no room for denial as Joshua’s fingers began a slow, torturous rhythm inside you.

“F-fuck—” your voice cracked, your head falling back against Dokyeom’s shoulder as your walls clenched around Joshua’s fingers.

“God, you’re tight,” Joshua groaned, his thumb circling your clit as his fingers curled, pressing into that spot that made your thighs tremble violently.

“Let me hear you, baby. No one’s out here but us.”

“She’s trying so hard to be quiet,” Dokyeom murmured, his tongue tracing the shell of your ear.

“Don’t hold back, angel. Let Shua hear how good he’s making you feel while I—” He pinched one of your nipples firmly, making you cry out and grind instinctively into Joshua’s palm.

“While I rub this needy little pussy against my cock.” Dokyeom’s hips shifted, grinding his hardened length between the swell of your ass cheeks as the water lapped gently around you.

“Shit, she’s clenching so hard,” Joshua said with a low laugh, his pace quickening as his thumb pressed more insistently on your clit.

“Gonna cum for us, sweetheart? So soon?”

You could barely form words, your breaths coming out in broken gasps as the coil in your stomach wound tighter and tighter.

“P-please…” you managed, your nails digging into Dokyeom’s forearm behind you and Joshua’s shoulder in front of you.

“Please what?” Joshua teased, his dark eyes gleaming as his fingers fucked you faster, the slick sounds obscene under the water. “Use your words, baby. Tell me what you need.”

“Want to cum,” you whimpered, your voice barely audible. “Please—please let me cum.”

Dokyeom’s teeth grazed your earlobe as he hissed, “You hear that? She’s begging.”

Joshua smirked, his fingers curling just right as his thumb gave your clit one final firm circle. “Then give it to us, baby. Cum all over my fingers.”

A strangled moan broke past your lips, and your walls clamped down around his fingers as your orgasm tore through you.

“That’s it, baby,” Joshua murmured, watching you come undone with hungry eyes. “Clench for me—just like that. Fuck, you’re so tight.”

Dokyeom’s lips trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses down your shoulder as he held you steady, his hands smoothing over your trembling thighs.

“God, you’re gorgeous when you cum,” he whispered, his cock grinding lazily against your ass through his soaked shorts.

But your high was cut short too soon when Joshua pulled his fingers away, leaving you clenching around nothing.

A whine of protest fell from your lips, but Joshua only clicked his tongue, grabbing your chin and tilting your face up to his.

“Don’t pout, sweetheart,” he teased, leaning in to kiss the corner of your mouth. “You’re about to get exactly what you’re begging for.”

Before you could answer, his hands slid under your thighs, effortlessly lifting you from the pool. You yelped softly, arms flying to wrap around his neck as he carried you to one of the lounge chairs near the edge of the water.

The cool breeze kissed your damp, overheated skin as he set you down on the recliner, and you shivered at the sudden chill.

“Cold, angel?” Dokyeom’s voice came from behind you, dark and amused. He stepped up onto the deck, his wet hair clinging to his forehead as he tugged the tie of his swim shorts loose.

“Don’t worry. You’ll be warm enough soon.”

You barely had time to catch your breath before Dokyeom sank down behind you on the recliner, his strong arms looping around your waist as he pulled you flush against his broad chest.

His hands roamed your body possessively, fingers sliding under the ties of your bikini bottoms to tug them loose.

“Off,” he said simply, tossing the ruined fabric to the side once he had them untied.

The air hit your soaked folds and you squirmed, trying to close your legs, but Dokyeom’s large hands held your thighs apart. “Uh-uh, angel. Keep those pretty legs open for us.”

Joshua stepped forward then, the sound of his shorts hitting the deck making your eyes flick up.

Your breath hitched at the sight—his cock stood heavy and thick against his toned stomach, the tip flushed an angry red and already leaking precum.

“So greedy for us already,” Joshua chuckled darkly, wrapping a hand around his length and giving it a slow stroke as he watched your blown-out pupils dart between him and Dokyeom.

You whimpered softly as Dokyeom’s fingers brushed your clit, circling it lazily while his cock, hot and hard, pressed against your slick entrance from behind.

The thick head rubbed teasingly between your folds, catching on your sensitive clit just enough to make your hips buck.

“Fuck, look at her,” Dokyeom groaned, his voice low in your ear. “So wet and messy—she’s dripping all over me.”

“Mm, I can see.” Joshua stepped closer, towering over you as his hand came down to tap your cheek lightly. “Open, baby. Be a good girl for us.”

You parted your lips without hesitation, tongue flicking out instinctively as he chuckled low in his chest. “That’s it. God, you’re perfect.”

Dokyeom’s hands tightened on your thighs, spreading you wider as he shifted you higher on his lap, the blunt head of his cock pressing harder against your slick entrance. “Feel that, angel? You’re about to take every inch of me.”

“Wait until she feels both of us,” Joshua murmured with a smirk, guiding his thick length to your waiting mouth. “Her greedy little hole’s gonna stretch so good.”

You whimpered as Dokyeom started to push in slowly from behind, the thick head forcing its way past your tight entrance.

“Oh my—Kyeom…” you gasped, eyes squeezing shut as the stretch burned deliciously.

“That’s it, angel,” he groaned, his jaw tightening as he sank deeper inch by inch. “Take it. You can handle it. You’re doing so good.”

Joshua’s hand cupped your jaw, his thumb stroking your cheek.

“Eyes on me, baby,” he said softly, though his tone held an edge of command. “Don’t get shy now.”

You obeyed, blinking up at him through teary lashes as he brushed the tip of his cock against your parted lips.

“Pretty mouth,” he praised, sliding his cockhead along your tongue, smearing precum across it before pressing just past your lips.

“Fuck, her mouth feels so good,” Joshua groaned, slipping in a little deeper. “Gonna let me fuck this sweet mouth while Kyeom fills you up, hmm?”

“Please,” you whined around his length, your voice muffled.

Dokyeom’s hips pressed flush against your ass finally, his entire length buried inside you as he cursed lowly. “Shit… so fucking tight. You’re squeezing me like a vice, angel.”

Before you could even catch your breath, Joshua’s large hand wrapped snugly around your throat, his thumb brushing against the rapid thrum of your pulse.

The gentle pressure made you moan around the thick length stretching your lips, sending vibrations straight down Joshua’s cock.

“God, listen to those pretty sounds,” Joshua hissed, his hips rocking forward slightly as you took him deeper into your mouth. “Such a perfect little toy for us.”

You hummed around him, the sound earning a deep groan from his chest. Determined to please him, your hands slid up to wrap around the base of his cock, stroking what your mouth couldn’t reach.

Spit dribbled down your chin as you bobbed your head, his swollen tip kissing the back of your throat.

“Fuck, baby… that mouth was made for me,” Joshua growled, his hand tightening slightly on your neck before easing up.

Behind you, Dokyeom began to move—slow at first, then building a punishing rhythm as he pistoned his cock into your slick heat.

The sound of skin slapping against skin echoed off the villa’s walls, blending with your muffled whimpers around Joshua’s cock.

“Look at her,” Dokyeom panted, his voice rough with lust. “She’s fucking dripping—messing up my thighs. So greedy for it, aren’t you angel?”

You tried to answer, but all that came out was a muffled moan, your eyes squeezing shut as tears pricked at the corners.

The stretch of Dokyeom’s cock inside you was overwhelming, his hips snapping forward mercilessly while Joshua’s length filled your mouth.

Joshua clicked his tongue in mock disapproval, a wicked smile tugging at his lips as he used his free hand to swipe away a tear trailing down your cheek.

“Aww, baby. Crying already?” he cooed. “You’re doing so good for us… taking both your boys like the sweetest little whore.”

Your whole body shivered at his words, and you moaned around him, the sound making his cock twitch in your throat.

“That’s it—fuck, such a good girl,” Dokyeom grunted, his pace unrelenting as he pounded into you from behind. “So fucking tight. You’re gonna cum again, aren’t you? I can feel it.”

Joshua’s hand suddenly slid up, fingers tangling in your hair as he yanked the golden flower clip out and tossed it carelessly onto the deck.

“Pretty little thing,” he murmured, gathering your hair into a messy makeshift ponytail as his hips thrust shallowly into your mouth. “Don’t hold back, baby. Cum for us.”

You let out a choked whimper as the coil in your stomach wound impossibly tight, your thighs trembling from the overwhelming pleasure.

Dokyeom’s cock dragged against your sensitive walls with each brutal snap of his hips, the wet sounds of your cunt echoing obscenely.

“Fuck, she’s squeezing me so good,” Dokyeom growled, his fingers digging harder into your hips. “You close, angel? Gonna let us feel you fall apart?”

Joshua chuckled darkly above you, his hand tugging on your hair to tilt your head back. “Cum all over Kyeom’s cock, sweetheart,” he ordered, his tone thick with lust. “And don’t you dare stop sucking.”

Your body shook violently as the orgasm tore through you like a tidal wave, legs trembling and toes curling as a raw cry left your swollen lips.

Dokyeom grunted behind you, his own hips stuttering erratically as his cock pulsed deep inside, hot ropes of cum spilling into your fluttering walls.

“F–fuck, angel… that’s it. Take it all,” Dokyeom groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder as his thrusts slowed, his length still twitching inside your overstimulated pussy.

Joshua let out a strangled moan above you, his hand tightening in your hair as he thrust deep into your mouth one last time.

His cock pulsed as thick spurts of cum coated your tongue, salty and warm as he held your head still. “Shit—just like that, baby. Swallow it all for me. Be a good girl.”

You whimpered softly, tears streaking your flushed cheeks as you obediently swallowed every drop.

Joshua’s thumb gently swiped at the corner of your lips as he pulled out slowly, watching your tongue peek out to show him your mouth was clean.

“Good fucking girl,” he cooed, his voice dropping to a warm murmur as he leaned down to kiss your spit-slick, puffy lips. “So perfect for us.”

Behind you, Dokyeom slowly pulled out with a low hiss, his cum dripping messily from between your thighs.

You whimpered at the sudden emptiness, your walls clenching reflexively as another small shudder ran through your body.

Joshua chuckled softly, brushing the hair sticking to your damp temple. “Shh, it’s okay, baby. You did so good for us,” he murmured, pressing tender kisses to your forehead.

Dokyeom’s lips followed, leaving soft pecks on your shoulder and cheek as his arms rubbed soothingly up and down your sides.

“Breathe, angel. Nice and easy,” he whispered, his voice low and sweet, so different from the desperate groans he let out moments ago.

Joshua reached down lazily to pick up his discarded shorts, tugging them on as he stayed kneeling between your trembling legs.

He spotted a nearby robe draped over one of the loungers and snagged it, wrapping the soft fabric around your naked, trembling form. With ease, he scooped you up into his arms bridal-style.

“Come here, baby girl. Let’s get you comfy,” he murmured, holding you close as your legs automatically wrapped around his waist.

You let out a small, exhausted laugh, your cheek pressed to the firm expanse of his chest. “Food’s here,” you mumbled breathlessly, still riding the aftershocks of pleasure.

Joshua’s lips curved into a warm smile as he kissed the crown of your head, mindful of the loose strands from your golden flower clip that now rested on the deck. “Yeah, baby. Let’s get you energized.”

Dokyeom had pulled on his own shorts by now, bending to retrieve your discarded bikini pieces from the deck. As the doorbell rang, he shot you a grin over his shoulder.

“I’ll get it,” he said, voice still hoarse but playful, disappearing inside to answer the door.

You looked up at Joshua through your lashes with a tired but content smile, your fingers playing with the collar of his robe.

“I’m starving now…” you whispered, lips curving with mischief despite your flushed face.

Joshua chuckled, his nose brushing against yours affectionately. “Of course you are. You just burned enough calories for three meals, sweetheart.”

You giggled, clinging tighter to him as he carried you inside toward the bed. With a soft smile, he pressed a lingering kiss to your forehead before straightening.

“I’ll grab something to clean you up,” he murmured, brushing a thumb across your cheek before disappearing into one of the villa’s bathrooms.

The sound of quiet wheels against the wooden floor pulled your gaze to the doorway where Dokyeom rolled in the room service trolley.

He grinned at you, eyes still dark with the afterglow of what just happened.

“Look at you,” he said warmly, pulling the trolley to a stop near the bed.

He grabbed the foldable wooden table leaning against the wall and with a few efficient movements, unfolded it and set it up right in front of you.

Plate by plate, he carefully arranged the food—burgers, fries, chicken salad, mango shake, crab cakes, and the chilled pitcher of mango juice.

“For our girl,” Dokyeom repeated softly, his grin widening as he pushed the trolley away and took a seat beside you on the bed.

He reached up, his fingers gently brushing your slightly messy hair to one side as he studied you. “We didn’t mess your hair up, huh? Still perfect.”

You let out a breathy laugh, the sound tired but happy. “Barely. I think the flower clip sacrificed itself for the cause, though.”

He chuckled, shaking his head as he tucked a loose strand behind your ear. “Worth it.”

Before you could reply, Joshua reappeared from the bathroom carrying a wooden tray with neatly folded towels, a bowl of warm water, and a small bottle of gentle soap.

His expression softened even more when he saw you sitting there, your robe wrapped loosely around your body.

“Perfect timing,” he murmured, setting the tray down on the nightstand and taking a seat on your other side.

He dipped one towel into the bowl, wringing out the excess water before meeting your eyes. “Open up for me, sweetheart. I need to clean you up.”

You hesitated for a moment, clutching the robe tighter. “Do we have to? I’m still so sensitive…” you whispered with a small pout.

Joshua’s lips curved upward in a tender smile as he leaned forward, his free hand cupping your cheek.

“I know, baby. I’ll be gentle—I promise. I just don’t want you uncomfortable later, okay?”

You sighed softly but nodded, letting the robe fall open as he carefully spread it apart. The cool air hit your flushed, sticky skin, making you shiver slightly.

“There’s my good girl,” Joshua cooed, his voice low and soothing as he began dabbing the warm towel between your thighs. You whimpered faintly at the sensation, your hips twitching.

“Shh… it’s okay. I’ve got you,” he whispered, his thumb stroking your knee in slow, reassuring circles. “You were so perfect for us. Let me take care of you now.”

Dokyeom leaned closer, his hand rubbing comforting circles on your back as he pressed a kiss to your temple. “He’s right, angel. You did so well. Just relax for us now.”

Joshua worked delicately, wiping away the mess from your thighs and between your folds with practiced care.

“Almost done, baby,” he murmured as he grabbed a clean towel to dry you.

You bit your lip, watching him with slightly glassy eyes as he finally pulled the robe back over your body, tying it loosely around your waist.

He pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

“All clean,” he whispered. “Now let’s get you fed.”

The late afternoon light poured into the villa, warm and golden as the sun began its slow descent over the ocean.

Hints of orange and pink streaked across the horizon, their glow slipping past the sheer curtains that swayed gently with the salty breeze.

You were perched on the edge of the vanity table, carefully outlining your lips with a dusty rose lip liner, the little furrow between your brows making Joshua chuckle from where he stood behind you.

“Don’t move too much, angel,” he teased lightly, his long fingers gently guiding a curl around the barrel of the curler.

The scent of your strawberry-scented lip balm and his cologne mixed in the air as ‘Heaven’s Cloud’ played lowly from your phone’s speaker.

“I’m not moving,” you murmured around the small smile forming as you capped the liner and reached for your lipstick, dabbing it delicately onto your lips.

Joshua tilted his head to watch, a small grin tugging at the corners of his lips. “Where’s your pink bow? The one I got you in Tokyo?”

You glanced down at your lap, reaching for the satin bow resting there. “Here.”

He took it from your hands, his thumb grazing your fingers briefly before stepping closer. “Perfect.”

He carefully clipped it to the middle section of your hair, letting it peek out from the soft waves he’d just finished curling.

“There’s my girl,” he murmured as he set the curler down on the counter.

“Thank you, baby,” you said sweetly, turning your head slightly to catch his eyes in the mirror.

He leaned down, his lips brushing against yours for a kiss—soft, lazy, tasting faintly of mango from the drink you’d shared earlier.

You laughed softly as you pulled back, giving him a playful look. “You guys really need to stop kissing me when I have lipstick on. You’re gonna stain every white shirt you own.”

Joshua only smirked, his dark eyes flashing mischievously. “Is that strawberry?” he asked, brushing his thumb gently across your bottom lip, smudging it slightly.

“It is.” You picked up your lip gloss with a huff. “I still need to put on gloss though, so don’t get too greedy.”

He chuckled, helping you down from the vanity chair with a hand at your waist. “Fine, I’ll behave—for now.”

You adjusted your outfit, running your palms down the soft mesh of your fitted skirt.

The short white base skirt hugged your hips perfectly, layered under the sheer fabric printed with tropical pink flowers. It paired seamlessly with your matching pink bikini top, covered modestly by a fitted white tube also adorned in the same floral pattern.

Gold jewelry kissed your skin—thin bangles, layered necklaces, and hoop earrings catching the fading light.

As Joshua admired you, you beckoned him closer with a finger. He stepped forward obligingly, his white button-up slightly open at the collar and matching white shorts perfectly pressed.

“Hold out your hand,” you instructed softly.

He raised a brow but complied, and you slipped a soft pink hair tie with a delicate bow onto his wrist. Then, you grabbed your nearby cosmetics bag, pulling out your favorite perfume and spritzing it lightly on the hair tie.

“Now you match me.” You smiled smugly, smoothing his shirt collar with your hands. “Just in case any girls out there start getting ideas.”

Joshua’s laughter rumbled low in his chest as he leaned down again, kissing your temple. “You’re cute when you’re possessive.”

“I’m serious, Shua,” you said, puffing your cheeks slightly as you fixed a strand of his hair sticking out. “Girls were taking pictures of you guys earlier in the villa waiting area.”

He only shrugged, slipping his arms lazily around your waist.

“So? You already marked me.” He lifted his wrist, letting the pink bow catch the light before brushing his nose against yours.

Before you could retort, the bathroom door creaked open. Dokyeom stepped out, his slightly damp hair pushed back with his fingers, the ends still glistening faintly.

He wore a plain white t-shirt tucked into white shorts, looking effortlessly clean yet devastatingly handsome.

Your eyes flicked briefly to the pink baseball cap sitting on the bed—it matched your outfit perfectly, and you had a sneaking suspicion he chose it on purpose.

“Occupational hazard, baby,” Dokyeom said lightly as he walked closer, clearly having caught the end of your little conversation.

“We’re idols. People take pictures—it comes with the territory.”

You let out a resigned sigh, fixing him with a half-pout. “I know… but still.”

He reached you in two easy strides, his hand sliding gently to your jaw as he leaned down to press a feather-light kiss to your cheek.

His fingers lingered there for a second longer than necessary as he added, voice low and teasing, “But everyone knows we’re smitten by you, angel. Don’t they?”

Your lips curled into a soft smile as you looked between your two boyfriends, their gazes warm and fond. “Hopelessly smitten,” you teased.

And then, with that dangerous glint in your eye, you turned back to the mirror to apply your lip gloss, dragging the wand slowly across your bottom lip as if you were trying to kill them with anticipation.

“Speaking of smitten—whose fault was it that our date got leaked three years ago because someone posted it on their public Instagram account?”

Dokyeom groaned dramatically, running a towel through his hair one last time before tossing it lazily onto the bed.

“Oh, come on, angel.” He grabbed the pink cap from the bed and adjusted it snugly on his still-damp hair.

“The fans loved you more than they loved us. I swear half of them only stayed for my updates because they were hoping for glimpses of you.”

Joshua chuckled, already scrolling on his phone as he leaned against the nightstand. “He’s not wrong.”

He turned the screen toward you, showing his lock screen wallpaper—an accidental mirror selfie he’d taken of you once when you were fixing your hair, sunlight painting you in gold.

“Remember the one time Carats noticed my wallpaper and started spamming ‘How did they pull (Y/N)?’ under my posts?”

Your cheeks warmed slightly, but you smirked, dropping the lip gloss into your handbag. “Mm, I think the real question is how I let two chaotic men trick me into this.”

Joshua snorted as he reached for your handbag, effortlessly slipping it over his shoulder alongside your small pink camera already strapped around his wrist.

He glanced at you knowingly. “Tricked? You’re wearing our matching bracelets like a proud little trophy wife, baby. Don’t even start.”

You raised your right hand, letting the thin, gold chain bracelet catch the fading sunlight as it glinted. “Of course. Yours,” you said, wiggling your fingers.

Dokyeom tilted his head as he adjusted the cap’s brim and stepped closer, his deep brown eyes glittering playfully. “And mine?”

You raised your left hand this time, flashing the identical bracelet. Dokyeom’s grin widened as he crouched down in front of you, effortlessly balancing on one knee. “Good girl.”

Your heart fluttered when his large, warm hands carefully strapped your white sandals in place. When he finished, he leaned in to press a sweet kiss against your knee before standing again.

“Thank you, Kyeom,” you murmured with a smile, brushing his jaw with your fingers as a reward.

“Anything for our girl.”

Joshua, already holding your hand with his fingers intertwined with yours, leaned in and murmured, “And Kyeom said they were all glad we weren’t bitchless anymore.”

You froze mid-step as they guided you toward the door, turning your head slowly to glare playfully at Dokyeom. “Did you just call me a bitch, Lee Seokmin?”

His eyes went wide, and he raised both hands in mock surrender as Joshua tried to hide his laugh behind his free hand. “No! No, angel. That’s literally what they said on Twitter—‘they’re not bitchless anymore’—I’m quoting, I swear!”

Joshua’s laughter finally escaped in a deep, warm sound that made your stomach flip. “Mm, he’s digging himself a hole, isn’t he?”

“You think?” you teased, shaking your head as you let them lead you out of the villa.

Dokyeom pouted, placing a big hand gently on your lower back as Joshua held your hand firmly in his. “You’re cruel, angel. So cruel to your poor boyfriends.”

You only laughed, shaking your head as Joshua easily guided the three of you out of the bustling lobby. The resort’s golden lights faded behind you as the warm evening breeze met your skin.

You caught snippets of whispers and lingering stares from other guests—no surprise, really.

The three of you walking together hand in hand like some untouchable, beautiful beings was bound to turn heads.

Joshua led confidently through the path to the private villa parking lot, his thumb rubbing the back of your hand in lazy circles.

The moment you stepped into the quiet area, your eyes immediately landed on the sleek black Porsche parked neatly near the entrance.

The one that had caused a small argument three days ago.

You sighed loudly, already feeling your blood pressure spike. “I still don’t get it—why did you two have to buy a car? We could’ve just rented one like normal people.”

Joshua let out a soft laugh, releasing your hand only to open the passenger door for you. “Normal people?” he teased, raising an elegant brow as he gestured for you to sit.

“Baby, we are far from normal.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t argue as you slid into the plush leather seat.

He leaned in, pulling the seatbelt over you and buckling it securely, his hands lingering a little longer than necessary. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to the side of your head.

“There,” he murmured warmly. “Perfect.”

You caught sight of his teasing smirk in your peripheral vision as he moved around to climb into the backseat. He sprawled out lazily, his long legs stretched comfortably while Dokyeom settled into the driver’s seat.

As Dokyeom adjusted the seat and mirrors, Joshua reached for the car’s screen, connecting his phone to the Bluetooth with a soft chime. “We have the money to do so, baby,” he said casually, already scrolling through his playlist.

“Besides, we’ll just auction it off when we leave in a few weeks. Maybe sign it. Some Carat will lose their mind.”

You raised a brow at him through the rearview mirror as the car purred to life. “And when we come back?” you asked dryly, already knowing the answer.

Joshua, instead of answering immediately, raised his phone and snapped a photo of you, catching your expression before you could protest.

You turned to glare at him, but he only smiled down at his screen, clearly pleased.

“You look gorgeous, as always,” he said with a small grin. “And when we come back? We’ll just buy a new one. Simple.”

“Exactly,” Dokyeom agreed easily, one hand on the wheel as he eased the Porsche onto the quiet street.

“We’re not renting cars like college students on spring break. Come on, angel.”

You groaned into your palm. “Men. I swear…”

“You love these men,” Dokyeom teased, his voice full of laughter as he glanced at you for a split second.

You sighed, but there was no hiding the small smile tugging at your lips. “Unfortunately, I can’t argue with that.”

Joshua chuckled from the back, his voice dipping lower, almost smug. “That’s right, baby. You’re ours.”

You ignored the little flutter in your stomach as Dokyeom’s hand slipped from the gearshift to your bare thigh, his thumb stroking slow, soothing circles against your skin.

“Take a right here,” you murmured, holding your phone up to show the GPS directions. “We’re actually pretty close. Only five minutes.”

Joshua tilted his head in amusement from the backseat. “Five minutes? That’s practically walking distance.”

You turned your head to glare at him. “Don’t even start. As if you’d walk double that.”

He smirked, resting his cheek against his palm lazily. “You’d ruin your shoes, baby. And you know that.”

Your lips formed a small pout as you looked down at your sandals. “…damn it. You’re right.”

Joshua’s laugh was low and warm, the kind that made your chest ache. “Of course I am.”

Dokyeom only squeezed your thigh gently, flashing you a grin. “We just want our girl comfortable. Let us spoil you a little, angel.”

You exhaled dramatically, trying to suppress the amused smile threatening to bloom. “A little? You two’s definition of ‘a little’ is a black Porsche on an island resort.”

“Exactly.” Joshua’s tone was smug as hell now. “So stop fighting it.”

You sighed dramatically, but the amused smile threatening your lips gave you away as you leaned back in the seat.

Outside the window, the bustling streets of Malé came into view—colorful shops, bright lights, and the golden-orange glow of the Maldivian sunset dancing off the water.

Dokyeom slowed the Porsche down, the car purring softly as he turned into a parking area already lined with luxury vehicles.

He parked neatly into an empty space, fingers drumming the wheel lazily as he cut the engine.

Before you even reached for the passenger door handle, Dokyeom was already out of his seat. “Don’t even try it, angel,” he called teasingly, jogging around the front of the car.

Joshua was right behind him, his long fingers plucking the familiar small white silk shawl from the backseat.

He shot you a knowing smirk through the open door. “What did I say about bringing a jacket?” he teased lightly.

“It ruins the outfit,” you recited flatly, hiding your grin as you allowed Dokyeom to open your door.

“Exactly,” Joshua chuckled.

Dokyeom extended his hand gallantly, and you placed yours in his, stepping gracefully out of the car in your dainty sandals.

The tropical air was warm, but you already felt a chill knowing how most stores loved to crank up their air conditioning.

Joshua seemed to read your mind as he draped the silk shawl over your shoulders, his hands brushing your skin tenderly as he adjusted it. “There. Our princess won’t be catching cold.”

“Thank you, baby,” you murmured, letting him press a soft kiss to your temple.

“Anything for you,” he replied with a wink.

With Dokyeom’s hand warm and steady on the small of your back and Joshua’s fingers intertwining with yours, the three of you made your way into the mall.

Heads turned, as usual, but your boyfriends paid no mind—Joshua casually scrolling through his phone with your pink camera still strapped to his wrist, Dokyeom’s protective stance practically radiating ‘she’s with us.’

“There’s Chanel.” Joshua nodded toward the store with a small smile.

Your eyes lit up instantly, and they both chuckled under their breath. “Of course she noticed,” Dokyeom teased fondly as they gently steered you inside.

A chic shopping assistant greeted the three of you instantly, her professional smile widening at the sight of your group.

“Welcome to Chanel! How can I assist you today?”

You returned her smile sweetly, but before you could say anything, Joshua chimed in smoothly. “Hi. We’re interested in seeing your newest collections for handbags and accessories. Whatever she likes, bring it out.”

Your eyes zeroed in on the pink Métiers d’Art bag displayed elegantly on a nearby shelf, and Joshua’s gaze flicked there instantly, his lips curling knowingly. “Knew she’d love the pink one,” he murmured to Dokyeom.

Dokyeom chuckled, lightly bumping Joshua’s shoulder. “Get the new ones too. She’ll need options.”

Joshua didn’t hesitate. He was already pulling his black card from his wallet with an effortless flick of his wrist, holding it between two fingers like it was nothing.

“Already one step ahead of you,” he said smugly. “Anything her eyes linger on for more than five seconds—we’re taking.”

You gave him an incredulous look, lips parting to protest, but he only shot you that charming smile that melted all your defenses.

“Hi, yes,” Joshua said smoothly to the assistant, “could we also see the pink sunglasses from the window display? And the pink silk scarves, if possible.”

“Of course, sir.” The assistant’s eyes darted from Joshua to Dokyeom and then back to you.

Her expression shifted as recognition sparked. She gasped softly. “Oh my gosh… That’s why you all looked so familiar!”

You laughed, unable to resist teasing as your fingers brushed over the shawl. “Mhm. They’ve got a popular girlfriend, yeah.”

The assistant’s cheeks flushed as she let out a nervous laugh. “Of course! You’re Miss (Y/N). I should’ve realized earlier. Everyone talks about how lucky they are.”

Joshua raised a brow at you, a smug smile tugging at his lips. “What did I say about our fans loving you more than us?”

You shrugged, pretending to be nonchalant as your fingers trailed over a pink quilted wallet. “Can’t help it. I am adorable.”

Dokyeom leaned in, his lips brushing your ear as he whispered low enough only for you to hear. “Adorable is putting it lightly, angel. They’re obsessed. Just like us.”

His words still lingered hot against your ear as you pulled back slightly to grin at him. But before you could quip back, the sound of a shutter clicking caught your attention.

You turned your head just in time to catch Joshua lowering his phone slightly, his lips tugging upward in that soft, infuriatingly fond smile of his.

“Shua…” you warned, half amused, half flustered.

“Don’t mind me,” he said lightly, tapping his screen to snap another photo as you animatedly held up the new pink Métiers d’Art bag, practically glowing with excitement.

“You’re glowing. Let me live.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t stop talking, your attention turning back to Dokyeom as you traced the bag’s stitching with careful fingers.

“And the material—it’s lambskin, Kyeom. It’s so soft. It won’t crease easily either, so it’ll last forever.”

Dokyeom, who knew absolutely nothing about bag materials but was trying his best, nodded solemnly like you’d just explained nuclear physics.

“Right. Yeah. Lambskin. That’s… impressive, angel.”

Joshua chuckled quietly at Dokyeom’s attempt to keep up, his thumb swiping up on his screen. Without hesitation, he posted one of the photos to his public Instagram story.

He didn’t care. Not about the company. Not about what anyone had to say. What were they going to do? Fire him? Good luck.

As you continued chatting with the assistant—your voice sweet and animated as you said, “These look really cute! Especially this one. The shape is perfect for casual brunch dates”—Joshua handed his black card over to the assistant casually, his tone lazy but purposeful.

“That’s our future wife,” he said, loud enough for Dokyeom to hear but quiet enough to sound intimate.

There was a flicker of mischief in his eyes as he added, “Throwing a small tantrum every time she sees the new car.”

The assistant bit back a knowing smile as Joshua exhaled dramatically. “Let her get anything. Everything her eyes stay on for more than five seconds—swipe it. All of it.”

“Of course, sir.” The assistant accepted the card smoothly, already used to this level of devotion from rich boyfriends but still mildly flustered at how unapologetically smitten this one was.

Joshua hummed in satisfaction and moved to stand beside Dokyeom, who had his phone out filming you twirling a white Chanel handbag in your hands.

The camera caught you tilting your head, examining the leather closely before you beamed at the assistant and muttered something about the practicality of its size.

“Look at her,” Dokyeom murmured, not even trying to hide his grin as he stopped the video. “She’s gonna make the Chanel Instagram page if we’re not careful.”

“Let them try,” Joshua said, grinning as he leaned slightly against a glass display.

His eyes followed your every move, completely unbothered by the few shoppers glancing curiously in their direction.

Dokyeom tucked his phone into his pocket and glanced sidelong at Joshua. “You wanna stop by Prada after this?”

Joshua’s laugh was low and easy, like he’d been expecting that question. “Absolutely. I need new bags and clothes anyway.”

“Same,” Dokyeom agreed, his eyes drifting back to you just as you reached for a small pink silk scarf. “And (Y/N) needs new shoes.”

Joshua smirked, his gaze softening as he watched you carefully fold the scarf, laughing lightly at something the assistant said.

“She needs the world,” he murmured.

“Guess we’ll start with Chanel and work our way up.” Dokyeom’s grin matched his as the two watched you turned toward them, cheeks flushed from the assistant’s compliments.

You raised a perfectly arched brow at them, lips pursed as your eyes flicked between Joshua and Dokyeom—your silent way of saying ‘I’m still mad about the car.’

Joshua caught the look instantly and tilted his head, smirking like he’d just caught you pouting. “Oh no. Don’t give me that face, baby,” he said smoothly, adjusting the pink hair tie still snug around his wrist.

“We’ve been over this. You’re not winning this argument, and the Porsche isn’t going back.”

Dokyeom, standing with his arms folded across his chest, chuckled under his breath. “Exactly. You’ll forgive us the second we hand you that pink bag and matching sunnies.”

You narrowed your eyes slightly, fighting the twitch of a smile threatening to break through. “I swear, the two of you—”

But before you could finish, they both waved their hands in sync as though dismissing your scolding entirely.

“Shhh. Go on, baby. Keep shopping,” Joshua said, his tone playful but commanding as he leaned lazily against the counter. “Your little tantrum isn’t about to stop us from spoiling you.”

Dokyeom grinned, tilting his head at you with a mischievous glint in his eyes. “Yeah, angel. Consider the car just our warm-up act. You’ve got two men and unlimited black cards at your disposal—use them.”

You let out an exasperated laugh, throwing your hands up. “You’re insane. Both of you.”

“Mm. And you love us for it,” Joshua teased, pulling his phone back out and subtly snapping another candid of you admiring the pink Métier d’Art bag.

“Damn right,” Dokyeom added with a wink, stepping closer as he glanced at the assistant bringing over more pieces for you to try.

“Now hurry up. Prada’s not going to clear their stock for us.”

You rolled your eyes but turned back to the assistant anyway, your fingers already skimming over the next gorgeous bag she set out. “Fine. But you’re carrying everything.”

“As if we weren’t already planning to,” Joshua shot back, his smile widening as he whispered something under his breath to Dokyeom.

Dokyeom chuckled, watching you practically glow as you admired the display. “She’s really milking this ‘mad at us’ act, huh?”

“Let her,” Joshua murmured, eyes soft as he caught another picture of you, his lock screen already set to a similar shot from earlier. “She deserves it.”

The rooftop was breathtaking—the faint sound of waves crashing below mixing with soft jazz playing over hidden speakers. Warm fairy lights strung above you cast a golden glow on the table, reflecting off the wine glasses and silver cutlery.

The air smelled faintly of salt and jasmine, and the gentle breeze made the flames of the table’s small candles dance.

Shopping bags from Chanel, Prada, and Dior sat in a neat pile under the table, your day’s spoils tucked safely away.

You sat comfortably, legs crossed in your short white skirt—the flowy mesh overlay you’d been wearing earlier now folded neatly in one of the Chanel paper bags piled under the table.

With nothing but the fitted skirt hugging your thighs and the pink bikini top peeking from beneath your cropped tube, you were the picture of effortless allure as you snapped a few selfies, the ocean glittering behind you.

Next to you, Joshua leaned back lazily, his eyes soft and admiring as his phone stayed poised, ready to capture you the second you looked his way.

“Okay, give me one with your hand under your chin,” Joshua instructed, angling his phone as he snapped shot after shot. “Perfect. God, you’re unreal.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled anyway, striking a few poses as requested.

Beside him, Dokyeom was already halfway through a piece of warm bread, absently breaking off a chunk and holding it out for Joshua, who leaned forward slightly to take it with a quiet, “Thanks.”

Just as Joshua was snapping another photo of you, a blur appeared in the frame—Dokyeom, grinning like a menace as he popped his head in and pulled a ridiculous face.

Joshua huffed out a laugh mid-shot while you spun around to glare playfully.

“Yah, Lee Seokmin!” You gasped, trying not to laugh as you caught him sticking his tongue out.

“What?” he said innocently, already leaning back in his chair with that mischievous sparkle in his eyes. “Your photos were missing something. I fixed them.”

You let out a laugh anyway, covering your mouth with your hand as Joshua scrolled through the photos with an amused shake of his head.

“Alright, alright,” Joshua sighed, his grin widening as he slid his phone and your pink camera toward Dokyeom. “Since you’re so eager to be involved, why don’t you take some of us?”

“Gladly,” Dokyeom said, licking crumbs from his fingers before taking both devices.

Joshua scooted closer to you on the bench-style seat, his arm sliding smoothly around your shoulders as he pulled you flush against his side.

“C’mon, baby. Let’s give him something worthy of Instagram.”

You smiled for the camera as Dokyeom counted down dramatically. “One… two… three… cheese!”

Joshua’s grip on your shoulder shifted lower, his hand trailing down your arm, then sneakily inching over your chest as his palm brushed against the thin fabric of your top.

Your eyes widened as you sucked in a breath, shooting him a glare mid-pose.

“Joshua Hong,” you hissed, your lips still forced into a smile for Dokyeom’s sake.

“What? I’m just holding my girl.” Joshua’s voice was innocent, but the smirk tugging at his lips betrayed him.

You slapped his chest lightly with your free hand, whispering sharply, “Behave. We’re here for dinner.”

But your traitorous mind wasn’t helping. God, why does he always do this?

His hand was still resting lazily on your thigh, fingers drumming lightly like he wasn’t seconds away from pushing them higher under your skirt. He knows exactly what he’s doing too, the smug bastard.

Before you could gather yourself, Dokyeom chuckled from across the table, setting both your pink camera and Joshua’s phone down on the linen. “That’s what she said,” he teased casually, his lips quirking.

Joshua’s laugh came low and dangerous, his hand sliding up to run through his perfectly styled hair as his eyes never left you.

The corners of his lips lifted into that familiar smirk—the one that always meant trouble.

You exhaled slowly through your nose, already feeling warmth pooling in your belly.

But Joshua’s hand squeezed your thigh, and your breath hitched before you could stop it. “Oh, come on, angel,” he murmured, his voice smooth as honey. “Let us have some fun for once.”

You shot him a glare that probably wasn’t as sharp as you hoped, not with your pulse thundering in your ears.

“You had your fun after lunch,” you hissed back, heat climbing your neck as memories of the villa pool flashed uninvited in your mind.

His smirk widened, his eyes flicking briefly to Dokyeom sitting across from you. Like clockwork, the younger mirrored it, leaning back in his chair with his arms crossed.

“You sure about that?” Dokyeom asked, his tone low and knowing.

Your head whipped toward him, your mouth parting in shock. “Dokyeom—”

But Joshua leaned in closer, his breath fanning hot across your ear as his lips brushed against your lobe. “We know you want more, greedy girl,” he whispered.

Your thighs clenched instinctively under the table, and you shoved at his chest—not nearly hard enough to move him.

“No, I don’t,” you muttered, but your voice came out too soft, too unconvincing.

Joshua’s brow shot up, his smirk downright sinful now as his hand squeezed your thigh again, this time closer to where you were already pulsing with need.

“Hmm. I don’t believe you,” he murmured.

From the corner of your eye, you caught Dokyeom pushing his chair back and circling the table casually. Your stomach knotted as he stopped beside you, dragging the chair until it was snugly placed on your other side.

“Strange,” Dokyeom said as he sat, one of his big hands settling on your opposite thigh, his thumb stroking over your warm skin.

“You’re being weirdly bratty today, angel.”

“Bratty?” you echoed incredulously, though your voice betrayed you again—higher, breathier than before.

Joshua hummed in amusement, leaning down to graze his teeth gently against your earlobe. Your stomach flipped violently at the sensation.

“You are. Cute… but bratty.” His hand inched even higher under your skirt, fingers dangerously close to your core.

You reached for his wrist, desperate to regain control. “I said behave,” you whispered again, but your voice trembled slightly.

Joshua’s warm chuckle sent shivers down your spine. “I am behaving, baby,” he said, voice thick with amusement. “I don’t know about you though.”

Dokyeom’s hand squeezed your other thigh lightly, his voice a teasing murmur near your shoulder. “Should we take her back to the villa early? Since she’s so… tense?”

Your entire body flushed as you twisted to glare at him. “I swear—”

But Joshua only hummed with mock concern, his fingers brushing the inside of your thigh now. “Relax, angel. Or people will notice how worked up you’re getting.”

You were just about to snap back when a waiter suddenly approached, smiling nervously as he balanced a tray. “Excuse me… is everything complete with your orders?”

Joshua’s hand didn’t budge from your thigh as he looked up, smile polite but sharp. “Yes, thank you.”

The waiter nodded, placing plates of food carefully on the table before setting down a chilled glass of champagne directly in front of you.

Both Joshua and Dokyeom stilled.

Their raised brows mirrored each other as Joshua’s voice dropped in temperature. “What’s this?”

The waiter shifted awkwardly, clearly sensing the tension radiating from the two men seated with you. “Ah—it’s, um—for the madam. Compliments of the gentleman at table four.” He gestured subtly with his chin.

Your eyes instinctively followed, catching sight of a local man seated a few tables down. He raised his glass with a bold, charming grin aimed squarely at you.

Joshua’s throat cleared, the sound low and dangerous. “Is that all?”

The poor waiter flinched slightly, nodding quickly before scurrying off.

Joshua’s jaw ticked as he locked eyes with the man, his expression unreadable—calm, yet cold.

He picked up the champagne glass delicately, swirling it for a moment as though testing the weight before, with an almost cruel sort of elegance, tipping it over and letting the liquid cascade to the floor with a soft splash.

He didn’t look away from the man once.

Dokyeom, equally silent but his smile tight, reached across and slid a fresh glass of wine in front of you. “Here. Drink this instead, angel.”

You blinked between them, heart thudding as Joshua leaned in slightly, his voice velvety but laced with steel. “You’re with us. You don’t need anyone else sending you shit.”

Dokyeom chuckled low, though his hand found your knee under the table, thumb rubbing soothing circles as he added, “I swear… can’t take you anywhere without people trying their luck.”

Your cheeks flamed—not from the champagne incident but from the heat of their attention as the air around your table thickened.

Joshua’s fingers brushed higher again, squeezing lightly as he murmured, “Now, be a good girl and thank your boyfriends for saving you from that creep.”

You swallowed, your voice coming out quieter than intended as you murmured, “Thank you… both of you.”

Dokyeom’s sharp gaze softened slightly as he leaned back in his chair, one arm draped lazily over the backrest as he watched you reach for the wine glass he’d slid over earlier.

“You guys know I don’t even like champagne…” you mumbled with a little pout, swirling the red liquid before bringing it to your lips.

“You’re right.” Dokyeom’s voice was low, almost playful, but there was an edge in it. “Champagne’s too bitter for someone as sweet as you.”

Joshua hummed in agreement, his expression unreadable now as he took the serving spoon and began placing portions of food on your plate—grilled lobster, fresh greens, roasted vegetables—doing it with such quiet precision it sent a shiver down your spine.

“You deserve better than whatever cheap glass he thought he could win you with,” Joshua said smoothly, but his eyes had already drifted past you, catching sight of the man again.

The silence at the table grew heavy.

You shifted slightly in your chair, pulling your skirt lower on your thighs as the weight of Joshua’s palm lingered possessively.

His gaze didn’t waver—burning into the stranger across the room with an intensity that made your stomach knot.

The man, still attempting a smug smirk, faltered under Joshua’s cold stare. His shoulders stiffened, his eyes dropping as he quickly turned away to focus on his own meal, clearly rattled.

Only then did Joshua’s sharp glare break, his lips twitching with the faintest smirk as he finally looked back at you.

“Pathetic,” he muttered under his breath, just loud enough for you to hear.

Your breath hitched.

The word dripped with quiet venom, but it wasn’t just the coldness in his tone that had your stomach fluttering—it was the way his hand slid slightly higher on your bare thigh under the tablecloth, his thumb brushing lazy, teasing circles against the sensitive skin.

You gripped the stem of your wine glass a little tighter, taking another sip in a desperate attempt to calm the heat rising to your face.

Dokyeom’s hand joined again soon after, resting just above your knee on the other thigh, his fingers drumming softly before stroking upward. His touch was slower, gentler, but no less possessive.

“Relax, angel,” Dokyeom murmured, his tone casual enough to pass for normal conversation as he tore off another piece of bread. “You’re so tense.”

Your throat felt dry as your eyes darted between them, your voice barely above a whisper. “You two are unbelievable…”

Joshua chuckled lowly, the sound sending a shiver down your spine.

“Unbelievable?” His fingers traced idle patterns higher on your inner thigh, dangerously close to the hem of your skirt.

“No, baby. We’re just making sure you remember who you belong to.”

You swallowed hard, the flush on your cheeks deepening as you focused on the food in front of you, though the flavors had dulled under the weight of their attention.

“Such a good girl,” Dokyeom whispered, his fingers giving your thigh a light squeeze.

“You know we’d never let anyone else have you, right?”

You nodded mutely, and Joshua smirked, leaning just slightly closer, his breath tickling your ear as he murmured, “Good. Because after dinner, we’re going to remind you all over again.”

⤷ read part 2 here !

⤷ permanent taglist — @m1kkso @ilovhoonie @jiyeons-closet @manobillie @yjmylove @in-somnias-world @cripplinghooman @yeossified ⤷ piece taglist —

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