Papi Yunho 💜

Your uncle lifted his fork to his greasy lips, the white meat of the turkey forcing itself into his already stuffed mouth. “Y’know, your youth will only last you for so long. You’ll end up an old cat lady and regret not settling down.”

Regret. You hate that word, as if these people know anything about you, let alone have a right to say how you should live. The food you're trying to swallow feels too big for your throat. There’s a burning in your chest. A feeling you’ve tried desperately to suppress since the holidays started. 

Anger. Hate. Hurt. Disgust. Fear.

You don’t want to be here anymore. 

Dramatically, you throw your fork on the table. The silverware clatters harshly against your plate and bounces until it lands on the other side of the table. The chatter stops immediately, all eyes on you as you stand so quickly the chair topples to the ground.

A pin could drop and it would echo in the quiet room. 

“You know what? Fuck this. Fuck you. I don’t know why you’re so obsessed with me getting knocked up. It’s fucking weird. Get off my dick.”

Aunts gasp. Some Uncles laugh. But your mom, her eyes are so wide and shocked as if she wasn’t the one who started this whole issue and didn’t do anything to defend you. 

Her own daughter. 

“And you.” You look at her, but it’s hard when your vision blurs. “When I do find a husband, and when I do have kids, don’t expect to hear from me.”

Voices call your name as you turn away. Someone tries to hold you back by the forearm, but you tear from their grasp. Your only goal is to get the fuck out of there, heading for the front door and slamming it on your way out.

It’s cold. A gentle breeze blows your hair as you turn to the side of the house. The crunch of leaves sounds on the ground therapeutically. You can’t help but look at the pretty orange and brown beneath your feet. It’s the only thing keeping your frustrating tears from falling. 

But you don’t see that there’s already someone at the side of the house with your gaze on the ground. You forget how close the houses are in this neighborhood.

“Bad day I take it?”

You lift your head, surprised to see someone already at your spot. The sun is setting despite the early hours. The only thing illuminating his face are the porch lights. His cheekbones are high. His brown hair is decorated with a few gray strands, framing his handsomeness perfectly. His lips curve into a smile, but more friendly than humorous. 

Shit, you’re staring. “Oh you know, just family butting in when they shouldn’t.”

He grins at that. “Ah, good ol’ holiday joy. I can’t stand them either. Pretending they know me when they don't.”

Relief settles on your shoulders. At least you aren’t alone. “I know right? They change my diaper once and suddenly think they know what’s good for me.”

The man laughs. His smile lines deepen at his lips and his eyes close for a brief moment. You smile at him.

“I know the feeling all too well.” He studies you when he opens his eyes again, gaze dropping to your nylon-covered legs and the cut of your dress. He travels up to your face smoothly. “What was your name?”

It takes a second for the effect of his gaze to fade, but you manage to tell him. “I’m studying Chemistry right now. On my way to getting a Masters.”

His eyebrows shoot up. “Oh wow! That’s really impressive! You look too young to have all that under your belt already.”

His compliments make you burn. “Oh, thank you. I just study hard.” You tuck a strand of hair that blows annoyingly in your face. “And you are...?”

“Yunho.”

You furrow your eyebrows together. “You know? No, I don’t think I do.”

He looks just as confused, but then realization settles on his face and he laughs again. This time, he clutches his stomach and bends over, getting close to your bubble. Not that you mind, you like the smell of his light, earthy cologne.

“No- not ‘you know.’ Yunho. Y-U-N-H-O.”

That smile is still on his face when it clicks in your mind. You feel your face burn from embarrassment, covering your mouth with cold fingers. “Oh my god. I’m such an idiot. Yunho. Okay, I get it.”

You’re still burning when he chuckles again, deep and velvety. “No worries. I think that’s the first time that’s happened to me.”

The two of you laugh once more before you settle into silence. The quiet doesn’t last long when he asks, “So why are you out here? If you don’t mind me asking.”

Maybe it’s the warm, pleasant feeling in your stomach from talking to Yunho, but you don’t have an ounce of hesitation in telling him. “My family has always bugged me about starting a family. The moment I graduated high school, it’s like the only thing I’m good for now is popping out babies.”

Yunho scoffs. His jaw clenches attractively and you hate how your legs press together upon the sight. 

“I know completely where you’re coming from. Trust me, that nagging never goes away. I’m already well above my prime and my brothers still bother me about finding a wife. With all this gray hair? I don’t think the ladies would want an old man like me.”

A demon must possess you because you speak before you can even think. “What? Yunho, I know we just met, but you’re like…very attractive. Finding a wife won’t be hard for you, even if you think you’re old.”

The lift of his eyebrow says it all. He’s shocked, at the very least. He stands straighter, towering over you. You hadn’t realized he was leaning against the wall to appear smaller, but his height stuns you.

He cocks his head to the side. “You think so?”

It takes a moment to gather your thoughts. His defined chest shows through his black turtleneck, nipples pebbling in the cold. His lithe arms wrap over his chest, adding to the clothed cleavage. If his upper body looks this good underneath clothes, you can’t even imagine anything less.

“I…” Fuck it. “Yeah. I do. You’re tall, handsome, fit, and some chicks dig older guys.” 

He scoffs a little, but it’s more from embarrassment than pride. His full cheeks blush further and you know it’s not from the cold. If you manage to play your cards right, you can ditch your family dinner for a different type of feast.

Yunho’s smile turns darker, more sinister as he looks down at you through his bangs. “Oh yeah? What type of chicks?”

“If you want to get specific, maybe the one standing in front of you.”

His grin deepens. Bingo.

-

His car is nice. Like, really nice. The seats are leather and he's got interior lights that shine when he opens the passenger car door for you. 

What a gentleman. 

But it’s his flat that impresses you the most. The ones you see are usually in the movies, either too small for any average person to live in or big enough for a whole town. Yunho has the latter.

You want to compliment him. Or more so, ask what type of job he has to afford all this space, but the large hands on your back push you to the bedroom and remind you why you’re here in the first place.

He doesn’t bother closing the door when you two make it to his room. Yunho cranes his neck down, lips ghosting over your own before he finds your neck instead. You lean to one side, hands going up his back trailing to his hair that you intertwine with your fingers. His mouth is so warm on your cold skin. It has you shaking for a brief moment before you get used to his heat.

Yunho starts with pecks. His lips feel plush and delicate, causing your flesh to rise with goosebumps. He moves to the center of your neck and kisses there too, but just when your eyes are starting to flutter shut and your mouth opens to sigh, he bites. 

You gasp instead. “Ah! Yunho!”

He doesn’t pull away from your throat, but you can feel his body jolt with giggles. He presses his kisses harder where his teeth marked you, a tiny apology you grow wet from. The two of you are still standing mere inches from the bed, but you don’t want to part from him. Yunho’s leg fits perfectly snug between your thighs and though you aren’t grinding, your cunt likes the warmth it provides. 

But you can feel it throbbing. The aching for any tiny movement, but you force yourself still save for how you keep pressing yourself against him.

Yunho makes you feel so small. His hands feel as if they could hold you easily, and they seem to do that with your lower back. Long fingers dig into your skin, and it doesn’t take long for his hands to travel further down until he finds the fat of your ass.

He takes a moment to stop giving you hickeys and groans into your shoulder. “So fucking soft. Your ass looks so good in this dress.” He swipes his tongue from your collarbone to the place below your ears. Your nipples harden almost immediately, the wetness makes you cold for a moment.

“You should see how it looks without it on.”

Challenge sparks in his eyes when he raises his head to look at you. All it takes is a reassuring nod from you before he pulls away almost completely, save for the hands squeezing your ass.

“On the bed then. Let me see.”

You smile and pry his hands off you, lifting your dress above your hips, but not off your body completely. You turn around for Yunho to face your back, hands finding the bed so you crawl on the bed for him to see. Your knees are on the edge, but finding balance is easy when you arch, wiggling your ass in the air.

The nylons are still on, but the see-through fabric adds a layer of sexiness. Yunho’s fingers graze your ass, stuck on squeezing and spreading your cheeks. It makes your pussy lips move with it, opening and closing against your clit softly. 

It’s such a tiny movement to your pussy, but with how you’ve been ignoring its leaking, it feels like so much more. You moan in the sheets, gently rocking yourself back and forth to try and get Yunho to spread your ass more.

“Jesus Christ.” He puts his thumb on your pussy, guiding it against your slit until he finds the bundle of nerves underneath your nylons and underwear. “I can feel how wet you are. You need it real bad, huh?”

His fingers are muted from the layers of clothes, but that doesn’t stop you from whining. You press back until his thumb is hard against you, swiveling your hips for friction. 

“Yesyesyes. So bad. I want your cock.”

His one thumb turns into multiple fingers. You sing with pleasure, showing no shame as you ride his hand until you feel the subtle, but familiar feeling coil in your stomach. Your styled hair is now a mess as it covers your eyes from how hard you’re rocking. Though you can’t see, you can feel the arousal leaking down your thighs and gather at your nylons.

Your orgasm comes quickly. It gets easy to grind on his fingers when your body is desperately chasing the high. “Cumming! Fuckfuckfuck, I'm cumming.”

You lift yourself on your forearms, halting all your movements to let the blinding pleasure wash over you, hot and delicious. Moans tumble past your lips. The tiniest bit of drool seeps from your mouth as you shake. You rock again, this time, to milk out your orgasm to completion. 

But Yunho pulls away.

A desperate cry leaves you. “W-wait. M-more. I want m-”

Familiar hands push you back into the sheets. Yunho holds you by the back of the neck, forcing you to keep your trembling ass in the air. 

Your heart races. More gasps and heavy breaths filter through your chest, but it’s an excitement that bubbles in your stomach. So much adrenaline runs through your body that half of the shaking is from your nerves. 

You just know he’s going to fuck you good.

“You came on my hand and you’re already asking for more?” Yunho tuts. “So impatient, but don’t worry, you’ll get it. Girls like you love cumming their brains out, huh?”

There’s no denying that. You nod in the sheets and whimper a pathetic yes, but Yunho approves nonetheless.

“Yeah, that’s why you’ll take any cock you can get, right? Even if it’s a stranger…” His free hand smoothes over your ass, but once he finds a good grasp on your nylons, he yanks. Your entire body pulls back from the force. You have to grab onto the mattress to not slip off the bed. 

“Even if it’s a man who’s almost twice your age…”

Another harsh yank and you hear fabric tear. Yunho pulls and pulls until your ass and cunt are free from the material. It’s only your underwear in the way, but you doubt that’ll be a problem.

Yunho leans down until he’s at your ear. Your body breaks into chills. He feels everywhere. He is everywhere from how big he is. You know you’re safe, but the thought of being at his mercy heightens your pleasure.

“Don’t worry, sweetie. I’ll buy you a new one.” He sweetly pecks your head and pulls away.

You’d laugh from the drastic switch-up, but you moan instead when you feel his fingers at your cunt. He plays with your folds through your panties, poking where your entrance is and smearing the arousal staining the underwear. 

You’ve never been this wet before. It usually takes some lube or way more foreplay, but Yunho turns you on in ways you didn’t believe were possible. His deft fingers and how his brown eyes can be warm but threatening. Everything about him is captivating and you can only hope he thinks the same about you.

With a finger hooking to the side of your panties, he tugs until your bare cunt is finally freed. You clit peeks from your hood, throbbing between your lips desperately. 

For the first time since you’ve met him, you feel nervous. Yunho stares at your pussy longer than you’re used to, making you try and press your thighs together to hide it. 

“Nuh-uh.” He jiggles your ass. “Don’t do that. I wanna see your pussy.”

You whine but obey. You put yourself face-first into the bed, ignoring how your cheeks turn red. 

Soon, the bed shifts weight and you hear the sound of a zipper. You pick up your head to look back, but Yunho forces you to face the bed. 

You pout. “I wanna seeeee.”

“You just want everything, don’t you?” Yunho sounds condescending, but he rewards you with the head of his cock. Your lower lips wrap around his tip when he grinds against your pussy, making sure to keep your underwear out of the way. “You want to cum, you want my dick, you wanna see it…And the worst part is, you’ve got such a pretty pussy that you’ll get everything you want.”

Yunho pulls back just enough to line himself up. You still haven’t gotten over how his tip felt brushing against you. He’s slicked himself up nice and wet to press, intruding on your entrance. 

You squeal. His shape opens you so easily that his size doesn’t sting at all, but makes your brain fuzzy. Though Yunho won’t let you see, you know he’s big. You turn dumb too quickly, chest burning from the oxygen he fucks out of you when he buries himself to the hilt. 

‘Oh my-...fffuucckkkk.”

Yunho groans at your moaning. He opts to hook his thumb in your panties and splay the rest of his fingers on your ass. Messily, he gathers your hair to create a makeshift ponytail with his other hand, forcing your chest up. 

Out... In... Out... In…

The pace is slow, but that doesn't mean it’s dull. Yunho pulls out until his tip is barely inside before pressing back in. When his pelvis is flush against your ass, it has you kicking your feet up and down on the bed from the overwhelming sensation. 

He feels like he’s in your ass. In your throat. You can’t escape how deep Yunho drills into you when he keeps you still by the hair, forcing you to take every unbearable inch.

You love every second of it. 

“Nghhh. Yunnhooo. Fuck meee. Fuck me pleeasseee.”

The sound of your cunt squelching echoes in the room. Yunho grunts at your command, pulling you up a few inches. 

“Yeah, you want it? You want it? Then fucking take it.”

It’s like a switch. That cautious pace turns animalistic, rough, and quick until your breasts manage to slip from the top of your dress and bounce freely. 

Your breath gets caught in your throat. There’s no sound until a harsh thrust forces the moan out. Once you start, you can stop. All you can manage are gasps and whines from Yunho’s drive. 

Every vein, every curve doesn’t go unnoticed between your walls. The repeated pistons force you to know his shape. You know he’s carving a place for him. So deep and good that you don’t think you could ever go back to hookups at your university again. 

But it’s Yunho’s tip that does it for you. There’s no you could ever unknow how it kisses your cervix or how the shape digs into you. You can't stop clenching down on it, sucking it back in over and over despite the pleasure overload you’re enduring. 

Your pussy’s in loooove.

The haziness of your mind clears a bit when Yunho pulls you up more. Your fingers barely graze the mattress, but the pain in your scalp feels dull when you look into his eyes.

They’re dark, hungry, and possessive. There’s nothing but carnal desire when you dreamily look up at them, eyes losing focus rather quickly. 

“You’re gonna cum. I fucking know you are. You cunt’s so fucking loud, it’s begging for it again.”

You swoon. Yunho knows he can make you feel good, he can feel it. Something like affection burns in your chest and you look at his pink lips. 

He grins. “You want a kiss?”

You nod, but it must look silly since your entire body is jolting. 

Yunho looks borderline psychotic when he breaks out into a smile. “Fuck. I love how young and stupid your pussy is. I’m gonna cum all over it. You’d like that, huh?”

“Loooveee iiiit.”

Yunho quickens his pace. You swear if you look down, you could see his cock poking through your stomach from the angle. Instead, you’re held to look into his eyes, vision blurring as your second orgasm approaches. It’s so much more intense than your first. Now you have something to clench on. Something to cream on when you inevitably burst. 

And with your crossed eyes looking into his, you do. You feel a burst of warmth from your stomach speedily reach your pussy. It makes you feel hot, the even hotter arousal pooling down your thighs and onto Yunho’s cock.

He moans above you. His hips grow sloppy, hitting different parts of your cunt that have you squealing. Yunho doesn’t break eye contact when he stills in you, dick throbbing as his cum shoots inside. 

The two of you stay moaning into each other's mouths, lips a mere inch away until he finally gives you what you want. The kiss is sloppy, full of breaths and moans as you messily shove tongues inside.

He swipes the inside of your cheek. He twists his tongue with yours until salvia trickles down your chin. You suck on his muscle and he does the same, pulling away with a wet smack that leaves you buzzing.

Yunho stares at you for a beat, eyes blinking as he comes to a sudden realization. “I think I'll keep you.” 

The gentle way his hands settled on your waist when he walked behind you, when you were in the kitchen making yourself a glass of water.

The lingering looks you could feel on your exposed legs when you wore shorts around his house.

The dreams you would have of him late at night, fogging up his glasses and taking everything he'd be willing to give.

The way his hands softly curled a lock of your hair around his finger when he looked down at you while you two talked, the look in his eyes, much more than attentive.

How he treated you like a sweet, chaste little girl, nibbling on the nail of his thumb, never being able to pull his eyes from you when he watched you move around his home like you belonged.

"Would you like me to reach that for you sweetheart?"

"Be careful, you could cut yourself darling."

"Bundle up, love. Or you could catch a cold."

You knew what you were doing, or at least you thought you did. But Yunho liked games, so, he played along.

You called him, "Mr. Jeong." A respectful title, one that rolled off your tongue too sultrily for Yunho’s taste.

He had a plethora of little names for you, referring to you as a little minx to his coworkers whenever they asked about how the new babysitter was faring.

He admired the way you cared for his daughter like she was your own, your smile when you played doctor with her, and your blooming creativity when she asked you to draw with her.

You were perfect in every way. Yunho's favorite part of the day was when he arrived home from work, after having put his daughter to bed. You both would share a fufilling dinner, you'd tell him about the day you and his daughter had, branch off into talks about school and how life had been treating you.

And then Yunho'd send you home, with your wage in hand and a less than innocent smile as he watched every step you took as you walked down his driveway, got into your car, and drove home into the night.

Not tonight, though; tonight was different.

Yunho wasn't home yet. You assumed he had a late-running meeting. His daughter was sound asleep in her bed, the house quiet as you were the only soul awake inside.

You wandered about as you waited for Mr. Jeong to arrive home, scrolling on your phone and passing the time.

That's when you walked past his closed bedroom door. On the second floor, the closed door beckoned to you. Yunho never really gave you any restrictions as to where you could or could not go in terms of bedrooms in the house. You were curious as to what his living space was like. Where he spent most of his time when he wasn't working, a person's room can say a lot about them.

You held your hand over the knob, listening to make sure he hadn't gotten home yet, before gripping and twisting it, pushing the door open softly.

Immediately, the smell is what you noticed first. The whole space smelled like him. Powdery, aromatic, woodsy. Fresh, clean, and sexy. The next thing you noticed was how his room looked clean, but lived in. A few ties draped over his chair near the shuttered window that overlooked the backyard pool, which you had spent many a time floating in. The open walk in closet and the ruffled sheets that hinted at a rushed morning routine.

You found yourself gravitating to his bed, sitting down on the edge, and taking in the space. Degrees laminated on his wall, a few plants placed in corners of the room, a collection of watches sitting on his desk inside an open ashwood lock box. You stood and walked to his open closet, stepping inside and looking around.

A wide array of clothes on hangers, the walk-in so large it could possibly count as another small bedroom, and miscellaneous items scattered on the top shelves. Your hands found the sleeves of one of his button-up shirts, running your fingers over the soft fabric. lost in your own little world as you intruded on your employer's space.

Click!

The sound of the closet door shutting, and before you could turn around, the room was shrouded in darkness, the light having been turned off.

Before any sound could esxape your mouth, a soft, large hand pressed over your mouth, a chest molded to your back as your front was urged against the closet wall. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, feeling undeinably big compared to you.

"Hello, sweet girl." Yunho's familar, saccharine tone dripped over your ears, and immediately you felt your body relax in his hold, and maybe the way you melted into his unexpected touch should have concerned you, but you could not find it in you to care.

"If you're looking for your paycheck, it certainly isn't in here." Even in the pitch black darkness, you could imagine the face he'd be making right now. Playful, teasing.

His hand slowly slipped from over your mouth, his fingers gently grazing your cheeks, along your chin, before finding its home at the base of your throat.

"Sorry, Mr. Jeong..." you muttered, sounding pathetic as you were unable to mask the need in your voice as you shivered under his touch. You felt his lips press against the shell of your ear, a low chuckle from him, then he pressed himself further against your back, forcing you closer to the wall.

His broad chest easily shrouding your smaller back, you felt so small in his arms and it made your blood rush with excitement. Anytime you had a conversation with him, you had to mask the giddiness in your voice when you took notice you had to physically crane your neck upward to meet his gaze. Or how when he hands you your paycheck, and his considerable, rugged hands brushed over yours.

"It's okay, sweetheart, don't apologize. You were probably just wondering where I was, weren't you?" His tone was condescending, like he knew the real answer, knew the nasty effect he had on your mind and your body.

You nodded, a barely there whimper bouncing around the dark room. Yunho groaned quietly, smiling as he pressed a whisper of a kiss against the side of your throat.

"Did you miss me?" His voice was barely a whisper, so quiet and so gentle it went straight to your gut. He felt you squirm against him, and he had his answer.

His free hand ghosted down your chest, over your stomach until it landed right above the waistband of your shorts. Unable to see anything, every part of your body felt like it was on fire. His hand stopped, waiting for you to push him off or tell him no. Instead, you pushed your hips back so your ass rubbed against his crotch, a hiss escaping his lips.

So he let his hands slip beneath your shorts, his fingers finding your embarrassingly soaked cunt. "Oh, baby..." he moaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers spreading your lips open beneath your panties, a soft whine hitting his ears as you keened into his touch. He inhaled deeply, sighing at your sweet sugary perfume that curled around his senses, and he felt lightheaded.

He slipped his fingers up your slit, the wetness so profound you could both hear it in the silent confines of the closet, and Yunho thought his brain was going to short-circuit.

"So fucking cute," he murmured, cooing when his fingertips slipped over your clit and you gasped at the sensation. Quickly, he turned your body around so your back was pressed against the wall. He fumbled in the dark until his hand found the light switch, flicking the light back on.

His cheeks were flushed and his pupils were blown wide, breathing heavily with a look in his eyes that was so far from pure you weren’t even sure if you were looking at Mr. Jeong right now.

He swallowed your lips in a filthy kiss as his hands rushed to pull your shorts down your legs, letting the fall to the soft carpeted floor. His fingers were back on you, trailing a ghost of a path from your bellybutton, over your mound, then slipping between your lips coating themselves in your arousal. He circles your entrance teasingly, grinning when you gasped at his touch. His fingers were freezing cold.

Languidly, taking his sweet time, Yunho slid his soft fingers inside your cunt. Yunho's fingers were long, perfectly so they sat against that spot inside of you that made you arch into him, your moans breathless as you felt him inside of you.

Your hands gripped his shoulders as his other hand slipped beneath your thigh, urging you to follow.

"Jump," he whispered against your lips, and you did. He pressed his body against yours, holding you to the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist, his fingers curling as he stretched you open, moving in deliberate, perpetual patterns deep inside of you.

You moaned around his tongue as he let it slide over yours, his kisses greedy and sloppy, fingers circling over your G-spot tantalizingly slow, but with just enoguh pressure that your thighs shook around him.

"You're so sweet, baby." Yunho pulled his lips from yours, kissing the corner of your mouth, smiling at the way your eyes watered and your mouth fell open when his fingers curled particularly roughly. "Want me to fuck you, huh? Wanna scream and cry for me like the good girl I know you are?"

"Yes, please, Mr. Jeong!" you cried, kissing him again as you begged for his touch. He pulled away from your lips, breathing heavily like it hurt to not kiss you. He reached up and slid his foggy glasses off his face, setting them on the shelf before he swallowed your lips again, groaning unabashedly at your taste.

When he was sure you were soaked and stretched enough, he slipped his fingers out of you, the slick sound deafening.

He brought them to his lips, slipping them into his mouth, his eyes nearly rolling when your taste hit his tongue. His hands fiddleed with his belt, the metal clanking loudly as he shoved his boxers down just enough to free his cock.

Thick, intimidatingly long, and you understood why he spent the time stretching you out. "Didn't wanna hurt you, baby," Yunho purrs against your lips, sliding the length of his through your dripping folds, lubing himself up with your slick. "That can wait for another day, when I put you in your place for snooping in rooms you don't belong."

You whined unashamedly at the guise of there being a next time, and the shameful thought of Yunho administering a punishment for your behavior.

When he was coated in your arousal, he lined himself up with your entrance, your legs tightening round his hips in anticipation. Sliding one hand behind your neck, cupping the back of it, and pressing your forehead to his, his eyes locking with yours, barely even blinking. Painfully slow, Yunho pushed himself into you, keeping your neck in place so you couldn't look away, smirking when your eyes rolled and your lids fluttered when you felt him stretch you out.

Unable to escape his burning gaze, his eyes drank every micro expression on your face, and you felt his cock jump inside of you once there was no space left between your hips, filled to the brim wth him.

He only held the back of your neck tighter, pulling his hips back and thrusting in with such a force that your breath caught in your throat. The pressure was unbearable, and the pleasure was enough to immediately knock you stupid.

Yunho grinned, keeping his hand on your neck while the other gripped the underside of your thigh, helping support you against the wall as he ravaged. And still he never pulled his eyes away from you.

Lips just barely hovering over yours, so close you could feel the skin, but never quite kissing you, your breaths and moans mingling together in the air, eyes half lidded and watery, taking everything he was giving you.

Every slip of his cock in and out of your cunt made your thigh twitch in his hold, effortlessly sliding against that spot inside of you, like he already knew where to angle his hips.

"You're so dirty, baby," he cooed against your mouth, lightly biting yout bottom lip, smiling when a particularly rough thrust sent your moans up in pitch. "Snooping around my room when I'm not home, letting me fuck you against the wall, taking it all-" he punctuated each word with a deep stroke. "So. Fucking. Well."

The eye contact was killing you, and you could already feel yourself flying towards your orgasm. "Yuhno- please, sir, I'm close."

Yunho growled, the honorific making his skin prickle and his dick throb. "Yeah, you close? Want me to cum in this pussy? Fill you up? Fuck a baby into you, huh?"

It should have scared you, make you second-guess your already bad decision. But you moaned loudly, clenched around him, and came all over his cock like a bitch in heat, as he fucked you through it. The way your body reacted to his words alone told him all he needed to know, and his mood switched like a light.

Rough, claiming, and unforgiving, Yunho drove his cock into you, the wet slapping echoing around the closet, filthy. Squeezing the back of your neck, he kissed you as he fucked you through your orgasm, sucking on your tongue, kissing you like he was trying to swallow your breath.

"Sweet girl wants me to breed her, huh?" he teased into your mouth, the hand on your thigh moving to press against your lower stomach. "Gonna fill you up, right here." He pressed down, emphasizing his point, and he could feel his cock through your tummy, eyes rolling at how big he felt inside of you.

You were crying now, hot tears spilling down your cheeks, the pleasure undeniably riveting, losing your mind to the feeling.

"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm going to make you a mommy... gonna fucking breed you, baby. You'll take it right, won't you?" Yunho felt you clench again, and he knew you were cumming. You were perfect, so willing to him, so sweet and so lovely. He'd love for you to give him another kid, maybe a boy this time.

A few more deep thrusts, and Yunho stuttered his hips, cumming inside you with a sinful groan into your open mouth, eyes finally closing as he came down from his high. His hips stilled for a moment before he began slowly moving again, barely giving either of you time to catch your breath. "Can't let any slip out, hm? Gotta make sure you stay full of me."

You whimpered, overstimulation setting in your poor cunt, the slick sound of his cum mixing with yours echoing in your ears as he began to fuck deep up into you again.

"Don't whine, you know we have to make sure it takes right, sweetheart?" Yunho pressed his lips against the shell of your warm ear, and you felt him smile against it, his hips finding a rhythm again. His free hand slid up to cover your mouth, muffling your sweet, overstimulated whines and loud cries for mercy.

"We have to be sure..."

"come here, sweetheart. let me see you," he says as he crooks a finger at you.

you crawl into his lap and his big hands immediately slide to your waist, thumbs tracing slow circles meant to ground you. his voice drops to that deep, tender register that always melts you, "ready to learn how to take all of me?"

your breath catches. "i- think so."

yunho smiles softly, "good. i'll take care of you. i always do."

he reaches to the nightstand, grabbing the bottle of lube, shaking it with a little smirk. "we're gonna use plenty today," he murmurs. "i'm not slipping inside you without making it perfect first."

your thighs clench and yunho notices instantly, pulling a laugh from his chest as his kisses your cheek. "lie back against me," he whispers. "legs over my thighs. open up for me."

you obey, trembling as you spread yourself for him. his hand cups your pussy gently, letting out a shaky breath when he feels how wet you already are.

"god baby.. you're dripping and i haven't even touched you properly yet.." his thumb circles your clit slowly, causing your hips to jerk. "there she goes," yunho murmurs. "sensitive little thing."

he opens the lube and pours some onto his fingers, the cold slick making you gasp. "shh.. it's okay," he soothes, rubbing it between his fingers. "gonna make you so ready for me."

his coated fingers slide through your folds, spreading slick everywhere. your pussy glistens, pulling a groan from yunho's throat as he drinks in the sight. "look at you," he whispers, voice cracking. "so ready to be stretched."

he slides one finger inside, and your breath stutters. "how's that feel?"

"good.. feels good.."

"yeah?" he pumps it gently, curling it just right. "this is nothing compared to me, sweetheart. but we'll get you ready."

another finger joins the first, scissoring lightly, opening you up. you whine, gripping his forearm. yunho kisses your shoulder, breathing hard. "good girl. hold onto me. let me make room for myself."

he works you open patiently, using slow thrusts and circles until you're moaning softly, hips rocking toward his hand on instinct. "you're doing perfect," he whispers. "your body listens so well."

"baby, i gotta be honest with you.." yunho mutters as he reaches into his sweats, pulling his cock free. "you're gonna feel every inch of this."

your breath stops as yunho strokes himself, coating his cock head to base with lube, breathing hard through his nose.

"don't look scared," he murmurs. "i'm not gonna hurt you, i swear."

your hand trembles as you touch his chest. "just.. big.."

"yeah, sweetheart," he says quietly. "i'm big. but that just means i get to take my time with you, give you everything slow."

he lifts your hips, lining you up with his slick head. the moment it nudges your entrance, heat bolts up your spine.

"breathe, relax. let me in," yunho whispers, kissing your jaw. he pushes forward, not past the tip but just enough to stretch you. "good girl.. good.. take it slow.."

you slip past the head, and your hand flies to his forearm, causing yunho to grip your waist firmly. "that's it," he whispers. "you're doing so good for me, baby."

he waits for your body to unclench, rubbing small circles into your hip with his thumb. "tell me when you're ready for more."

you swallow hard, "m-more.."

yunho groans like he's been punched, "sweetheart, you're gonna kill me." he sinks an inch deeper, your pussy stretching around him as your mouth falls in a silent moan.

"holy fuck, baby- you're gripping me so tight-" yunho's breath stutters.

your nails dig into his arm, "yunho.. yunho, it's-"

"a lot?" he murmurs, kissing your temple. "i know. i know, sweetheart. but you're taking me so well." he pours more lube over where your bodies meet, letting it drip down his cock and your pussy. "ready for more?"

you nod, dizzy, needy for the stretch.

"use your words, baby," yunho orders.

"yes.. yunho, please.."

"oh, fuck.. okay. okay, relax for me." he shudders as he pushes in deeper, slow enough to make your eyes roll. the stretch burns in the best way, pleasure blooming right behind it.

"you feel so good.. so good around me.. i've never- god, baby, you're perfect-" he pulls back half an inch and slides in again, deeper this time. your pussy clenches greedily around him, causing yunho's body to tremble beneath you.

"don't do that," he groans. "if you squeeze like that i'm gonna cum before you even take all of me."

"you're so big.." you whimper.

"i know," he pants. "i know. but you're taking me, look at that." he guides your hand down so you can feel how far he's inside you. "touch yourself," he whispers. "feel how open you are for me." your fingers brush over the slick skin and you gasp at how wide he's made you.

"that's right, sweetheart.. that's all me," he mutters as he lifts your hips a little, then lowering you. this time, you bottom out, every thick inch filling you completely, pulling a gasp from your throat.

yunho bites down on a moan, hands gripping your waist hard enough to bruise. "oh my god- you took all of me- baby, sweetheart, look at me-"

you meet his eyes and his expression is wrecked. "you.. you don't know what you just did to me," he whispers shakily. "fuck, i can feel your heartbeat around my dick."

"good girl," yunho growls as you tremble in his lap. "my perfect girl. so tight.. so brave.. letting me stretch you open like this." he cups your jaw, making you look at him as he begins to roll his hips, shallow strokes that drag every fat inch along your swollen walls.

"does that feel good, baby?"

"y-yes.. yunho.. feels s'good.."

yunho groans loud and broken, "fuck, i love your voice- keep talking me, tell me how i feel."

"big.. full.. so full, yunho-"

he thrusts up sharply, making you cry out, "again."

"you're so big- can feel you everywhere-"

yunho loses control, his hips snapping up into you deeply. "that's it, baby. doing so good for me, taking me like you were made for it.. god, you're perfect."

your orgasm hits sharply, ripping through you as your pussy clamps down around his cock.

yunho groans loudly, thrusting up one more time, "i'm cumming- fuck, baby.. i'm-" he spills deep inside you, filling you with thick pulses of heat while he holds you plush against his chest.

"Yuyu," you called out softly, which caught his attention for a brief moment before he focused on his game again, but hummed to let you know that he was listening.

"M'bored," you murmured as you tossed your phone somewhere on his bed before getting up to go over to him. Clearly, he was getting the most kills in his team and carrying it.

You moved over to him, getting under his arm to straddle his lap, earning a soft huff from Yunho as he continued to play his game.

"Need my attention that much?" He teased, resting his chin on the top of your head as you nodded. "I'll just finish this round, and you'll have my full attention."

Your relationship was blurry. The two of you were friends, but something had been budding between you for the past few weeks, and you couldn't bring yourself to ask just yet.

"But I want your attention now." You grunted, shifting slightly as you blocked his view from the screen.

Yunho was much taller than you, so he managed to still see a bit of his screen, but you decided to be a brat today.

He grunted out your name, giving you a look that said "stop being a brat". But you weren't listening, making him leave the game mid-round, screwing the fact that his account would get a penalty for it.

"You're acting exceptionally bratty today, aren't you?" He muttered, pinching your side, which caused you to yelp and squirm on his lap. It made Yunho's breath hitch for a millisecond before recovering.

He knew he was in trouble. Yunho has been having difficulty controlling himself lately, especially with you.

"Stop squirming, pretty girl.. or I won't be responsible for what I'm gonna do to you."

You stopped moving around, pausing as your body suddenly felt all tingly and sensitive. Like your senses were now in a hyperaware state.

Then you felt it. The poking sensation against your ass that wasn't there earlier when you sat down on his lap. You swallowed thickly.

"Yuyu.." you murmured hesitantly, a nervous chuckle leaving your lips, "That... That's your phone, right-?"

"Baby, we both know it's not."

The nickname made you shiver and shy away from him, but he kept you steady on his lap, squeezing your sides.

Your best friend was hard, and it was because of you.

"Are you going to continue being a brat, or are you gonna behave for me?" He murmured, though it was clear that you were going to test him. You always did.

You ground your hips down on him, Yunho's head tilting back on his gaming chair as a guttural groan came out of his throat.

"Brat," he muttered, grinding his hips up to match your grinding.

The two of you were dry humping each other, soft mewls and groans filling the small room. Yunho leaned his forehead against yours, his nose grazing yours gently as your breaths mingled.

He licked his lips, eyes darting down to yours before looking back into your half-lidded gaze. His hands roamed and squeezed, itching to touch your soft skin.

"You're so pretty like this, fuck.." Yunho murmured, leaning in closer just to graze your lips, hesitant to kiss you, while still grinding against you.

"Yuyu, kiss me," you blurted out, making him moan softly, muttering a soft "okay" before pressing his lips against yours.

The way Yunho kissed was desperate, especially when you were making such sweet noises against his mouth, his hips continuing to grind up against you, his erection grinding against your clothed ass.

It was an overwhelming feeling—being like this with Yunho. You tried to keep up with him, but it was hard.

"Fuck, I've been wanting to do this for so long," he muttered against your mouth before biting your lower lip gently.

Yunho seemed desperate, because he really was. He'd been holding back on doing things to you when you sat on his lap or were just close enough to him. He'd recite baseball statistics in his head just not to get hard before, but now he didn't have to hold back.

He continued to kiss you with increasing fervour, swiping his tongue to test the waters with you. When you opened your mouth slightly, he thanked the gods above.

Fucking his tongue into your mouth, you moaned, your hands moving and pawing his shoulders as your tongue tangled with his.

You hadn't expected this to happen, but you were definitely not complaining.

Moving your hands from his shoulders, you ran them through his hair, tugging gently, making him growl against your lips and pull away.

"Keep being a brat, and I'll suck your tits until you're crying for me to stop," he threatened, but that only made you want to defy him.

"Do it then... empty threats don't—" you cut yourself off when Yunho pushed your T-shirt up, revealing your breasts.

"No bra? Are you trying to drive me insane?" He clicked his tongue, bringing his large hand towards the soft mound, squeezing and brushing his thumb over your hardening nipple.

Yunho fondled your breasts, enjoying the softness of your warm skin against his palms. He then leaned down and brought a nipple to his mouth, causing you to moan at the wet feeling of his tongue swirling against your sensitive nub.

"Yunho, fuck—" you moaned out his name, making him groan against your mound, sucking and licking harder.

He'd never expected this to happen in a million years. Sucking your pretty tits like this on his gaming chair, and making you moan for him.

Yunho switched between your breasts, making sure the other wasn't neglected. He stopped when you were writhing on his lap, panting and looking fucked out, even when he hadn't even fuck you yet.

"So beautiful," he murmured, still playing with your nipples, overstimulating you.

"Yunho, stop—" you whined, but he tutted softly.

"You started this by being a brat, now take your punishment like a good girl." He looked at you, then back at your breasts, already addicted to them.

"Yuyu, you're being mean..." you pouted, your throat dry when you remembered about his "problem" pressing against you.

As if reading your thoughts, Yunho bit his lip, realisation of the situation washing over him, contemplating something before speaking up. "We don't have to, I can deal with it later—"

"I want it." You cut him off, looking at him, set on your decision. You wanted to fuck your best friend.

"Are you sure-? We really don't have to," he murmured, trailing off, though the truth was that he really wanted to sink his cock inside your heat, feeling how hot your clothed pussy felt against his erection.

When you gave him a nod, he almost came in his pants, having wanted this for so long. He moved you a bit on his lap so he could push his sweats down along with his boxer briefs.

And holy shit, he was big.

You expected Yunho to be big; it was obvious from, well, everything about him. He was tall and lean, and now, you knew he had a big dick.

"Are you gonna keep gawking or are you gonna ride me?" He teased, making you hit his shoulder. He laughed softly before grabbing a condom from his drawer. "Help me put it on, pretty girl?"

You shuddered at the offer, only to nod as Yunho's hands steadily held yours, putting the condom on his dick. It had been leaking with precum and had a shiny pink tip.

He groaned at the feeling of your hands on him, his jaw clenching.

"Fuck. Lift up, I gotta see that pretty cunt of yours," he panted, looking down at your shorts. He would've ripped them off if he could, but he was going to control himself.

Listening to him, you pushed yourself up, moving the gussets of your shorts and panties to the side, revealing your already glistening cunt. You were so wet it was embarrassing.

"All this just because I made out with you and sucked your tits?" He gaped at your folds, moving his fingers to gather some slick before sucking his digits clean. "Fuck.. if it weren't for the fact that I want my cock inside you right now, I'd have you splayed on my bed and eating you out."

That confession made you flush, not expecting your best friend to have such a dirty mouth. He was usually so sweet — teasing and relentless, but sweet, not this dirty talker.

Noticing your expression, Yunho laughed softly, knowing you'd never seen this side of him before. He then tugged you closer to him, hotdogging his cock against your folds, a moan leaving your lips at the feeling.

"Moaning for me again already?" He grinned as he rocked his hips up, grinding against your slit, his tip nudging against your pudgy clit.

"Shut up and fuck me, Yuyu.." you panted, your fingers grasping the material of his hoodie to ground yourself. You knew you were acting like a brat, but you didn't care at that moment. All you wanted was his thick length inside you.

"Always a brat when you don't get what you want, don't you?" He clicked his tongue, positioning himself against your entrance, and started pushing in without a warning, surprising you.

"Y-Yunho-!" You squeaked out, legs trembling as you sank on his dick, burying your face into his shoulder as you tried not to scream.

"Fuck, you're so tight," he grunted, his toes curling against his carpeted floor while leaning further against his gaming chair to watch you twitch and writhe above him.

Once Yunho was fully seated inside you, being full of his cock, you were still trembling. It was a lot. You felt full. Full of his cock—full of everything.

"You gonna move or do I have to do all the work for your bratty ass?" He huffed, his words more playful than degrading, but you had to learn your lesson for making him leave mid-game.

So, Yunho, being Yunho, started moving in shallow, upward thrusts. It made your breasts bounce a bit, as soft moans left your throat, his tip hitting that spongy spot inside you every time.

"You look so perfect... I should've done this earlier, you know? You don't know how many times I had to hold myself back before, those times when you walked around in that fucking skirt, driving me insane and aching. Now, you're gonna feel everything—every time I had to hold back, fuck my hand and think of you."

His thrusts got more intense, putting more effort into them and making you bounce on his dick more, emitting more whimpers from you.

"That's it, moan for your best friend like the pretty slut you are. Fucking hell— your cunt is squeezing me so tightly.. do you like being called a slut by me, pretty girl?"

Your walls squeezed at the pet name, shaking your head.

"Ahhh, it's the nicknames, isn't it? My pretty girl... So pretty, letting me use her like this."

Yunho was teasing, still in control of the situation as he used your hips for support, slamming his length roughly now, a cry leaving your throat.

"You can take it, right? I know you can, you wanted to be punished so bad, you practically begged for it." He groaned, not being able to help himself but talk to you like this.

Never in a thousand years did you expect to hear Yunho say such filthy things to you, but you liked it. You'd be lying to yourself if you said you didn't like this version of Yunho.

The rough, dominant, dirty-talking version of your best friend, whom you only knew by his silly golden retriever-like personality. The duality was going to cause you whiplash.

Every time Yunho thrust up, his chair would squeak, the roughness dizzying you, which reduced you into a wanton mess.

"All whiny now that I'm fucking you stupid, huh?" He muttered, pressing soft kisses on your chest, contrasting the rough pace he had set.

He was so fucking addicted to your tits. Yunho couldn't help but bring one of your nipples into his mouth again, sucking hard as he fucked your sopping pussy harshly.

You could feel the heat building up in your abdomen, the sensations of both his rough fucking and the sucking of your breast bringing you to the brink of your orgasm.

"Yunho, I'm gonna cum—" you moaned, making him move his thumb to your clit, rubbing the nub in circles and focusing on coercing you to your orgasm.

A broken whine came out of you once you went over the edge, your velvet walls spasming around Yunho's cock, causing him to cum in hot spurts into the condom he was wearing.

You were twitching, back arched, and Yunho's face was buried in your breasts, inhaling sharply.

"You good..?" He asked, voice muffled, while looking at your pretty face.

You looked beautiful—hair sticking to your forehead, expression contorted in pleasure. It was going to be engraved in his brain forever.

Recovering after your initial orgasm, you only managed to answer with a soft hum before hugging him.

"That's all you got, Yuyu?" You taunted breathlessly, earning a mix of a groan and a laugh from him.

"You're really testing me, aren't you?" He shook his head before deciding to order you around.

"Get on the bed, ass up, face down. Don't want the neighbours to file a complaint because I'm railing your pretty pussy into my bed."

Pulling out of your heat was groan-inducing, already missing the tightness of your sweet cunt. Yunho watched you discard your shorts onto the floor, getting on his bed just like he asked you to.

And good lord, the sight almost made him cum again.

Your pussy was glistening and puffy, slick running down your inner thighs, while your face was buried into his soft pillows.

"Fuck, you're gonna be the death of me," he muttered to himself, rubbing his face before getting up from his chair and discarding the used condom into his trash can.

He soon went over to you, climbing the bed and positioning himself behind you. When he was about to grab another condom packet from his nightstand drawer, you grabbed onto his forearm and shook your head.

"I wanna feel you.." you mumbled out hoarsely, looking back at him with pleading eyes.

Fuck. Did you really want him raw?

Yunho swallowed thickly, unsure of what to do. But after a minute of thinking it through, he decided to throw caution to the wind, wanting this as much as you did.

"Mmn, okay— but I don't promise I won't be rough.. Though I feel like you like that."

He sank into you more easily this time; the feeling of your unprotected walls was mind-shattering. Yunho had to take a deep breath once he bottomed out inside you again, his cockhead kissing your cervix at this angle.

Slapping your ass, you squealed against the pillows, trying to move forward, but Yunho was faster, bringing your hips back towards him as he clicked his tongue.

"Ah, ah.. don't run away from me, you wanted this," he murmured in mock sweetness, reminding you of how you did want this, and it was your fault in the first place.

You shuddered when he started to move, his pace ruthless as pathetic, muffled moans filling the room, accompanied by Yunho's grunts.

Another swat to your ass, harder this time around, made your pussy clench around him, slick, making your pussy more slippery and squelch.

"Fuck, such a good girl for me, squeezing my cock just right.. you're gonna be good for me, right? Let me cum inside you since you wanted to be fucked raw." He panted against the back of your neck, leaning his chest against your back. "Your pussy is so good to me, princess, so good."

"Yunhoo–" you whined against the pillow, gasping as he abused your hole with his thrusts, his grip on your hips bruising. Your brain couldn't keep up with the pleasure, your back arching as he continued to pound into you like it was the only thing he knew.

"Gonna get addicted to this pussy, baby, you shouldn't have let me do this... fuck." He brought one of his hands to your breasts, squeezing and tweaking your nipple, earning another cry from you.

His thrusts were getting sloppier, your cunt squelching at the pounding you were receiving. It was lewd and animalistic, but you didn't want him to stop. Not when you were so close—

When Yunho suddenly pulled out, you cried out in disapproval, disappointed at the loss of his thick length.

He then flipped you over, now facing him, and saw your pouting expression. It only made the man above you chuckle, cooing softly.

"You can cum later, I'm not done with you yet."

Yunho pulled your hips in closer, hooking your legs over his shoulders as he pinned you into a mating press, his dick feeling overwhelmingly deep.

"Yunho, I can't—" you choked out, but your best friend shook his head and kissed your ankle, soothing you.

It was a silent way of saying that you, in fact, could do it. Your pussy was sucking him in so good, and he was sure he could make you squirt in this position.

"I wanna try something, okay? Don't hold back when you feel like peeing, I want you to squirt."

"But—but the sheets—" you gasped, but it seemed that Yunho didn't care about anything else but hearing you scream his name. The neighbours and noise complaint be damned.

His hips started to move, cock driving into you like a piston as he kept you pinned down in this one position. He looked down at you with a look which was filled with both adoration and something more passionate.

"You're so pretty like this, baby." He complimented you, his hand going over your cheek to caress the soft skin.

His pelvis rubbed against your clit with every meet of his hips with yours, giving you the stimulation you need for the growing heat in your abdomen.

“Y-yunho, I– I need to—” your toes curled as you let him know that you felt like the words he described earlier. His free hand flew towards your mound, circling your clit with his thumb once more, his thrusts getting a lot sloppier and less controlled as if he were chasing his own orgasm.

“Come for me, pretty girl, milk my dick so that I can give you a big fat load of my cum…”

Yunho’s words were your undoing, your pussy clenching around his twitching length, and trying to suck him in deeper, your insides begging for his release. And he soon did, spilling deep inside you, his hips stilling as he came in hot spurts, creaming your cunt like he promised he would.

“Fuuuck..” he groaned as he pressed his whole weight onto you, which made you swat his shoulder.

“You’re heavy, get off,” you complained, but didn’t really mind it all that much, having liked the weight over your naked bodies.

After a bit, Yunho did get off, pulling out of you with a pop, leaving the two of you moaning at the loss. He watched as your hole leaked with both your releases, not being able to take his eyes off your body, before finally clearing his throat and getting up from his bed to grab you a glass of water.

“Sorry if I was too harsh on you.” He handed you the glass, helping you sit up against the headboard and pillows as you covered your body with his sheets. “I should’ve been more gentle, but I got carried away—”

“It was perfect, Yuyu.” You shook your head after drinking the whole glass, still a bit breathless from all the sex. “I just..”

You trailed off, unsure of how to phrase yourself. “You just..?”

“I didn’t expect you—the sweet gamer boy who rage quits once in a while—to have such a rough side. It was, well, surprising, is all.” You shrugged, causing him to shake his head and laugh.

“Out of everything we did, you didn’t expect that I could be rough? That’s cute.”

Yunho ruffled your hair, his eyes softening at the sight of you in his bed, your body covered by his blanket and content. It wasn’t the outcome he expected to happen, but he was definitely not going to let it go now.

he’s reassessing everything he just assumed: that you are minho’s girlfriend. he wouldn't have minded if you were. he knows his son deserves the best; he'll be happy if there's something between you, and there certainly is. he's not the type of guy who'll bring a girl home unless he has feelings for her. 

because why would he want to take a girl to study or play games at their place when that can be done outside? yeah, he knows these games and tricks too well.

“you are (name), right? pleased to meet you, young lady. you can call me yunho, drop the honorifics if you want to.”

and the thing is… he notices the way you suddenly straighten your pose. he sees the way your legs shift under his gaze, pressing together as your voice gets just a little smaller around him, nervous and slightly high. it's not about looking more feminine, it's just about making a good impression. catching every tiny nervous habit, starting from the lip-biting, the fidgeting, the way you can’t look directly at him for too long. does he enjoy it? he absolutely does.

one tiny problem though… yunho is twenty years older. a divorced dad, currently single, but so responsible and mature. knows better than to think such things about someone younger, but he can't help it, can he?

the other problem is also that he’s one fine-looking man, and you’ve grown into a gorgeous woman, someone who looks at him like he’s something you shouldn’t touch but desperately want to. 

the way you relax around minho and stiffen when he enters the room tells him everything he needs to know. but before you could completely cease to exist, minho stood up and nodded towards the hallway, hinting that it would be better for you to go to his room for some privacy and to... study.

“(name), do you want to start the project now?” and all you did was nod, getting up way too fast and already following your friend from behind. you didn't want to turn around to see his father, because you knew if you did, there would be no turning back. 

“have fun, kiddos,” he said, laughing slightly as he saw you enter the room and close the door. then yunho muttered under his breath, very quietly only for himself to hear, “yeah, studying… nice one, son.”

you are in minho’s room now. for the past hour, you've really been sitting down to study, but weren't motivated at all; your mind was somewhere else.

minho is familiar in a way that doesn’t make your pulse spike or your thoughts scramble. he makes stupid jokes, nudges your shoulder, laughs at your expressions and teases you a lot, because you are so cute when you are flustered, he said so. the laughter fades a little as he looks at you for a moment too long, taking you whole with those loving eyes… next thing you know, you are kissing him.

he kisses like someone who’s studying you carefully and respectfully. keeping a hand on your cheek, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth as if he’s afraid to push too far. he’s sweet, so incredibly gentle because he knows better not to rush or demand too much: a good boy. raised well, caring and devoted with a good heart, even when his lips move hungrily against yours.

you like him, you really do.

but you don’t feel that drop in your gut, that full-body shiver, and the quiet ruin me instinct you feel whenever his father walks into a room, or appears like a genie ready to grant your every wish. the butterflies in your stomach are calm with minho, however, once you are in the presence of mr. jeong, they don't know what to do or where to go.

his mouth is warm against yours, as he murmurs your name, pulling you closer by the waist. kissing you like you’re fragile, like he’s not sure if he’s allowed to want more, even though he is very much allowed to. you kiss him back because… why wouldn’t you? he’s kind, handsome, easy to be around, someone you can definitely call more than a friend. anyone would feel lucky to be in his lap, to have his fingers tracing patterns on their hips.

just in the middle of it when his hand slides up your back, breath catching softly, you tug on his shirt… a thought flashes through like lightning, taking a root deep inside your mind, and you wonder…how will his father's lips feel on yours? your stomach twists with guilt, heart thumps against your ribs, ready to burst out, and you’re too aware of how wrong this whole thing is. both morally and emotionally, viscerally even.

minho pulls away for air, smiling breathlessly at you, because you are the first girl who makes him feel like this. there are no words to describe it, you are just incredible. of course, he has kissed before, but never like this, with such real emotion that even he feels the butterflies flutter. “(name)...” he pants softly, cheeks flushed. “why did we never do this before?”

because you weren’t sure if you wanted to cross that line. and now every time you look at him…you see yunho. you didn't want to think about how he looked more like his father,, because usually the sons take after their mothers. they were literally like twins, only minho was a little taller, but had absolutely the same features as his father, including his mother's smile, of course, her features could be seen too.

you try to answer, only for your brain to betray you. spinning images of a deeper voice, a steadier grip, a man who looks at you like you’re trouble he wants to handle alone without anyone else interfering. minho misreads your silence as shyness and chuckles, brushing your hair behind your ear. “are you okay? if you want to slow down… i’m sorry if that made you uncomfort–” a soft knock on the door cuts him off, making both of your heads turn at the sound. 

“minho?” your entire body freezes the moment you hear him. that deep voice that made your eyes widen, and it wasn't because you were worried he would see you like that; he just had such a beautiful voice. a naturally medium-low tone, there’s a little bit of rasp when he speaks more casually, just enough to make him more charming.

and your friend’s eyes widen just like yours as he whispers, “shit– don’t move, okay? he’s gonna think, just– hold on.” he scrambles off the bed, not before gently making you hop off his lap. hair messed up, shirt slightly rumpled, trying to compose himself quickly. while you’re still breathless with swollen lips, and heart racing for all the wrong reasons.

minho opens the door just a crack, so he can take a peek with part of his head and not let his father see what is going on. mr. jeong is standing there in his coat, broad shoulders taking the spotlight, and so is his slightly longer black hair. gosh, wouldn't it be so nice to run your fingers through his soft locks while he goes down on you? 

one hand in his pocket, probably checking for his wallet and keys, his eyes flicking to minho, then past him, landing on you. sitting pretty on the edge of the bed, with a flushed face and uneven breathing like you just walked straight into a hurricane, trying so hard not to look like someone who was just pinned under his son.

yunho’s pushes the inside of his cheek with his tongue, very subtle, almost in secret, hiding the annoyance of catching you like that. he wasn't ashamed that he caught you on the spot: he knew very well what you were doing or were going to do. he just couldn't help but interrupt the fun. excuse him, he had to go out, and warn minho that he might stay late with his friends, or as they are known, his uncles.

“everything alright?” he asks calmly, perfectly masking the emotion he really feels. during his marriage to the first and only woman in his life, minho's mother — kim minsoo, even up until the divorce and after, he learned to control his emotions and the facial expressions he showed. sometimes it was a big plus, especially in situations like these, where he had to take on the role of the cool and super chill dad.

“yeah! yeah, we were just… talking.” minho laughs awkwardly, not letting the door open anymore because, well, it's embarrassing to suddenly have your dad knock on your door while you're doing things with your girl friend... or future girlfriend. the young man still wants to wait and test the waters because he doesn't want to force you to do anything you don’t want to.

the older man just hums, a sound low enough to curl inside your stomach, a vibration so sensational that you need no ultrasound or x-ray to know that something is really wrong with you. he looks at minho again, who tries his absolute best to make his dad go away as fast as possible, but he paid his son no mind, instead he gazed past him right at you again.

“excuse me, min,” apologising, as if he was really sincere about something he didn't want to happen and witness in his house...now that he thought about it, did you do anything else in the moments when he was not here? mmm, small chance, if something had happened, minho would immediately be fluttering with joy that, in fact, he has a girlfriend. these are thoughts for later, although it didn't take long to put two and two together. “didn’t want to interrupt your little study session.”

he talked with his mouth to his son, but for you, he used his eyes, which told you: i saw everything, and i know exactly what you’d prefer. yunho lingers in the doorway longer than he should, enough for you to feel his gaze slide over you like a lion ready to strike at the confused and innocent antelope, that sadly can run too fast. albeit you can never outrun and outsmart a predator, someone with too much experience and tricks up his sleeves isn’t going to back down until he has his prey between his claws and teeth.

then he finally says, sensing how it was going to be too quiet to save his or son’s ass from further embarrassment, “i’m heading out for a bit. there’s food in the fridge. if you need anything else, minho’s got money.” he emphasised the word you, considering you in the equation because after all you were a guest, and shouldn’t be left unsatisfied if you have any cravings.

“dad, it’s alright. don’t worry about it,” minho reassures him, voice getting a little annoyed by how his parent isn’t planning to leave anytime soon. that's why he doesn't like to take anyone to his dad’s place. of course, he has his own apartment, but some of the rooms are currently being renovated, and he can’t stay there.

still yunho isn’t looking at him, not even a little, as his eyes focus on you for what he can count as five seconds, before minho closes the door, saying bye. hearing the lock clicking on the front door, you and he can breathe at peace now. “sorry…” he mutters, running a hand through his hair. “he’s like that sometimes, really means no harm.”

he is like what? possessive over someone he just met. “it’s okay… it happens to everyone that a parent interrupts something at a not-so-right moment,” you mumble some vague agreement, but your thoughts are nowhere near minho’s dad’s intensity. they’re stuck on the way he looked at you just now, eyes that held love or lust, maybe both. you are too scared to analyse his motives and demeanour, like he already knew what you both were about to do.

minho doesn’t give you much time to think about it. his hand cups your face, and he kisses you again. deeper this time, a little desperate, relieved to have the house to himself. making you lie flat on your back on his soft mattress, lips never leaving yours, the soft tug of his fingers guiding you to relax and just enjoy the moment. you’re already breathless by the time his mouth trails along your throat, warm and wet, big hands sliding under your clothes to squeeze your skin. he knows you, knows what you like, especially when the little sounds you make when he touches you just right.

tilting your head back, eyes fluttering shut, letting him take you in a way he’s learned to. but even in the heat of it, when minho pulls you closer underneath him, his breath hot against your ear as he whispers your name…there’s a ghost of another touch in your mind.

a man twenty years older, who had looked at you with something dangerously close to claiming you with only a few words, letting his eyes do most of the talking. 

you shouldn’t think about him, not while minho is all over you, pulling soft moans and gasps from you, making you feel so damn good with his slender hands and slim fingers, a mouth and a mind that worships you — but in the end, you do what you shouldn’t.

wondering, if minho can make you fall apart like this… what would yunho feel like? how strong would his hands be on your hips? how different would his mouth sound when he says your name? how will he feel?

shivering and arching your back slightly, from thinking about yunho when his son goes down on you. guilt instead of pleasure, and he groans softly, spreading your legs and positioning himself between them. “you’re just… perfect,” he whispers against your skin, completely unaware that your heartbeat is racing for an entirely different reason, or that you are imagining someone else instead.

your chest is still rising and falling, even if you are excellent at acting, masking discomfort or lack of arousal, you do try to come with mimicking sounds, breathing patterns, and find physical cues. you are faking your orgasm. it’s not manipulation; not everyone has strong physical contractions before orgasming. 

it’s to avoid pressure, to end a session that isn’t working, or because you feel self-conscious about how long it’s taking for him to make you cum with his tongue. yes, he is skilled, incredible even. if it were any other girl, she would probably want more and more, but... why are you like this? it's disgusting how in such a short time your brain, no, you yourself, decided to switch from minho to yunho. your world was spinning, and it wasn't because of the man between your legs, but because of the man who was consuming your every thought.

and what it would be like if he were the one to make you see stars instead.

dinner at the jeong household is usually lively, no matter what time they eat. in fact sometimes, when the dad is out with his friends and doesn't stay up that late, he always stops by his son's favorite dining place to buy food. both men have a lot to talk about, whether it was for work or university, there was always something to say or discuss. but tonight, there’s a tension under the surface that only one of them recognises. that feeling of wanting to brag about something you've done, especially with such a beautiful girl…

minho is eating happily, humming under his breath, still flushed from earlier and too lost in his thoughts to realise he looks like someone freshly and blissfully wrecked. and he didn't blush because the food was warm or slightly spicy, merely because he was still thinking about you. seeing and imagining you in a different light now, in a different pose, like a muse. beautiful inspiration, putting some kind of spell because he's simply fascinated by you.

yunho notices everything, from the way his son’s lips tug upwards out of nowhere when eating his noodles, to not responding immediately when asked a question, since there was a delayed reaction of several seconds. lowering his chopsticks down slowly, asking casually:

“why didn’t she stay for dinner?”

minho shakes his head, snapping out of his daze. “she had other plans tonight with her friends. i drove her there to make sure she arrived safely.”

the older man just let out a hum, a soft and thoughtful sound, too neutral to be neutral. because he raised his son well when it came to manners and being a gentleman, he doesn’t look up right away at the youngster as he takes another bite. instead, he chews and swallows, ready to ask yet another question like the good parent he is.

“so,” he says lightly, wondering if he should eat the kimchi or the tteokbokki, “you and her… spending more time together lately?”

the question itself is subtle, perfectly phrased to sound like normal fatherly interest, when it isn’t. it’s calculated and measured, designed to coax exactly what he wants out of minho. and minho, bless his sweet heart, falls right into it. he blushes as his face turns strawberry red; even his ears turn red, rubbing the back of his neck, and he smiles like an idiot in love.

“uh… yeah,” he admits sheepishly. “we are a lot more, actually.”

yunho lifts his gaze to take a good look at his son. his expression is perfect, soft and supportive, that of a proud father who just wants to know if his kid is doing alright; it's completely normal to be concerned, especially if a woman appears in his life. his eyes are sharp, watching minho’s every micro-expression, analysing and assessing.

“happy to hear that, min,” he remarks with a warm smile, and minho brightens immediately at his father’s approval, “she seems like a wonderful girl.”

“i know, right? she is just amazing…  honestly, i wish i had met her sooner.”

the older nods, leaning back in his chair as he crosses his arms. “so tell me more,” he urges, not demanding his son to spill everything, “what is it you like most about her?” he phrases it like curiosity, but it sounds like a coiled interest he’s trying very hard to restrain.

“oh man– where do i even start? she’s funny, dad. like… stupidly funny. i don't want to mention that she is extremely beautiful because that is a thing on its own. and she gets me, y’know? not a lot of people do.”

“i see,” he murmurs. “she must mean a lot to you, then.”

“yeah,” minho says softly, still with that lovesick expression on his face, “she does.”

“and she’s… comfortable here, i assume?” too casual and carefully disguised as fatherly caring.

“oh, totally,” minho states without thinking twice. “not the first time she has been over, actually. if we don’t count the time when we, changmin, hyunwoo and sarang used the place to get our mid-term project done. remember when you and uncle san went on that business trip so you could take photos in namhae? it was then that she said that your apartment feels like a second home.”

yunho’s fingers tighten around his arm, just enough to betray a crack in his composure. so that's how it was, using the place while he was gone. but you were certainly in the presence of other people to do other things, it seems. yunho why are you getting irked.. as if you didn't do the same two decades ago?

“did she now?”

minho doesn’t notice the way his father’s eyes let go of that sparkle and wonder, as he keeps rambling so eagerly and proudly.

“she keeps telling me you’re ‘intimidating but in a good way.’ like… in a comforting way, i guess? i dunno, i think she respects you a lot, just like everybody else.”

respect, huh? yunho’s lips curl, almost mockingly. if only minho knew the look you gave him earlier…respect wasn’t the word.

“hmm,” the father hums once again, lowering his gaze to look at the food and hiding the fact that, as much as he loved his son, he wanted to laugh at how naive he was sometimes. don’t get him wrong, okay? it's just that if he’s going to do something with someone, and that something includes the word romance, then try not to include the word delusion in the mix. “that’s good. glad to hear you have good people around you.”

minho beams, finally taking another bite of his rice, because he didn’t want to talk anymore. yunho watches him and thinks about you, flushed and breathless on the edge of minho’s bed. how your eyes were darting toward him earlier when you first saw each other. about how you avoided his gaze…and how your body reacted anyway. he doesn’t let any of that touch his expression, and just simply says, with that same certainty of someone who has already decided their goal and how to achieve it.

“you should invite her more often then.”

“really?”

yunho nods slowly to totally convince his son that it's okay with him to that the two of you see each other, and that he approves of you. it's okay that his son is currently considered a competition, but you know what they say — keep your friends close and your enemies closer.

“yes, i’d like to get to know her better,” and he means to know you inside and out.

a week later, you are outside the jeongs’ apartment again, and a tiny part of you wishes you hadn’t come at all. you can already feel his presence even if you don’t know if he is home because minho hasn’t told you, and you hope he doesn’t jumpscare you like some ghost or a monster ready to feast upon yet another scared soul.

you knock politely, the door swings open, and there he is. the seven deadly sins reincarnated in a human body with a mind of its own. relaxed and all casual, wearing a simple black t-shirt, grey sweatpants, hair slightly mussed like he just woke from a nap. unfair to look that good, seriously, what is wrong with him…no, what is wrong with you? stop looking at him like he's a piece of meat, and even worse, because your eyes didn't know where to focus. on his face, his hands, or the fact that, damn it, he's wearing grey sweatpants.

stop staring at his face, stop staring at his throat, at the outline of his d— okay, stop staring entirely.

“ah,” he says with that low, warm voice, covering his mouth with his hand when a yawn escaped. so you woke him up from his nap, great, just great. “you’re back.”

bowing your head slightly to show respect, hiding every thought he shouldn’t know you’re having. it's only two in the afternoon, there's no need to start the torture so early, but alas, you walked alone and fell into the trap.

“good afternoon, mister jeong.” he lifts a brow. did you sound rude? stiff? awkward? you have zero idea what tone came out of your mouth ten seconds ago, and now it’s too late to crawl into the ground. why the hell are you so stressed? it's just minho's father, you shouldn't be scared, or worried so much about what he thinks of you. because you actually don't know what he thinks, maybe you don’t want to know…or do you? so many questions are running in your head that you don’t hear him speaking.

“i told you, sweetheart,” he says quietly, stepping aside to let you in, almost not wanting to make a remark to you or sound threatening; that's not his goal. he just wants you to feel comfortable, after all, you said this is like your second home, “you can call me yunho.”

you swallow after hearing the nickname. it’s not that no one calls you by pet names or cute little nicknames, like the old lady in the supermarket, but it sounds so different coming from his mouth. “right… yunho.” his name sounds forced on your tongue, or maybe foreign, not used to calling your friends’ parents by their name, and he notices the way you were a little hesitant to do so.

minho appears behind him, cheerful and oblivious, grabbing your bag and dragging you toward the living room, rambling about the project you came for. but yunho’s eyes stay glued to you until you turn the corner in the hallway, watching you walk away like he’s memorising every step you take in his home, or should he say luring trap. there's a lot of work to do, and it's not just the chores.

now you’re sitting on the couch with your laptop open, waiting for minho to return from his room to get the books with the needed information. after you have been working for a few hours, you start to feel that subtle awareness crawling up your spine. you felt like spiderman with your spidey senses being activated the moment you sensed some kind of a warning threat.

yunho walks into the living room, a mug of coffee in hand. he doesn’t announce himself, doesn’t need to; it’s his home, he can go whenever he wants. but you still needed a place to study, so he didn’t come into the room so as not to disturb you. he would mostly sit in the kitchen or his room, reading something or dealing with his photography work.

he sits in the armchair across from you, angled just enough that his knees point toward you, not the tv. completely resting, enjoying the peace and quiet that you brought when you visited. “working hard?” he asks, sipping from his drink.

“trying to.” you nod, too focused on looking at your screen to find the perfect images for the presentation. his gaze drifts from your laptop to your fingers resting on the keyboard, and to your exposed collarbone. a nice outfit, he thinks, a skirt with tights and a crop top, it's not something scandalous or revealing, but it leaves a little to his imagination.

“minho tends to slack when he’s comfortable,” he murmurs before pausing because that made you take a look at him. “and you make him very comfortable.”

“is that your way of saying i’m a bad influence?”

“no, if anything… you’re very good for him.” he chuckles, shaking his head at your question, maybe even an accusation, it seems it is. even so, he’s staring at you in a way that doesn't match his words.

“then why do you look like you don’t want me here?”

heat starting to sweep across his features before he masks it again. “don’t mistake restraint for dislike. you’re plenty welcome here, anytime and any day.”

your pulse speeds up because you don't know what to say in return. do you say thank you, next or just pretend that you are not clicking random apps on your laptop so you seem occupied. there’s a long silence before he adds again:

“though i do wonder… why you seem nervous around me?”

"i'm not nervous.” you try to sound indifferent, bored even, but he smirks at the way you play hard to get. a ghost of a smile that makes your stomach twist. 

“no?” he leans back in the chair, like settling in for a show. stretching out, spreading his long legs casually in a way that’s anything but that. “then why won’t you look me in the eyes?” 

you force your gaze up to meet his, and immediately regret it. his eyes pin you in place, like he’s reading you, memorising every twitch and breath you couldn’t take, undoing you without even touching you. he studies you openly, like he has every right, and even if you didn’t want to let him do that, you still did.

“what do you think about,” he murmurs, a tone and intonation so teasing that the red lamp in your brain can't stop malfunctioning. “when i walk into a room?”

your mind goes blank. you blink at him, stunned that he’d actually say something like that out loud. you can’t answer that; he knows you can’t. he leans forward, setting his mug on the small glass table with a quiet clink, elbows rest against his knees, pulling him closer even if he is not directly next to you. voice dropping so low it feels like a warm breath dragging across your skin, edging and torturing you to finally crack.

“because i know,” he says, eyes fixed on your mouth before lifting to your eyes again, “it isn’t the same thing you think about when minho walks in.”

your heart is going to burst at any given second from panic and shock. you open your mouth to say something, defend yourself in some sort, but footsteps echo down the hall. yunho stands immediately, mask sliding into place so seamlessly it makes you dizzy. minho walks back in, smiling while holding a bunch of text and notebooks in his hands.

“sorry, it took a long time to find it! i— oh, hey dad.” 

yunho smiles, the perfect father again. the transformation makes him look like a completely different man. “i was just keeping her company,” he says jokingly alas, you know it’s no joke. “don’t keep her waiting, or someone might steal her away.”

you choke on absolutely nothing when minho plops onto the couch beside you, totally oblivious. but as yunho walks past, he pauses behind you, waiting for minho to get up again, even if it's just for a few seconds to be distracted, enough for you to hear the quiet, subtle whisper he hides behind a sip of coffee: 

“when my son isn’t home…” you froze, you couldn't move from the tension. “…you’ll ask me what you really want.” then he walks out of the room like nothing had happened, and you’re trying your very best not to pack your things and leave, not caring if you get a bad grade on this stupid project.

god, it’s starting to feel dangerous, like you started a game where you don't know how to play or what the rules are. and worse, you don’t know if you want to save yourself anymore, or just wait until you reach the next level. there must be better rewards there, right? no matter how tough the challenges along the way will be, and regardless of the fact that the mastermind behind the game you started was yunho himself.

you worked all day, and by the time the project is wrapped up, it turned night. you’re packing your things when lightning cracks across the sky, and raindrops drop down the glass so hard it looks like the house is underwater. the storm rolls in like it was waiting for the exact moment you shouldn’t leave. minho looks out, frowns, then turns to you with that worried look on his pretty face, like a cute little puppy ready to protect his owner. “no way i’m letting you go out in that weather,” he urges, already getting up to make his position clear. “stay for the night, dad won’t mind.”

you hesitate, because you didn't want to stay, and it's not that he couldn't drive you to your place, but taking the risk and driving in weather like this was a suicide mission. trying to open your mouth to protest, you’re suddenly standing in the bathroom with an oversized shirt and some pants in your hands.

minho’s shirt still smells freshly laundered, maybe not even worn for a long time, but you pull it on anyway, because you have no other choice since you didn’t expect to have a sleepover at the predator’s den.

a few minutes later, when you were ready and changed into your “pajamas”, you find yourself walking toward the guest room minho set up for you. fingers tugging the hem of the shirt, considering it’s too big, falling mid-thigh, sleeves swallowing your hands, when you nearly run into him. standing by the door of the living room, turning off lights, but he freezes the second he sees you.

completely still, like the storm outside has nothing on the one in his heart. his gaze drops slowly, taking in your bare legs, the oversized shirt, the way it hangs off your shoulder just a little. he couldn't understand how someone could look so good in such ordinary clothes. did you know that this t-shirt was his? probably not, since he had given it to his son a long time ago as a gift. it wasn't even that special; the design that minho thought was cool was almost worn out, but it’s still sentimental to this day.

“you look…” yunho starts, then stops, brown eyes never leaving the sight of your figure, and how domestic this all feels. “…comfortable.” shrugging your shoulders, giving him that smile, the one he’s already learned to read too well. you step closer, until you’re close enough to feel the warmth of his body, the scent of the strong perfume on his skin.

“do you mind that i’m staying here?” you tilt your head, letting your voice dip just a little, making you sound so innocent, and nice, almost sorry for trashing his home and privacy. his inhale isn’t loud, but you hear it, and for a split second, you're the one who leaves him speechless. he looks at you like he could devour the question right out of your mouth, or devour you if you keep that little act going on.

“mind?” his voice is a rough whisper now. if anything, he should be thankful that it's raining dogs and cats outside because you don’t get such a view and entertainment for free. “of course not, my dear.” he takes one slow step toward you, and your back is against the wall, his long arms caging you in, crowding your space without touching you, his eyes skimming your lips before snapping back to your eyes.

“but you should be careful with that smile.” you blink up at him, pretending not to know exactly what he means, still with that defiant smile on your beautiful face. so far, so fake, he thinks. you're a good actress around minho, but not with him. he's already read the script, knowing what's going to happen, but it's up to you whether or not there's a culmination point, or the end is what you truly want.

“why?”

“because,” he’s murmuring, his breath brushing your cheek as he leans in just enough that the gap between you becomes something intimate. his gaze is lingering on your mouth, those sweet lips that will probably taste like honey, then going back to stare into your eyes with that determination of someone you shouldn't mess with, “you don’t look innocent in my clothes.” 

the way he said it gave you literal chills, because it's his t-shirt? and he only smirked when a flash of lightning illuminated the hallway, and he stepped back at the last second, enjoying your reaction, your willingness to resist your needs. 

as minho calls your name, yunho’s eyes flick to the cotton tee one more time as his expression resets instantly, to that calm and fatherly energy. as if he wasn't ready to kiss you here and now, while his son wasn't in his room or wherever. this is going to sound cruel, even insensitive, but in this play, minho is just a pawn, a secondary character who contributed to nothing but his own doom.

“you should get some rest, big day of studying tomorrow,” just before he turns away to go to his room, he adds so quietly you almost think you imagined it. “…sweet dreams, sweetheart.”

you don’t know if it’s a promise disguised as politeness, or a boundary disguised as permission. maybe it’s a line that he has now placed directly at your feet, waiting to see if you’ll step over it… but what you didn't know was that you were almost at the finish line.

you can't sleep, can't even relax with all the tossing and turning, trying to doze off for a little while, but you really can’t. you just opened your eyes and stared at the ceiling, breathing a little heavy because you were angry about something, irritated, perhaps a little disappointed. running a hand over your face, which smoothly flowed down your body, over the t-shirt until it reached your shorts, and you pressed your legs together, rubbing them.

what a sinner you are, and what a temptation he is.

it wasn't that you couldn't satisfy yourself, even though you weren't really in the mood for it, but the hormones inside you wouldn't stop raging. and it would be a bit impudent to do something like that in someone else's home, because how will you explain why the sheets are stained? yeah, you won't take any chances. maybe you'll just get up to drink some water, or even splash a bit on your face to wash those filthy thoughts away.

thunder rolls somewhere in the distance, softer now, which means the storm is starting to pass. you expect the kitchen to be dark, for you to be alone, maybe steal something sweet from the fridge, except someone had already occupied the place before you.

the air in the kitchen smells like rain and…smoke? it’s definitely cigarette smoke, even though the window is still cracked open, the scent lingers filling your nostrils.

you tell yourself that you didn’t just catch a glimpse of yunho’s silhouette framed by moonlight, shoulders broad, one hand resting against the window frame as the other flicked something subtle and glowing out into the dark. a thin ribbon of smoke curls up in front of him, watching him exhale slow and steady into the night like a man hiding a habit he’s not willing to explain. it's kinda hot.

you pretend to be blind and deaf, but the second his voice strikes you, all that pretending snaps like a cheap wire put to mask the real trap ahead. he doesn’t turn around; already knows you’re there the second your foot meets the tile.

“did i wake you up, sweetheart?”

the pet name hits first, then the tone. it’s so soft, polite, you can catch the raspiness of the sleep, which he paused for this. you didn't know he smoked; you’ve been here so much, and you've never seen lighters or cigarette packs before. minho never mentioned it, because he doesn’t smoke. you’ve never smelled it in his car, his clothes, anywhere, until now.

you freeze halfway to the sink, about to quietly back away and mind your business, pretend you saw nothing. he stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray that sat on the balcony ledge, hidden from no one and appearing out of nowhere, closing the window in the process.

“i’m sorry if the squeaking door woke you,” he adds, footsteps approaching at a lazy, unhurried pace, but you heard him sit down on one of the chairs at the table because the wood scratched the floor slightly. “it drives minho crazy, but he’s used to it by now.”

no door squeaked; you heard absolutely nothing.

instead you took a cup, ready to fill it, but you swallow your spit so painfully hard, gripping the glass a little tighter. “ah, no… i just got thirsty, mr. jeong.” he doesn’t answer immediately, and you can feel him right behind you now, even if he is sitting two meters away. you lift the glass to the faucet, letting the water run to cover the sound of your breathing.

a quiet hum coming from him, “mr. jeong,” he repeats, slower this time, tasting the words as they amuse him. “you don’t need to be that formal with me. didn’t i tell you to call me yunho?”

your fingers tense around the glass, still, you don’t turn. you know yourself too well. if you look at him like this in the middle of the night, voice dropping low, smoke still ghosting his breath, you won’t be able to hide anything.

“yes, right i um–,” you mumble. “sorry, still getting used to it.”

“don’t be,” chuckling at your behaviour, and you can imagine the smirk on his face even if you don’t see it. “it’s cute.”

the faucet shuts off; you realise you turned it off without thinking. hand trembled slightly, you were trying to breathe normally, not as if you were about to be given a death sentence. bringing the glass to your lips, you still don’t turn around. you wanted to say something, to break this silence that wasn't awkward at all, but quite heated.

“do you always smoke?” you ask, deflecting, merely testing while poking the beast with a stick. he notices, and he loves it. you are so sweet and gorgeous, he would really eat you for breakfast, lunch and dinner if he could, or if there was no one else in the apartment. and you are even cuter when you pretend that you don't want it either.

“to be fair, no,” noting smoothly, playing with his fingers, but his eyes were digging holes in your back. “just on nights when i’m… restless.” you can’t tell if that was meant to sound suggestive or if you’re just hearing everything through a filter of tension.

“so, you and minho are getting along well?”

you blink at your water, throat suddenly dry even if you took a big sip, “of course… we care about each other.”

yunho leans forward, elbows on the table, and the faint kitchen light makes him look every bit the man minho might grow into one day, but never quite match.

“you’re close with my son, and i’m glad for that. he looks happy around you, and that tells me a lot about you.”

it sounds genuine, and surprisingly, it is. of course, aside from the dirty thoughts about you, and the fact that you're the same age as the young man who sleeps peacefully and deeply in his room. one thing yunho is grateful for is that when his son falls asleep, he becomes like a bear in hibernation.

“like what?”

the older man just smiles at your rhetorical question, because truthfully, what does he know about you? oh well, maybe the fact that minho hasn't stopped talking about you in the last two months since he's been here until the renovations are finished. the important question here is, what does he not know? and you'll be surprised how little he doesn't know about you.

“that you give your attention very generously…” his gaze flicks down your body and back up, subtly biting his lower lip. the way he looked at you… shame on you, not knowing what you're missing in your attempts to swallow your ego and the fact that you're such a good girl. “…but only to the ones who’ve earned it.”

“and you think you’ve earned it?” you fire back, a little provocative and teasing, but be careful what you say, and how you say it, because yunho is a person who remembers. he can always use your words against you, and you don't want to see that side of him so early.

“no, darling...perhaps not yet.” he chuckles, truly smitten by you, and you're nothing like his ex-wife. even though in some ways, minsoo was like that when she was young, but she didn't pull any tricks — showed him right away that she wanted him. but back then, it was different; there weren't such taboo things like the age difference, or the fact that the father liked his son's girl friend. and you and minho aren't together yet, so to some degree, even secretly, he can afford to do such things. “but i know how to, so don’t you worry your pretty little head about a thing.”

the glass nearly slips from your fingers, and you are still with your back to him, and you know it’s rude for you to stay like that, but you are not ready to give in yet. because if he knows how to gain your attention, let him work for it. the fact that you have some kind of attraction to him doesn't mean anything right now, because nothing but secret conversations and glances have happened so far. 

and your problem is that you like to see how much redder the flag can get. even if he's going to sleep right now, leaving you to ponder alone about how you got into such a mess in the first place.

for the past three months, your attitude has changed. yunho notices how you dress a little nicer when you know he might be home. a short skirt or a dress, depending on the weather outside. sometimes it’s something soft and feminine, sometimes tight enough that it hugs every line of your body like you’re offering it to someone. minho thinks it’s for him, and of course, he does, with all the smiles and red cheeks while complimenting you shyly.

but yunho knows better; he knows who you’re actually dressing up for.

you avoid calling him by his name, because it sounds too domestic to just leave your lips, even if he tells you there's nothing to worry about, he won't eat you... or at least the plan is not to, as of now.

“there’s nothing to be afraid of,” he tells you. “i don’t bite.” it’s a lie, because he absolutely would, and you both know it.

you still remember the incident when you caught him smoking, and it left a core memory in your mind. hair messy, shirt slipping off his shoulder, cigarette hanging lazily between his fingers, you thought you’d forgotten how to breathe. the moment you went home the next morning and used every toy you owned, pathetic and angry, crying into your pillow because it wasn’t him. trying to chase something that didn't felt even half as good as the fantasy you kept in your head. your body already chose him before your mind could catch up. you felt sorry for yourself, thinking that sleeping with someone's father was going to be so hard, but at the same time so easy.

you get turned on just by hearing his voice. when yunho cooks dinner in front of you and minho, it’s torture. the way he dices vegetables with those big hands… hands that could do much, much worse things. the low hum in his chest when he tastes something he’s made. the soft grin he gives you whenever minho isn’t looking. god, even the way he explains photography to you is sinful. he stands behind you, chest brushing your back, hand covering yours as he adjusts the lens. teaching you how to properly hold it so your photos come out better and more professional.

“not like that, sweetheart. watch my fingers,” and you do watch too closely, because you wonder how his fingers will feel somewhere else.

and speaking of the camera — the photoshoot minho begged him to lend his camera for, the photos you immediately posted on instagram? your friend forgot to delete the ones that were a little too suggestive, the ones where your shirt slipped, where your lips looked parted and kiss-bitten.

good thing he didn't, otherwise how else would yunho have spent half the night jerking off quietly in his room, hand over his mouth, replaying those photos of you on the big computer screen? fuck, you look so hot at this specific angle and the pose you did… shit, shit, shit, he was about to come, imagining it was your hand not his, or maybe your mouth sucking him off, better one, milking him dry with your pretty cunt. he came with your name in his mouth.

and in between all that, there were moments, secret and filthy things that minho never noticed.

like when you are in a cramped spot, and yunho’s hands find your waist. gentle and guiding, fingers tightening just slightly as he moves you aside, squeezing your hip, his thumb dragging lower than necessary. and he always leans in just enough for you to feel the bulge in his pants, to whisper filth against your ear.

“keep wearing skirts like that, and i won’t be able to behave.”

you pretend to be annoyed, rolling your eyes, scoffing, pretending he means nothing. but you never move away, or push him off. he’s the golden-retriever type — loyal, friendly, a mood-maker. just like the dog, he is not suited to be left alone for long periods after getting attached. they follow and wait by the door when they’ve chosen someone. 

sometimes you walk past each other in the hallway, and he presses a palm against the small of your back, fingers lingering with a warm touch. “move, darling,” he murmurs behind you, thinking that one day you’re going to beg him to keep his hand right here.

not ready to give in yet? why not drop the act and admit you’re practically offering yourself at him?

like you don’t lean back into his touch, as if you don’t crave more. if he is a dog, then you’re the cat pretending not to care. brushing past him, all attitude and sharp claws, acting indifferent while your tail curls around his leg.

the push-and-pull between you lasts weeks, months even. he is playing the long game, and so are you. even with minho getting closer, subtly asking you out, you never give him a real answer. you never give him a chance to become your boyfriend. 

yunho praises you for that, applauds you for how convincingly you act around minho, and how you dodge every attempt the boy makes to define what you two are.

“smart girl,” he whispers one night at your nth visit, cigarette again between his lips as you sit prettily on that chair and observe him, while enjoying his company more than you should, “don’t let him have what isn’t his.”

minho isn’t pressuring you; he’s taking it slow, seeing you in a soft romantic light. he blushes when you touch him, gets shy when you praise him. he dreams of you in the way boys your age do, even if you don't believe that someone could be such a romantic. you feel stupid because he deserves someone else and not you.

yunho dreams of you in every way a man shouldn’t dream of someone his son brings home.

and then there was that night. you and minho got drunk with friends and called yunho to pick you up. you were so wasted, clinging to his arm, as you slid into the passenger seat.

“thank you, minho’s daddy…” you sang softly, hiccuping and just being overly nice and clingy. minho didn’t react because he was too drunk and lost in his own world to process your behavior. poor boy was on cloud 9, had to lie down in the backseat, and try not to spill everything he chugged and ate.

the older, however, nearly crashed the car. because when he carried you inside his apartment, you were all giggles and sleepy smiles. top sliding down, your breasts nearly spilling out, as your skirt rode up to reveal delicate lingerie, no, not panties. lingerie, as in sheer lace and pretty little bows. is that victoria’s secret? you came prepared, didn't you?

you slept on the couch that night, and yunho didn’t sleep at all when he helped minho get into his own bed. he stayed awake, watching your chest rise and fall, fighting every urge in his body, gripping the couch so hard he left crescent-shaped marks on the leather.

tucking a blanket over you, he tried not to look, but failed. you were just so... beautiful, calm in his presence for once, even with your eyes closed and your body relaxed. he steps back first, because he is good and disciplined, a man who sees straight through you. it’s enough to make your knees weak and pussy throb.

the way he looks at you…like he wants to bend you over right here and then, like it’s taking effort not to, as if the only thing holding him back is the thin thread of responsibility. you’ve spent months teasing him, tempting him, brushing your foot against the fire, but never stepping into the flame, and honestly, he had enough.

because one weekend of you sleeping over again, you get too bold when minho leaves with a cheerful, “i’ll be back in fifteen minutes!” as he goes to the store to grab snacks and your favorite drink for tonight’s movie night. you wave sweetly, watch the door shut, and listen to the lock click.

you shouldn’t be alone with yunho dressed like this, but that’s the entire point. sitting on the arm of the couch instead of the cushion, and he sits in the armchair at the other end. maybe you like knowing he’s trying so hard to keep himself in check, that he’s practically can’t hold it for longer when you wear shorts so tiny they barely qualify as fabric, that it’s basically an invitation. you don’t look at him at first, that would be too obvious. instead, you adjust your tank top, tugging the strap just to let it snap back against your skin.

he knows you want attention, that’s what brats do — they poke, push boundaries just to see the other party react in any way, harmless or not. except the way you poke him is by sliding your tongue over your teeth, slowly, then smiling sensually, challenging him.

that’s when he looks up. his tongue pushes against the inside of his cheek, that signature move that always means one thing: he is not annoyed or flustered…he’s mad. a muscle in his jaw twitches as he stands there, pretending he’s unaffected. you can tell he’s not with the way his gaze drags over your bare legs, the soft inhale he takes, the way his fingers tighten on his phone. he’s holding onto the last thread of self-control he has.

you did it. you made him look, feeling so proud and reckless as you stand there like you’re the one in control… but you aren’t, never were.

“you’re awfully confident today.” you can hear it in his voice that he's fed up, but you shrug one shoulder, pretending you haven’t been waiting all week for a moment alone with him. you can't be here every day, even if you wanted to, but there was one problem, and it would be back in fifteen minutes. oh, what a villain you are. you play the role of the little mermaid, charming the prince minho is, but in reality, you are a siren, luring a pirate like yunho deep into the sea of unholiness.

“maybe i just feel comfortable enough.” another lie spills past your lips, and you know he knows. no one in their right mind will dress like that when in the presence of someone's parents, or would talk and act as if they’ve never seen a man in their lives.

“funny,” he points out, watching you, and you like it, “because you only dress like that when he’s gone.”

“coincidence, no?” you raise your eyebrows, an innocent expression that hides every dirty little thought you've had so far. you shouldn’t be smug, but you are. angling your legs a little more, showing off what he could give you, a bigger reaction, you are not satisfied yet. then your stupid mouth moves before your brain can catch up. “or maybe…” you lean forward, smirking, “you’re imagining it.”

that’s the moment you push too far. the subtle change in his face, the way his eyebrows furrow, giving you that mocking i dare you look, or how his chest rises with a slow inhale when he sets his phone down.

“say that again,” and there’s nothing sweet about the way he says it. oh. you didn’t expect him to actually call out your bluff. blinking up at him, lashes fluttering like you’re clueless, pretending you don’t feel the heat between your legs.

“hm? i didn’t say anything.”

he doesn’t smile or play along. that’s the stupid thing about you: keep tugging on the monster’s tail because you like hearing it growl. because the little game you thought you were playing? he never participated.

“sweetheart,” voice dropping, turning into something that hits your spine like a shiver. he isn’t asking. he’s demanding. “don’t make me ask twice.”

rolling your eyes because you’re a brat before anything else. your smirk almost slips, but you’re too stubborn to back down, wrapped up in your own fantasy of control. you never had the upper hand. that the little game you thought you were playing wasn’t a game to him at all. the joker you thought you could play with was never in your hand, it was in his.

and now you’ve cornered yourself with your own arrogance, alone with a man who looks at you like he’s two seconds away from teaching you exactly what happens to brats who forget their place, because you’re his to deal with. unfortunately fifteen minutes would not be enough for that.

you just need one more final push before you finally end up in his bed.

you barely finish saying hi before you realise you shouldn’t have come alone, or when minho isn’t here. yunho stands in the doorway, as if he were specifically waiting for the second you’d show up, and it was giving you the chills. you're back to square one again, because that security you had, even the advantage that he couldn't do anything to you in the presence of another person, was instantly gone.

“come on in,” he says, voice already so kind, but at the same time so secretive, as if he had more to say but bit his tongue in the process. you step inside as he shuts the door. and when the lock clicks, your breath stops right in your lungs, so hard it almost hurts, making the anxiety rush through every vein and blood cell. his eyes haven’t left you since you walked in, “minho said you forgot something.” 

“yeah, just my headphones and textbooks… i’ll be quick–”

“slow down, darling, no need to hurry…” his tone slices through your excuse like a thunderbolt that has already struck more than once, “hey, (name)...you’re shaking, is everything alright?”

you weren’t shaking until now. the man steps closer, the kind of pace that tells you he’s been imagining this far longer than he should. and it was very stupid of him to ask such a question, to call you by such a name, but of course that's jeong yunho. he, whose patience has run thin, he whose emotions and needs are not met and satisfied, but only tested until the glass overflows to the point that it falls to the ground and breaks, with no way back. you will either pick up the pieces or walk on them; it’s completely your choice.

“you keep coming back here,” murmuring, reaching past you for nothing in particular, just to force you to feel the warmth of him at your back. “and every time you do… you look like you want something from me.”

“i don’t–”

“don’t lie to me.”

goosebumps appear on your skin so fast you forget what you came to pick up. for the first time in your life, you were scared and under so much stress, because it happened... you were finally cornered, the troublemaker was finally going to get her punishment. remember, you did it to yourself. you wanted him more than anything, so why do you want to run away now? suddenly you won't be such a brat and provocateur, hmm? you didn't know whether to turn around or wait for him to do something, because you have no visibility; unfortunately, no pair of eyes at the back of your head.

he turns you around, though not fully. you gaze at his big, veiny hand that makes contact with your jaw, his finger under your chin, rotating your head, and the second you look up, meeting his face, you know you’re done for.

“do you know how hard you make it to be a good man?”

he steps in, and the space between your bodies disappears. your lips part, but nothing comes out, not a single sound, as he tightened his grip slightly, holding you tightly, staring into your soul with those chocolate, but so dark eyes of his. they were swallowing you whole, drinking you in slowly, and his index finger touched your lower lip, so soft and tender and slightly moistened.

“you walk in here in that little coat,” he whispers, like confessing sins directly onto your being, finally saying his confessions at the altar, “smelling like my son’s cologne, allowing yourself to do whatever you want, smiling like you don’t know what those little stunts did to me all this time…”

you react exactly the way he expects you to, recklessly, by the way you scoff. you actually dare to scoff at him, mouth curling into that smug bratty grin that always spells trouble. “maybe it’s all in your head,” too confident for your own good. “maybe i’m not doing anything to you at all.”

“careful.” the way his voice is barely contained makes your smile go wider. shrugging like you’re invincible but your free trial has already expired. 

“why? you gonna do something about it?”

you shouldn’t have said that. his tongue presses into the inside of his cheek again. simmering expression you’ve seen enough times to know you’re in danger and too turned on to care. it's more fun to watch him struggle than to see him act immediately, and there's no hiding it; you liked seeing him act like that.

“you little brat,” he’s not even angry anymore, just done. “you really don’t know when to stop, do you?”

you open your mouth to bark again, but his fingers tighten around your waist, pulling you flush against him. your words die on your tongue, swallowed by the sudden heat spiralling in your lower stomach.

“yunho…” congratulations on saying his name for the first time without worrying about how it will sound, because it sounds exactly as he imagined it — pathetic and needy. it’s practically an invitation written in blood, sealed with a piece of your soul, smelling of your sweet perfume, and signed only with a print of dark red lipstick.

grabbing your waist with his other hand, fingers digging in, to remind you exactly how much stronger he is. how easily he could lift you, bend you, pin you. despite you being dressed up, not that it will matter what you wear, with the way your knees weaken, clothes are the most irrelevant thing at the moment. and then it hits you, he’s not holding back anymore.

“you shouldn’t have come alone… and if you think i’m letting you walk out untouched after everything you’ve been doing to me. you are so wrong, darling.”

now that he has the chance, he is going to take advantage of being blessed by lady luck with a brat like you. he should teach you some manners, to be careful who you are talking to again. because you keep making the same mistake over and over again: you underestimate him.

he tilts your chin up, and his lips meet yours. it’s the kind of kiss that wipes every thought out of your head except that you need more. it’s not gentle or sweet. it holds the restraint, detonating all at once, so hungry and frustrated. he is such a good kisser, goodness, you gasp in his mouth, and he takes advantage immediately.

tongue pushing deep past your parted lips, swallowing the sound right from your throat. his other hand holds tight to your waist, then slides down, fingers curling around your hip, keeping you pinned in place. you can’t even think of pulling away; he isn’t letting you.

the kiss drags the air from your lungs, because yunho kisses like a man starved, like he’s been holding himself back for months, and the fireworks finally bursts. his tongue sweeps against yours again, forcing you to follow his pace. the dominance is clear as he angles your head just how he wants it.

you melt back against his chest, breath shaking, body softening under the pressure. anxiety fizzles out into something molten and helpless, something that makes your fingers take hold of his shirt just to stay upright. he smiles into the kiss because he feels you are finally giving in. his grip on your hip and chin tightens, as he deepens the kiss even more. lips hot, insistent, consuming you until there’s no space left in your mind for anything but him.

“look at you, desperate for me already,” he growls against your lips, that deep voice sending a full wave of vibrations through your system. “let me ruin you properly…so you stop wondering how i’d feel.”

the kiss doesn’t end so much as it breaks with a thin, trembling line of breath left between your mouths when yunho finally pulls back. just enough that you can see the way his pupils dilate, the way he watches your lips like he’s deciding to bite them now or later.

leaning forward without thinking, chasing him, needing him. he catches your chin with two fingers, stopping you with an infuriating amount of control. “don’t pout,” he says softly, thumb brushing your lower lip. “i’m not going anywhere, just trying not to take you right here.”

your coat slips off your shoulder, and before you can adjust it, his hands are already there, sliding the fabric down your arms. he folds it so neatly and patiently, the exact opposite of how he just kissed you, putting it on the hangers, and then he takes your wrist.

“come here.” 

you don’t walk, you follow like a cat, ready for the treat she doesn’t deserve. he leads you down the hallway. slender fingers warm and firm around yours, his steps slow enough that you can feel the anticipation pool between your legs. every time you glance up at him, he meets your eyes like he knows exactly what you’re imagining, exactly how badly you want it.

you barely register entering his bedroom, you only do realise when the backs of your knees touch the mattress, and you fall into a seated position, breath hitching at the sudden shift. yunho stands in front of you. tall figure, broad shoulders, a silhouette of long legs and a wide chest that makes the room feel smaller, even dangerous in a way you’ve been craving for months. your eyes drift down without permission—

those damned grey pants again.

the ones that leave nothing to the imagination, and you know for a fact that you are already wet and oh so turned on. you stare, you shouldn’t, you know you shouldn’t, but you do. so far, nothing has stopped you from taking the apple from the garden of eden, and now you will finally taste it.

his low chuckle breaks your trance. “eyes up here, sweetheart.” you snap your gaze upward, too fast, he’s already smirking as if he caught you with your hand in the cookie jar. “you really can’t help yourself, can you?” his knees brush the edge of the bed until he’s towering above you, shadowing your whole body. he tilts your chin up again with a single finger, slow and coaxing, expecting you to look at him and only him.

“i’ll give you what you need,” he promises, as his thumb strokes your cheek, and the gentleness only makes the heat worse. “and i’ll take my time doing it.”

your thighs press together instinctively, and yunho knows how wound up you are after everything between you: months of flirting that escalated into this, months of you pushing and pulling, acting like you didn’t know what your touches did to him. he knows your tells by now: the way your breath gets shallow, the way your thighs tense when he gets too close, the way your eyes flicker to his hands, or somewhere else on his body.

he cups your jaw gently, thumb brushing the corner of your mouth. “you’re too tense, sweetheart. breathe for me, yeah?”

you try, but he can see how your body reacts and feel your pulse quickening. his hand slides higher, fingertips pressing just enough to make your lips part. and then he pushes two fingers past your lips. you inhale sharply, as his fingers reach your throat, making you gag and choke, your eyes getting watery, but you still suck and lick because yоu don’t want to disappoint the only man who doesn't treat you like just some girl, someone still immature, or someone just to hook up with. he treats you seriously like a woman. doesn't fool around or gives you time to think, he immediately shows that he wants you, proves it, insists.

“i know you like this… don’t pretend you don’t.” his voice drops down, a little rougher and teasing, “open wide.”

you do, as his fingers rest heavily on your tongue, tasting faintly of the skin just above his wrist. you hollow your cheeks around them instinctively, making him break his composure.

“there you go,” he praises the way you take his fingers so well, and he doesn’t want to even imagine how good you will take his cock in your mouth if the time demands so, but there will be plenty of meetings in the future to test that theory. “just like that, see? nothing to worry about, when you are with me.”

he pulls his fingers from your mouth with a soft, wet drag that sends heat down your spine. those same fingers trail down your throat, over your clavicle, lower, until they find the hem of your tight shirt. he lifts it slowly, giving you time to stop him, knowing you won’t. the man peels the fabric from your body, lingerie underneath again, and then his hands slide down your sides, gripping your hips; and did you mention that you are wearing a skirt? the one he goes crazy about because it's so short, and so easy for him to do anything as he pleases. thumbs brushing the band of your underwear… a demi-cup bra and string bikini, like a full set? you never seem to stop surprising him, even if you try to cover yourself with your arms.

“still tense, huh? let me help, then.” you don’t have time to answer when he bends a little, his hand slips between your legs, still over your laced panties, and he presses two fingers directly against your clit through the fabric. 

“yun–” you jolt, ready to press your legs together by instinct, when a soft sound escapes your lips that makes him smirk.

“i barely touched you…and you are already this wet for me.” his tone is soft, but his eyes are not, especially the way he pushes the lace aside, and you feel even more exposed. his fingers start moving in small circles, slow and steady, and you are trembling from the arousal he brings. already pressing into his touch, trying to muffle your sounds because he’s watching you too closely.

“don't hide from me,” gently leaning in to kiss your inner thigh. “i want to see and hear everything you have been suppressing.”

by the time he pushes your skirt and underwear down, you’re dripping. he slides one finger with no teasing intentions, just giving you what he knows you need. moaning and gripping his shoulders, he adds a second finger, curling them deep, and you physically break from how good it feels. from how gentle yet rough he moves, making you squeeze your eyes shut and bite your lip. your hips rock with his hand, the wet sounds are obscene, and you are already falling apart, and he hasn’t even started yet.

“fuck… yunho its to—”

“relax for me, i’ve got you… such a good girl. bet you dreamed of my hands, imagining my fingers when you tried to satisfy yourself with yours, no?” his thumb finds your clit again, stroking slow, maddening circles, and you’re clenching around his fingers, when a wicked smile appears on his face after seeing how the praise hit you harder than his touch. you’re so lost in it that you don’t notice that you are close, not until he withdraws his fingers entirely, leaving you empty and whining. you blink up at him, dazed, and the look in his eyes is different now. no more soft coaxing or patience, just pure obsession and lust.

he brings his fingers coated in your essence to his mouth and licks them with his tongue, getting a taste of you and, lord, does he wish he could get a proper sample because he has never tasted anything this sweet before. its simply fascinating that the flavor alone is making him hard. then he wipes himself across your inner thigh, spreading your slick deliberately on your flesh. “do you have any idea, how long i’ve waited for this?”

yunho pushes you back before you can even take a breath. your spine sinking into the mattress, as your body still trembles from the way he dragged you right up to the edge and left you hanging there, a denial that feels like punishment and reward all at once. your chest rises and falls too quickly; your hands grip the sheets because you don’t know what else to do with them. you want more, and the pressure of being so close yet so far stings behind your eyes.

he sees that too, and has been careful enough to give you the same push-n-pull treatment you used on him; it's only fair, he thinks. “darling…” voice amused, and almost scolding. he doesn’t move toward you, just watches. so patiently but so cruel, like a predator waiting to see if the prey bolts or freezes. “you’re really about to cry, aren’t you?”

your lip wobbles – you hate that he points it out, and what you hate even more is how much you want him to fix it. he straightens, fingers drifting to the hem of his shirt, pulling it over his head and the muscles in his stomach flex, the v-line, holy shit, his biceps, the veins on them... not to mention he's tall, physically bigger than you. fuck, fuck, fuck you are screwed, you couldn’t possibly make it fit inside you at all, simply horrified at the thought, or because he never once breaks eye contact, not even when his hands move to his waistband.

you’re a mess on the bed, eyes wide, needing something you can’t voice. his fingers tug the band of his grey sweatpants down his hips, and then he stops midway, when you actually giggle. not mocking, but disbelieving, like he is the funniest, most fascinating thing you’ve ever seen. maybe someone will think you're crazy, you prove it yourself because who the hell would allow this? the young chick in the bed of the attractive dilf.

“what’s so funny, sweetheart?” he lifts a brow, head tilting, pushing your legs apart, settling between them. “always teasing, acting like a damn brat.” 

your brain is too busy crashing against the reality of what you’ve done to give him an answer. what you’ve wanted, and been chasing for months with your stupid acts, flirtatious smiles, the accidental brushes of your hand against his arm.

this is the moment you were stupid enough to think about when you touched yourself at night, whispering his name into your pillow like a prayer. a wish to come true, now kneeling between your thighs when adrenaline spikes so hard your fingers tremble against the sheets. that makes you feel alive in a way nothing in your short twenty-something years has ever made you feel.

this shouldn’t be happening. i can’t believe he’s actually looking at me like that, you think. i’m insane for wanting him this much, but… he wants me too.

“yeah, that’s what i thought. dumb little thing… you don’t even understand what you’ve started, do you?”

before you know it, he is naked, stroking himself nice and slow, letting the weight of his leaking cock rest against your soaked entrance. the position you are in, is this missionary? you don’t even know anymore, too hazy to care about that. he supports himself on knees and thrusts into you with the help of his hands. driving you absolutely crazy by giving you just the tip. to warm you up and get you really wet, to prepare you for what’s about to happen, so say goodbye to your lingerie and self-respect because you are never getting it back.

your nails dig into his arms, manicured with his favorite color, and would you look at that? how thoughtful of you to do this after he mentioned it once. snapping his hips forward just enough that the head slips in, stretching you around him. you choke on a moan, eyes half rolling to the back of your head because it fucking hurts, and it’s only the tip. he groans, head dropping to your shoulder, breath hot against your skin, kissing and leaving love bites, worshipping you to the fullest.

and then he pushes in, slow at first, letting you feel him. you’re trembling, clinging, gasping his name, and he’s whispering praise and filth against your throat because you just feel incredible, better than anyone else he has slept with. even his ex-wife, with whom he created a family.

“shi– ahh, you feel so fucking good, tight little thing… knew you’d be perfect for me.” he bottoms out with a low groan, wrapping one hand around your throat, squeezing, just holding and enjoying the control he has on and over you. how long has it been since he had sex? maybe a few months, or maybe since the day he first saw you, and he didn't want to admit it, but he fell in love, became obsessed with his son’s pretty girl friend. “you should see yourself…trying so hard to take it.”

his thumb strokes your jaw, his hips pull back, making you react strangely, unexpectedly, to some extent, with your moans and panting stopping for a millisecond, before he slams into you. the sudden brutality of it makes you cry out, back arching off the sheets, when the pace is unrestrained, months of frustration and want exploding into each thrust. the bed creaks, your breath stutters, and yunho watches your expression change every so often. truly smitten by how expressive someone can get. he doesn’t mind; it just shows him that you are loving it just as much.

“yeah, cry for me, angel…” hungry kisses again, low whispers and his deep voice making you dig your nails even harder into his arm so that it will definitely leave a mark. “you made me wait this long, you can take a little more, can’t you? so fucking good for me… haa~ should’ve had you like this months ago.”

you nod helplessly, babbling his name, clenching around him so hard he almost loses the rhythm. he is not even all in, but shit does it feel good to actually have you in his bed, underneath, looking so pretty and ethereal, like a doll made of glass that only he knows how to take care of.

and despite being drunk-dazed, all you can think about is how — yunho is nothing like minho.

doesn’t kiss lightly, or tease you just for fun. definitely doesn’t make you feel like it’s a game, or that what’s going to happen depends on you. because you can run in circles all you want with him, and you should admit that he has been careful not to cross any boundary or make you uncomfortable, although you were so tired of it. there was no point in lying to yourself; you're just not the right girl for him.

but minho’s dad, on the other hand, moves every inch of your body like it belongs to him, more precisely, the moment he decides it does. every touch, kiss and bite, the murmurs in your ear are loaded with intent and control. a real man who knew where to touch, press and push your buttons until you give out.

your stomach twists at the comparison, considering minho had been fun, teasing, and experimental — and yes, he’d made you feel good. even if not going past the ‘let me eat you out’ or ‘you like my hands?’ prompts that were all the same every time. problem is, he’d never demanded you, or been assertive, take complete control. maybe if he did, you wouldn't be that miserable and out of your mind to want his dad.

“you didn’t let him,” he whispered, kissing your neck and collarbone, one hand undoing your bra, more so tearing it down, cupping your breasts. and don't worry, he'll buy you a new one. actually, he doesn't spend money on anyone, unless it's to help minho with the car or the apartment, but that's it. he thinks you deserve to be spoiled a lot more. “and i know he hasn’t… because if he did, you wouldn’t have been here with me.”

it’s the raw and unfiltered possessiveness that makes you weak, and you did right by not letting minho sleep with you, because now yunho will get all of you. all you can do is gasp at the pleasure he offers you, as he hums, thumb brushing along your jaw, tilting your head to meet his gaze.

your body melts under the combination of his voice, piercing eyes and the knowledge that this isn’t casual for him. and as he lowers his lips to yours again, stealing your breath away… you know you’ve crossed a line with no regrets. you don’t realise you’re trembling until yunho holds your hips still, wrapping your legs around his waist for him to proceed deeper, with the confidence of a man who has done this before.

“breathe. you’re tightening up.”

great heavens, you try, but your breath stutters the second he presses forward, not even all the way, just enough to make your hands claw at his shoulders. it’s too much, more so, he’s too much. your eyes burn, throat catches, heat and pressure flooding through you so sharply it feels like your heart is trying to crawl up your ribs.

“y-yunho—” his name collapses into a choked sob as the stretch hits, overwhelming and unfamiliar, a sensation you’ve never felt with anyone. no matter how nice it is, and to really show him that you enjoy it and want it even when it hurts. he freezes instantly. not pulling away, or pushing in. just stopped moving, holding you right there, his breath unsteady against your cheek.

“baby? hey, you still with me?” thumb brushing the tears you didn’t even realise spilt. “we go slow now, okay? don’t want to hurt you.” you nod, but another sound slips out. a broken and soft moan, embarrassing to the point when it happens:

you start to cry.

it's not something dramatic or loud like a child's whining. it's enough to make his eyes widen because he expected you to cry, it's a normal part of the process; however, not to make you tremble like a kitten that just opened its eyes to see what the world is like. just those quiet, involuntary tears, reacting to something new, and huge, that hurts in a way that’s almost… beautiful. your forehead drops to his shoulder, muffling a whimper against his skin, when your fingers go to his hair and play with it so you can calm down somehow.

“darling, it’s okay… i’m here, okay?” your fingers curl tighter in his hair, already tired when you haven’t even climaxed yet, you don’t know if you can do it, too scared to proceed any further.

“it’s… it’s too—”

“no.” his voice comes low and stern, warm breath brushing your ear, immediately denying what you were going to say, because you're not a woman who gives up so easily, he wouldn't allow it when you're so close to the finish line. “it’s not too much.”

he waits until you take a breath again. once, twice, until the shaky third time. then he nudges you down a little bit more to his length, slowly and carefully, when you let out a silent scream and just hug him for support, bringing him closer.

“easy, baby,” he coaxes, talking to you in that soft-spoken and kind tone, reassuring you that everything is okay. most importantly, that you are okay, and you can do it. “you’re doing so well for me.” every inch he guides you down feels like another truth reveals itself, and that's it: you take it so damn deep, not even realising how perfect you are for him. your tears won’t stop from feeling overwhelmed, stretched, completely claimed by him, and the way your body is learning the shape of him. 

“you’re mine,” voice wrecked, so raspy too, making you rock against him as if wanting to take him by yourself. “you know that now, don’t you?”

your excuse to make a bad decision, bodies getting close under the lights. you’ve got this familiar feeling, like you’ve known him your wholе life. your voice breaks into another plea instead, so needy and desperate, as he clutches your hips.

that’s what he wanted, not to make you be in pain or to struggle, but somehow loosen up. his mouth finds yours, going in for a soft kiss. while you melt against him, helpless, letting him guide you through the overwhelming stretch inch by inch. that little gasp you just let that isn’t anguish anymore but something your body can’t hide, no matter how much you deny it.

he feels the change before you do. his back and arms are probably red from all the digging and scratching, and when your hips push into him, even as tears cling to your lashes. your cries stop sounding scared and start sounding pleasant. pulling back just enough to see your face and how flushed you are with wet cheeks and lips…something in him snaps, whereas he is the one who gets you to see you like this, completely at his mercy, and so so ruined.

“my pretty girl… finally giving in.”

your lips part, a sound cracking out of you, a plea and a moan, and that’s when he moves. slow sweetness turns into a rhythm that steals your breath, and your hands don’t know what to do or where to hold. your sobbed, “please… yunho, i–” turns into something needy, breathy, and immediately addicting.

“oh, you can’t say my name like that,” groaning, head dropping to your shoulder. “darling, you have no idea what that does to me.” his pace picks up, tho not brutally, because he doesn’t want to kill you. it’s gentle, but quick, like he’s been waiting to finally have permission. with one hand, he pins your hands above while the other holds your waist. your voice climbs without you meaning to, every sound spilling out high and helpless, and he bites back a curse.

“baby…” his tone wrecks you. “you’re shaking so much. you want it bad, hmm?” you swallow hard, nodding underneath him because your mouth won’t work properly.

“no.” he lets go of your pinned wrists; his hand coming under your chin, guiding your eyes up to his. heaven is in your stare, not gonna take you there, you should read between the lines, he’s a devil in disguise, he knows how this works. “no nodding… want to hear you say it.”

“y–yes… please…”

“my sweet, needy little doll,” your tears spill again, but now they’re from the pleasure hitting too fast, and deep. you’re overwhelmed but craving, every sound you make begging for more, even when you don’t form the words. he murmurs, kissing the corner of your wet lips. “crying like you’re ruined already… but your body’s begging me for more.”

you want it rough, he can feel it. he thinks you're doing more than well with this new endeavour, taking on something big. you're a good girl, you'll handle it, gasping loudly, as he growls softly in your ear.

“say it.”

“yunho– p-please… don’t stop—”

“yeah, i know what you into… baby, got a type.” he sets a new pace, so harsh that it makes your legs tremble, you’re practically clinging to him for dear life, every breath a moan of his name. a drama awakens as you are drawn to each other, like deja vu, it becomes clear, reality and ideal.

“take it, yeah? take all of it, let me hear you beg for it.” you can’t stop taking him, his head pushing so deep into your velvety walls. it seems to be working its way into all your organs, probably even imprinting itself on your stomach, a belly bludge. fuck, you don’t know anymore, he can do anything to you… all you care about is getting to feel him, no matter how. every sob turns into a plea, every broken moan turns into a scream of his name, that just makes him go rougher, hunger bleeding through each slam.

yunho kisses the tear tracks on your cheek, voice breaking with how badly he wants you. “my sweet angel, you’re so beautiful like this…so messy and loud for me, yeah, ahh— “

your head drops back, a helpless sound ripping out of you, and he swallows it with a kiss that feels like a dream come true. he’s going to ruin you, and you’re going to thank him for it. he whispers against your lips. the pleasure surges, swallowing the last of the pain, and your voice spills out shameless and desperate.

“yunho… aah~ please, m-more.. i-i want yo– ”

his smile is pure sin when he hears you preach like that. you don’t know if he is a fallen angel or the devil himself. he feels it the second your body tightens around him, that involuntary, shaking pull that makes his breath hitch against your throat. his hands clamp harder on your waist like he’s trying to steady himself, but his voice gives him away.

“damn, princess…you’re squeezing me so tight i can barely—” he cuts himself off with a groan that vibrates against your skin. you scream, but he shushes it with a hungry kiss, saliva mixing, wet and sloppy sounds as he pounds into your cunt. you were so wet and aroused that you made everything easier for him.

“doing so good for me… yeah? that’s it, princess, keep going…” trying to answer something like yes, or i can’t, but only his name spills out. you've never fucked like this in your life, or rather, no one has fucked you like this. so much passion, and so many strong emotions, some still hidden, but they will show up in time. it still felt like he was literally touching your soul; you can't anymore, you'd go crazy if you have to do this all day long.

“that’s all you can say now? my name?” he teases you as your fingers tremble against his chest, and you choke out another, “mm, yunho…”

you do not even mean to say his name again, and again. the sound of it knocks something loose in him; the restraint he held onto snaps in the most blissful way. his breath turns harsh, his hold strengthens, and he starts to curse at the sensation.

“fuck, sweetheart… goddamnit, you’re gonna make me lose it for real,” he buries his face in your neck for a second, pulling you closer until it’s hard to breathe. but then he moves again, with hard thrusts that make your eyes roll to the back of your head. your voice jumps, too loud, and slightly higher, and then his face is millimetres from yours, guiding your mouth to his. “shhh, angel… let me hear you, but let me taste you too.”

your moan melts into his mouth, and he swallows it, kissing you harder like he wants to savour how ruined you sound. then he pulls back just enough to see your face, and how the little mascara you had put on stained your cheeks with a light shade of black.

you can barely breathe, let alone speak, but he strokes your cheek with his thumb, tenderly cleaning the faint stains even as his pace pushes you closer to the limit you swore you couldn’t reach again.

“remember a few minutes ago?” he whispers, lips brushing yours again, “when you said you couldn’t take it?” a tiny, helpless whimper comes from you, and he presses a kiss that builds up anticipation rather than stimulation. because look at you, taking all of him, feeling so good, more than amazing, and you are so beautiful, magnificent, with such a pretty face and body. a personality that he can easily read like an open book, doesn't need the resume, he just looks at you and knows what it's going to be about.

another sob of pleasure, as he groans if the sound physically hits him. your thighs tremble, your hands clutch at him helplessly, and he leans in, kissing along your jaw, your cheek, your neck, everywhere your skin burns for him. he knows exactly what he’s doing. needy moans tear out of you, and he kisses your lips again to quiet the sound.

you can’t form words anymore. every attempt just collapses into: yunho or please, in a voice that barely holds together. he loves it so much, the way you just give in, the effect and control he has over you just feeds his ego so cruelly. brushing his nose against your skin, flawless and thin, but your apologies are only selfish with vain intent.

“hold on for me a little longer, yeah? i’m not done with you yet.” he can’t stop kissing you, it's like a drug, so addicting and intoxicating. knowing that he is the one to have you like this, to scream like you saw the phantom of opera, and when you shake your head instantly, or maybe your body just moves on instinct, but it’s enough to make him shudder. he pushes you just a little further on purpose, knowing exactly how far you can go and how much more of his cock you can take. arching into him like you’re breaking and begging at the same time.

“nngh, that’s–that’s it, sweetheart,” praises left and right, because he shouldn’t be mean to you, despite you deserving it. no, no, yunho is not that evil. maybe he wanted to call you a slut, maybe you knew deep down that you were one. even though you didn't go from man to man, but the way you treated him, the provocation you created was enough for that word to be defined by your name. “you’re doing so damn well.”

a kiss to your cheek, another to your jaw. a final one to your lips, that were so red and swollen. you don’t even realise what’s happening until your whole body locks up. not from fear, or pain, but from something so sudden it steals the breath right out of your lungs, crashes into you like a wave you didn’t see coming. acrylic nails dig helplessly into him, a choked sound tearing from your throat as everything inside you tightens too fast for you to react.

“oh— sweetheart…” yunho feels the way you are going to climax soon. “that’s it… come for me, yeah?” your vision blurs. you’re close, so close, and he knows by the way his hand slides to your clit, rubbing circles that match the brutal pace of his hips. your entire body shivers, thighs shaking, stomach cinching tight as if something deep inside you is twisting and pulling you under.

“yun– i’m.. please, i–”

he is guiding you through the storm, “breathe, princess… i’ve got you.”

it happened so suddenly, your juices spilling as he fucks you right into it, but more slowly. you’ve never experienced something like this before…never so real, intense, so impossible to hold onto. those intense feelings of pleasure hitting you so hard that the only thing you can do is say his name like it could stop you from creaming around his cock. 

a deep pressure that makes you whine, you press a shaking hand to your lower belly on instinct, trying to make sense of the sensation, and is that him? is it so deep that you can feel it all the way there, that you can see it all the way there, stretching and pushing... your eyes widened in shock, as yunho catches your wrist gently, his breath hitching when he sees where your hand went. body is still fluttering with aftershocks, muscles tightening and releasing, like your nerves don’t know how to stop. he cups your cheek, forcing your dazed eyes to meet his.

“sweet girl…was that your first real one?”

you can’t even answer, and tell him that yes, this was your first time cumming, not even faking a thing. you simply can’t fake anything when the guy who fucks you just knows how to do it properly. your lips part, but nothing comes out except a shaky, overwhelmed sigh.

“of course it was~ no wonder you’re shaking and being so responsive.” the look that flashes across yunho’s face is something simply catastrophic. pride, and awe, all tangled together. he was speechless, like falling into some kind of ecstasy. while your stomach is tightening at that foreign pressure, and he feels it too. your fingers clutch at him again, helpless, overstimulated and still riding the remnants of something too intense to name.

“princess… if i’d known you’d fall apart for me like that…” he stops himself, breathing raggedly against your skin. he should have pleased you sooner if he knew you were going to react like this. his praise only makes your body flutter harder, and he quietly whimpers, brushing his lips down your throat. you have no idea what you just did to him.

his tone changes when you are still trying your very best to calm down and regain composure to continue, as if something in him snaps into place the moment he feels the way you cling to him, so tight, and needy.

“tell me something, sweetheart.” he slows down just enough that you feel every inch, every deliberate shift of his hips that drags another helpless sound from your throat. “did he ever make you feel like that?”

you don’t answer, not because you’re hiding anything, but because you physically can’t. your vocal cords are nonexistent because the maximum words you can say are about five, and one of them is his name. that beautiful name belongs to the man who ruins you in the most beautiful way possible.

“did he?” yunho hisses, so possessive and demanding, like he wants to hear the truth from you even if he knows better than anyone else that his son couldn’t step up his game and please such a pretty and smart girl, who is a freak in the sheets. you probably will be, even though you're so submissive right now. you’re in a situation where he won't let you take the dominant position until you learn to take him all at once, or until you convince him enough to change his mind. you'd look so good on top of him, and he'd watch you struggle when you line up his tip to your soaked entrance, how those beautiful breasts will bounce once you start to jump like crazy.

he speeds up just enough that you can hear the skin slapping, making you arch your back like the cat you are. “did minho ever have you shaking like this?”

no. minho never touched you like this; couldn't even make you orgasm. you had to pretend the whole time that you liked it, faking everything he made you feel. just so you could keep him close, so you could get your hands on his father.

a grown man who knows exactly what he’s doing and exactly how to take you apart.

satisfied growl vibrates against your neck as he speeds up again, his grip tightens at your waist. you are unbearably sensitive, and he groans when he feels how your body reacts, like you’re trying to pull him closer without even meaning to. too intense to hold back, a second orgasm is building too fast for you to even process it.

“oh? you’re close again?” his cock is practically abusing you, but not in a way that hurts, just making sure you get to feel everything he has to offer. “pretty little thing, can you do it for me? hmm, i know you can.”

and you do. again and again, until he imprints himself in you, so hard and deep that he can simply rearrange your dna. he praises you, every time you coat him with your juices — soft when you’re shaking, rough when you’re clinging to him, filthy when you beg.

by the time the seventh wave of pleasure hits you, you’re barely able to function. your thighs are trembling uncontrollably, vision is hazy, brain system is foggy. he slows down because he feels himself coming soon. tho, he is not stopping, just holding you in place, breathing hard against your throat as he fights for control.

“doll, you tell me…where do you want it?”

your voice is muffled, broken from overstimulation, but your body answers for you. you tighten around him, hard, your whole body squeezing instinctively every time he thrusts in deeper. yunho groans, too honest for him to hide that he just can’t contain what he feels for you.

“inside, huh?” his forehead drops to your shoulder, biting it in the process. he knew you were a freak, but not that much of a freak. “you want me there?”

“yeah… please…” you whimper, clinging to him. you didn't want him to pull out; you didn't want to let him go even for a moment. all your thoughts were filled with only 'yunho, yunho, yunho, yunho'. he took over your every sense, all the thoughts you never thought possible, feelings you never felt. “please…yunho, fill me up.”

you are going to kill him. he tries to breathe, tries to hold on just a second more, but he’s too close, powerless when you want him to finish inside, the way you say his name, because it’s the only thing you remember. slender fingers digging into your hips as he pulls you even closer, deeper, and then he’s gone. coming hard, gasping heavily in your ear as he fills you completely to the brim. the way you squeeze around him like you’re trying to keep him there forever. you make him want things that are against all laws, not to mention morals.

the moment he releases inside you, a strangled sob escapes you before you can stop it, your arms winding around his shoulders as if you’re trying to hold onto him, trembling, desperate, and clinging. your face presses into the crook of his neck, warm and wet against his skin as more tears slip free. yunho is suddenly taken aback, having his ‘breaking the 4th wall moment’. it’s been years since he felt this kind of connection. he seems almost surprised, keeping moving gently, riding out the last waves until he feels you tighten again, pulling him deeper, milking every drop from him without meaning to.

“not knocking you up,” he murmurs, still breathless, still pressed against your skin. “no matter how good you’d look full of me.”

causing that kind of family drama, knocking up someone much younger than him? not happening.

“sweetheart, you’re….you’re still holding onto me.” his voice is hoarse, deep tone, with even deeper feelings gushing in his chest. your thighs quivering around him, overstimulated and helpless. he slides a hand up your spine, soothing you, trying to ground you as he coos against your hair. “okay. okay, baby, let it all out then.”

you try to breathe, but everything inside you is too full — your head, your heart, your cunt. the feeling of being so filled you can’t separate where you end and he begins. the rush of it makes you dizzy, stuck on a feeling, and it's a crime how he is talking to you. and underneath the haze… guilt curls in your stomach as it has just been waiting to strike at the right moment.

yunho is still inside you when he realises something’s wrong.

“i don’t–  i shouldn’t have– yunho?” regardless his name is the first thing you can say. his hand then comes up to cradle the back of your neck, thumb stroking the sensitive skin there as he pulls you back just enough to see your face.

your eyes are wet and glassy. it was as if you had stars in your eyes, but he couldn't tell if they had fallen or if they were about to rise and shine brighter than the sun. he hates the guilt in them.

he’d been smug just moments ago, drunk on the feel of you, on how tight you were, on how you kept pulling him deeper as if your body were made to take him. the heat between you was enough to burn, his ears were red, chest heaving, pupils blown wide. you looked ruined, and he was proud of it, but his smirk faded instantly. he hates that anything about this moment is hurting you.

“baby, no,” he murmurs, kissing a tear before it falls. his whole body softens, feeling you clench, not from lust, but from the aftermath of everything he pushed you through. “don’t do that…hey–”

you try to inhale, but your lungs feel tight, and your heartbeat won’t calm.

“there’s no going back now. what’s done is done.” the way he says it isn’t cruel. it’s almost sympathetic, the tone someone uses when they close a door for you so you don’t have to look at it again. “you’re not a horrible person, not even a bit. you are just confused and exhausted.”

you want to believe him, despite feeling the exact opposite. he kisses you before you can argue. the kind of kiss that is supposed to make you calm down and stop thinking. to stop fighting, and let yourself fall where he’s waiting for you with open arms.

your body still holds him inside, pulsing around him like it doesn’t know how to release him yet. and he doesn’t push, just stays there, his palms splayed over your waist, heat radiating from his skin into your bones.

when he finally pulls out slowly from you, and the loss of him burns. pain curling low as his cock slides free, followed by the warm spill of him dripping down your thighs. the sudden emptiness makes your legs tremble, makes your fingers curl weakly into his shoulders.

yunho watches your face the whole time. not your body, not the mess he made, but you.

“sweets,” his hands run down your shaking thighs, slow and soothing, thumbs tracing the tremor he caused. he’s too gentle, like he knows exactly how to make you feel at peace again. “that’s enough for today. you don’t need to worry about anything except resting now.”

he presses a kiss to your cheek, another to your temple, then a quick peck to your lips. each touch is convincing in a way that frightens you.

“i’m going to take care of you, because you did so well for me.” strong arms sliding beneath you, lifting you like you weigh nothing. your head falls against his shoulder, your body limp from everything he dragged out of you. “come on, sweetheart. let’s get you cleaned up.”

steam still clings to your skin by the time yunho wraps a towel around your shoulders. your legs are jelly, maybe they don’t even exist. wobbling every time you try to put weight on them, and he watches it happen with a smile that could kill anyone within a 10-meter radius. it was smug, but not egotistical. he just can’t believe he gets to touch you at all.

“(name), just lean on me,” he murmurs, steadying your hips when your knees give up again. he helped you into the bath earlier, washing you with hands so gentle you almost cried again. then in the shower, his chest warm against your back, while he made sure every bit of you felt taken care of. not used or for you to feel dirty, but cherished and loved.

then, quietly, without judgment, he handed you a small packet with a pill inside. why he has them is another mystery to be left behind. “just in case, sweetheart. i don’t want you worrying.” because he should have been careful and put a condom, but he won’t tell you that he forgot to buy some, because well, he didn’t expect that today of all days he was going to wreck you.

the tenderness in his eyes when you took it nearly knocked you out all over again. now, in the soft light of his room, he dresses you carefully, just like a doll. one of his old oversized shirts, worn and soft, then a pair of boxers he sheepishly admitted no longer fit him.

when you stand in front of him, swallowed by his clothes, eyes tired and swollen from crying, yunho just stares. like he’s falling in love in real time. he steps closer, hands cupping your cheeks. “you look… beautiful,” it’s not the rough and demanding tone from earlier; it’s something sweet that makes the butterflies in your stomach spread their wings even wider and flutter everywhere, even reaching your heart and mind. “my fuckin’ god, angel… don’t do that to me.”

you don’t know what to say, because it hits you all over again — you just slept with your friend’s father. someone you weren’t supposed to want, and absolutely shouldn’t have touched, or thought about this way.

“yunho… i— i don’t know how to feel.”

he steps behind you before the panic can rise, wrapping his arms around your waist and pulling you against his chest. slowly, he begins to sway you side to side in a gentle, soothing rhythm you didn’t expect from a man who ruined you an hour ago. his chin rests on your head when he opens his mouth.

“baby, you feel overwhelmed. that’s normal…” he murmurs as his hands slide up and down your arms, calming the shake you didn’t realise had returned. “you think you did something unforgivable,” adding a soft kiss to your hair. “but you didn’t.”

you swallow hard, guilt and desire twisting inside you, because you are so torn, can't make an adequate decision, nor are you currently capable of thinking about anything more than the fact that the moment you fell for him, like an angel cast out of heaven, you knew there was no way you could get back up again.

“this is… wrong,” you whisper. “it has to be.”

“maybe it is, but…” his arms tighten slowly, possessively. “…we both know it’s not going to stop.” you panic again, breathing heavy, when his lips brush your shoulder, a soft, devastating kiss.

“and what happened today,” he continues, swaying you gently, still trying his best to convince you that you did nothing wrong. you are a human being, with a mind of its own, with needs that need to be satisfied every once in a while. that you are free to do anything you want, as long as it makes you happy. “that wasn’t just for us to relieve the pent-up tension, but you know that already.”

your throat tightens, since he is right. closing your eyes, leaning back against him despite the guilt curling in your stomach.

“doll,” his hands slide to your hips, holding you delicately. he really wanted you to listen more to his words, because even though they were meant to reassure you, the truth was hidden in them. “…you’re going to be my little secret.”

“this won’t be the last time, will it?” you ask, feeling him kiss your face, entirely too intimate.

“no,” whispering into your skin, the softness of his voice at complete odds with the way he’s cornering your heart, “tho, you have a choice,” he says… and you can feel the lie in the way he holds you. but he’s swaying you gently, hugging you like he’s trying to soothe nerves he’s also responsible for sparking.

it isn’t a choice; you have no say in that. he’s taking advantage of how off-balance and vulnerable you are currently… and you let him, since you haven’t exactly been innocent either. your body melts back into him like you’ve already decided.

warm lips brush the shell of your ear, smiling against your skin, “you can walk away from this, and by doing so you walk away from me.” his hands slide over your stomach, “or… you can stay. let me take care of you, love you the way you deserve to be loved.”

your stop breathing for what seems like a minute, because the way he says it, so gentle, not forceful, almost sad and yet it hits you exactly where he wants it to.

three months ago, before you even realized what you were doing, you’d let minho get closer, let him open up to you, let him trust you, and you’d smiled sweetly every time he invited you over. every time he unknowingly walked you straight into temptation.

if he knew that you liked his father instead… maybe you should finally friendzone him, so whatever you had going on will stop. it’s pointless when it's one-sided, and besides, you don't want to date him, and you don't even want to say it… you don't want to cheat on him with his own father. that's why you never set the green light with him, friends with benefits, was it?, but nothing more.

yunho senses your spiral and cages you tighter against his chest, whispering, as you tilt your head just enough to meet his eyes, “we’ll be careful, we have been so far, no? minho doesn’t have to know anything, my son is not that great at taking hints or reading the room, so don’t worry, alright?”

and that’s how it begins. 

the secret rendezvous — nights in his apartment when minho stays with his mom. afternoons where yunho pretends he’s just “working from home” while you’re spread out on his couch and he devours your pussy with his mouth like it’s his last meal and day on planet earth. cockwarming him on his gaming chair as he edits some photos from work, and sometimes when you decide to be naughty and let your brat energy shine, he simply bends you over his desk to teach you some manners and not to interrupt him when he's working. trips he arranges through connections, quiet little escapes to seaside hotels and mountain cabins. the excuse you feed minho and your friends when you mention you can’t hang out because you are going on a family vacation.

a game of hide-and-seek where the seeker is so heartbreakingly blind.

and you were so good at convincing your family to go there that it wouldn't be so suspicious. just you suggesting a new destination to enjoy the season, or if there is an occasion like your mom’s birthday. she really enjoyed okinawa, and she was infinitely grateful to you for the surprise. plus, they know you have a job that pays well, but what you wouldn't tell them is that another person was giving you money and spoiling you rotten.

or that time when he was balls deep into you, and his ex-wife called him, and he had to pick up because she kept spamming his phone. maybe it was her 5th call, and for that, he apologised to you by telling you to be quiet, putting his hand over your mouth, as he continued to fuck you in slow thrusts. "yeah, minsoo? i'm a little busy right now, talking to a client… you know, booking photoshoots, gotta schedule a date.” then she said something that made his gaze flick toward you. “no,” he replied softly. “no one’s with me.”

he was so mad after the conversation and the fact that she wouldn't stop talking, and he didn't really care about how minho needs a new laundry machine... and he just took it out on you, but you loved it when he was rough.

back in the present, it’s been a few months already and nothing has changed. yunho presses a kiss under your ear, down to your neck. “you staying with me tonight?” his voice is hopeful, and a little too pleased. he knew there was no way you could refuse him, especially the way he made you melt, arms sliding around your waist fully, pulling you against him.

“yeah… i think so.”

even though everything is wrong, like you just committed a sin that cannot be unforgiven. you could be torn between two roads that you just can't decide, which one is leading you to hell or paradise? you still lean into him as you’ve already chosen the path you’re going to walk on.

he is someone you could get addicted to in more ways than one. you didn’t leave him, didn’t run, fight, or try to fix what you’d helped unravel. you just let him hold you tighter until there was no room left to breathe without him.

yunho didn’t apologise, or hesitate to make you his, even if your relationship is considered a riddle with no clear answer, a mystery with no evidence to follow. he just looked at you the same way he did the day it all began. with clear motives that he won’t back down, and chose you with a certainty that felt like fate, destined to be with you, and like a promise that felt like a threat.

in the end, you took it all away from me, you think, as he bites your lower lip. big hands already exploring your body that he knows like his own, making you want more. more than he has already given you. perfect, he is perfect at anything he does, and what he does best is love you, because he can make the impossible possible.

he took everything, and he made sure you didn’t want it back.

thank you so much macie (@strhwa), for taking the time to do a beta read and be an editor. i love you so much, and i hope jongho is going to eat you out tonight ! xoxo

taglist ( open )﹢ @strhwa @lillys-bakery @les4heeseung @yeehaw-odyssey @livonianmaia @estrnrea @chanscappuccino @lateez @cyberpxnks @zerowantstobattle @raicecakes-and-buldak @finewinesixtynine @jensdior  @minkiluva @hwa2tiny @woosansbb @haleria @lol-imtrash2000 @haohaoshoe @iamagnesrrr @phesodain @chuuyaobsessed @niyareloadedd @enhacolor @atetheluck @eviemae5864 @booposaurusrex @belongjoong 

ꕥ

Teaser

Teaser #2

ꕥ

Act One

ꕥ

Act Two

You tiptoed and stretched your arm to grab the book perched on the top shelf. Ugh, no matter how hard you tried, it just wouldn't budge. Out of nowhere, a hand swooped in and snagged the book. You turned to face the last person you wanted to see—your rival, Jeong Yunho.

You really couldn't stand him. The way he always loved to mess with you was so annoying. It felt like he never had to put in any effort to study. You could hit the books for days, and he'd still end up with the same score after just an hour of cramming. Even when you managed to outscore him, you knew he'd come back and ace the next test, leaving you in the dust. Sometimes, it felt like he intentionally flunked just to see you happy, only to surprise you later with a killer score. It was like you were just a plaything to him.

"Need that book too?" you asked, pouting and crossing your arms.

"Not really, but it looks like you do," he said with a smirk as he handed it to you. You could tell he was just looking for a chance to mess with you. Hesitating, you reached for the book, but he suddenly lifted it above his head.

"That's not very fun," he said, placing the book back on the shelf, just out of your reach.

"You…!!"

"What? Can't get it?" He laughed, clearly enjoying your frustration.

You huffed and shot him a glare, knowing he'd never pass up a chance to get under your skin.

"I'll just go find a ladder!"

Yunho couldn't help but chuckle as he watched you march off to find a ladder. You were always easily riled up, and he found it amusing how you seemed to get even more annoyed when he played his little games. He leaned against the bookshelf, his smirk never leaving his face. 

Sure enough, a few moments later, you were back, lugging a tall ladder behind you. Yunho watched you set it up, trying to climb up to reach the book while also not making it too obvious that he wanted to see you struggle a bit longer.

His gaze drifted towards your legs for a brief moment, admiring the small glimpse of skin that was revealed as you climbed. He quickly snapped his gaze back up, though, not wanting to be caught staring. Yunho chuckled silently at the thought of you getting even more irritated if you knew. 

"Be careful, you may fall off, you know?" 

"I'm perfectly capable of climbing a ladder, thank you very much." You rolled your eyes, trying your best to maintain your composure but failing miserably. 

"Really?Because it looks like…" He stepped closer, his face was an inch near your thigh. "You might fall any minute now," he teased, his smirk growing wider as he noticed the small slip in your step. 

"I'm…I am not.." "Is it?" You suddenly felt Yunho's hand on your thigh, and the contact sent a shiver up your spine. You looked down at him, a smirk on his lips. 

"What're you doing?" you asked, your voice a little more shaky than you intended. 

"Just making sure you don't fall." He said in a sly tone, his grip on your thigh tightening ever so slightly. 

His touch caused you tensed up, and you tried your best to stay focused on reaching  the book on the top shelf. Although, you couldn't deny the way his grip on your thigh was making your heart race. 

His hand slowly moved further up your thigh, inching towards your inner thigh. You couldn't help but inhale sharply as he was toying the hem of your panties, gently tugging at  the fabric as if testing its limits. He kept his gaze fixed on your face, watching as the mixture of frustration and desire flickered across your features. 

You gripped the ladder tightly, trying to steady yourself against his touch and control the heat that was building within you. 

"Stop that…"

"Why? You seem to be enjoying it." He laughed a bit, his grip only tightening as he leaned even closer, dropping a soft kiss on your skin. 

"I'm not…enjoying it…" you bit your lips, trying your best to suppress your moan. 

"Your body seems to disagree. I can feel the heat radiating off of you," He moved even closer, his hand slowly sliding higher up to your panties. "Just admit it." Without a warning, he pulled down your panties, a sharp inhale escaped your lips as the cold hit your core. 

Yunho's head finds its way between your thighs, his hot breath sending jolts of pleasure through your body. He looks up at you with a devilish gleam in his eyes, his smirk replaced by a more intense expression. 

"Mmm, you taste even sweeter than I imagined," he murmured. His tongue teased your entrance, licking and exploring every inch of you, never letting up the pressure. A soft, involuntary moan let out from your lips as your grip on the ladder tightened, your knuckles turning white and your toes curled in your shoes. 

"Don't…don't you dare…"

"Or what?" 

"I…ah~" 

Your words were cut off as he swirled his tongue around your most sensitive spot, his movement slow and deliberate. A moan left your mouth, you could feel his movement become more urgent and purposeful. He explored every part of you, flattering his tongue to skim over your core and making sure no juices drip on the floor. 

He continued to tease you and tantalize you with his tongue, but then his fingers suddenly found their way to your entrance, gently sliding in with an ease that took you by surprise. You let out a gasp as he slowly moved his fingers rhythmically and precisely, as he knew exactly what to do to drive you wild. 

"You're so tight, and so wet," he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. "Just wait and see what I have in store for you." His fingers continued their exploration, moving with a tantalizingly slow pace that was both infuriating and absolutely pleasurable. 

You felt your body responding, arching towards him involuntarily, your grip on the bar tightening as you let out a whimper.

His fingers curled inside you, hitting that sweet spot that made you gasp for air, and he chuckled softly against your thigh. He was enjoying the way you were reacting to him, and it only fueled his desire to drive you over the edge. With each push and pull, his fingers continued to work their magic, while his mouth latched onto your most sensitive spot, sucking and teasing with a fervor that left you reeling. 

It was a sensory overload, the combination of his fingers and his tongue licking and swirling, sending you to the brink. You tried to speak, to say anything, but all that came out were incoherent moans and whimpers. The tension was building within you, the pressure mounting until you were at the breaking point. Just as you thought you couldn't take it anymore, he suddenly stopped, causing a frustrated whine to leave your lips.

"Beg." His voice was firm, commanding. He knew he had you right where he wanted you. 

"Please…Please don't stop. I need you. I need more." 

He let out a low chuckle, satisfied with your response. "That's a good girl," He was enjoying every moment of he had you completely in his power. 

"You want more, huh?" 

"Yes…please…more…I need you…" 

"Good girl…" He murmured against your ears. "You know what comes next." 

He withdrew his fingers, leaving you feeling empty and wanting. But then you felt something else taking their place – hot, wet, and oh so good. It took you a moment to realize what it was, his tongue sliding inside you, exploring and teasing. He made a quick tap on your entrance, his tip touching everywhere to send electricity through your whole body. 

"Oh…oh gosh…Yunho…it's too much…" 

"Shut up." He alternated between broad, slow strokes and quick, darting movements, driving you wild with pleasure. You were teetering on the edge, your toes curling in your sneakers as the sounds of your breath, heavy and ragged, echoed through the hallway.

"Fuck…I can't hold it…" Yunho was completely aroused at this point, his own breaths coming in ragged gasps as he continued to focus all his attention on pleasuring you. He was rock hard, his member straining against his pants, the fabric doing little to hide the erection. 

Without breaking contact with you, he suddenly pulled back, his hands going to his pants and quickly undoing the button and pulling down the zipper. He lifted his hips to slide his pants and his underwear down, revealing his big, long cock. 

He grabbed your shoulder to flip you over, now you were sitting with your legs wide open in front of his face. Your clit was swollen and reddened because of his rough move and he clearly enjoyed the sight. 

Yunho captured your lips in a fierce kiss, his tongue delving into your mouth, his grip on your waist tightening. You wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer, wanting more of his touch, more of his taste. He parted from the kiss, kneeling back down to your clit to kiss it. Your back arched from his touch, burying your hands in his hair to push him deeper. He let out a small smirk as he felt the grip on his hair tightened each time his fingers collided with your sweet spot. One of his hands reached down to his hardened cock, circling the tip with pre-cum and starting to rub himself. 

"Hm…hm~" The more friction he applied on his cock, the more moan he spit out. Each vocalization caused vibrations that drove you insane and almost the edge of brink. 

"Yunho…yu…more…I need more." You gasped out. A little more and you could come.

Suddenly, you two heard the sound of footsteps echoing in the distance, growing louder and closer with each passing moment. You froze, pulling Yunho to leave from your clit. "Stop…stop it…" But no matter how harsh you tugged him, he remained unmoved, still eating you out like a last meal and jerking himself off. 

"Yunho…ah~stop…" 

"You're too loud."  He covered your mouth with his hand, muffling your moan as he kept going. His heart raced and jumped like a thump, the sight of being caught causing him anxiety but excited him at the same time. He had to make it quick, not until you both came. 

"Come, now." He abruptly gave you a hard bite on your thigh, that one small pain was enough to send you over the edge. Your body convulsed as you experienced the most intense orgasm you had never felt. "Fuck…" he whispered against your clit as your juices soaked his nose and mouth, making him completely mess but also bringing him to the climax. His face left your core, looking down at his cock while jerking off with a high speed. "Damn it…ahh~" With a long throaty moan, he came on your stomach, soaking your shirt with his hot sperm. 

Yunho quickly straightened himself, pulling up his pants and underwear, while you hurried to fix your clothes and sit up straight, trying to look decent. But your legs gave out, and you lost your balance, tumbling off the ladder. Thankfully, Yunho was there to catch you just as someone entered the hallway.

"Ooh~~ what's going on here?" It was San, Yunho's friend and the librarian, looking both surprised and amused at the sight of you two so close together.

"Nothing! I just… lost my balance, and Yunho caught me," you said, forcing a smile while Yunho nodded awkwardly.

"Seriously?" San raised an eyebrow.

"Uh, yeah… the book was just too high up…" you replied, trying to mask your anxiety.

"Yah…" Yunho added, helping you back onto the ladder. San looked skeptical but eventually nodded and went on his way. "Just be careful next time."

Yunho let out a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair as he shot you a sideways glance. "That was a close call," he said, sounding relieved. "We should probably leave before we end up in another awkward situation." You agreed, still trying to regain your composure.

"But hey… we're not finished yet…" He smirked, wrapping his arms around your waist to steady you as he helped you down from the ladder.

"What…" He leaned in closer, pressing against you, clearly still aroused.

"I think there's an empty locker room next to the library?"

"Huh… wait—" Before you could finish your thought, he scooped you up and carried you to the empty locker room.

—--

San was making his rounds in the library as it was nearing closing time. He paused in the hallway when he spotted you two close together. His expression shifted to concern as he noticed something white on the floor.

"What the heck is that…?"

He approached, kneeling down to get a better look. It appeared sticky, and combined with the expressions on your faces…

"Wait… wait… WAIT!!!" He couldn't believe what he was seeing.  "WHAT THE FUCK YOU JEONG YUNHO!!!"

—--

Yunho let out a sudden sneeze, and you shot him a worried glance. "Are you feeling cold?" "Nah, I'm fine…" You both exchanged smiles, and he leaned in to kiss you, gently pushing his member into you. 

He adjusted the strap of his backpack and stepped through the glass doors of the office, nodding politely to the front desk clerk. His ID card bounced lightly against his chest, swinging from the blue lanyard he’d worn every day since orientation four years ago. It was frayed near the clip, he kept meaning to ask for a new one, but never did.

The office was already half buzzing. Phones ringing, keyboards clacking. Yunho moved through it like a ghost, nodding to people who barely looked up. He liked it that way. Quiet. Predictable as he made it to the break room and poured himself a cup of the bitter office coffee that always tasted faintly of burnt cardboard but apparently that’s how Seonghwa, the one that always makes it, liked it.

“Yunhooooo,” a voice sing songed behind him, “you won’t believe what I heard over the weekend.” Yunho didn’t even have to look to know it was Wooyoung. He turned slightly, coffee in hand, already bracing himself. Wooyoung leaned on the counter like he owned the place, dark hair still slightly damp from the light rain, tie already loose like it offended him on a spiritual level. “Let me guess,” Yunho said softly, blowing on his coffee, “someone hooked up in the archives room again?”

“God, no. That was two weeks ago. Keep up.” Wooyoung grinned. “I’m talking real scandal this time.” Yunho made a noncommittal sound as he sipped at his coffee. “Mm. Can’t wait.”

“You’re terrible at pretending not to care,” Wooyoung teased. “It’s about…. oh!” He cut off, eyes shifting behind Yunho. You walked in and your energy slammed through the room like a thunderclap. The buzz of conversation dipped. Chairs swiveled. But you? You didn’t even look at anyone.

No greeting. No smile. No wave. Not even your usual dramatic sigh and flourish entrance. You looked like hell. And not your usual flirty, lipstick smudged, wild weekend kind of hell. Your eyes were dark circled behind oversized sunglasses, hair up in a messy twist that looked like it had been done in the dark, and your blouse, usually form fitting and tucked just so, was rumpled and hanging half untucked.

You stormed to your desk like it had personally insulted you, tossed your bag down, and sat with a force that made your rolling chair squeak like it was in pain. Wooyoung blinked. “Okay, that’s new.” Yunho hadn’t realized he was gripping his coffee cup so tightly until it creaked in protest, standing frozen for a second too long, coffee cup halfway to his lips, eyes locked on your slouched, stormy figure across the room.

Wooyoung leaned in, whispering, “You think she’s finally gonna murder him?”

Yunho blinked. “What?”

“Her boyfriend,” Wooyoung replied like it was obvious. “The one she never shuts up about but somehow also hates. I bet he…”

“I should go to my desk,” Yunho cut in abruptly, already turning away, ignoring Wooyoung’s knowing snort behind him. Your desks weren’t exactly next to each other… but close enough that Yunho had spent the better part of the past three years pretending not to notice every time you stretched, or sighed, or dangled one heel off your toes and let it swing. Close enough to smell your perfume sometimes, light, clean, and maddening. Close enough to be driven absolutely fucking insane by you.

He sat down slowly, trying not to look in your direction and failing immediately. You were rigid in your chair, fingers hovering over your keyboard like you were considering strangling it. One hand eventually slammed the mouse a little too hard, and you muttered something he couldn’t hear. Yunho’s heart thudded. Not from the noise, but from the fact that you looked… different. Not just rumpled. Not just tired. You looked wrecked.

Your eyes, even behind those massive sunglasses, looked puffy. Like you’d either cried recently, or hadn’t slept. Probably both. You weren’t even wearing lipstick. Yunho had never seen you bare lipped in the entire time you’d worked together. You always had something, berry stained gloss, subtle pink, sometimes that devastating red that made him choke on his coffee. But today? You looked like someone had ripped out your spine and left you standing on pure adrenaline.

He stared at his monitor. The login screen blinked at him. His fingers hovered uselessly over the keyboard as you sniffed. Yunho’s head snapped toward you so fast he felt his neck crack. You weren’t crying. But you were close. Your hands trembled slightly as you reached for your mug. You missed it the first time. Swore under your breath. And that was it.

Yunho stood up. His legs felt awkward, too long, too slow. He crossed the short space between your desks, fingers tightening around his own coffee cup like it could anchor him. “Um…” His voice came out lower than expected. Quiet. Careful. “Do you… need help with anything?” You didn’t look at him. You didn’t even blink. Just sat there for a second, breathing hard through your nose before whispering, “Not unless you can delete an entire person from existence.”

Your voice was quiet. Bitter. Almost dangerous. Yunho swallowed. His brain screamed say nothing, just sit back down, but his mouth, traitor that it was. “W…Well, um… that would involve… murder.” The silence that followed was immediate and suffocating. Yunho’s soul briefly left his body as you slowly turned your head, sunglasses still on, and looked at him like he’d just suggested a human sacrifice in the conference room.

He panicked. “I… I mean…. not that I…” He winced, backpedaling. “Not that I murder. I’ve never…. I’ve never murdered anyone before. Or thought about it. I mean, I have, I guess, but like… not in a real way. Not that I’m… planning anything.” Shut up. Shut up. Oh my God, shut up. His face was on fire. He could feel the tips of his ears glowing red, the heat climbing all the way down his neck. His coffee cup was steaming less than he was.

You took off your sunglasses. Slowly. Like a dramatic movie scene. The kind that would’ve played in slow motion in his head if he wasn’t busy choking on his own breath. Your eyes were definitely puffy. Definitely tired. But there was something else in them too. Amusement. The corner of your mouth lifted just slightly. “Yunho,” you said, soft but clear, “please stop talking.”

His mouth opened. Then closed. Then opened again as you raised an eyebrow like, I mean it, and finally he shut the hell up. He stood there, blinking, nodding dumbly. “Okay.” You let out a short breath. Almost a laugh. And that tiny shift in your expression, just that tiny curl of your lips, made something in Yunho’s chest tighten painfully.

Because he knew you were hurting. Knew you were probably barely holding it together. But you still smiled at him. Even after he basically confessed to being a coffee fueled serial killer. He sat back down, face burning, fingers tapping nonsense on his keyboard just to give them something to do. You didn’t say anything else. But from the corner of his eye, he saw you pull your mug closer and take a small sip with a little smile.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

By the time late morning rolled around, Yunho had managed to get approximately zero work done. His inbox was full. His report was untouched. The blinking cursor on his screen mocked him with every pulse. But he couldn’t focus. Not when you were sitting just a few feet away, completely silent, when you were usually humming under your breath or clicking your pen in that way that always annoyed Wooyoung. You hadn’t spoken since this morning. Not to him. Not to anyone.

That is, until Wooyoung dropped by like a nosy little tornado at exactly 11:07 a.m, a coffee in each hand and a gossip radar so sensitive it might as well have been government funded. Yunho noticed him before he heard him, his lean frame half bouncing as he approached your desk, probably fueled by espresso and drama. “Hey,” Wooyoung whispered as he leaned on your cubicle wall, all fake casual. “You okay?” You didn’t answer right away. Yunho’s fingers stilled on his keyboard as Wooyoung wiggled the fresh cup of coffee at her. “I brought the caramel macchiato with the gross amount of syrup you like.”

“I’m fine.”

Yunho pretended to scroll. His heart pounded harder with every second. Wooyoung didn’t move. He never moved when he knew there was more. “You don’t look fine.” You laughed. Dry. Flat. “I walked in on him, Woo.” Yunho froze. “Wait…. what?” Wooyoung gasped. “Him him? That dipshit you’ve been dating since you had the personality of a soggy Post it?”

“In my apartment.” Your voice was lower now. “On my couch. The one I paid for. With some girl who didn’t even have the decency to stop when I walked in.” Yunho’s jaw clenched so hard it clicked. “Oh my god!” Wooyoung sounded scandalized, like someone had just spit in his coffee. “You didn’t kill him?”

“I punched him,” you said calmly, like you were reporting the weather. “Right in the jaw. Think I sprained my wrist.” Yunho’s eyes widened. A sound nearly escaped him. “But the crying,” you added after a pause, “wasn’t for him. Not really.” Wooyoung’s voice was much more gentle when he spoke now. “Then what?” You sighed again. “Because I’m a fucking idiot. I was already planning to dump him. But I still walked in like an idiot with Thai takeout and a bottle of wine.” Yunho bit the inside of his cheek so hard it hurt as you continued, softer this time. “So yeah. I cried. But not for him. I cried because I should’ve left months ago. And because now my couch smells like her perfume.”

Yunho gripped the edge of his desk as Wooyoung made a noise between a hiss and a groan. “I swear to God, if I ever see him in public….”

“I’ll already have hit him again,” you replied dryly and Wooyoung laughed. And Yunho? Yunho sat perfectly still, staring at the blinking cursor on his screen like it had just told him the meaning of life. Your boyfriend cheated. You were done with him. And Yunho… for the first time in three years… was officially out of excuses to not make a move.

Yunho stood up so suddenly his chair rolled back and bumped the low divider behind him. He mumbled an apology to no one, grabbed his coffee mug, still half full of now lukewarm sludge and made a beeline for the break room. His legs felt too long, too stiff, and he was ninety percent sure his left knee cracked like a tree branch with every step. Why did he need more coffee? He didn’t.

By the time he pushed open the door to the tiny break room, his thoughts were spinning so fast he could barely hear the hum of the fridge or the sputtering of the ancient Keurig. Her boyfriend cheated on her. His chest twisted all over again. She’s single. His stomach flipped. You’re thinking about how to ask her out? His heart stopped.

Yunho stood frozen, hand on the coffee pot, eyes staring at nothing as the full weight of his internal monologue crashed down on him like a rogue fax machine. “Jesus Christ,” he muttered under his breath, “what the hell is wrong with you.” This wasn’t about you. You were upset. Vulnerable. Probably not thinking straight. And here he was, coffee mug in hand, fantasizing about….

“Hi.”

He jumped so hard he nearly dropped the damn mug as you stood in the doorway, one hand on the frame, eyebrows raised. No sunglasses this time. Just your bare, slightly tired eyes, the remnants of rage replaced with something softer. Sadder. Raw. “Oh… uh, hey,” he said quickly, stepping aside like the break room suddenly belonged to you and he was just an awkward ghost haunting it as you walked past him, quiet, grabbing a paper cup and reaching for the kettle. You didn’t speak. Neither did he.

Yunho was internally screaming at himself, Don’t say anything stupid. Don’t say anything flirty. Don’t say anything at all, actually. Go back to your desk, you absolute desperate….

“How’s your code audit going?”

Yunho blinked. Hard. You were facing the kettle, back to him, casual voice like you hadn’t just sent his nervous system into complete shutdown mode. “Oh, um… good,” he said, shifting awkwardly. “I found a bug in the asset routing table, but… it wasn’t bad. Fixed it.”

“Of course you did.” You glanced over your shoulder. “You’re the only one who actually knows what half that code even does.” Yunho swallowed. Your voice wasn’t biting. Wasn’t teasing. It was… warm. And that was so much worse. He turned to face the counter, pretending to clean the lid of the coffee pot with a napkin he absolutely did not need. “Thanks,” he mumbled.

Silence again. The kind that crackled with unspoken things.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

It had been almost an hour since the break room. Yunho was still recovering. You hadn’t said anything groundbreaking, hadn’t dropped any emotional confessions or flirted or even touched him. But you’d stood next to him. Spoken softly. Given him your full attention without a trace of sarcasm. It was enough to make his brain run background processes at 300%.

He’d barely typed a coherent sentence since. His fingers hovered over the keyboard as he tried to focus on a particularly confusing column of spreadsheet data, blinking rapidly and mouthing formulas like a prayer. He was just starting to hit a rhythm when…..

“Yunhooooo!”

Oh no. He didn’t even need to look up to know who it was. Hannah. Her voice was the auditory equivalent of a forced smile and a too sweet perfume cloud. She was new. Sort of. Six months in. Smart, loud, confident and thoroughly uninterested in subtlety as she bounced up to his cubicle, resting her arms on the divider like she owned it, leaning just a little too far forward. “There you are,” she chirped, tilting her head so her ponytail bounced. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

Yunho smiled politely. The smile he reserved for problematic printers and coworkers who didn’t understand boundaries. “Oh. Uh… I’ve been here.”

“Duh.” She giggled. “I just meant, like, I hadn’t seen you. Anyway,” She reached up and touched his shoulder lightly, nails painted a blinding neon pink. “I was thinking about what you said last week, about that Thai place near your building? We should totally go after work sometime.” Yunho blinked as he adjusted his glasses with one finger and cleared his throat. “I… actually think I said I walked past a Thai place near my building. And I wasn’t sure it was still open.” Hannah laughed again, clearly unfazed. “Even better! Mystery dinner.” He internally winced. “I…. I don’t really go out much during the week. Sorry.”

“Then Friday!” she chirped, undeterred. “Or this weekend? I’m free all day Saturday. Unless you have a date or something?” She giggled like she knew the answer already. And that’s when it happened. A voice… your voice, cut through the air like a knife dipped in sarcasm. “Oh, come on, Hannah. If you tried any harder, you’d sprain your uterus.”

Yunho choked. Literally choked on his own breath as Hannah spun toward your desk, which was only a few cubicles away. You hadn’t even gotten up. Just swiveled in your chair, one brow raised, legs crossed, mug in hand like you had nothing but time and spite. Hannah narrowed her eyes. “Excuse me?” You sipped your coffee. “You heard me.”

“I’m just trying to be friendly.”

“Friendly? Girl, you’ve been circling him like a vulture since HR orientation. He’s just too polite to tell you to take the hint.”

Yunho wanted to die. Or disappear. Or crawl under his desk and become one with the ethernet cables. But…. he also couldn’t stop staring. Because your voice wasn’t angry. It was calm. Sharp. Precise. Like a blade that knew exactly where to slice. Hannah scoffed, cheeks pink. “Wow. Jealous much?” You smiled sweetly, dangerously. “Please. If I wanted him, I’d already have him.”

And just like that, she was gone. Not a stomp. Not a huff. Just a sharp turn and a clack, clack, clack of heels as she retreated like a scolded intern. Yunho was frozen in his chair. The air around him buzzed.

If I wanted him, I’d already have him.

Those words echoed in his head like a dropped marble in an empty hallway. You didn’t look at him again. Just turned back to your monitor, fingers moving, business as usual. But Yunho? Yunho was reeling. Because for the first time since he met you… He didn’t know if you were teasing. And that terrified him almost as much as it thrilled him.

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Lunch break.

Yunho lived for it. Not just because he was hungry, which, to be fair, was basically his default state, but because it was the one time in the day he could slip out of the office and disappear for a blissful sixty minutes into the quiet of his favorite little noodle place two blocks down. No coworkers. No break room coffee. No her. Not that he didn’t like being around you.

God, no. He loved being around you. Too much. So much it felt dangerous. So he kept his distance, showed up at holiday parties and said awkward things like “those are festive” to someone’s tinsel earrings, and watched you dance with other people while he stood by the punch bowl trying to remember how to breathe. He clutched his wallet, slipped on his light jacket, and nodded to a few people as he headed for the elevator, earbuds already halfway in. Routine. Simple. Safe.

“Yunho!”

He stopped short. There you were. Right behind him. Holding your phone in one hand, jacket slung over your arm, that unreadable look on your face again. “Are you headed to lunch?” He blinked, slowly lowering his earbuds. “Uh. Yeah.” You stepped closer, adjusting the strap of your purse. “Mind company?”

His brain crashed. Completely. Error 404: Cool Response Not Found. The last time he’d been near you outside of work, you’d dragged him onto the dance floor at the company Christmas party after half a glass of spiked cider and told him he needed to “loosen up before you short circuit.” He’d spilled eggnog on himself ten minutes later and gone home early. He opened his mouth. No words came out. He swallowed as you tilted your head. “You know. If that’s okay. If you don’t want to be alone.”

“No!” he blurted causing your eyebrows to rise slightly. “I mean yes. I mean…. no, I don’t mind. Company. Your company. I mean…” He paused, took a breath, and mentally slapped himself. “You’re welcome to join me.”

You smiled, small, soft, and something else beneath it. Almost… tentative. “Cool,” you said, slipping your phone into your bag. “I could use food. And air. Maybe carbs will finally cure my stupidity.” Yunho opened the door for you, heart thudding like a jackhammer under his dress shirt.

You didn’t know it, but you’d just done something no one else at that office had managed to do in three years. You’d made Jeong Yunho ditch his comfort zone. And now he was going to try really, really hard not to fall in love more with you over a bowl of hot soup.

Yunho walked ahead of you as you reached the lot, clutching his jacket tighter than necessary, keys in hand. The sun was bright, bouncing off the sleek black hood of his car like a spotlight, and his nerves were already performing an off Broadway musical inside his chest. He could feel you behind him. Your footsteps were unhurried, calm, like you weren’t about to casually ruin his emotional stability over lunch noodles.

He clicked the unlock button. The 1967 Chevelle chirped in response, a deep, throaty echo that vibrated in the still midday air.

“I knew this was your car.”

Yunho froze mid step as you came up beside him, grin already curling the corners of your mouth. “I see it in the lot all the time. How could I not know? It’s the only car here that looks like sex on wheels.”

He turned, throat dry. Gulping. “You… knew it was mine?”

“Yup.” You walked around the front of the car slowly, fingers brushing just above the glossy black surface, reverent like you were touching something sacred. “Three years of teasing you in the office and never once getting to ride in the car? Tragic.” His brain short circuited somewhere around ride and teasing. “I didn’t think you… noticed it,” he managed to say, because his brain clearly hated him.

You gave him a look, sharp and amused. “Yunho, I’ve noticed everything about you.” He forgot how to breathe. Then, casually, like you weren’t shattering his entire worldview, “So…. You gonna let me in or am I gonna have to dramatically sprawl across the hood until someone calls security?”

He scrambled to open the passenger door for you, nearly dropping his keys in the process. You slid in with a soft sigh, leaning back into the seat like you belonged there, legs crossed and fingertips resting lightly on your thigh. Yunho stared for half a second too long before remembering he was supposed to drive.

He slipped into the driver’s seat, adjusting his mirror and pretending he wasn’t sweating through his shirt as you glanced over, that same little grin still playing on your lips. “This car is sexy,” you said again, voice lower now, like you knew exactly what you were doing. Yunho gripped the steering wheel, cleared his throat, and tried to convince himself that this was still just lunch. But when he looked over and caught you watching him like that? He knew. It wasn’t just lunch anymore.

The engine purred to life with a low, guttural growl that sent a shiver down Yunho’s spine, and, unbeknownst to him, yours too. He pulled out of the lot smoothly, one hand on the wheel, the other reaching to adjust the rearview mirror, but only so he didn’t have to look directly at you. He was very aware you were in his car. Sitting in his passenger seat. Looking around like you’d just been given a backstage pass to a private fantasy.

Yunho swallowed hard as he propped his left elbow up against the window frame, fingers loosely curled against the roof edge. His right hand stayed on the wheel, resting low at six o’clock, thumb tapping nervously. The pose wasn’t on purpose. It was muscle memory. Just the way he liked to drive. But to you? It was filth. That white button down stretched just enough over his chest as he leaned, sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms, exposing slightly tan skin and subtly flexed veins. His fingers gripped the wheel like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth, jaw ticking ever so slightly when he switched lanes.

And the glasses? Forget it. Game over. You didn’t speak. Not right away. Because damn. You’d always known Yunho was attractive. There was something devastatingly endearing about how awkward he could be, how he blushed every time you leaned too close at the copier or asked him to fix your monitor for the sixth time in a month. But this? This quiet, concentrated version of him? Focused on the road, sunlight hitting the side of his jaw, one hand lazily turning the wheel like he’d done it a thousand times with a girl in the seat next to him? Yeah. You were ruined.

Meanwhile, Yunho’s internal monologue was a disaster, Okay. Breathe. She’s just being nice. She’s sitting here because she wanted lunch. Not because she…. Wait, is she staring? She’s staring. Don’t look. Just… OH GOD DON’T SMILE SHE’S LOOKING. Why is she so quiet? Is that good? Bad? Did I forget deodorant? Did she just lick her lips….

“You always drive like this?” you asked, finally, your voice low and far too casual for the chaos you were causing. Yunho blinked. “L… Like what?” You gestured vaguely. “One arm up. Hand on the wheel. Looking like you’re about to drag race Vin Diesel for pink slips and emotional closure.” He choked. “I… I don’t know. I just…. I guess this is comfortable?”

You turned your head, cheek pressed against the seat. “Mm. Looks good on you.” He nearly swerved into a turn lane. “I mean,” you added, clearly enjoying the effect, “the car’s sexy. But the driver? That’s a whole separate problem.” Yunho gripped the wheel harder. And that vein on his forearm? Popped. Just as his favorite noodle place came into view.

The Chevelle pulled up to the curb with a low rumble that turned a few heads on the sidewalk. Yunho parallel parked with mechanical ease, still one hand on the wheel, one arm braced on the window like muscle memory had possessed him as you watched him kill the engine, then glance at you, clearly trying to keep it casual. “This is it,” he said, nodding toward the unassuming noodle shop tucked between a laundromat and a hardware store. Its windows were fogged slightly, bright with handwritten signs in the glass. You already loved it.

Yunho walked around the car and opened your door before you could reach for the handle. Gentleman. Always. Your stomach did a small, traitorous flip. He held the door of the restaurant open, that familiar little bell jingling as you both stepped inside. It smelled like garlic and soy and something comfortingly spicy. The kind of place that healed your soul and gave you heartburn if you weren’t careful.

Behind the counter stood a compact older man in a black apron, wiping his hands on a towel. His eyes lit up when he saw Yunho. “Ah! Jeong Yunho!” he greeted with a warm, booming voice. “You’re late today.” Yunho smiled sheepishly, bowing slightly. “Got held up at work.” The man waved off the explanation like he’d already forgiven him for a crime. “Same as usual? Spicy broth, no egg, extra beef, extra noodles?”

Yunho nodded. “Yes, please.”Then the owner’s gaze shifted. To you. His brows lifted. “Ohhh,” he said slowly, a grin curling across his face. “You brought a guest.” Yunho looked like someone had thrown a bucket of ice water down his back. “Y… Yeah. This is my… she’s my… uh….. coworker.” The way he said it sounded like a question. Like even he didn’t quite believe it.

You extended a hand, smile polite but amused. “Y/N. I’ve been trying to convince him to share his secret noodle spot for years.”You joked as the owner chuckled, shaking your hand firmly. “Welcome, Y/N. I thought he was saving this place for a girlfriend, the way he guards it.” Yunho made a sound, somewhere between a cough and a tiny death. “I… I don’t…. guard it,” he stammered, eyes darting to you, then back to the counter. “I just…. like it. A lot.”

The owner winked at you like you were in on some joke. “I’ll give you both the good seats. Back corner, nice and quiet.”

“Thank you,” you said, still grinning as Yunho practically fled to the booth, his ears glowing crimson. You slid in across from him, legs brushing under the table just enough to make him twitch as he stared at the menu like it was a legal document. You leaned forward slightly, chin in hand, voice low. “Saving this place for a girlfriend, huh?”

Yunho’s glasses slipped down his nose as he stared down at the menu like it was going to rescue him from the absolute emotional unraveling currently happening under this fluorescent lighting. You were across from him, your smile a little too smug, a little too knowing.

Yunho shoved his glasses up his nose like that would help him hide. “He exaggerates. I mean, I just like this place. It’s quiet. Reliable.” Your voice softened, teasing just enough to toe the line. “So… I’m the first?” He blinked. “The first?” You leaned forward, elbows on the table. “First person you’ve brought here.” Oh. Oh god. “Yes,” he admitted, barely above a whisper. “You are.”

That earned you a small smile. A real one. Not sarcastic. Not mocking. And then your eyes dropped to the table for a moment, lashes low. The shift in your posture was subtle but he caught it. So did the heaviness that suddenly settled between you both. Your voice, when you spoke again, was quieter. Not quite fragile, but real. “Did you hear what happened?”

Yunho’s mouth opened. Then closed. Because yes, he had. Every word. From behind the fake safety of his monitor, eavesdropping like some heartbroken intern on a kdrama. But he couldn’t say that. He played dumb. “What do you mean?” You sighed, gaze drifting to the napkin you were folding between your fingers. “To me. This morning.”

He watched you, carefully. “No.” Lying. He hated it. But he needed you to say it, because this wasn’t about what he’d heard. It was about what you needed to get off your chest. “My boyfriend,ex, I walked in on him cheating.” Your voice was flat. Controlled. The way it gets when someone’s trying not to feel too much at once. “In my apartment,” you continued. “On my couch. With someone I knew.”

Yunho’s jaw clenched. You didn’t look up. “I hit him. Screamed. Threw the takeout I’d bought. Then cried like a complete idiot on the bathroom floor for half an hour.”

“You’re not an idiot,” he said immediately, chest tightening as you gave him a look that was all tired deflection. “Felt like one. I should’ve left him months ago. I knew he was trash. I just…“

Yunho shook his head. “You weren’t wrong, he was just good at being trash.” That made you laugh. A short, breathy sound that was as surprised as it was genuine. Yunho smiled, just a little. “He didn’t cheat because there’s something wrong with you. He cheated because he’s an undeserving asshole with the emotional intelligence of a traffic cone.”

You looked at him. Really looked. There was something vulnerable in your eyes now. Unshielded. “And you,” he continued, swallowing thickly, “you deserved better. You deserve better.” You didn’t speak. Not for a long second. Just tilted your head, curious. “You always say the right thing when it counts, huh?”

He flushed. “I don’t know about that.” Then, softly, like it slipped out before he could stop it, “I just… I’ve been wishing I could bring you here for a long time.” Your eyebrows lifted slightly. “What?” Yunho’s soul left the conversation. “I…. I mean… not in a weird way. Just… I thought you might like it. And you… you do….. and I’m glad. That’s all. That’s…. yeah.”

You sat back slowly. And smiled. But not the teasing kind. Not the sarcastic kind. This smile was smaller. Softer. A little sad around the edges, like you didn’t quite trust it yet but it was real. “Thanks, Yunho.” And he realized in that moment…. he would take you to this noodle shop a thousand times if it meant you’d look at him like that again.

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Yunho was trying to work. Really. His fingers were on the keyboard. The spreadsheet was open. His little office plant was thriving. There was even a half full mug of fresh coffee on his desk. But none of that mattered. Because approximately fifteen feet away, you were currently bent over Wooyoung’s desk, short skirt riding up ever so slightly as you leaned in to look at something on his monitor, laughing at something he said, and Yunho could not. He couldn’t. His brain had entered a code red.

Your thighs. Smooth. Bare. Soft looking in a way that made him want to bite his own tongue just to behave. You shifted slightly, one heel lifting, the skirt pulling just a bit more, taunting him. Daring him to look. He told himself not to. He was a good coworker. A respectful man. You were his friend. His crush. A real person who trusted him. And then Wooyoung, damn him, swiveled in his chair a little too fast and smacked his elbow on the edge of the desk.

You yelped, laughing as he stumbled backward and instinctively reached out, landing squarely against you, palms gripping your waist for balance. You both laughed. A real one. Loud, unfiltered, echoing in the open office space. Yunho’s heart dropped to his knees. And that’s when it happened. You leaned over to help Wooyoung straighten his chair, skirt hiking just enough…. and Yunho caught a flash of black lace and delicate straps peeking beneath the hem.

He didn’t mean to see it. But he saw it. And it burned itself into the back of his skull like a branding iron. A thong. Black. Minimal. God tier. He blinked. Then blinked again. And then shut his laptop completely before he short circuited in public. His pulse was thudding so loud in his ears he couldn’t even hear your laughter anymore. His throat was dry. He shifted in his chair, thighs tense, hands clasped in his lap because he had exactly zero control over what the hell his body was doing.

And his brain? Useless. Absolutely useless. Her boyfriend cheated on her. She’s single. She’s here. She laughed at his joke, but she came to lunch with me. She’s wearing that. And I just saw…. I need to log out of life real quick. He reached for his coffee and completely missed the handle, fingers fumbling so badly he nearly knocked the mug into his keyboard. He ducked his head, face burning, pressing the heels of his palms into his eyes like that might help scrub the image from his brain. It didn’t. It absolutely didn’t.

Yunho didn’t move for ten minutes. Well, physically, he hadn’t. But inside? He was spiraling through seven layers of hell, purgatory, and maybe a fever dream or two. He was staring at his work monitor, open to an email he hadn’t processed at all, pretending to read while absolutely not thinking about the lace he’d seen. Or the way your laugh had wrapped around him like a damn hug. Or the fact that you were still nearby, chatting with Wooyoung like you hadn’t just cracked his soul wide open.

“Yunho.” Your voice, right next to him. He jolted so hard he hit his knee on the underside of his desk. “Ah…. ow… shit…. hi.” You were already smirking. Not sweet. Not innocent. This was the smirk of a woman who knew. “You okay?” you asked, too casually. “Yep,” he said, voice a full octave too high. “Totally. Fine. Good.” You tilted your head. “You look… tense.”

Yunho tried to sit normally. Tried to unclench every part of his body currently doing its best impersonation of a steel beam as you leaned in closer, dropping your voice just enough to make his spine straighten. “Anything distracting you?” He glanced up at you and your eyes sparkled, lips curled in quiet amusement. “I….. I uh…. no. Just a bug in the… spreadsheet,” he muttered, which wasn’t even a thing, and he hated himself immediately for saying it.

You bit back a laugh. “Well,” you said, straightening up and tucking a piece of hair behind your ear, “if you need help debugging anything, just let me know.” Yunho opened his mouth to respond, but nothing came out but air. And then you turned, slowly, walking away with a deliberate sway in your hips that absolutely wasn’t there earlier.

He got up in a rush and hurried to the break room just to be able to think without you near him. He gripped the edge of the counter like it might keep him from floating into space. The coffee machine wheezed to life beside him, clearly tired of his shit. He exhaled slowly, shaking his head, his conscious patronizing him, You saw a flash of black lace and now you’re malfunctioning. You are a professional. You are not a teenage boy at his first fan meeting. Get it together….

“Are you running from me?” Your voice again. Right behind him. He cursed every deity he’d ever heard of. You leaned against the counter beside him, arms crossed, clearly enjoying his descent into madness. Yunho shook his head rapidly. “N… No. I’m not. I just…. needed caffeine. That’s all. For focus. For work.”

Mhm.” You nodded slowly. “Definitely not because you saw my thong, then almost broke your coffee mug.” Yunho’s heart stopped. Fully stopped. He turned to you, eyes wide, throat dry. “I…. I didn’t mean to… It was an accident, I swear, I wasn’t…” You smiled. Soft this time. “Relax, Yunho. I didn’t say I minded.” He made a noise. It wasn’t human. It wasn’t functional. It was just a strangled help from a man on the brink as you stepped closer, close enough to brush his arm, your voice a breath against his ear now.

“You’ve been watching me for three years, Yunho. I figured it was time you got a better view.” And then you walked out. Just like that. Leaving Yunho alone in the break room, clutching his mug like it was a grenade and he wasn’t sure if it had gone off yet.

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By 5:47 p.m., Yunho was convinced the day had lasted at least sixteen years. He hadn’t spoken a single coherent sentence since the break room. Not one. He’d stared at his computer, typed entire paragraphs of complete gibberish, and nodded through two different meetings without hearing a damn thing. All he could hear was your voice. Those words had rewired him. Permanently. He was broken. Glitched. Ruined.

He had no idea what to do with that kind of boldness. That kind of power. And then, like the universe hadn’t done enough already, Seonghwa walked by, clapping his hands like a very attractive office fairy godmother. “Alright, people, drinks tonight at Burnhouse across the street. First round’s on me.” A few people cheered. Others groaned. Most started packing up. Yunho didn’t move. He never went to these things. He wasn’t that guy. He was the “thanks but I have laundry and a moral fear of barstools” guy. He stared at his screen, willing the conversation to pass over him like it always did.

“Yunho.” His name. From you. He turned slowly, heart thudding in his throat. You were standing next to his desk, jacket already on, hair a little messier than this morning in the best possible way as you smiled, not like you had a secret. Just like you were offering one. “You going?” He blinked. “What?”

“The bar.” You nodded toward the window, toward the glowing sign already blinking to life across the street. “You going?” And Yunho, bless his socially awkward, brain fried soul, said the only thing that came to mind. “Should I?” Your smile widened, eyes glinting. “Depends,” you said, tilting your head. “Do you want to see what else I’m wearing under this skirt?”

Yunho’s soul did not leave his body this time. It plummeted. Straight into the molten center of the earth as you leaned closer, voice a whisper just for him. “Come have a drink with me, Yunho.” He nodded before his brain even caught up, watching you turn and walked away, heels clicking toward the elevators. The doors slid shut with a soft ding as you and Wooyoung stepped inside, the office floor fading behind you in a wash of fluorescent lighting and the lingering hum of corporate exhaustion.

You leaned against the mirrored wall with a sigh, arms crossed, eyes soft in a way they hadn’t been all day. The emotional wreckage of the morning still lingered beneath your skin, but something had shifted. Something lighter had taken root and Wooyoung, being Wooyoung, clocked it immediately. He leaned against the opposite side of the elevator, hands in his pockets, watching you like a cat that had just seen the can opener come out. “So,” he started casually, “you and Yunho.”

You didn’t even flinch. Just rolled your eyes with a smirk. “What about me and Yunho?” He grinned. “You tell me.” You turned to face him fully, eyebrow raised. “Are you seriously doing this right now?”

“Hell yeah, I am. You basically eye fucked him all day. I thought the poor guy was gonna pass out when he saw you bend over. And don’t even get me started on that break room stunt.” You smirked. “I was just messing with him.” Wooyoung scoffed. “Oh sure. That’s why you looked like you were two seconds from crawling across his lap and undoing his tie with your teeth.” You shoved him lightly. “Shut up.”

“I will not.” He stepped closer, voice dropping just a bit. Not teasing anymore, real. “But don’t use him, okay?” That hit you square in the chest. Wooyoung’s voice softened, but the edge remained. “Don’t use him to get over your ex. Yunho’s a good guy. A really good guy. That loser has had a crush on you since the first time you started working here.” You laughed despite yourself. “He’s not a loser.”

“Sure,” Wooyoung said dramatically. “Just a humble nerd who once brought his coffee to work in a Spider Man mug and nearly came in his pants when he found out that Lord of the Rings show got renewed.” You groaned. “Oh my God, I remember that. He fist pumped in the hallway.”

“He bowed to the intern who told him, like Gandalf personally called his house.” You bit your lip, trying to hold back a smile and failing. “It’s not a rebound.” Wooyoung tilted his head. “No?” You met his eyes. Earnest. Quiet. “I like him.” That sobered him instantly as you continued, voice softer now. “I was gonna end things with my ex, I swear. I was already planning it. I… I may or may not have been planning on going after Yunho when I did. But then the asshole decided to cheat before I could.”

Wooyoung’s mouth dropped open. “Oh my god,” he gasped. “You’re totally in love with that nerd.” You shoved him harder. “Shut up.”

“You are!” he howled, spinning in a circle like he was about to throw confetti. “You love his glasses. You wanna climb him like a tree. You wanna take his Spidey mug and make it yours!” You turned to the mirror, face flushed, but smiling. “Maybe.” Wooyoung slung an arm around your shoulders as the elevator dinged open. “Let’s get drinks,” he said. “And then let’s go ruin that man’s entire emotional ecosystem.”

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Yunho sat in his car. Still. Motionless. Engine off. Hands resting on the steering wheel like maybe, just maybe, they could steer him through this moment, too. The neon sign of the bar across the street pulsed faintly through the windshield, Burnhouse. Red and low and a little too loud. He could see movement inside. Shapes. People laughing. A spill of warm light every time the door opened.

He was sweating. God, he was sweating. He hadn’t been to a bar since last quarter’s team outing, which he escaped from in exactly forty three minutes by pretending he had to update a server that didn’t actually exist. And yet here he was. Because you asked. Because you smiled at him. Because you looked him in the eye and said, “Come have a drink with me, Yunho,” and he hadn’t been able to think about anything else since.

He exhaled, slow and shaky, then reached down and tugged at the sleeves of his white button down, rolling them up to the elbows with careful, almost surgical precision. His fingers shook a little. Then, after a moment of debate, he reached behind the seat and pulled off his jacket, folding it neatly and leaving it on the passenger seat. He stared at it like it might try to stop him. He loosened his tie next, not enough to remove it, but enough to feel like he could breathe again. You’ve got this, he told himself. It didn’t help.

Another deep breath and Yunho opened the door, stepped out into the night air, and crossed the street like a man walking into a dream he wasn’t sure he deserved. The bar was warm. Louder than he liked. Music pulsed low under the buzz of conversation and clinking glasses. There were booths and stools and lights strung across the ceiling like a half hearted attempt at ambiance. He hovered just inside the doorway. Eyes scanning. Looking for you.

And then, he saw you. Backlit by the soft glow of the bar lights, drink in hand, head tilted back as you laughed at something Wooyoung was saying. You looked radiant. Alive. And then you saw him. And that smile? That smile wasn’t for anyone else. It was for him. And in that moment, Yunho didn’t feel like the awkward office nerd or the guy who brought SpiderMan mugs to meetings. He just felt like the one you were waiting for.

His palms were damp. He wiped them on his slacks as subtly as possible while navigating through the packed bar, eyes locked on you. You were perched on a stool at the far end of the bar, legs crossed just enough to make his brain short circuit again. Your drink sat idle in your hand, condensation sliding down the glass, untouched since you’d caught sight of him.

Wooyoung leaned beside you, elbow on the bar, smirking like he owned the place, but Yunho only registered him in pieces. Background noise. You, though? You were… magnetic. Your eyes followed him as he approached. Curious. Warm. Just the hint of a smirk playing at your lips like you knew exactly what seeing you like this was doing to him. He passed a group of coworkers near the booth and vaguely heard someone say “Whoa, Yunho came out?” but it didn’t land. Not when you were watching him like that.

He reached you after what felt like a century. “Hey,” he said, voice slightly rough. You turned fully toward him, drink still in hand, legs brushing against his lightly as you shifted on the stool. “Hey, stranger,” you said, and Yunho almost combusted on the spot as Wooyoung sipped his beer. “Well, well. Look who grew a spine.” Yunho blinked. “I…. I just came for a drink.”

“You came for her,” Wooyoung corrected, then took another sip. “And I love that for you.” Yunho didn’t deny it as he swallowed hard, shifting on his feet. “Do you… mind if I join?” You patted the empty stool beside you. “It’s yours.” He sat, legs stiff, shoulders tense, until he felt the brush of your knee against his. You didn’t move away. Neither did he. The bartender came over before he could process what that meant. “What can I get you?”

Yunho blinked. “Uh…. beer. Whatever’s… good.” Wooyoung snorted into his glass as you leaned toward him just enough for Yunho to catch your scent, something sweet and warm and too distracting to name. “Is this your first bar beer ever?” He coughed. “I’ve had… beer before.”

“Mmm.” You tilted your head. “Was it in a bottle shaped like Iron Man’s helmet?” Wooyoung choked. Yunho flushed bright red. “Okay… first of all…”

“Don’t worry,” you said softly, leaning in just enough to brush your arm against his. “I like that about you.” He turned to you, stunned. But you were already sipping your drink, eyes still fixed on him, like you’d just dropped a match and were watching him burn. And oh, how he was burning as you looked at him with a glint in your eye that made his heart instantly drop back into fight or flight mode. “Wanna play pool?”

He blinked, nearly missing the way your lips wrapped around the straw of your drink. “P… Pool?” he repeated, like it was a word he’d never heard before in his life. You nodded toward the back corner, where the bar’s single pool table sat glowing beneath a buzzing overhead light. “You know,” you said casually. “Billiards. With the balls. And the stick. That you hold.” Wooyoung cackled into his drink as Yunho rubbed the back of his neck, already sweating. “I’m… not good at pool.”

You leaned in, voice dropping just slightly. “That’s okay. I’m great at it. You can just watch me bend over a lot.” Yunho choked on air as you grinned. “I’ll be back.” And with that, you slid off your stool, drink still in hand, and made your way toward the table, hips swaying like you knew he was watching. Because he was. Oh god, he was. Wooyoung whistled low, swirling the last of his beer. “You should’ve gone with her.”

Yunho exhaled slowly. “I don’t know how to play.” Wooyoung snorted. “You think she cares about pool right now?” Yunho followed you with his gaze and felt his jaw clench. Some guy, tall, a little shorter than Yunho, plaid shirt, probably named Chad, had wandered over and was now leaning casually against the pool table. He said something to you. You smiled politely. He gestured to the cue stick in your hand. Asked if he could join.

You nodded, keeping it light. And Yunho? Yunho clenched his jaw so hard it clicked as Wooyoung leaned back, grinning like the devil himself. “Ah, there it is. The Jealousy Jaw Clench. I knew it would show up eventually.” Yunho forced himself to look away. Sipped his beer. Didn’t taste it. He looked back again a second later. The guy was still there. Still talking. You were laughing at something, though Yunho could tell by the angle of your body, the way you didn’t lean in, that it was the polite kind of laugh. The kind you gave out of obligation.

But that didn’t matter. Not to Yunho. He wasn’t used to this feeling. This hot, tightening pressure in his chest. It wasn’t anger, exactly. It was something lower. Darker. Sharper. Possessive. And it was terrifying. Wooyoung drummed his fingers on the bar. “You gonna sit there and stew in it all night, or are you gonna go remind her who’s had her undivided attention for the last three years?” Yunho didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. Because his grip on the beer bottle was white knuckled now. And something inside him was shifting. Fast.

“Hey!” Wooyoung flagged down the bartender with a practiced flick of his fingers, grinning like a man who knew exactly what he was doing. “Three shots. The fun kind.” Yunho was still glued to the spot, eyes flicking between his bottle and you, still at the pool table, still mid conversation with Plaid Shirt McDesperate as Wooyoung slid the first shot glass toward him. Yunho stared at it. Then took it. Then the next one. Downed both in less than ten seconds.

Wooyoung blinked. “Oh?” Yunho exhaled through his nose like a dragon, jaw flexing, eyes fixed on one thing across the bar. You. Then, without a word, he stood, rolled his shoulders, adjusted his sleeves. And walked. Wooyoung smirked as he raised his own shot in salute. “And there he goes.”

Yunho barely heard the music anymore. Barely noticed the people. All he saw was you, hip against the edge of the pool table, cue stick in hand, lips parted in polite fake, laughter at whatever bullshit the guy beside you was spewing. The guy had leaned in closer now, one hand resting too easily on the rail beside your thigh. Yunho’s blood turned molten. He reached the table in six long strides.

You looked up and he saw it. That flicker of surprise. Of curiosity. Of something else. He didn’t even look at the guy. Not yet. Just at you. “Still want to play?” he asked, voice deeper than he meant it to be, words smoother than they ever had a right to be. The alcohol had torched every nerve in his system and replaced them with intent. You blinked, caught off guard. “What?” Yunho’s gaze didn’t waver. “Pool. You asked me earlier. I’m in.”

Your brows lifted just slightly, a smile tugging at the edge of your mouth like you couldn’t decide if you wanted to tease him or kiss him. “Oh,” you said, setting the cue stick down lightly. “Now you want to play.” He stepped closer. Not invasive, but present. There. Unignorable. Voice much deeper than you ever heard him speak before. “Changed my mind.”

The guy beside you cleared his throat. “Hey man, we’re in the middle of a game.” Yunho turned to him for the first time. Slowly. His face remained calm. Polite, even. But his eyes? His eyes were warning signs wrapped in brown velvet. “She asked me first,” Yunho said simply. “And she didn’t seem like she wanted your company.” The guy blinked. Opened his mouth. Then thought better of it. He walked off without another word as you stared up at Yunho, visibly stunned. Still gripping the cue stick between your fingers like you’d forgotten how to hold it.

Yunho didn’t look away. Didn’t fidget. Didn’t retreat. Just stepped up to the table and picked up the chalk, casually prepping a cue like he’d been born in bars instead of behind a monitor. “Well?” he arched a brow, looking at you over the edge of his glasses. “You playing, or are you scared I’ll win?” You laughed. Low. Warm. Wrecked. “Oh no,” you said, stepping into place beside him. “You’re the one in trouble now.”

Yunho lined up his shot like he hadn’t just burned down the last three years of passive pining with two shots of tequila and a lie. The cue slid through his fingers, smooth and practiced, and the click of the break echoed across the table like a shot fired. Balls scattered across the green velvet like they knew exactly who they were dealing with. Two dropped immediately into corner pockets.

He didn’t say anything. Just stepped back with slow confidence, sipping from the beer Wooyoung just walked over and handed him like this wasn’t the most unhinged, out of character moment of his entire life. You turned, squinting at the table, then at him. “I thought you said you couldn’t play.” He looked at you over the rim of his beer bottle and shrugged. “I lied.”

You laughed, really laughed, and Yunho felt it in his ribs. Like something cracked open and warm inside him. The corner of your mouth pulled up, eyes lit with something dangerous, something delighted, like you were seeing him for the first time in a whole new light, and liking what you found. “That was hot,” you muttered, mostly to yourself, but not low enough for him to miss. His smirk curled before he could stop it.

Wooyoung appeared beside him again, holding your drink out like a bartender slash agent of chaos. “Here you go, pool sharks.” He gave Yunho a smug look, the look of a man who knew he’d just witnessed the full sexual awakening of a previously sheltered office worker, then turned on his heel. “I’m gonna go flirt with San from marketing before someone else notices how flexible he is,” he announced, already disappearing into the crowd like the slutty bar fairy he was born to be.

Yunho watched him go, chuckling softly into his drink before turning back to you. You were chalking your cue now. Watching him with eyes that said a lot, none of which you were quite ready to speak aloud yet. He leaned a little closer, lowering his voice just enough to make you look up. “So…. still think you can beat me?” You stared at him for a second. Then slowly, purposefully, leaned across the table to line up your next shot, skirt sliding higher with every inch.

“No,” you said without looking at him. “I think I want to see what else you’ve been lying about.” Yunho downed the rest of his beer in one long swallow. Because holy shit. Yunho lined up his next shot with the calm ease of a man who had, just barely, gotten control of his body back. You were watching him again, lips around the straw of your drink, gaze entirely not on the game. And he could feel it, like a laser beam grazing every inch of his neck, collar, wrists.

He leaned in, aimed, and sunk another shot with a quiet thunk that made him internally smirk. That’s when you moved. Before he could fully straighten, before he could step back or reset, you slid in front of him. Deliberate. Measured. Deadly. You didn’t speak. Didn’t even look at him. Just moved past him to line up your next shot like it was your turn and this was no big deal and Yunho froze. Because your ass brushed right up against his thighs, lightly, barely, but enough. Enough to send another firework straight to his spine. Enough that he had to grip the edge of the table to stay grounded.

You bent slightly, cue in hand, pretending to focus on your shot as Yunho blinked. Then blinked again. Then stared down at the exact placement of your body against his. Your skirt, short. Your thighs, bare. Your ass, pressing right into the front of his slacks like you were inviting him to lose every ounce of composure he’d worked so hard to fake all night and took your shot. Missed it. Because of course you did. You weren’t aiming for the ball. You were aiming for him. Still bent over, you finally glanced back over your shoulder. “Oh no,” you pouted, voice syrupy sweet. “Guess I need to work on my angle.”

Yunho’s jaw clenched. His hand flexed on the table. He wasn’t smiling anymore. Not out of discomfort, but restraint. Carefully, slowly, he stepped forward until there was zero space between the two of you. His front against your back. His voice low and rough right by your ear. “You keep doing that,” he murmured, “and I’m going to stop holding myself back.” You shivered but didn’t move. Didn’t speak. Just looked back at him again with eyes full of challenge and heat and want. And Yunho smiled. Dark. Controlled. Dangerous. Because finally, he wasn’t the only one losing his mind.

Yunho still hadn’t moved. You were in front of him, pressed to his chest like a challenge in human form, breath warm, skirt tempting fate and your voice, that teasing little lilt of, “Guess I need to work on my angle,” was still echoing in his skull as he leaned in, close enough to feel the edge of your shoulder graze his chest. His hands hovered, wanting to guide you, hold you, pull you closer. He was just about to move, about to murmur something low and stupid and sinful in your ear…

“The fuck, Y/N?”

Yunho didn’t even have time to fully process it before someone shoved him. Hard. He stumbled back two steps, more from shock than force, catching himself on the table edge as you gasped, spinning around, already pulling the cue stick close like a shield. “What the hell…” And there he was. The ex. The cheating asshole. Tan bomber jacket. Smug, flushed face. Storming toward you like he hadn’t gotten caught with someone else on your couch less than 24 hours ago.

Yunho’s heart pounded, first with confusion, then with something a lot more dangerous. No. Not now. Not him. The guy pointed at Yunho without even looking at him. “You’re seriously fucking this idiot now? All because of a little fight? That’s what this is?” You stepped between them before Yunho could say a word. Your voice was steel. Cold. Controlled. “You fucking that girl in my apartment was not a little fight.” Yunho went still. The bar around you got quieter. Not silent, but the kind of quiet where people start pretending not to look even though every eye is absolutely on the drama.

“And besides,” you added, gaze burning, “I’ve been planning on dumping you for weeks. You just did me a favor by making it so much easier.” Yunho’s jaw tightened as your ex sneered, stepping closer. “So what, you ran to this loser the second I was gone?” Yunho moved before he even realized it. Not shoving. Not yelling. Just stepping up, slow and quiet, placing himself back at your side, just behind you. One hand resting lightly on your waist. A statement. A line drawn in the sand. He didn’t speak. Didn’t need to. Because the guy looked at Yunho, saw the calm, the restraint, the way his fingers flexed just slightly against your hip, and he hesitated. “You really left me for him?”

You could hear Yunho breathe behind you, slow, controlled. But his fingers twitched against your hip, and that was the only warning. Because when Yunho stepped forward, his voice was low, not loud, not angry. Just… surgical. “I didn’t take her from you.” That made your ex scoff. “Oh please….” Yunho didn’t flinch. “She was already gone. You just didn’t notice. Probably too busy with the girl you fucked on her couch.”

Your ex’s mouth snapped shut. The bar had gone quiet again. The people closest were definitely listening now as Yunho took another step forward, so calm it made your ex step back. “You think it’s about me? About who she’s with now?” He smiled but it wasn’t nice. It was devastating. “It’s about who she is without you.” You felt something bloom in your chest, hot, sharp, righteous as Yunho’s eyes didn’t leave your ex’s for a second. “And let me guess, you’re mad because she’s finally with someone who sees her. Someone who doesn’t waste her time. Doesn’t treat her like a backup plan or a punching bag for his insecurity.”

“Watch your mouth…” your ex started, voice cracking. But Yunho didn’t stop. Didn’t need to raise his voice. “She’s not yours anymore,” he said, final and clean. “And honestly? You never deserved her in the first place.” You weren’t breathing. Neither was anyone else. Your ex stared at him, jaw working, hands clenched, and then, like the coward he was, he turned and stormed off, shoving past a group of stunned coworkers on his way out the door. The moment stretched. Stillness. Then murmurs. And then Yunho finally turned to you, eyes softening, jaw still tight. “Are you okay?”

You stared at him, heart pounding. Then you laughed, a little breathless, a little stunned. “I will be,” you said, stepping closer, eyes locked on his. “But that might’ve been the hottest thing I’ve ever seen.” His ears turned red. But the way his hand tightened on your waist? That was nothing but control. And for once, you weren’t the one teasing. You were the one undone.

Yunho didn’t remember walking out of the bar. Not really. He remembered your fingers curling around his. The way you tugged at his hand, biting your lip like you were holding in something reckless. The sound of your heels clicking against the sidewalk as you dragged him behind you, weaving through the crowd like a woman on a mission. The night had cooled. Neon buzzed around them. Car horns in the distance. City lights flashing over your bare legs as you led him faster, closer, toward his car.

You didn’t look back until you reached it. And even then, you didn’t let go. “Tell me something, Yunho,” your voice quiet but edged in something sharp. “Why did you never make a move?” He opened his mouth, heart already in his throat but you turned toward him, hand still in his, brows lifted. “And don’t blame my ex.” Yunho stopped. Dead still. Right there in front of the Chevelle, headlights glowing faint from the lamplight. The city moved around you both like a river, but in that moment, Yunho couldn’t hear any of it. Just you. Just this.

He looked down at your fingers still curled in his, then up into your face, curious, beautiful, daring him to stop holding back. He stepped in. Fast. Deliberate, one hand found your waist, the other braced flat beside your head against the car door, his body caging yours in with the ease of someone who’d wanted to do this for years. “I didn’t make a move,” his voice was low, jaw tight, “because I was terrified I’d ruin everything. I wanted you the day you got hired. Day one. Red lipstick. Tight black dress. You asked me where the copier was and then laughed at my answer. And I was done.” His chest rose and fell, the words spilling now, finally unchained. “I memorized your coffee order by accident. I timed my break schedule to match yours. I’ve gone home more nights than I can count thinking about what it would feel like to have you look at me the way you looked at him and now I know…”

He swallowed, eyes burning into yours. “He never deserved you. But I’ve always wanted to try.” Your lips parted. You didn’t speak. Didn’t have to. Because he was already there, kissing you. Hard. Hungry. His body pressed into yours, hands gripping your waist like he’d die if he didn’t hold you close enough. Your fingers tangled in his shirt, pulling him in, chasing his mouth like you’d been waiting just as long. There were people on the sidewalk. Strangers passing by. Bystanders who definitely saw. But Yunho didn’t care. Let them watch. Let the whole city see.

Yunho’s world narrowed to the feel of your lips against his. Warm. Hungry. Unapologetic. His hand was still gripping your waist like a lifeline, the other braced beside your head, pinning you against the car as if letting go would send the whole night shattering around him. When the kiss finally broke, your lips swollen, his breathing uneven, it wasn’t silence that followed. It was you. Breathless. Eyes dark. Voice low. “Take me home.”

Yunho blinked. Once. Twice. Heart pounding. “I….. um… yeah,” he said, throat dry, already fumbling for his keys. “Of course, I can take you…” But you cut him off with another kiss, deeper this time. Dirtier. Your fingers curling into the collar of his shirt as you tilted your head and bit his bottom lip, tugging just enough to make him groan into your mouth, pulling back slowly. Deliberately as his breath caught.

You reached up like it was nothing, cool, calm, utterly evil, and adjusted his glasses where they’d slipped crooked on his nose. “To your place,” you said, smirking, smoothing your thumb over the collar of his shirt. Yunho short circuited. Visibly as he opened his mouth like he was going to say something reasonable but no sound came out. Just a sharp exhale through his nose as his jaw locked and he nodded once, fast.

He moved before he could second guess it, unlocking the passenger door and guiding you in with a hand at your lower back, like some gentleman programmed outlaw. Then he got in, gripping the wheel like a man trying very hard not to drive through red lights just to get you home faster, pulse thudding in his ears, lips tingling.

He tried to stay calm the drive to his apartment but, it proved difficult. Yunho’s hands hadn’t stopped shaking since the stoplight before his building. Not that he’d admit it. You hadn’t touched him since you got in the car, no thigh teasing, no biting, no smirking commands, and somehow, that made it worse. You just sat there, calm and quiet, eyes focused out the window like you hadn’t just kissed him like he was the last man on earth and then demanded he take you home.

To his home. To his apartment. Where there was a laundry basket half sorted and at least one action figure still on top of his bookshelf and where….. He unlocked the door and froze. Shit. He stepped inside and immediately did what any self respecting, emotionally fried man would… Panic clean. He tossed his keys in the bowl, stepped out of his shoes, and tried to casually walk toward the couch like his floor wasn’t a crime scene.

“Sorry,” he muttered, avoiding your eyes as he bent to grab a hoodie off the armrest. “I didn’t think I’d be… uh. Hosting anyone tonight.” You stepped in behind him, quiet. Watching. He heard the click of the door as it shut behind you, turning quickly as he spotted his PS5 controller on the coffee table and grabbed it like it might betray him. Then, with all the grace of a man spiraling into cute boy hell, he kicked a pair of rolled up SpiderMan socks under the couch and pretended it didn’t happen.

You didn’t say anything. Which was worse. He cleared his throat. “Do you want water? Or tea? Or like… I have ginger ale? I know it’s weird but I keep it around just in case I…”

“Yunho.”

Your voice was soft and he turned, looking at you leaning back against the closed door like a damn movie poster. Your heels off, bare legs still barely covered by that skirt, lips curved in a smile that said I see everything… and I still want you anyway. His mouth went dry as you stepped closer, slowly. Measured. Gaze flicking down to the PS5 controller still in his hand. “You game when you’re nervous?” you teased gently. He glanced at it like he’d never seen it before. “I…. I don’t know. I just…. my hands needed something….”

“You’re adorable.”

He nearly dropped it as you stepped close enough to brush your fingers over the controller, then his wrist, then higher up the sleeve of his button down, over the strong line of his forearm, and finally to the back of his neck. Yunho stilled as you leaned in, voice low, eyes searching his. “Still nervous?” He swallowed hard. Then nodded. Just once. Because yeah, he was nervous. But not in the way he’d been before. Not from fear. From need. From knowing exactly what was about to happen and still not believing he was allowed to have it.

You didn’t say anything else. Not right away. You just stood there, one hand curled gently at the back of Yunho’s neck, the other tracing the seam of his rolled sleeve. His pulse thrummed beneath your fingertips like a drum too big for its cage. He looked at you, eyes soft, hopeful, wrecked, and that was it. You leaned in and kissed him again. Gentle. Slow. Like you had all the time in the world. Like you were savoring something you never wanted to end.

Yunho’s breath caught in his throat as your lips moved with his, slow and searching, the pressure just enough to make his chest ache. Your hands moved up, brushing through his hair, fingertips trailing behind his ear as his arms finally came around your waist, pulling you in close. He felt you smile against his mouth. And that smile destroyed him. He kissed you deeper, more sure now, less afraid. His hands splayed against your back, fingertips digging in like he still didn’t believe you were real but needed you closer anyway.

You pulled back just an inch, lips swollen. Eyes warm. And then you shoved him. Gently, but with enough force to send him stumbling backward onto the couch he’d just frantically cleaned, his PS5 controller now launching itself off the cushion and clattering to the floor in protest. Yunho blinked, wide eyed, breathless, and completely stunned as you stood over him. Skirt still too short. Hair slightly mussed. Barefoot. Beautiful. Deadly as you climbed into his lap like you’d done it a thousand times, straddling him, knees sinking into the cushion on either side of his hips.

Yunho stopped breathing as you rested your hands on his chest, fingers curling in the fabric of his white button down. “I don’t care about the socks.” He swallowed hard. “I don’t care about the controller,” you added, smirking as you felt his heart racing under your palms. “Then what do you care about?” he rasped, voice raw as you leaned in, mouth brushing his ear. “You.” Then your lips were on his again, nothing soft this time. It was hungry. Desperate. Relief and want and all the years of pretending you hadn’t noticed the way he looked at you like you were something celestial and untouchable.

His hands flew to your hips, anchoring you down, holding you in place as you rocked slowly against him, mouth open and wet and messy with yours. He moaned into your mouth, soft and needy, as your fingers found his glasses, sliding them off gently and setting them somewhere behind you before you grabbed his face in both hands and kissed him stupid. Three years of want. Of waiting. Of watching. And now? Now he was underneath you. Exactly where he’d always wanted to be. Your mouth was everywhere. Against his, down his jaw, along his neck. Hot and messy and hungry like you’d been starving for this just as long as he had. His hands were roaming, greedy and reverent all at once. Every time you shifted in his lap, it stole the breath from his lungs.

You ground down on him. Hard. Slow. A teasing little roll of your hips that sent a growl deep into his throat, low and guttural and completely not something he knew he was capable of making as he slid his hands up your thighs, fingertips gliding over soft, bare skin. And then he felt it. That black lace. That thong. The one he’d caught a glimpse of at the office and hadn’t stopped thinking about since. It had haunted him. Tortured him. And now it was under his palms, real, tangible, damp. His hips bucked before he could stop himself, and he buried his face in your neck with a curse. “Fuck.”

You giggled like you knew exactly what you were doing. And god, you did. “You wore this to tease me?” he asked, voice muffled against your skin. You didn’t answer. Didn’t need to. You just rocked your hips again, slow and devastating. Yunho growled, actually growled this time, hands flying back to your skirt. He shoved it higher, gathering the fabric in his fists until it was bunched around your waist, exposing everything he wanted. You moaned loudly when the air hit your thighs, but the real sound came after. When he brought his hand down hard against the curve of your ass.

You gasped, your whole body jolting above him. Head falling forward against his as you whined, high and wrecked. Yunho’s eyes nearly rolled back. “You like that?” he asked, panting and you nodded into his shoulder. “Do it again.” He did. Harder. Your breath hitched, and you rolled your hips in reward, your arousal smearing over the bulge in his slacks. He groaned so deep it vibrated in his chest.

Yunho was panting. Visibly. Flushed and wild eyed, lips swollen from kissing, glasses somewhere behind the couch and long forgotten. His white button down was wrinkled and pushed halfway out of his pants from the way your hips had been rolling against him. His thighs were spread wide now, legs braced against the edge of the couch, like he needed the entire foundation of his apartment to keep himself grounded. And still, you pulled away, sliding down his lap slowly, deliberately, your hands trailing down his chest as you went. You settled between his knees with a smirk, eyes never leaving his, and Yunho’s breath caught, hard, when your palms moved to his belt buckle. “Y/N….” he started, voice cracking.

You didn’t stop. Didn’t look like stopping either. With calm fingers, you undid his belt and popped the button of his slacks, slowly pulling down the zipper like you were unwrapping a secret. Like you were savoring a gift you’d waited three goddamn years to open. Yunho leaned back slightly, gripping the armrest behind him, chest heaving as you tugged both pants and underwear down in one steady motion. And then you froze. Your hands stilled. Your mouth parted. Eyes wide. “Holy shit.” Yunho blinked down at you, panic instantly rising. “What? Is it… too much? I… I can stop. We don’t have to…” But you weren’t looking at him anymore. You were looking at it. Thick. Long. Resting heavy against his thigh and already glistening at the tip from the hours of tension he’d been holding in all day. His size matched the rest of him, long limbs, big hands, but seeing it, hard and flushed and real, made your brain stutter.

You knew it was going to be good. But this? This was filthy. You swallowed hard as you leaned in, nose brushing his inner thigh, lips grazing the base of his dick, and Yunho nearly levitated off the couch. “You okay?” you murmured, glancing up through your lashes, a wicked little grin playing at your mouth. Yunho’s head fell back against the cushion, throat bobbing as he nodded once, jaw clenched. “Barely.” You hummed with a smirk on your lips. “Good.” And then your lips wrapped around his tip. Your mouth was hot. Wet. Perfect. Yunho’s thighs trembled under your palms as your lips slid down the length of him, tongue dragging with every inch you took, cheeks hollowing as you sucked gently, eyes fluttering up just in time to see him absolutely wrecked.

His hands weren’t touching you, yet. They were fisted into the cushion at his sides, white knuckled, trying so goddamn hard not to move. His jaw was clenched tight, eyes dark behind the veil of his lashes, a bead of sweat trickling down his neck. He was barely breathing. It was kind of adorable. Until it wasn’t. You pulled off with a loud, wet pop, licking your lips, hand slowly stroking him while you caught your breath. Then you tilted your head and smirked. “You just gonna clench your jaw,” you asked, voice dangerously sweet, “or are you gonna fuck my mouth?”

Yunho’s breath hitched as your fingers squeezed at the base. “I mean,” you added, lazily flicking your tongue over the tip, “it’s been three years, right? You’ve gotta have a little more in you than…” Your sentence cut off the moment his hand buried itself in your hair. He pulled, firm, unforgiving, not enough to hurt but just enough to make you gasp and suddenly, Yunho wasn’t the trembling nerd on the couch anymore. He was standing over you now, legs spread, both hands in your hair as he tilted your head back, eyes dark and blown, mouth parted, chest rising and falling like he’d finally stopped holding himself back.

“You want that?” he asked, voice rough, commanding. You didn’t get a chance to answer. Because Yunho was already pushing you down onto him, slow at first, his grip steady as he fed himself into your mouth again, lips parting around him instinctively. “You really shouldn’t have said that…” he muttered through gritted teeth, watching as your lips stretched around him. You moaned, throat fluttering making him grunt. “Fucking hell.” Then he started thrusting, slow, deliberate movements of his hips, the weight of him pressing deeper each time, your hands flying to his thighs to brace yourself.

Yunho’s voice was a growl now, filthy and low, every word punctuated with a roll of his hips. “This what you wanted?” Thrust. “Get on your knees and act like a brat…” Thrust. “Bet you’ve been dreaming about this, haven’t you?” Thrust.You whined around him, tears prickling your eyes as he picked up speed, dick driving deeper, thick and pulsing, hitting the back of your throat until you choked and he moaned. “God, you look so good like this,” he groaned, hand fisting tighter. “Fucking perfect. Taking me like a good girl.” You were a mess. Saliva dripping down your chin, mascara smudged, eyes glassy, throat full.

You didn’t even get the chance to breathe. One moment, your lips were still slick from having him in your mouth, your cheeks flushed, your thighs squeezed together in desperate tension, and the next? Yunho’s grip tightened, and he yanked you up. “Come here,” he muttered, voice hoarse, guiding you up onto shaky legs before pulling you in for a bruising kiss. His hands were everywhere, ripping your shirt open with a frustrated groan, buttons clattering to the floor as he kissed you breathless. You barely managed a gasp before your bra was gone too, tugged down your arms and tossed somewhere across the living room. “Yunho!”

“Shh.” His lips found your collarbone, then lower. “Let me see you.” He stepped back and looked, really looked, eyes drinking in the sight of you, nearly naked except for that thin strip of black lace still clinging to your hips. His hands slid down your sides. “Fucking beautiful.” You reached for his shirt, tugging it open just enough to loosen the tie at his neck. He left it on. And somehow… that made it worse. Better. Worse for your self control, better for every filthy fantasy you’d ever had involving Yunho and a conference room printer. He kissed your breast, slowly, tongue circling your nipple until it peaked, lips dragging across your skin as he kissed his way down, all the way to your belly, hands roaming your thighs as he dropped lower, and lower until he knelt on his living room rug.

Still in his white shirt and black tie. Head tilted up like a man ready to worship. And then his fingers found the waistband of your thong, hooked into it and pulled. The fabric slid taut against your aching clit and you nearly fell into him from the jolt of it, your knees wobbling, a gasp escaping your lips. “Sensitive?” he asked, voice dark and far too amused as you looked down at him, lips parted, breath short. “Please.” He hummed low in his throat and tugged the thong tighter, watching the way your thighs shook.

“Three years,” he muttered. “Three years thinking about this. Imagining what you’d sound like if I did this,” He tugged again, slow and firm, the lace biting right where you needed him most and your breath hitched. “Yunho…” He leaned in, tongue flicking out to trace the line of your underwear. Then he kissed you through it, mouth hot over the soaked fabric, letting it rub against you as he groaned. “You’re so fucking wet already,” he said, eyes locking with yours, pupils blown. You whimpered and he grinned. And then he bit, a tiny graze of his teeth through the fabric before finally slipping one thick finger beneath the waistband and pulling it aside.

You cried out as Yunho’s fingers slid beneath the thin black thong, curling around the damp lace before he slowly, so fucking slowly, pulled it down your legs. He kept his eyes on you the whole time, watching the way your chest rose and fell, how your thighs twitched when the cool air met soaked skin. When the fabric reached your ankles, he tossed it, lightly, over his shoulder, the thong landing on the arm of the couch behind him like a trophy. Then he leaned in. No teasing. No warning. Just Yunho’s mouth on you, open and hungry. You gasped, fingers flying to his hair as his tongue dragged through your folds, slow at first, savoring, tasting, before he groaned into you, the sound vibrating straight through your core.

His lips sealed around your clit, tongue lapping, then flicking, then sucking until your knees buckled and your hand slapped against the wall behind you for balance. But Yunho wasn’t done. Not even close. He gripped your hip with one hand, tight, fingers digging in to keep you from running and the other? That arm slid up the line of your body, up past your stomach, past your ribs. His long fingers stretched across your chest, brushing the underside of your breast before settling just beneath your throat, two fingers splayed wide, palm flat against your collarbone.

You gripped his wrist like a lifeline as his tongue dipped inside you, slow at first, then deeper, faster, licking into your soaked heat with sinful rhythm, fucking you with his mouth like he’d been born to do it. Your hips rolled against him instinctively, chasing the pressure, the pleasure, the desperation as his mouth and tongue worked in perfect sync, dragging you closer to the edge with every messy, soaking stroke. Yunho…. oh my God!” You could barely speak. Your legs were shaking. Your hands clenched around his wrist like you might fall apart without something to hold onto.

But Yunho didn’t care. He growled into you, his mouth relentless, his tongue pressing inside again and again, his lips slick, chin wet, grip bruising on your hip as he devoured you. He looked up once, just once, and the sight of his lips glistening with you, those dark eyes locked on yours while his fingers flexed just under your throat? It was over. Your body arched, pleasure tearing through you like fire, your thighs clenching around his head as you came, loud, messy, completely undone. Yunho held you there, through every wave, licking you until you couldn’t take it, until your hips jerked and your breath stuttered and you whimpered his name like a prayer.

Only then did he pull back, lips flushed, chin soaked, panting as he rested his forehead against your thigh but Yunho didn’t give you much time to recover. One second, his mouth was still brushing the inside of your thigh, lips trailing back up your skin with slow, reverent kisses that made your pulse race again, and the next? He was standing. Sweeping you off your feet with ease, both arms locked beneath your thighs and back, holding you against his chest, your skin pressed to his white shirt, his undone tie brushing your stomach. You looped your arms around his neck, burying your face there for a second, because how was this man real?

How could someone make you come so hard in one breath and then carry you like the world’s sweetest anime boyfriend in the next? But then you caught sight of it. His room. It was… adorable. The light was soft, warm glow from a vintage desk lamp. The walls were lined with shelves of figures and books. And right there, on his neatly made bed, a plush Avengers throw blanket was draped over the foot like a badge of honor. But it was the corner setup that got you. A full Valorant themed gaming PC, glowing in electric blue and purple. Monitors. Headphones. A mousepad with tiny chibi agents. You couldn’t help it. You giggled.

Yunho froze mid step. Your grin widened as you looked up at him, eyes sparkling. “You have a Valorant shrine in your bedroom.” He gave you a look, cheeks pink. “It’s not a shrine.” You giggled at him. “And an Avengers blanket. You’re such a…” He stopped your teasing, voice low. “A nerd?” he asked, eyebrow raised, backing you into the bed slowly. “You knew I was a nerd.” Your lips brushed his as you smirked, teasing. “And I still let you put your mouth on me, what does that say about me?”

He set you down on the edge of the bed, pushing your hair behind your ear. “That you’re mine now,” he whispered. And your breath caught. And then he kissed you again. Deeper this time. Hungrier. His hands found your waist, thumbs dragging up the curve of your ribs, mouth claiming yours like he was done pretending. There was nothing nervous about him now. Nothing timid. Only a man who had you in his bed, naked and smiling and no intention of letting you leave without knowing exactly what it meant to be wanted.

You sat at the edge of the bed, lips kiss swollen, chest rising and falling with every thrum of anticipation still pulsing through you. Yunho stood in front of you, hair a mess from your fingers, flushed cheeks still kissed with the afterglow of what he’d just done to you. His shirt hung open, wrinkled and loose across his chest, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows from earlier as he reached for the knot at his neck. The black tie. The one that had been dangling down his torso as he licked you into oblivion. His fingers curled around the silk, tugging loose… “Don’t.” His hands froze mid pull as your voice stopped him, breathless, softer than you expected but so sure. You lifted your gaze to his, watching the way his brows lifted just slightly in confusion.

“Leave it on,” you whispered and the air in the room changed. Yunho stared at you. Silent. And then his fingers dropped from the knot. He didn’t speak. He didn’t smirk. He just watched you. Like that tie had just bound him to something invisible, some shared understanding between the two of you that the moment he stepped closer, it would all unravel. And he’d never come back the same. You leaned back on your palms slowly, letting your knees part just slightly, the edge of his blanket brushing your thighs as you smirked, voice low. “Three years,” you murmured. “And you’re really gonna act shy now?”

Yunho blinked once. Just once. Then he reached for his shirt. Shrugged it off. And kept the tie on. It dangled over his bare chest, the only thing still clinging to that office persona of his, but his eyes? His eyes were full of something far darker now. Hunger. Want. Years of pent up tension crashing all at once into heat and control and need.”You better be sure,” he said, stepping closer between your knees. “Because once I get in that bed…” He leaned down, tie brushing against your skin, voice a growl at your lips. “I’m not holding back anymore.”

You reached for his tie, still dangling perfectly against his chest and tugged. Hard. Yunho stumbled forward, caught off guard, and you used that moment of surprise to push. He landed on the mattress with a soft grunt, his eyes going wide just before you climbed over him, straddling his lap with purpose. He looked wrecked already. Shirt gone, tie on, pupils blown so wide there was barely any brown left. His chest was rising fast, breath uneven as he looked up at you like you were his wildest fantasy come to life. You leaned in, mouth brushing his, your hands planting on either side of his head, and whispered like a secret, “I’m on the pill.” You kissed him, soft and slow, teasing. “Which means I want you to fill me full.”

His entire body tensed. A low groan clawed from his throat, his hands flying to your hips, but he didn’t grip yet. Didn’t thrust. Didn’t snap like you knew he wanted to. He just stared up at you, tie still crooked, his voice hoarse with restraint. “Is this just a rebound?” Your gaze softened. Just a bit as you shook your head. “Never.” Then you reached down, guided him to your entrance, and sank down. Yunho’s head hit the pillow with a thud. Your breath caught instantly, lips parting in a silent moan as the stretch burned in the best way. You gripped his chest for balance, feeling your thighs tremble as you lowered yourself inch by inch until he was fully inside, buried to the hilt.

“Fuck,” you gasped, back arching. “Yunho… you’re so big…” He looked destroyed. His hands were white knuckled where they gripped the sheets, jaw clenched so hard you could see the tension twitching in his neck. His tie draped down between your bodies, a sinful little reminder of who he was hours ago, awkward, shy, avoiding eye contact at the copier. Now he was inside you. Filling you so deep it felt like he was touching something no one else ever had. And he hadn’t even moved yet.

You started to move for you both. Slow at first, your body adjusting to the impossible stretch of him, the way he filled you, aching, perfect, deep. Yunho groaned low under you, head falling back against the pillow again as your hips began to roll. Then bounce. Your hand slid up his chest, fingers brushing the base of his throat, teasing. Yunho’s eyes flew open, locking on yours like a challenge. So you tightened your grip. Not hard. Not choking. Just there. Your palm flat against his throat, your body moving steadily on top of him, your thighs beginning to tremble as your rhythm picked up, slick, wet sounds echoing through the room with every bounce of your hips.

“Oh my god,” he gasped, hands gripping your waist, fingers digging in. “Fuck…. look at you.” You were breathless, skin flushed and shimmering with sweat, riding him like you were made for it, like you’d waited years just to do this. His voice dropped, rough and filthy. “Riding me like a good fucking girl. Just like that… so tight, so perfect… fuck, look at that messy little pussy swallowing me.” You moaned, your grip moving, hand sliding from his neck to his tie, grabbing it like reins as you leaned back, changing the angle.

Yunho cursed under his breath, hips thrusting up hard into you, the new position letting him reach deeper. You held the tie tight in one hand, other bracing behind you, your head falling back as your body rocked with every punishing snap of his hips. “Take it,” he growled, eyes locked on where your bodies met. “Let me feel you come on my dick.” You were shaking. The pressure was blinding, coiled, climbing, too much too fast. Your grip on his tie slipped, fingers trembling as your thighs gave out, the rhythm breaking as he held you up with both arms. That’s when it hit. You screamed, body spasming around him as the orgasm tore through you, intense and uncontrollable, your hips jerking as your slick gushed out, soaking him, the sheets, everything.

Yunho lost it. “Fucking hell…” he snarled, hands flying under your thighs, holding you up, still inside you as your body trembled through the aftershocks. “You just squirted all over my dick… fuck….. you have no idea what you do to me.” His face was wild, flushed, pupils blown, hair a mess, jaw slack in awe. And he hadn’t even come yet. Not even close. Your body was still shaking, breath ragged, thighs trembling, but Yunho wasn’t done. Not even close. His arms were already moving, sweeping under your thighs, lifting you effortlessly before flipping your body like you weighed nothing. You let out a breathless laugh, heart thundering as your cheek hit the pillow, hips raised behind you.

Face down. Ass up. The moment your knees settled on the mattress, Yunho was behind you again, kneeling tall. His hand slid along your back, slow, reverent, until he reached his tie, still dangling around his neck. He pulled it loose with one slow tug. And then, he snapped it once in the air, letting it smack lightly across your ass. You yelped, a strangled moan slipping out before you could catch it and he chuckled darkly, leaning over, fist full of your hair, tilting your head back just enough for you to hear him growl at your ear, “Give me your hands.”

Your stomach flipped. Your arms slid back without hesitation, wrists together behind your back, breathing already hitching as Yunho guided the silky tie around your hands, not too tight, not restrictive, but just enough for you to hold, a makeshift grip. He slipped it once around, letting you clutch the ends in your fists, but he kept hold of a small loop, his loop. A rein. And then he leaned back. And thrusted into you making you cry out, face buried in the sheets, fingers curling tight around the tie as his hips slammed forward again, hard, deep, relentless. “Fuck…” he groaned, the sound rough and ruined. “You feel so fucking good like this… look at you… look at what you’re letting me do to you.”

You arched for him instinctively, ass pushing back, trying to take every inch of him. He growled again, his fingers gripping the little loop of the tie like a handle, tugging just slightly as he snapped his hips forward. “Is this what you wanted?” he panted. “To be bent over like this? Hands behind your back, soaked and shaking for me?” You nodded into the sheets, too breathless to speak. He spanked you once with the flat of his hand, groaning at the jiggle of your ass before thrusting even deeper. His pace quickened, wet, filthy slaps filling the room, your cries rising with every stroke. “Say it,” he demanded, another thrust rocking your body. “Say you wanted this.”

“I wanted it…” you gasped, “I wanted you… Yunho, please!” His hand slipped under your tied arms, wrapping around your waist, keeping you flush against him as he started pounding up into you like a man possessed and then the pace shifted. He slowed, just slightly, his thrusts no longer brutal, but deep, deliberate, every inch dragging along your walls, making your whole body quiver. Then he stopped. You whined at the loss, but he was already moving again, leaning down over you, his mouth trailing kisses along your back, soft and reverent. “Yunho,” you breathed, body melting beneath him.

But then he shifted. The thick head of his dick slid upward, not inside you, but against you. Specifically, right against the tight, sensitive rim of your ass. You moaned. Loudly and Yunho froze. You felt it, his dick twitching, his whole body going still, like his brain just short circuited. And then you did the most dangerous thing you possibly could. You pushed back against him. Just slightly. Just enough. “Fuck,” he choked, eyes wide. “You… you can’t just….” You turned your head, meeting his stunned gaze over your shoulder. “Can’t what?” you asked, voice full of sin. “Moan when you press your dick against my ass? Push back a little when it feels so fucking good?”

He made a broken sound in his throat. Then he flipped you. One second you were face down, and the next you were on your back, legs spread, thighs trembling, breath catching as he knelt between them, one hand wrapped around his dick, the other pressed to your stomach like he was trying to hold himself together. He looked wrecked. Hair wild. Lips swollen. Tie still dangling from your wrists as he leaned down to kiss you, slow, messy, possessive. And when he pulled back, you were gasping, dazed beneath him, your eyes flicking down to where his dick was resting between your folds.

He pressed in. Just the tip. Then slipped back out. Pressed again, this time a little lower. The head of his dick nudged at your soaked pussy… then slid up to press against your other hole again. You shivered and he grinned. “Look at you,” he rasped, stroking himself slowly as he rocked his hips, back and forth, tip teasing your clit, then dragging lower, switching between both entrances until your breath hitched and your hips rolled helplessly. “You want both, don’t you?” You moaned again, back arching, wrists tugging at the tie behind you as you nodded, lips parted in open desperation. “Yunho…. please…”

He leaned down, his voice like velvet and sin. “Tell me.” You whimpered, body aching. “I want both.” His dick twitched in his hand as you whispered again, louder, filthier. “I want your dick in my pussy and my ass. I want to feel you stretch me out and fill me.” Yunho’s jaw clenched so tight it clicked. And then he was leaning back again, his hands firm on your thighs, spreading you wider, watching your body tremble beneath him, hands curling tighter around your thighs as he dragged you closer on the bed, the sheets twisting beneath you like the tension in your core.

You could barely breathe, heart hammering, legs trembling as he angled himself forward, one hand guiding the thick head of his dick down between your legs. His tip pressed into your already soaked entrance, one slow, filthy thrust, deep into your pussy. You both gasped. Your walls fluttered around him, slick and hot and dripping, and Yunho groaned deep in his chest as he pulled back just slightly, watching his dick glisten with your arousal. He stared for a second, like he was hypnotized. Then he swallowed hard, voice low and wrecked. “Perfect.”

You whimpered, hips rolling without permission as he leaned forward again, his dick slipping free from your pussy with a wet sound, coated in you, glistening from tip to base. He reached down, guiding himself lower. To your other entrance. Your breath caught as his tip kissed your rim, warm, teasing pressure that made your whole body tense. “Relax,” he murmured, kissing your thigh. “I’ve got you.” You did. You trusted him. And then… you moaned. A long, filthy, needy sound, because he didn’t push in all at once. Oh no. Yunho took his time.

He slowly rocked forward, just barely nudging the tip in. You gasped, fingers curling tight in the sheets, body quivering as the stretch began. “F… Fuck” he hissed, his jaw locked, his entire body trembling as he slid in, inch by glorious inch. “You’re so fucking tight… shit” Your thighs shook as he paused halfway, one hand stroking down your belly, thumb brushing just above your clit. “You okay?” he asked, voice strained as you nodded, eyes fluttering shut. “More. Please. More.” And Yunho, sweet, nerdy, secret-possessive Yunho, gave you exactly what you begged for.

He pushed deeper, slower, hands splayed against your hips to steady you both as he finally sank all the way inside. You were full. So full. And Yunho looked like he was holding on by the thinnest thread of control. “Fuck, baby,” he growled, voice breaking. He wasn’t moving yet. Just sitting deep, buried inside you, letting you feel the stretch, the burn, the glorious pressure of having him in your ass after being soaked and wrecked already. You whimpered, eyes fluttering as he started moving. Slow at first. Deep. His dick pulled back just a little, and then he drove into your ass again, hips rolling, pace building, thrusts getting faster and more demanding with each stroke.

Your mouth dropped open. A sound you couldn’t even name spilled out, half moan, half shattered whimper. “Fuck,” Yunho growled, voice rough and low. “You take me so well. Every fucking inch.” His hands gripped your thighs, tight, firm, grounding, and he began to really move, hips snapping forward, burying himself again and again as the wet sounds of your bodies echoed in the room like a dirty drumbeat. You could feel yourself tightening again, already, your body completely overwhelmed by the stretch, the fullness, the filthy perfection of him inside you. And then he pulled out.

You barely had time to register the loss before he shifted, gripped himself, dragged his dick down, and thrust into your pussy in one deep, wet, aching plunge. Your head snapped back. “Yunho!” But he wasn’t stopping. No. He was switching. Pulling out of your pussy, sliding back into your ass. Then out again, dripping with you, back into your pussy with a deep, brutal thrust that made your back arch and your legs tremble. Back and forth. Wet and filthy and perfect. You were unraveling. Completely. No coherent thought, just pleasure. Just sensation. Just Yunho, destroying every nerve ending and building something new from the wreckage.

And then you snapped. “Yunho!” you cried, eyes rolling back as your body tightened, your thighs shaking around his waist, that heat exploding deep inside you as you came hard. Your pussy clenched around him, fluttering wildly, your whole body jerking, a rush of wetness coating him as you creamed his dick. Yunho groaned, his head dropping to your shoulder, hands gripping you tighter as he held himself back, riding out your orgasm with tight, shallow thrusts that made your body jerk with every aftershock. “God,” he rasped, “you’re perfect…. fuck, baby, you feel so good… don’t stop, don’t stop, just let me…. fuck.”

He didn’t pull out. He didn’t even think about it. Instead, Yunho dragged you up into his lap, dick still buried deep in your ass, then, back into your pussy wrecked body, and kissed you like he’d been starving for it since the day you first said hi in the office hallway. Your arms wrapped around his shoulders, your fingers in his hair, both of you breathless and soaked in sweat, your thighs shaking around his hips. He pulled back just enough to rest his forehead against yours, lips brushing yours with every word he spoke next. “You’re mine.”

It was a low, almost guttural claim, not a question. Your breath hitched. “Say it,” he whispered, voice rough, raw, desperate. “Say it back. Say you’re mine.” You gasped as he thrusted up into you once, not hesitating even a second. “Yours! I’m yours, Yunho.” His hands gripped your hips, and he started thrusting up into you again, harder now, deeper, not stopping, his mouth moving across your jaw, kissing, biting, owning every inch of skin he could reach. You moaned, loud, as he bounced you on his lap, every thrust hitting new angles, deeper than before, your nails dragging down his back, his dick pushing you toward another high.

The man he moved, laying you back down, not pulling out, just kept going as he moved your legs, hooked them over his shoulders, pushing them up, folding you in half beneath him, his pace relentless now, dick slamming into you over and over, your slick thighs shaking against his chest. He gripped your wrists, pulled your arms up above your head, held you there, completely spread and helpless, unable to do anything but take every punishing thrust and moan his name like a prayer. “You’re so fucking perfect,” he growled, voice cracking. “So good for me… so fucking tight… fuck, baby…” And then you shattered. Again.

Your body jerked beneath him, eyes rolling back as you screamed his name, your pussy clenching down around him, a mess of slick and cream and overstimulation. He lost it. “Fuck… I’m gonna…. shit… yes!” He didn’t pull out. He couldn’t. Yunho grunted deep as his thrusts turned frantic, just a few more and then he came, hard, hips pressed deep as he spilled everything inside you, his whole body trembling with the force of it, gasping against your mouth. His dick pulsed inside you, your body still fluttering around him, and all he could do was moan, wrecked, as you milked every last drop from him. “You’re mine,” he whispered again, softer this time, against your lips. And you kissed him back like you were never letting him go.

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Monday morning in the office was always a little sluggish, half the team clinging to caffeine, half pretending their weekends were productive. But this Monday? This Monday had a vibe. People noticed it the second you walked in. A little extra swing in your step. That subtle but smug expression on your face like someone had properly rearranged your insides and your priorities. And then, there was Yunho. He walked in ten minutes later, glasses fogged from the outside heat, hair mussed like he hadn’t really tamed it this morning, his tie slightly looser than usual.

But it wasn’t the subtle changes that gave him away. No. It was how he looked at you. Quick flickers of his gaze from across the office. A slight twitch at the corner of his mouth every time you bit your lip. His entire body stiffening every time you adjusted your blouse collar, and exposed the very noticeable hickey blooming at the base of your throat. And Wooyoung? He was having the time of his life. He walked by Yunho’s desk at least three times before finally dropping into the seat next to him, balancing his coffee on one knee as he grinned.

“So… anything eventful happen this weekend?” he asked, far too casually. Yunho’s pen stopped mid note. “I reorganized my bookshelves.” Wooyoung sipped his latte. “Oh, is that what we’re calling it now? She help you alphabetize them?” Yunho didn’t even turn to look at him. “Drop it.”

“Mmhmm,” Wooyoung hummed. “I’ll drop it right after I ask what position you were in when you gave her that hickey because from here, bro, it looks like…”

“Wooyoung.”

“Okay, okay,” he laughed, hands up in surrender. “I’ll behave.” Enter Hannah. Wearing a skirt just short enough to be HR questionable, as she waltzed up to Yunho’s desk like she hadn’t been told “not interested” seven separate times. “Yunho,” she said sweetly, her acrylics tapping on the edge of his desk. “You going to Seonghwa’s birthday dinner next week?” He looked up, blinked once. “Maybe.” And his answer made her smile too wide. “You should sit next to me. I’ll save you a seat.”

You, watching from your desk with the air of a woman who had been thoroughly claimed in about five different positions over the weekend, narrowed your eyes. You leaned back in your chair, tilted your head to one side, and smirked. Hannah saw it. Her eyes dropped to the hickey. Then to Yunho. Then back to you. And her jaw tightened. You raised your coffee cup in her direction and gave her the softest, pettiest wink in corporate history. She stormed off two seconds later. Yunho let out a slow breath like he’d just been caught in the middle of a Cold War standoff as he turned just slightly to glance at you. And you? You mouthed, “Mine.”

He immediately turned back to his screen and missed four words of the email he was writing.

Because finally after three years, he was yours.

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