lily ⋆🐾°

Yunho wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. His skin is warm, a sheen of sweat catching the late sun rays. His eyes a hazy and lidded as he nosed your jaw. "Please... Need to knot you, pretty 'mega." He kisses down your neck, nipping at your collarbone. His cock is throbbing painfully in your twitching cunt, glistening with your shared arousal.

He rocked his hips carefully, letting out a soft whine when you chide him for moving. "Wanna keep you warm and full, plug you up with my knot." Drool slips down his chin as he envisions how beautifully you'd take his knot. Your scent clung to him like a chain, dragging him further under your clutch, toeing the line between heaven and hell.

Your pussy is gushing around him, undeniably turned on at how easily he's begging for you. Yunho's soft nibbling turns into needy bites, his teeth leaving faint marks on your skin as he gives up on listening to you. His hips smack ruthlessly into yours, leaking tip pressing deep into your wet cunt.

Words are lost on you as Yunho simply takes. All you can do for now is cling to him, a hand in his hair, the other scratching at his back. Your back is pressed into a deep arch, your hips tilting enough to let Yunho drive even deeper. You can feel him everywhere. You can barely see straight, tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Yunho growls pathetically, burying his face in your chest as he comes undone. But his thrusts don't spot. He continues to bully his cock into your sore pussy with no remorse. Even when you try tugging at his arms, his grip only tightens, and he whines about filling you up again, promising to knot you and keep you warm.

Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?

Yunho wraps his arms around your waist, pulling your chest flush with his. His skin is warm, a sheen of sweat catching the late sun rays. His eyes a hazy and lidded as he nosed your jaw. "Please... Need to knot you, pretty 'mega." He kisses down your neck, nipping at your collarbone. His cock is throbbing painfully in your twitching cunt, glistening with your shared arousal.

He rocked his hips carefully, letting out a soft whine when you chide him for moving. "Wanna keep you warm and full, plug you up with my knot." Drool slips down his chin as he envisions how beautifully you'd take his knot. Your scent clung to him like a chain, dragging him further under your clutch, toeing the line between heaven and hell.

Your pussy is gushing around him, undeniably turned on at how easily he's begging for you. Yunho's soft nibbling turns into needy bites, his teeth leaving faint marks on your skin as he gives up on listening to you. His hips smack ruthlessly into yours, leaking tip pressing deep into your wet cunt.

Words are lost on you as Yunho simply takes. All you can do for now is cling to him, a hand in his hair, the other scratching at his back. Your back is pressed into a deep arch, your hips tilting enough to let Yunho drive even deeper. You can feel him everywhere. You can barely see straight, tears beginning to cloud your vision.

Yunho growls pathetically, burying his face in your chest as he comes undone. But his thrusts don't spot. He continues to bully his cock into your sore pussy with no remorse. Even when you try tugging at his arms, his grip only tightens, and he whines about filling you up again, promising to knot you and keep you warm.

Better to ask for forgiveness than permission, right?

kinktober

Adrian never heard so much noise in his life and he lived next to his brother for eighteen years. Chris made him come to this dumb party, he said that he needed to go out, that he needed to meet someone (girls or boys, Chris wouldn't judge, he would swing both ways too). Adrian was going because of pure pressure, he wanted to impress Chris, but being a twenty-one old virgin wasn't a good description for a friend that Smith would like to show off to people as his best friend.

So, Adrian went, and he was hating it, it was way too loud, people were way too drunk and the lights flickered way too much. That's why he didn't went to any parties, Chris said he was crazy for almost being finished with college and never went to a party and fucked someone in the bathroom. He wouldn't do that, why he would fuck in a bathroom?  And even most importantly, who he would fuck in a bathroom?

Chris complained about Adrian's clothes, but he felt like he was looking good, he had jeans on and an oversize long sleeve dark green shirt with two white stripes, he looked good. Chris on the other hand looked like a pimp, but Chase wouldn't tell him that.

Chase was leaning against the kitchen counter, in a corner, holding a beer cup, not drinking it, looking down, completely dissociating from reality. He was feeling well until Chris interrupted his out of body experience.

"Dude", Chris started, holding his arm, "come on, we will play spin the bottle, you need to come."

Adrian just allowed himself to be pulled while complaining, "What are we, dude? Thirteen?"

Chris pulled him to the basement, stopping him in the middle of the stairs, "You're not gonna complain when a hot girl makes out with you… or a hot guy… I don't judge."

Adrian rolled his eyes, "We all know you suck dick too, Chris, you don't have to explain yourself."

He gave a proud smile, "Yeah, I do", and he started pulling Adrian downstairs again, "Let's go."

When Adrian noticed he was sitting on the floor, on a soft shag carpet, that he kept caressing. Around him there were four different girls and three guys, most of them he knew the faces from the campus. He was okay with the idea, it was nerve wracking being there, but it was kind of dark, people were kind of tipsy, so he didn't mind. Until you sat down. Right in front of him, making him swallow hard. You weren't in his course in college, but you had some classes together. Adrian had a huge crush on you, you were nice and always said hi to him, but he kept it to himself. If that bottle stopped on you two, he would throw that bottle across the room.

Adrian dissociated again, the bottle spun and spun and people made out with each other while he was calculating the possibility of actually kissing someone and the possibility of kissing you.

"Dude, it's you", Chris poked him on his bicep, waking him up from his dissociating.

Adrian looked at the bottle pointed at him, and he followed the direction where the bottom was pointing at, and swallowed hard, feeling his face heat up while his stomach froze. You looked at him and smiled, getting on your knees to get close to him. He could hear "Counting Stars" by OneRepublic playing upstairs.

You got really close to his face, "Hey, Adrian", you whispered.

"Hey…", he was so nervous.

"Do you really want to do this?"

He felt a huge finger poke his bicep again, by his peripheral vision he could see Chris' hands moving encouraging him to do it. Adrian nodded, answering you. You smiled again and held his face going in for the kiss. First, it was just a peck, and Chase already felt dizzy, but you started speaking again.

"This position is awful", you said, he only nodded, he would agree to anything with you so close to him like that, "Straighten your legs."

Adrian complied without even thinking about what you would do. He swallowed dry when you passed your legs around his and sat down on his thighs. Adrian's hands started to shake, he still heard the song in the background, but now sounded even more distant, like the whistles and people's sheers because of your action. The kiss restarted, Adrian's hands involuntarily went to your hips, and grabbed harder when he felt your tongue on his lips.

He opened his mouth and allowed you to do whatever you damn pleased with him. The kiss was hungry on Adrian's side, you just complied. Your tongue slid through his, your hands played with his hair. The kiss wasn't that long, because it couldn't and because you felt something on your thigh, pressing against it.

When you parted this kiss and looked at Adrian without understanding at first, and then you smiled. Your smile made his cock throb, making his eyes widen, "Fuck", he whispered. He started to move back, using his hands to slide his legs from under you.

"Adrian? Where are you going?", Chris asked, watching Adrian get up.

"I need to make a call", he said, quickly, going upstairs.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck. You would think he was a perverted nerd. Not even five minutes of kissing with a hot girl on his lap and he already had a raging boner to hump you with.

He got inside the first bathroom he found, closing the door behind him with a bang. His hand went to his hair, "Fuck", he passed around the bathroom two times and groaned, "Fuck", he said again looking at the boner in his pants. The outline was perfectly marked down, he was hoping no one noticed while he was desperately leaving the basement. He could even notice the throbbing, "You're not going down, huh?", he said to his own throbbing cock.

He leaned against the sink, his butt resting lightly against the edge of it. He opened his pants and lowered his underwear just enough to get his cock out. He was so ridiculous, one little kiss and his cock was like that already. He was such a fucking virgin, good god.

He let saliva fall on his hard cock and spread it all over the shaft. He whimpered softly as he started to move his hand up and down himself, giving the tip a harder squeeze from time to time, feeling precum wet his hand, helping out with the movements. He only could think about you and the kiss, he could feel your soft lips on his, your hands on his hair, you tasted like mango Monster energy drink and you smelled like plums. Fuck, it felt so good. He could feel all those eyes on him, while you were on his lap, kissing him. Did he have an exhibitionism fetish? Maybe, the idea of everyone seeing you on his lap kissing him was making his cock throb.

He got startled when he heard a soft knock on the door, "Just a second", he said in a choked voice, wanking even faster. The person knocked again, "Just a second!", if that fucking person didn't stop the knocking he would take longer.

His eyes got wide when he heard the door opening, he looked in that direction and watched you get in and close the door behind you.

"Oh, shit!", he said in complete desperation.

"Hi", you said softly, finally noticing what he was doing.

His face turned bright red, he tried to cover himself with his own arm. His pretty green eyes wide, like a deer caught in headlights. He looked adorable.

"I'm so sorry", he said in desperation, his eyes even getting wider when you started to get close, "I'm sorry…"

"I got worried about you, Adrian", you said, softly, caressing his bicep from the arm that he was using to hide his (huge) shame. He closed his eyes tighter, looking at you again, he could feel his cock throbbing, "You left so quickly… I thought you might be sick or something."

"I… I… I'm sorry…", he groaned, "I don't want you to think I'm a perv… It's just… the kiss... It was nice…"

Shit, he was such a dumbfuck. "It was nice"? "Nice" gives him a giant, red, ranging boner? Could he be more of a virgin?

"Satan… please… open a hole on the floor and take me", he thought, "I will be a great butler in the Underworld."

"I thought the kiss was nice too", you said, with a smile. You looked so naive, like a saint, but Adrian knew you were the devil and you were there to make so much blood go to his face he will get an aneurism, "But I think it was kinda quick, don't you think?"

He nodded without even noticing, looking at your lips, "So quick", he agreed. And then he noticed what was happening when your hand started to go down his forearm and tried to take his arm out of the way, "No", his eyes widened again, "I'm so sorry… I think you're so pretty… I didn't mean to."

"You didn't want to get a boner from kissing me?", you pouted, caressing his hair. He let out a whine, feeling his cock throb again, "You sound so cute…"

"Please… I'm sorry…"

You smiled, "You are such a good boy knowing all your magic words. Would you like some help?", his arm went soft, letting you pull it out of the way. He nodded, biting his bottom lip, he didn't even notice his actions, he was so lost with all his blood in his cock, your pretty face so close to his and your hands on his hair and arms.

You pulled him in for a kiss, your hand going to his cock, holding it firmly going up and down. His eyes closed and he moaned quietly, just letting you do whatever you wanted with him. Your hand was so soft and warm and would go up and down so good around him. His tongue copied your moves, you led the way and he just complied, melting against your fingers.

You parted the kiss, giving him your hand. He immediately knew what you wanted him to do, so he let saliva run down from his lips to your hand, that got back to its work, going up and down his throbbing, leaking cock. Adrian looked deep in your eyes before closing them so he could moan and throw his head back. You took advantage of the free space and started kissing his neck. He smelled so good and his skin was so soft. You took a little bite, just to see if he would like it. His legs trembled when he felt your teeth on his tender skin, his body tensed up when you sucked a hickie on his neck.

"Fuck, that's so good", he whined.

You smiled and licked on top of the sucked skin, he was already delicate in that area and after getting a hickie it was even more delicate.

"Please", he begged, "You need to stop."

"Why?", you asked, looking at him, his pleading eyes looked so pretty, so shiny, the green was so pretty too, he was so cute, you wanted to eat him up. Your hand stopped a bit on his tip and started to pump the area on your fist, "Don't you feel good?"

He nodded, "So, so good", and he bit his lip, "It's just… I don't think I can hold in…"

"Oh, Adrian", you smiled softly, "It's okay. I really wanna watch you cum. I bet you look so cute."

He bit his lip, again watching your hand around his cock, pumping the shaft even faster, your hand putting just the right pressure. His eyes went up to yours, and you smiled and got back to kissing him.

"Fuck", he cursed, letting his body free to feel the pleasure you were giving him.

Your tongue licked his, your teeth bit his bottom lip, and your hand kept masturbating him. He whined loudly when your other hand cupped his balls and massaged it. One of his hands was holding the sink, so he would just fall to the ground, and the other went to your hair, caressing it while kissing you.

His body tensed up, his legs straightening, he stopped kissing you just to whine while looking in your eyes. He looked so cute, his cheeks were pink, his lips, red and wet, his cock was leaking on your hand.

He came in your hand, thick ropes of cum falling your wrist and fist. His body arched when you kept masturbating him, "Too sensitive", he whined, closing his eyes with such force.

"You're so pretty", you whispered.

You finally let go of his cock when his hand held your wrist, and you did it chuckling maliciously, "You're so fucking hot…", he took a deep breath and looked at your hand, "I'm sorry for getting you dirty."

"I don't mind", you assured softly, caressing his hair with your clean hand.

"Let me help you…"

He took your hands to his lips and started licking his own cum on it, looking you in the eyes, while you watched his tongue run down your skin and collect his own cum. When he was done, you pulled him by the soft curly hair and kissed him, licking the cum on his tongue.

Shit. He could feel his cock throbbing again, he just came, he needed to calm down. But, fuck, how would he calm down with your hands on his hair? You still tasted like mango Monster energy drink and the plum smell was so fucking good.

"I wanna make you feel good too", he whispered, giving a peck.

You nodded, you touched the hem of your own black tight crop top and pulled up, letting your breast out. He understood why it was called "flashing", he was going blind from how good your tits looked. His head leaned towards them, you held them together for him, offering yourself to him. And his fucking cock was throbbing again. He licked each of your nipples first, before replacing your hands with his. Tits were so fucking soft, he whined and started sucking on your nipple, his hands massaging your muscle while he did his work.

You moaned softly caressing his soft curls, looking at him in his eyes. Sucking tits was amazing. Tits were amazing for that matter. Fucking your tits must feel like a dream.

"Adrian", you whispered, grinding against his thigh between your legs.

He smiled, shyly, "Look, if I'm not good, you have to let me know, okay?", you nodded and he turned you both around. He held your black pleated skirt up, "Hold it for me, please", he asked, politely, you just obeyed, watching him get on his knees.

Adrian put your right leg on his shoulder, pulling your lilac panties to the side, giving a temptive lick on top of the wet folds. That light lick made your body jerk lightly, and Adrian smiled, that kind of power was so fucking amazing. He dipped his tongue in your pussy, looking at you. You could swear that his pupils dilated when he tasted you. He hummed quietly and tightened his grips on your thighs, sinking his tongue between the wet folds, licking your already hard clit. 

You tasted so good, it was so sweet. He kept licking and sucking watching you closely. Your chest was rising and falling so fast, your hand was fisting the skirt, your hips grinded down against his lips, your face contorted adorably while you were enjoying yourself and moaning for him. Yep, his cock was hard as fuck right now.

One of his hands went to the middle of your legs, one of his fingers entered you without any difficulty, which made him smile while putting another finger next to the first one. You moaned and squirmed around, you felt so fucking good. His pretty eyes were on yours, watching your reactions so he could keep on doing his marvelous work. The orgasm hit you with such force, your body trembled, a loud moan left your mouth without you even noticing.

Adrian licked and fucked your pussy while you had your orgasm, when it became too much, you held him by the hair, pulling him away, "Stop, please."

He smiled dumbly, his lips completely wet, little strings of your pleasure connecting them to your pussy. He looked beautiful like that, smiling softly, his eyes dark, his lips covered in your pleasure, his hair all messy, his cheeks still rosy. He looked like a fucking painting.

"Fuck, you taste good", he said whipping what was left of you wth the back of his arm, getting up, "I think everyone heard you by the way."

You gave him a peck, smiling, "I don't mind", you shrugged, "I like when people know I just had a great orgasm."

"I'm happy you liked it", he smiled.

"Adorable", you complimented and kissed him.

His cock pressed against your thigh, it was crazy how fast he was ready to go again, you would have so much fun with him.

"Do you wanna fuck me?", you asked.

His eyebrows rose, his cheeks flushing. His cock was on your thigh, but he was still ashamed of how bad he wanted to fuck you, "Please."

"Such a polite boy", you complied.

He should have listened to Chris and got the condom he tried to give to him when they arrived at the party, "I don't have a condom", he whispered.

"I don't mind if you don't."

He looked surprised, "You don't?"

"Nope… If you do mind, I can go look for one and you wait here."

Adrian looked at his own cock and then you, "I don't mind…"

You chuckled and looked at the sink, "I think that this sink will break if we fuck on top of it."

You turned around and offered your ass to him. He took a deep breath, his cock resting on top of your ass. His hands went to your waist, trembling uncontrollably. "Control yourself, Adrian", he thought, taking a deep breath.

He pulled your panties down your legs and left it on top of the sink. He took another deep breath and positioned himself, "May I?"

You looked at him over your shoulder, his eyes crossing his own in the mirror in front of you before looking at you, "How do you say?"

"Please?"

You smiled, "Fuck, I'm gonna have fun with you."

He wished you would make him your sex toy and just let him lay in your bed while you sat on his face for hours on end. He whined when he started pushing his cock in. He was big, his fingers got in fairly easy, but with his cock, you needed a little more time.

It took all his strength not to just cum when he was all in, balls deep inside you. Adrian bit his lip and started moving slowly. You felt so tight and wet and warm, it would be fucking hard not to cum in five seconds. 

"Move, please", you pleaded.

And he obeyed, like the good boy he wanted to be for you. He started thrusting slowly, pulling your body through the hips in opposite movements from his own hips. One of his hands went to your hair, holding it while the other kept on your hips. He watched mesmerized as your ass shook from the movements.

"Fuck", he cursed and looked at you.

Your face was pressed against the mirror, he could see his face behind yours in the mirror. Your breath was fogging the mirror while you moaned. He felt incredible.

You were pulled by the hair, you looked at him and just let him kiss you while he fucked you. Adrian went fast and deep, you could feel how desperate he was, but you were too. The moans and slaps of skin against skin filled the tiny bathroom, if someone was waiting outside to use the bathroom they deftly could hear how good you felt and that idea made his hands tighten their grip on you.

"Adrian", you whimpered, so needy.

"You feel so good", he pleaded.

"I wanna cum."

"Fucking please, cum on my cock… please… I will do anything you want…"

You chuckled, "You're cute."

You got his hand from your hip and pulled it between your legs. Immediately he got what you wanted and just obeyed your demand. He started to massage your clit quickly while he kept fucking you with so much force. It was so fucking good. His free hand passed through your belly and he hugged you, making you two even closer, going even deeper. You kept on kissing, it was easier to kiss like this, the movements were as harsh as they were before.

You both whined together, your core squeezing him so good. You felt his cum fill you up and your legs shook, cumming too. Adrian's body was thingly, he just came inside his crush. How did he become so lucky? If he showed up in parties earlier could he have fucked you deep and fast much earlier?

He slipped out of you making you boat groan, "Fucking shit", you whispered.

"I agree", he said, turning you to him, "Do you feel okay?"

"Yes", you nodded, "And you?"

He nodded, happily, "I'm sorry for pushing your face against the mirror", he said, looking guilty, he could see the mark on the glass on where your face was.

You shook your head, "Don't be sorry, I loved it", you caressed his face, giving him a peck, "I think I have to go… My friends must be worried", Adrian nodded, put his cock inside his pants again and helped you adjust your clothes, when he got your panties, you smiled and shoved inside his pocket, "It's for you…", he hated to admit, but was going to do foul things to those panties. You smiled and got your face really close to his, "If you do anything with them, record it and send it to me."

"Yes…", he nodded, "Anything you want", you smiled again, kissing him softly, hugging his neck. When the kiss stopped he looked at you with big puppy eyes, "See you monday in class?"

"Don't you wanna see me tomorrow?"

"I have a DnD session tomorrow afternoon… we can go out after, if you would like."

"Can I come? To the DnD session?"

Adrian smiled, brightly, "If you would like you can play too!"

"I would love it! I will let you know where to pick me up, okay?"

He nodded, "Okay."

You gave him another peck and finally let him go, going to the door. When you opened, Chris was on the other side, his arms crossed, waiting for Adrian to finally come out. He was worried that he had passed out in there. More five minutes and he would break the door down. When he saw you, his eyes widened, looking from you to Adrian, who waved shyly, getting red again.

"What's up, Chris?", you smiled.

"I'm good and you?"

"I'm good too", you smiled like you were an angel and you didn't just allow Adrian to cum deep inside your pussy.

"She is going to the DnD session tomorrow", Adrian said.

Chris looked at him a little angry, "You shouldn't talk about those things with hot girls, Adrian", he mouthed that to Adrian.

"I could take my friend Emilia with me, if you don't mind", you said.

Chris looked at you, his eyes wide, "Yes! Yes, please, take her, please."

You smiled, "You're really dumb", and you pushed Chris out of the way and before you could leave, you looked at Adrian, "Don't forget my video, okay?", and you winked, while Adrian nodded eagerly watching you leave.

"Dude", Chris whispered, "one party and you fuck that hottie in the bathroom?", he laughed loudly, "You're my hero!"

Adrian smiled shyly and got pulled by the hand by Chris so you could celebrate with a few drinks. Adrian complied, but if he was honest, he preferred going home and recording that video for you. But staying he could still be with you and drink with you and Emilia, that made Chris happy too. He should have gone to parties waaaay earlier.

...

[voicemail #2]

october 22nd - 3:43 pm

“i saw this cat earlier that looked like you — okay, not like you-you, but it just reminded me of you in a way. does that sounds bad? i took a picture of the cat, she was really sweet. i’ll send it to you and then you’ll know what i mean.

i’m not saying you look like a stray animal or anything by the way.”

[voicemail #3]

october 22nd - 1:29 am

“h-hey. it’s… adrian. i really hoped you’d pick up. i hm— i wanted to hear your voice for a second, but you’re probably sleeping. just oh— call me when you can, okay? please?”

[voicemail #4]

october 23rd - 9:21 pm

“its just me again. me and chris just took care of some business, nothing too crazy. i’ll spare all the bloody details but trust me — it was cool. like, really cool.

anyway, i’m fine. only a few minor cuts, and one of them looks kind of like a heart if you squint, so that’s fun. i’ll tell you more when i see you, if you want. okay, i’m gonna go disinfect this before i pass out. bye.”

[voicemail #5]

october 23rd - 2:42 am

“hey, it’s late and i can’t sleep. i tried counting sheep, but then i started wondering what sheep even do all day, and that spiraled. so now i’m calling you, because somehow that feels less awkward. you make my brain quieter, i guess. maybe that’s weird, i don’t know. whatever. goodnight.”

Another shout—victory, probably—rattled from his room. You glared at the wall like it was personally mocking you.

You were debating whether running a quick errand would help clear your head when his bedroom door finally creaked open. Your whole body tensed. Footsteps padded down the hallway—slow, lazy, totally unsuspecting. A moment later, he emerged in the doorway of the living room, stretching one arm over his head, shirt riding up just enough to flash a strip of skin.

“Thought you went out,” he said casually, brushing his hair out of his eyes. His voice was raspy from hours of not talking.

“I didn’t,” you managed, hoping your face didn’t give anything away.

He nodded, eyes still half on whatever match he’d just finished. “I’m grabbing water. Want anything?”

Yes, you thought. Absolutely not water.

But out loud, you cleared your throat and said, “I’m good.”

He hummed in acknowledgment and headed toward the kitchen. You kept your eyes glued to the TV—even though it wasn’t on—because watching him move around the apartment in that loose, sleep-worn shirt and those grey sweatpants was not going to help your situation.

A cabinet opened. A glass clinked. The faucet ran. You focused on breathing like a normal human being.

Then, because the universe apparently hated you, he called out, “You okay? You look kinda flushed.”

You stiffened. “I’m fine. Just warm.”

He poked his head back into the living room, brows slightly raised. “I can turn the AC up?”

“No!” you blurted, too fast. “It’s fine. Seriously.”

He blinked, then shrugged like he couldn’t be bothered to figure you out right now. “Alright. Holler if you change your mind.”

And with that, he padded back down the hall, door closing behind him with a soft click.

You exhaled like you’d been underwater.

Great. Back to square one—with even more images you didn’t ask for now elbowing their way into your brain.

Would it really be that crazy to ask him?

The thought slipped in quiet and shameless, and you froze like you’d been caught thinking it out loud. You and Yunho were close. Closer than most roommates ever got. Months of shared takeout, late-night movie marathons, venting on the couch at 2 a.m.—you trusted him. You were comfortable around him.

Too comfortable, maybe.

The idea sat there, bold and reckless. If anyone would take you seriously—even in the most painfully awkward scenario—it’d be him. He’d never made you feel judged for anything before. And wasn’t that what friends were for? Favours, help, honesty?

Except this wasn’t asking him to pick up milk or plunge the sink.

You sank deeper into the couch, pressing your palms to your burning face. You couldn’t even imagine forming the words without combusting. But then your brain, messy traitor that it was, whispered: he wouldn’t have to say yes. He could laugh it off. Pretend it never happened. You could blame hormones or delusion or heatstroke. You’d both move on, maybe with a few weeks of mutual avoidance, but you’d survive.

And if he didn’t laugh?

If he actually considered it—

You shut that door in your mind so fast it nearly came off the hinges.

Still, the question lingered like static in your blood: was it really that out of bounds to want something from someone you already trusted with so much of your life?

You stared at the hallway, at the sliver of light under his door.

You were not going to ask.

Probably.

Maybe.

God, you needed help.

The floor creaked in the hall, and you shot upright like you’d been caught with contraband thoughts. Before you could collect yourself, his door flew open with a bang.

“What the actual fu—” Yunho stormed halfway into the living room, face twisted with raw frustration. His jaw was clenched so tight you could see the muscle ticking beneath his skin, and a vein pulsed visibly along the side of his neck, pronounced and throbbing with each angry breath. “Did the Wi-Fi just die completely?” His voice was louder than usual, sharp-edged and bristling. “I was in the middle of a fucking match and everything crashed! We were winning—I had the last kill lined up and—” He raked a hand through his hair roughly, making it stick up at odd angles, his chest heaving with the kind of anger that came from hours of buildup suddenly snapping.

You blinked at him, words dissolving in your throat. The flush across his cheekbones, the way his shoulders were tensed and drawn up, the visible strain in his neck… Your brain, scrambled beyond repair, reached for the first possible lifeline.

“Do you… have any single friends?” you blurted.

Silence.

His brows pulled together slowly, like he was running diagnostics. “What?”

You wanted to crawl into the couch cushions and never return. “I mean—uh—just curious. You know. For—uh. Research.”

“For… research,” he repeated, expression unreadable. Then, as if deciding not to question it too hard, he chuckled under his breath and shook his head. “You’re so weird sometimes.”

He padded back toward his room, muttering something about restarting the router.

The second his door clicked shut again, you dropped your face into your hands and groaned. Out of all the possible things to say, that was what your brain had offered? Fantastic. Just fantastic.

You told yourself to just sit there. Be normal. Pretend the last thirty seconds hadn’t happened.

But normal had packed its bags hours ago.

Before your dignity could wrestle your mouth shut, you called out, “Wait!”

His door stopped halfway through closing. Yunho leaned back out, one hand on the frame. “Yeah?”

Your brain fired off exactly zero sensible sentences, so you picked the worst possible one.

“Are you… leaving tonight?”

He stared. Not even suspicious—just confused in the purest, most innocent way. “Leaving?” he echoed. “Like… the apartment?”

You nodded too fast. “Yeah. Or, like, hanging out with someone. Or going to a friend’s. Or… I don’t know. Doing something that’s not here.”

His face did a slow-motion frown, like he was trying to load context that didn’t exist. “Why would I go anywhere? It’s almost midnight.”

You opened your mouth. Closed it. Tried again. “Just asking.”

He squinted a little. Not accusing—just baffled. “Are you okay? You’re being weird. Like, weirder than usual.”

“I’m fine,” you lied, probably unconvincingly.

He held up his hands in surrender. “Alright. I’m gonna reset the damn router and finish my game.” And with that, he disappeared back into his room, door clicking shut while you sat there wondering if spontaneous combustion was a thing that could be willed into existence.

The problem was that he looked concerned. Not annoyed. Not amused. Just… worried. And that somehow made everything worse.

You went into his gaming room before your brain could veto it. His chair was still spun halfway toward the door, his monitor glowing with a paused match. You stood in the middle of the room like a stray cat having an episode.

He looked at you with raised eyebrows. “Okay,” he said carefully, “start from the top. What’s going on with you?”

You opened your mouth, absolutely intending to lie. Something vague and dismissible. Something recoverable.

What came out instead was:

“I’m too horny to function and you won’t leave!”

Silence.

Not quiet—dead. Like the world buffer-spun and disconnected.

Yunho just stared. His brain visibly bluescreened.

You slapped both hands over your face and let out a noise that sounded like a ghost getting tasered. “Oh my GOD, I can’t believe I said that, please kill me, actually kill me—”

He made a sound. A soft, stunned laugh of disbelief. “Wait—what?”

You turned away like maybe if you didn’t see him, he didn’t exist. “I told you I’m having a crisis! My body is… doing stuff! And you’re over here making noises through the wall like—I don’t know! Sound porn?!”

“I was playing VALORANT!” he said, both horrified and defensive.

“You grunt when you’re focused!” you accused, pointing at him like that was a crime.

“I—what was I supposed to do, stop breathing?!”

“Yes! No! I don’t know! Move out!”

“That escalated—”

“I told you I needed you to leave!” you wailed. “I was trying to handle it like a normal, sane person but I can’t do that when you’re in the next room moaning every time you get headshotted—”

“I DO NOT MOAN—”

“YOU DO ENOUGH.”

You were breathing like you’d just outrun the cops. He looked like he was considering reincarnation.

Finally, he raked a hand through his hair and said, weakly, “So… just to confirm… you’re—like—turned on and I’m the problem?”

You threw your hands up. “Congratulations, you’ve solved the mystery.”

He made another noise—somewhere between a laugh and a stunned exhale. His ears were bright red. “And your solution was to ask me if I had single friends?!”

“I WAS SCRAMBLING!”

“And then you tried to evict me from my own apartment for the night?”

“Yes! Because I have self-control! Until I don’t!”

He just… stared at you for a long, long second.

Then, very quietly, very carefully, he said, “You know I’m single too… right?”

And THAT was the moment your soul evacuated your body.

You swore something in you tightened at his words—an involuntary pulse of heat that made you want to sink through the floor. Your mouth went dry. You just stared at him like an idiot, eyes wide, brain blank, body unhelpful.

Yunho, of all people, was blushing. Not a little, either—his ears were red, the tips of them practically glowing, and colour was creeping up his neck like he’d been caught doing something illegal. He cleared his throat, but his voice still came out a touch higher than usual. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

You blinked once. Twice. “Because—I didn’t—You’re—You can’t just SAY that.”

“I was trying to help!” he shot back, flustered and defensive and very much avoiding eye contact. “You were yelling at me to evacuate the premises so you could—handle—whatever, and I— I don’t know! I panicked!”

You dragged a hand down your face. “You can’t just… offer yourself like a make-up sample.”

“I DIDN’T—” He stopped, groaned into his palm, and muttered, “Okay, maybe I did a little.”

Silence crawled back in, thick and buzzing. Your heart was thudding like it was planning an escape. His gaze flicked to you, then away, then back again, like he couldn’t decide if looking at you made this better or worse. Finally, he said, quietly, “So… what do we do now?”

Your brain responded with static.

Your body responded with betrayal.

And you? You just stood there, staring at him like a glitching sim, praying the Earth would develop a sinkhole under your feet immediately.

You’re dying inside. Each second that passes is torture, and the way he’s standing there—uncertain, flustered, his fingers nervously tapping against his thigh—is making everything worse. When did his hands become so goddamn fascinating? The way his fingers flex, the veins that trace up his wrists, the little nervous habits you’ve never noticed before are suddenly the most distracting thing in the universe.

He clears his throat. “Maybe we should just forget about—”

“I need you to fuck me right now,” you blurt out, the words practically exploding from your mouth, “or just tell me which one of your friends would be willing to. Because I’m losing my damn mind.”

Yunho’s eyes go wide, mouth dropping open in shock. He stares at you like you’ve just grown a second head. “I—what?” he stammers, his voice cracking. “My friends? You want me to—” He stops, processing what you just said. “Wait, did you just ask me to—”

“Yes,” you say, past the point of embarrassment. “I did. Because apparently subtlety isn’t working.”

He runs a hand through his hair, tugging at it slightly, and you swear the simple gesture sends another wave of heat through your body. You’re going to combust if he keeps doing things like that.

“You...” His voice catches. “You can’t just say that.” Something shifts in his expression—a flash of heat behind the shock. His tongue darts out to wet his lips, and it’s such a small gesture but it makes your stomach do a free-fall.

“I just did,” you say, and your voice doesn’t even sound like yours anymore. “Look, I’m going insane here. You keep doing—” you gesture vaguely at all of him, “—THAT.”

“What am I doing?” he asks, genuinely confused.

“EXISTING!” you practically shout. “Standing there with your stupid hands and your stupid face and—god, you were just playing with your hair and I swear I almost launched myself at you.”

His eyes widen fractionally, and then—oh no—his lips curve into something that’s almost a smirk. Almost. “So...” he says slowly, “you’re saying I’m the problem?”

“Yes! No! I don’t know!” You run your hands through your hair in frustration. “I’m the problem. My body is the problem. The fact that you won’t stop fidgeting with your hands is the problem.”

And then, because apparently you’ve lost all control, you point accusingly at his fingers, which are currently drumming a nervous pattern against his thigh. “THAT. That right there! Stop it!”

He immediately freezes, looking down at his own hand like it’s betrayed him. “I’m not doing anything!”

“You’re breathing too loud!”

“I’m—” he sputters, “I can’t control that!”

“Exactly my point! ” you exclaim, throwing your hands up. “So either help me solve this problem or point me to someone who will, because I am DYING here.”

There’s a split second where time seems to stop. Yunho is staring at you, his pupils blown wide, chest rising and falling rapidly. Before you can process what’s happening, he moves.

In two quick strides, he’s in front of you. His hands cup your face, rough and urgent, and then his mouth crashes against yours. His fingers thread through your hair, tugging just enough to tilt your head back, deepening the kiss as he walks you backward until your back hits the wall.

“Is this what you want?” he growls against your mouth, his voice so low it sends shivers down your spine. “You want me to fuck you senseless? Make you forget your own name?”

The sudden change makes your knees weak.

Your answer is to grab his shirt and pull him back to you, kissing him hard. “Shut up and do it already,” you whisper.

You found his lips again, hungry and desperate. There was no time to waste. Your mouth met his wild and uninhibited—a delicious mess of pure want. You didn't care that your kiss betrayed a hunger that left no room for grace. But could you be blamed? Every single touch burned you from the inside out.

Something in him snaps. Your soft, desperate sounds pull him under completely. The kiss turns fierce—your mouths clashing, breath mingling, tongues chasing each other in a dizzying rhythm. His hands roam everywhere at once—up your sides, over your hips—before gripping firmly and lifting you as if you weigh nothing.

You gasp, a small, startled sound that quickly melts into a moan when your back hits the wall. Your legs wrap around his waist instinctively, drawing him closer, the friction between you sparking heat that steals your breath. The world narrows to this moment—his body against yours, the taste of his mouth, and the hunger that refuses to be tamed.

He trails hot, open-mouthed kisses down your neck, teeth grazing the rapid beat of your pulse. His hands slip beneath your clothes, and the moment his skin meets yours, you swear nothing else has ever felt like it. His touch is addictive leaving searing trails across your skin that make you gasp and arch into him, desperate for more.

You’re burning from the inside out, every touch sending electric currents through your body. Yet even through the fire, a shiver runs down your spine—not from cold, but from the dizzying rush of it all. His fingers dig into your thighs, holding you up with effortless strength. You barely notice how hard he’s gripping you until you feel the dull ache blooming under his fingertips—marks you know will linger, proof of how completely you’ve given in.

His breath is hot against your ear when he murmurs, “Been thinking about this for months…” The confession sends a shiver straight through you. You can’t hold back the sound that escapes your throat when his fingers slide higher, teasing at the edge of your underwear. Your head falls back against the wall, offering yourself up as he trails open-mouthed kisses down your neck.

“About how your body would feel under mine,” he whispers between kisses, his lips dragging heat across your skin. “How you’d taste.” Each word is punctuated by another mark, another slow press of his mouth, until you can feel every bruise blooming where his lips have been.

He doesn’t seem to care who might see the evidence later—but you know you’ll wear each one like a secret, a quiet kind of pride.

His mouth lingers against your neck, a low sound rumbling from deep in his chest. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he murmurs, the words half-growl, half-confession. Every movement is firm, deliberate—claiming, not asking.

“Need you...” you gasp as his hands slide over the curve of your ass, squeezing possessively, earning a moan from you. “I’ve never—ah—never needed anything this badly.” A sharp sting follows—he can’t stop himself from slapping your ass again. The faint burning on your skin is addicting.

Yunho’s teeth graze your earlobe. “Tell me how badly,” he demands, his voice rough with desire. “Tell me what you want me to do to you.” He kneads the soft flesh in his hands a bit more, only to move them up to the most dangerous zone, where it feels like you are about to burst. He drags his long fingers along your skin till he finds your heated core. The slight touch makes your stomach flip—like free-falling.

His fingers tease at your entrance through the thin fabric of your underwear, and you whimper, pressing against him desperately. The evidence of his arousal is hard against your core, making your entire body throb with anticipation. You curse under your breath, not sure if Yunho caught it or not.

“I want— ” Your breath catches, a shaky moan leaving your lips as his thumb circles exactly where you need it most. It's slow and deliberate, each move tantalising. The fabric—no matter how thin—keeps you from feeling him completely. It's torturous, like chasing a mirage. A moan rumbles deep in your throat. Shivers run down your spine. You try to continue. “I want to feel you inside me. Want you to make me scream your name.” Your fingers tangle in his hair, tugging hard enough to make him hiss. The pain seems to fuel him, you catch him smirking — he shifts his grip to support your weight with one arm while the other finally, finally pushes your underwear aside. The chill air hits your warm core for a brief second, making you shiver.

“You’re so wet,” he murmurs, his slender fingers meeting with your warm slick, voice filled with wonder as his fingers slide through your folds.

“It’s your fault” You roll your hips against his hand, seeking more friction. “Take responsibility for it.” He plays with your aching bud a little more, making you squirm with need. 

He captures your mouth again, swallowing your moans as one finger slides inside you. He wasn’t rushing not to hurt you, letting you take him in with delicacy. You inhale sharply, the length of his finger alone takes your breath away. The stretch is exquisite, but not nearly enough. “Another,” you plead against his lips. “More, please—”

He loves hearing you beg. He obliges gladly, adding a second finger, curling them in a way that makes your vision blur at the edges. “Like this?” he asks, smirking as you cry out. “Is this what you’ve been so desperate for?” His fingers move inside you, in and out, almost—but not quite—touching where you need him most.

“Don’t—ah—don’t tease,” you manage to say in between pants, your voice breaking as his thumb finds your clit, already swollen with arousal. “I’ve been thinking about your hands on me for so long.”

His rhythm falters for a split second. “You have?” The question sounds genuinely surprised—almost vulnerable—despite the position you're in.

“Yeah,” you admit, cupping his face and forcing him to meet your gaze. “Every time you walk around shirtless after a shower. Every time I hear you through these paper-thin walls.” You roll your hips against his hand for emphasis. “Every. Fucking. Time.”

The confession is the last drop—the leftover inhibition dissolving in an ocean of primal desire. Without warning, he withdraws his fingers, leaving you whimpering at the loss. Before you can protest, he’s carrying you to his bedroom, kicking the door shut behind him.

Yunho lays you on the bed with surprising gentleness, then stands back to pull his shirt over his head in one fluid motion. As the light reflects off his skin, you realise his form is no different than the ancient statues people gaze at with awe. The sight of his bare torso—all lean muscle and smooth skin—makes your mouth go dry. You can’t help but watch the subtle flex of his muscles, your gaze lingering on the v-line that disappears into his sweatpants. Each move feels like an invitation to touch him. Your fingers instinctively find his body, trailing down the lines the light contours to perfection. He isn’t a game your mind is playing—he’s flesh and bone in front of you—yet it feels surreal.

“Take your clothes off,” he says, pulling you out of your deep haze, his voice a command that sends heat pooling between your thighs. “I want to see all of you.”

You comply eagerly, tugging your shirt over your head and shimmying out of your bottoms. His gaze is heavy on your skin, tracking every movement as you reveal yourself to him.

When you’re down to just your underwear, you hesitate, suddenly feeling a flash of vulnerability. Yunho seems to sense your uncertainty. He leans down to press a surprisingly tender kiss to your lips. “So fucking beautiful it hurts to look at you sometimes.”

The confession makes your heart stutter. “Yun...”

“Let me take care of you,” he whispers, pressing kisses down your neck, your collarbone. “Let me make you feel good.” And you surrender to him.

His hands slide up your sides, thumbs brushing the undersides of your breasts before moving to unhook your bra. He helps you slip it off, then kisses his way down to take a nipple into his mouth. The wet heat of his tongue sends sparks of pleasure racing through you. Your nipples harden under his attention. His mouth works wonders—sucking the soft skin as if he's been parched and deprived, flicking the hard bud with deliberate strokes of his tongue. Your moans overpower every other sound in the room.

You arch into him, one hand fisting in his hair while the other grips his shoulder hard enough that your nails dig crescents into his skin. “More,” you gasp, the word barely coherent as he switches to your other breast, giving it the same devoted attention. The heat between your legs is unbearable now, your body begging for him to touch you where you need it most.

He lavishes attention on one breast, then the other, alternating between gentle licks and firmer suction that has you writhing beneath him. He bites down too—small, sharp nips that leave subtle red marks you know will darken by morning. All the while, his hands explore, learning every curve and dip of your body like he's memorising you by touch.

When his mouth travels lower, pressing hot kisses across your stomach, your breathing becomes shallow with anticipation. He hooks his fingers into the waistband of your underwear, looking up at you for permission.

“Please,” is all you can say, lifting your hips to help him.

He slowly drags the fabric down your legs, his eyes never leaving yours. The intensity of his gaze makes you feel exposed in the most exhilarating way. Once you’re completely bare, he takes a moment just to look at you, he studies each and every curve of your sweet body, memorising the landscape of your figure with a devouring gaze.

A possessive smile creeps on his lips slowly, “Spread your legs for me,” he says, his voice hoarse with want. You comply, knees falling open as he settles between them.

The first touch of his breath against your core makes you shiver.

“You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to taste you,” he confesses, pressing a kiss to your inner thigh. “How many nights I was thinking about making you come on my tongue.” Each word is rewarded with kisses on your sensitive skin. The closer he gets, more you start to tremble with anticipation. 

The words alone nearly push you over the edge. “Then do it,” you challenge, tangling your fingers in his hair. “Show me.” You pull on the soft strands as you pant.

His eyes flash with determination before he lowers his head. And you can swear you just went to heaven and back, the moment his mouth meets your core you feel ecstatic. The first swipe of his tongue has you crying out, its wide across you, stimulating each nerve there at once. Your hips buck involuntarily. His tongue is warm on your wet core. The sensation is immaculate, you can’t help but to melt in his mouth. He pins you down with strong hands on your thighs, holding you open as he works you with his mouth.

“Oh god—Yun—” You can barely form words as he circles your clit with his tongue, alternating between broad strokes and targeted precision that makes your toes curl. “That’s—fuck—right there.”

He hums against you, the vibration sending another wave of pleasure crashing through your body. He could swear he's never tasted anything sweeter. Your slick coats his mouth—he loves devouring you, loves the mess of it all. It's driving him insane. As he sucks on your clit, he slides two fingers inside you, heightening the pleasure. He curls them to hit that perfect spot while his tongue continues its relentless assault. You feel yourself rapidly approaching the edge.

“I’m close,” you warn, voice breaking. “So close—”

He redoubles his efforts, establishing a rhythm that has you gasping for air. The combination of his fingers and his tongue sends you careening over the edge. Your back arches off the bed as pleasure explodes through you, waves of it crashing over you as you cry out his name, hand harshly pulling his hair.

He works you through it, gentling his touch as you become oversensitive, pressing soft kisses to your inner thighs as you struggle to catch your breath. He gladly cleans your sweetness from you with his tongue. 

When you finally open your eyes, he’s looking up at you with a mixture of awe and smug satisfaction that should be illegal. “That was the hottest thing I’ve ever seen,” he says, slowly making his way back up your body.

You pull him down for a hungry kiss, tasting yourself on his wet lips. “Your turn,” you murmur, reaching between you to palm the hard length still confined by his sweatpants.

He groans into your mouth, hips instinctively pressing into your touch. “These need to come off,” you insist, tugging at his waistband.

Yunho strips off his remaining clothes. Your mouth waters at the sight of him—all of him—finally bare before you. He’s gorgeous, his body lean and strong, his arousal evident and impressive. You can’t fathom what's waiting for you. If his fingers alone reached so deep inside you how would his dick feel?

“Condom,” he mutters, fumbling in his bedside drawer. You watch, still pleasantly dazed from your orgasm, as he rolls it on with practiced ease.

When he returns to you, hovering above your body, there’s a moment of perfect stillness. His eyes search yours, a question in them that goes beyond physical want.

Something in his expression shifts, softens, then blazes with renewed hunger. He positions himself at your entrance, the head of his cock teasing against your sensitised flesh.

“Tell me if I need to stop,” he says, voice strained with the effort of holding back. He gives his length a few strokes. Then, with a groan that sounds like surrender, he pushes forward, entering you in one slow, deliberate thrust that has both of you gasping. The stretch is delicious, your body accommodating his size with a pleasure that borders on pain. The girth is not what you’re used to, no, this is revolutionary.

“Fuck,” you breathe, his forehead pressed against yours, his body trembling. “You feel—you're so big—” He’s clearly amused by your words, pride flickering across his face. You dig your nails into his shoulders. “Oh—fuck.” You clench around him, the grip so tight it nearly prevents him from moving any further, and he moans at the sensation of your walls wrapped around his cock.

He gives you a moment to adjust, stroking your hair as you both breathe against each other’s lips. “You okay?” he whispers.

“Yeah.” You nod, then roll your hips, taking him even deeper, and the broken moan that tears from his throat is your new favourite sound.

He finally begins to move, setting a rhythm that has you clutching at the sheets. Each thrust sends waves of pleasure radiating through your body, building on the sensitivity from your previous orgasm. The drag of him inside you is exquisite—filling you completely before withdrawing just enough to make you chase the sensation. 

“God, you’re perfect,” he groans, his voice strained as he watches where your bodies connect. “So tight around me—so fucking perfect.” He’s mesmerised by the sight of you taking him in completely, like you were made for each other. It drives him wild.

You can’t help the whimpers escaping your throat with each roll of his hips. The pressure is building again, faster than before, coiling tight in your lower abdomen. “Harder,” you plead, wrapping your legs tighter around his waist. “Need you deeper.”

Yunho’s eyes flash dark with desire. Seems like that’s what he wanted to hear desperately. He shifts his angle, hooking one of your legs over his shoulder to drive even deeper. The new position hits something inside you that makes stars burst behind your eyelids. As the new position offers you more freedom, he is now plunging in the deepest spots of your core. Each thrust is making you cry out with screams of pleasure, rocking your body and pushing you closer to the edge. 

“There!” you cry out, back arching off the bed. “Right there—don’t stop—fuck!”

His rhythm becomes more urgent, more desperate. His thrusts are precise, relentlessly hitting the spot that has your eyes rolling back. The sight before him is almost pornographic: your eyes rolled behind your lids, the whites peeking through; your mouth agape, tongue practically lolling out; your body twitching with each stroke. Sweat beads on his forehead, his muscles tensing under your fingertips as he chases both your pleasure and his own. “Touch yourself,” he commands, voice rough with exertion. “Let me see you come again.”

You slip a hand between your bodies, obeying his command, finding your clit swollen and sensitive.

“Good girl.”

The praise sends another surge of heat through you. Your movements falter for a second—you're so lost in pleasure that your body struggles to obey. The dual sensation of your fingers and his cock has you spiralling toward the edge almost immediately. Your moans grow even louder, as if that were possible considering how vocal you’ve been all along.

“God my cock is so wet going in and out of you.” Your fingers move faster against your clit, matching the rhythm of his increasingly erratic thrusts. “You love being filled like this, don’t you?”

His words only drive you closer to the edge. “Look at me,” he demands, and your eyes snap open to meet his. The intensity in his gaze nearly undoes you. “I want to see your face when you come on my cock.”

The building pressure snaps like a wire pulled too tight. You come with his name on your lips, your inner walls clenching around him in rhythmic pulses. The intensity of it leaves you gasping, arching, trembling, clutching at him like he’s the only solid thing in a world gone liquid with pleasure.

“That’s it,” he groans, his rhythm faltering as your walls clench around him. “Fuck, you’re squeezing me so tight—I’m gonna—” His words dissolve into a guttural moan as he follows you over the edge, his hips stuttering as he spills into the condom. He buries his face in your neck, his breath hot against your skin as aftershocks roll through both your bodies.

For several long moments, the only sound in the room is your mingled breathing. He collapses beside you, careful not to crush you with his weight, and pulls you against his chest. His heartbeat thunders under your ear, gradually slowing as you both come down from the high.

His fingers trace lazy patterns on your skin, his touch gentle and reverent—a stark contrast to the intensity of moments before. “That was... ” he starts, then laughs softly, seeming unable to find adequate words.

“Yeah,” you agree, smiling against his skin. “It really was.”

A moment passes between you, the air heavy with what just happened. Yunho shifts slightly, and you notice a flicker of uncertainty cross his face—so different from the confident man who just took you apart.

“Do you...” he starts, then clears his throat. His eyes dart away from yours briefly before returning. “Do you want to stay? Here? With me?” The question comes out hesitant, almost shy, as if he’s bracing himself for rejection. The vulnerability in his voice makes something warm bloom in your chest. You reach up to brush a strand of hair from his forehead, letting your fingers linger against his skin.

“I’d like that,” you reply softly. “Very much.”

He smiles, relief washing over his features, before pulling away briefly to dispose of the condom. When he returns, he gathers you back into his arms, and the comfortable silence stretches between you, your fingers still absently tracing patterns on his chest. Yunho shifts slightly, catching your hand in his. He brings it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss to your palm that makes your heart flutter.

“Can I...” he starts, then stops, a blush creeping up his neck. He looks surprisingly bashful for someone who was so commanding just minutes ago. “Can I kiss you? Again, I mean.”

“You know,” you say, smiling as you trace his bottom lip with your thumb, “for someone who just had his dick inside me, that’s an adorably hesitant question.”

His blush deepens, but he laughs, the sound rumbling pleasantly against your skin. “Yeah, well... that was in the heat of the moment. This feels... different.”

You understand what he means. The desperate hunger has given way to something more tender, more vulnerable. More dangerous, in its own way.

Instead of answering, you lean in, pressing your lips to his in a kiss that’s gentle but unmistakably wanting. When you pull back, his eyes remain closed for a moment longer, as if savouring the sensation.

“How many rounds of Valorant did you play today?” you ask, your voice low as you trail a finger down his chest.

He blinks, thrown by the sudden change in subject. “Uh, seven or eight, I think? Why?”

You push him gently onto his back, swinging a leg over to straddle his hips. His hands automatically come to rest on your thighs as he gazes up at you.

“Because,” you say, rolling your hips just enough to make his breath catch, “I want at least that many rounds with you.”

A slow, dazed grin spreads across his face. “Well, you know what they say about gamers,” he murmurs, his thumbs making small circles on your skin.

“What’s that?”

His grin turns wicked as he flips you suddenly, pinning you beneath him with a smoothness that makes your pulse race. “We have excellent stamina and very, very good finger control.”

As his mouth finds yours again, more demanding this time, you think that you’ve never been so grateful for his gaming obsession.

“So,” you murmur when you finally break apart, “does this mean you’ll take more breaks from Valorant now?”

You took breaks from your eager anticipation, undressing each other, spending minutes kissing, laughing, chattering about something or another. You watched Adrian go hard and soft, amusing yourself with the way he jumps at your touch, how quickly it fades when you step out of view. Lacking object permanence if you weren’t right there in front of him. It was a morning of circus acts for the two of you, lazy and silly and awaiting that damn charger.

“Do you think it’ll fit on you hard?” You ask, slipping two, then three fingers into the ring.

“We can just try both!” Adrian offers, “You saw how totally easy it was for me to switch anyway.”

You laugh, “It would be fun to see you get hard with it on though.”

“Okay, we’ll just do that then.” He leans over to kiss your cheek, bracing himself with your interlocked hands firm on your knee.

The toy lets out a soft buzz, and you hum an excited oooh as you grab it from the nightstand and motion for Adrian to hurry up and yank his boxer briefs off.

He falls back onto the floor, kicking off the underwear in a high arc over to the other side of the bed. He’s already half-hard, leaning back on his hands, waiting for you to slide the ring down his dick.

You grab lube from the nightstand, slicking up the ring and yet struggling to get it over his shaft, flesh growing taut with every centimeter of give. You pull it back off, sighing, “Ugh, close your eyes.”

Adrian screws his eyes shut, and within seconds he’s softening.

“That’s unbelievable.” You laugh, slipping the toy down to his base, giving him a few cursory strokes on your way back up.

“What is?” He raises his brows, eyes still closed, an open mouthed smile curving across his lips.

“Your dick is like, super fickle.” You squeeze the head, watching his length grow stiff, feeling a light pulse under your fingers.

His laugh is undercut with a gentle groan as the ring compresses his erection, “Can I open my eyes now?”

“Oh, yeah, sorry.”

His eyes meet yours for a split second before he’s darting your direction and yanking you around his lap, mouth seeking the warmth of a kiss. He tugs you up to your knees, and you kiss for several minutes like this, bodies slotted against each other, his erection pressing between your bellies.

You slip a hand down to his cock, and it jumps under your palm with each brush against the toy, the skin aching and red at his base. You press the button on the underside of the toy, and it begins humming gently.

He breaks from you to stand up with a surprised aaah, clenching his fists and pacing back and forth for a moment.

“Adrian?” You stare up at him, getting to your feet but staying away, “Everything okay?”

He grimaces at you, his brows kicked up, “I think I need to fuck you like, now. Like right now.”

“Oh!” You laugh, scratching at your neck, “That’s fine.”

“No, I mean, without all the preamble or anything like I need to be inside you.” His abdomen tenses, and he screws his eyes shut for a second before adjusting once more to the sensation.

“Okay, are you going to keep talking about it or?” You trail off, the tease in your voice overtaken by a harsh giggle as Adrian rushes you to the wall, his lips latching to your neck, hips hitching against your waist.

You link your arms around his neck, hopping up into his grasp, ankles hooking behind his back as he holds tight underneath your thighs.

He slips between your folds once, twice, before pressing into you full force.

The drywall behind you is rough on your back, little scrapes of uneven surface digging into your skin as he ruts against you. The gentle vibration of the toy whirls around your clit, sending quick bursts of pleasure through your gut, but you ache for more.

You wrap a hand around the back of Adrian’s neck, reaching down with the other one to try and hit the button to no avail. He continues fucking into you, his head tucked into your neck.

“Hey, hey.” You whisper, and he pulls back to look at you.

“Yeah?” His lips are wet and glistening from the hickeys he’s been sucking into your neck; you can’t help but lean forward for a kiss. One that turns into two that turns into many, his tongue twisting over yours, satisfied hums and smacking lips in the air between you.

Before you muster the will to break from the kiss, Adrian’s set down one of your legs and is reaching to change the vibration himself. A few clicks up from what you would’ve gone for, the pressure on your clit is immediate and overpowering. He slips barely back from you between each thrust, closer to grinding than thrusting, your insides overwhelmed with the steady thrum of his head deep at your core.

The sensation on your clit whirls in tight coils underneath your skin, and you tilt up on your tip-toes, baring yourself open for him. Hitching your hips in time with his heedless rutting, mouth agape breathing moans into his lips.

“Fuck, this feels good.” He grins at you, letting his forehead drop against yours, “Do you like it?”

You nod, clenching your teeth, screwing your eyes shut, falling into his rhythm and muttering expletives as the pleasure in your cunt marries that of your clit. Sharp jolts from the vibration and resounding waves of Adrian’s length filling you up, hitting over and over until you find yourself driving back into the wall deeper and deeper. Hard drywall smashes your skin, pulling it taut up and down with each intense grind of Adrian’s hips, until you seize in place, your orgasm crashing through you.

Adrian doesn’t let up, doesn’t turn off the vibrator. He fucks into you through your climax, drawing it out, hitching you back up with both legs around his waist.

“Ohh yes, shit. This is so hot.” He whines, digging his fingers into your thighs as you shake against him. You can feel your cunt pulsing around his cock, whimpers rising from your lungs to the open air, the overwhelming flash of your orgasm extended by an encore of thrumming at your clit, little aftershocks begging for release.

You can’t stop yourself convulsing in his grasp, can’t gather the words to ask him to ease up, nor are you certain you even want him to.

“I’m gonna, yeah, fuck, I’m—” His grip on you tightens, and his head falls back, tendons in his neck straining as he lets the toy drag him through the sensation of his orgasm. “Fuck.” He draws the word out, the involuntary jerking of his hips up into you as you feel cum seeping from your entrance.

He lets you down gently, enveloping you with his body, elbows braced on either side of your head as he leans in for slow, languid kisses.

The toy vibrates between you two, your stomachs jumping, his fucked out erection twitching against your bodies.

You feel the wince in his lips as you reach down to turn it off, a sigh of relief inter-cut with laughter as he mutters gratitude into your mouth.

“That was worth a shot, absolutely.” You join him laughing, chaste kisses melting into something deeper and fading back out again.

Adrian tugs you back to the bed, both of you falling backwards next to each other, turning to face the other.

“Just wait till Peacemaker hears about this.”

You laugh, reaching over to squeeze at Adrian’s cheeks, pressing a kiss to his nose, his cheeks, his forehead. You tap between his eyebrows.

“Yeah, you better make sure he knows you’re more than capable of keeping your partner satisfied.”

You sidle up to his chest, guiding his arm around your shoulders, “But if he wants to keep buying us expensive toys, fuck if I’m gonna stop him.”

Adrian presses a kiss to your forehead, “Oh, he didn’t buy it. He busted up an adult store that was running a sweat shop in the basement. There’s like boxes of stuff at HQ.”

You look up at him with wide eyes.

Putting your hands on her shoulders, admiring the makeup she did herself, you smiled and said, “June, please.” Slipping the phone into the pocket of her jacket and the flashlight into the back pocket of her shorts, you brushed your hands off and propped them on your hips. “There, no carrying.”

She scoffed, rolling her head back with a whine. “But, I don’t wanna-”

“June,” you said, eyes going slightly wide. “I called Skye’s mom. You know I did, I talk to her everyday. I’m sorry they’re traveling,” you softened, giving her a gentle shake, snaking an arm around her shoulder, leading her into the living room where noise echoed. “It’s unpredictable for them, with what Skye’s dad does, they’re always up and around.”

Huffing, she folded her arms over her jacket. “I wish we could be up and around.”

A head popped up from behind the sofa, one smiling, one eyeing you with caution. He had one sneaker in his hand and a three-year olds foot in the other. The dusty brown hair on his head, grown longer on the top, cut shorter on the sides, had been pushed back off of his forehead, his skin aglow with the same get-the-kids-out-of-the-house sweat that yours was. 

“Ready to go?” he asked June, who shrugged. “You look awesome, Rumi.” Glancing down at her to watch her blush and hide her smile, you patted her on the back and joined Yunho on the floor in front of the couch. He let you take the sneaker from him, muttering, “Hey, I was doing that.”

Giving him a look, you smirked. “You handed it to me.”

Leaning into you, he narrowed his eyes. “You took it from me.”

Jutting your chin forward, slipping the shoe onto Yuri’s foot in seconds, you kissed Yunho at the same time. Scooping her up in your arms, you stood up and looked down at him, frozen, lips still pursed, gazing up at you. 

“Stop,” you giggled, taking Yuri dressed as a puppy around to the front door where June waited, tapping at the cell phone. Dropping her sister off at her side, you pressed a finger to the top of the phone and pushed it away from her face gently. Big, brown eyes looked at you. “You can take pictures, you can text Skye, you can call me and Dad. No Instagram, no TikTok, no Google Translate.”

“No Google-”

“No,” you laughed, fixing the ears on top of Yuri’s head, “Miss Murphy on the corner thinks you’re of African descent, June.” She giggled, as did you. “I appreciate you learning other languages, but stop confusing the elderly, please. I also need your eyes on your brother and sister. We’re letting you go alone like you asked.” 

Every neighbor had been notified a week ago that June would be on her own with the two littles.

She didn’t know that, though.

Smiling at her, you swiped a thumb under her eye to fix the eyeshadow fallout. “You’ve got a kickass costume, kid.”

“Bitchin’,” she said with a nod, and you grinned.

“Totally bitchin’,” you whispered.

Turning into the house to search for Aden, your six year old, the last of your crew to find, you left June and Yuri by the door, June setting them up to take a selfie on the cell phone you were giving her for the night. Peering into the living room, empty. The kitchen, empty. The bathroom on the first floor, empty. Footsteps pounded on the floor above you, racing for the stairsteps.

You braced yourself.

Standing at the end of the hall, eyes pointed at the steps, Yunho came down first, absolutely losing his mind. With a hand pressed to his mouth to hide this laughter, his curled brows gave him away.

“You’re gonna freak out,” he mumbled to you, warning you, “Please, don’t freak out, he’s so excited. I’ll deal with his shower when he gets home, I promise.”

Typical Yunho and Aden. Keeping things a secret from you and the girls until it happened. He could see it in your eyes, the disappointment that always leaned more towards curiosity. 

“Is he not an Oompa Loompa, Yo, he’s been begging for weeks,” you whispered. “He adores that old movie, I had those white overalls specially made for him.”

Yunho slid his hands over his front and bobbed his head. “Oh, he’s an Oompa Loompa.”

Your six year olds voice poured down the stairs with every step he took, singing. “Who can take a sunrise, sprinkle it with dew,” his little kid, kind of alright pitch made you smile. Yunho bit down on his lip and whirled around. “Cover it with chocolate and a miracle or two?” 

Giving each other a glance, you both said, “The Candy Man?”

Aden thundered down the rest of the stairs and jumped off the bottom one, bumping into the wall on his way down. “Oh, the Candy Man can!” He bounced on two feet and threw his arms in the air, expecting grand applause. 

He got it from his father, but you smacked a hand over your mouth.

What was supposed to be white overalls, a striped shirt and green hairspray had turned into orange body paint everywhere and a fluffy green wig. At least the overalls were clean.

Aden squinted his eyes at you. Dropping his pose, he marched by you like the Oompa Loompas in the movie, with his chin held high and his knees bouncing every so often. 

“You would’ve said no,” he whispered as he passed by you. He joined his sisters at the door, the girls screaming their excitement. 

Turning to Yunho, you smacked him on the chest and laughed aloud. “Are you kidding me? That’s hysterical!”

Smiling at you, it not reaching his eyes, he asked, “Would you have said no?”

“Probably,” you said immediately, and he laughed. “He’s gonna be stained orange for school tomorrow, but whatever, you know what he’ll say if we tell him that.”

“That’s theatre, baby,” you both said at the same time, falling toward one another in a fit of giggles. 

Slinging your arms around his neck, you stood up on your tiptoes and pressed a kiss to his lips, one slower this time. “Thanks for getting him ready,” you whispered, nuzzling your noses together, “He loves his daddy.”

Leaning in to kiss you again, you pulled away before he could catch your lips. Leaving him with a groan in his chest, he followed you toward the kids at the front of the house, snapping pictures of the three of them posing together. 

“You can go around as many times as you want, okay,” you said, sliding your phone in your sweatshirt pocket, reaching down to straighten Aden’s wig. “I’m obsessed, Mr. Wonka,” you said, and he smiled, missing one of his front teeth and another on the bottom. “You will be orange tomorrow though, you know that?”

Aden relaxed his face and winked. “That’s theatre, baby.”

You heard Yunho laugh behind you. Yuri teetered around her brother and stomped up to her father, holding her arms up. Scooping her up, popping a kiss on her cheek, he looked at you and softened his brows. Tilting his chin, asking you a question you couldn’t hear, you watched as his eyes peeked at Yuri, then back at you. 

“Puppy twins,” you cooed, and turned to June, hearing Yunho groan to himself again. “What happens if you get lost?”

June, clutching her pillowcase that would come back full of sweets, said, “I call you.”

Yunho set Yuri down and followed behind her as she wobbled toward Aden, showing off how their plastic pumpkins matched. “What do you do if you feel unsafe?”

June nodded. “I go to Miss Murphy’s house, or Miss Rin’s.”

“Good job, June-bug,” Yunho said softly, wrapping an arm around your back. Looking up at him, he returned your small smile. “Have fun,” he said, moving to push the front door open for the kids, June taking Yuri by the hand, Aden bouncing out of it, singing the Oompa Loompa song, “Be careful, call us if you need us, you know where to go.”

Tiptoeing behind them, giving Yuri a teeny wave as she looked back at you with a grin on her cheeks, her hand wrapped around June’s thumb, you pressed yourself up against the doorway and watched them bound down the driveway in the glow of the setting sun.

The moment they disappeared around the bushes of the neighbors house, Yunho let the door swing shut and engulfed you in his arms, nearly taking you out, the titan swallowing you whole. Smacking kisses to one cheek and over your nose to the other cheek, you threw your hands at his chest, an attempt to swat him away. 

“Enough,” you giggled, stumbling backward into the house with him, “Enough!”

“No,” he groaned, taking his hands to your chin, tilting you back. He kissed you, and said, “You’ve been ignoring me for two days, I can’t stand it.” 

Wrapping your arms around his back, holding onto your wrists, you furrowed your brows. “Ignoring you? What are you talking about?”

He rolled his eyes. “Well, two nights ago when we made dinner you barely looked at me.”

“I was helping Aden with his math homework at the same time, my mind was split,” you shrugged.

Pushing you up against the island counter in the kitchen, he placed his hands on the marble and tilted his head, his gaze lowering to your lips. “Last night you didn’t sit next to me while we watched Chitty Chitty Bang Bang.”

Sighing, you said, “The girls wanted to sit with me, they like it when we sing the songs together, you know Yuri and her toot sweets.”

Yunho tightened his brow and glanced behind you. “I gotta figure out a way to make them…”

“Well,” you smiled up at him and his adamance for pleasing his children, “You know who can?”

His eyes flickered to yours. “Who?”

Rising to your tiptoes, you kissed him and whispered, “The Candy Man can…”

Masking his growing smile with some sort of frustrated groan, he grabbed onto your waist and lifted you up onto the counter, wedging himself between your knees. Hands smoothing over your thighs, he shook his head. “Willy Wonka doesn’t turn me on.”

Tightening your arms around his neck, pressing your chest to his, you said, “The one with Johnny Depp does.”

He blew a raspberry on his lips. “And that’s why we never watch it.”

“Because of that time Mingi dressed up like him-”

“Stop!” 

“I’m sorry,” you laughed, giving him a soft kiss, hands massaging into his shoulders. “I’m also sorry I’ve been avoiding you…”

He threw his head backward and cackled loud. “I knew it!” Dropping your head to his chest, you kicked your feet and whined. “Look at me,” he said after a breath, “Please.” Lifting your head reluctantly, bottom lip sticking out, he laughed at it and pushed it in with his thumb. “It’s okay,” he mumbled. “It’s a lot, I know.” 

“It’s just… June starts high school next year, she’s going to be fourteen in March. Aden’s in full blown elementary now, and next year Yuri moves up to his school with him.”

He listened to you, nodding along, a gentle smile on his lips.

“Everyone will be in school full time, they’re getting older, they’re going to have more things going on, June’s dance classes are going to get serious, Aden will be able to audition for that camp once he’s seven, Yuri will want to do god knows what and that’ll drain our bank accounts dry…” Glancing down between your bodies, you slid a hand over his chest and let the beating of his heart ease yours. “And, we’ll be here all alone.”

Releasing a breath, he leaned into you and pressed his lips to your cheek.

“With nothing to do but work,” you said, rocking with the pressure of his kisses, “And clean. And there’ll be a teenager. And our youngest will be old.” He trailed his lips down your neck, his speed slowing, his lips parting. Sighing, your eyes fluttered shut. “And, we want four.”

His warm breath tickled your skin, goosebumps erupting down your arms, your back. Arching into him, his touch, his delicious kisses, a soft sound came out with your breath, and he smiled. “Let’s do it then,” he whispered.

Tangling your fingers in the hair that hung at the nape of his neck, you sucked in a gust of air and tried to shake your head.

Yunho nipped at your neck, he kissed up your jaw, he planted a heavy wet kiss to your lips and groaned, palming at your hips, fingers pressing into your thighs. “Yes,” he whispered, the sound muffled by your lips, his tongue. You rolled your hips against him, both of you moaning at the friction.

Through shared air you breathed, “I need you.”

Licking his tongue over yours, he sighed. “I miss you.”

“Been too long.”

He nipped at your bottom lip, “Let me fuck you.”

Clawing at his shirt, you sighed, “Give me a baby.”

“Fuck,” he groaned, head tipping backward, new territory for your teeth to devour, “You mean it?”

Tongue dragging over his throat, you palmed his cheeks and looked into his caramel sweet eyes. “I mean it.” Melting into you, he swallowed you with a kiss, hands rushing to pull at the fabric hugging your hips, hugging your thighs, working them down. Pulling him away by his jaw, lips parting with an obscene smack, you laughed, your surprise evident. “Here?”

Smirking, he lowered his brows and eyed you like you were insane. “Here.”

Helping him work you out of your yoga pants, you lifted yourself off the counter quickly just to pop back down on the cool marble with a gasp. “Like we’re twenty-two,” you teased. 

Gripping onto your thighs, long fingers digging into your curves, pushing them apart, he caught your lips in a slow kiss, and before he dropped to his knees he muttered, “We were kinkier than this at twenty-two, baby.”

Lacing your fingers in his hair, giving his thick strands a tug, you tipped your head back as his hot breath fawned over your core, every muscle in your body relaxing, responding to him, his touch, his energy. “The couch… fuck,” he spread you open with his thumbs, tongue delicately dragging straight up your middle, “In your living room.”

He breathed through a laugh against you, the vibrations shooting up through your center. “Couldn’t explain that to my mom.”

“You made a mess,” you sighed, eyes wrenching shut, grinding against his tongue.

His hands wrapped around the underside of your hips, fingers pressing into your thighs, pulling you closer to him, on the edge of the marble. “You made the mess,” he purred, lips wrapping around your clit, sucking harshly before looking up at you, “I’ll never fucking forget that,” he mumbled.

“We can’t,” you giggled, looking down at him and his flushed cheeks, “That’s how we got June.” 

Smoothing his hands over your skin, relishing in how you clung onto him, he dipped his nose into your center and smized at how you shuddered. “Your dad hated me,” he whispered.

Lungs full of air, you wiggled your hips and shook your head with a breathless whisper, “Wonder why.” Yunho’s eyes softened almost enough to set you off, tears buried somewhere he had no problem pulling them out of. “Not the time for a history lesson,” you tried to laugh, pulling at his hair.

Pursing his lips, blowing a stream of cool air over your heat, admiring how you shook once more, he whispered, “Wanna cum?”

“With you.”

He huffed, shifting on his knees, propping himself up a little higher. His hands escaped your thighs, disappearing between you. “We’ve tried that before.”

“Doesn’t work,” you whispered, tugging him closer.

Tongue dragging over your center, he hummed, two fingers slipping into you, curving just right. “Doesn’t work,” he muttered, eyes pointing up toward you, “Someone’s too fuckin’ easy.”

With a harsh tug of his hair, you almost splayed yourself back across the counter. “Am… not,” you gasped with little self control, your body spreading open for him, reaching for him. 

Your body rocking once more, he sprung from his knees and wrapped an arm around your back, tangling his fingers in your hair, yanking your head backward. Fingers deep inside of you, curving upward with every sticky wet thrust, his thumb pressed to your clit, tight neat circles rendering your brain thoughtless.

Erasing the space between you, he caught your parted lips in a kiss. “Are too,” he whispered, pressing his forehead to yours, eyes locked on yours, on your lips, on how your brows twisted with euphoria. “And you like it,” he breathed, the pace of his fingers pushing into you growing faster as your grip on him grew tighter. “Or, do I just know how to work you… Every right way to touch you, to make you feel good, to make you… sound like this.”

Clamping your jaw shut, pushing air through your nose, you popped your eyes open wide, not even realizing how loud you already were.

Yunho pursed his lips, clicking his tongue, his brows flipping over. “No, baby, keep going,” he whispered with a twist of his fingers, his tongue lobbing out with how you arched into him, “Sound so pretty, let me hear you, haven’t heard you in so long, tell me how good you feel…”

“So good,” you whined, head lulling backward into his hand, “So good… But-”

He pointed his brows, watching your eyes flutter shut. “But, what?”

Grabbing fistfuls of his shirt, the fabric bunching up, wrinkling in your sweaty palms, you whispered, “Want you, inside, want you.”

Smirking, he shook his head once, muttering, “Such a cockslut.”

You whimpered, nails digging into his shoulders. “For you. For you.”

Letting go of your hair, he slid his arm around your neck completely, dropping you down into the nook of his elbow. Curving his hand around, he grabbed onto your throat and leaned over you, resting his elbow on the marble, trapping you on top of the counter. 

“So I’m right then,” he laughed, eyes narrowing, focused on your pleasure entirely, “You’re easy… For me. Can make you cum as many times as I want, and you’ll let me. Look at where you’re letting me have you, in the middle of the kitchen, door unlocked, windows open. What happens when the doorbell rings, huh?”

You shook your head, or tried to in his grip. 

His smirk grew, the snap of his fingers faster, and faster. He could feel it with how you tried to clamp yourself around him, muscles tightening, your walls fluttering around his fingers. Broken obscenities filled the air, the choked out moans coming out of you something unfamiliar as of late, the sound alone spurring you on, the pressure building in your center.

“Yunho,” you gasped, and his lips curled, his forehead resting to yours.

His fingers loosened around your throat as he whispered, “I know, baby.” Curling his fingers one more time, you thrashed with a cry. Screwing up his brows, he moaned, “Oh, I know. Take it. Let me give it to you, please. Let me make you cum, I want it. Doing so good for me, fuck. Cum for me and I promise I’ll fill you up, I promise, please.”

Vision searing white, arching into him, feeling him loosen his grip on you to allow you to cling to him freely, pulling him into you like his presence alone pushed you over the edge, your mouth dropped open in silence. Yunho’s groan slid down your throat, his lips pushed wet kisses to your cheek, he smiled as you trembled beneath him.

“Good fuckin’ girl,” he mumbled, slipping his fingers out of you slowly. Barely giving you time to catch your breath, he had his arms around your waist, pulling you off the counter. Lips locking, he stumbled for the couch and flopped down, straddling you across his waist.

Fingers digging into his hair that had gone frizzy, you let out a soft whimper and shook your head. “I can’t,” you whispered, deadweight on top of him, the muscles in your hips, your thighs, done for. 

Nipping at your lips, catching them with a kiss, he pushed his pants off himself and growled, “You don’t have to.” Taking you by the hips, he lifted you up and pushed himself inside of you, letting you go, allowing you to sink down onto his hips at your own pace. 

The stretch of him, overwhelming.

Air pushing out of your lungs, you curled both arms around his neck and pressed your nose to his cheek. Squeezing him tight, he grabbed onto your hips and rocked you.

“Deep breath,” he whispered, lips brushing your cheek. He waited until you listened, a shaky gust of air taken in quickly through your nose, abruptly pushed through your lips. “I don’t have long,” he mumbled, and you smiled, pushing down on top of him.

“Don’t care,” you sighed, giving him a heavy kiss, “Make me a mommy.”

He thrust up into you with a quiet, “Fuck.” Grasping your waist, he flipped you over, pinning you to the cushions. Holding your legs open with his knees, he took his hands to your ankles and pushed you further back. “I would, every time, if you asked.”

Snapping his hips against yours, it took two thrusts for him to topple over you, letting go of your ankles, grabbing onto the back of the couch. Through groans, needy moans, a desperation filled the air, a patheticness hanging in the heat, the sweat, not needing to hide, no need to silence yourselves. 

“God,” his groan needy. Wrapping one hand around your jaw he clamped your head back, keeping your eyes locked, your lips bumping with every quick snap of his hips. “When’s the last time we fucked?” Babbling mindlessly, unable to form proper words to answer him, Yunho smiled, his short pants fanning over the gleam of your skin. “Gonna fill you up,” his voice low, tickling your skin, “Fuckin’ you so deep, shit, pussy so good, gonna cum inside.”

“I want it,” you gasped, eyes fluttering shut, body going lax. His hold on you, his body on top of you, your inability to move, his strength, every insatiable snap of his hips, his words. Whispers of the high that never left you, that he never gave you time to work through, came back, spiraling you headfirst into another.

Hissing as you squeezed him, as you begged him through whines to fill you, to claim you, to breed you, to make a mess of you, to promise to always ruin you, he pressed down on your throat and moaned, a desperate mess, sweat beading on his forehead, the couch creaking beneath you, sliding on the hardwood floor. No control left, he pushed into you to the hilt, stretching your hips open. Groaning through his teeth, he pressed his thumb to your clit, no mercy to spare, the speed at which he made you cum again unforgivable as he spilled into you. 

Parted lips ghosting his, writhing beneath him, every tiny thrust into you as he came plunged you into overstim. Broken grunts, pathetic whimpers, you folded into one another, bodies buzzing, any word either of you could ever say, an afterthought. 

You couldn’t move. 

You didn’t want to move. 

Even as he softened within you, as your breathing attempted to return to normal, you didn’t want to move. In this moment he was yours. You were his. 

Picking his head up, feeling his body shake, he kissed your temple, whispering, “I love you.”

Gazing up at him, the hair sticking to his forehead, his flushed cheeks, his fucked out eyes, you whispered, “I love you.”

Parting his lips to say something else, he was cut off by a cell phone, the ringtone unmistakeable. Body tensing, soreness erupting everywhere as you tried to spring up, Yunho pushed you back gently and kissed your forehead. He unfortunately slipped out of you and stood up. 

“Stay here,” he said softly, reaching for his pants, jumping into them as he stumbled through the living room. The source of the Huntr/x song, your phone that sat on the ottoman in front of the lounge chair. Picking it up, taking a deep breath, he answered, “Hi Junie… No, sweetie, we’re still here… It’s okay, you did the right thing, what happened?... They… They did?” 

He glanced at you, his brows flattening. Sitting up, you went to stand up and he pointed a finger at you, making you sink back on the cushion. 

“You’re not in trouble for yelling at them, you stood up for your brother, we’re proud of you. Is Aden okay?” He rolled his eyes with a laugh. “Of course he called them that… Okay, I’ll be right there… Keep walking… Don’t let Aden throw any punches… Bye, sweetie.”

He dropped your phone back on the chair and brushed a hand over his face.

“What happened?” you asked, eyes following him as he started for the kitchen.

Scooping your pants from the floor beneath the island, he tossed them over to you and sighed, making his way behind the couch. “Hongjoong’s boys,” he mumbled, leaning over to give you a kiss. “They’re making fun of Aden again.” 

Sliding the cotton up your legs, you tried to leap off the sofa, but he pinned you back down. “Those motherfuckers, I’ll fuck H up, I’ll-”

“Easy, mama bear,” he laughed, kissing you one more time. “I got this. Joong will hear from me. I promise.”

Twisting on the couch as he walked toward the front door, you shouted, “Promise?”

He shot you a grin. “He’ll feel your wrath,” he said, dramatically. Then, he nodded at the couch and gave you a look. “Lay down and put your feet up, baby.”

Your heart went warm. “Oh, he’s serious,” you wiggled your brows.

Stepping into his shoes, he shot you a silly glare. “So are you. When I come back, I’ll do it again.”

“Promise?”

“Promise.”

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You’re already half asleep when you feel Adrian joining you in bed, the mattress giving in to his weight behind you. An arm wraps around your waist as he pulls you close and you’re so tired that you immediately comply, scooting closer until your back is fully pressed against his chest. 

It’s just innocent spooning at first, his touch so comforting that it only contributes to your growing relaxation. You feel a soft kiss against your bare shoulder, which makes you sigh just enough. The mixture of exhaustion and comfort only helps to make you fall asleep even faster, but just as you’re starting to drift off, you feel him grind his hips against your ass. Slow and tentative, before he does it again with just a little more intent.

“Adrian…” you whisper, trying to ignore how he pulls you even closer.

“Hmm?” he asks, as if he has no idea what he's doing.

You're too tired to do much, allowing Adrian to rub his cock against you a few more times, one of his hands sliding up your torso to grope one of your breasts through your shirt, his nose nuzzling in your neck.

“I’m really tired,” you mutter, eyes closed and back slightly arched, trying to keep your sounds minimal because despite how badly you want to sleep, it’s impossible not to react to what he’s doing.

“I’ll be super quick, babe. I promise.” His voice is so incredibly soft, a hint of desperation evident in his tone. Like he might lose his mind if you were to say no to him now.

You groan, a weak attempt to show any sign of protest. “It’s been a very long day.”

“I know. That’s exactly why I need you so badly right now. Please– I’ll make you feel really good…”

Fuck. It’s as if every attempt at building up some sort of resistance comes crumbling down as soon as he says that. And it’s especially difficult to say no to him under the current circumstances, because his words are punctuated by another agonizingly slow roll of his hips that has you responding to him almost immediately.

“Okay…quick,” you eventually say, agreeing under the condition of this lasting the least amount of time possible so you could go to sleep.

“Extremely quick,” he immediately corrects you, followed by a sigh of relief. “Thank you. I just really need–” The sound he lets out against your skin when he presses harder against you sends a shiver down your spine, your body moving against his in response. “I just really needed this. It’s been a very stressful day.” 

It doesn’t take much more than that before his grinding becomes more urgent. Breathy moans escape him with each roll of his hips, keeping you glued to his body with both of his arms tightly wrapped around you. The hand at your chest keeps groping your skin as he pleases, occasionally pinching your hard nipples in an effort to gain a reaction from you. 

Despite the exhaustion, you can’t bring yourself to stop. His erection presses against you in the most mind-numbing way, as if the barrier of clothing between you doesn’t even exist.  Desperate for more, your hand grips one of his wrists, guiding him closer to the front of your shorts. He complies immediately with your silent request, hand slipping under your clothes. The sensation of his finger rubbing lazy circles above your clit almost makes you tremble in his arms, eliciting a deep moan from you that only encourages him to continue.

“I love you,” he whispers, hot breath hitting the back of your neck. “Did you know that? How much I love you? I love all of you. Your voice, and your body, and the fact that you always laugh at my jokes, and how smart you are, and– fuck, I love those sounds you make too…care to give me more?” The request alone makes you moan again, grinding softly against his hand as he keeps pleasuring you. “Thank you– I’m so hard right now, it’s actually insane.”

He doesn’t need to point it out loud for you to realize. You're painfully aware of how turned on he is– you can feel it perfectly. The weird in-between you are right now, partially asleep but partially not, is only making your body more receptive and reactive to every single one of his movements. Like you’re reduced to your most basic of instincts, sensitivity pushed to the max.

“Babe– you're so wet, holy shit. I've barely done anything and you're a goddamn mess already.” He sounds so eager, almost proud of himself. 

You find yourself clenching around nothing when you notice the increasing speed in which he moves his digits against your clit. The side of your face still rests comfortably against the pillow and your eyes remain closed at all times. Your peaceful breathing is only interrupted by the little sounds you make due to the way he's treating your body.

With an already heightened sensitivity and the desperate movements of his fingers, it was only a matter of time before Adrian managed to draw the first orgasm out of you. It hits almost unexpectedly, your legs trembling just enough and your walls inevitably clenching once more, your body aching to be consumed by him over and over until he’s taken absolutely everything you have to give.

“Oh, I absolutely love that too,” he mutters with a soft laugh, pressing his lips to the side of your neck. “You're perfect. Beautiful. Wouldn't change a single thing about you. Most awesome girlfriend ever…”

His constant praise only makes your situation worse, barely having any time to recover from your high before your body is seemingly starting to prepare for another pleasurable wreck to overtake your senses. If he noticed your delicate state, he doesn't seem to care in the slightest. If anything, he seems determined to get as many orgasms out of you as possible, seemingly obsessed with the level of control he has over your body right now.

His movements only slow down a little when your hand lazily wraps around his wrist again as a silent hint to let him know that it's becoming too much for your body to handle. The gesture makes him groan against your neck, evidently frustrated, but he complies.

To distract himself, he starts kissing the side of your neck once more. The low, throaty sounds of appreciation that erupt from him from time to time make your head spin, finding it almost impossible not to physically react to them. 

“You know, I really don’t think I can cut this short now,” he mutters, only half-apologetic by the fact that he’s no longer able to keep his initial promise. 

You sigh, getting more comfortable in his arms. “Okay…”

“Okay?”

“Don’t cut it short,” you offer back to him in a soft voice. Your brain barely even registers the words leaving your mouth, uncertain if you're actually saying them out loud or if they're just echoing inside your head. “Fuck me all night if you want.”

“Shit.” The broken reply brings the hint of a smile to your lips, because you know the effect it has on him. You’re not nearly as much of a talker as he is when it comes to moments like this, so when you do say things like that to him, it makes his brain short circuit. “I might take you up on that offer.”

His mouth latches to your neck, sucking gently on a spot that makes you grab his wrist again, but this time you’re actually urging him to move his fingers faster. “Yes, please.”

That plea awakens something in him, starting to pleasure you with his fingers at a speed that has you audibly moaning, your body not prepared for the intensity of his movements in the slightest. 

When he slides his fingers in you, your back arches almost immediately, hearing him moan in appreciation when he notices you’re unable to stay still due to what he’s doing to you. The sounds created by his ministrations are down-right sinful, another testament of just how reactive your body can be in this sleepy state. “That’s it. That’s exactly how I want you. So pretty, and gorgeous, and mine– oh, I love you so fucking much…”

It doesn’t take too long for him to make you cum again. There’s no chance you would’ve been able to fight against the insane amount of pleasure provided to your body in the form of intentional touches and verbal adoration for much longer. He savors it all, every little tremble and gasp, humming against your shoulder as he feels you squirming in his embrace.

Adrian does give you some time to recover now, going back to rubbing lazy circles over your clit because there’s no way he’s going to stop touching you completely. Even in your tired state, you reach for him in the dark, fingers tangling in his curls as you turn your head enough for him to be able to kiss you if he wanted to. It barely takes a few seconds before his mouth is on yours, tongues meeting almost immediately, bringing more sounds from both of you. 

Still devouring your mouth, hot and heavy, you feel him releasing your body from his grip to try to remove his boxers with one hand, the task proving to be a little more difficult than he anticipated in this particular position. “I’m sorry. Let me– uh…almost there. Sorry.” 

The annoyance in his tone makes you giggle softly. “You can use both hands, you know?”

“Yeah, I know, but one’s taking care of some very important business and I don’t want to– fuck, okay. Wait. Just a sec.”

Hand sliding off your shorts, he hurriedly removes the item of clothing, finally able to take it off. “There,” he says in a rushed whisper, watching curiously as you move away from him in order to roll onto your back. “What are you doing?”

“I want you on top,” you reply, lazily sliding your shorts down your legs.

“Oh– yeah, of course.” Adrian complies almost immediately, crawling on top of you just as you’re spreading your legs for him. “Anything you want,” he lowers himself above you, arms at each side of your head to keep his weight from crushing you. “Anything for you.”

His mouth meets yours again in a slow, passionate kiss. It completely muffles the low moan he offers you when the tip of his cock is pressing against your entrance, the slick from your two previous orgasms helping for him to slide right in until you’re absolutely full of him.

You keep both hands at each side of his torso, accepting his tongue into your mouth as he begins moving. He thrusts in and out of you so incredibly slow, it’s almost torture, dragging a series of needy sound from him that die inside your mouth. 

It's passionate and absolutely soul-crushing, and the fact that you're still somewhat in this weird limbo between consciousness and sleep somehow heightens everything– every move of his mouth against yours and every sensual roll of his hips. Your brain can't quite process what he’s doing or the sounds he's making, but you feel it, and it feels incredible.

Adrian eventually breaks the kiss, mouth pressing to your jaw before it finds your neck again. He leaves kisses all over your skin, not wanting to leave any inch unloved. “This is hands down the best part of my day,” he whispers, hips still moving intentionally as he makes love to you. “Just being able to touch you…kiss you…be with you. Nothing can compare to this.”

His words hit you like a crashwave, letting out the softest little moan in response, too comfortable with the warmth of his body pressed up against yours and your head resting on a comfy pillow to do much else. 

“I know you’re tired, so you don’t have to– don’t have to do a thing,” he continues, voice strangled just enough because the feeling of you wrapped around him is becoming a little too much for him to handle. “I will take care of you, okay? Just– relax.”

And you do just that. You lean back against the pillows, taking every thrust he’s offering you and accepting each kiss he’s leaving on your skin. The slow pace is proving to be both incredible and life-threatening, because you can hear the desperation in each sound that he lets out. Like he’s never experienced anything that has felt this good in his entire life, but it’s also about to make him lose every last bit of sanity because it’s taking everything in him not to seek his orgasm as fast as possible– a constant battle between wanting to make this last and just letting go immediately.

It’s like he wasn’t even expecting you to reach another climax, so when your body is inevitably giving in to the overwhelming amount of sensations, he’s almost trembling above you. “Babe, you’re– you’re squeezing the living shit out of me, fuck. Like, not to be dramatic or anything, but I would die for you. I would kill for you. I would– I would do whatever the fuck you wanted me to do if it means…having you like this every single day. Like, I’m not– you’re the best thing that’s ever happened to me. I’ll marry the fuck out of you some day and we’ll– I’ll fuck you juuuust like this anytime you want. Just say the word and I’ll– oh, you feel so fucking good…”

He’s audibly whimpering every time he feels you clenching around him. Your body is already so sensitive and exhausted, it reacts to his movements in a way that leaves him on the verge of tears at this point. He seeks comfort in the form of a messy kiss, knowing damn well he won’t be able to hold back for much longer when you’re absolutely dripping all over his cock and taking him so heavenly good it hurts.

With another broken cry, he’s spilling inside you with an intensity and desperation that has you audibly whimpering in return, feeling him twitch with each load he releases deep within your walls. “I love you,” he whispers against your mouth.

“I love you too, baby.”

Your reply makes him twitch one again. “Oh, fuck– I’m yours forever, I swear. You know that, right?” His voice is rushed and painful, continuing to ramble as he offers you his last few thrusts. “You know how much you mean to me? Because I’m fully aware that I say it a lot, but I don’t think you understand. I’m obsessed with you, I’m– you’re everything to me.”

His movements eventually come to a stop, taking him a few seconds to gather his thoughts and his breath before he’s doing anything. Only when he’s recovered enough, he’s finally daring to slide out of you, earning a soft moan in response.

The mess left on the sheets is probably diabolical, but you really couldn’t care too much about that when you’re rolling to your side again, clearly intending to find a comfortable position to sleep in. Even with your heartbeat still racing, you know for a fact it wouldn’t be difficult to drift off entirely in a matter of minutes– especially after the extra incentive that certainly brings a whole new level of exhaustion.

y/n sank to her knees, blinking up at the tangled mess of metal, screws, and vaguely threatening wooden panels strewn across her bedroom floor. The instruction manual lay open beside her, a small, innocuous stack of papers that might as well have been written in hieroglyphics. Wasabi, her black German shepherd, sprawled at the foot of the mattress she’d been sleeping on for the last month, tail thumping faintly against the floor as if marking time in solidarity. A faint, upbeat pop playlist drifted from her speaker, the spring breeze drifting lazily through the open window, carrying the scent of fresh grass and distant blooms.

It had been a month of mattress-on-the-floor existence. Tight budget, too many bills, and the stubborn pride that had kept her from asking anyone for help—or from buying the bedframe she now owned. But finally, a Saturday with nothing to do: no work, no responsibilities, no emails, no social obligations—just y/n, her music, her dog, and a bedframe waiting to be built. It should have been simple. Peaceful. Calm.

Except it wasn’t.

She groaned, attempting once again to wedge a metal rail into a wooden slot that clearly didn’t want to cooperate. Her hands shook slightly from the effort, and the cold water bottle on the floor beside her offered silent encouragement—half-empty, neglected, patient. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, “I can do this. How hard can it be?”

The answer, as it turned out, was very hard.

y/n had been too confident to follow the instructions. Manuals were for the timid, for people who wanted to do things by the book. She, on the other hand, had instincts. And instincts, apparently, were now conspiring against her. Screws rolled away in tiny metallic arcs, panels stubbornly refused to line up, and at one point she swore she heard the bed muttering passive-aggressive complaints in her direction.

She slammed a panel down with a huff, hands curling into fists. “Okay, maybe… maybe I do need help,” she admitted aloud, more to Wasabi than anyone else. The dog’s ears twitched but he didn’t look up, utterly unimpressed by her domestic struggle.

Her phone buzzed beside the water bottle. A text from Yunho, her closest friend. 

“Saturday plans?”

She stared at it for a long beat, resisting the urge to roll her eyes and curse at the universe for perfect timing. Yunho—tall, impossibly handsome, quietly magnetic, nerdy as hell—was the kind of person who made you want to spill secrets you didn’t even know you had. And she did know she wanted help. His kind of help.

Smirking, she typed back: 

“Actually… yeah. I could use a hand with something.”

And just like that, her serene Saturday teetered on the edge of chaos—and something far, far more dangerous.

y/n groaned again, yanking a stubborn metal beam into place only to have it slip again, clanging against the floor with a sound that made her teeth grind. She flopped back onto the floor for a moment, letting out a dramatic sigh that probably registered as theatrical despair to anyone passing by.

Her phone buzzed. She snatched it up, heart doing a tiny skip when she saw Yunho’s message: 

“I’ll be there in 30.”

Thirty minutes. Thirty minutes to keep herself from losing her mind, thirty minutes to stop the bed from winning, and thirty minutes for Wasabi to continue his silent mockery. The black German shepherd lifted his head lazily and gave a slow blink, tail wagging just enough to feel like a smirk. 

Her music, once a cheerful soundtrack to a productive morning, had turned into a relentless background hum, driving her further toward frustration. She swatted at the speaker like it had personally betrayed her.

Her tank top strap had started its own rebellion, constantly sliding down her shoulder. She yanked it up again, muttering, “Stop it! Behave!” Her hair, twisted up in a claw clip, had gone rogue too; a few rebellious strands framed her face, sticking to her damp skin. Her oversized jeans slid down just enough to settle comfortably on her hips, the rough fabric bunching awkwardly, while her bare feet shifted against the hardwood. She was sweating slightly from effort, skin warm and flushed, completely natural, completely raw—no bra, no makeup, just her and the domestic chaos around her.

She sighed, rolling her shoulders. Thirty minutes. Plenty of time to drive herself insane, to curse at screws, and to start considering whether sleeping on the floor wasn’t so bad after all. Wasabi yawned, stretching beside her, practically judging her flailing arms with every movement. y/n gave a rueful grin. Yeah, yeah… I know.

y/n groaned for the third time, yanking uselessly at the stubborn metal rail, when a sharp knock at the front door made her freeze mid-motion. Her feet slid across the hardwood as she pushed herself up, brushing at her sweat-damp hair. Frustrated, tired, and thoroughly defeated, she shuffled to the door, trying to ignore the ache in her arms and the sharp annoyance of a strap that had once again betrayed her.

She opened it.

Yunho stood there, as impossibly perfect as ever, framed in the doorway like he belonged in some effortlessly handsome poster for “Nerdy Boyfriend of Your Dreams.” His blue-and-white plaid shirt was casually untucked over wide jeans, glasses perched just right, and a six-pack held in one hand. His eyes met hers, and he smiled softly, lifting the beers in a quiet, almost shy gesture. “I thought we might need these…”

y/n blinked, momentarily speechless. Then she laughed, taking the beers from him, opening the door wider. “You know me too well,” she said, stepping aside to let him in.

He removed his shoes, following her around her apartment with the careful, almost puppy-like attentiveness she’d come to adore. She settled the beers in the fridge and turned to him, offering, “Want something to drink?”

“Water’s fine,” he said simply, his voice soft, calm—but she noticed the faint flush creeping up his neck anyway.

She handed him a cold glass, and he accepted it with a grateful smile, taking a small sip before asking, “So… what do you need help with?”

y/n’s cheeks flushed, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She tilted her head toward the bedroom, voice barely above a whisper. “The bedframe…” Her fingers absently brushed a stray strand of hair from her face as she led him forward.

Yunho froze at the threshold. The scene before him looked less like a bedroom and more like a covert operation gone sideways: the mattress lay abandoned on the floor, metal rails and screws scattered like clues across the hardwood, sheets and pillows piled haphazardly in the corner, and the instruction manual spread open as if daring them to solve the mystery. Wasabi perched on the edge of the mattress, eyes narrow, silently judging their every move.

He hesitated for a beat, almost like he’d stepped into a place he wasn’t meant to see. He’d been countless times to her apartment, but never into her bedroom. Part of him felt like he was intruding, like some unspoken boundary had been crossed.

But y/n’s gaze met his, playful and expectant, and the nervous tension dissolved into purpose. She needed his help. And he would do anything for her.

“Okay,” he said finally, setting his glass down and rolling up his sleeves. The nervous flush lingered across his cheeks, but his hands were steady, precise, ready to tackle whatever she needed. “Let’s fix this.”

y/n stepped back to give Yunho some space, letting him take the lead. “Alright,” she said, smirking, “I trust you. I bow to your superior… screw-fitting skills.”

He adjusted his glasses, the faintest pink tinting his cheeks, and cleared his throat. “Well… it’s not that complicated, but, um, it’s easier if we follow the steps in order.” 

Yunho knelt on the floor, carefully aligning the metal rail with the wooden slot. y/n crouched beside him, stretching her arms over his to help guide the piece, letting her body brush against his just a little longer than necessary each time.

She let her hand linger on his forearm under the guise of helping him steady the rail, tracing a slow, deliberate line over his sleeve. Every small contact made him stiffen, and she suppressed a soft laugh at the way his jaw tensed, the faint flush rising at the base of his neck.

Leaning closer under the pretense of reading the instructions, she let the subtle warmth of her side press against his, shoulders brushing, her hair occasionally falling against the back of his neck. Each touch was casual—or at least it looked casual—but she knew exactly the effect it had.

“Careful there,” she murmured softly, her fingers brushing over the edge of his hand as she helped guide the rail into place. Yunho’s hands jerked slightly at her touch, and she allowed herself a small, secretive smirk.

Every time he tried to concentrate on the metal and screws, she found a way to make him notice her presence—slight brushes, subtle shifts of her body, the faint heat of her hair against his arm. She thrived on it, watching him fight to stay composed, knowing he couldn’t resist her closeness.

“Almost got it…” Yunho muttered, swallowing hard, trying to keep his focus, but his eyes kept flicking to her. y/n’s lips twitched as she leaned just a fraction closer, letting the subtle pressure of her body make him acutely aware of every touch.

Even amidst the chaos of screws and scattered metal, the playful tension hung between them, deliberate, teasing, and entirely electric.

Wasabi lay at the edge of the mattress, head resting on his paws, eyes half-lidded, clearly judging their every movement with quiet amusement. The music from earlier had long been forgotten; all that remained was the rhythmic clinking of metal, their quiet breaths, and the soft scrape of tools against wood.

y/n tipped her water bottle to take a sip, careful, deliberate. A few drops of condensation slid down her chin and landed teasingly against the curve of her breast. She froze for a heartbeat, noticing Yunho’s eyes flick up, lingering just a fraction longer than necessary. He cleared his throat, low and deliberate, twisting the screw with exaggerated effort as if the stubborn metal demanded all his focus.

“You okay there?” y/n asked, her voice light, teasing. A faint heat crept up her neck as she let her tone carry just enough to make him question whether she was serious.

“Yeah… just… this screw,” he murmured, voice tight, almost strained. “It’s… stubborn.” His hands moved with practiced precision, but his eyes betrayed him, tracing the tiny drops that had escaped her bottle. He wasn’t looking for more than a glimpse—he told himself—but even that small glance made his chest twist with heat.

y/n’s lips curved into a faint, knowing smirk. She set her water bottle down with deliberate slowness, letting the faint clink of it against the hardwood punctuate the moment. She swiped the next page of the manual, as if searching for the next instruction.

Her fingers lingered on the paper just a beat longer than necessary. A casual adjustment, nothing more… yet every subtle movement kept him hyper-aware of her presence, the heat of her shoulder brushing his, the faint scent of shampoo lingering in the warm air.

“I feel like,” y/n murmured, eyes on the screws but a faint smirk on her lips, “sometimes it takes a little patience… and the right angle… to make it fit.”

She let the words hang for a beat, then added with a soft chuckle, “I mean, really, who knew furniture could be this hard?”

Yunho’s fingers stiffened around the screw, his pulse skipping. He swallowed, trying to convince himself she was only talking about the rail—but the way her words had landed, and the soft warmth of her arm brushing his shoulder, made it impossible.

“Uh… yeah,” he muttered, voice tight, “it really… needs precision.”

y/n leaned closer, adjusting the rail, her side brushing his. Her arm nudged his shoulder again under the guise of helping, and she caught the subtle stiffening of his muscles. A soft, barely-there laugh escaped her.

“You’re awfully quiet for someone struggling with screws,” she murmured, smirk lingering, though her tone remained casual. “Do I make you… nervous?”

His ears flushed red, hands fumbling slightly. “I—uh—no,” he stammered, eyes darting to the screws and back to her.

She hummed, tilting her head so a stray lock of hair brushed his arm. “Hmm, sure you’re not distracted?” she asked lightly, letting the teasing hang between them. “We wouldn’t want you losing your grip… or your focus.”

“Careful,” Yunho said softly, trying to maintain composure, “we don’t want to—uh—strip this one.”

“Mm,” y/n murmured, letting her fingers linger just a heartbeat longer than necessary on his arm. “Of course not.”

The room felt warmer somehow. Metal, sweat, and the subtle, unspoken tension between them mingled, every shift of her body a reminder of how close they were. Even Wasabi lifted his head, tail wagging slowly, as if sensing the tension without knowing why.

A short while later, the chaos was finally tamed. The bedframe stood complete, sturdy and perfect, and y/n couldn’t resist collapsing onto the matress—this time flopping onto her stomach with a dramatic sigh of relief. Her arms were stretched above her head, her cheek resting against the mattress, and the softness beneath her was a welcome contrast to the hardwood she’d endured for weeks.

She lifted her head just enough to glance at Yunho, who was kneeling on the floor, carefully collecting screws and tools. Even in this simple act, he looked impossibly delicate, brows furrowed in concentration, lips pressed into a thin line as if the world outside this room didn’t exist.

Her eyes traced the line of his broad shoulders tapering down to the strong sweep of his back, the way his tall, lean frame seemed even more impressive from this kneeling angle. The curve of his neck, the gentle flex of muscles as he shifted to reach a stray screw—everything about him made her pulse quicken.

There was something about him like this—normally tall, broad, and so commanding—but now on his knees, leaning just slightly toward her space, that made her chest tighten. 

His usual confidence had softened into a careful attentiveness, a kind of quiet deference, and she could feel the subtle pull of it, the way his body language seemed to silently wait for her approval. Every glance he cast at her, every small shift he made to accommodate her reach, spoke volumes of a man entirely aware of her presence, his usual dominance tucked away, leaving him achingly attentive, almost… helpless in the most endearing way.

“Thanks,” she murmured softly, letting the word linger, casual yet intimate.

Yunho’s head snapped up, eyes catching hers immediately. He froze for a heartbeat, his gaze involuntarily tracing the gentle curve of her back, the line of her waist, the subtle sway of her hips as she stretched out on the mattress. The light falling through the window highlighted the soft rise of her ass against the bed, and his throat went dry before he could remind himself to look away.

Her feet dangled slightly over the edge, relaxed and bare. y/n’s lips tugged into a faint, teasing smile, almost like she knew exactly what he was seeing—and exactly how he was feeling. The room suddenly felt smaller, charged, intimate, every quiet motion amplified.

y/n let out a soft laugh, smirking lightly at Yunho’s silent, careful movements. “You know,” she said, her voice teasing, “I didn’t expect such dedication for just… screws and metal.”

She lifted her upper body onto her elbows, resting her chin in the palm of her hand, elbow perched firmly on the mattress. Her gaze softened, eyes warm and playful, but the faint dance of her bare feet against the edge of the bed betrayed a nervous energy—anticipation, mischief, and just a touch of impatience.

“I think… we should celebrate,” she added, tilting her head slightly. “Takeout, my treat. As a thank-you for… all of this.” She gestured vaguely at the neatly stacked tools, cardboard scraps, protective foam, and empty plastic bags Yunho had spent the last few minutes carefully clearing away.

Yunho paused for a moment, his eyes flicked up at hers, a faint blush brushing his cheeks, and he nodded once, just enough to acknowledge her offer without breaking the quiet, attentive energy he always carried around her. Lips parting slightly before a soft, a nervous “Okay” slipped out.

y/n’s smile widened. Perfect. He was always so precise, so careful—and yet so vulnerable, especially in private moments like this. The contrast between his meticulous control and the subtle tremor in his movements when she teased him never failed to make her smile.

“Great,” she said lightly, pushing herself up fully now, sitting on the edge of the mattress. “I’ll order. You—keep your hands busy, Mister Neat Freak.” He chuckled softly, eyes crinkling at the corners, and set down the last stray piece of protective foam. 

y/n pushed herself off the mattress, stretching her arms overhead before disappearing from the bedroom, leaving Yunho alone with the last bits of chaos. He gathered the mess into a large garbage bag, hands careful and deliberate, taking a quiet breath as Wasabi lifted his head to watch.

The black German shepherd tilted his head, letting out a low, teasing pant as if daring him. Yunho’s lips twitched into a nervous smile. “Hey… I’m not the one whose human leaves chaos everywhere,” he murmured, voice soft, almost conspiratorial. The dog’s ears flicked, tail wagging slowly in apparent amusement.

“Yeah?” Yunho continued, crouching closer, eyes glancing toward the empty corridor for a brief second. “Well, maybe if she actually taught you some discipline, we’d be done faster… or maybe I just like getting stuck with this mess.”

Wasabi let out a playful bark, stepping forward as if to challenge him, and Yunho leaned back slightly, hands on his knees. “Okay, okay, I surrender,” he murmured, mock-exasperated, a hint of a grin tugging at his lips. The quiet room was suddenly alive with the comical duel between man and dog, soft laughter hiding behind careful composure.

Minutes later, the rustle of footsteps signaled y/n’s return. She appeared just as Yunho knelt to tie a knot in the now-full garbage bag, holding two beers in her hands. “Here,” she said, offering one to him while taking the bag from his hands with a simple, teasing, “Let me take care of that.”

They clinked the bottles softly, tilting their heads to sip, the warmth of the spring weather drifting in through the open windows making the cold beer feel even more refreshing—and somehow hotter, the physical exertion of building furniture leaving a subtle sheen on their skin.

y/n wandered toward the door with the bag, placing it there as a casual reminder to take out later. Yunho settled comfortably on the couch, legs stretched, his usual quiet, confident ease settling over him. He’d been here a thousand times, but moments like these—alone with her, small domestic tasks complete—made him feel like a silent part of her world.

y/n returned to the living room, a mischievous smile tugging at her lips as she approached the TV cabinet. She pulled out her latest video game purchase, dangling it teasingly in front of her like a prize. Her eyes sparkled with playful challenge as she looked at him.

“Want to try it out?” she asked, voice mock-innocent but full of daring, letting the competitive edge shine through. She swayed it slightly in her hand, letting the teasing energy hang between them. Yunho’s heart stuttered, the combination of her proximity, the playful challenge, and the subtle warmth still lingering from their shared work making him shift slightly on the couch, nerves and anticipation prickling through him.

By the fourth round, the coffee table was littered with the remnants of takeout—empty containers, crumpled napkins—and the faint clink of emptied beer bottles that had gone warm too quickly. The sun had long since set, and the sky outside the window was now a deep indigo, streaked with the first hints of night. A couple of lamps cast a warm, orange glow across the living room, softening the edges of the chaos around them and making the space feel smaller, cozier, and impossibly intimate.

They were laying on the couch, controllers in hand, knees brushing against each other as they hunched over the screen. Their eyes were locked on the game, expressions tight, brows furrowed with concentration. The soft ambient light made every flicker of emotion on his face more noticeable—the way his jaw tensed, the subtle twitch of his lips when he was ahead, the small, nervous laugh that always escaped him when things got tense.

The first three rounds had gone in his favor, Yunho’s precise timing and nerdy nature giving him a clear advantage. y/n had started the evening with a confident smirk, playful teasing, but now the simmer of frustration was rising. Her competitive streak, usually so controlled, was bubbling to the surface.

But at the end of the day, it was Yunho. Even when she wanted to groan and throw her controller across the room, she couldn’t stay truly mad—he was just… him. Patient, careful, nerdy, and utterly magnetic.

A mischievous spark lit in y/n’s chest. If she couldn’t beat him fair and square… well, she could certainly cheat. Just a little.

She shifted slightly on the couch, knees folding under her as she leaned closer, pretending to focus on the screen. Her shoulder brushed his, light and accidental. Once, twice. The third time, it lingered.

Yunho’s eyes darted to the side, then back to the screen, jaw tight with concentration. “Don’t,” he warned under his breath, voice low and strained.

y/n hummed, feigning innocence. “Don’t what?”

He swallowed, trying to keep his eyes on the flashing colors in front of him, his fingers tight around the controller. “You know what you’re doing.”

“I don’t,” she teased quietly, her hair brushing his arm as she leaned closer. The scent of her shampoo—something faintly citrus and clean—mingled with the warmth of her skin and the faint trace of beer in the air.

“Right,” he said, words clipped, his jaw tightening again. The tips of his ears had started to pink.

He tried to focus. He really did. But the game’s rhythm faltered under the weight of her closeness, of the soft laughter slipping past her lips every time his character stumbled. The kind that made the corner of his mouth twitch in frustration.

Then, with deliberate slowness, her fingers brushed against the back of his hand—barely a touch, but enough to make him flinch, the controller slipping in his grasp.

“Shit—!” he hissed as his combo broke, the screen flashing his defeat.

y/n leaned back, controller loose in her hands, a proud, small smile curving her mouth as her victory flashed on the screen.

Yunho dropped his head against the couch with a groan. “You cheated.”

She tilted her head, feigning confusion.“Me?”

“Yes, you,” he shot back, though his voice cracked halfway between annoyance and laughter. “You’re so—” He cut himself off, exhaling hard, rubbing a hand over his face.

y/n’s smirk softened into something warmer, quieter. She could still see the faint pink on his ears, the frustrated curve of his mouth. Reaching out, she rested her hand lightly on his thigh, her thumb brushing small, absent circles over the denim.

“Hey,” she murmured, teasing still, but gentler now. “It’s just a game.”

He turned his head slightly toward her, eyes sharp but soft around the edges. “Yeah,” he said, trying—and failing—to sound unaffected. “Right. Just a game.”

y/n let out a small hum, thoughtful, before shifting her weight on the couch. Her hand stayed on his thigh a beat longer than necessary, grounding herself before she moved. Then she pushed up onto her knees, reaching across him toward the small box on the side table near his end of the couch.

The couch dipped under her weight, her body curving as she stretched toward the table. The hem of her jeans tugged slightly, revealing the line of her lower back; the air between them seemed to fold in on itself. Yunho’s grip on the controller tightened, knuckles pale. He wasn’t sure where to look—at the screen, at his hands, anywhere but her. His breath caught despite himself, chest unmoving for a long, tense heartbeat.

y/n’s fingers brushed the edge of the box, nudging it closer until she could catch it fully. “Got it,” she murmured, her voice quiet but edged with satisfaction. She straightened slowly, careful and unhurried, as if she knew every inch of his focus was tracking her movement.

When she finally sat back beside him, the faintest smirk tugged at her lips. Yunho still hadn’t moved. His controller rested awkwardly in his hands, shoulders tight, ears flushed red.

She pretended not to notice. “Relax,” she said softly, setting the box down on her lap. “You look like you forgot how to breathe.”

y/n flipped open the box, the small sound of the hinge breaking the silence. Inside, neatly packed, lay a few pre-rolled blunts—her weekend ritual. She plucked one out with two fingers, casual but deliberate, the paper catching the warm lamplight.

Yunho watched from the corner of his eye, jaw set tight. She didn’t need to look at him to feel it—his attention, his restraint, the tension coiling beneath that calm surface.

She placed it between her lips, the motion slow and familiar, before leaning forward to reach for the lighter on the coffee table.

The click of the flame broke the silence—small, intimate, final.

The soft glow from the lamps caught the edge of her jaw, the smoke curling gently upward as she exhaled, and Yunho, still quiet beside her, pretended to keep his eyes on the TV. But he didn’t. Not really.

y/n took another slow drag, the smoke curling up between them, softening the edges of the room in its hazy warmth. Then, without a word, she turned her head, holding the blunt out toward him.

“Want some?” she asked, voice low, almost lazy.

Yunho hesitated for a second—like he was deciding if that was a good idea—but then nodded. His fingers brushed hers as he took it, the contact short, but it lingered like heat.

She didn’t move away. Instead, she leaned in, resting her head on his shoulder, her hair spilling down his arm. The scent of her lotion mixed with the smoke—sweet, heavy, and distracting.

Yunho brought the blunt to his lips, drawing in a careful, quiet breath. He needed it—not for the high, but for the stillness it offered, the illusion that he could slow the pulse that refused to calm.

Beside him, y/n shifted, her head coming to rest against his shoulder as she exhaled a lazy sigh. She felt utterly at ease, the picture of calm domestic warmth. Too close. Too easy. Too much—at least for him.

He held the blunt out for her, but she didn’t take it right away. Instead, her fingers trailed down, brushing his hand—the one still clutching his controller like a lifeline. With gentle insistence, she pried it from his grasp, their fingers brushing in the process.

The controller landed softly on the cushion beside them, forgotten. Her hand lingered just long enough to make him forget to breathe before slipping away.

For a few seconds, neither of them spoke. The TV hummed quietly, the game’s bright colors casting faint reflections against the coffee table, the sound blending with the low crackle of the blunt between them.

Yunho exhaled again, smoke curling through the lamplight, fragile and wavering. He tried to focus on the ordinary—the hum of electricity, the soft creak of the couch, the rhythmic sound of Wasabi shifting in his bed nearby. But then y/n shifted again, her cheek brushing his shoulder, her breath fanning lightly against his neck, and the world narrowed back down to this. Just her. Just now.

When she finally took the blunt from him, her fingers brushed his again—a quiet, wordless exchange. She drew in, then tilted her head toward him, voice gentle and musing.

“So,” she murmured, eyes still half on the screen, half on the smoke curling between them, “do you ever… stop thinking for a bit? Like… really stop?”

Yunho took another drag before answering, the smoke escaping in a slow stream from the corner of his lips. “I try,” he said vaguely, eyes fixed on the faint glow of the TV screen. “Doesn’t usually work, though.”

She hummed, the sound small and thoughtful. Her fingers—absentminded, relaxed—drifted down to his thigh. Just tracing the seam of his jeans, following the line from his hip to his knee. Not intentional. Not sexual. Just… touch.

The kind that said she trusted him. The kind that killed him.

Yunho’s breath hitched, almost imperceptibly. He tried to keep still, but his muscles betrayed him—hips shifting, legs tensing. The blunt trembled between his fingers.

y/n’s gaze flicked down just in time to catch the subtle movement. The fabric of his jeans pulled tighter. Her eyes lingered, then slowly lifted to meet his.

Her voice was quiet—curious, teasing, but without malice. “…Yunho?”

He didn’t look at her. “Yeah?”

“Are you—” she hesitated, her tone dipping into something almost innocent, “—hard?”

The word landed softly, but it rippled through him like lightning. Yunho’s throat worked, the muscles in his jaw tightening as he reached forward to leave the blunt in the ashtray. 

“I—sorry.” He pushed himself halfway up from the couch, words tripping over themselves. “I’ll just—uh, bathroom—” Before he could fully stand up, her hand caught his thigh—light but steady, a gentle pressure that stopped him cold.

“Hey,” she said softly, the word landing somewhere between comfort and challenge. “It’s fine.” He froze, every muscle going still. The warmth of her palm anchored him in place — not pushing, not pulling, just there.

She tilted her head, her cheeks faintly flushed, smoke and lamplight catching in her lashes. “You don’t have to run off,” she murmured, voice lower now, almost playful but not unkind.

For a moment, neither of them breathed.

Yunho’s breath stuttered, his pulse hammering beneath his skin. He looked at her like she was both danger and gravity—something he couldn’t fight even if he wanted to.

y/n’s voice softened, the teasing gone. “Hey,” she said again, this time almost a whisper, something careful threading through it. “You don’t have to be nervous.”

He opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out. Just a small nod, uncertain and sweet and painfully honest.

Her hand, still resting against his thigh, slid upward—not with hunger, but with a slow, coaxing ease. It came to rest against his side, fingers brushing the hem of his shirt. Her touch wasn’t about taking, but about calming. A silent, you can breathe.

“Look at me,” she said softly.

He did. Big eyes, glassy and uncertain under the lamplight. The kind of look that made her heart squeeze—so much wanting in him, and yet so much hesitation.

y/n leaned in a fraction closer, letting her breath ghost over his lips, her scent wrapping around him like a warm, intoxicating cloud. Yunho’s chest rose and fell faster, every nerve suddenly humming as if she had somehow flipped a switch inside him.

The game's forgotten controller slipped from the couch cushion, clattering softly to the floor, but neither of them noticed. Laughter had evaporated into heavy quiet, the air between them crackling like a storm about to break.

Her fingers lingered in his hair, combing through the strands slowly, deliberately, grounding him while teasing his restraint. “Let me help you with it,” she murmured again, voice softer, intimate, yet full of promise.

He swallowed, the sound too loud in his own ears, eyes flicking nervously between hers. “You—you really know how to ruin me,” he muttered, voice breaking in a way that made her smile even wider.

y/n leaned closer, letting her lips brush against his cheek first, slow, feather-light kisses that traced along the edge of his mouth. She tilted her head, giving him the tiniest chance to pull back. He didn’t. His eyes were wide, pupils blown, lips parting slightly under her teasing.

Then, finally, she pressed her mouth to his, soft at first, testing, claiming. Yunho froze for a fraction, a shiver running down his spine at the contact, before a low, unsure hum escaped him. His hands twitched in his lap, hesitant, wanting to find her, to hold her, but unsure of the permission in her movement.

y/n deepened the kiss, tilting her head, letting her hand slip from his hair to his jaw, tilting his face gently, guiding him. Her lips were warm, soft, and demanding all at once, helping him let go, to just sink into her touch. Yunho’s body leaned forward instinctively, relaxing into the warmth, a quiet shiver running down his spine.

Her thumb brushed over his cheek, fingertips sliding to the nape of his neck as her mouth moved with his, soft, teasing, and urgent all at once. He let out a small, breathless moan, somewhere between startled and wanting, the rest of the world fading out.

y/n pulled back just enough to let her forehead rest against his, eyes half-lidded, lips brushing his again, whispering against them: “See? Not so hard to let go.”

Yunho let out a shaky laugh, soft and a little disbelieving, his hands finally moving on their own—brushing her sides, tracing her ribs, just to make sure she was really there. y/n felt the spark, the proof she wasn’t imagining it. He wanted her too—and that was all she needed.

Before she even realized it, she grabbed his shirt and pushed him back into the couch. It came out harder than she meant—too much heat, too much adrenaline.

Yunho’s breath hitched, his hands falling away from her sides as he flopped back against the cushions, eyes wide, lips parted, a mix of surprise and arousal flickering across his face. “y/n…” he whispered, breathless, but his hands moved instinctively, eager to keep her close.

y/n kept her eyes on him, the air between them heavy. She stayed put, straddling his lap like she owned the space. She kissed him again, slow at first—soft, teasing—before his breath hitched, and she took it further, her tongue finding his, tasting the faint salt of his skin. 

Her hands slid down over his shoulders and chest, exploring without hurry, until one reached his hair. A small tug, a quiet groan from him—enough to make her grin against his lips.

She pulled back just enough to breathe, their mouths still hovering close. Her fingers stayed on his jaw, keeping him there, her eyes dropping to his lips. They were red and swollen, and she couldn’t resist—her tongue darted up in a quick, feral lick, lapping from Yunho's bottom lip to his top like a desperate animal. 

Yunho trembled, a rough, broken sound catching in his throat. His hands clamped onto her thighs, desperate, like he needed the touch to stay grounded.

y/n grinned, her breath brushing his skin. For a heartbeat, she studied him—flushed cheeks, half-lidded eyes, a mix of shock and want—and then she kissed him again, deeper this time, all fire and instinct, nothing held back.

Their lips moved together like they’d been holding back for too long, hunger spilling out between gasps. She shifted in his lap, the move unsteady, instinctive, until her thighs caged his hips and her body fit against his like it was meant to.

Her weight shifted fully onto him now, thighs bracketing his hips, the warmth of her core pressing down through the thin barrier of her jeans against the rigid line of his arousal. 

The heat of him was undeniable—his erection pressed just right against her clit through her jeans, each subtle shift sending electric jolts up her spine. y/n ground down harder, deliberate, slow rolls of her hips soaking her panties more with every passing second, the damp warmth seeping through denim as her arousal built. 

Yunho shuddered beneath her, his breath hitching against her lips, a mix of raw want and shy disbelief in his tightening grip on her thighs. It wasn’t polished or controlled—just trembling, real, and so him.

Their kiss faltered, messy and breathless, half lips, half gasps. Her grinding nudged him just enough to pull a soft, whiny sound from his throat—needy, pleading, barely audible but vibrating straight to her core. Those little noises—his shaky breaths, the tiny hitches—were all she needed to know he wanted her as much as she wanted him, her pulse pounding as she tugged his hair, drawing another broken moan that made her clench tight.

The air turned thick, heavy, like the room was holding its breath. y/n broke the kiss, trailing her lips along his jaw, nipping the sensitive spot below his ear—sharp little bites that stung sweet before she soothed them with soft kisses like an apology she didn't mean. 

Yunho’s breath caught, a high, desperate whine escaping as he arched into her, chasing the mix of pain and pleasure. Her mouth moved to his neck, grazing the taut skin, sucking lightly where his pulse raced, teeth dragging just enough to mark him before her tongue swirled slow, tasting the salty heat of his throat. 

He loved it, god, the way his moans grew throatier, hips bucking up instinctively, pressing harder against her core—he’s so hard, the thought sparking through her, urging her to unravel him completely.

Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, working them open with deliberate slowness, each soft pop baring more of his skin—the pale expanse of his chest, the faint trail of dark hair disappearing below his navel. His breath hitched, a flush creeping up his neck like a spreading flame, and in a sudden flicker of shyness, his arms twitched up, crossing over his torso as if to shield himself from her hungry stare, the vulnerability of being so exposed almost too much.

y/n didn’t let him. She grabbed his wrists, firm but gentle, and guided his hands to her ass, pressing them against the denim. "Don't hide from me, Yunho," she said, voice low and playful, with just enough edge to make him shiver. She held his gaze, his wide, nervous eyes locking with hers—full of want but flickering with that shy uncertainty. "I want you to feel how much I want this... and I want to see every bit of you looking back at me like you can't get enough."

Her words hit him like a spark, making his eyes sharpen with a tentative heat. His fingers squeezed her ass, hesitant at first, then firmer, testing how she felt under his hands as he stared back, bolder now. 

She tugged his shirt off, tossing it aside without looking, and took her time eyeing him—his chest heaving, throat bobbing as he swallowed hard, eyes stuck on her like she was his whole world. “God, look at you,” she murmured, voice thick with want, breath hot against his skin.

Her lips hit his chest, kissing slowly along his collarbone, making him tremble, then nipping at his ribs, sharp enough to make him gasp. His hands gripped her ass tighter, anchoring himself. But as her mouth drifted lower, trailing wet, deliberate paths toward the waistband of his jeans, y/n began to slide down his body inch by inch—her weight shifting, her breasts brushing his thighs.

Yunho’s hands shifted—one trembling as it rested on her lower back, the other grazing her arm, light and unsure, like he was scared to hold too tight but couldn’t let go either.

Yunho’s eyes were wide, almost dazed, as y/n sank down in front of him, her movements slow and confident, her gaze locked on his—dark, intense, full of promise. Her hands moved to his belt, unbuckling it with a soft clink that cut through the quiet room, then tugged down his jeans and underwear in one smooth pull. 

His cock sprang free, thick and heavy, curving up toward his stomach, the tip already slick with pre-cum. God, he’s huge, she thought, a flicker of nerves hitting her—how’s that even gonna fit?—but it quickly turned to a thrill, heat pooling low in her belly, urging her on.

His cheeks flushed red, composure crumbling as he stared down at her, like she might disappear if he blinked. y/n’s fingers wrapped around his shaft, warm and solid in her hand, starting with light, teasing strokes—up and down, slow, her thumb circling the tip, spreading the slickness. Yunho’s hips jerked, a shaky “y/n…” slipping out, his voice raw with need. 

She just smirked, wicked and knowing, leaning in to trace tiny licks along the underside of his cock, from base to tip, peppering soft kisses on the sensitive skin. His thighs trembled, little gasps escaping him, her deliberate touches unraveling him bit by bit, his hand twitching like he wasn’t sure whether to stop her or pull her closer.

Then she took him into her mouth, lips stretching around the head, the heat of him overwhelming as she moved down slow—torturously slow, every inch a tease that had Yunho’s thoughts spiraling: Fuck, she’s killing me, so wet, so warm… please, faster. His hips twitched involuntarily, but she held him steady with one hand at his base, fingers squeezing in rhythm with her descent, keeping him steady while she worked him. 

Her tongue shifted with precision—broad, flat licks along the vein that made sparks shoot through him, then quick, playful flicks at the sensitive ridge just below the head, pulling a string of curses—“Shit, y/n, fuck”—before swirling lazy circles around the head, tasting the salty leak of pre-cum, each move designed to make him shake and beg for more.

y/n worked him deeper, inch by slow inch, her mouth gliding over him with agonizing patience, throat relaxing to take him in until her nose brushed the trimmed hair at his pelvis, the musky scent of him—sweat and arousal—hitting her senses hard. She hummed around his length, satisfied, the vibration pulling a ragged moan from Yunho’s chest, his body trembling under her.

Yunho's hand shook as it rose, sweeter in its instinct, reaching for her cheek—fingers brushing there with a gentle touch, thumb tracing her jaw like he needed to feel her to stay grounded in the heat of her mouth. 

But y/n paused, just enough to meet his eyes with a mischievous glint, shaking her head. She caught his wrist, guiding his hand from her face to her hair, threading his fingers through the strands and pressing his palm against her scalp—a quiet nudge: grab me, move me—take what you need. 

His grip tightened, testing, a shy tug that made her hum again, approval buzzing around him as she picked up her pace, bobbing faster, the sensation twisting tight in his gut.

But her mouth was too much, pulling him under fast—her throat clenching around him, the wet heat and that hum driving him wild. He couldn’t hold back, hips jerking up in shallow thrusts, an attempt to fuck her throat with a desperate edge, her gags loud and messy, like something filthy and alive. 

His fingers tightened in her hair, knuckles white as he pulled her close, holding her there for a few seconds—fuck, too good, too much—her throat fluttering around him, squeezing with every swallow, pushing him dangerously close to the edge.

y/n choked around him, the sound wet and obscene, but she took it—endured the burn, tears slipping hot down her cheeks as his cock buried impossibly deep, her eyes rolling back in her head from the overwhelming stretch, nose smashed against the coarse trim of his pelvis.

But Yunho felt the coil in his gut snap tight, too close to bursting, and he didn’t want it like this—not spilling down her throat when he ached to feel her walls around him. With a rough curse, he yanked her off, pulling her hair to lift her mouth free, spit and pre-cum stringing from her swollen lips to his slick, twitching cock.

He slumped back against the couch, head dropping, eyes shut tight as he panted, fighting to hold off—not yet, fuck, breathe. y/n stayed there a moment, catching her breath, wiping her mouth, mascara streaking her flushed face. Her eyes fixed on him—wrecked, chest heaving, cock heavy and soaked—and a smirk curled her lips, feral and triumphant, knowing she’d pushed him to the brink. 

She stood slowly, hooking her thumbs into her jeans, sliding them down with her panties in a careless toss, leaving her bare, skin glistening with her own arousal, ready to take him apart all over again.

She settled back onto his lap, bare from the waist down, the cool air brushing her slick thighs as she straddled him, his hard cock pressing hot against her inner thigh. Her tank top hugged her curves tight, one strap slipped down her shoulder, the other strap holding up the fabric, her nipples hard and poking through like they were begging for attention.

Yunho's head was still heavy against the couch, neck stretched out from how close she'd pushed him to the edge earlier. y/n leaned in, taking advantage, her lips finding his throat—soft, lingering kisses, open-mouthed and warm over his racing pulse. 

His eyes fluttered open, hazy and dark, pulling back to her like he couldn't look away—watching how she moved on top of him, half-naked and bold, that loose strap teasing the edge of her exposed skin. But a flush hit his neck quick, that shy side peeking out as his gaze dropped to her breast, then snapped away, cheeks turning pink like he was caught staring.

It made y/n smile, soft but with a predatory edge, her hips grinding deliberate against his still-hard length, feeling him twitch. She grabbed his hands, placing them over her tank top fabric—palms cupping her breasts through the thin cotton, thumbs grazing the curve underneath her breast.. 

She leaned close, whispering against his lips, "Touch me, Yunho. Please." The plea wrapped in her invitation hit him hard, his breath catching sharp, eyes widening with that mix of nerves and want.

At first, he was all clumsy care—fingers shaking as they spread over her breasts through the fabric, eyes locked on hers, wide and intense, like he was trying to read every reaction on her face. He pressed tentative kisses to her shoulder, soft and hesitant. His thumbs circled her nipples slow at first, then rubbed firmer, the cotton dragging rough enough to make her shiver hard, her core clenching around nothing.

"Yunho..." she breathed out, half plea, half encouragement, and it flipped something in him—hunger taking over fast. He hooked a finger under the loose strap, tugging the tank down to free her breast fully, cool air hitting her skin sharp against the heat in his stare. No pause—he latched his mouth onto her nipple, groaning low and starved, sucking hard, tongue swirling until she hissed and arched into him, fingers digging into his shoulders to hold on. 

His hands got bolder, kneading her flesh, the other still teasing through the tank, kisses trailing down her sternum, under her breast—surrender turning fierce, teeth grazing light to sting, pulling a gasp from her that matched his shaky breaths.

One hand on his shoulder, nails biting into his skin for balance, the other wrapped his cock—still rock-hard, twitching desperate in her fist, slick from her spit and his pre-cum making it slide easily. 

y/n teased him bad, rubbing the head along her slit slow at first, dragging up and down her wet folds, coating him in her arousal, each pass bumping her clit and sparking nerves alive.

It wrecked him—torture, his hips bucking up with a high, broken whine. "F-fuck, y/n, please," he begged, voice lewd and cracked, breaths ragged as she kept him teasing at her entrance, slicking him up until he throbbed hard, veins jumping under her palm. "You're so wet... shit, I can feel you dripping on me. Let me inside, please, I’ll fuck you so good."

She gave in finally, lining him up, the tip pushing in with a wet schlick, sinking down slowly. The stretch burned—brutal, almost too much, her walls gripping the first inches tight as she adjusted to his size, gasping sharp. Yunho moaned deep from his chest—"Ah, yes, just like that... so tight around me, fuck." 

"Oh god, you're splitting me open," she panted, pausing halfway in, forehead falling to his shoulder, breathing through the full feeling, their hot breaths mixing, his whiny groans humming against her.

She rolled her hips tentative, taking him deeper bit by bit until he was all the way in, clit grinding his pelvis, heat building low again as he bucked weak, moaning messy. "Faster, please, move faster... fuck."

y/n chuckled low, husky and winning, smirking as she watched him break—eyes half-shut, mouth open with those needy whines hitting her core like fire. She loved his begging, how his shy voice cracked on her name, that sweet submissive energy twisting desperate; it made her feel in control, wanted, like she could tease him forever. 

So she kept it slow—torturous, but deep and hard each time, slamming down to the base with a slap, walls squeezing him like a fist, grinding her clit while holding back the speed he craved.

"Fuck—y/n, please, faster," he begged again, hands twitching on her hips, fingers pressing bruises as he tried to pull her harder, but she pinned his wrists down with a teasing eyebrow raise, circling her hips lazy instead, dragging another whimper. 

"You're killing me... so good, but—ah—I need more, baby, please let me fuck you properly." His pleas were shy-edged still, voice high and whiny, eyes pleading up at her, body trembling under her control, that nerdy hesitation making her want to push him further, draw out every whine until he was fully hers.

Yunho squirmed a little, wrists flexing under her hold, but he didn't fight it—too shy, too eager to please, his cock throbbing inside her with every slow roll, pre-cum mixing with her slick. y/n leaned down, nipping his ear, whispering, "Not yet, baby. Beg nicer." 

He whimpered again, hips stuttering up helpless, face flushing deeper, the subby side shining through in his wide eyes and bitten lip. She rocked deeper, loving how he unraveled slow under her pace, his breaths coming in soft, needy pants that begged without words.

The tension built like that—her in charge, him yielding, every grind pulling more of those shy moans, his body arching just enough to chase her without overstepping. y/n's own heat climbed, walls fluttering around him, but she held the reins, savoring his desperation, making the power rush sweeter.

y/n’s teasing had pushed him to the edge, his words melting into a high whine as she lifted almost off him, leaving just the tip brushing her entrance before slamming down hard, the fullness hitting her so deep it stole her breath. Her smirk widened, catching the frustrated tears in his lashes, knowing she’d milk every desperate plea from him.

Yunho’s control was slipping, his breaths coming in rough, heavy pants, each one hot against her collarbone, edged with a low growl that vibrated where their bodies met. Then, the air shifted—he wasn’t just following her lead anymore. His hips snapped up, meeting her with thrusts that knocked the air from her lungs, a quiet fire sparking in his eyes, no longer soft but sharp, determined, claiming.

His hands, pinned under hers, flexed as her grip loosened, the overwhelming pleasure unraveling her hold. Those thrusts weren’t shy now—hard, precise, dragging his cock against her walls in a way that sparked heat low in her belly, her gasps sharp and uneven. “Y-Yunho—fuck,” she whimpered, her fingers slackening, nails grazing his wrists as her body shook, letting him thrust up harder. 

His eyes darkening with a fierce edge, like he’d taken back a piece of the control she’d held so tight.

The shift hit fast. With a low growl, Yunho’s arms wrapped around her waist, pulling her flush against him in a blur of sweat and need. He pulled out with a wet pop, her walls clenching at the sudden emptiness, a whine escaping her as he flipped them in a messy tangle of limbs. Her back hit the couch with a soft thud, breath knocked out, legs splayed wide around his hips in a rough missionary sprawl.

He loomed over her, his broader frame caging her in, the shy, nerdy boy gone—replaced by something raw, commanding. His eyes, once wide and pleading, were now dark, predatory slits, pinning her with a look that promised to take everything she gave. 

Without a word, he lined himself up, the slick head of his cock nudging her folds before pushing in slow, deliberate, both of them hissing as the stretch burned through her again. y/n’s moan broke high and needy as he sank in, filling her until his hips pressed flush, balls heavy against her ass. 

Yunho groaned low, forehead touching hers briefly, their ragged breaths mixing. “Fuck,” he rasped, voice rough, sending shivers down her spine.

His thrusts turned steady, unforgiving—deep, hard, spearing into her with wet, filthy sounds, her walls gripping him tight, toes curling in the air. He teased her then, enough to make her squirm—grinding slow against her g-spot before pulling back, leaving just the tip inside, smirking as their eyes locked in a heated challenge. 

“You like that, don’t you? Had me begging earlier… now you’re the one spread out, dripping for me,” he murmured, voice low and dirty, punctuated by a sharp thrust that buried him deep, ripping a gasp from her. His hands gripped her thighs hard, fingers digging in as he pulled her legs around his waist, her heels pressing into his lower back. Her hands flew to his shoulders, one sliding down to scratch at his flexing spine as he fucked her harder, the wet slap of skin loud in the room.

Their eyes met—hers hazy, his sharp and consuming, like he was memorizing her falling apart—before his mouth crashed onto hers, all teeth and tongue, swallowing her moans as he pounded faster. He pulled back to bite her shoulder, sharp and possessive, groaning against her skin as he sucked a mark there, her hand tangling in his hair to hold him close, the sting melting into heat as she arched up, legs tightening around him.

The room was just them now—the wet, rhythmic slap of their bodies, their breaths ragged and tangled, her arousal coating him, dripping down her thighs. Yunho shifted again, rising to his knees without pulling out, the angle deepening, making her walls flutter in protest. He lifted her legs, draping them over his shoulders, his muscles taut like he was ready to pounce. 

One hand held her calves steady, thumb brushing the sensitive skin there; the other found her hand, fingers lacing tight, grounding her in the intensity. His lips pressed soft, heated kisses along her ankle, trailing down her calf, nipping lightly before soothing with his tongue, eyes flicking up to hers, dark and focused, holding her gaze through the worship.

In this position, y/n was lost—screaming now, raw, broken cries tearing from her throat as he pounded harder, his cock hitting that spot inside her with brutal precision, stars bursting behind her eyes, vision blurring. “Fuck, Yunho—yes,” she gasped, back arching off the couch, her free hand clawing at the cushions. 

“Look at you, taking me so good,” he growled, voice thick with dominance, no trace of the shy boy left—just raw intent, his grip tightening, eyes burning into hers as he pushed them both toward the edge, her moans mixing with his low groans, the heat between them consuming everything else.

y/n’s back arched off the couch, every nerve screaming for release as the coil in her belly wound tighter with each grind, Yunho’s eyes locked on hers, daring her to break first. “Yunho—god, yes, don’t stop,” she gasped, their clasped hands her only anchor in the frenzy, his teasing smirk shifting to something fiercer, more devoted, as he matched her rhythm, no longer just following but driving it.

“That’s it, take it,” he rasped, voice rough, eyes sharp and dark, the command edged with raw need that made her clench around him, teetering on the edge. The shy Yunho was nowhere to be seen, now bolder, more in control, his gaze pinning her as he took charge.

He felt the heat building in his gut, tight and urgent, groaning against her ankle as her walls gripped him—tight, fluttering, pulling him in with every thrust, telling him she was close, maybe closer than him. “Fuck, y/n, you're squeezing me so goddamn tight… gonna make me cum if you keep that up, but shit, I can feel you, baby, you're right there, aren't you? So close for me...” 

His voice was gritty, words spilling out raw and hungry as he shifted, growling low, folding her in half under him. Her thighs pressed to her chest, knees hooked over his elbows, bodies locked tight in a mating press that pinned her down, letting him thrust deep, relentless, each wet slap echoing her choked moans.

His fingers slid between them, finding her clit swollen and slick—damn, she’s soaked—his touch gliding smooth, circling firm and fast, matching his brutal thrusts. His hips faltered, rhythm breaking as his own climax loomed, balls tight, pressure unbearable, but he held back—wanted her to go first. 

“Cum for me, y/n—please, let me feel you soak my cock, I need it,” he begged, voice cracking, fingers flicking her clit faster, desperate, pushing her toward the edge. y/n was gone, babbling—“Y-Yunho, ah—fuck, I—nngh—close, oh god…”—her words crumbling into raw cries, eyes rolling back as his touch and dirty talk dragged her under. It was messy, intense, pulling them both into the fire.

She shattered first, her orgasm hitting like a wave, walls convulsing around him, squeezing so hard it felt like she’d pull him apart. Then she squirted, a hard, relentless gush, soaking his pelvis, dripping down her thighs, staining the couch. 

Yunho’s eyes widened, shock flashing across his face—he’d never seen that, never felt the hot, wet rush coating him, but it lit him up, raw and feral. “Fuck, that’s so hot, you’re drenching me, baby, keep going,” he groaned, words half-lost, hips snapping erratic to chase the slick heat, each thrust smoother, deeper, driving him wild.

It pushed him over—too much—and he buried himself deep with a guttural moan, spilling inside her in thick pulses, filling her until it leaked out, mixing with her slick in a messy pool. Their moans tangled, her body shaking with overstimulation under him, thighs trembling against his shoulders as aftershocks hit hard—her nerves raw, his muscles seizing, cock twitching with faint throbs that pulled low whimpers from him. He slumped forward, forehead on her shoulder, sweat-damp hair sticking to her skin, their breaths rough and uneven, the air heavy with sex and surrender.

The tremors didn’t stop, her body still quaking, walls fluttering around him, milking every last shudder. Yunho’s own aftershocks were brutal—abs and thighs tight, each pulse of his cock drawing soft, broken sounds from his throat, his dominant edge softening back into something vulnerable. 

He held her close, one hand still laced with hers, the other stroking her thigh gently, grounding them both as the intensity faded. y/n’s gasps turned to soft whimpers, her body twitching with leftover sparks, while Yunho’s breaths slowed, his shy side creeping back in the way he nuzzled her shoulder, almost hiding his face. 

The room quieted, their connection lingering in the shared heat, the unspoken shift between them settling like a promise.

The quiet settled around them, soft and easy, the distant hum of the city drifting in through the window like a lullaby. Yunho stayed pressed against her, not pulling out yet—just pressing against her with a boneless weight, his head resting lightly on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart slowly matching his own.

His hand lay warm on her waist, thumb tracing lazy circles over her hip, simple gestures that spoke louder than words. y/n’s fingers found his hair, brushing and combing at the nape of his neck in gentle, soothing strokes, nails scraping gently against his scalp. He hummed softly, almost a purr, a low, contented sound that made her smile against his hair.

The room felt small and quiet, the heat of their closeness lingering where sweat had dried. y/n let out a soft, breathy laugh, tilting his face up with a playful tug of a damp strand of hair. “God, Yunho… look at you,” she murmured, voice warm and teasing, her chest rising and falling against his. It wasn’t flashy or urgent—just them, together, and perfectly alive in the quiet.

His eyes cracked open, hazy and sated, but the moment they met hers, that familiar flush crept back up his neck like clockwork—the shy, nerdy boy resurfacing in full force, wide-eyed and endearingly flustered, as if the beast who'd just folded her in half and wrung screams from her throat was a stranger he'd borrowed for the night. 

He ducked his head instinctively, burying his burning face against her collarbone with a muffled groan, one arm tightening around her waist like he could hide in her skin.

She laughed then, a genuine, light peal that shook them both gently, her free hand cupping his jaw to coax him back up, thumb brushing his swollen lip. "What happened to that guy? The one who had me seeing stars and begging like an idiot? Sex turns you into a total beast... but this? Cuddling up like my soft little puppy? Adorable." 

Her tone was all fondness, no bite, eyes sparkling with mischief as she watched him squirm—cheeks blooming pink, a bashful smile tugging at his mouth despite himself, that boyish awkwardness making her heart squeeze in the best way. 

"Shut up," he mumbled, voice thick and sleepy, but there was no heat in it, just a shy nuzzle into her neck, his breath tickling her skin as he pressed a tentative kiss there, like an apology wrapped in gratitude. "You're the one who... you know. Started it."

y/n chuckled softly, pressing her lips to his hair. “Right… I did, didn’t I?”

He lifted his head slightly, just enough to meet her gaze, eyes earnest now beneath the pink haze of sleep and exertion. “I know… I know I’m… probably terrible at saying this,” he admitted, voice low and hesitant, “but I… I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anyone like I want you. Not just tonight, not just…” His words faltered, shy, searching her face for permission to go further. “I mean… I know from the way you are, from everything… you make me want… more than I’ve ever wanted before.”

y/n’s chest tightened, warmth blooming as she tucked her head back against him, fingers weaving through his hair. “Yunho… you don’t have to say it all at once. I… I think I’ve known that for a long time. I just like hearing it anyway.”

A quiet, satisfied hum left him, settling back against her chest, the tension of vulnerability easing. He pressed a soft kiss to her collarbone again, murmuring a shy, “I’m glad… you feel that too,” before nuzzling closer, hiding his flushed face against her skin.

No more words followed—just the steady, comforting beat of shared silence, limbs tangled loose and lazy, the air thick with trust and intimacy. The unspoken truth lingered between them like a promise, warm and indelible: whatever this was, wild beast or lost puppy, it had changed for good.

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