Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
I just always think: Ateez are weirdos, right? They can be losers, they can be too loud and annoying, some can be know it alls or throw jabs at each other. A few of them might be ND and not always have the ‘correct’ reactions right away or know how to say the right thing immediately.
Yet, we love them despite their flaws and often even because of them. We give them a lot of grace because we look at them with so much tenderness.
content warning: kidnapping; drugging; slight gore
Masterlist
word count: 6320
The final notes of the song faded through the studio speakers as you leaned back in your chair and stretched. Five hours on air had a way of making your shoulders ache, though it was a small price to pay for getting to spend your afternoons talking about music and local gossip for a living.
Across the hall, movement caught your eye...familiar, clockwork-like movement.
Yunho stepped off the elevator with a cardboard drink carrier balanced in one hand and his backpack slung over the other shoulder.
A smile immediately tugged at your lips. The man couldn't be late if his life depended on it.
Every weekday, he arrived nearly 20 minutes before his own show started. Every weekday, he walked through those doors carrying the exact same two drinks. And every weekday, he paused outside the studio window to hold one of them up for you to see.
You laughed softly as he lifted the cup in question.
Your decaf latte.
The station paid neither of you enough for this habit, yet somehow he'd maintained it for almost a year. When he noticed you watching, he offered a small wave. You returned it before pointing toward the microphone still positioned in front of your face.
"Thirty more seconds," you mouthed.
His grin widened, and he settled into the chair outside the booth to wait. The sight was oddly comforting... maybe because so much of radio relied on routine.
The same jingles.
The same commercials.
The same listeners calling in every Tuesday to complain about traffic.
Yunho had somehow become part of that routine too, as dependable as the promise of air to breathe.
You finished introducing your final song of the day and pulled your headphones off as soon as the microphone light switched off. By the time you stepped out of the studio, your coffee was already waiting on the desk.
"Your devotion to caffeine should be studied," you teased him as you picked up the cup. The cold plastic was already damp with condensation against your fingers.
Yunho shrugged as though arriving every afternoon with your coffee wasn't a habit he'd built into his schedule "You say that every day."
"Because every day you show up with proof that you're single-handedly keeping that coffee shop in business."
"Single-handed?" he joked, eyeing your grip on the cup and lips on the straw.
"That's not the point," you retorted.
He laughed as you took an appreciative sip. The decaf wasn't technically necessary anymore. You'd cut back on caffeine months ago after one too many nights staring at your ceiling at three in the morning, but Yunho still continued to bring you a treat anyway.
"How was today?" he asked.
You groaned dramatically. "Mrs. Patterson called...again."
His expression immediately lit up with recognition. "The woman who thinks the city is spying on her through parking meters?"
"The very same."
"What was it this time?" he asked with a playful grin.
"She says they're communicating through Morse code now. She thinks the lights that flash to indicate the time has expired are actually flashing to other meters' cameras to share intel on her."
Yunho bit back a smile. "You're making that up."
"I wish I were."
The two of you drifted down the hallway together toward the larger evening studio. Producers moved around you carrying papers and coffee cups while someone from sales hurried past talking loudly into a headset. The station was at its busiest during a shift change...when one show ended and another began.
"Any exciting wishes lately?" you asked, as if you hadn't listened every night. That earned an immediate smile on Yunho's lips.
The 11:11 Wish Line was Yunho's baby. Management had originally expected it to last a month before listeners got bored, yet two years later it had become the station's most popular segment.
"Actually," he said, "remember the little girl who wanted a puppy for her birthday?"
"The one who cried on air?"
He nodded with an eager grin. "She got one."
You stopped walking, eyeing him suspiciously. "No way."
"Yes way."
"Yunho..." you shook your head in disbelief.
"What?" he shrugged. "The poor little guy needed a home."
"You're ridiculously sweet," you told him, your heart fluttering at the sight of his cheeks blushing.
"You should've seen the pictures her mom sent me."
Your heart squeezed despite yourself. The puppy wish had happened nearly three weeks ago. A nervous eight-year-old had called into the station with less than thirty seconds remaining before 11:12. She told him that she wished for a dog more than anything in the whole world. Half the city had fallen in love with her immediately.
Apparently, Yunho had been one of them.
"You know," you said thoughtfully, "this is exactly why people like your show better than mine."
"That is not true."
"Someone calls my show and asks if birds are government drones."
He snorted.
"Someone calls your show and gets a puppy."
"That's not every day."
You rolled your eyes and nudged him playfully. He'd never admit to caring as much as you knew he did. You were about to ask what other wishes he'd granted lately when the producer waiting outside the evening booth gestured toward Yunho's microphone.
Showtime.
You took another sip of your latte and stepped backward toward the exit. "Try not to accidentally improve too many lives tonight, genie."
"No promises," he winked as he settled into his chair. His smile followed you all the way down the hall as you listened to him introducing himself.
Just like every night, you made the drive home while Yunho's show played quietly through your car speakers. Sometimes you listened closely. Sometimes it became background noise while traffic crawled around you. Either way, hearing his voice had become as familiar as the route itself.
By the time you pulled into your apartment complex, he was interviewing the owner of a local bookstore about an upcoming charity event. You left the radio playing while carrying your bag upstairs and only switched over to a speaker once you got inside.
Your neighbors probably thought you were insane.
You cooked dinner while listening. Folded laundry while listening. Completed half your skincare routine while listening.
By eleven o'clock, you were curled sideways on your couch scrolling mindlessly through your phone while waiting for your favorite part of the show...The Wish Line.
It was ridiculous, honestly. Most of the wishes never amounted to anything. A teenager would call wanting concert tickets; someone would wish that their ex would text them back; a man once spent an entire minute wishing for mozzarella sticks.
Yet every now and then there was something genuine enough to stick with you...something that lingered.
The little girl with the puppy; the elderly woman who wished to hear her late husband's favorite song one last time; the college student who'd called back months later to announce that she'd passed the nursing exam she'd wished for.
Maybe that was why people loved it so much...not because the wishes always came true, but because for sixty seconds every night, someone got to believe they might.
At exactly 11:11, the familiar intro music played.
You smiled automatically. At the studio, in his little room, Yunho was settling into the segment that had made him famous. And somewhere across the city, someone was preparing to make a wish.
Yunho greeted the first caller cheerfully, a familiar voice sounding out on the other end.
"You know what I want," he began, knowing that Yunho would recognize his voice right away.
"Mozzarella sticks? Again?" he chuckled.
The man hummed in agreement.
"You know some people wish for life-changing things like a million dollars or to find love," Yunho joked.
"There's nothing more like changing than that perfect cheese pull, man," he answered before hanging up.
Yunho laughed and greeted the next caller with the same attentiveness. "And what would you like to wish for?"
"I wish for my son to get into college," a worried woman replied. "He just submitted his applications today."
"I'm sure he will," Yunho assured her. "He's got a mother behind him who supports and loves him and that's already a winning system for success."
"Thank you," she told him, her voice cracking as she hung up.
"And for our last wish of the night..." Yunho began to hype up the final caller, but they simply breathed heavily on the other end.
With furrowed brows you sat up, wondering why they weren't speaking.
"Hello?" Yunho asked. "You're on air with You Know Yunho. Did you have a wish?"
They sighed again, even heavier this time before mumbling a breathy, "Yes."
"You've got ten more seconds if you'd like to share," Yunho encouraged. "If not, we can all just make our wishes together."
Yunho did a quiet countdown for the man, starting with ten and getting all the way to 2 before he finally whispered, "Her. I want her," and hung up. The phone beeped on the other end and all of the hair on your body stood up as goosebumps covered your skin. You recognized that voice...you knew he was supposed to be in jail and had somehow accessed a phone at exactly the right time.
Right away you called the studio to find out what number he had dialed from, praying it was from the prison. When they gave the first three digits you threw up.
He'd gotten out.
————————————————————————————
You barely slept as those three words replayed in your brain over and over again. You called your lawyer to find out why you hadn't been notified that your stalker had gotten out on good behavior, but even he was stumped. He promised to follow up, so you dressed for work hoping the show would take your mind off things.
When Yunho rolled in at his usual precisely early time, he noticed your weird demeanor right away. Despite still being On Air, he opened the door to your studio and turned off your mic, setting up an extra song or two to cover for you.
"What's wrong?"
You gave the fakest smile possible and lied, "Nothing."
"I know you too well for that. Just tell me," he urged.
"Fine," you conceded. You didn't want to keep it from
him anyways. After all, he'd testified at the trial since he'd witnessed a lot of the behaviors of your stalker...including the way he showed up to the studio pretending to be part of the cleaning crew. Yunho helped get him put away...he also needed to know he was out. "You know the weird wish you got last night?"
"I assume you're not talking about mozzarella man," Yunho teased, trying to lighten the mood as he pulled up a chair to sit across from you, eyes glued to your expression. He reached for your hand, hoping to comfort you, but it only helped him sense your fear.
"It was Colin. He got out."
Yunho was quiet for a long moment. The silence stretched long enough that you finally looked up from your intertwined hands, immediately wishing you hadn't. His jaw was locked so tightly that you could see the muscle ticking beneath his skin, and the concern that usually softened his features had been replaced by something far more unsettling. Anger. Not at you...never at you. At the situation. At the fact that he'd sat in a courtroom and testified against Colin only to find out months later that somehow he'd been released without anyone bothering to warn the woman he'd spent a year terrorizing. The longer Yunho sat there processing what you'd told him, the more obvious it became that he was struggling to keep his emotions under control.
"What do you mean he got out?" he finally asked.
You leaned forward into Yunho's chest to let him hold you. You both needed it. "I called the lawyer this morning, Yu. It was him."
Yunho held you tight and immediately jumped into fix-it mode. "Okay. Umm, why don't you stay with me for now? He doesn't know where I live and it'll be safer than staying alone. I can even take a few days off of work if you want me to help you move, or..."
"I can't," you breathed, heart racing nervously even though your decision had been made. "I can't let him keep controlling how I live my life."
"But (Y/N)," he began, but you interjected with a masked smile.
"Thanks for the coffee Yunho. I'll see you tomorrow, alright?"
"But..."
"And maybe we can get lunch on Saturday? I know you suck at cooking and haven't had real food in a while," you interrupted, trying to stick to comfortable conversations that didn't make your skin crawl.
"But..."
"Bye. See you tomorrow," you repeated, but as you tried to leave the studio, Yunho squeezed your hand.
"Stay safe, okay?" he pleaded, eyes fearful. You nodded, promising to do your best, and retreated before he could convince you to stay.
You were on high alert the entire walk to your car. Your keys were fixed between your fingers, ready to strike, and your heart thudded in your ears, drowning out any footsteps around you. Your gaze shifted across the pavement in fear of every shadow until you finally reached your car.
You jumped in eagerly, sighing in relief and letting the keys fall to your lap. "I made it," you told yourself, trying to settle before driving home.
"Yes you did," a voice rang out from behind you, clasping their palm over your mouth to silence your screams.
————————————————————————————
Yunho texted you a dozen times that night to make sure you got home safely. He told himself he'd head over right after his show ended, but the minute he made it to his car, you finally answered.
Sorry, fell asleep. Being afraid for your life really takes a lot out of a girl
Yunho smiled at the message...not only because it meant you were safe, but because you were making a joke. Things seemed sort of normal despite everything going on.
So you missed my show? Wowwwwww, he teased.
Promise to catch it tomorrow <3
Yunho slipped his phone into his pocket and headed home. He was glad you were safe, even happier knowing that you seemed to be in good spirits. He decided he'd bring you an extra-large decaf coffee tomorrow try to bring a little smile to your face in the midst of the mess going on in your life, so when his shift rolled around the following day, he stopped by his usual coffee shop on his usual route. The barista looked like she had a question, yet she never brought herself to ask it.
In fact, everyone looked like they wanted to say something to him. They averted their gaze when he walked by instead of returning his smile, and they were overly polite in a way that made him feel strange.
When he got to the studio, he headed to the window to surprise you with your larger-than-normal treat, but stopped in his tracks when he saw Lucy behind the mic.
"And if anyone has any info on the whereabouts of (Y/N) please call in or call the police. And if you're listening (Y/N), we miss you. And we won't stop until we find you."
The drink slipped out of his hand and crashed to the ground. A decaf puddle melted into the carpet but he didn't care. He didn't care when a producer rushed to check on him or when Lucy offered to take his shift too. He couldn't care about anything except finding you.
Yunho strode past Lucy and took the seat at the mic. His voice was shaky when he introduced himself and his show, and he held back tears as he promised to do everything in his power to find you.
————————————————————————————
Cold. Everything felt cold.
Your eyes fluttered open to find that you were on a concrete floor in a dark room made up of cinderblock walls and metal tool boxes. The only source of light was a low-hanging bulb that swung when the air conditioner clicked on. You shivered and pulled your legs to your chest, trying to preserve some warmth, only to realize your entire body was soaked.
"Ahh ahh ahh, what did I say about moving?" Colin taunted before spraying you again with the hose.
A lot of the water went into your nose, and you coughed it up while trembling even more from the cold air hitting your wet skin. Colin crouched down in front of you with an evil smirk. You tried to back away, but he grabbed your face in his hand, squeezing tight so that your cheeks puffed out.
"I was trying to be nice by not tying you up. Don't make me regret that," he warned.
You clutched your bruised jaw with a wince, wondering what you did to deserve any of this. All you'd done was try to live a normal life with a normal job. You found out in the trial that it was an interview with a wrestler that first made Colin interested in you. He had only heard your voice at that point but when he saw your face a few weeks later at a charity event, he knew he wanted you.
And now he had you.
"What do you want from me?" you asked. He clearly didn't want you dead or he would've done that already.
"Revenge," he answered simply as he slipped on a glove. "I want you to feel the pain I felt being locked up for four months. I'm going to keep you here for 132 days...the same amount of time I was jailed...and I'm going to
make every day a new level of hell," he threatened, his jaw tight as he reached for the shears.
"What...what are you going to do with those?" you panicked, standing to try to run, only to find that there was only one door, and he was standing in the way.
"You can't wear your own clothes in jail, silly," he informed you as he stepped closer. "So take them off or I'll cut you out of them."
"Colin, I..." you tried to argue, protectively crossing your arms over yourself, but he wasn't in the mood to listen.
He opened the shears and snapped them shut, making it very clear the options were strip or risk an accidentally fatal cutting injury. You tore off your shirt and pants and handed them over with a soaked plop to the ground.
You covered yourself as much as you could and Colin turned around to retrieve a gray sweatpants and hoodie set that he'd apparently stolen from the high school a town over as it had a bulldog on it. "There, was that so hard?" he asked as he threw the new clothes at you.
You shook your head as tears welled in your eyes and dressed in the new clothes. Colin watched as you covered your skin and finally put the shears down to hold your cheek again.
"What do we say when we're given a gift?" he muttered, his lips dangerously close to yours.
"Th-Thank you," you whispered, too afraid to look into his eyes.
"Good," he praised as he brushed your bruised skin. "I'll be back tomorrow with breakfast."
He turned to head out, but pressed a button on the old, dusty radio by the door before he did so. Just as Colin left, Yunho's voice echoed in the room.
"I know I usually let everyone out there have a chance to make a wish, but I really need to use the time to make one for myself tonight," he began as he choked back tears. "(Y/N) is missing. She's missing and I'm pretty sure her stalker has her. I'm posting a photo of him now, but if anyone sees Colin Rutherford, call the police immediately."
"Yunho..." you cried as you held the radio to your chest. You should've known he'd realize right away what happened.
"And as for my wish? I wish to see my best friend again...alive and happy."
You sobbed and clutched the device like a lifeline. If Yunho was out there searching, you knew he wouldn't stop until you were found.
————————————————————————————
"Rise and shine!" Colin shouted as he banged a spoon against a pot before dropping it to the ground in front of you. In it was oatmeal...plain and gross-looking oatmeal.
"Careful, it's cold," he joked as he sat in the chair across from you to watch you grimace through every bite. Outside the train clattered by, making the lightbulb swing from its closeness.
"How'd you sleep?" he asked as he kicked his feet up onto one of the tool cabinets.
"Like you care," you retorted.
"I resent that," he scoffed. "I gave you fresh clothes and made you breakfast, didn't I? I even let you listen to your boy wonder last night."
You took another disgusting bite and fought the bile rising in your throat. You'd need strength if you had any chance of getting out of this alive.
"He's kind of pathetic though, isn't he? Crying on air?" he sneered. "Yikes. Not hot at all."
"He's not pathetic. He's hurt," you argued. "What's pathetic is kidnapping someone because you suck at making friends and getting women the legal way. Tell me, is this going the way you planned?"
Colin stood and walked forward to tower over you. He could do anything and nobody was there to stop it, so you braced yourself for pain...a kick or a slap...but instead he clenched his teeth and fist. "You're a real bitch, aren't you?"
"No I'm..." you began, but you felt so dizzy you couldn't finish your thought. "What's happening to me?"
Colin helped guide you to lie on the floor, a devious smile dancing on his lips. "Didn't your mother ever teach you not to take food from strangers?"
————————————————————————————
You woke up feeling groggy. You were still in the same room in the same clothes with the same radio on the same station. Colin wasn't there anymore but he'd left a bag on the table.
You stood to examine it and nearly fell over from the dizziness. Instead, you crawled, hand and knees shaking through every inch until you finally reached the bag and tugged it to the floor.
Inside were a few toiletry items and a receipt from Lou's Drug Store. He must've knocked you out so you wouldn't try to escape while he wasn't there. You tore through the bag and changed your underwear and brushed your teeth. He'd had a bucket in the corner for you to use for days but with toilet paper in hand, you finally permitted yourself to pee.
You felt dehumanized but you had enough hope to hold onto when Yunho's show began again. Maybe the hope was the worst part... without it maybe you'd be strong enough to take the bag over your face until you couldn't breathe anymore...but the hope made you sip some water and listen to the songs that felt too happy play in the little room.
You had to turn up the volume when the train passed by again, but a loud Yunho was better than no Yunho.
"For those just tuning in, this is You Know Yunho. We received a few calls about a man matching the description of Colin Rutherford leaving a convenience store earlier today. We're still tracking any whereabouts of (Y/N)'s green Honda Civic or Colin's last known address. If you have any tips for me, please call in, or call the police," Yunho pleaded, asking the public for help instead of the other way around.
"You'd better make that toothpaste last," Colin said from the doorway, his voice slicing through the air and sending chills down your spine. "Your boy wonder has everyone looking for me."
"Of course he does," you answered, imagining Yunho worried for you at all hours of the night. "He won't stop until I'm found because he's a good person."
"So he can send hundreds of people to stalk me but I'm the one who gets arrested? What a fucked up system," he complained with an annoyed shake of his head.
"Looking for me isn't stalking, Colin. It's saving."
"Saving? Fine, you save him then. Convince him you're okay or I'll kill him," he threatened.
"What?" you asked, eyes wide and heart stuttering as more fear ran through you than ever before.
"We're calling the Wish Line and you're going to convince him that you're fine, got it?"
"I can't...he'll see right through me, Colin. Just let him keep looking. He won't find us, I swear," you begged.
"Then put on a good show," he taunted. "We go live in 7."
Colin left for a little bit but returned with a cracked prepaid phone. It looked like it had been run over by a car, but somehow he was still able to make it dial. You listened for the familiar sound of Yunho's voice, but Colin pulled the phone away right when he answered to warn you again, "Don't try anything, got it?"
You gulped nervously but nodded just as he returned the phone to your ear.
"Hello?" Yunho said as if he'd repeated it a few times.
"Hi, Yu. It's me," you began, tears streaming down your cheeks. You missed him more than anything, and honestly hadn't thought you'd get to talk to him ever again.
"(Y/N)," he breathed, voice shaking already. "Are you okay? Where are you?"
"I'm okay," you lied, the words falling from your lips just as a train passed by. You had to plug your other ear just to hear him.
"Where are you? I'll come get you," he offered. It was clear he hadn't believed you but knew better than to argue.
"Sorry, can you repeat that? The train is really loud," you said, hoping he'd take the hint. You were by a railroad...or beneath one from the sounds of it.
Colin didn't catch onto your comment, and instead urged you to hang up.
"I have to go," you whispered, obeying orders since it was what would keep you both safe. "But stop looking for me, Yu. Okay?"
"I can't," he begged. "I need to see you again (Y/N). I can't just let him take you away from us."
"I wish nothing more than to do another Friday Night Lights special at Bulldog field with you, but we can't," you cried. "You have to let me go."
Yunho sucked back a sob and replied, "Your wish is my command," before hanging up.
"Great!" Colin clapped his hands together cheerfully. "Now we see if boy wonder can take a hint...and leave us alone."
You prayed he could...because Yunho knew better than anyone how much you hated that football segment. But that school was by the train tracks, and Lou's was right nearby. It gave him a starting point that he and the cops would work their way out from. The train was the biggest clue, though. You just wished there was a window or something you could use to see even the slightest sliver of outside to help guide him should you get another chance to call.
————————————————————————————
For three seconds after the call, Yunho said nothing. He played the next song without a segment sign-off and crossed the room where his producer was sitting by the soundboard with his hand over his mouth in shock.
"She hates Friday Night Lights," he mumbled to himself as he paced back and forth trying to figure out why you'd mentioned it.
"What?"
"She hates that segment. She thinks the students are obnoxious and the parents are pushy since they're always trying to get their kid spotlighted. She even hates the way the train drowns out her voice so she has to hold the mic super close to her mouth..." Yunho paused his walking and glanced up with wide eyes. "The train. There's a train by Eastridge. And a Lou's."
"You don't think..."
"I've gotta go!" Yunho shouted, already dialing the police as his producer shouted behind him.
"What about the show?"
"You do it!" Yunho called back as he ran out the door and jumped into his car. He told the police what he knew and went against their orders to stand down. He was going to find you if it was the last thing he did.
————————————————————————————
The train drove overhead again, and Colin watched as you perked your ears to listen. He squinted at you as if assessing why your behavior had suddenly changed before he grunted and tossed the radio to the ground, plastic pieces flying everywhere.
You gasped and tried to run away, shoving him off once he straddled you to the ground. "What did you do?" he fought as you tried to get free before finally sealing his hand over your throat. "You mentioned the school...why?"
"I was just...thinking about work," you lied as you gagged for air. "I didn't know what else to say."
"Liar!" he screamed. "Why the fuck did you mention the school?"
The train's roar faded into the distance. With it came the anxious sound of Yunho's voice cutting through the night. "(Y/N)!" he called. "(Y/N)! Where are you?"
Colin slammed your head against the concrete. Blood began to pool and your eyes fluttered shut as you tried to hold on to Yunho's voice. "I'm here," you called out, voice weak from the lack of oxygen you were still recovering from.
————————————————————————————
Warm. Everything was warm when you woke up.
The room was lit by a bright fluorescent bulb and the bed beneath you was covered in blankets. You sank into them with a contented hum, the sound drawing a snoring Yunho from his chair.
"Hey," he cried as he looked into your eyes for the first time in days. "How do you feel?"
"I never thought I'd rather be at a football game," you complained with a wince. Your head hurt like hell and everywhere felt limp.
"How did I get out?" you asked. It was then that you noticed the gash in Yunho's cheek that had clearly been stitched up recently.
"I found you," he said. "Don't worry," he began upon seeing the worry in your features. "The police showed up before he could mess me up too bad."
"Yunho..." you whimpered, holding in all of the crying you'd kept in for days. "Thank you."
"You wished to be saved. I couldn't leave you down there," he smiled softly, careful not to touch anywhere that you were hurt, though he still held your hand. You were about to ask how he knew where you were when his expression shifted from relief to anger. In one instant he was looking at you so softly you felt like a cloud and in another, he was crying with darkened eyes. “You promised me you’d stay safe, (Y/N). Do you have any idea how terrifying it was to know he had you? To know there was nothing I could do?”
“I know,” you replied through tears. “I was afraid, too. I was so careful, Yu. I walked to the car with my keys in my fist. I checked between every car and listened for every footstep, but I couldn’t have planned for him to be in my car.”
Yunho fell to his knees and kissed your hand, letting all of the emotions he’d held back come spilling out. He’d been so strong for you, just as you had for him. You urged him to stand and pulled him into bed with you to hold him, to let his familiar frame encompass you after such a horrible few days.
“I got the call this morning that he is pleading guilty,” Yunho said with a kiss to your forehead. “I’ll go with you to the deposition, but he’s going to be put away for a long time.”
“Unless he gets out again,” you frowned, fearing that the system would let you down again.
Yunho exhaled and held you closer before resting his cheek on your head to tuck you beneath his chin. “They got him on murder (Y/N). He’s not getting out.”
You froze. Your blood ran cold and you were sure you’d forgotten to breathe. The heart rate monitor behind you was going crazy, but Yunho reminded you to inhale, walking through the motions with you until you could listen.
“M-Murder?” you stuttered.
“He killed the owner of the house,” Yunho explained. “I’m so glad you didn’t know, baby. It was horrifying. You’ve been through enough.”
You tried to process everything that was just said. Your brain jumped from image to image of gruesome, gory deaths, but one word stuck out among them all. “Baby?”
Even Yunho couldn’t hold back the little laugh that left his lips. “That’s what you got from all that?”
You shrugged and nuzzled closer, deciding that all of the bad stuff could be dissected another time. “Say it again.”
Yunho kissed the top of your head and stroked his hand down your back as you drifted back to sleep. “I’ve got you, baby. You’re safe now.”
————————————————————————————
It had been 5 days.
5 days since Yunho rescued you.
5 days of being afraid to be alone and forcing him to stay in your studio apartment with you.
5 days of having food delivered and refusing to open the door until they were halfway down the hall.
Yunho watched with pity and pride at the way you had adapted to these new fears. Pity for the woman who couldn’t just live anymore…and pride that despite all the horrible things you were still there and still trying.
You settled into the couch beside him, offering him his caffeine fix just as he clicked on the news. The story about your kidnapping replayed every few minutes and you quickly changed channels to watch some stupid, brainless reality show instead.
“I wonder if Chad and Michayla will end up together,” you wondered as Yunho observed the shakiness of your hand thanks to the neighbor’s dog that had begun barking in the hallway. It was the newest perk of your post-Colin life. Panic at every little sound.
“I thought we wanted her to be with Cooper,” he reminded you.
“No,” you said with a mouthful of decaf. “Cooper was caught kissing Tiffany H on the last episode, remember?”
“Oh right,” he mumbled, clearly uninterested in the drama on the island.
You set your takeout down and turned to him, trying to figure out what was wrong. “Are you mad at me?”
“No, of course not,” he answered immediately, which meant he was being honest. “I just…you haven’t really talked about what happened,” he said in a quiet voice as if he were afraid to scare you off.
You turned the tv down, allowing the neon swimsuits to flash silently onto the screen. “Colin happened, Yunho. He reminded me that I wasn’t safe no matter how much I tried and I just don’t want to pop the bubble we’re in yet. I know I can’t stay forever in this little 440 square foot box, but I’m not ready to be beyond it yet.”
“I understand, (Y/N),” he answered gently. “But I just want to make sure you’re not ignoring your feelings and hoping they’ll go away.”
“I wish they would,” you whispered, hoping beyond hope that Yunho could genie your way out of having to remember what it was like to be on edge and scared for your life every second of every day.
He reached for you and pulled you to sit against his chest. His hand snaked around your waist, and you let yourself be held by him. In his arms was where you felt the safest.
“If I could take it all away, I would,” he sighed. “You deserve so much more than what you went through.”
“Maybe one day I’ll be able to grant your wish,” you said in a quiet voice. “Maybe one day I’ll be happy…alive and happy.”
“You will,” he promised. “And until then, I’ll be here to remind you that your life didn’t end in that basement.”
“It feels like it did,” you reminded him, the image of snapping shears making you on edge.
“I know it does,” he muttered. “But it didn’t. And you’ll realize that soon enough.”
You felt so lucky to have Yunho to support you. He wouldn’t give up until you came back emotionally just as you had physically. Until then, you could at least pretend things were better by resting against his chest and letting his heart steady yours. You were grateful it was softer than the roar of the train…and yet it was so much stronger.
You’d only just shut your eyes when Yunho’s whisper broke through the silence.
“It’s 11:11,” he informed you with a kiss. “Want to make a wish?”
You stirred and turned into his neck with a kiss, realizing that he’d somehow carried you to bed without waking you. “I wish I could erase the past,” you said, exhaling in contentment when he kissed your forehead.
“I wish for healing. I wish that the past could stay in the past so you could move on and be happy.”
Yunho was always selfless with his wishes.
“I wish I could be happy, too,” you yawned. It was the first time you’d wished for something new, and you could feel his heart flutter at the words.
“See,” he hummed as he squeezed you tighter. “You’re making progress already.”
Warnings : Mxm, overstimulation, edging, ruined orgasms, a lot of cum, slight hentai, teasing, fleshlights, fuck machine.
Summary : Seonghwa uses a fuck machine equipped with a fleshlight that is synced to his game and Yunho catches him in the act. He is curious and invites himself in, testing out his friend's new purchase.
Seonghwa made a new purchase a few days ago and he is waiting for the notification to pop up on his phone, indicating is package to be delivered. Checking his screen every few seconds while biting his nails, the handsome man is growing more impatient the longer time flies by. "Why is it taking so long? 'Should have been delivered over two hours ago."
A sigh escapes his parted lips for the hundredth time this evening, Seonghwa hopes he will be able to relieve himself today at least. Before he can let out a desperate groan, a knock is heard throughout the dorm and as he stands up, the boy almost trips over his own feet from how fast he moves.
He has never reached the front door so quickly, ready to bet the entirety of his wealth that it could even beat a world record. The box is snatched the next moment and brought to be delicately placed on his desk.
Now that it's finally here, he almost feels too ecstatic to even open the package. Various emotions travel throughout his body and mind, thrilled to finally have the opportunity to try his new possession, but also a bit anxious. Many questions concerning him all of a sudden like; Will it work? Is it loud, if it is then will the others hear it? Should he wait until everyone's asleep?
Seonghwa contemplates his choices and thoughts very carefully, because he doesn't want to end up in an awkward situation. "I'll just open it now."
He slices through the tape and opens the box to find another medium sized package, there are some images and writings covering it that makes Seonghwa's ears burn with shame. He kind of feels dirty for buying such things and he wouldn't be caught dead with them.
Inside is a pack of fleshlights with different shapes and lengths, seonghwa opens it clumsily to find four of them safely tucked between a velvet protection. There are holes cut perfectly for each of them and it is obviously top quality, which is exactly what the boy paid for.
He bought the best rated pack on a sex toy website and made sure to read thoroughly before purchasing. They are made of silicone and were carefully designed to reproduce the texture as similar to skin as possible, Seonghwa can proudly admit that it does feel pretty real.
He fingers each cock sleeve meticulously, imagining his own cock being stimulated instead. The man chooses one in particular, the one he'll use first, it's clear and Seonghwa can already picture the way is dick will look when he fucks it. The fleshlight is tight and the inner part is covered in little bumps and detailed ridges that rub his skin deliciously.
"Ww-wow." He has to force himself to let go and put it aside to analyze the rest of the package's content. The second item is a tall bottle of lube, the size definitely necessary for what Seonghwa has in mind and he smiles shyly as he sets it on his desk.
The next thing is a sort of fuck machine. It's actually more of a metal arm with a clamp so it can be fixed to any thin and flat surfaces, the other end is a kind of cylindric grip so that you can put any fleshlight in. It's designed so the fleshlight is fixed and can be adjusted to a tighter or loser grip, depending on preferences and sizes.
The mechanism of the machine goes up and down, recreating the movement such as a hand, mouth or genitals. Different speeds can be set or as Seonghwa planned, there is a special feature adapted for syncing to a game.
Seonghwa opens and sets it all up, syncing the machine to his already opened tab, the screen displaying a hentai game he has been wanting to try for a while. He also watched porn videos of a guy who plays it and uses a machine like he is about to try, it's actually how he got the idea in the first place.
"Alright, here we go." Once synced, he turns it on to make sure it works and watches in awe, cock swelling in his pants from how erotic the sight is. Before he ends up drooling, Seonghwa turns it off and while he gathers everything he needs, very dirty thoughts appear in his head.
Seonghwa sits on his chair and rolls forward, adjusting the machine so he can attach the fleshy toy to the grip part. He takes a few deep breaths before unzipping his pants with trembling fingers, quickly becoming a panting mess because of how turned on he is.
"Oh fuck." The boy curses under his breath and groans when he overs the silicone toy to the tip of his now hard dick, tightening the grip surrounding the fleshlight fixed between the clamp. Seonghwa gulps in anticipation, tummy fluttering in excitement.
Wrapping his hand around the base of his cock, he inserts himself inside slowly, by pulling onto the metallic arm and lowering it. He penetrates until the tip of his dick comes out at the other side, moaning as it feels so pleasurable already. Seonghwa sits back further in his gaming chair, legs shaking pathetically under the weight of his body.
He trusts shallowly, but with haste and whine as pre-cum spurts out of his slit. The feeling of the fake pussy wrapping around his sensitive head making him throb, overwhelming him faster than he would have thought.
He carefully pushes the whole way in again and whimpers as it squeezes him just right. Seonghwa adjusts the tightness further, until it fits him snuggly and positions the machine with his heart pumping hard against his chest. He pants from the excitement of the upcoming pleasure. "Ah-ah."
Seonghwa fully syncs his game to the toy and leans back, controller in clammy hands. He begins the first stage right away and almost loses his mind from how good it feels. The fleshlight moves up and down slowly and very subtly while he moves around in the game and shoots enemies.
Each time he uses the gun, the toy jerks him in short and quick movements. With his head being all fuzzy and barely able to concentrate on anything else other than the fake hole gripping his leaking cock tightly, Seonghwa hunches over, digging his nails into one of his thighs.
He fights against a few naked monsters and gets taken down, the screen shows his character getting fucked by a tall girl with tentacles, her pussy sucking in the artificial cock in sync with the fleshlight. Her tentacles are playing with his nipples and Seomghwa pinches his own to make it more realistic.
Right now, the man is insanely glad to have made this purchase and he can't wait to be able to try it for many times to come, even though he's still just starting to use it for the first time. Seonghwa is already imagining endless scenarios of fucking the fleshlights or getting fucked by them.
The way the silicone sucks in his dick repeatedly, is better than some of the pussy he's had till now. He feels every ridge and bump along the toy and it massages his length just right, so precisely that his eyes roll back and his body doesn't feel like his. "Holy fucking hel-"
Seonghwa is swimming through the deep amount of pleasure the fleshlight brings him, he enjoys each second with delight. On top of that, the tip of his cock keeps being rubbed by the other entry. With every stroke of the machine, his lower stomach burns hotter and it's only a matter of seconds before he reaches his peak.
"Ugh- Ahh!" Seonghwa chokes on a moan, his cock getting pumped so well that he drops the controller onto the floor, cumming all over himself and it shoots out all the way to his computer screen and his face. He ejaculated prematurely, barely 5 minutes in.
But the mechanic arm gets stuck in place, the fleshlight squeezing his cock at the base and staying immobile. Seonghwa's climax isn't satisfying at all and he it angers him so much, that he couldn't ride it out until there was no sperm left in his balls.
Right now, it feels like he is in a worse position than he was before, the ruined orgasm only having made him more pant up. Seonghwa thinks he might go crazy if he doesn't empty his balls fully and soon.
Then out of nowhere, it turns on again and the character on his computer gets approached by a tiny elf. The boy, having not paid attention to his game after the unfair event, suddenly picks up the controller from the floor and tries to move out of the way.
Seonghwa seems to be continuing with his bad luck and it's too late, the elf caught him. The fuck machine becomes crazy, fucking the pocket pussy on his rock hard cock mercilessly. It mirrors the scene rolling onto the screen and Seonghwa arches against the chair, unable to stay still.
The tiny elf is being held by his character and forcefully being pushed down onto his dick. Her much smaller body bouncing and being penetrated until her stomach is bulging.
He attempts to turn the toy off, but it doesn't work and Seonghwa ends up being overstimulated, completely overwhelmed, both from the pleasure and the graphic images playing in front of him. He shakes hard and his cock keeps twitching, his hips jerking away from the intense pleasure. "Oh~ God!"
Unfortunately he fails to escape the stimulation and a powerful orgasm crashes through him, sending him traveling through another dimension. A guttural groan escapes from deep within his chest as thick ropes of cum spurt out of his spent cock and Seonghwa shivers through it, the orgasm hitting him hard.
Yunho who was asleep in his room, woke up to the sound of someone visibly in pain. He comes out in the hallway to investigate and notices they're from Seonghwa's room. He listens in for any call for help, but when he hears another groan, much louder this time, Yunho doesn't hesitate to burst through the door.
Although what he finds isn't his friend in need of help, but him ejaculating everywhere while he's being milked by some type of machine. Yunho is in shock, this was the last thing he was expecting.
The light of the hall makes Seonghwa whip his head around in a flash, but the tall silhouette hugging the frame sends him panicking. He desperately tries to stop the toy and cries from too much pleasure, although the main reason for his outburst is the presence of his younger friend.
He is deeply ashamed and feels sick to his stomach, only just being able to imagine how the other boy must be feeling. Yunho on the other hand, is not disgusted, nor he is uncomfortable with the situation, it just caught him off guard is all.
He watches his hyung struggle with the machine, trying to push it away, turn it off, hands flapping around in utter desperation. Nothing puts an end to both the mental and physical torture, that is until Yunho steps up next to him and magically turns it off in a single attempt.
Seonghwa shutters once the intense waves of pleasure and pain disappear from his body, sobbing quietly in relief, but also from the fear of losing one of his dearest friends. Now that his mind seems a bit clearer, he can finally form more coherent thoughts and the reality of the situation is worse than expected. "Yu-yunho?"
Yunho is deaf to the sound of Seonghwa's voice, hypnotised by the sticky substance splattered everywhere near the setup. His gaze his locked onto his target and he reaches over with his fingers to play with seonghwa's cum. "You came a lot Hyung."
Seonghwa's breath hitches at the unexpected comment, he nervously watches Yunho run his fingers along his softening shaft and the toy, gathering his cum on his slender fingers, completely unfazed. The oldest is suddenly shy under the other's strong presence, the way he boldly takes charge setting butterflies to erupt in his stomach.
"Sit on the bed while I have fun with your little fuck machine." Seonghwa obeys immediately, sliding his soft dick out of the toy, the squelching noise adding to his embarrassment.
Yunho is so fucking turned on that he almost throws himself onto the gaming chair, not losing a second before unzipping his jeans and tugging his length out expertly. He is interrupted by Seonghwa during his attempt to insert himself inside the fleshlight, his friend handing him the bottle of lube. "No need, it's already prepped all for me."
A confused Seonghwa quickly chokes on his own saliva when the realisation hits and he watches in awe as Yunho penetrates his rock hard cock into the fake pussy, the half dried cum being used as lube. "Shit!"
Yunho pushes start and the game continues where it was left off, shooting sexy monsters and trying to level up. It isn't long before Seonghwa cock becomes stiff again and a small surge of courage curses through him, pushing him to caress the tip of Yunho's cock when it sticks out of the fleshlight.
"Oh. Oh." Yunho hunches forward in pleasure. Being fucked by the machine is already pretty intense, but the pad of Seonghwa's soft fingers dragging along his most sensitive part is what almost sends him over the edge. His friend lets out a breathy laugh, enjoying his reactions.
"Hyung. If you don't play nice, I won't either." Yunho warns while panting heavily, leaving Seonghwa taken aback. He wasn't trying to tease the other, the curiosity got the best of him, but hearing the playful threat, the boy considers pushing Yunho's limits.
He decides against it when he catches a glimpse of the pleased expression on the other's face, guessing he might be close from how his eyebrows crunches up and mouth becomes slack. Seonghwa observes every little reaction coming from the youngest, listening to his moans and groans filled with pleasure. "That's it, just let go."
Seonghwa squeezes the other's thigh, giving him a sort of reassurance. Yunho cums the moment his older friend touches him, but as cum spurts out messily, the fleshlight malfunctions. It stops entirely, again. "Oh- ff-fuck No! Mmh-f-"
While he is still orgasming, Yunho can't control himself, almost breaking the chair from how hard he fucks into the toy. He rides out his high, but without much satisfaction. The frustration is evident on his face and Seonghwa helps him out of the toy, taking over the reins while Yunho catches his breath.
The youngest is being pulled onto the bed, following Seonghwa and getting on top of the other. He is eager to kiss his friend as Seonghwa presses his lips against his, Yunho quickly shakes off the residues of the mostly ruined orgasm and leads the kiss.
They have the hottest makeout session, Yunho pushing the other's legs open and pressing his hips against Seonghwa's, both moaning in each other's mouth. Seonghwa bucks up in sync with Yunho's thrusts and their cocks rub together so deliciously that drool runs down the corner of the oldest boy's mouth, the youngest biting into his shoulder only adding to the pleasure. "M'close don't stop please~"
Then he stops and Seonghwa almost crashes out, knowing how Yunho loves to tease him. He hides into the crook of his elbow, an embarrassing sting burning behind his closed eyelids. He feels Yunho's weight disappear and the bed dipping soon after, curiosity winning over his pride and he peeks out with teary eyes.
"Thought we could make use of it. Wouldn't it be hot if we fucked this tight pussy together?" Seonghwa gasps, astonished, Yunho is much more dirty minded than he imagined. Quickly, he nods once noticing how the boy waits for his consent.
Yunho straddles him in one swift motion, getting their cocks positioned next to one another. Seonghwa's stomach flutters in excitement, anticipating the pure bliss he is about to experience with one of his closest friends.
The boy on top of him takes ahold of both their erected dicks and aligns them to the entrance of the fleshlight, building up the suspense by only letting the tips poking inside. "Yes please~ please fuck me."
Seonghwa keeps begging Yunho as he teases both of the leaking cocks, mercilessly torturing the heads by rubbing the hole over them. The boy pretends to be about to fuck the pussy onto the shafts, but only shallowly sucking a little more of the lengths inside before taking away the pleasure.
Seonghwa is shaking when Yunho finally lowers the fleshlight onto their cocks, crying out in harmony with the other's groans. Pre-cum dribbles out of their slits, leaking like broken faucets. "I'm fucking close."
"Me t-Ahh. Fuck!" Seonghwa arches up, releasing unexpectedly. His cum shoots out all the way to his chest and some even reach his lower face. Yunho moans, the erotic scene pushes him closer to his peak. He leans down and licks the cum splattered on the other's face, humming as the salty taste hits his taste buds. "Y'taste good Hyung! Could suck your cock till there's nothing left."
"I c-can't~" Seonghwa whines, overwhelmed to a point where he can barely speak. The crude words Yunho uses, make him twitch, or maybe it's the overstimulation on his abused cock.
His friend still hasn't cum yet and he is jerking them off at a fast pace, the tight grip creating a precise and intense suction which is starting to make Seonghwa lightheaded. Yunho ignores his pleas and chases his own high while unknowingly pushing the other over his own limits. "Your cock feels so good rubbing against mine."
Yunho's orgasm follows soon after, riding it out by thrusting his cock inside the pocket pussy instead of sliding it up and down. His cum spurts out all over Seonghwa while he still rubs their cocks together, both of them in deep pleasure.
Especially Seonghwa who damn near loses his mind as he squirts all over himself, clear liquid bursts out from his tip. It comes out in jets, timed with Yunho's eagerly moving hips.
"Holy shit!" Yunho watches Seonghwa writhe under him, slowing down his thrusts until they're both finished. The after waves of his orgasms make the oldest completely limp, panting softly as he comes down from the high. Yunho on the other hand, recovers pretty fast and he takes advantage of his state to get a warm towel and clean Seonghwa.
He waits for the other to gain back full consciousness and once Seonghwa opens his eyes, he squishes his face against his pillow, a shy smile appearing on his lips which makes Yunho chuckle. "I hope it was as good for you as it was for me."
cw; MDNI, ot8, why choose, dom!ot8, power play, mentions of passing around, bratting, CNC, sharing, knife mention, degrading, enemies to lovers.
word count; 1.7k
AN; inspired by concept 3 GH:4 photos, will be a chapter fic if I can remember to update! not affiliated with ATEEZ - all fictional.
--
chapter one
Midnight clung to the city, towers of steel reflecting in the fractured light. Neon signs flickered along the rundown buildings, the odd hologram glitching in the desolate alleyways. Breath tore in your lungs as you ran, sirens wailed in the distance, hot on your trail. Every muscle was burning at each step you took, adrenaline carrying you further and further out of the zone of safety. Then again, was it even safe within the city walls? No. And that's why you were fleeing. Escaping from the control that ground emotions into ash; hostile and cold. No room for mistakes. Follow the rules or face the punishment. Step out of line, subjected to death.
Skidding to a halt, your feet dug into the muddied threshold of the forest that lined the city. If you did it, if you crossed the line and ventured into the the unknown, the out of bound terrority; there would be no going back. The sirens were getting louder, screeching through the darkness. Taking a deep breath, filling your already searing lungs, you let your feet sink into the earth on the opposite side of the line. Firmly planting yourself on the outskirts of the city, ripping yourself free from a life of pain, suffering and death.
Turning your back on everything you knew, you ventured into the dark forest that lay in front of you. Salt infiltrated your senses, riding the the breeze that rippled through the trees. Despite the ocean being miles away, it always had a way of making its presence known. Time was lost on you, unaware of what direction you were heading in, darkness blending everything in front of you into a blur of murky gloom.
Long before you realised, the tree's had started to thin out, large branches lay askew across the moss covered floor. Night sky visible now the canopy of trees had been reduced to nothing. For a moment, you were caught up in the view above you. Stars twinkled in the deep inky blue, a rare sight to behold. Something you'd never seen in the city. Always blocked out by the concrete architecture and drones. Forcing yourself to leave the forest, you edged forward, eyes still stuck on the stars.
Casting your eyes downward, ice seeping through your chest as you stood in the shadows of the looming structure. Wind whistled around you cutting sharp as every single instinct inside of you was screaming to turn around, to run in the opposite direction.
Symbols etched into the wrought iron walls, rust and paint flaking off the gates that contained the main characters of the horror stories you'd been told.
Outcasts. Outlaws. Pirates.
Running was your only option. Turn around and pretending you had never stumbled across the danger that was in your sight. Willing your feet to move, to unstick themselves from the mud they were sinking into. Just as you were ready to bolt, movement in the shadows caught your attention.
Fear raked its way up your throat, silencing any other noise you wanted to make. Paralyzed by panic, regret starting to ooze through your veins. Maybe you should have stayed where you were, continued your miserable life under the control of the emotionless monsters.
Reality was, you knew what lay in the city. Accustomed to the sorrow and grief. But here? In the claws of the savage and bloodthirsty pirates that were used as warnings to stay within the city's boundaries. You had no idea what they were truly capable of you.
But you were about to find out.
--
Steel bit into the skin of your wrists, hands bound behind your back as you were marched through a courtyard of destruction. Fragments of metal, wood and other materials you couldn't make out were strewn across the cobbled stones. Some kind of attempt to build some kind of weapon-
Pushed forward by calloused hands, feet tripping over themselves, you were hauled into the depths of the building. Silhouettes projected onto the cracked walls, glow emitting from candles lining the hallways.
Air shifting around you, thick with something you couldn't put your finger on. Hand connecting with your shoulder blade as you were roughly shoved through an open door, balance wobbling at the force you were pushed.
Silence.
Deafening and uncomfortable silence.
All the stories you had been fed for years, the fear propaganda that had been pumped through every hologram and megaphone, the posters of the most wanted and dangerous criminals littering the city; all of that still hadn't prepared you for what you were facing now.
Eight of them in front of you.
Eight different ways to die.
"I didn't mean to trespass- it wasn't on purpose-"
Words streamed out of your mouth, covered in pure panic as you tried to defend yourself. Insides churning at high speed, all the ways of them disposing of you flashing through your mind. Every set of eyes was on you. Despite not knowing any of them personally, you knew their names, only because they had been whispered as warnings.
Leaning forward, their leader- no, their Captain, spoke.
"Speak up, little intruder."
Eyebrow arched slightly as he waited for you to repeat yourself. Amusement braiding into his tone, causing your lungs to constrict.
"She's scared, Joong. Poor little thing is trembling."
A different voice murmured from behind Hongjoong, no sympathy in their tone, more so just noting your appearance. Seonghwa placed his hands lightly on Hongjoong's shoulders as he spoke.
Right hand man. That's what you had learned about Park Seonghwa. Bond that was unbreakable with his Captain. Loyal as they came.
"It's cute, Hwa."
Was all he replied with, sinking subtly into the other man's touch. Unbridled terror was engraving itself on every inch of your skin, the inevitable lurking on the sidelines. This was just their idea of foreplay before they executed you.
"What shall we do with her, Captain?"
Immediately your gaze snapped to the person moving from his position next to Seonghwa, approaching you with a confidence that was irritating by all means.
Yunho. That was the name your mind mumbled.
Feet from you, he extended the hand that was firmly clasped around the handle of a sword. Tip of the blade skimmed the base of your throat, causing your body to stiffen. Lips curled into a satisfying smirk at the hitch of your breath.
"Maybe she needs to be taught a lesson, a reminder on why she shouldn't trespass onto other people's property."
Nudiging the blade deeper into your flesh, nicking it enough to allow a small cut to form. Blood trickled down your neck, causing Yunho's eyes to darken with a small glimmer of victory. Fingers gripping the handle harder, he twisted the blade against the open cut, eliciting a gasp from you.
"Yunho."
As if he'd been electrocuted, Yunho's hand withdrew the sword from your neck, letting it hang limply at his side. Casting a hard glance over his shoulder, he was met with a cautionary glare from one of the other members. Mingi. Seconds passed as Yunho debated his next move, reluctantly obeying the warning he'd been given. Retreating from you, instead of re-joining Seonghwa's side, he stood next to Mingi.
"Always the softer one."
Annoyance simmered in his retort to Mingi, but it fell on deaf ears. Or, Mingi chose to ignore his friends snarky jab.
"What if she begged for mercy?"
A change in your demeanour was striking as the question hung in the air. Involuntarily, your eyes narrowed at the person who had suggested such a diablocal iea.
Wooyoung.
"I don't beg."
Nothing but defiance and irritation flowed through you, evoking a reaction from Wooyoung that shouldn't have been surprising. Moving from his seated position, he drew nearer to you, excitement gleaming in his eyes.
"Is that right, princess?"
A challenge. A dare.
"Yes."
Stubborn part of your brain had overrode the rational, terrified, compliant side of you. Hissing out the one word answer, your wrists tensing against the biting steel that were still binding your hands.
Success washed over his face as a slender finger swiped along the trail of blood Yunho had left on your throat.
"I think we just found our new toy, Cap."
All fire that had been ignited inside of you at the insinuation you should beg, was now completely extinguished. Wooyoung licked the blood from his finger, circling you before securing himself behind you. Hands clamped down on your cuffed wrists, tugged you back into his chest, chin resting on your shoulder. Forcing you to look at the other seven, he murmured a statement.
"Whatever Captain says, goes."
Hongjoong pursed his lips, taking onboard Wooyoung's suggestion. Turning his gaze to both Yeosang and Jongho, waiting for their input before moving on.
"She seems sincere, Joong."
Yeosang spoke with smooth belief that I was telling the truth.
"Sangie makes a good point. She wasn't armed, it's not like she came here for something."
Aggravated groan came from Yunho as he rolled his eyes.
"You think everything is boring if it doesn't involve some kind of sexual pleasure. Same as Wooyoungie."
An exasperated sigh came from San as he shook his head. Sympathy radiated from him as he made brief eye contact with you.
"Enough." Joong barked, raising his hand to silence the rest of his crew. Placing his hat onto his head, he rose from his chair and made his way over to you. Wooyoung still resting his chin on your shoulder, fingers tauntingly tracing over your cuffed wrists.
"Seems we've come to a decision, love."
Joong hummed, tilting his head as he drank in the sight of you.
"Choice is yours. Who do you want to start with?"
It was as if someone had dumped an ice cold bucket of water of your head. You were frozen to the spot, every fibre of your being was short circuiting.
"Regardless of who you start with, we will all get our turn."
Back of Hongjoong's hand trailed down your cheek, skin prickling at his touch.
"Who is it then, jagiya? Who are you letting fuck you first?"
Wooyoung's breath hot in your ear as he chuckled. Moments passed and then a name left your mouth in a whisper of defeat.
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
✿ summary: the new student who has caught your eye just so happens to not be a student at all, but a professor. and a dad. and you seem to have caught his eye, too.
✿ warnings/tags: MDNI! 18+, explicit, smut, oral sex (f receiving), unprotected sex (u know what im gonna say), respectful wholesome sweetie jjong (at the beginning... hehe), jongho is a DILF, jongho is 7 years older than reader, reader is in her last semester of college, jongho is a TEASE, uncle yeosang appearance, yes the professor out sick is intended to be yunho SUE ME
✿ pairing: dilf!professor!jongho x fem!unistudent!reader
✿ author’s note: thank you to this ask for this idea ! this was a challenge for me considering i rarely read/write a professor trope but i ended up having so much fun with it! this was also my first time writing in a bulleted style and i really loved it, i would love to do more of these in the future. AND this was my first time writing our baby bear so i hope i did our ribos proud! any kind feedback is welcome ˙ᵕ˙ enjoy !!
you’d been seeing this mystery man around campus for weeks now, drawn to how put together and powerful his presence is.
he’s always wearing sweaters of deep hues, paired with dark slacks that deliciously hug his muscular thighs.
he seems to have a lot of classes in the same building as you, but you only ever see him in passing or in the building’s cafe. he must be a transfer, considering this is your last semester of university and you’ve never seen him before
hearing his name called out at the cafe was one way to put a name to this beautiful man’s face, but you wished you’d heard it from his pretty mouth
one day, you decide to let your curiosity get the better of you after your last class of the day, and when you spot him walking down the hallway, you decide to follow him.
you trail at a respectful distance as he turns down the administrative corridor, and to any passersby you’re just on your way to a meeting with an advisor, like he must be
to your surprise, he pulls a ring of keys out of his pocket as he approaches an office door, and unlocks it himself. an office door littered with children’s drawings.
so… not a student. a professor. and a dad?… hot.
you’d never noticed a ring on his finger in your passings, so he must be single. right?
the next morning, you walk into your first class of the day to see him standing at the podium
“good morning, students,” his warm voice booms over the lecture hall.
”professor jeong is sick today and asked me to guide you through this week’s lecture, i’m professor choi, but you all can call me jongho.”
as you thought, his name sounds beautiful out of his own mouth
his eyes scan the crowd of students, lingering on yours longer than you’d expect, and he grins before moving on
“appa!” a tiny voice calls from the hallway
“ah, how did you escape your uncle, little one?” jongho’s eyes light up at the sight of the little girl running through the open door. her dark hair bounces in little pigtails, her full cheeks jiggling with each bouncing step, a bright smile, twin to jongho’s, fills her face
“bomi ! wait !” another handsome professor whom you recognize, kang maybe? trails through the lecture hall door after the precious little girl
”sorry jjong,” he sounds out of breath, “i tried to stop her but she saw you through the door and i couldn’t stop her in time,” the man scratches at his neck, a smile blooming across his reddening cheeks
“ha, it’s okay sangie,” he assures his friend. “class, this is my daughter, bomi.” he picks her up under her armpits and the sweetest giggle lilts through the lecture hall. he props her on his hip, and she nuzzles into his shoulder
“i had to fill in pretty last minute, and i’m on my own with this little one, so she had to tag along today,” he blows a raspberry on her cheek, drawing another sweet laugh from her. “but, she’s supposed to be with her uncle yeosang,” he pouts, faking disappointment in his voice. “believe everything you hear about the terrible twos, this little lady is more strong-willed than some of the professors in this building.” the crowd of students around you laughs, but you’re so mesmerized by the man in front of you, all you can do is stare
“back to sangie you go, baby, i’ll see you in a bit,” he kisses her little nose before passing her back over to professor kang, and she blows her dad a kiss before being carried out of the lecture hall
class resumes as normal, but you are hyper aware of jongho’s attention on you
you’ve lost track of how many times his eyes have met yours during class, a subtle grin tugging at his mouth each time
by the time class lets out, your cheeks are burning and his grin has turned smug
you’re so frazzled, struggling to get all of your belongings into your bag, you don’t even realize the lecture hall has almost entirely cleared out. you slip your laptop into your bag, zipping it shut, finally standing to leave. the last of the students filter out of the room, and jongho starts packing up his bag.
“ms… y/n, is it?”
you almost choke on your gasp, your eyes widening as you slip your bag over your shoulder.
“uh… yes, yeah, that’s me,” your voice comes out hardly above a whisper, but he still hears you. you walk down the steps to the front of the room, and jongho seems to drink in your every step.
“sorry, i just had to figure out the name of the beautiful girl who followed me to my office,” he smirks, throwing his bag over his shoulder, taking a step toward you
shit.
“oh my god, i’m sorry, i just—“ you what? what do you even say? did he call you beautiful? help
you settle on another pitiful “i’m sorry,”
“please, don’t be,”
”i thought i was a little more subtle than i was, i suppose,”
“and i thought i’d have to return the favor to get a chance to talk to you, but here we are” the warmth in his eyes settles the tension in your shoulders
“oh no, a hot professor stalking me? sounds terrible,” you tease
the tops of his ears redden, “hot, huh?”
“hot,” you repeat, adjusting your stance, popping a hip out. his eyes sweep over your figure, lingering where your waist meets your hip, dragging them back to meet your eyes.
“would a hot professor asking you out to dinner be terrible, too?” his tongue pokes at the inside of his cheek as he takes another step toward you.
“the worst,” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth.
”rose garden? 7 o’clock? can you handle the suffering?”
“i’ll power through it, i suppose,” you move forward, the space between you shrinking.
“see you then, y/n,” his eyes scan over your body once more before he winks, tucking a hand into his pocket and turning to walk out the door, leaving you standing alone, aroused, and anxious.
thank goodness your date was that night, because if you’d had more than a few hours to stew over it, you probably would’ve chickened out
you change your outfit 15 times before settling on high waisted wide leg black trousers and a cream colored sweater
you give your hair a light curl, pinning half of it back, and apply some light makeup, finishing with a glossy lip
you throw on a pair of heeled black boots and head to the restaurant
you realize on the way there that you didn’t even exchange phone numbers with jongho. what if he had to bail? what if he couldn’t find anyone to watch bomi? what if he’s late or changed his mind?
you arrive at the restaurant just before 7, and your heart stutters in your chest as you see jongho sitting alone at a table, wearing a black and grey striped sweater, a thin silver chain adorning his neck, its pendant hanging in the middle of his broad chest
the restaurant is beautiful. it’s cozy, warm, and intimate, has only a handful of tables, but each one of them is full. he must’ve made a reservation, or knows someone who knows someone
his eyes light up when he sees you, smiling at you from across the restaurant. he stands as the hostess guides you to the table, pulling your chair out for you. of course he’s a gentleman.
“you decided to withstand the torture?” he instantly resumes your banter from this afternoon and you can’t help but smile
“i think i can handle it,” you shoot back
conversation easily picks up, flowing comfortably between the two of you, dancing from one topic to the next with no awkward silences.
he encourages you to order whatever you want, and after endless insistence on his part, you settle on a shrimp pasta, and jongho orders a steak. he even orders you the perfect wine to go with your dinner.
he is incredibly attentive throughout your meal, asking you questions about your interests, hobbies, aspirations after college, giving you all of his genuine attention, so much adoration in his eyes. you slowly realize you actually have so much in common– reading, video games, hiking, music, the list goes on
you can’t help yourself or your curiosity, and end up asking him “so… where is bomi tonight?”
he smiles at the mention of her name, “she is with yeosang tonight, my friend who had her during class,” he runs a hand through his hair, exposing his forehead for a moment, and your breath hitches.
“is her mom…” you start to ask before you formulate the end of your sentence, but something shifts in his eyes, and you immediately regret your question. he must notice the panic in your eyes, immediately reassuring you.
“it’s okay, i don’t mind talking about it,” he gives you a sad smile. “she left right before bomi’s first birthday. she said it was too much for her, and she wasn’t done living her life,”
your heart cracks in your chest. you haven’t spent much time with him, but you can’t fathom how anyone could abandon him like that, especially with a little girl. you’re speechless, trying to find the right words to say
“it was going downhill for a while, though,” he continues. “i don’t think she realized how much was going to change when bomi came, and she had been checked out for months before she decided to leave”
“jongho, i’m so sorry, i can’t imagine how hard that must’ve been for you,” you instinctively reach across the table, wrapping your fingers around his hand, and he reciprocates immediately, the contact warming your skin.
“honestly, i quickly realized it was for the best,” he admits. “i have a solid group of friends here that adore bomi and help me out a lot, and the pressure of trying to keep her mom happy while caring for her was getting to be a lot, so…” he rubs his thumb across your skin, smiling up at you. “it’s been a hell of a lot easier doing it on my own. i love being her dad”
the warmth has returned to his eyes at the thought of his little girl, and you know he’s being entirely truthful
the rest of your evening flies by in a whirl of intimate conversations and delicious desserts, and before you know it, the bill is paid and jongho is offering you his arm. you wrap a hand around his firm bicep, and head out into the evening air
you start regularly seeing jongho around campus for the next few weeks, meeting for coffee some mornings and having dinner together once a week. you’ve both shared intimate details of your lives with one another, and you’ve come to the conclusion that he is the most genuine and kindhearted man you’ve ever met.
you also come to find out that he’s only 7 years older than you despite his education and status at the college, which has you feeling less… unsure about your feelings for him.
he’s been incredibly respectful, almost too much so, and hasn’t done more than give you a soft kiss on the cheek, always leaving you yearning for more.
you’ve even gotten to spend some time with bomi, when yeosang had a last minute change in his schedule and couldn’t watch her. you happened to have a gap in your classes, and took her to the cafe to have some mac and cheese and color on napkins with some pens from your bag. spending time with her was the highlight of your day, and you were so grateful to jongho for trusting you with his little girl
you’ve started to really like jongho. really really like jongho. you look forward to every interaction you have with him, and always find yourself wishing it wouldn’t end
part of you wants to pursue something real with him, but you can’t help the nerves that come along with the excitement of that possibility
after your fourth dinner date, you decide to share your thoughts with him
he leads you out of the restaurant, his fingers laced with yours, and you walk through the city streets in a comfortable silence
“where is your head at right now, beautiful?” he reads you instantly and stops walking, turning to face you, holding your hand in his
“is this… okay?”
he tilts his head looking back at you, skin glowing under the warmth of the street lights. you have to stop yourself from ogling over the way his baby blue button down shirt hugs his shoulders. “is… what okay?” he questions
“us … going out, dating, being…”
“together?” he asks, a smile tugging at his lips
“yeah… together”
“are we?” he inches closer to you. “together?”
you hesitate. “can we be?”
“are you asking me to be your boyfriend?” his grins, his hand finding your waist, fingers gliding over the silky dress you spent hours picking out. you have to stop your head from spinning right off your shoulders at the contact, finally thinking he may do more than kiss you on the cheek. “or are you asking if we logistically can be together?”
“both? maybe?” you feel your cheeks burning under his attention, especially as his grip on your waist tightens. “you’re a professor, jjong. and i’m a student.”
“i’m technically not your professor, baby,” he smirks, and the pet name makes your skin prickle into gooseflesh. the way he’s looking at you has you feeling bold.
“and, it’s my last semester,” you take a step closer to him, and he fully wraps an arm around your waist. “so, i’m hardly a student anymore,” your cheeks warm when his hand finds the sensitive skin of your neck, fingers gliding up to cradle your head.
“no harm, no foul,” he nearly whispers, “and, by the way, i’ll totally be your boyfriend,” he nudges the tip of your nose with his, before he finally brushes his lips over yours.
you can tell he’s still trying to be respectful, but you would prefer the opposite, especially after all of the teasing this man has put you through with his winks and gentle touches.
you mold your mouth into his, pressing into him with your entire body, and he wraps you in his arms, pulling you closer as you part his lips with your tongue.
he sighs against your mouth, swiping his tongue across yours, breathing you in, tasting you. whatever restraint he’s been practicing the past few weeks seems to have disappeared, especially when he weaves his fingers into your hair and tilts your head to the side to bring his mouth down on your neck.
he nips and sucks at the column of your throat, earning a gasp from you, and the comparison of this man versus the one who took you on your first date is giving you whiplash
“jjong,” you whine, earning a groan and a chuckle from your boyfriend, his hot breath dancing over your damp skin.
“come home with me, baby,” he pants, pressing his forehead against yours. you freeze.
“what about bomi, don’t you have to go pick her up?” you know she’s with a friend, and jongho usually has to end your evenings around her bed time to go get her
“she’s spending the night at yeosang’s tonight,” he smirks, “i have the place all to myself,”
how did he…? “did you plan this?” you look up at him, grinning at the mischief glinting in his eyes.
“i maybe had a plan to ask you to be my girlfriend and woo you into my bed tonight,” he brushes a strand of hair from your forehead, “i figured you maybe have had enough of me trying to be… a gentleman.” you flush,
“and you were so confident i’d say yes that you asked yeosang to have a sleepover with your daughter?”
“i mean...am i wrong?”
“absolutely not,”
thirty minutes and a very charged car ride later, jongho is crowding you against the front door of his apartment.
he kisses you fervently as he fumbles to unlock the door behind you, and he catches you by the waist when it opens.
his arms remain firm and strong around you, kissing you greedily and thoroughly, guiding you through his apartment. part of you wants to ask for a tour, but that can come… later.
after one too many stumbles, an impatient growl rumbles through jongho’s chest, and he lifts you, easily wrapping your legs around his waist, your dress hitching up at your hips. you greatly underestimated his strength, suddenly painfully aware of how easily he can manipulate your body.
“this dress, y/n, fuck,” he curses under his breath as you push through what must be his bedroom doorway. “your body is so perfect,”
the way he handles you is gentle but firm, holding your body exactly where he wants it and keeping you flush against him. your hands tangle in his hair as he carries you across his room, and when you tug on it, he chuckles lowly against your mouth
he lays you down over the top of his mattress, your body melting into the luxurious blankets beneath you. of course he has expensive bedding. he trails kisses down your neck, down the valley between your breasts, palming one of them in his hand, and your back arches in response
you shrug out of the straps of your dress under his hold, pulling it down until your breasts fall free from its confines, earning a delicious groan from your boyfriend
“so pretty,” he murmurs, catching glimpses of your bare chest between kisses. his hands roam uninhibitedly over your skin, hot and sure
he catches a nipple between his teeth before swirling his tongue around it, palming your other breast with a strong hand
your hands find his hair again, holding him close to you, your chest heaving into his ministrations. your hips roll against nothing, desperate for any kind of friction
in response, jongho’s free hand drifts to where your dress rests mid thigh, and he ghosts his fingers below the fabric, slowly pushing it further up your legs. as he does, he slots his hips between your legs, inching closer to your aching core
he looks so big hovering over you like this. hands, lips, and tongue masterfully work you up until you’re shaking with need
”jjong please,” you whine, earning another deep chuckle
”please what, angel?” he looks up at you from where he’d just begun marking your breasts with blooms of red and purple, and the sight nearly ends you.
“touch me, please,” you roll your hips again and he smirks. he slides his hands from your breasts, fingers moving with the curves of your hips as he glides them down to where your dress has ridden up your thighs
”since you asked so nicely,” he coos, “can i take this off of you?” he gently tugs on your dress, and you nod
you lift your hips as he carefully pulls the garment down the rest of your torso, over your full hips, and down your legs. his heated gaze doesn’t miss a single inch of skin as it’s revealed to him, and you notice the rise and fall of his chest has quickened
you lay on his bed in only your underwear, suddenly feeling a bit overexposed compared to him being fully dressed
he must sense your slight discomfort, noticing your eyes dancing over every clothed bit of him
”eyes here,” his voice drops an octave, stealing the breath from your lungs. you prop yourself up on your elbows to look into his dark eyes, not daring to look away as he slowly unbuttons his shirt
piece by piece, golden skin comes into view. despite the itch you have to drink him in, you keep your eyes on his. his eyebrow quirks up in a challenge, and you poke the inside of your cheek with your tongue, doubling down.
“i can’t decide if this means you’re a good girl, or if i’m in a world of trouble,” he teases, finally shedding his shirt and tossing it to join your dress on the floor.
“both, baby,” you wink, skin flushing at him calling you a good girl. “i’ll do whatever you say, and i’ll be stubborn about it,”
“perfect, keep it up,” he grins, reaching for his belt buckle
“oh, you asshole,” you refuse to even glance down, no matter how badly you want to, and you know he is loving it. “are you enjoying torturing me?”
“you’re the stubborn one here, angel,” he pops the buckle undone, slowly sliding the leather strap out from his belt loops. “no one is forcing you to keep those pretty eyes on mine.” the thunk of his belt hitting the floor almost makes you break your staring contest
”well, i’m not one to back down from a challenge, choi jongho,” you pull your bottom lip between your teeth as he starts unzipping his pants, confidence dripping from the way he looks at you
he finally pushes his pants down, kicking them to the side, and the black boxer briefs in the unfocused edge of your vision are taunting you
“go on then,” he rolls his shoulders back
”and do what?” you shoot back
“i got to look at your body,” his voice drops on his last word, “it’s only fair,”
you tilt your head at him in question, and he huffs out a laugh. “do you think i’m not gonna let you look at me all night, baby? go on,”
you didn’t realize how much tension you’d been holding in your shoulders, and you deflate as you finally let your eyes roam over his exposed skin
the realization hits you hard that the most skin you’ve seen up until this point has been his forearms, and the corded muscle under the skin of those is nothing compared to what dances beneath his golden shoulders, his chest, his thighs… your eyes drop to his cock straining against his boxers, and your cunt squeezes around nothing when you notice the little dark patch at his head
“holy shit,” you whisper without meaning to. this man is built like a fucking god and does a damn god job hiding it
“thank you, i think,” his shoulders seem to relax as well, especially as you sit up on the edge of the bed, entranced by the delectable body in front of you. you rest one hand on his stomach and look up to him for permission, and he nods, sighing when both of your hands begin exploring his warm skin
his muscles are so firm underneath his soft skin, and you let your hands roam over every inch of his torso. a finger brushes over his peaked nipple and he hisses, and suddenly his body comes down over you, capturing your mouth in a searing kiss
“i need to touch you, baby,” he whispers as he slots himself firmly between your legs, and you wrap your arms around his neck to keep yourself from falling back onto the mattress. “wrap your legs around me,” he orders, and you listen, doing exactly as he told you as he wraps a strong arm around your waist
suddenly you’re floating, and jongho plants a knee firmly on the mattress, holding you steady while crawling both of you up to the head of his bed, kissing you hot and wet all the while. he spreads his knees wide as he lays you down, spreading your legs open in the process, and rolling his hips against your clothed core
you feel his cock, hard and hot under his boxers, rolling into you over and over as he kisses you fervently. his lips, teeth, and tongue lavish your neck, and you feel like you’re on fire, arousal licking at the base of your spine
his lips travel down your body, nips and licks painting a trail straight to your center, where your boyfriend makes quick work of removing your soaked panties
“fucking hell,” he sighs when you’re finally spread open and bare in front of him. “fucking hell,” he repeats, before diving into your heat
“ah!” you cry out as his tongue spreads you open, lapping at you with a desperation you match immediately, meeting his tongue with roll after roll of your hips
he groans into your cunt, the vibrations waving through your whole body. his tongue swirls around your clit and you stifle a sob. all of the teasing and tension had you so worked up, you can’t stop yourself from immediately becoming a whining mess
“so sweet,” he praises you, sucking your clit between his soft lips as you feel a finger prodding at your entrance
he slides a finger inside of you easily, all of your arousal this evening making you slick and ready
”fuck,” you moan, propping yourself up again to watch him work you
his eyes burn into yours, mouth molded over your cunt, a strong arm working you
”more, baby, please,” you beg him, and he nods without taking his mouth off of you, adding another finger
“oh,” you whine, feeling the pressure building as he quickens his pace
the sounds coming from between your legs are sinful, wet fingers gliding in and out of you in combination with jongho’s groans
you can’t help but notice the way his hips start grinding into the mattress beneath him, and you find yourself wishing he was fucking into you instead
just as you imagine the way it’ll feel when he finally fills you, he curls his fingers inside of you, hitting the sensitive spot that has you dropping flat onto your back again
”mhm,” jongho encourages you, somehow knowing that your climax is quickly approaching
”i’m gonna— fuck,” you cry out as he firmly sucks your clit, grazing his teeth over the sensitive bud as he relentlessly pumps his fingers inside of you. he nods, and you know he’s understood
searing heat pools deep in your belly as your legs begin to shake, and jongho replaces his tongue with the pad of his thumb
”come on, beautiful, come for me,” the gravely tone of his voice only makes you more desperate for release, and a few pumps of his fingers later, you’re falling apart
”oh my god!” you cry out as your body shakes, thighs clamping shut around his arm, but he doesn’t stop working you
he eases you through it, pushing into you firm and deep, holding his thumb firmly over your clit, and the pressure deliciously draws out your climax
“that’s my good girl,” he whispers, peppering your thighs with gentle kisses while he gingerly pulls out of you. your eyes fall closed, his soft touches soothing you
he kisses every bit of skin he can get his mouth on, rubbing circles into your hips while you come down. jongho knows just how to touch your body to make you feel safe and loved, and no doubt or uncertainty creeps in
“how’re you feeling, angel?” he asks between kisses, his loving presence warming your chest
you force your tired eyes open to look into his, and to no surprise, his gaze is full of heated adoration. you allow yourself to feel just how much you’re falling for this man
“amazing,” you sigh, holding your arms out to him, reaching for his face. he hovers over you, brushing your hair from your forehead as you cradle his head in your hands
“you’re amazing,” he whispers, nudging the tip of your nose with his
you arch up slightly to connect your lips with his, and the second his tongue slips into your mouth, the taste of yourself in his mouth has arousal seeping into your belly once again
he kisses you deep and tender, slotting between your legs again, and you meet his hips as they press into you
a moan rips from your throat when you feel his solid length rub against your soaking wet cunt, and he grinds into you, earning another sweet sound
“you sound so pretty when you’re needy,” he rolls his hips again and you meet his thrust, forcing yourself down as hard as you can, greedy for friction
“please, jjong, i need you to fuck me,” you whine, reaching for the band of his boxers
“who am i to deny a beautiful girl when she’s greedy for my cock?” his voice is amused, yet full of desire, and his mouth catches yours as you feel him pushing out of his underwear
you hear the fabric hit the floor as your boyfriend kisses you thoroughly, each lap of his tongue and nibble of his teeth turning you into a writhing desperate mess. he gets settled between your legs once again, caging you beneath his strong body
“i need you inside me now or i’m gonna cry,” you whimper as you feel the solid head of his cock slip between your folds, and he hisses at the sensation
he nods, sitting up a bit, settling back on his haunches, and you sit up with him, eyes gliding down his body to his hard cock
he’s pink and long, rock solid and thick enough that you feel your cunt pulse at the thought of him filling you. the velvety tip is leaking pearly white, and your mouth waters
he wraps a hand around the base of his cock and you sigh, tension bleeding out of you knowing you’re a moment closer to being fucked
he positions himself between your legs, kneading your thigh with his free hand
“ready?” he questions, inching closer to you, slipping his head between your lips again, notching it at your entrance. his eyes are nearly black, pupils so wide with desire that the deep brown has nearly disappeared completely
“please,” you beg, nodding so hard you feel your cheeks jiggle
the moment he presses forward your eyes drop to where your bodies are connected, and you watch in awe as he disappears inside you inch by inch, filling you completely
as soon as he’s fully seated inside you, you look back up to him to see his jaw hanging open, sweat beading on his forehead
“fuck,” you whimper when he shifts forward on his knees, pushing ever deeper
“yeah,” he agrees, “fuck,”
when he leans over your body to kiss you, the angle of his cock shifts, bumping where you needed him most, and you both fall flat onto the mattress at the feeling
he keeps his lips on yours, slipping his tongue into your mouth as he pulls out, pushing back in with a force that has your back arching into him
he quickly finds a pace that draws delicious moans from the both of you, the room filled with a symphony of skin on skin and sounds of pleasure
“you feel so good, baby,” he praises you, pulling his mouth from yours to sit back again and put more power into his thrusts
you gasp as he fucks you even deeper, his powerful thighs propelling him forward with each thrust, fucking into you so deliciously hard you feel like you could split in half
“fuck, jjong,” you throw your head back as his pubic bone connects with your swollen clit, every thrust pushing you closer to another climax
he cups one of your breasts in his hand, swiping his thumb over your nipple as he squeezes, the extra arousal drawing you higher and higher
“i’m not gonna last very long, baby, you look so fucking good i can hardly take it,” he pumps into you relentlessly, tweaking your nipple with his skilled fingers, gripping your hip tightly with his free hand
“me neither, fuck, feels too good,” you mumble, feeling your brain starting to go fuzzy as the pressure deep in your belly builds and builds. he pinches your nipple hard, and you squeeze around his cock
“oh my god, baby,” he throws his head back, black strands of hair sticking to his forehead
“i want you to come all over me jjong,” you whine, meeting each of his thrusts the best you can “please, come all over me,”
“fuck, okay,” he grunts, moving his hand from your hip and slipping it between your legs, “but i want you to come with me, okay beautiful?”
the second his thumb connects with your clit you know you’re too far gone to respond with spoken words, the only noise you’re able to make being a wanton moan, but you nod and continue to roll your hips to meet his, squeezing around him again
“i’m close, baby, fuck,” his rhythm begins to falter and so does his thumb on your clit
as soon as he slips out of you and wraps a hand around his cock, you swat his hand out from between your legs, replacing his fingers on your clit with your own
“come on,” you force out, rubbing your clit how you know will get you there any moment, the contact immediately pushing you right to the edge. “come on me, come with me,”
his eyes blow wide open at the sight of you, and he furiously pumps his cock right over your heat, eyes glued to where your fingers swim through your wetness
“i’m gonna–” he starts, throwing his head back and firmly squeezing the base of his cock
he looks back down at you, fire in his eyes, as he starts pumping again, faster and harder, “i’m coming, shit,”
“fuck, give it to me,” you cry out as your body starts to shake, and as soon as you feel your orgasm wracking through you, you feel his hot ropes of release landing on your breasts
you watch as spurt after spurt of his come covers your body, and the sight only draws your orgasm out even longer
without warning, he collapses over you and slips his still hard cock back inside you, and you sigh when you’re filled again
he kisses you over and over, pressing his torso firmly to yours, the come between you making your bodies slick, and he thrusts into you gently
“wow,” you sigh when you start to feel him soften slightly inside of you, letting your eyes fall closed while he continues to kiss every inch of you he can reach
“wow is right,” he whispers, “i could stay inside of you forever”
“please do,” you tease
“don’t mind if i do,” you know you’re in for it when you catch the mischief in his voice. he swiftly wraps your legs around his waist and holds you tight. “hold on,”
you squeal as he easily manipulates your body once again, picking you up and climbing off the bed to carry you to his en suite bathroom
he hardens inside of you as you wait for the shower to heat up, and before you know it, he’s fucking you again against the shower wall, making you come on his cock over and over until you can barely keep your eyes open
he helps you get dressed in one of his t-shirts and a pair of his boxers before quietly slipping out of the room with a whispered promise that he’d return soon
after long moments of struggling to keep your eyes open and listening to him shuffling around the kitchen, he returns with tylenol and a bottle of water, a hot cup of broth, and a bowl of rice crackers
“what’s all this?” you sit up against his headboard, accepting the broth while he sets the rest on the nightstand next to you
“i’m a big aftercare guy,” he sounds shy at the admission, but you’re grateful. you’ve never had a partner care to ensure your wellbeing after intimacy, and you find yourself longing for snuggles and pillowtalk
he climbs into bed with you as you down the broth, its warmth filling your belly and making you feel even more sleepy
he reaches over you to grab the tylenol and water, ensuring you take the pill and drink at least half of the water
you snuggle under the blankets together, sharing the rice crackers in a comfortable silence
“i’m happy i followed you that day,” you admit into the silence of the dim room
“me too,” he agrees, “but i think we would’ve ended up here even if you didn’t”
“why’s that?”
“i probably would’ve ended up doing the same thing just to get closer to you,” he rubs soothing circles into your skin, and your eyes start to feel heavy. “the first moment i saw you, i was entranced by how beautiful you were,” he opens his mouth to continue but stops himself. you give him a moment to gather his thoughts
“it was supposed to be yeosang that day,” he admits, and you immediately know that he means when he subbed for professor jeong in class. “it was supposed to be yeosang, but i knew you were in that class, so i begged yeosang to watch bomi so i could be there instead, and maybe have a chance to talk to you”
“jongho !” you giggle, snuggling into him. “and here i thought i was the creep,” you tease
“hey, look where we ended up, i’d do it again any day,” he admits
“and i’d follow you to your office again any day,” your last word morphs into a yawn, and you let your eyes fall shut
he continues gently massaging your skin until your breathing begins to even out
“goodnight, my angel,” he whispers, pulling you closer to him as sleep finally takes you
you wake the next morning, rolling over to find the other side of the bed empty. the alarm clock on jongho’s nightstand reads 8:17AM, and the lack of warmth on his side of the bed means he must have been up for a while
the rich smell of coffee floats into the room, along with the sound of jongho shuffling around the kitchen. running water, a pot being set down, liquid being poured, and soft music
you sit up, stretching your tired limbs, grinning to yourself as you feel the soreness in your hips. memories of last night flash through your mind, warming your cheeks
you quietly get out of bed, deciding to try to sneak a glimpse of jongho in his natural habitat
in the light of day you can see the clean decor of his bedroom. neutral tones, natural materials, sleek lines, and simple furniture. you creep out of his room, noting that the same style runs through the rest of the apartment as well, along with pops of color and other little toys and things of bomi’s, which bring a smile to your face
as you approach the kitchen you hear jongho’s rich voice humming along to the music he has playing
when the kitchen finally comes into view, the first thing you notice is your shirtless boyfriend, black sweatpants slung low on his hips. his back is to you, his muscles dancing beneath his skin as he fiddles with something on the counter
without turning around, he says “good morning, angel,” and you hear the smile in his voice
“hi baby,” you cross through the kitchen, wrapping your arms around your boyfriends waist once you reach him, pressing your cheek against his back. his skin is so warm against yours, and he sighs into your touch
”how’d you sleep?” he asks, finishing what he’s working on and spinning around in your arms to face you
“so good,”
the morning light casts a brilliant glow across his golden skin, and his rosy lips pull up into a grin when he looks down at you
“you look beautiful,” he whispers before softly kissing your forehead
“i just woke up, jjong, i highly doubt that,” you giggle, nuzzling into his broad chest
“i don’t,” he squeezes you in his arms. “you’re always beautiful, especially when you just woke up, in my shirt, and in my house,” he kisses the top of your head before turning back to the counter.
you will away the redness trying to spread across your cheeks at his words, laughing it off. jongho spins back around holding two hot mugs of coffee, one black, and one with the perfect amount of milk in it
“i think i got your milk-to-coffee ratio right,” he smiles sheepishly as he hands you your mug
”you sure did,” you grin back, taking the drink from him
“wanna get back in bed?” he offers, wiggling his eyebrows as he takes a sip of his coffee
“coffee in bed with my hot boyfriend? yes please,” you turn toward his room, swaying your hips a little more exaggerated than you normally would, and he hurries after you, giving your ass a light smack
you get settled in bed, both of you propped against the headboard, jongho slinging one arm over your shoulder. you sink into his touch, feeling at peace being surrounded by his warmth and his scent
“i was thinking we’d go grab breakfast, then maybe visit that new museum that just opened by campus?” he rubs your shoulder while he runs through his ideas for the day, but something in your chest tightens
“jjong…” you whisper, setting your mug down on the nightstand next to you, turning to face him
“hm?” his gaze shifts to something more serious at the tone of your voice. he sets his coffee down too, turning to give you his full attention
“can we… go get bomi from yeosang’s? and bring her with us?” your voice comes out a lot less confident than you wished it would, so you push forward. “i would really love to spend some more time with her, get to know her… i know i’ve hung out with her once or twice, but she’s just so sweet, and if we’re gonna be together, i feel like i should be around her more, and i just–”
he cuts you off with a searing kiss, pulling your body close to him, and you’re thankful you set your coffee down or you’d be making a mess. he takes control of your body, pulling you on top of him, and you settle your knees on either side of his hips
when he breaks the kiss, you notice how unsteady his breathing is
“jongho?” you whisper, cradling his face in your hands, tilting it up to make him look at you. when his eyes meet yours, you see they’re lined with silver
“you want to spend time with my daughter?” he asks, sniffling
“of course i do, jjong, she’s a part of you, and if i’m your girlfriend that means she’ll be a part of me too,” you decide you don’t care how what you’re saying implies how serious you want your relationship to become. the love in his eyes tells you all you need to know, without needing to hear it
“absolutely,” he whispers, deep eyes scanning your face for any hint of doubt. when he doesn’t find any, he continues “when should we go get her?”
“can we… go now?” you grin, already thinking about all the laughs the three of you will share together
jongho’s eyes light up, and his arms tighten around you before he gives you a soft, lasting kiss
“alright then, i’ll take you home to get ready,” his grin widens, “then i’m taking my girls on a breakfast date.”
pairing﹢jeong yunho x fem!reader
genre﹢smut. ex-bf!yunho, age gap (reader is 24, yunho is 36), themes of obsessive tendencies and stalking, jealousy, emotional manipulation, slight yandere (if you squint), corruption kink, toxic relationship, dubcon undertones but it turns consensual, cunnilingus, choking, mean dom!yunho, implied size kink/difference [the big dick yunho agenda is real], hate + unprotected sex, missionary + mating press, praising + degradation, overstimulation, orgasm control, tummy bulge, creampie, pet names (doll, babydoll, dollface, angel, pretty girl, etc), minimal aftercare.
synopsis﹢he was the only older guy you had ever dated, and you swore you would never do this to yourself again. two years of love, obsession, and control are gone, or at least, that’s what you thought. some people don’t let go or move on — he never did. so why does he walk back into your life like nothing ever happened... this time, as your professor?
word count﹢17,9k
✦ WATCH THE FIC TEASER ✦ PLAY THE VINYL RECORD
these are the best eleven months of your life after ending the relationship with your now ex-boyfriend. next month you're even thinking of celebrating, because it will mark a whole year. your best friends will definitely treat it like a huge occasion, just like on that fateful day when you handed them the news on a silver platter… they had never been so happy, throwing a small party just for the three of you.
YUNHO was the only older guy you had ever dated, and you swore you would never do this to yourself again. to sum it all up, the relationship turned toxic rather quickly. you almost lost all of your friends, even your two best friends, karina and yeji, who tried their very best to shove some sense into you, but you never listened, delusional enough to believe that you could change him. oh, how naive you were, that’s why you were so easy to manipulate…
apologies came in the form of very expensive gifts, things you had always wanted, or in gentle kisses and touches that slowly wandered and eventually led to the bedroom, where you ended up naked beneath his covers. you thought it was normal, since every relationship had arguments, but that’s not what this was about. it was about toxicity, extreme jealousy, possessiveness, maybe even obsession. the man was a literal freak.
karina practically did a full analysis of him, confirming what she had said the very first time you told her about the problems that occurred between you and him: "he's a psychopath." she had been direct, telling you it wasn’t okay and that you needed to break up with him. yeji agreed with her, always wanting the best for you, adding that "older men always want to date someone younger and it's not just because of looks… please be careful."
you suffered once and learned your lesson. enjoying your vacation, cocktail in hand, while the sea breeze drifts past you, the sun hot against your skin as you lounge on the deckchair, slowly tanning. of course, sometimes you still think about the past; you can’t really stop that after spending two whole years with him. yet even though everything had been bad and suffocating, there had been a good side to him too: tall, handsome, funny and somehow rich. what more could you want?
the other thing you wanted was for your parents and close friends not to find out that you had been dating someone not two or three years older, or even a year younger, but a whole twelve years older. yes, you were twenty-one when you met him, a couple of months before your birthday, through mutual friends. one gathering led to another, and before you knew it, you were dating him, convinced you had finally found the one you were going to marry, the only man who truly knew how to be a man. alas, it turned out he was just another shark in the ocean, ready to strike at its defenseless prey.
it doesn’t matter anymore, since you’re single, genuinely happy, enjoying your summer, shining brighter than the sun itself, and everyone sees you like some kind of eternal sunshine. you finally returned to yourself, only smarter this time, no longer falling for tricks or manipulative tactics. life is good when you don’t have a man bitching in your ear about the outfit you’re about to wear or asking why you were talking to some guy for too long. the waiter, if you must specify, who was simply announcing the lunch menu.
“ah, can’t believe we have to be back at university that soon…” you said, sipping from your drink while idly chewing on the straw. karina was on your left, glued to her phone, while yeji sat on your right, carefully lining up small seashells along her thighs.
“and we’re graduating this year too… but someone decided to study at a different university, breaking our teenage dreams,” karina said as she turned off her phone, glancing at you with a playful look while you rolled your eyes.
“not my fault the one you’re in didn’t have what i wanted.” you took another sip, and yeji giggled softly. “none of us dropped out though, which is an achievement on its own.”
yes, you didn’t study at the same place as them, but that didn’t stop you from hanging out, if anything, there was even more gossip to share. and so the conversations continued, all the way until you started getting ready for dinner, and then for a few more days after that, until eventually you had to go back to seoul and wish each other “good luck for the new last year.”
you really did need some luck, because you had just found out that your favorite professor had retired. you were going to miss the woman; you had been her favorite student, but all good things eventually come to an end. everyone was already sitting in the lecture room. you had heard that the new professor was someone young, but there hadn’t been time to check who exactly he was since they were still fixing schedules and systems. the only thing you knew was that tuesday at nine in the morning was your first lecture with the new professor in question.
“i think he probably used to play basketball or football, i saw him earlier and he’s really tall,” one of the boys said, and the others quickly agreed, while you remained focused on your phone, scrolling through reel after reel, meme after meme. then you overheard the girls whispering nearby, their voices a little more excited. “did you see his hands? and him in general… he’s so fine…”
the problem with having a young professor is exactly that — he was young, and from what everyone was saying, quite attractive too. the other problem appeared the moment everyone finally sat down when the door opened. a tall figure stepped into the room, his style was effortless in a way that made it impossible not to glance twice. a soft gray cardigan hung loosely over his shoulders, the thin knit falling open enough to reveal the clean white t-shirt beneath.
the muted colors helped him blend in, making him look more like a student than a teacher. slim black pants traced the long lines of his frame, the strap of a black crossbody bag thrown diagonally across his chest, and he wore simple sneakers. his black hair fell in soft layers that framed his face, the strands straight and smooth, cut just long enough to brush the tops of his eyebrows and skim the sides of his cheekbones.
you were sitting a little further back, your phone still in your hands. the room buzzed with chatter as people continued talking among themselves until the professor cleared his throat, the sound cutting clean through the noise as he prepared to introduce himself.
“hello everyone, i’m jeong yunho and i’ll be your new photography professor this year.”
your eyes widened instantly, your head snapping up so fast it almost hurt. oh no… houston, we have a problem. you blinked several times, half expecting your vision to clear and reveal someone else entirely. maybe it was just someone with the exact same name, appearance, and voice. unfortunately for you, it wasn’t. why is your ex-boyfriend the new professor? out of all the people in the capital, it had to be him who got the position.
you sat there frozen in complete shock, your mouth slightly open until your deskmate and close university friend, jeongin, gently pressed a finger under your chin to close it as he leaned to whisper, “i guess everyone, including you, just found their new crush, huh?”
what, why, and how? was this some kind of twisted karma? because if it was, you definitely weren’t the one who deserved it. your heart started beating faster, anxiety and something close to fear crawling up. could you run away? maybe copy someone else’s notes, no… you couldn’t. suddenly you wished you were studying metaphysics with karina, because that sounded far more pleasant than this.
“i’d love to get to know all of you,” he continued, smiling as he set his bag on the desk before leaning back against it, arms loosely crossed, while his gaze moved around the room. “so i’ll share a few things about myself. and don’t worry, i won’t make you do anything today. i’ll just introduce the course and explain what i expect from you.”
surprisingly hands immediately began rising with questions. meanwhile, you were still struggling to believe what you were seeing and hearing. he hadn’t changed at all, you had to admit it. he had only gotten more attractive. always taking care of himself and being unfairly pretty, making you remember how two years ago you thought about what your future children would look like... now you want to throw up. forcing yourself to keep your composure, glancing at jeongin and making a slightly grimaced face. yeah, a crush for sure, except you wanted to crush him into pieces.
“how old are you, professor?” someone from the middle rows asked, earning a few curious murmurs from the class, making yunho chuckle, “straight to the personal questions already? alright then. i’m thirty-six.”
everyone was surprised by the answer, and all kinds of reactions rippled through.
“don’t look so shocked,” he added with a small grin. “i promise i’m not that ancient.”
“are you a full-time professor?” another student asked.
“not exactly,” yunho replied, pushing his sleeves up slightly as he spoke, revealing his forearms, “i’m a professional photographer first. i mainly work in editorial and commercial photography such as fashion shoots, campaigns, exhibitions, that sort of thing. teaching is something i enjoy doing on the side, especially with students who are serious about the craft.”
“does that mean you’re going to give us easy grades?” someone joked, making him raise an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “absolutely not.”
the class laughed again, a little nervous this time.
“i can be friendly,” he added, shrugging lightly, “but don’t mistake that for me being tolerant. photography is about discipline and perspective. if you’re here just to press a button and hope for the best, you’re going to struggle.”
another hand went up. “so… we won’t pass easily?”
“correct,” nodding his head once. “i expect effort, creativity, and consistency. if you work hard, you’ll do amazing. if you don’t…” he paused briefly before smiling again, “you won’t pass this course by simply showing up and smiling at me. well, at least you’ll get some nice pictures out of the experience.”
more chuckles followed, but the message had landed. the atmosphere quickly became relaxed and comfortable as he answered questions with small jokes. the students were already warming up to him, clearly charmed by how easygoing he was. as you listened to him speak, watched the way he carried himself so seriously and correctly in front of everyone, you couldn’t help but wonder where exactly all that cheerful composure had been when he was with you?
“attendance is mandatory.” and then his gaze settled directly on yours, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he stared straight into your soul, the one he had almost taken from you a year ago. “of course, if you have to be absent, it’s not a problem, as long as it doesn’t happen often. i know some of you will be at the mall with friends. also i don’t grade by email; everything you do will be shown and discussed in class.”
the entire time he spoke, his eyes kept drifting back to you. when he paced slowly across the front of the room, even when he turned to answer someone else’s question, somehow his attention always circled back. for some reason, you held his gaze instead of looking away, and the longer you stared at him, the more that fear slowly faded until all that remained was pure hatred.
jeongin leaned slightly closer to you, lowering his voice into a teasing whisper. “well there goes our plan of skipping class to eat kfc… or getting more sleep,” he murmured, nudging your arm lightly.
thank god your best friends studied at different universities, otherwise they would have dragged you straight to the administration office and forced you to drop out for real. and honestly… you were starting to think about it yourself. the worst part was that you couldn’t switch the class for anything else. great, truly amazing. you were trapped for an entire semester.
“that’s everything for today,” yunho said after a while, clapping his hands together once as he was done answering questions and talking about cameras, “i won’t keep you any longer. enjoy the rest of your morning.”
chairs scraped across the floor as everyone began packing their things, the room filling with chatter again. you grabbed your purse quickly, already standing up before most people had even processed that the lecture was over. as you walked out with jeongin, you noticed a small crowd forming around the professor’s desk. a couple of boys and girls had already gathered there, asking questions, laughing at something he said, clearly eager to stay a little longer.
you didn’t even glance his way. no goodbye, or a polite “have a nice day”, because he didn’t deserve to have one. you just kept walking toward the door, hoping that you would manage to graduate before the sudden temptation to drop out started looking a little too appealing.
“your analysis lacks depth,” yunho says, placing your paper on his desk, making you scoff, since this is the third time now that he’s returned it for edits. lacks depth, he says… well, you did as well, asshole. if you had to edit one more thing, it honestly wouldn’t be that bad to buy a gun, and no, it definitely wouldn’t be pointed at your head.
every single tuesday he calls on you far too often in class. your assignments always come back covered in detailed comments, red ink everywhere like a declared war on your academics. you swear he’s grading you harder than everyone else, which honestly seems unfair to the people who are actually doing nothing. apparently, you’re the only one being treated like a social experiment.
“and what exactly do i need to change again, professor?” you ask, grinning through your teeth, burying every thought that would probably send you straight to jail under a perfectly fake smile. you’re this close from going insane, feeling that familiar anger rise again, the irritation that always appears when you’re forced to deal with someone you can’t stand.
for the last four weeks, your life has been hell, to say the least. during lectures he’ll ask a question, several hands go up while yours remain fiddling with a ballpoint pen, and yet he always picks you. and the first time you didn’t know the answer, what followed was a casual, “it would be nice to learn things before the test, hm?” which felt like complete humiliation, because beneath that joking tone there had been something that definitely wasn’t a joke.
once you and jeongin arrived ten minutes late, which honestly wasn’t even your fault. what were you supposed to do when your friend insisted on waiting for his coffee while there was already a long line that early in the morning? of course, a comment followed: “please be on time next time.” but when someone else walked in thirty minutes late during the same lecture, there were absolutely no remarks.
that’s exactly why you always come prepared with answers and make sure you’re always on time. you know his tricks far too well. no matter how charming his smile is, how sweetly he talks, how funny and relaxed he seems… it’s just one of his many masks. karina really was right about him being some kind of psychopath.
everyone else, unfortunately, loves the new professor. they talk about his fun classes, how nice he is, and how cool it is that he’s such a professional teaching them new techniques. some of your peers even linger after lectures just to chat with him. meanwhile, you sit there thinking that your older ex should seriously consider enrolling in acting instead of photography, because the performance he’s putting on deserves ample shiny awards proudly displayed on a goddamn mantlepiece.
the whole thing has turned into some twisted cat-and-mouse game. he teases, pushes, and provokes. you glare, don't bite back, and refuse to give him the reaction he clearly wants. despite all of that, he always finds his sneaky ways to make your life a little more miserable.
here and there, he calls you to his desk after class for absolutely no reason. “you should consider approaching a different lens for your next project,” like this couldn’t have easily been written in a single email. or he’ll start explaining camera settings you already know perfectly well, dragging the conversation out while the rest of the class disappears into the hallway.
and god forbid you see him outside the classroom. the moment you notice him walking down the hallway, you immediately pull a perfect one-eighty and walk in the opposite direction because you hate this man so fucking much, you refuse to breathe the same air as him.
what’s more upsetting is that you can’t even tell anyone. because if karina and yeji ever found out that your toxic ex-boyfriend was now your professor, they wouldn’t hesitate for a second before throwing a chair at him.
what you don’t know, however, is that he requested this university job partly because of you. actually, not partly at all, he knew exactly what he was doing. even when you were still together, he knew where you studied and what major you were in, just like you knew about his photography work. of course, teaching also gave him the chance to try something different in his career. and what better opportunity than this? his unbelievably beautiful ex-girlfriend just so happened to be one of his students, completely unplanned.
and it doesn’t stop there, oh no, everything is just starting.
jeongin begins to notice a pattern, which honestly isn’t hard to miss when during class yunho asks another question. probably ten hands rise into the air, but he still chooses you. your friend leans closer to your ear and whispers, “you must be his favorite~”
you stare at the board like you want to burn it down, alongside mister pretty devil himself, who of course, happens to wear clothes that fit his figure perfectly, fuck him honestly. “if i was his favorite, do you think i’d be studying camera obscura in this much detail?”
not to mention the way he addresses you with that smooth voice, softly calling you, “miss (name).” the moment you hear it, it’s game over. you have to respond with “yes, professor,” or “yes, sir,” like some twisted academic roleplay you never signed up for. it makes you want to vomit, bleach both your eyes and your trachea. you hate his guts so much. he has always liked being in control, and now he has it again, at least within the walls of this campus. outside of it, however, he has absolutely none.
when it comes to homework and assignments, everyone else receives short feedback, brief but explanatory enough to understand their mistakes, things like: “good composition” or, “nice lighting” and even, “if you try a black and white effect, it might work better.”
your feedback, on the other hand, is practically a full essay. it could probably qualify as a documentary script because he covers everything, even the tiniest details. he has a ridiculously keen eye for things, which apparently also makes him a professional at being a complete jerk who picks on you for absolutely no reason.
“your framing… well, it’s technically correct,” he muses, tapping the printed photo with his finger exactly where he seems most dissatisfied, “but technically correct isn’t the same as emotionally effective.”
you want to throw your camera at him and shove the lens straight down his throat, as the class sits there admiring him. “wow, professor jeong gives such thoughtful feedback.”
it also happens that he’s constantly spammed with emails from students asking if their work is passable or what more they can do to improve their visuals, so eventually he announces loudly, “if anyone needs extra help, my office hours are wednesday and thursday afternoon.”
later that same day, only you receive an email: “your project concept has potential. come to discuss it.”
you go, of course, because you care about the grade. knocking on the door to his office, and he lets you in, acting like the two of you are complete strangers. the entire conversation stays professional, purely academic, every word measured, but the tension makes your heartbeat faster. after ten painfully long minutes, you finally stand to leave, and just as your hand reaches the door, he says, that same smile on his face, “don’t sabotage your own work out of stubbornness.”
almost slamming the door behind you, but you need to have self-control and not let him know that you are slowly losing your cool.
it goes without saying that the girls in the course absolutely adore him. some of them simp for him, always giggling and gossiping. “the way he looked at me today… he said he is single, so do you think i have a chance?” or “he’s literally the most handsome professor here, why isn’t my boyfriend like him?”
you almost choke hearing that, because you know the other version of him. the one who used to kiss apologies into your neck after fights. the one whose hands knew every point of your body andwho knew you better than you knew yourself. fingers that always seemed to know exactly where to press, where to… why are you even thinking about that?
during one of his lectures, yunho suddenly says something that makes your stomach twist.
“photography is about obsession. you need to want the subject more than anything else. you have to focus on it completely if you want to capture the perfect shot.”
you freeze, eyes widening slightly at his words, because you know exactly how obsessive he can be. yunho glances at you, that smug little smile appears again, and he continues the lecture as if nothing happened.
it’s almost nightfall when the young professor arrived home. he dropped onto the couch, leaving his bag on the floor beside it, his head falling back against the cushions as he stretched his legs over the small wooden table and stretched his arms up above his head.
he exhaled once, then again, tapping his thigh with his fingers in the quiet that filled the apartment. the silence didn’t last long before a small laugh slipped past his lips. he closed his eyes, and of course, you appeared in his mind again. you were constantly there, living somewhere between his thoughts and his heart, occupying space you had no right to anymore.
weren’t you just adorable? each and every time you walked into class, you were dressed better than everyone else, always prepared and looking at him with that sneer that no one else seemed to notice. not even your deskmate, the one he sometimes caught himself glaring at out of pure irritation and jealousy, though he knew jeongin wasn’t any real threat.
you were his muse, his fallen angel, the pliable doll he had once controlled so carefully until two other puppets, your dear best friends, stepped in and cut the marionette strings, ruining the entire show. you had been so kind-hearted and obedient, so sweet and perfectly made for him… but everything had ended so quickly.
yunho knew exactly how to push your buttons; it was too easy for him. he watched every little reaction, the glares you tried to hide behind forced politeness. he fed on it more than he probably should have. still obsessed with you and completely unable to let go, hiding it well enough behind the role of a professor.
you were his one weakness, the sensitive gap between two ribs guarding the heart he had, the one thing that made the control he prided himself on slip through his fingers. he had never stopped loving you, at least not in his own twisted way. goddamnit, you looked like an absolute doll today. the dress, the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the gloss on your lips. were you going on a date with someone? with who? when? where? normally he would have known already. the thought made his jaw tighten slightly, tongue pushing the inside of his cheek. if it wasn’t for the university schedule taking up so much of his time lately, he would have kept better track of things. he hoped you weren’t going on a date with anyone.
reaching for his phone, unlocking it as he opened one of the many accounts he used. your instagram appeared on the screen, and even though your profile was private, that had never really stopped him. the pretty much convincing fake account had been accepted months ago and you had never questioned it. he doesn’t just have one fake account, there are several, each with a different purpose: one follows you, the second follows your friends, the third follows men who comment on your photos.
his thumb scrolled slowly through the posts, stopping at one in particular.
you standing by the ocean with goldensunlight catching your skin, wearing that stupidly beautiful dress that he bought. the same vacation he had surprised you with, and the irony was that he had been the one holding the camera when those pictures were taken, and then his scrolling stopped when he saw you had a story posted.
you sitting across from someone in a restaurant, a glass in your hand, smiling. the caption tagged someone… jaemin? the quiet apartment suddenly didn’t feel so quiet anymore. yunho stared at the screen a little longer than necessary, his fingers tightening slightly around the phone. he decided to do his research, and within minutes, he knew jaemin’s major, his other social media, his schedule and which classes he attends.
“so you were going on dates now, huh?” his hand ran slowly across his face before he leaned back against the couch again, letting out a low breath that almost sounded like a mocking laugh. he shouldn’t care, and what’s left of his sanity knew that, but something in his chest twisted like a scalding hot knife. the truth was simple, and it irritated him more than anything else.
his home still has traces of you. your favorite mug still in the kitchen, a sweater you forgot draped over a chair, the perfume bottle you left behind on the bathroom counter. he hasn’t moved them at all, so when passing them he’ll sometimes pause, observing your belongings like they’re priceless artifacts he forever wants to keep.
a drawer in his desk contains a perfectly organized stack of polaroids. shots he took of you while you were dating, containing multiple domestic situations of you laughing on the beach, asleep on his shoulder and drooling, you looking annoyed while he teased you endlessly, you wearing his hoodie… there’s a lot, some even nudes taken during private moments when you trusted him. nothing is displayed openly, but preserved with a date written on the back, sometimes a short note, things like mine or xoxo.
as a photographer, he justifies it to himself as art. in his mind those photos were the purest versions of you, deleting them would feel like destroying masterpieces. the man doesn’t see anything wrong with it. they were taken with consent back then, and the memories belong to him, so he never questions keeping them.
though, admittedly, yunho still adds to the collection with printed screenshots from your instagram stories. blurry shots of you crossing campus, a candid photo of you mid-laughter taken from far away during a university event. he keeps a hidden folder on his computer, where inside are hundreds of photos and videos, not just from when you dated, but also recent ones.
sometimes he records his lectures for teaching review, as the university demands, and in private, he’ll rewind parts where you speak. listening again, and again, and again, so he can get off with his dick in hand, trying to chase his high from being turned on by watching you argue with him in class. she still looks at me the same way… anger is better than indifference. your hatred is still attention, and attention for men like him is oxygen.
he studies those images and compares them to how you look in class now. noticing the differences in the way you dress, how you glare at him and refuse to look at him too long… she pretends she doesn’t belong to me anymore.
also your old professor who retired? yunho knew her; she was a well-known photographer in seoul, a colleague of his whose exhibitions he had attended more than once over the years. during a gallery event, the two of them talked for a while, as she casually mentioned that she would be retiring soon and that the university needed someone to take her place. then she also mentioned that one of her best students would be graduating soon. the way she spoke about that student caught yunho’s attention immediately. the woman even pulled out her phone, scrolling through photos from one of the class exhibitions before zooming in on a familiar face — yours.
the elder woman happily explained how talented you were, the potential you had and how you were easily one of her favorites.
that was when he applied to the university, under her recommendation.
yunho finally stood from the couch and walked toward his bedroom. he opened the drawer of his bedside table, reaching inside until his fingers brushed against a familiar photograph: a polaroid from two years ago.
you were laughing in it, leaning slightly toward a cake with him beside you on your 22nd birthday. the faint lipstick mark you had playfully pressed onto the corner of the photo was still there, and he ran his thumb slowly over it. he just stared at it, placing the polaroid carefully on the nightstand beside his phone and the nightlamp. when he finally lay down under the covers, the photograph remained within reach, the faint outline of your smile visible in the dim light.
he closed his eyes, hoping, as he drifted toward sleep, that maybe tonight you would appear in his dreams.
fridays are always a godsend, especially after sitting through a lecture with the devil the day before. anything feels better after that, especially when you’re out for lunch with jaemin. sunlight spilling through the windows, soft chatter around you, and for the first time in a while you feel at ease. he insisted on paying, of course, saying something about how you “deserve to be spoiled properly,” and honestly… you didn’t argue.
he knows what you like. not in a suffocating way that feels like he’s memorized you without permission. but in a very gentle and attentive way.
“are you free tomorrow?” he asks, stealing a bite of your cake like it’s his.
“i wish,” you sigh. “i have to attend a birthday party with my parents.”
“mm,” he hums, pretending to think, though the smile on his lips gives him away. “guess i’ll have to reschedule my very important plan of kidnapping you for the evening.”
you chuckle softly, taking another bite of the sweet treat. “you’re not funny.”
“i’m hilarious,” he corrects you, lifting his index finger. “you’re just in denial.”
rolling your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile that appears on your face. the thing you really liked about jaemin was how sweet-talking and funny he was, knowing what to say at any given moment. he has this mischievous side, but he was also very loving and attractive.
“i was going to ask you to come over,” he adds more quietly, almost shy beneath the teasing. “but… another time.”
that makes you pause, because he doesn’t push or corner you. more so, never demands you to be with him and cancel any plans you have already made with someone else. it’s like an option, not an expectation. there’s no hidden trap set ahead of time for you to fall into.
“maybe next weekend?” you echo, that playful tone came as you asked him, looking at him for a moment, and then down at the already finished cake. and that’s enough for him. his bright and boyish grin returns instantly, like he didn’t just make your heart skip.
“see? progress. next thing you know, you’ll admit you like me.”
“don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warn, pointing your fork at him.
“too late, i already did.”
“jaemin–”
“what?” he leans in slightly, eyes sparkling with that same mischievousness. “you gonna hit me?”
you narrow your eyes. “if you keep talking, maybe.”
he gasps dramatically, pretending to be scared for his life, “not the man-hater queen threatening violence again.”
“i am not a man-hater!”
“you are when it comes to me.”
“you’re annoying.”
“and who is paying the bill?”
that shuts you up completely. instead of teasing you more, he just smiles, playfully winking at you, letting you have that moment.
after lunch, he insists on walking you to the mall so you can meet up with karina and yeji. it’s not far, twenty minutes at most, but he acts like it’s a whole event, a met gala of sorts, and you should be escorted like the princess you are. you walk side by side, hands brushing at first, then naturally finding each other, fingers lacing together. the weather is warm for the autumn season. leaves crunch when people pass by, cars hum in the distance, and for a while, you forget about yunho and about everything.
jaemin talks about random things like how he and jeno tried to summon ghosts as kids, jokes about what he saw online, and somehow, you’re laughing again without having to worry or trying to come up with excuses or reasons of how you can be so happy when something else gives you joy? he looks at you with adoration in his eyes and that’s what makes you feel safe.
when you reach the mall, he slows down, not letting go of your hand immediately. he lingers for a second, like he wants to say something else, then just smiles.
“have fun, man-hater queen.”
“thank you, cake thief.”
he laughs, finally letting go but not before leaving a quick, soft kiss on your cheek. “text me when you get home,” he says, and you nod, a little stunned by this bold yet sweet gesture. he walks off with a smile, and your best friends are already waiting for you inside at the usual meeting spot.
the moment karina spots you, she’s already sprinting, grabbing yeji by the wrist and dragging her along like she’s on a mission. it’s been weeks since you last saw each other, university has been kicking all of your asses, and you didn’t realize how much you needed this until now.
“(name), babe, how are you? you don’t know how much we missed you,” karina squeals, letting go of yeji just to throw her arms around you in a near-death hug. you laugh, breath knocked out of you for a second before hugging her back.
“i missed you, too,” you manage, and then yeji is right there, pulling you into her own hug, softer but just as tight. “and you don’t know what i have to tell you.”
“jaemin?” they ask in unison, already cocking their brows up.
“how did you know?”
yeji nodded her head towards the glass storefront behind you. “we can literally see you from outside.”
“he walked you here, didn’t he?” karina snorts and you don’t even deny it. that’s enough to send both of them into giggles as they hook their arms through yours, dragging you further into the mall.
the next hour follows it’s rhythm. gossip, teasing, overlapping conversations, with you telling them about jaemin and the date earlier, how attentive he is without being overbearing. sometimes you catch yourself thinking you don’t deserve someone like that. someone so patient and sweet, but karina shuts that down immediately, while yeji nods along, reminding you that the bare minimum just feels extraordinary after what you’ve been through.
what you don’t tell them… is everything else. you don’t mention yunho, not a single word leaves your mouth. it sits somewhere in the back of your mind, tucked away like it doesn’t even exist. they deserve to know, you know they do, but you don’t even know where to start, or how they’d react. and… you’re not ready for that, to lose them, so you stay quiet. maybe sometimes silence is the solution.
you move from store to store, bags slowly piling up in your hands. makeup is a priority, you’re running low, and soon enough, you’re standing in front of rows of lipsticks, testing shades against your skin. just for a second in your peripheral vision, you catch a tall figure, standing a few meters away. you turn your head, and nothing. you blink, frowning slightly. that’s… weird. you could’ve sworn someone was there.
“(name), come here, we found the new face masks,” yeji pops up out of nowhere, grabbing your arm and pulling you along before you can think about it too much. “they’re not even that expensive like everyone says.”
letting yourself be dragged away as the rest of the day passes in a blur of chatter and shopping bags. trying on clothes and spending money like you were the granddaughter of a very wealthy ceo. maybe in a past life you were rich, because right now, money seems to disappear the second it touches your hands.
by the time you finally sit down for coffee, you take a slow sip of your ice-cold drink, letting the sweetness settle on your tongue as you listen to karina and yeji talk. your social battery was starting to fade, and you were also running out of things to gossip about, content on just listening instead of talking.
for a moment, everything is fine as it should be, until you get that feeling again, like someone’s watching. you glance up, eyes scanning the space around you, but everything looks normal. people talking, walking, laughing, nothing out of place…. you shift slightly in your seat, fingers tightening around your cup. probably your brain is messing up with you after the tiring day you had.
the day started on like that — him following, and you being completely unaware.
he saw you earlier and was there during the whole date. he doesn’t hate jaemin even if jealousy spikes, but he quickly calms himself down. the younger man is just a temporary placeholder, a distraction you picked up because you didn’t know what else to do with the space yunho left behind. his tongue presses briefly against the inside of his cheek, a habit surfacing whenever irritation starts to settle in. he already knows what to order; he’s been here before… with you. at this restaurant, same table across the room, known for its delicate pasta and overly sweet desserts you always claimed you wouldn’t finish.
it’s wrong, not because you’re laughing and enjoying yourself, but because it’s not with him.
he watches the way jaemin leans in when he talks, how quickly he smiles, casually reaching for your plate, how comfortable he acts like he’s already earned a place he doesn’t deserve. jaemin doesn’t notice the smaller things like the shift in your posture, the way your fingers tighten around your fork when you’re thinking too much, the way your eyes drift when your mind starts wandering. he sees what’s in front of him, nothing more.
yunho sees everything.
he doesn’t need to chase you. he never will. you come back on your own. anger, frustration, curiosity, it doesn’t matter what drives you, it always leads back to him. because no one else will ever know how to handle you the way he does. he doesn’t want a version of you that’s easy. he wants the one who pushes and bites back to keep the spark alive.
you think you hate him, he can see it in your eyes. hatred means you still care; you react because you are affected. indifference would be a problem. but you’re not indifferent, just confused, pretending not to see what’s already there. he missed you. not just your voice, your presence, or your body. he missed this, the way you draw him in without even trying, like a moth to a flame.
he could have walked up to you right now. say your name to strike up a conversation as your professor. what a coincidence, right? you and he in the same place, at the same time, ordering the same food. your expression would drastically change; he knows exactly what it would look like. he’s imagined it enough times, but he doesn’t move.
he doesn’t rush things anymore, learning that the hard way. you need to feel like you have space and the freedom to choose. so he waits, and that’s fine, yunho understands. after all, you’re already his… you just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.
it was getting late, and when you finally said goodbye to your friends, he’s already on the move. you don’t seem to notice how he chooses the same subway train, standing where the reflection in the window does the work for him, watching you through the blur of the passing lights and shadows.
you’re on your phone for a while, and by the movement of your fingers, you are scrolling through instagram or tiktok. then you are staring ahead, you always get like this when your energy runs out. he knows the exact moment your thoughts start drifting and when exhaustion takes over.
someone dares to look at you for too long. yunho burns holes with bloodshot eyes as the stranger looks away. the train slows at your stop, and you step out. he follows by matching your speed, always out of sight. footsteps always a few seconds behind, stops when you stop. he’s walked this path more times than you’d ever guess. yunho’s gaze moves over everything on the street: the corners, people walking and the cars passing by, the distance between you and anything that could get too close.
you reach your building and pause for a second, opening your purse for your keys. he’s already stopped, waiting for you to step inside. the door closes behind you, as he stays where he is. his eyes lift, scanning the building, counting without thinking how long it would take to reach your floor… it should be one minute and twenty-three seconds.
he waits a little longer, enough to see the second light flicker in your bedroom. it’s the same every night with him walking you back home. what if you hadn’t come back alone? what if some creep had followed you? that wouldn’t have ended well, not for them.
his shoulders finally relax as he turns away. to anyone else, that would be the end of it. just a random man on the street… even if his home is in the opposite direction, thirty-five minutes away. hands sliding into his pockets, the quiet jingle of metal breaks the silence with each step. a small cluster of keys, shifting against each other, and one tucked among them does not belong to him. his thumb brushes over it absentmindedly; it has always been there.
yunho still has a key to your place. sometimes he visits when you’re not there, and he always knows when that is. why does he do it? even the divine beings don’t seem interested in answering that, and they don’t want to interfere either. what is he doing in your apartment? nothing, he goes there when he wants to rest. he doesn’t move things around or leave signs. he just sits on your couch and enjoys the atmosphere you created.
your bedroom door stays open, so he doesn’t need to enter to know if anything has changed. he’s like a ghost, maybe a poltergeist, one that doesn't haunt by moving objects but stealing them instead.
he opens drawers sometimes. the most familiar one is always the same — the drawer with your underwear. never takes anything new or expensive, always the ones at the bottom. old pairs, the pieces you don’t think about anymore, and you wouldn’t even notice are missing.
it’s proximity, a way for him to be close to you, or for you to be close to him.
in the living room, there’s a plush toy you never threw away. he gave it to you when you celebrated your six-month anniversary. it still sits in its place, untouched and harmless-looking. except it isn’t. inside it, carefully hidden where no one would think to look, is a small camera. he watches from time to time, when he needs to. nothing invasive, just enough for him to see you when you’re home.
someone has to make sure you get home safe, even if you don’t know it, and if it has to be him, then so be it.
your father had a lot of friends, and it just so happened that your family was invited to mr. kim’s 50th birthday, an anniversary celebrated in a rather grand and luxurious way. honestly, it felt more like a wedding than a birthday… but either way, it was still an occasion for drinking. people of notoriety greeted each other left and right, laughter and chatter filling the air, until the man of the hour finally made his entrance, the one who had every right to celebrate until the very last drop and bite were gone.
“if this isn’t my one and only goddaughter?” it should probably be mentioned that this kind and ridiculously rich man was your godfather. no blood relation, but he had always been like an uncle to you. the affluent one who spoiled you endlessly as a child, giving you everything you wanted, because clearly your parents failed to treat you like the princess you deserved to be.
“happy birthday, uncle minseok!” you said, stepping forward to hug him, genuinely happy to see him. the gifts were still left by the entrance, but you always had your own little privileges. “this is for you, i hope you like it… even if you are getting old.”
inside the small wrapped bag was a simple package of marshmallows, as your mother immediately noticed, lightly tapping your shoulder. “(name), this is inappropriate.”
“calm down,” minseok laughed warmly, taking the bag from your hands without a second thought. “she knows exactly what to give someone.” he glanced at you with a grin, because this candy has become very significant during the years, something small but from the heart. “thank you, my dear. you’ll get the second piece of cake.”
the evening continued with drinks being passed around, conversations flowing about business, and whatever gossip caught your ear. at some point, your godfather rested a hand on your shoulder, “come, there’s someone i want you to meet,” he said casually, guiding you through the crowd. “a very dear friend of mine, and an excellent photographer. you might learn a thing or two.”
you didn’t think much of it at first, nodding as you followed along, heels clicking softly against the polished floor, your drink still in hand. this would be just another introduction for you to smile at a stranger. this would hopefully be someone you could form a connection with to help you in the future when you do decide to pursue a career, but just like that, everything in your body turned upside down. your entire world tilted and your pulse quickened, because of course it had to be him.
dressed like absolute sin in a suit that made it painfully obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. professional and put together… but unlike on campus, where he toned it down by being casual and relatable to young people your age, here amongst people closer to his age and high calibre, he wasn’t holding back. the clothes fit him perfectly, outlining his frame in a way that makes you force yourself not to react — masking your expression into something neutral that doesn't scream what the hell are you doing here.
“yunho,” minseok called out, catching his attention. “ah, perfect timing, indeed. i want you to meet someone.”
yunho turned, and for a split second, his eyes met yours. there it was, that familiar recognition, gone just as quickly as it appeared. his own expression of shock smoothed out instantly, slipping into that same composed mask you had grown to despise.
“this is my goddaughter, (name),” minseok continued proudly, squeezing your shoulders by the exposed skin your dress created. “she’s studying photography as well.”
you swallowed and played along, like you were meeting him for the very first time. as if you didn’t know the way his hands felt, or how his voice sounded when it wasn’t calm and controlled, the way he used to look at you when no one else was around… as if you hadn’t let him take your virginity.
“it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, offering your hand with a polite smile that stung like acid to hold. his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he took it. warm and bigger than yours, soft too, just like it always has been, perfectly made to fit.
“the pleasure is all mine, miss (name),” yunho replied, smiling at you, and god, you hate how natural he makes it sound, like you’re nothing more than a stranger he’s just been introduced to. but of course, he doesn’t stop there. the pad of his thumb brushes lightly against your knuckles before he lets go.
it wasn’t awkward, more like… unsettling in a way that made your skin itch. it wasn’t just that you saw him every week at the university, no, now he was here too, at an event where you were supposed to have fun, not stand there thinking of at least five different ways to get away with his murder. your godfather, completely unaware of the tension, patted your shoulder before turning to yunho. “i’ll leave her in your care, and (name), you might want to take some photos now that it’s still not too crowded. have fun, kiddos.”
and just like that, minseok walked away, leaving you alone with the man you hated the most.
your blood started boiling like molten lava almost instantly. the fake smile dropped the second his back disappeared into the crowd, your nails digging into your palms as you inhaled slowly through your nose and you stared at yunho with pure and undisguised hatred.
"you know it's not very polite to stare." he was fixing something on the camera, or looking at photos, you didn't know, but you knew one thing, and that was that you hated him. “so, how is your project going? did you fix what i told you to?”
you stiffen for a split second, your smile tightening as you look at him, because of course he would say that here, of all places, since he just couldn’t resist torturing outside campus.
“i wasn’t aware this was a consultation,” you reply sweetly, but your tone carries that hostile warning of a bark that tells him you are about to bite like an angry dog.
“old habits,” he hummed softly, deleting a few blurred pictures.
“yeah?” you shot back, one eyebrow rising, “then maybe you should work on dropping a few of them.”
“that explains a lot.” the way he calmly answers makes you want to punch him.
“explains what exactly? you enjoying your little performance? you’re very convincing, i’ll give you that.”
“i don’t know what you mean,” he says lightly, though the way he looks at you says the exact opposite. liar. something about the way you’re talking back instead of ignoring him, clearly tells him one thing — you haven’t moved on completely.
“you still get worked up so easily,” murmuring almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.
“you still talk too much,” you snapped, and he took a step closer, enough to close some of the distance, his presence more noticeable and intimidating, and you sometimes forget how tall he actually is.
a small smile tugged at his lips because, truth be told, he was enjoying this far too much. his eyes were scanning your face, studying every reaction of the grimace you tried so hard to hide. you scoffed, crossing your arms, tapping your freshly done nails against your skin, irritation written all over, and for a moment neither of you spoke. the noise of the party faded into the background as the tension stretched like silk almost pulled to the point of tearing between you.
then yunho exhaled softly, removing the camera strap from his head, he closed the lens cap and put it back in the small bag, leaving it on the desk he evidently used for work here.
“what about we take a walk?” yunho suddenly suggests, tone light, sounding harmless and innocent. “talk a few things out. it seems like you have a lot to say.”
you should have said no. you should’ve walked straight back to your parents while ignoring him like you’ve been fighting tooth and nail to do, but somehow… you didn’t. maybe it was the tone of his voice, coaxing you with the way he said it like a suggestion, not a command, even though it somehow felt like one. or maybe it was just him, knowing exactly what to say, with just the right intonation for invitation.
“fine,” you muttered, big mistake.
he guided you through the venue, away from the main crowd and toward a quieter part of the hotel where the noise began to dull and the lights softened because fewer people meant fewer distractions. now it’s just you and him, the way he’s been craving and aching for.
then he stopped.
reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. you frowned slightly as he pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips before lighting it and exhaling slowly, white smoke curling between the two of you before dissipating into the air.
“you’re smoking again?”
“you’re staring again.”
“i’m judging,” you correct. “i thought you quit.”
“i did,” he agrees, “for you.”
then he takes another drag, eyes never leaving yours, but you know you were the main reason, if not the only one, for him to quit. you hated the smell and the taste that transferred once you shared a kiss. or two. or dozen… neither of you ever bothered to count.
“stress does things, work, life… you find ways to relieve the tension,” he continues after a moment, carefully choosing every word to get a reaction out of you. he shares just enough, mentioning that the workload and the pressure made him go back to this bad habit, skimming over the real reason without ever actually saying it — the break up. of course, he wouldn’t admit that to you. he never gives you the full truth, only carefully selected pieces.
and as he speaks, you find yourself checking him out. you feel steel heavy shame that you are, but you can’t help it. he looks… good. no, that’s an understatement. dressed like he stepped out of some magazine, a black coat draped over his broad shoulders, a clean white button-up tucked neatly under a fitted black vest, finished off with a loosely worn black satin tie. as much as you want to deny it, to lie to yourself, roll your eyes… you can’t. when it comes to jeong yunho, all bets are off, because he’s so fucking hot.
yunho stubs out the cigarette, pressing it into the ashtray beside him. you’re both sitting on the edge of a small staircase, tucked away from most of the guests, the noise of the party distant like background static.
then, without much thought, he shrugs off his coat and throws it over his shoulder. the movement is simple, but it draws your attention to his rolled sleeves, exposing his slim but defined forearms, his veins faintly visible under the skin. his cords of muscle hold subtle tension that make it really goddamn difficult not to look. it gives him this quiet intensity, composed on the surface but never fully restrained underneath. a wildfire raging beneath a perfectly composed surface.
you really try to look away, only to realize something else, that you didn’t bring a jacket. you’re wearing a short black dress, feminine shoulders bare, the evening air cooler than you expected. it hadn’t mattered before since you won’t stay outside the venue all night, and yet before you can even think about it properly, warmth settles around you.
snapping out of your thoughts, your gaze shifts downward to see his coat now draped around your shoulders. when you look up, yunho is already adjusting his sleeves again, completely unfazed, like the gesture means nothing at all.
“so,” he says casually, sitting down beside you on the staircase, spreading his legs slightly as he leans back on one hand, the other idly flipping his metal lighter open and closed, “graduating soon, right? any plans career-wise?”
it catches you off guard. you almost scoff, because wasn’t he the one who suggested this, the one who said you had a lot to say. the truth is, you don’t, at least not to him. now he’s the one guiding the conversation somewhere… normal. like so normal that you’re not sitting next to your ex, who is actively messing with your head.
“i’m planning to try abroad.”
“where?”
“i’m not going to tell you,” you glance at him, narrowing your eyes slightly. “don’t want you suddenly becoming my coworker.”
that earns a chuckle from him. “you really think i’d follow you that far?”
you don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure he wouldn’t. he makes it very clear that he is not talking about your career. the silence settles again, but it doesn’t feel empty. it feels intentional, as if he’s waiting for the exact right moment to put the puzzle piece into place.
you shift slightly on the step, exhaling through your nose, trying to ignore how aware you are of him sitting so close beside you. the party noise is distant now, blurred into nothing. now it’s just the two of you, tucked away in a space that suddenly feels too small… then he speaks again.
“are you seeing someone right now?”
your eyes flick to him immediately, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a proper answer. “none of your business.”
no reaction at first, just the soft click of his lighter opening again. the small flame appears, disappears, and flickers back to life as he plays with it absentmindedly. it’s almost hypnotic, the rhythm of it: small flame, bigger flame, gone again. he’s buying time, or making you sit in discomfort a little longer than necessary. you stare at it longer than you should, trying to steady yourself. it’s stupid, but it gives your eyes somewhere else to go and your mind something else to focus on.
he exhales quietly, then the lighter closes with a soft snap, and he looks at you.
“jaemin, right?” he says like he’s commenting on the weather. “he seems like a nice guy, but doesn’t seem like your type.”
everything in you stops, freezes like you’ve just touched a block of ice. your entire body goes still for half a second too long andyour expression betrays you before you can even think to control it. it’s shock at first, then disbelief, because you never told him a name, or anything of the sort. never even showed signs of you being involved with someone else.
your mind starts racing immediately — how does he know that? how long has he known? what else does he know?
only a few people know you’ve been seeing jaemin, and yes, you do post stories with him just like you do with the other people you trust, people who wouldn’t… your fingers tighten unconsciously around the fabric of his coat still resting on your shoulders.
“how do you know that?” your voice comes out lower than you intended. yunho tilts his head slightly, observing a reaction he already predicted, since just confirmed something he was quietly testing. a faint smirk pulls at his lips, he shrugs, leaning back on one hand as his gaze stays fixed on you.
“you’re the campus's new hotshot couple,” lies, obvious lies. you know it, he knows it, but the confidence in his voice makes it sound real. rumors, gossip, students talking, maybe someone exaggerating something they saw, but nothing that should have him perfectly informed with a name.
you don’t even realize your grip has tightened until the fabric of his coat shifts slightly under your fingers.
“relax, i’m not interfering.” but his tone says otherwise, “you can date whoever you want.”
you can't because you are mine.
yunho doesn’t move away while talking; he closes the distance slowly instead, testing exactly how far you’ll let him go before you stop him. knee brushing yours, nudging you teasingly, he doesn’t break eye contact, and doesn’t give you space to believe or question anything. because the way he says it doesn’t sound like permission, it sounds like ownership he’s pretending not to enforce.
“you lost the right to care about who i see a long time ago.”
oh?
amused by how you’re trying so hard to stand your ground, trembling just beneath the surface. it’s beautiful like that, so unfiltered and honest. aren’t you the prettiest little angel when you’re angry? when you’re fighting him, resisting him, convincing yourself you’ve moved on. it’s almost impressive, and adorable. your will is always too big for your own good, too loud to stay buried, always insisting things should go your way, even when reality bends differently once he is in the picture.
he’s memorizing it all over again with the way your breath changes when he gets too close, the way you refuse to look away even when it would be easier. your eyes are the most dangerous part of you, he decides. they’re full of everything at once — malice, frustration, sadness you pretend isn’t there, excitement you refuse to acknowledge. a fire that burns brighter than the weak flicker of the lighter between his fingers earlier. a fire that could bring him to his knees if he let it.
but he won’t, he knows how to protect himself.
he knows you better than anyone else ever has. better than those two annoying best friends of yours, than jeongin, better than jaemin, even your parents. better than the version of yourself you try to present to the world.
yunho doesn’t need to chase because he knows your anger will bring you to him. he doesn’t need to beg, either. not when pulling the right strings of your nervous system is far more satisfying, watching you unravel and logic slipping away piece by piece until all that’s left is emotion, exactly how he wants you. he doesn’t need you rational, he needs you emotional. to destabilize you until you’re reacting instead of analyzing, feeling instead of understanding, until you’re his again in everything but name.
your thoughts slow, your focus breaks, you start reacting instead of thinking… just like he planned.
it’s sudden when it happens, you grab his collar, and before he can even fully process it, you pull him in and kiss him. not what people would call romantic, it’s out of pure spite and the need to shut him up. it’s messy, all teeth and frustration and months of things left unsaid. it’s the words i hate you pressed into his mouth like a punishment.
yunho doesn’t take control immediately. he lets you bite his lip and put all that frustration finally into something tangible, lets you pretend this is just about physically shutting him up. yunho lets you have your moment of control, an illusion of victory, because he can feel you’re not over him… should the fact that he isn’t over you either be good or bad news?
only then does he finally respond, when your breath catches in that familiar way, something in him snaps as he kisses you back. the taste is noticeably bitter, ashy, and slightly stale. a trace of smoke still clings to him, dry against your tongue with that faint chemical edge, following the chemical romance between you that has no clear answer or reaction to this day, only that it is intense.
his lips part slightly against yours, the movement slow, testing. he deepens the kiss, blurring the line between hesitation and intent, one hand sliding up to your neck, fingers resting there, guiding rather than forcing. he pulls you closer, and the way your breath stutters in the gorgeous column of your throat, the way your body reacts to his body without thinking, tells him everything he needs to know.
then, just as suddenly, he stops. not pulling away completely, neither of you really wants to break it, but he’s the one who finally pulls back first. you’re left staring at each other, chests inviting air in and out in hurried paces to catch your breaths.
“you look at me like you hate me…” and doesn’t seem like you want to stop, though. “but you always looked at me like that.”
there’s something in his expression, satisfaction, like your reaction alone is enough. your breathing is uneven, lips slightly parted, and you hate how aware you are of him again: how close he is and how familiar it feels. your lipstick is slightly smudged, some of it transferred onto him, and the sight alone makes something twist in your stomach.
because you want more, but you don’t want to want him.
this is wrong on so many levels, kissing your ex out of nowhere, yet your body remembers him far too well, as it responds far too much. it’s frustrating, confusing, and addicting in a way you wish it wasn’t. what are you even supposed to do now?
“this isn’t a good place…” he says after a moment, glancing briefly toward the direction of the party before looking back at you. “…unless you want an audience.”
and suddenly it feels like the decision is yours, except it isn’t. because the way he looks at you says he already knows what you’ll choose.
by the time you are fully recovered his hand is already around yours, fingers lacing, as his grip doesn’t loosen, not once, he already knows you won’t pull away. he starts walking and you’re just following along without questioning it.
away from the crowd, into the quieter parts of the hotel, the lobby is nearly empty, the noise fading behind you as he moves straight for the elevators. he presses the button, and as if perfectly timed, the doors slide open to an empty cabin.
you step inside, and the moment the doors close behind you, the space feels smaller and tighter. mirrors line the walls, reflecting everything from every angle. no matter where you look, it’s him first and only then, you.
yunho and mirrors are a dangerous combination, because he doesn’t just want to feel you, he wants to watch you feel him and memorise the way you submit to his touch each and every time he manages to catch you. standing behind you, his taller frame hovering close, his chest warm against your back even if he doesn’t fully press himself in. still, if you lean back even slightly, he knows he has you.
his lips brush your shoulder, not quite a kiss, more like a promise of one. he makes you aware of everything — your breathing, the expression on your pretty face, how close you really are to him. one hand slides low, brushing your thigh right where the hem of your dress ends, while the other rises to your face. his soft fingers tilt your chin upward. he doesn’t need to do much to make you go insane; his voice does most of the work, not his body.
“all that attitude, and look at you now,” murmuring right next to your ear. the hand resting on your thigh doesn’t move further, and somehow you react more to what almost happens than to what actually does. as if hypnotized, trying to hold onto some sense of control, but it’s slipping fast, because your eyes betray you again. “is that really how someone looks when they want me gone?”
he doesn’t think of himself as a freak about it. he just likes watching, prefers you vulnerable like this. his eyes never leave your reflection, taking in the way your lips part, your lashes flutter, the way you try to close your eyes against how overwhelming it feels.
“don’t close your eyes, doll.” his voice is low, slightly rougher, his fingers tightening just a little on your jaw. you forgot how much you loved being called that, and how much it didn't help your attempts at resistance. “i want you to see what i’m doing to you.”
the hand on your leg slips beneath your dress until it finds the soft fabric of your panties, and you’re already so wet. his fingers press against you through the material, enough to make your breath hitch while moving in a slow and controlled rhythm as you squirm in result. your back arches finally pressing into him, and he exhales softly against your ear, completely obsessed with the sight of you falling apart in front of him.
“y-yun–” his name halfway leaves your lips in a soft whine, breaking into something breathier when he moves just right. he loves the way you say his name like it belongs in your mouth, and believe it or not, it’s already tattooed on your skin with invisible ink.
“keep looking.” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, guiding your attention back to the mirror. your thighs tremble, and your hands clutch at his forearm. the way your body reacts instantly, the way he has literal heart eyes when you make that sound again, his dick pulsating at the sight as he leans down slightly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “see how pretty you look like this?”
you move without thinking, pressing back against him, your legs drawing closer together as if it might help, when his name slips from your lips again, your eyes glossy, barely staying open like he told you to, he smiles faintly against your skin.
“good girl.” but being good doesn’t mean you get everything. if anything, it means the opposite, because he’s making you want it first. you feel it before you can think about it. he could push you further, make you admit things, but he knows you won’t, not yet.
a soft ding breaks through the moment. his gaze flicks up toward the numbers, 10th floor.
the doors are about to open, the risk of someone being there and catching you… and just like that, he stops. he withdraws, leaving you aching, breath uneven, your body still caught in the aftermath of something unfinished. the doors slide open, and thankfully, no one’s there. the hallway is empty; most guests are still downstairs celebrating, others are already asleep. not that he would care much… or maybe he would. yunho has never liked sharing or the idea of anyone else seeing what he considers his.
he reaches toward you again, and for a second you think… but no. his hand slips into the coat you’re still wearing, pulling out the key card from the inner pocket.
“come on, angel… we don’t have all night.” all night. you don’t even know what time it is. your purse is still downstairs, abandoned at the table with your parents, your phone out of reach, “need help walking?”
he asks, and that more than anything, pulls you back to reality. because when you glance at the mirror again, you finally see yourself properly. flushed and out of breath. your dress is slightly ridden up, your lips parted, your entire body still buzzing with heat that hasn’t gone anywhere. fuck. you’re left standing there, completely worked up, and he’s the only one who can do anything about it.
you know this is wrong, but your body isn’t listening. the empty hallway was your chance to leave, yet your feet never moved. you should have walked away, right then and there… so why didn’t you? zoning out and staring into the void of nothingness, thinking how no one can even compare and you hate that it’s still him who makes you lose your sanity. with yunho, it was never just attraction and maybe that’s the problem. you hate him. you hate this. you hate that you don’t hate it enough.
telling yourself you still have a choice, only that you don’t. because somehow, without realizing it, you’re already following him to his room. the door closes behind you with a quiet click that feels louder than it should, and suddenly you don’t move.
you don’t sit. you just stand there, near the edge of the bed, fingers fidgeting with the ends of the sleeves, pulling the fabric over your hands as if it might calm you somehow. your breathing still hasn’t settled, your body is still carrying everything from moments ago.
he moves further into the room as if you being here is expected and inevitable. his hand reaches up to his collar, his eyes don’t leave you, though, not once. fingers hooking under the knot of his tie, loosening it slowly, sliding it from around his neck, the fabric slipping through his fingers before he lets it hang loosely in his hand. he stands there too, looking at your posture, and the way you haven’t dared to sit or do anything at all.
his lips twitch slightly when your fingers pause for half a second, then continue. you don’t dare to talk, you don’t trust your voice right now. he takes a step closer, then another, slowly closing the space between you until it feels suffocating again, and you’re aware of him in the same way you were in the elevator.
“take a seat,” he says softly, “you don’t have to stand there like that,” and you obey.
you sit right at the edge of the bed, back straight, still clutching the sleeves, as yunho watches you for a moment longer. then, without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself not onto the bed, but down, kneeling in front of you.
it shouldn’t feel the way it does, as if he were praying to his goddess for a blessing of a lifetime. it should be unsettling, he chose this position for a reason; he wants to be right here, close enough to see every reaction you try to hide. his hands rest lightly against your legs at first, thumbs caressing the flesh as you tense, but don’t pull away.
“do you know…” fingers sliding slightly higher, tracing and craving, then there’s a pause. “how hard it was not to think about you?” not crossing any line too fast, he continued, eyes fixed on your face, “to see you every week, and pretend we are just strangers?”
his razor sharp gaze softens for what you can barely count a millisecond, before it shifts back to its sinister depths, something that looks a little too close to obsession.
“should i? or are you going to pretend you don’t want this?”
beneath the dress, fingers slipping under the fabric as he hooks into your waistband and starts to pull it down. you are leaning in just slightly, giving him the access he’s already taken. that’s all the permission he needs. the delicate lace follows, sliding down until it pools at your feet, as you gently kick them fully aside with the help of your heels.
"last chance to leave, angel... say or do something if you want me to stop.”
holding himself back, and it’s taking more effort than he wants to admit. his gaze drags over you, taking in every detail like he’s been starved of it.
you look the same. no, you like you never left him at all.
his jaw tightens faintly because god, he missed you. no matter how much time passed or how many distractions he surrounded himself with, nothing and no one helped. they didn’t look right or feel right, they simply weren’t you.
you changed, of course you did. your hair, your style, the perfume, even the way you carry yourself now, like you’ve grown into something that bites back.
but he sees through it: you are just a little sheep wearing the wolf’s head.
and he is the wolf wearing a sheep’s clothing.
something restless stirring beneath his skin, the way it creeps in, settles deep, refuses to leave. he’s been stuck on a feeling, just can't stop, once ain't enough.
his thumb presses just a little firmer, grounding himself, because he might actually lose that thin thread of control he’s still pretending to have.
“i hate you.” you say but your legs part for him. his head tilts at that, tongue pressing into his cheek, amused, your defiance only entertains him more. don’t mind him then, as he eases you back, gaze heavy on you, his hands slide firmly to your thighs, guiding you then lifting your legs to settle over his shoulders.
he looks at you like he’s about to show you what heaven feels like when its most precious and divine being finally falls from grace.
yunho loves teasing you with his words almost as much as he loves tasting you. his tongue dives in, relentless at first, exploring every twitching nerve that seems to remember him all to well, then deeper, faster and harder. he pushes in and out like he’s trying to swallow you whole, sliding in and out with perfect rhythm.
“babydoll, you’re so sweet,” he groans, licking and sucking, eyes rolling back when he finally tastes you. you're addicting. he laps up your juices, swirling his tongue on your clit. “did you save all this for me?”
his hands grip your thighs, holding you open, pressing you closer as he devours you like a meal he can’t get enough of. every moan, quiet or loud, drives him further to the sinful gates of temptation. he buries his face in you, lips and tongue hungry, mouth wet, making sure every inch of you is tasted.
“look at you, trembling for me…” he whispers, nibbling at your inner thigh between laps of your cunt. he’s relentless with the words, praising every tiny quiver, “that’s it, you’re such a good girl, letting me do this.”
god, your pussy’s perfect. can’t believe this is all his to play with after a whole year of craving you. the way he grins while teasing you, making you feel like you’re both the most desirable and most obedient thing in the world.
“you like it when i talk to you like this, hm? gonna make you scream my name before i even touch you properly,” he teases, tongue pushing deeper, fingers brushing where you couldn't even reach. every compliment and filthy line makes your body shake more, your pussy grip tighter around nothing, dripping just from his mouth and words.
he mixes praise and filth, so you’re caught between feeling worshiped and utterly used. the combination makes you desperate and completely under his control. by the time he lifts his head, cheeks wet, lips shiny with your slick, because he knows exactly what he’s done to you — and he isn’t done yet.
“mmh… yunho–” your back arches, hips rising to meet him despite yourself. you’re dripping, trembling, completely lost to the sloppy sounds of his tongue. he groans, deep in his throat, enjoying the taste of you. he doesn’t rush when he devours and dominates your senses. “fuck, you are so… hahh–”
your legs are clamping around his head as your hands tug his hair, gosh it’s still so soft to the touch. your chest heaving, voice hoarse from moaning, and yunho finally lifts his head, grinning at the mess he made glistening on his lips. wiping his mouth slowly, chuckling, because he’s left you begging without even doing too much.
“mmhm,” diving back in as his fingers brushing against your clit while his tongue plunges deeper. he just keeps going — tongue flicking, fingers circling, whispering filthy praises with every movement. “that’s it, that’s my good girl… come on, let it all out for me.”
your walls clench and your pussy gushes over his tongue, spurting uncontrollably as your legs tremble and your back arches off the surface. yunho groans, licking up every drop, smiling like the maniac he is, “god, you’re insane… look at you squirting for me.”
he doesn’t stop, still moving, coaxing out every last drop, praising you with every breath he takes. his thoughts are full of you, and soon enough, you will be full of him. “mine, you are only mine… keep coming for me, angel.”
you’ve never felt so ruined and so completely at his mercy.
“i should leave you like this,” he adds, quieter, more to himself than to you. the idea actually tempts him, letting you feel exactly how easy it is for him to get you like this. “send you back downstairs all pretty, like nothing happened…” a soft exhale followed, “...but you wouldn’t make it far.”
pulling back, but his fingers keep toying with your clit, and you’re already so sensitive from that alone. he talks dirty in that manic and possessive way of his, murmuring about how he’ll keep you in the dress and the heels, since you can’t spend the night with him… no matter how much he wants you to.
he eases your legs off his shoulders, standing up with a slow stretch, but before he can even undress, he steps back in between your shaky legs, looking down at you with that same secretive, almost warm smile. maybe it’s love, maybe it’s lust, if not both. his index finger and thumb catch your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him, especially when you were trying so hard not to. how cute.
“drop the act, dollface,” he growled, his fingers slide down, big palm spreading around your throat, squeezing to cut off that long-awaited breath you wanted to take, watching you closely, eyes fixed on your lips as they start to quiver with every subtle tightening of his grip. “or do i need to remind you who you belong to?”
one moment he’s choking you, the next, he’s already stripped from the waist down, preparing you to take him.
lying on your back on the bed, with him hovering above you, one long finger slides inside you, immediately feeling how tight and slick you are as he starts to move. he watches closely, eyes fixed on the way your face twists with undeniable pleasure, all while his own cock pulses hot against your leg. a second finger slips in beside the first, and you feel the stretch right away. your walls clenching around him, creaming over his knuckles as small, broken sounds leave your throat, half cough, half whine, still trying to catch the breath he stole from you.
“there it is… i was waiting for that.” and by that, he means you being ready to take him. his thumb drags over the tip of his throbbing cock, stroking himself a few slow times, and your gaze drops — was he always this big? you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to take it… how you managed before. he’s thick, lining up at your soaked entrance, pushing your walls to their limit before he’s even halfway in, your cunt already molding around his size.
missionary is always a gamble with him, because you never know which version you’re going to get: the gentle one, the mean one, the jealous one… there are options, but you’re never the one choosing. this time, he is a meanie. a creature of extreme sadism.
all you can do beneath him is squirm and cry, clinging helplessly to every inch of him he gives you, heavy as he presses in, hitting places your own fingers could never reach. he grunts softly, hips pulling back again because you’re still not full of him, not yet. he has to carve the shape of himself into your insides, and claim you properly, like he always will.
maybe you’re already close, just from the way he moves. shallow at first, his pelvis dragging sinfully against you, making your writhing body jolt upwards on the bed. he switches between soft and controlled thrusts to slow and grinding circles, anything to ease you and help your body relax, make you greedy enough to take him deeper.
“is that all you do, cry?” yunho hisses under his breath, lips brushing wet against your ear as your nails dig into his shoulders. his cock presses right against your most sensitive spot, pulling a loud moan from you, and you think it’s too deep already, when he is not even that deep. “babydoll, be a good girl for me and take every inch, yeah? no, don’t cry now… you can handle it, because you’re mine… my pretty girl.”
your eyes sting, tears slipping free, smudging your makeup a bit. it’s been so long since you had any sexual intercourse, a whole year. you didn’t even do anything more than a few careless kisses and make out sessions with jaemin, nothing that even comes close to tonight’s carnal ravaging.
you need yunho. not just inside you, you need him under your skin, running through your dna. you hate his guts, you do, but god, he fucks you so well you can feel him in your guts.
the tears fall, catching the light like silver, as if tiny diamonds slip down your cheeks as he stretches you open again.
his fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands against the mattress as he hisses filthy praises into your ear. your sensitive cunt takes every devastating thrust, each one pulling out those wet and sloppy sounds, the kind that make you want to scream again and again until your vocal cords tear apart and you lose your voice for days as a reminder of what yunho is doing to do you. what he will always do to you. the way his cock drives fully into you sends that overwhelming urge through your quivering body, threatening to make you come undone, you’re not even sure if you want to. it’s a sensation so intense, such painfully good pressure building with nowhere to go.
you’re so cockdrunk it’s insane. you always thought you were in control, always told yourself he wasn’t a good person, but the dick was too good to let go. he fits too perfectly, like he was made just for you.
“scream for me, doll,” he groans, that husky tone rolling off his tongue and straight through you, pulling a helpless whimper from your lips. his brown eyes flick over your face, taking in every desperate expression like he’s committing it to memory, because watching you fall apart is his favorite part. his pre-cum leaves a messy ring at the base of his cock, trailing down the inside of your thighs, and maybe if he weren’t so consumed by you, he’d comment on just how desperate you look.
“yu-yunho–!” his name tears from your throat as it echoes through the room. his hips snap into yours without mercy, hard enough to leave bruises. your back lifts off the bed, arching into the overwhelming rush flooding your body. you praise and beg for him, pushing him further into ecstasy as he presses you back down every time you move too much.
“you think anyone else could handle you like this?” yunho coos, his pace picking up, thrusts growing faster and faster, until your thighs start to numb. “think anyone could love you the way i do?”
“yunho, please… ahh–” you hear yourself, like you’re outside your own body and have lost control of even your own voice. all you can feel is your nails digging into his back, your body tightening around him as you suddenly break, soaking him, your release spilling over his cock. and still his eyes stay on you, he adores your face more than anything else. it’s almost as if your reactions to the pleasure only he can give you appeal more to him than the sex itself.
“you say you hate me, but i bet you were just mad at me, yeah?”
but you’re too stubborn to admit that, refusing to give him even that much satisfaction. you close your eyes, trying to reclaim some dominance over him, but he only chuckles, bringing his hips to a stop at the fading edge of his own release.
that’s what makes your eyes snap open, staring up at him. “why’d you–?”
“i asked you a question, angel,” he sneers. one hand drifts down to your clit, rubbing slow, agonizing circles that pull a helpless whine from your throat, your head tosses back.
“p-please, yu– i can’t, i–” but your legs stay wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, your heels pressing cold against the heat of his body.
his other hand moves, this time settling around your throat. at first, it’s loose, enough pressure to make you notice. then it tightens as he watches everything: from the way your lips part, to how your chest struggles to rise. completely focused on how dependent you become on him for air. forcing eye contact, watching you go from stubborn to needy, leaning in close to whisper instead of raising his voice.
“tell me if it’s too much… go on.” with every small twitch or squirm, it only makes his grip tighten more, restricting your breathing while muttering praise after praise. what a fucking sadistic psychopath. “so pretty like this…can barely breathe and still taking me so well.”
pushing your limits on purpose, to remind you exactly who’s in control. he feels the way you start to struggle, your body begins to give, and only then does his grip loosen.
air rushes back into your lungs all at once, burning on the way in. your chest stutters, breaths coming out broken and uneven instead of steady. your vision blurs, tears slipping freely now, and you don’t even realize you’re shaking until he notices it first. his hand doesn’t leave your throat. it stays there, fingers still curved around it, no longer squeezing, just resting.
“there you go, babydoll,” his voice drops, softer now, but no less heavy. “breathe.”
but he’s watching you too closely for it to feel like kindness. his thumb drags slowly over the spot he pressed into, feeling the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath his touch. your lips part, pulling in air that still doesn’t feel like enough, as another broken sound slips out of you.
it does something to him. you like this, glassy-eyed and trembling, wants him to hold onto this exact version of you for as long as he can. then, without warning, he leans in. his lips press against yours. it’s not an apology, far from it. a kiss that lingers just long enough to steal the breath you just fought to get back, a quiet reminder of how easily he can take it and when he pulls away, there’s the faintest hint of a smile, because he’d do it again.
“shh, don’t cry… you know i take care of what’s mine.” still too dizzy to think about anything but breathing and kissing, your legs are thrown over his broad shoulders, his hands pushing them closer to your head to get the angle just right. he watches himself slide between your folds, then looks down at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
you glance down to where your bodies meet, even if every instinct tells you to pull away, but there’s nowhere to go. every movement hits heavier, deeper; your body can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pressure anymore. he drags himself all the way out at a torturously slow pace, only to push back in just as cruelly.
"s-shit… don’t move,” he groans, thrusting into you, when he finally decides to snap his hips, his pelvis pressed against yours. his fingers find your sensitive clit again, rubbing it fast to get you to cum again, throwing his head back as he thrusts one last time, before shooting his load into your aching cunt. spurts of warm cum fill your insides while you wither beneath him, all hot and sweaty, not even processing the mess both of you made under the clean bedsheets.
his cock was pulsing so hard you could feel it bulging through your tummy, filling you to the brim as you milk him dry. his palm presses flat against your lower stomach, and he actually smirks when he feels and sees the faint movement beneath, occasionally shifting his hand lower or higher just to make you lose focus mid-thought.
“you fell that, doll?”
do you feel how deep my love runs for you?
yunho looks at you like he’s completely gone, someone who operates on obsession, trying to imprint himself into every part of you, leave something behind that no one else could ever do. he’s smug about it too, of course he is. he just won in life, like out of everything in the world, he got you. fuck, wishing he had his camera right now, just to capture this exact moment. you look unreal beneath him, divine even dressed in black, an angel dragged down just for him.
his voice softens, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath as he leans in, pressing slow kisses to your cheeks, your temple, the bridge of your nose. gentler now, calming you down after everything he just put you through. a quick peck lands on your lips, lingering just a little longer than it needs to.
finally, yunho pulls out, watching closely as a small trace of him drips from you. his fingers follow immediately, sinking to keep it all in. then he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against his chest, lips pressing into your hair, breathing you in like he doesn’t get enough of you, even now.
the aftercare is minimal, because it has to be. he lets you rest for a few minutes, helps you steady yourself, maybe guides you to the bathroom, helps you fix your clothes and makeup, and put your panties back on, while he dresses himself again as if nothing happened. and only now, that you’re about to leave, does he decide to act sweet.
“you good, need anything else?”
“i’ll manage, thank you very much, asshole.”
you smile through your teeth, already turning, only to wobble slightly in your heels. gee, wonder why, like you just didn't have some mindblowing sex. making your way out, you’re glowing, there’s no other word for it. a little wrecked, sure, a little unsteady, but shining brighter than the stars in the sky.
he doesn’t close the door right away, waits until you step into the elevator, as the doors slide shut and you’re out of sight. only then does he finally close it, the click echoing a little too loud in the empty room. he leans back for a second, alone with himself, because yeah, he’s an asshole, he knows that.
but you’ll always come back to him, and he’ll always come back to you.
having big gaps between classes was something you enjoyed, but sometimes hated. just like you hate everything about him. from the smug smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth to how his fingers are inside your mouth, making you gag and be disgusted by the way he does such things like he owns you — he doesn’t.
he’s your ex, the one you’ve tried so hard to forget: the sound of his voice, the way he felt under your skin. now his lips are back on your neck, sucking, kissing, leaving marks you’ll have to cover the second you walk out of his office once he’s done fucking you on his desk. you feel his thumb press against your throat, taking his time, teasing you in ways you swore you would never let him do that again, claiming you like he never left.
trying to tell him, no but your body keeps telling him yes.
you should be disappointed in yourself, letting him pull you off track like this, letting him take control when you know better. yet, with every touch and mark sends heat racing through you, clouding your mind until you can barely remember why you hate him so much. is it because he wasn’t who you thought he was… or because you still feel something for him? hating him is easier than admitting you never stopped wanting him.
you don’t want to care; you want to despise him for what he did and for who he is. but that’s slipping away when your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, eyes roll back when he slides inside of you, filling you completely, making you forget everything else. you want to resist, hold onto the anger, but you can’t. not when he’s deep inside, hitting all the spots that make you arch and gasp, his name falls from your lips even when you swore you’d never let it happen again.
“y-yunho... faster!” you choke out, hands clawing at his back, desperate and needy, but of course, he doesn’t give in that easily. yunho only slows down, teasing you, lips curling into that infuriating grin against your skin.
“angel, i told you to be quiet, didn’t i?” he murmurs, voice low and slightly mocking, “so impatient, as always. good things come when you obey… and wait.”
you are tired of waiting and being toyed with, and if he’s going to take his sweet time, then you’ll make sure he regrets it. your nails dig into his shoulders, even through his shirt, hard enough to strain the fabric and leave marks far more lasting than the lipstick stain on that secret polaroid sitting on his nightstand.
"stop being such a dick and fuck me already!" you hate him, you repeat it to yourself over and over, until his breath is hot against your neck and his hands are gripping your hips as if he’ll never let go.
and just like that, he snaps, relentless now, giving you exactly what you begged for.
his pace quickens, the plastic creaks underneath, each thrust pushing you closer to that edge, all you can think about is him, all you can feel is him. the hate melts away, replaced by a pleasure so overwhelming it almost hurts. you are so full, burning hot by how he uses your body as a canvas to paint you all white with no drops going to waste. purity and innocence, those words don’t exist for you anymore, as they are replaced with sin and punishment.
“that’s it, pretty. feels good, yeah?” he knows exactly how the two of you collide, like you’re at war with each other. it’s rough, as it drags your pride and self-respect straight through the dirt. the relationship is so damn dysfunctional, but yunho knows you better than anyone else. you don’t even realize how much he thrives on this, how easily you let him take control. he loves you like this: soft and bratty, vulnerable and entirely his.
you hope, no, you pray, that the good thing he promised finally comes, because you can’t take much more of this. when it hits, it crashes through you at the same time as him, your cries muffled against his shoulder, your chest rising and falling as all that tension finally spills out. he will take care of you, he will always look out for you because you are his most adored and precious doll, his favorite thing to hold and ruin.
a few minutes later, after he’s helped clean you up with a towel from one of the cabinets he keeps just for these getaways. you zip your pants back up, still feeling the lingering warmth between your thighs. you just hope your panties are enough to keep things from showing through. shit… you should’ve worn the black jeans.
“i only came here to give you mine and jeongin’s project, not to get creampied.”
“baby, you know you don’t have to do anything,” he says, spinning lazily in his chair. one hand clicks the mouse as he scrolls through whatever just came into his email. “you’re my favorite student, you pass without lifting a finger. your friend, on the other hand… needs to learn how to use photoshop.”
“yeah, but…”
“but what?” he glances up at you from the computer, that same knowing look settling back in. “you missed me?”
ah, your eyes betray you again. you missed him, no matter how much your ego tries to argue otherwise. after what happened at the hotel two months ago… yeah, that was all it took for both of you to realize you can’t stay away from each other. and maybe you’ll regret it one day, but not now. you’ve already decided to keep it hidden from karina and yeji. as for jaemin… yeah, he’s nice. he’s always been, but that’s all he is now, nice. you made sure you stayed friends, nothing more, and nothing less.
so you leave yunho’s office, of course not before kissing him goodbye, not that it matters much when he’ll be at your place later anyway. “don’t forget we’re watching spiderman~” like you could forget, you know the entire plot by heart at this point.
you’re wearing a sweater that’s way too big for you, one you casually told your friends you found at a thrift store. sure, if that store was called yunho’s apartment. thankfully, no one suspects a thing, not even your two best friends, because if they did… it would be over, and you’re not ready to lose them, but the heart wants what it wants.
later, you meet jeongin at the campus café, sitting across from him like you didn’t just leave your professor’s office in a completely different state than you entered it.
“innie, thank you for ordering for me too.” you smile, taking a sip of your drink, looking… brighter than usual, too happy for someone with a four-hour gap between classes.
“yeah, no problem,” he says, watching you for a second longer than usual. “also, are you… okay? i don’t know, you just seem different lately after things ended with jaemin.”
you blink, caught off guard. “huh, am i?” a small shrug follows. “i don’t know… i guess i just decided to focus on myself for a while, not on men.”
“well… whatever it is, it suits you,” he mutters, still a little unsure. “oh– by the way, what did professor jeong say about the project?”
“he said we’ve got max points secured,” you shrug lightly. “and that you’ve improved your photoshop skills.”
“really?” jeongin perks up, grinning. “well, don’t mind me if i skip next week then.”
the first part is true, the second isn’t. you can lie to everyone else, but not to yunho. it’s harmless. not everyone needs to know everything about you, not even the people closest to you. so here you are back with your toxic ex, because being stuck on a feeling means being stuck on him. if anyone found out, they’d probably kill him first… and then you.
he knows exactly what you risk every time you come back to him. this was never a temporary game, something that could end just because you decided it should. to him, it’s an inevitable cycle. he doesn’t see himself as someone you return to; in his mind, you never truly left in the first place.
he would give you everything without hesitation. tear the world apart for you, piece by piece, if that’s what it takes to keep you where he wants. but he would ruin you just as easily, because to him, being broken by his hands is still better than letting anyone else touch what he was already his.
yunho is a monster creeping in your heart. a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the kind of character no one expects to be the villain. he isn’t some bad habit; he is an addiction with no cure, letting him consume you, until there’s barely a line left between where you end and he begins. you chose to stay, considering no one plays the role better than you do. this version of yourself that looks put together, untouchable, and guarded… while slowly giving everything away to the one person who knows exactly how to take it.
you didn’t fall for a good man — you fell for the one who learned how to look like one. you keep calling it love, even when it’s nowhere close, because you can’t tell the difference anymore. and if this is what love is supposed to feel like… you don’t want to be saved from it.
thank you phoebe ( @tinyfixon ) for doing a beta read and being an amazing editor! i love you so much and i hope mingi is going to propose to you soon <3
— DILF!hongjoong x fem!reader in which you thought you already had the best relationship you could ever have. until one day you found you boyfroend fucking another girl on his bed, and so what could be a better and appropriate revenge than to fuck his very handsome father.
content warnings: this fic includes detailed nsfw scenes that may be too much for some readers. includes penetrative sex, mention of cheating, dilf!hongjoong, 20 years age gap, fingering, oral (f!receiving), multiple orgasm, video taping, and other scenes that might be uncomfortable for some readers. please consume what you can, and separate fiction from reality. MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!
a/n: HI SO YEAH HAPPY 2K FOLLOWERS AND HAPPY BIRTHDAY TO ME. So as a gift to everyone, here's a dilf!joong to all my fellow atiny's in my followers list. I hope you guys enjoy this delicious fic. ACK. I LOVE YOU ALL. <333
word count: 9k words
You were a catch. A fucking catch.
Everyone on campus knew it. Jaehyun, the guy you'd been dating for the past few months, was constantly called the luckiest man alive. You heard the whispers in the hallways, the envious glances in the cafeteria, the not-so-subtle comments from his friends. But you never really paid much attention to it. You already knew your worth.
After all, you were the drum major of the university's marching band—the one who commanded an entire field with nothing but a raised hand and a sharp look. You carried yourself with a natural, domineering aura that turned heads wherever you went. Tall posture, sharp eyes, and an unshakable confidence that made people straighten up when you walked by. Most of your friends secretly envy you for it.
Your relationship with Jaehyun was far from perfect, but it was still one of the healthiest ones you'd ever had. Or at least... that's what you kept telling yourself.
He was caring in his own way. Attentive on most days, always making sure you ate before long band practices and sending you good luck texts before every game. Jaehyun wasn't the most popular guy on campus compared to you, but as a star football jock, he wasn't exactly unknown either. You two shared the same friend group, which made everything feel easy and comfortable.
It wasn't unusual for Jaehyun to go a day or two without texting. You both had busy lives, you with band rehearsals and him with football practice, so you understood. Whenever he had time, he always came back to you. That was how your relationship worked: comfortable, intact, and especially intimate when you finally got to be alone together.
You never doubted him. He always reassured you so well.
Until now.
It had been a full week since the last time you actually spoke to him in person. No late-night visits to your dorm, no sneaking in through your window with that boyish grin. Just short, dry texts. And every time you tried calling him, he would pick up only to say he was "too busy with practice" and hang up after a minute.
Something felt... off.
You tried to shrug it off at first. Jaehyun was probably just exhausted from practice. You told yourself he'd text soon, that he just needed some time to himself. Three days ago, he had sent a short message saying he was going back to his father's house for a while and wouldn't be around campus. You understand.
But that was three days ago.
Now it had been two full weeks since you last saw him in person. Two weeks of dry, replies and calls that ended within a minute. The uneasy feeling in your chest grew heavier, tightening around your throat like a chokehold.
You weren't used to this. You weren't used to doubting him.
Lucky for you, you actually knew his father—Kim Hongjoong.
He was a genuine, warm man. A single father of three who somehow still looked like he belonged on a magazine cover. At 42, Hongjoong could easily pass for someone in his early thirties. Tall, muscular, with sharp, refined features and that same devastating smile Jaehyun inherited. He was kind, attentive, and had a quiet confidence that always made the air feel a little thicker whenever he was around.
If he wasn't your boyfriend's father... well, you wouldn't have let yourself think about it.
But right now, worry was winning over everything else.
You pulled out your phone and quickly typed a message to him.
You: Hi, Mr. Kim. Sorry to bother you. I haven't heard from Jaehyun properly in almost two weeks. He mentioned he was going home a few days ago. Is everything okay? Do you know where he is?
You hit send and stared at the screen, nerves twisting in your stomach. The party noise faded into the background as you waited.
Not even a minute later, your phone vibrated.
Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. Jaehyun isn't home right now. He said he'll be coming next week. I'm not sure why he told you he was already here...
Your stomach dropped.
He lied.
Jaehyun lied to you.
He never lied to you. Does he?
But now the doubt was creeping in, loud and ugly. Jaehyun had lied. He told you he was going home when he clearly wasn't. Why? The question twisted uncomfortably in your chest, and the fact that you couldn't even confront him made it worse. He was completely missing in action. You typed back with slightly shaky fingers.
You: Oh. I see. Thank you, Mr. Kim. If he comes home, please tell him to message me. Thank you.
Hongjoong: Of course, darling. Take care of yourself, yeah? And visit here sometimes, whenever you can.
You couldn't help but smile softly at his reply. Even through text, Hongjoong's warmth came through so easily. He really was such a sweet man, a genuinely good father. The kind of man who made you feel cared for with just a few words. For a moment, the heavy weight in your chest felt a little lighter.
You slipped your phone back into your pocket and let out a long breath, trying to push the uncomfortable thoughts about Jaehyun to the back of your mind.
You took a deep breath, trying to steady the uneasy feeling twisting in your chest.
If Jaehyun wasn't at his father's house like he claimed, then he was probably just hiding in his dorm. That had to be it. Tomorrow, you decided, you would go see him. You'd look him in the eyes and ask what the fuck was actually going on.
The next day came by so quickly.
You baked his favorite cake. Chocolate with extra frosting, hoping it would soften whatever conversation was about to happen. With the cake box in one hand and your spare key in the other, you stood in front of Jaehyun's dorm door, heart beating heavily.
You took a deep breath and unlocked the door quietly.
The moment you stepped inside, your stomach dropped. Loud, breathy female moans filled the entire dorm. The sound was unmistakable. High-pitched, needy, and very real.
He's probably just watching porn, you told yourself, trying to stay calm. He does that sometimes when he's stressed...
But something felt wrong. You walked down the short hallway, cake still in your hands, and slowly pushed open the door to his bedroom.
The sight hit you like a truck.
Jaehyun was lying on his back in the middle of the bed, completely naked. A girl you didn't recognize was on top of him, riding him hard, her head thrown back in pleasure as she moaned loudly. His hands were gripping her ass, guiding her movements while he groaned beneath her.
For a few painful seconds, you just stood there frozen, cake box trembling slightly in your hands.
Jaehyun's eyes suddenly snapped open and locked onto yours. His face went pale.
"Baby—?!" he choked out, voice hoarse. The girl on top of him let out a startled yelp and quickly tried to cover herself, but it was too late. You had already seen everything.
The cake suddenly felt heavy in your arms. The sweet smell that used to comfort you now turned your stomach. All the late replies. All the sudden "practices." All the lies about going home.
This is why.
"Kim Jaehyun! What the fuck!?"
The cake box slipped from your fingers and hit the floor with a dull thud. For a split second, everything was silent except for the girl's heavy breathing. Then your blood boils.
You didn't scream. You didn't cry. Instead, you strode forward with long, confident steps, that signature domineering aura radiating off you like ice.
The girl barely had time to react before your hand shot out. You grabbed a fistful of her hair and yanked her off Jaehyun with one powerful pull. She screamed as she tumbled sideways onto the mattress.
"Get the fuck off him," you said coldly, voice low but sharp enough to cut glass. She scrambled away from you, eyes wide with shock, trying to cover her naked body with her hands. Jaehyun sat up quickly, face pale and panicked.
"Babe— wait, it's not— I can explain—"
"Explain?" You let out a bitter laugh, still holding the girl's hair tightly in your grip as you glared down at him. "You lied to me for two weeks just so you could fuck someone behind my back?"
The girl whimpered as you finally released her hair with a rough shove. She quickly grabbed her clothes and ran out of the room like her life depended on it, slamming the door behind her.
Now it was just you and Jaehyun. He looked pathetic, naked, flushed, dick still hard and glistening from another girl's pussy. The sight made your stomach turn.
You stood tall at the foot of the bed, arms crossed, looking down at him like he was nothing more than a disappointing subordinate who just ruined the entire performance.
"Two weeks, Jaehyun," you said, voice dangerously calm. "Two fucking weeks of 'I'm busy' and 'I'm at my dad's'. And this is what you were doing?"
Jaehyun's eyes widened in panic. He scrambled off the bed, still naked, and lunged forward, grabbing your wrist tightly.
"Babe, wait— please, just listen to me! It's not what it looks like, I swear! She doesn't mean anything, it was just— fuck, it was a mistake—"
You felt his grip on your wrist like fire.
With a sharp, powerful yank, you shoved him off you. Jaehyun stumbled back, nearly losing his balance.
"Don't you fucking lay your filthy hands on me!" you hissed, voice dripping with venom. "A mistake? You lied to me for two whole weeks so you could fuck some random bitch behind my back and you call that a mistake?!"
Your chest heaved with rage. Your eyes blurred as tears pooled on your eyelids, making Jaehyun shrink under your glare.
"We're done," you said coldly, staring straight into his eyes. "Don't ever call me. Don't text me. Don't even look at me. Fuck off, Jaehyun."
You turned on your heels, not even sparing the fallen chocolate cake on the floor a second glance, and walked out of his room. The sound of your footsteps echoed down the hallway as you slammed the dorm door behind you with a loud bang.
Tears burned in your eyes the moment you stepped outside, but you refused to let them fall. Not here. Not for him. You were done.
For the next week, Jaehyun wouldn't leave you alone.
He texted and called nonstop, even after you blocked him on everything. He showed up outside your classes, your band practice, and your dorm. Every time he tried to approach you, your friends were right there, ready to throw punches and shield you like bodyguards. They cursed him out and dragged you away before he could get close.
You stayed strong on the outside, but the betrayal still stung.
By the start of the second week, you thought it was finally dying down. Until one afternoon.
You had just finished band practice and were walking out of the campus gate when a girl stepped in front of you. It was her. The girl you had pulled off Jaehyun that day. She looked nervous, eyes red like she'd been crying.
"Can we talk?" she asked quietly. "Please... just for a minute."
You almost walked past her, but something in her expression made you stop. You crossed your arms, staring her down.
"Fine. Talk."
She took a shaky breath.
"I'm so sorry... I had no idea you existed. Jaehyun told me he was single the entire time. We'd been seeing each other for almost a month. He said he didn't have a girlfriend, that he was too focused on football to date anyone seriously." Her voice cracked. "If I had known about you... I would never have touched him. I swear."
She looked genuinely devastated.
"I feel sick knowing I was the other woman. I'm really, really sorry. You didn't deserve any of this."
For a moment, you didn't know what to say. The anger you'd been carrying suddenly felt heavier. Jaehyun didn't just cheat on you. He had played both of you.
You let out a bitter laugh and ran a hand through your hair.
"...Thanks for telling me," you said coldly. "At least now I know how much of a lying piece of shit he really is."
The girl nodded, looking ashamed, before quietly walking away. You stood there at the gate for a long time, the evening sun casting long shadows on the pavement. The betrayal felt even deeper now.
For the next month, you drowned yourself in studies and band practice.
You threw everything you had into rehearsals, perfecting every count, every movement, every command on the field. At night, you buried yourself in books and assignments until your eyes burned. You barely slept, barely ate, and barely gave yourself time to think.
The whole campus knew what happened. The cheating scandal spread like wildfire. People whispered when you walked by, gave you pitiful looks in the hallways, and sent sympathetic messages. But you kept your chin up high, shoulders back, and that signature domineering aura firmly in place. You refuse to let anyone see you break. You were the drum major. You didn't fall apart in public.
Two months had passed since that awful day. You were in your dorm, surrounded by notes and textbooks, when your phone buzzed. You glanced at the screen.
Hongjoong: Hey sweetheart. It's been a while. How have you been? It's already been two months since I last heard from you. I didn't even know you and Jaehyun broke up until recently... Are you okay?
Your chest tightened. You stared at the message for a long time before replying.
You: Oh. Hello, Mr. Kim. Yeah, we broke up. I'm fine though, thank you for checking me up.
Hongjoong: I'm really sorry to hear that. If you're free this weekend, why don't you come over for dinner? I'll cook. You can talk about what happened if you want to... or we can just eat and you can forget everything for a while. No pressure. I just hate the thought of you dealing with this alone, besides I know for sure whatever the reason is, it could have been my stupid son's fault.
You bit your lip, fingers hovering over the screen. Part of you wanted to say no and keep burying yourself in work. But another part, the tired, angry, emotionally drained part, desperately needed to let it all out.
You: Okay. I'll come. Thank you, Mr. Kim.
Hongjoong: Great. Come by Saturday at 6? Can't wait to see you, sweetheart.
Saturday came faster than you expected. By 6:30 PM, you were standing in front of Hongjoong's house, heart beating a little faster than usual. You had chosen one of your favorite Sunday dresses. A soft, off-shoulder cream-colored dress that hugged your figure nicely but still looked modest enough. You tugged at the hem nervously, suddenly wondering if it was too much. Too pretty. Too revealing for a dinner with your ex-boyfriend's father.
You took a deep breath and rang the doorbell.
A few seconds later, the door opened. Kim Hongjoong stood there, looking unfairly good in a simple black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to his forearms, revealing toned muscles. His dark hair was slightly tousled, and when he saw you, his face lit up with a warm, genuine smile.
"You're here," he said softly, voice rich and comforting. His eyes quickly scanned you from head to toe before he caught himself and looked back at your face.
"You look great. Come in, sweetheart."
He stepped aside, letting you enter. The house smelled amazing, Garlic, herbs, and something savory that made your stomach rumble.
"I'm sorry I'm a little late," you murmured.
"Don't apologize. I'm just glad you came." He closed the door behind you, then gently placed a hand on your lower back to guide you towards the dining area. The light touch sent a small, unexpected shiver up your spine. "I made carbonara and grilled steak. Hope you're hungry."
As you followed him, the reality of the situation settled in. This was the first time you'd been here since the breakup. No Jaehyun. Just you and Hongjoong.
He pulled out a chair for you like a gentleman, then disappeared into the kitchen for a moment before returning with two glasses of wine. Hongjoong sat across from you, his warm gaze never leaving your face.
"So..." he started gently, voice low and careful. "Do you want to eat first and relax... or do you want to tell me what really happened between you and my son?"
He leaned forward slightly, eyes full of quiet concern and something deeper you couldn't quite name.
"I'm here to listen to everything. No judgment."
You sat quietly for a moment, staring at the glass of wine in your hands. The warmth of Hongjoong's home and his gentle presence made the walls you'd built over the past two months feel dangerously thin.
"I... I'll tell you," you whispered. Hongjoong nodded, giving you his full attention. He stayed silent, patient, as you started talking.
You told him everything.
How Jaehyun had been distant for weeks. The constant excuses. The lies about being at his house. How you baked his favorite cake and went to his dorm with a spare key, hoping to fix things. How you walked in on him fucking another girl. How he had the audacity to lie and say it was a mistake.
The more you spoke, the more your voice shook.
"I kept myself busy for two months straight," you continued, tears already blurring your vision. "Studies, practice, rehearsals... anything just to stop thinking about it. The whole campus knew. Everyone was looking at me with pity and I hated it. I'm supposed to be strong, supposed to be in control... but he made me feel so stupid."
Your throat tightened painfully.
"I trusted him. I never doubted him even once. And he played me like I was nothing. He told that girl he was single the whole time. He lied to both of us."
The dam finally broke. A sob ripped from your chest. Tears streamed down your face as all the anger, humiliation, and pain you'd been holding in came rushing out at once.
"I feel so pathetic..." you cried, covering your face with both hands. "I'm supposed to be better than this. I hate that he still has this much power over me."
You couldn't stop sobbing.
Suddenly, you felt strong, warm arms wrapped around you. Hongjoong had moved from his seat and pulled you into a tight, comforting hug. One hand gently rubbed your back while the other cradled the back of your head.
"Shhh... it's okay," he whispered softly against your hair, voice deep and soothing. "Let it all out, sweetheart. You don't have to be strong right now. Not here."
He held you closer, letting you cry into his chest as your body shook with heavy sobs.
"You're not pathetic," he murmured firmly. "You're incredible. My son is the idiot who couldn't see what he had."
Hongjoong didn't let go. He kept holding you, rocking you gently, his warmth and steady heartbeat slowly calming you down as you cried out months of pent-up pain.
"Just so you know," Hongjoong said softly, still holding you close, "I didn't raise my son to be like that. I thought I taught him well."
His voice was low and heavy with disappointment. One of his hands kept rubbing slow, soothing circles on your back while the other gently cradled the back of your head.
"I don't know where he got the idea that cheating is okay," he continued, almost to himself. "I'm really sorry, sweetheart. You didn't deserve any of this. Not a single second."
You stayed buried against his chest, your sobs slowly quieting into shaky breaths. His shirt was damp with your tears, but he didn't seem to mind. He smelled comforting, like warm cologne, fresh laundry, and something distinctly him.
Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look at your tear-streaked face. His thumb gently wiped away the tears still clinging to your cheeks, his touch incredibly tender.
"Well..." you whispered shakily against his chest, voice still thick with tears, "just by how you're treating me right now... maybe it's only the looks that Jaehyun inherited from you."
Hongjoong let out a soft, surprised chuckle, the sound vibrating warmly through his chest. He pulled back slightly so he could look at you properly, his hand still gently cupping your cheek.
"Is that so?" he murmured, a small, handsome smile tugging at his lips. His thumb brushed another stray tear from your skin. "I'll take that as a compliment then."
Hongjoong watched you with quiet intensity, his dark eyes never leaving your face as you pushed the pasta around your plate. The warm lighting in the dining room cast soft shadows across his sharp jawline and the open collar of his black shirt.
He set his wine glass down slowly, the quiet clink breaking the silence.
"What do you want to do with Jaehyun now?" he asked, voice low and velvety.You stared at your plate for a long moment, the hurt and rage you'd buried for two months rising back to the surface like poison.
"I want him to learn his lesson," you said bitterly, your voice cracking. "I want it to hurt. I want him to feel even a fraction of the humiliation and betrayal he made me feel."A heavy silence filled the room.
Hongjoong leaned back in his chair, studying you carefully. Then the corner of his mouth slowly lifted into a dark, dangerous smile. He stood up and walked around the table until he was standing right beside you. His tall frame towered over you as he gently tilted your chin up with two fingers, forcing you to meet his gaze.
"Then let me help you teach him," he murmured, his thumb brushing slowly across your bottom lip. "We can film ourselves in bed. You and me. I'll fuck you the way you deserved. I'll make you moan my name so loudly the camera catches every desperate sound."
Your breath hitched.
Hongjoong leaned down closer, his lips hovering near your ear as his voice dropped into a husky whisper.
"Imagine it, sweetheart... My hands all over this beautiful body. My cock buried deep inside you while you're falling apart. And then we send that video straight to Jaehyun. Let him watch his own father ruining the girl he was stupid enough to cheat on." He pulled back just enough to look into your eyes, his own burning with lust and something dangerously possessive.
"You'll be screaming for me... and he'll be forced to watch every second of it."
His fingers slid from your chin down the side of your neck, leaving a trail of heat on your skin."It's your decision," he said softly, but his eyes were anything but soft. "If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you tonight. I'll make sure my son never forgets what he lost."
You stared at Hongjoong, heart hammering wildly in your chest.
He was undeniably attractive. The way his black shirt stretched across his broad chest and muscular arms, the sharp line of his jaw, and those intense eyes that seemed to see right through you. At 42, he looked better than most men half his age. But this... this was crossing a dangerous line.
"I... I don't know," you whispered, voice shaky. You looked down at your hands, fingers twisting together nervously. "Mr. Kim, he's still your son. This feels... wrong."
Hongjoong gave you a warm, understanding smile, the kind that made the corners of his eyes crinkle gently. His hand slid from your thigh to your back, giving you a soft, comforting pat as if he could sense the storm of emotions inside you.
"It's okay," he said softly, voice gentle and reassuring. "I don't like pushing things on people, sweetheart. Especially not you."
He straightened up and moved back to his seat across from you, though his eyes never really left your face. The tension in the air slowly eased, but the heat of his earlier words still lingered.
"Go ahead and eat," he added with a small nod toward your plate. "Then you can rest if you want. No pressure at all. I'm just happy you're here."
You nodded quietly and picked up your fork again, though your appetite had mostly vanished. The carbonara tasted amazing, but your mind kept replaying his proposal, the image of you and Hongjoong in bed, filming everything, sending it to Jaehyun.
For the next few weeks, Hongjoong's offer refused to leave your mind.
It lingered like a parasite burrowing deeper every quiet moment. Late at night while you tried to study. During band practice when your mind should've been focused on counts and formations. Even in your dreams, his low voice would whisper the filthy promise again and again.
You told yourself it was wrong. Disgusting, even. He was your ex-boyfriend's father for heaven's sake. But no matter how hard you tried to push the thought away, it always crawled back, hotter and more tempting each time.You decided to ignore it. Bury it. Move on.
Until one sunny afternoon.
You were walking past the football field when you saw them.
Jaehyun was sitting on the bleachers with the same girl, the one you had dragged off his cock that day. She was laughing at something he said, leaning into his side while his arm was casually draped around her shoulders. He looked... completely unbothered. Like he hadn't shattered your trust and humiliated you in front of the entire campus.
Something ugly and sharp twisted violently in your chest.Your feet stopped moving. Your fists clenched tightly at your sides.All the pain, the anger, and the humiliation came rushing back in full force. And right behind it, Hongjoong's voice echoed clearly in your head.
"If you want real revenge... I'll give it to you."
That's when you stopped hesitating.
The sight of Jaehyun laughing with that girl on the bleachers had ignited something feral inside you. No more crying. No more burying the pain. Tonight, you were going to make him regret ever laying eyes on anyone else.
Later that evening, you stood in front of the his father's house with fire in your eyes and steel in your spine. Your fist knocked firmly on the wooden door.
The door opened, and there was Hongjoong.
He looked devastatingly attractive in a simple black button-up with the top few buttons undone, revealing a hint of his toned chest. His dark hair was slightly messy, and the moment his eyes landed on you. Standing there with flushed cheeks, furrowed brows, and clenched fists.
Before he could even speak, you looked him dead in the eyes and said with absolute conviction. "Let's do it."
The air between you instantly thickened. Hongjoong's gaze darkened with raw hunger as he stepped aside, silently inviting you in. The moment the door closed behind you with a soft click, it felt like the outside world had been shut out completely.
Your head started to spin.You didn't know if it was because of Hongjoong's strong, woody perfume, deep, masculine, and intoxicating, that kept flooding your senses with every breath, or if it was the sudden wave of nervousness crashing over you all at once.Your heart hammered violently in your chest. Your palms felt clammy. The reality of what you just agreed to hit you like a freight train.
"Come with me," he said softly.
His hand slid down to yours, at the flat as he guided you upstairs. The house was quiet except for the sound of your own heartbeat echoing in your ears. Every step up the stairs made your stomach flutter harder.He led you down the hallway and pushed open the door to the master bedroom. The room was spacious and masculine, dark wood furniture, a large king-sized bed with crisp black sheets, and soft ambient lighting from the bedside lamps. The air smelled faintly of his cologne, the same intoxicating scent that had made your head spin earlier.
Hongjoong gently pulled you inside and closed the door behind you with a soft click. Without saying a word, he guided you toward the bed, his hand resting lightly on your lower back.
"Sit down, sweetheart," he murmured.You obeyed, lowering yourself to sit at the edge of the large bed. The mattress dipped slightly under your weight. Hongjoong stood in front of you, tall and commanding, looking down at you with dark, hungry eyes.He reached out and brushed a strand of hair behind your ear, his touch surprisingly tender.
"Nervous?" Hongjoong asked softly, his voice low and gentle as he stayed crouched between your parted thighs.You could only nod, not trusting your voice. Your cheeks burned with embarrassment, but you couldn't deny it. Your heart was racing so fast you felt lightheaded, and the way he was looking at you, so intense, so patient, yet so hungry, made everything feel overwhelming.
Hongjoong gave you a small, understanding smile. He rose slowly from his crouch and sat beside you on the edge of the bed, his thigh pressing warmly against yours. One arm wrapped around your waist, pulling you closer to his side while his other hand came up to gently cup your face.
"It's okay to be nervous, sweetheart," he murmured, thumb stroking your cheek. "This is a big step. But I promise... I'll take care of you."
He leaned in and pressed a slow, tender kiss to your forehead, then another on your temple, letting his lips linger there. The scent of his cologne wrapped around you again, making your head spin in the best way.
"I'm not going to rush you," he whispered against your skin. "We can go slow."
His hand slid down from your face to your neck, then lower, tracing the line of your collarbone with feather-light fingers. He tilted your chin up so your eyes met his again.
"Tell me what you want," he said softly, eyes dark but patient. "Do you want me to kiss you? Touch you? Or do you just want me to hold you until the nerves settle down?" His thumb brushed slowly over your bottom lip as he waited, giving you full control even while his body radiated heat and barely contained desire.
The sigh that left your lips was soft and shaky the moment Hongjoong's lips met yours.It wasn't rushed or demanding. It was slow, warm, and devastatingly gentle, like he was savoring the first taste of something he had wanted for a long time. Your head instinctively leaned into him, eyes fluttering shut as a rush of heat spread through your body.
Hongjoong hummed approvingly against your mouth, one hand cupping the back of your neck while the other stayed firmly on your waist, pulling you closer. His lips moved against yours with experience, deepening the kiss gradually until you parted your lips for him. When his tongue slipped inside, tasting you, a quiet whimper escaped your throat.He kissed you like he had all the time in the world, deep, sensual, and thorough. The kind of kiss that made your toes curl and your thighs press together instinctively.
When he finally pulled back, just enough to let you breathe, his forehead rested against yours. His breathing was slightly heavier, eyes half-lidded and dark with desire as he looked at you.
"Still nervous?" he whispered, voice husky. His thumb brushed tenderly over your now slightly swollen bottom lip.You barely managed a small shake of your head.
"There we go." Hongjoong smiled, slow and predatory, before capturing your lips again, this time with more hunger. His hand slid down your side, gripping your hip as he guided you further onto the bed until your back gently met the soft mattress.
He hovered over you for a moment, drinking in the sight of you lying in his bed, flushed cheeks, parted lips, and eyes hazy with nerves and arousal. Then, without breaking eye contact, he sat back on his knees and reached for the buttons of his black shirt.
One by one, he undid them slowly, deliberately, revealing his toned chest and defined abs inch by inch. The shirt slid off his broad shoulders and strong arms, exposing his muscular upper body. He was even more impressive than you had imagined, years of quiet discipline showing in every line of his torso. He tossed the shirt aside without care.
Your breath caught.
Hongjoong leaned down again, capturing your lips in another slow, heated kiss. His bare skin radiated warmth as he pressed closer, one hand sliding up your side.
His fingers found the hem of your sundress. He sat up slightly and gently tugged the fabric upward, eyes locked on yours the entire time, giving you every chance to stop him. You lifted your hips instinctively, and he pulled the dress up and over your head in one smooth motion, leaving you in just your bra and panties.
Hongjoong let out a low, appreciative groan as his gaze roamed over your body.
"Fuck... look at you," he murmured, voice rough with desire. His hands traced your waist, then moved up to cup your breasts through your bra, thumbs brushing over the fabric. He leaned down and pressed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your collarbone, then lower, between the valley of your breasts. His fingers skillfully unclasped your bra and slid the straps down your shoulders, freeing your breasts.
"Perfect," he breathed, eyes dark.He tossed your bra aside and returned to kissing you — deeper this time, while his hands explored your now mostly bare body with slow, reverent touches.
Hongjoong kissed you like he was starving for you, his mouth claiming yours in deep, slow strokes while his hands explored your body with growing hunger. He trailed kisses down your neck, across your collarbone, and lower, until his lips wrapped around one of your nipples, sucking gently.
A soft moan slipped from your lips.
He continued downward, pressing wet kisses along your stomach until he reached the waistband of your panties. Without hesitation, he hooked his fingers into the thin fabric and started slowly pulling them down your thighs, exposing you completely to his hungry gaze.
As the lace slid down your legs, Hongjoong looked up at you, eyes dark with lust. His voice came out low and rough, slightly breathless.
"Where's your phone, sweetheart?" His hands never stopped moving. He finished pulling your panties off and tossed them aside, then ran his palms up your bare thighs, gently spreading them wider so he could settle between them.You could barely think straight, head spinning from the sensation of being completely naked under him.
"In... in my bag," you managed to whisper, voice shaky. "By the door..."
Hongjoong hummed in acknowledgment. He leaned down and pressed a slow, open-mouthed kiss right above your mound, dangerously close to where you were already aching for him.
"Stay right here," he murmured against your skin, his breath hot. "Don't move."
He stood up for a moment, giving you a full view of his sculpted torso and the obvious bulge straining against his pants. He walked over to your bag, retrieved your phone, and returned to the bed.
Hongjoong gave you one last deep kiss before pulling back, then handed you your phone with a dark, heated look in his eyes.
"Here, sweetheart," he said, voice low and commanding. "You're going to record this."
He helped you sit up and lean back against the plush headboard, propping pillows behind you so you were comfortable. Then he moved down the bed, settling his broad shoulders between your spread thighs. His large hands gripped the back of your knees and pushed your legs wider apart, fully exposing your glistening pussy to him.
Your hands trembled slightly as you opened the camera app on of your phone and switched it to video mode. You hit record.
Hongjoong looked straight into the lens for a moment, a wicked smirk on his lips, before his gaze dropped back to your dripping core. Without another word, he leaned in and dragged his tongue slowly up your slit in one long, filthy stroke. A broken moan immediately spilled from your lips.
"Oh my god..." you whimpered, hips twitching.
Hongjoong groaned at your taste, the vibration sending sparks through your body. He licked you again, slower this time, savoring every drop before wrapping his lips around your swollen clit and sucking gently.
"Fuck—!" you cried out, your free hand flying down to grip his hair.
He ate you out like a man possessed, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, more hungry. His tongue circled your clit, flicked it, then dipped down to push inside you. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth on your pussy filled the room, clearly captured by the camera.
You struggled to keep the phone steady, your hand shaking as pleasure coursed through you. "Joong— ahh!" you moaned loudly, eyes rolling back. "It feels so good..."
He looked up at the camera again, eyes almost rolling at the back of his head, while you watched his face contort through the screen of your phone. He then slid two thick fingers deep inside you, curling them perfectly against that sensitive spot. Your moans grew louder, more desperate, as you tried your best to keep recording, legs trembling around his head, hips grinding against his talented tongue.
His tongue worked your swollen clit with expert precision, licking, sucking, and flicking in perfect rhythm while two thick fingers pumped deep inside your soaked pussy. The wet, filthy sounds of his mouth and fingers filled the room, all of it being captured clearly on the phone you were desperately trying to hold steady.
"Ahh—! Hongjoong... fuck!" you moaned loudly, your voice cracking.
Your head fell back against the headboard, but you forced your eyes to stay on the camera. Your thighs trembled violently around his shoulders. The pleasure was building fast, coiling tight and hot in your lower belly.
Hongjoong groaned against your pussy, the vibration making your back arch sharply.
"You taste so fucking good, baby," he growled, lips shiny with your juices. He curled his fingers harder, stroking that perfect spot inside you with every thrust. "So wet for me already."
"I— I can't—" you whimpered, hips grinding desperately against his face. "It's too good... I'm— I'm so close!"
He sucked harder on your clit, flicking his tongue rapidly while his fingers fucked you faster, deeper. Your whole body started shaking uncontrollably. Hongjoong pulled back just enough to look up at you, eyes dark and commanding.
"Cum for me, sweetheart. Cum on my tongue." He dove back in, sucking your clit into his mouth with intense pressure while his fingers curled relentlessly against your g-spot. The coil inside you snapped.
"Oh my god— Hongjoong!" you screamed, your back arching violently off the bed. Your orgasm crashed over you like a tidal wave. Your thighs clamped around his head as you came hard, pussy pulsing and gushing around his fingers. Wave after wave of intense pleasure ripped through your body, making your vision blur and your legs shake uncontrollably. You kept moaning his name brokenly, loud and shameless, as the orgasm went on and on. You didn't even know if you properly recorded the way he made you cum. It was too much for you to think about it.
Hongjoong didn't stop. He kept licking and fingering you through every pulse, milking every last drop of pleasure until you were a trembling, whimpering mess against the headboard. Only when your moans turned into weak, oversensitive whimpers did he finally slow down. He pressed one last gentle kiss to your throbbing clit before pulling his fingers out and looking up at you with a satisfied, predatory smirk.
Hongjoong huffed a heavy, shaky breath against your soaked pussy, his chest rising and falling as he tried to steady himself. Your orgasm had clearly affected him just as much. His eyes were dark, pupils blown wide with lust, and his lips glistened with your release.
He slowly crawled up your body like a predator, hovering over you on his forearms. His muscular frame caged you in completely, his hard cock pressing hot and heavy against your inner thigh through his pants.
Without a word, he snatched the phone from your trembling hands. He quickly tapped the screen a few times, saving the video with a satisfied hum, then tossed the phone onto the far side of the bed where it landed safely on the pillows.
Now there was nothing between you two. Hongjoong looked down at you with pure hunger, his dark hair falling slightly over his eyes. His bare chest brushed against your breasts with every breath he took.
"Enough recording for now," he rasped, voice thick and rough. "I want to feel you properly."
He leaned down and captured your lips in a deep, messy kiss, letting you taste yourself on his tongue. One of his hands gripped your thigh, pulling it up around his waist as he ground his clothed erection against your bare, sensitive pussy. You moaned into his mouth, still twitching from your orgasm. Hongjoong broke the kiss just enough to rest his forehead against yours, breathing heavily.
"Are you ready for me, sweetheart?" he asked, voice low and husky, barely holding back his hunger. You didn't answer with words. Instead, you looked straight up into his eyes, fiery, determined, and needy all at once, and slowly wrapped your arms around his neck, pulling him closer. Your fingers threaded through the hair at the nape of his neck as you gave him the clearest answer you could.
Hongjoong's eyes darkened even more. A low, pleased groan rumbled from deep in his chest.
"That's my good girl." He reached down between your bodies and quickly freed himself from his pants. His hard cock sprang out, thick, heavy, and flushed. He wrapped a hand around the base and rubbed the swollen head up and down your soaked slit, coating himself in your wetness.
You gasped softly at the feeling, your arms tightening around his neck.
Hongjoong pressed his forehead against yours, breathing heavily as he lined himself up with your entrance.
"Eyes on me, baby," he whispered roughly. Then, with one slow but firm thrust, he pushed the thick head of his cock inside you.
A broken moan escaped your lips as he stretched you open. Inch by inch, he sank deeper, groaning at how tightly your walls gripped him.
"Fuck... so tight," he hissed through gritted teeth, fighting the urge to slam all the way in. "You feel even better than I imagined." He buried his face in the crook of your neck, kissing and sucking on your skin as he gave you time to adjust to his size, his hips twitching with the effort of holding back.
The moment you wrapped your arms around his neck and looked him in the eyes, something in Hongjoong snapped.
He didn't hold back anymore.
With a deep, guttural groan, he thrust forward hard, burying his thick cock deep inside you in one powerful stroke. A loud, broken cry tore from your throat as he stretched you wide open, filling you completely.
"Fuck—!" Hongjoong growled, voice raw with years of pent-up desire. "Finally..."
He didn't give you time to adjust. He pulled back almost all the way and slammed back in, setting a brutal, desperate pace right away. The bed creaked loudly beneath you as he fucked you like a man who had been starving for this moment for years.
"Been waiting so fucking long for this," he rasped against your neck, teeth grazing your skin as he pounded into you. "You have no idea how many nights I imagined fucking you raw in my bed."
Every thrust was deep and punishing, his hips snapping against yours with raw power. The sound of skin slapping skin mixed with your loud moans and his heavy grunts filled the room.
Hongjoong grabbed one of your legs and hooked it over his waist, driving even deeper. His rhythm was relentless, almost animalistic, like he was claiming you completely.
"Mine now," he groaned, one hand gripping your hip hard enough to leave marks while the other braced beside your head. "This pussy is mine."
He kissed you messily, all tongue and teeth, swallowing your moans as he fucked you harder. His hips rolled with every thrust, making sure you felt every inch of him dragging against your walls.You could barely think, only feel the way he was ruining you so perfectly. Hongjoong buried his face in your neck again, sucking hard on your skin as he growled.
He fucked you like a man possessed, hips slamming against yours with raw, years-long hunger.
He suddenly shifted his angle, hooking your leg higher around his waist and driving deeper. He thrust hard a few times, searching, adjusting, until he found it. Your whole body jerked violently.
"Ahh—! There—!" you screamed, nails digging into his shoulders.
Hongjoong's lips curled into a feral smirk against your neck.
"Right here?" he growled, voice dark and satisfied. He immediately started targeting that sweet spot mercilessly. Every thrust was precise, deep, and devastatingly fast, slamming directly into the spot that made stars explode behind your eyes. The wet, filthy sound of his cock pounding into your soaked pussy echoed loudly in the room.
"Fuck yes— take it, baby," he groaned, eyes half-lidded with pleasure as he railed you without mercy. "This is what you needed, isn't it? A real man who knows how to fuck you properly."
His pace was brutal now, deep, fast, and relentless. The headboard banged loudly against the wall with every powerful thrust. Your breasts bounced wildly between your bodies as he drove into you again and again, hitting that perfect spot over and over.
You were moaning shamelessly, almost sobbing with pleasure, your arms locked tight around his neck.
Hongjoong buried his face in your neck, biting and sucking on your skin while he fucked you even harder, hips snapping with pure desperation.
"That's it," he panted, voice rough. He angled his hips again, making sure every thrust dragged perfectly against your g-spot, pushing you closer and closer to the edge at an overwhelming speed.
"You're getting so fucking tight again," he groaned, almost snarling. "Gonna cum for me already, sweetheart? Cum all over my cock like the good girl you are."
Hongjoong kept slamming into that perfect spot with ruthless precision, his hips moving in a fast, deep rhythm that left you completely undone. Your eyes suddenly rolled to the back of your head, mouth hanging open in a silent cry as the overwhelming pleasure reached its peak. Your entire body tensed violently beneath him.
"I'm— I'm cumming—!" you sobbed brokenly, voice cracking.
Your walls clamped down around his thick cock like a vice, pulsing and fluttering wildly as your second orgasm crashed through you even harder than the first. A loud, shameless moan tore from your throat, your back arching sharply off the bed while your legs shook uncontrollably around his waist.
The way your pussy squeezed him so tightly, almost begging him to cum with you, finally pushed Hongjoong over the edge.
"Fuck— baby!" he growled loudly, his thrusts turning erratic and desperate. With a deep, guttural moan, he buried himself as deep as possible inside you and came hard. Thick, hot spurts of cum flooded your spasming pussy, filling you up completely as he kept grinding into you, riding out both of your orgasms.
His body trembled above yours, hips twitching with every pulse as he emptied himself inside you, groaning your name against your neck like a prayer. For a long moment, the only sounds in the room were your heavy breathing and the faint creak of the bed. Hongjoong stayed buried deep inside you, his forehead pressed against yours, both of you panting and covered in sweat.
"Shit..." he whispered hoarsely, pressing a lazy kiss to your lips. "You feel so fucking good milking my cock like that." He gave one last slow thrust, pushing his cum deeper into you, then stayed there, savoring the warmth of your body wrapped around him.
Both of you stayed locked together, breathing heavily in the quiet aftermath.
He let out a long, satisfied sigh and gently collapsed on top of you, careful not to crush you with his weight. His face nestled into the crook of your neck, lips brushing softly against your damp skin as he tried to catch his breath.
For a long moment, neither of you spoke. The only sounds were your mingled breathing and the faint beating of his heart against your chest.
Hongjoong was the first to move. He pressed slow, lazy kisses along your neck and jawline, then finally lifted his head to look at you. His hair was messy, cheeks flushed, and his eyes were softer now, warm, almost tender.
"You okay, sweetheart?" he whispered, voice hoarse from exertion. One of his hands came up to gently brush strands of hair away from your sweaty forehead.
You could only nod weakly, still dazed and trembling from the intensity of your orgasms. Your arms remained loosely wrapped around his neck, fingers playing with the hair at his nape.
Hongjoong smiled softly, a small, genuine smile that made the corners of his eyes crinkle. He leaned down and kissed you, slow, deep, and full of affection this time, completely different from the raw hunger earlier.
Hongjoong stayed buried inside you for a few more moments, savoring the warmth and the way your walls still fluttered around him. He pressed one last lingering kiss to your lips before slowly pulling out with a low groan.
A thick trickle of his cum immediately leaked from your swollen pussy onto the sheets. He watched it for a second with dark satisfaction before looking back at your face.
"Stay still, sweetheart," he murmured softly, brushing a kiss on your forehead. "Don't move. I'll get you a glass of water."
You nodded hazily, still floating in a blissful, post-orgasm daze. Your body felt heavy and boneless against the mattress.
As Hongjoong got up and walked out of the room, completely naked, you reached over to the other side of the bed where he had thrown your phone. Your fingers trembled slightly as you picked it up.
The video was still there.
Without giving yourself time to overthink, you opened your messaging app, found Jaehyun's contact, and attached the video. Your thumb hovered for only a second before you hit send.The message delivered.
You stared at the screen, heart pounding. A few seconds later, the typing bubble appeared... then stopped. Then appeared again.
Finally, a message came through.
Jaehyun: What the fuck is this?
Another message followed almost immediately, his panic clear even through text.
Jaehyun: Is that... my fucking dad?!
Jaehyun: Are you seriously fucking my DAD?!
You didn't reply. You smiled .A slow, satisfied, almost wicked smile spread across your lips as you scrolled through the flood of texts Jaehyun had sent in the last few minutes.
Jaehyun: What the actual fuck is wrong with you?!
Jaehyun: You're seriously fucking my DAD just because I made one mistake?!
Jaehyun: This is so fucked up. You're disgusting.
Jaehyun: Delete that shit right now. I can't believe you'd stoop this low.
Jaehyun: Answer me you fucking bitch.
Every angry, desperate message made the smile on your face grow wider. You could practically hear him shouting through the screen, the panic, the rage, the disbelief.
You were still smiling when Hongjoong returned with a glass of cold water in his hand. He paused at the doorway for a second, taking in the sight of you, naked, flushed, and glowing, sitting up in his bed while scrolling through your phone with a satisfied little smirk on your face.
Hongjoong raised an eyebrow, amused.
"Did you already send it?" he asked, walking over to the bed. You looked up at him and nodded slowly, biting your lip to suppress the grin threatening to spread across your face.
Hongjoong let out a low, rich chuckle, clearly pleased. He sat on the edge of the bed beside you and handed you the glass.
"Here, drink up," he said softly.
You took the glass and drank the rest of the water slowly while he watched you with dark, affectionate eyes. When you finished, he took the empty glass from your hand and set it on the nightstand.
He leaned in, cupping your jaw gently as he pressed a slow kiss to your lips.
"Good girl," he whispered against your mouth, voice laced with satisfaction. "Now come here."
Hongjoong pulled you back down onto the bed, wrapping his strong arms around your body and tucking you against his chest. He kissed the top of your head, one hand lazily stroking your back.
"Rest now, sweetheart," he murmured, holding you close. As you drifted off in his warm embrace, your phone buzzed one last time on the nightstand. You smiled against Hongjoong's chest and closed your eyes. Revenge had never felt so good.
okie so this is actually going to be two chapters, because damn I wrote a lot more than I thought I would and am actually liking the chapter as it stands, so here's a semi-long chapter that is mostly fluff and filler with a bit of a lead into our next chapter.
Pairing: Ateez x 9th member!reader
Summary: y/n gets to have a bit of fun with the boys at dinner and then some sweet times to end the night, before waking up early the next morning for her very first schedule as a member of Ateez!
wc: 3.1k
AU: a/b/o
Genre: Fluff/Angst
warnings: alcohol, people being tipsy, food mentions, anxiety, pet names, I think that's it
masterlist
“How are you so cute?” San kept asking her, leaning heavily on her shoulder, his face flushed red as Wooyoung had kept plying him with alcohol, before Yunho cut both of them off. The muscular man kept cycling between leaning on her and telling her how cute she was, how proud of her he was, before being pulled back by one of the others and leaning on Yunho’s shoulder, becoming quiet and just observing everyone.
It seemed, based on Wooyoung’s glee over San’s current behavior, that the older omega wanted this to happen. Something that would surely get him scolded later, though y/n doubted that the longer-haired omega would truly be remorseful over his actions. Because she had such a busy schedule tomorrow, the others had a daily easy day, mostly just dance practice/prep for the quickly approaching comeback.
“I don’t know?” y/n replied to him, shrugging her shoulders and accidentally pushing San off at the same time, causing the tipsy beta to whine. “I’m sorry, San-oppa,” the omega said, turning to look at the red-faced man.
“It’s okay, just don’t do it again,” he whined in reply, moving to lean his head back on her shoulder once more.
“Okay, I think it might be time for us to go home,” Hongjoong announced, watching the two of them, but keeping a closer eye on San, while Seonghwa leaves his seat and moves over to the beta-omega duo, pulling the tipsy beta off of y/n and motioning for her to go take his seat so he can keep an eye on San. Y/n nods and does as he directs her, sitting in between Hongjoong and Jongho. Hongjoong was busy with paying for the meal and talking with the staff, so the omega started talking with Jongho.
The two got so engrossed in their conversation that they both spooked, though to varying degrees, when hands came down on their shoulders.
“Maknaes, we’re leaving,” Yeosang’s voice came from above, making y/n look up at the fairy-like man. He was smiling down at them, endeared by how precious they were, so focused they were on each other and ignoring the world around them.
They both ducked their heads a bit, before Jongho motioned for y/n to get up first, before following behind her. The nine idols left the restaurant, donning masks before they left the building, and slipped into two separate vans. Normally they’d split up between hyung and maknae lines, but with San tipsy, San went in the hyung line van while Yeosang came to join the four in the second van.
“Awww, we don’t get Sannie?” Wooyoung pouted, having hopped in the van first without looking back.
“Hwa-hyung says you’ve lost your Sannie privileges.” Yeosang said, making the omega pout.
“That’s not fair,” Wooyoung said back, pouting even more if that was possible.
“You got him tipsy, which had him leaning all over y/nnie here,” Jongho interjected.
“Don’t try and make sense!” Wooyoung yelled at the younger male sitting in front of him, strangely saying it in English. Maybe that was him being a bit tipsy too.
“And now he’s speaking English, it’s definitely time to go home.” Jongho said, making Mingi and y/n giggle at his words.
Wooyoung sat in the last row of seats, with Yeosang next to him to keep him in line. Though to be fair, that didn’t seem to be working too well, as Yeosang was getting manhandled by the omega. The next row had Mingi sitting by himself, and Jongho and y/n were in the front row of seats, having climbed in last. After Yeosang was finally buckled in, the van took off, heading towards the dorm.
Arriving at the dorm, they find the other four got there first, and when the five pile into the entryway of their dorm, they find the others sitting at the table waiting for them. After everyone took off their shoes and headed towards the table, San escaped Seonghwa’s hold and walked over, stumbling slightly as he headed straight to y/n, wrapping his arms around her and swaying them back and forth.
“Our cute baby omegaaaa,” he said, rubbing his head on the top of hers. “So cute and adorable and I’m going to keep you safe.” The beta was rambling now, just saying anything and everything that came to mind. Suddenly the buff beta started pulling her towards the living room, eventually making it to the couch as the others watched this all go on. Once the two were settled on the couch, San looked over at the table, specifically the two omegas.
“Wooo, Hwa-hyung, build a nest, please?” The dancer pleaded, deploying his puppy eyes to use on the two. “Wanna cuddle our baby omega in it, and we can all cuddle too.”
“Sannie, I don’t know.” Hwa started to say.
“YES!” Wooyoung said, interrupting the older idol.
“Wooyoung,” Seonghwa immediately turned to him, “We’re not going to, unless y/n says yes. We’re not pressuring her to join our nest or anything like that. She has the last say here, not you or I. Or San.” He said, looking at said beta as he spoke his name. “Her comfort is the priority.”
“But,” Wooyoung said.
“No buts,” Seonghwa said to him, before looking at y/n, “Y/n, would you be comfortable with us building a nest in the living room? And would you want to join us in said nest?” He asked, looking for any sign that the female omega would be uncomfortable with what he was asking.
Meanwhile, both San and Wooyoung are pleading with y/n, putting their puppy eyes to full use. Wooyoung was doing so from behind Seonghwa, not wanting the elder omega to catch him. His omega wanted to be close with both of his omegas, already considering the younger omega as his, it had since he had met y/n.
Y/n looked between the three of them, and the others as well, making sure no one was uncomfortable with the idea. Their omega was preening at the thought of getting to nest with all eight men, of getting to be close, and so was y/n, because it was still feeling like a bit of a dream to get to do something as intimate as nesting with the group. Biting her lip, she nodded at Seonghwa, signaling that she was okay with it.
“I need to hear you say it, darling.” Seonghwa said after she nodded, needing verbal confirmation.
The pet name sent shivers down y/n’s spine, but she replied to the eldest member. “I’m okay with you both building a nest, and being in it.” She said, her voice soft.
After her agreement, things happened pretty quickly. Wooyoung practically sprinted to grab nesting materials, while Seonghwa left the main room at a much more sedate pace. Yeosang followed behind the two omegas to help them bring the materials back, while the others remained sitting down, figuring they’d only get in the way, if or until they were needed by Seonghwa and Wooyoung.
y/n watched this from the couch as San kept her close, not wanting to let her go. At some point however, Yunho came to pull San away, since he was starting to get a bit too intimate with y/n, and so Yunho pulled the clingy beta into his lap, letting the youngest member of their group have some space to breathe. Of course, San started to whine about it, and the taller man simply directed the black-haired man’s head into his neck, letting him bite and lick at his scent gland instead.
While the alpha-beta duo were preoccupied, y/n watched as her fellow omegas set up the nest, directing the others to help as needed. She had offered to help, but was denied, being told that she should relax for now. Her omega was sad at being denied, as was y/n, however pleased at the show of the pack wanting to take care of her. y/n tried to tamp down on that feeling, because they were probably just being nice after a bit of a hard day. Completely ignoring the fact that they had explicitly told her that they think of her like pack and that they want her to be one of them. Y/n was struggling with how protective they were over her, because she felt like she could handle it by herself, even if she didn’t have to. And maybe she was overthinking a bit too, which because she was so focused on watching the others, she didn’t realize someone was picking up on it.
Mingi practically dragged y/n into the nest after Seonghwa and Wooyoung declared it complete. The large alpha pulled her into his lap, ignoring Hongjoong and Seonghwa’s scoldings about his actions. His deep voice whispered into her ear as his scent surrounded them, “Let’s cuddle the worries and anxieties away.”
The rapper didn’t say anything more than that, instead opting to stay silent and keep her close, letting her think about his words, before getting distracted by the others roughhousing in front of her, while arguing over what movies to watch. They eventually decided on a Korean movie series you hadn’t seen before, but thankfully there were English subtitles. This was how y/n spent her night with the boys, falling asleep somewhere in between the second and third movies, still in Mingi’s lap. After the others noticed her sleeping, they turned down the volume on the tv and cooed at how cute she looked, and how small she looked in Mingi’s arms, before settling down around the duo.
Y/n felt someone softly shaking her shoulder and saying her name. Groaning and slowly blinking her eyes open, she saw a blurry figure above her. As the figure came into focus, she realized it was Seonghwa.
“Good morning y/n-ah. You have to get up, you have to leave for your shoot in about 45 minutes.” He said, keeping his voice low so as to not wake any of the others.
She groaned once more and nodded. “What time is it?” She asked the eldest member.
“It’s just after 6:15 am. I woke you last, I know you’d probably want a bit more sleep before the long day ahead of you.” He replied, before reaching a hand down to pull her out of the nest. She took his hand, grateful for the help. Once she was out, she found that she had ended up sleeping in between Mingi and Yunho, and now that she was gone, Mingi reached out for Yunho instead, the twin towers curling up with each other.
At the reminder about the long day ahead of her, of her first schedule as part of Ateez, of the filming she was doing today, her stomach started to roll, the nerves and anxiety filling her chest and making her a bit nauseous. Her scent must have reflected it, the sweet strawberry scent souring, as Seonghwa pulled her farther away from the nest before pulling her into his arms.
“Hey, it’ll be okay, Hongjoong will be with you, and the staff we work with are all so nice, and you’ll have new stylists too. It will all work out okay. Plus, we’re all only a text or call away, yeah?” He said, leaning down to kiss the top of the younger omega’s head. “You will have fun today, I know it.”
Y/n nodded, a bit convinced and reassured, but it was still a bit of an unknown experience for her, so she couldn’t help but worry. She was just anxious by nature, and big things like this always had her worrying. “Okay, Seonghwa-oppa.” She said, to which he nodded and turned her in the direction of her room.
“Go on now, go get dressed,” he said, smiling down at her and she smiled back and went on her way, the anxiety in her stomach still there, but less than what it was a few moments ago.
Opening the door into her room, she found the room as she had left it, but with a hoodie laying on her bed, and she found herself curious as to who had left it there. She figured maybe it had been Wooyoung, but she wasn’t sure when the other omega would have found the time to do that. It was too small to be Mingi’s, so the tall alpha was out of the question too. She really wasn’t sure who else it could have been, and as she got closer, the scent was too faint right now for her to make out whose it was.
She would have pondered more on it, but she did need to get ready and packed for the day ahead of her, so she laid the hoodie back on her bed and headed to her closet. Quickly picking out a pair of worn jeans, and a one of her favorite T-shirts, because it had a tiny watermelon embroidered on it, she dressed in that and moved out of her room to the bathroom to brush her teeth and put on moisturizer, before moving back to her room to finish packing her bag for the day.
Deciding not to take too much, since she’d likely be busy, she only took her tablet and a book or two. Alongside essentials like chargers and such, because she had no idea how long this day was going to be. She also planned to sneak a few snacks in the bag too, once she was out in the kitchen again. As she was tying the hoodie on her bed around her hips, her door opened, revealing Hongjoong who peeked his head in.
“Hey, are you ready-” he started to ask, before stopping as he stared at the hoodie wrapped around her hips. It took him a minute to start speaking again, his gaze focused on the piece of clothing, and while y/n couldn’t see it, his ears were very red. “Where’d you get that?”
“The hoodie?” She asked, to which he nodded, “Oh, well it was on my bed when I came in this morning. Why?
“Oh, uhm, no reason, I was just wondering.” He said, trying and failing to look suspicious. While Hongjoong had practically blue-screened at the sight, his alpha was very happy at the sight of y/n wearing his clothing, it was purring very contentedly. To which the captain pushed his alpha away, saying it was not the time for this. He didn’t have nearly enough coffee in him for this right now.
Before either of them could say anything else, the door was pushed further open and once more revealed another of the boys, this time it was Seonghwa.
“Oh? What’s going on here?” He said, looking at Hongjoong and almost smirking at his pack alpha, who glared back, instantly knowing who was behind leaving his hoodie in y/n’s room.
“Hongjoong-oppa and I were talking about this hoodie because it just appeared in my room. You wouldn’t happen to know whose it is?” She asked, looking at the older man and hoping he’d know the answer.
“It might belong to one of the younger members? I’m not sure. Hoodies tend to get shared around a lot. Maybe it might even be our captain’s here.” He said, glancing over at said captain to see his ears burning and very red still. “Though I came to tell you both that our managers are on their way here. I think your new manager is coming too, y/n. So that you can meet them before you’re announced publicly.” He told them, before quickly leaving and giggling to himself as he walked back to the kitchen. His plan to get y/n to wear something of the pack alpha’s had worked. And even better, y/n hadn’t realized who was behind it or whose hoodie she was wearing.
Back in y/n’s room, the two left both decide to get finished preparing to leave, and Hongjoong returns to his room, while y/n finishes putting the last of her things inside her tote bag. Heading out of her room, she met up with Hongjoong in the hallway, both of them heading towards the living room, where they found the remaining six members still asleep in the nest. Seonghwa beckoned them into the kitchen, the pack omega handing them both packed containers of food, since they likely wouldn’t have enough time to eat before the van came to pick them up.
“I know you’ll have a longer trip today to where they’re filming today, so I packed you food you can eat on the way there. Or now, if you wanted.” He said, a hand coming up to scratch the back of his neck, to which Hongjoong reached over to pull his hand away from doing that.
“Don’t do that, you’re gonna hurt yourself,” the alpha said, moving closer and setting down the containers in his hands on the countertop. He moved Seonghwa’s hair to look at where he was scratching, a frown appearing on his face as he saw the scratch marks on his omega’s skin.
Y/n watched as Hongjoong put down his things, instructing Seonghwa to stay there while he went to get cream to put over the scratches to try and soothe his skin. When he came back, she watched as he was so gentle with the other man, touching him lightly and making sure he didn’t cause further hurt. It wasn’t surprising to see, as an Atiny y/n had seen scenes like this many times over the years, but the fact that it was happening in front of her, as the two were in their own little world made this feel much more intimate than any other moment she had watched Hongjoong be gentle with his members.
By the time she came back to reality, she realized both members were looking at her, their gazes fond.
“Were you zoning out, or are we so pretty you can’t help staring?” Hongjoong said, smirking cheekily at her.
Y/n immediately blushed and looked away, a bit embarrassed at getting caught staring at the two men.
“So, which one is it, little one?” Seonghwa asked, moving closer and Hongjoong followed right behind his omega.
“I think you were,” Seonghwa said, “and it’s okay if you were. Joongie and I don’t mind a pretty omega watching us.”
But before y/n or the two eldest could say anything more, there was a knock on the door, signaling to them that their managers had arrived to pick Hongjoong and y/n up.
- seonghwa and mingi truly are the real bl fanatics of ateez
- hongjoong should really just learn to fujo out with yeosang. or to make a shelf like a proper lesbian. or carry more fish around in his pockets
- san is waaaay too gay to be learning how to flirt from shows like single's inferno but idk why i expected more from a man who fell for his chatgpt...
- jongho watches too many straight kdramas and needs to spend more time with his self-described "favourite hyung" to fix this IMMEDIATELY
- yunho can ask his boys to have sex with him very blatantly on camera, hwa can show off how well he can deepthroat and wooyoung can be immediately googly eyed over the fact, and yeosang can sneak off because the prospect of missing two of his members kissing without him there to watch was just too unthinkable to him and some people will still claim you're the weird one if you think of them as just a lil fruity rip
Anya is live and ready to show you everything. Watch her strip, dance, and perform exclusive shows just for you. Interact in real-time and make your fantasies come true.
✓ Live Streaming✓ Interactive Chat✓ Private Shows✓ HD Quality✓ Free Actions
Free to watch • No registration required • HD streaming
♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Former porn star Dilf Seonghwa х reader
♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: We've all had a crush on our best friend's father, and you were no exception. It was pretty innocent at first, but your feelings for Mr. Park became sharper and way more dirtier. You tried to fight them and act like a good girl. but to your shame, you did a terrible job. It could go on like this for a long time if, one desperate night, you hadn't accidentally discovered that so sweet and perfect Mr. Park used to be a premium porn star.
♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: Smut, Pornstar!AU, University!AU, Reader x Best friend's dad, Forbidden Romance
♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI
♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 17.4k
♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: dom!Dilf Seonghwa, sub!reader, age difference, rapturous consent, sex work, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of sperm, fingering, degrading, pet names, face fucking, spit kink, lots of sperm/saliva, dirty talk, oral, praise kink, squirt, pussy slapping, oral fixation, cock worship, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hand job, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, anal play, masturbation, wet and dirty, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more.
♡ net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity
♡ 𝔄|𝔑: That feeling when Pink Star Presents and Million Dollar Man meet in the same story. God, I fucking love it. I wrote the draft in one night, which is extremely unusual for me, but I'm completely satisfied with the result. Who would have guessed that a small, unholy idea would grow into a full-length? But here I am. So stock up on fresh fresh and your sex toys, bunnies, because Mr. Park is here to destroy you, after all, Daddy Knows Best.
♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post.
♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more
♡ 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - Seonghwa’s personal temple
𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉 - Your love makes all this possible
Everyone loved Mr. Park, and of course, you were no exception.
Seonghwa was incredibly caring, attentive and the most tender father you’ve ever seen - still too early and far too dangerously hot to be called that, really, but life is full of surprises. As Mr. Park always said, he felt completely at peace with what he had now; Misol was his precious little princess, and he wouldn’t want to change a single thing.
He was the kind of man who remembered exactly how you took your coffee and the fact that you hated shrimp, who genuinely asked about your day with that gentle, slightly shy smile that made your stomach flutter, and who always found just the right words to offer support.
He always wore something so soft and cosy that, somehow, made him even more inviting, the kind of comforting warmth that left you daydreaming about crawling into his lap, pressing your face into his chest, and staying there for hours while his long fingers stroked your hair. Sweet, kind, endlessly patient… and a real walking wet dream.
Because beneath all that gentle charm and pastel shades was pure sin wrapped in golden skin. It was subtle — just a dark flash in the depths of his large, sparkling eyes — hinting that there was something far more dirty and lewd hidden beneath the surface, that made your pussy throb with shameful need.
Mr. Park… Seonghwa, as he always asked you to call him, was a hot, tall blonde with deep, seductive eyes and full lips that looked far too sensual and soft for a man of his age, and that kind of effortless elegance that turned heads without him even trying.
You couldn’t help staring — at first quite innocently, struck by his captivating masculine charm — but then your gaze grew longer, more obvious, far beyond the bounds of propriety.
Your gaze lingered too long on the sharp line of his collarbones teasingly peeking out from under the open collar of his shirt; on that thin, almost slutty waist when he allowed himself to wear something that clung too deliciously to his body; on the way the soft fabric of his cardigan hugged his shoulders so perfectly; on his long, graceful fingers wrapped around the thin stem of a wine glass during dinner, and especially on the sharp tip of his tongue as it slid slowly along the wet plumpness of his lower lip, looking almost indecent.
Sometimes Seonghwa caught you doing it — his dark gaze flicking up to meet yours for a heartbeat too long — but he never called you out. He was used to the attention from his daughter’s friends and would only chuckle sweetly, joking that he wasn’t that handsome or young anymore to be drawing the eyes of beautiful girls and guys.
Fucking lie.
Every time he flashed that sweet, disarming smile, your mind betrayed you all over again. The innocent way he brushed off the attention only made the ache between your thighs worse, because deep down you knew the truth — he was far more dangerous than he pretended to be.
Lately you couldn’t stop thinking about him. To be honest, you thought about him far too often, and always in the filthiest ways. Six months of brutal sexual drought had left you aching, restless and in desperately longing for touch.
Day by day, your fantasies about Mr. Park grew dirtier: those elegant fingers leisurely stroking the sensitive skin of your inner thighs, that low, velvety voice whispering “my good girl” against your ear while he took his sweet time with you. You pictured his handsome face buried between your legs, those hypnotic dark eyes locked on yours as he licked your pussy slowly and deep dragging out the pleasure for hours on end, until you were shaking and begging him for more.
You couldn’t escape him, even in your dreams. On particularly hot nights, you would wake up drenched in sweat and completely dishevelled, with your heart racing wildly. Your silk panties would be soaked and clinging obscenely to your swollen labia from the shameful flood of wetness that had poured out of your needy cunt.
You felt ashamed sometimes — he was your best friend's father, after all — but the shame never lasted long. Why should it, though? It felt so fucking stupid.
You were both grown-ups with your own wants and needs. From the little things that Misol had casually said, you knew Mr. Park hadn't brought anyone home to spend the night with for a long time either. That thought sent a dangerous spark straight through you, the idea that he was just as untouched, just as hungry as you were, making the ache between your thighs even more intense, stoking your desire to feel him deep inside you.
The only thing that had ever really connected you was a long-standing friendship with his daughter… but could that truly be reason enough to deny yourself the chance to fuck such an incredibly gorgeous and hot man as Seonghwa?
Yes. No. Probably.
The constant back-and-forth was so frustrating that it felt like you were slowly losing your mind.
Lately, it has become almost unbearable for you.
Your pretty lace panties were constantly sticky and damp, your clit faintly throbbing with arousal even from the most innocent things — the way he leaned over the kitchen island; the low timbre of his laugh; the delicate scent of his perfume that carried a powdery, smoky warmth with a hint of sensual sweetness whenever he got too close.
It was so pathetic. Around him, you always felt like that awkward, barely-grown girl again — the one who had just discovered the pleasures of sex and couldn’t keep her hands to herself for even five fucking minutes.
And tonight was no exception.
Dinner at their house had been pure torture. All evening long, you tried your hardest to be a good girl and behave properly, fighting the desperate urge to rub your aching pussy against the soft velour seat of the chair like a cat in heat. Seonghwa sat right in front of you, lazily sipping his wine while he questioned you about your final-year project. His gentle smile was a little languid tonight, slightly more sensual than usual from the alcohol, and genuine interest sparkled in his big, dark eyes.
“You’ve been working so hard lately.” Mr. Park said softly, his thumb absently tracing the rim of his wine glass. “You should treat yourself more often, darling… let yourself relax a little.” His hypnotic, feline eyes lingered on you just a second longer than necessary.
Misol, however, remained completely oblivious to your suffering, she cheerfully chatted away without pause, suggesting it wouldn’t be a bad idea to celebrate your graduation on some tropical resort. Seonghwa immediately picked up on the idea, turning his attention to his daughter and finally giving you a moment to catch your breath.
The mere thought of seeing this magnificent man in tiny beach shorts and a light, sheer shirt sent you into overdrive. You pressed your thighs together so tightly it was almost painful, your pulse quickening, your breathing turning shallow and uneven. With every fucking minute your panties grew uncomfortable and wetter, the slick heat of your arousal soaking through the delicate lace and making the fabric cling to your swollen, dripping folds.
The tension had finally reached its breaking point. You needed to let off some steam. Urgently.
You’d barely crossed the threshold of your own home before the full weight of this night hit you with full force. Mr. Park’s sultry voice still lingered on your skin like warm melted honey: “You should treat yourself more often… Relax a little…” Those innocent-seeming words took on a far more lewd meaning now that you were finally alone.
You were so desperate and overcome with that forbidden, humiliating urge that you didn't even think to turn on the light before crawling onto the bed. With a loud, exhausted moan, you collapsed onto the soft cushions and widening your legs and immediately thrust your hand into your undies. That delicate fabric was already ruined – completely soaked through with the warm, sticky flood of your goo.
‘Oh my…’ The slick heat of your arousal clung obscenely to your fingers the moment they brushed against your swollen, throbbing folds. Lord, you were already so shamefully wet, and all that man ever did was sweetly smile and say a few kind words to you.
Your open laptop lies carelessly beside you hip, its soft blue glow barely cutting through the thick, vanilla-scented darkness of the bedroom. Your favourite vibrator is already in your hands, well-lubricated and fully charged. And that’s all you need. Just the low, teasing buzz of your vibrator gliding through your folds and the filthy, repulsive wet, squelching sounds pouring from your headphones.
Right now, you want nothing more than to lose yourself in lustful pleasure and finally find some desired relief.
Those wicked thoughts about Mr. Park had been tormenting you for far too long—twisting through your mind like snakes and making your greedy little cunt throb and leak nonstop, no matter how hard you tried to be a good girl.
You needed to fuck them out of your head with something rough and mindless. Just a nice, thick cock, a long skilled tongue, and a beautiful girl falling apart as she got relentlessly fucked in every single hole. That’s all.
The first video you found wasn’t bad, but it wasn’t quite what you were looking for, so you kept scrolling until one finally caught your eye. It looked quite promising: ultra-high quality, no awkward editing cuts — the sort that usually rushed things to a quick climax. Exactly what you wanted.
You clicked play on the video, licking your lips in anticipation, starting gently rubbing the vibrator over your swollen little clit.
The scene opened from behind on a man on his knees, his back already glistening with a thin sheen of sweat; his muscles tensed and rippled beneath the heated skin, shifting and flexing with every rough, deep thrust as he fucked the girl beneath him in perfect doggy style. You couldn’t see his face yet — just the superb line of his shoulders and the smooth honey skin stretching tight over them with every movement.
His long, slender fingers were splayed across her hips, gripping her firmly, but one hand slid slowly upwards between her round buttocks. Two elegant digits circled her tight little asshole teasingly before pressing inside, slow and deliberate, stretching her open while he continued fucking her pussy without mercy.
Your breath catches in your throat. God, the view is absolutely lewd.
His back arches slightly as he pushes all the way in; the luscious curve of his ass tenses — round, firm, impossibly perfect — and you can't tear your eyes away. You imagine running your tongue along that smooth golden skin, tasting the salt of his sweat, squeezing those perky buttocks hard with both hands while he slides even deeper into your pussy.
Every powerful thrust made his heavy balls swing and slap wetly against the girl’s soaked pussy, the lewd sound loud and rhythmic through your headphones, mixing with her broken, desperate moans. His thick cock drove into her so deep, stretching her pussy so thoroughly that you could see the thin, tender edges of her hole cling to him on every pull-out — shiny and stretched tight — before he slammed back in, his long fingers still working her ass in lazy, filthy circles.
Your pussy was gushing uncontrollably, dripping like a waterfall of warm, filthy need. Thick, glossy rivers of your arousal spilled shamelessly from your twitching hole, coating every swollen fold in a slick, sticky glaze that made your soft, peachy labia glisten obscenely. Your pussy felt so hot, so smooth, and deliciously slippery under your touch.
Your fingers moved faster now, rubbing your soaked pussy with rougher, hungrier strokes, perfectly synced to the relentless rhythm of his hips. The vibrator stayed jammed hard against your throbbing clit, forcing even more creamy slick to flood out of you as you stared, mesmerized, at that gorgeous ass flexing and clenching with every deep, hard thrust.
Fuck, you wanted to bite it. Sink your teeth into that smooth golden skin and mark him as yours. You ached to spread those perfect cheeks wide and bury your face between them while he kept fucking her exactly like that—rough, controlled, and utterly merciless.
"So good…” You let out a loud, ragged whimper, the second the vibrator’s soft, buzzing tip kissed that little hypersensitive spot on your clit. Pleasure slammed into you like a tidal wave - hot, blinding, and so intense it was almost unbearable, making your eyes roll back and your toes curl tight. Your thighs shook violently, as you mindlessly swayed them in an attempt to keep up with every pulse of pleasure.
Another broken moan full of raw, lustful desire spilled from your pretty mouth before you could stop it. The tension coiled tighter and tighter in your belly, growing hotter and hotter with every wet slap of skin on skin, every flex of his sweat back, and every teasing pump of his long fingers. Soft, needy whimpers kept spilling from your lips, mixing deliciously with the filthy, obscene sounds pouring through your headphones.
Then he slowed down; his silky, heavy length slipping out of her pussy with a lewd, squelching sound. He grips her waist with those long, elegant hands, and flips her onto her back in one fluid motion. The camera changes angle, finally revealing his face as he settles between her wide-spread thighs and slides back into her ruined, dripping pussy with a low, velvety moan that pierces you to the core.
Your fingers freeze mid-stroke.
No. Fucking. Way.
It was him—Seonghwa. Mr. Park. Your best friend’s dad.
The same gentle man who had sat across from you at dinner just hours ago, wearing that soft, fluffy cardigan, smiling shyly while joking that he wasn’t as handsome as he used to be.
Now those dark siren eyes were half-lidded with lust, and his full, plush lips parted around a filthy moan of praise: “That’s it, baby… take my cock like a good girl.” The same elegant fingers that had politely held a wine glass earlier were now knuckle-deep inside the girl’s tight asshole, stretching her open while his thick cock brutally filled her pussy.
The burning heat of shame flooded your face. The sharp sting of embarrassment hit you first - you’d been touching yourself to thoughts of him for months, and now your filthy little fantasy was playing out in vivid 4K right in front of your eyes. Your best friend’s dad. The man who called you “beautiful” in that soft, warm voice, with no idea you’d imagined his handsome face buried between your legs hundreds of times.
But the shame didn’t last too long.
Without even realizing it, you spread your thighs wider, shameless and desperate now. The vibrator kept buzzing relentlessly against your soaked cunt as you pressed it down harder, grinding the pulsing tip in tight, aggressive circles right over your swollen, reddened clit—eyes glued to Seonghwa like he was the only thing left in the world.
It felt so good…so fucking good, in fact, but you knew it was nothing compared to what Mr. Park's long, skilled tongue or that thick, sinewy cock could do to you.
He's such a dynamic fucker. One second he was fiercely pounding deep into her pussy with that heavy cock, and the next his handsome face was already buried between her spread legs. His tongue slid slowly over her slit, licking up every drop of her sweetness with hungry, obscene strokes, while his dark, siren eyes stared straight into the camera… as if he knew exactly who was watching him.
Your needy little pussy spasmed rhythmically around your fingers as you pushed them deeper inside yourself, forcing even more thick, glossy slick to gush out of you. It ran obscenely down between your plump cheeks and coated your tight asshole. Your thighs visibly tremble as you rocked your hips, chasing the overwhelming pleasure while the video kept playing.
He flipped her onto all fours again, fucking her hard from behind, before suddenly turning her over once more. Now you had the perfect view—every thick inch of his cock sliding in and out of her ruined, creamy pussy, his heavy balls slapping wetly against her with every powerful thrust.
Your orgasm crashed through you without warning. You choked on a moan that sounded dangerously close to his name, as the vibrator kept buzzing mercilessly against your oversensitive clit. A warm, powerful jet of squirt exploded out of you, splashing noisily onto the sheets in a shameless, wet mess. The pleasure was brutal, devastating. Your eyes rolled back, your whole body convulsed in violent electric spasms, and for a dizzying second you thought you might actually pass out. Wave after wave of raw ecstasy tore through you until your cunt felt like it was on fire.
It shattered you so badly that when the peak finally crashed over you, you went completely limp — a trembling, whimpering, ruined mess.
But you didn’t stop the video. You couldn’t.
You watched him pull out and paint her tongue with thick, pearly ropes of cum, stroking himself through every last drop. That same kind, gentle face you knew so well was now twisted in raw, depraved pleasure, the sight made your pussy clench hard again, already begging for round two.
When the clip finally ended, a heavy, charged silence filled the room, broken only by your loud, ragged breathing. The laptop screen glowed brightly in the darkness, the cursor hovering temptingly over the replay button. Your heart hammered wildly, so hard that you could feel it pulsing in your throat. A deep flush of shame burned across your cheeks for a brief moment… before melting away into something far sweeter and much more sinful.
Deep down, knew what you should do: close the laptop, delete your entire search history for good, and pretend this never happened. But instead, like the hopeless little pervert you were, you dragged the video into a folder labeled “research,” as if that made any of this less insane.
Your mind was spinning wildly. How the hell were you supposed to act normally around him now? How were you going to look Mr. Park in the eyes, knowing exactly how his thick cock looked stretching a pussy open? Could you really stay cool-headed, sit across from him at the dinner table and watching him smile that sweet and gentle smile, without imagining him bending you over the kitchen counter and fucking you senseless right next to his famous strawberry pancakes he made every Sunday?
As humiliating as it was to admit… you already knew the answer.
Still trembling from the mind-shattering orgasm, you fidgeted restlessly on the soaked sheets. Your body felt limp and hazy, but a fresh, burning arousal was already pulsing deep inside your core, hotter and more insistent than before. With shaky fingers you reached for the laptop and hit replay, starting the video from the very beginning. One orgasm clearly wasn’t going to be enough — not after seeing exactly how fucking devastating Mr. Park could be.
God, you felt like such a shameless little pervert, but even so, the shame only made your pussy throb harder. The second that rich, velvety voice poured into your headphones, pulling you straight into your forbidden fantasy, your hand slid straight back between your slick thighs like it belonged there.
This time you let it take you completely.
You spread your thighs wider, shoved two fingers deep into your dripping pussy, and fucked yourself in perfect sync with every brutal thrust on the screen. Your hips rolled desperately, the vibrator still buzzing hard against your swollen, oversensitive clit. The fantasy swallowed you completely: it was your tight little hole he was splitting open, your ass taking those long, skilled fingers, your squirt he was licking up like a starving man.
You already knew you were going to come again. Harder. Filthier. Hotter. Envision all the dirty, kinky things you’d like to do with Mr. Park the next time you find yourself alone with him.
The second orgasm slammed into you like a freight train.
Your back arched violently off the bed, a broken cry tearing from your throat as you squirted hard — hot, messy, and uncontrollable. Clear fluid gushed out around your fingers, soaking the sheets and running down your trembling thighs while your walls clenched and pulsed wildly. You kept rubbing through every brutal wave, drawing it out until your vision whited out and your legs shook uncontrollably.
When the peak finally released you, you collapsed back onto the bed, panting hard, chest heaving, completely wrecked. For a few long, blissful seconds you lie there motionless, staring at the dark ceiling of the bedroom. The laptop screen still glowed with Seonghwa’s handsome face twisted in raw ecstasy as he painted the girl’s tongue with thick ropes of cum.
You slowly came back to yourself, the sticky mess between your legs was undeniable — warm, thick slick mixed with fresh squirt coated your thighs. Your pussy gave another lazy clench, still fluttering from the aftershocks.
The burning flush of shame across your cheeks only deepened as the reality of what you'd just done crashed over you. But the hunger didn’t fade. It only sharpened, growing darker and more dangerous.
You bit your lip hard, eyes drifting back to the laptop screen where Mr. Park’s handsome face still filled the frame.
One video wasn't enough. Not even close. You needed more of him. You needed everything.
Your shaky hand drifted back to the laptop, drawn by a hunger you couldn’t deny. You minimized the player, opened a fresh tab, and typed his full name—the one you’d only ever paired with “Mr. Park”—into the search bar, along with the word “porn.”
The screen flooded instantly. Hundreds of videos. Millions of views. Endless pages of thumbnails showcasing that same honey-smooth skin, those dark, siren eyes, and that exquisitely elegant face captured in every shameless, depraved position imaginable.
He wasn’t just doing porn. Park Seonghwa was a star. Top performer. Premium. The quiet fortune, the beautiful house, the effortless lifestyle he never bragged about — it all clicked into place. The sweet single dad next door had been quietly getting rich off his perfect body and velvet voice while the rest of the world stayed blissfully ignorant.
Your heart slammed against your ribs as you scrolled with greedy, desperate need. Then one thumbnail stopped you cold, stealing the breath straight from your lungs.
A solo scene. Just him.
You hit play before your brain could talk you out of it.
And fuck… Seonghwa was even more devastating like this. Completely naked, every inch of that honey-smooth skin glistening with oil under warm studio lights, the liquid sheen sliding over every carved muscle like molten gold poured slow and deliberate. He lounged back against dark silk pillows, looking dangerously beautiful, unashamed, and utterly intoxicating.
One elegant hand was wrapped tight around his thick, heavy cock- already hard and leaking with pre-cum, stroking with slow, purposeful drags, twisting smoothly over the swollen head on every upstroke. His other hand cradled those velvety balls, rolling them gently in his palm, tugging just enough to make his abs flex and a low, luxurious groan slip from those plush lips.
That was just the warm-up.
His hand drifted lazily up his chest, fingers teasing a nipple, pinching and rolling the sensitive peak until it pebbled tight. Seonghwa’s back arched off the sheets in a graceful, sinful curve as a soft hiss of pleasure escaped him. Never breaking rhythm on his cock, he brought those same fingers to his gorgeous mouth.
He slid two deep past his parted lips, fucking his own mouth with wet, lazy thrusts while sucking noisily around them. The obscene sounds filling the room — wet slurping, a low whimper, the slick glide of oiled skin, it was filthy, lewd and addicted. His fist pumped faster along that glistening length, hips starting to roll, breathing growing rougher, more desperate with every passing second.
You couldn’t look away. Your pussy was already soaked again, clenching around nothing as you watched him edge himself with expert, merciless precision. His strokes turned rougher, faster, frantic. Powerful hips bucked, golden muscles trembling, and then he came—hard, messy, breathtaking.
Thick, pearly ropes of cum erupted from the flushed, swollen head in heavy pulses, painting his glistening abs, streaking across his chest, and shooting all the way up to that divinely beautiful face. It landed on his cheek, caught on his parted lips, and dripped slowly down the sharp line of his jaw while his hand kept milking every last drop with lazy, sloppy strokes, like he had all the time in the world to savor it.
He stared straight into the camera, eyes heavy-lidded and dark with lust, cum still shining on his fucked-out face, and whispered in that hoarse, velvet-sultry voice,that made your pussy clench instinctively: "Come on, darling, be a good girl and help Daddy clean this up."
The next words were even filthier—soft, depraved praises about how hard his cock still was for you, how badly he needed your tongue licking up every sticky drop, while he swayed that heavy, glistening length from side to side, still half-hard, slippery with oil and cum, teasing you without mercy.
He was pure, decadent temptation. Porn in its most addictive form and you were already completely, helplessly hooked.
Your face burned scarlet in an instant, heat flooding every inch of your body like wildfire. You slammed the laptop shut so hard the screen clicked sharply in the quiet room, breathing fast and shallow like you’d been caught red-handed. But your pussy didn’t give a damn about shame. It was dripping again, fresh, warm slick sliding slowly down your inner thighs, your swollen clit throbbing dully with insistent need even after two shattering orgasms had already wrecked you.
Damn. It seemed, you have a very serious problem now.
And his name was Mr. Park Seonghwa.
The next few days felt like a feverish, restless dream to you.
You barely slept, barely ate—your whole world shrank to the dim blue glow of your laptop in the darkened bedroom. Every spare second dragged you back into that dark, guilty pleasure: headphones sealed tight, lights off, thighs spread shamelessly wide while you fucked yourself senseless. Orgasm after shattering orgasm rushed through you as you devoured every video of Seonghwa you could find, chasing that sweet, forbidden high like an addict.
You even learned his stage name - StarHwa.
It fit him like a second skin: glowing, untouchable, igniting raw, filthy desire with every sultry glance he threw at the camera.
You quickly made a whole collection of your favourite films.
Every single one that made your pussy flood with heat and your thighs clenching helplessly as it stole the breath from your lungs and left you needy and trembling, was marked with a shiny pink star, like your own little treasure, safely tucked away deep inside your laptop under the innocent, boring label "research."
Your fingers trembled on the mouse as the low, filthy sounds wrapped around you like warm, wet silk, sinking straight into your aching core. A heavy, insistent pulse of arousal bloomed low in your belly, feeding that deep, endless emptiness no toy or fantasy had ever truly satisfied.
Night after night you returned to them, playing each one until you knew every breathless moan, every brutal snap of hips, and every velvet-dirty word by heart.
You watched him pound a pretty girl senseless in front of a full-length mirror, hips snapping with merciless precision while he forced her to watch every thick inch disappear inside her, one elegant hand wrapped tight around her throat. Another night, a lucky little thing rode his face like she owned it—grinding desperately onto that long, sinful tongue as he moaned hungrily into her dripping folds, devouring her like he couldn’t get enough.
You’d seen him drive a thick dildo into a screaming, shaking girl until she squirted in violent, glistening arcs across the sheets. In another clip, he slowly worked a fat plug into a handsome boy’s eager ass, praising him in that low, velvet voice until the boy whimpered and pushed back shamelessly for more.
Clip after clip, he stretched tight pussies around his cock, folded girls in half and fucked them in deep, punishing mating presses, made them cream and squirt all over his glistening golden abs while they rode him like their lives depended on it.
Each one left you wetter, hotter, more ruined than the last—completely submerged in pure, liquid lust.
But the one that truly destroyed you…was the close-up of him eating pussy.
That impossibly long, skilled tongue curling, flicking, plunging so deep inside while he sucked on her swollen clit like it was the sweetest candy he’d ever tasted. The wet, obscene sounds of his mouth working her over, the way his dark eyes stayed half-lidded in bliss, those hungry little moans vibrating straight through her folds—it was too much. Too perfect.
Your own orgasm hits you like an avalanche, rapidly and without warning. You had to slam the pause, thighs shaking violently as a fresh gush of slick soaked the sheets beneath you, wave after wave of aftershocks ripping through your body until you were left gasping, ruined, and still aching for the real thing.
He was too skilled. Too experienced. So fucking sinful.
That unbearable craving only grew worse with every passing day, twisting deeper into your bones until even the simplest thoughts of him made your pussy throb with fresh, shameless need. The innocent version of Mr. Park you once knew was gone — replaced entirely by the sinful man from the videos who now haunted every waking moment.
You were already so exhausted, the constant tug-of-war between the desperate need to fuck Seonghwa senseless and the fragile sense of propriety that kept you at arm’s length slowly driving you insane.
But all of that paled in comparison to the real torment still waiting just days ahead.
Misol’s birthday was only days away, and she was throwing a lavish pajama party right there in the very house where Mr. Park made his famous strawberry pancakes with milk icing every Sunday morning — wearing those soft cardigans that made him look so perfectly domestic and harmless, smiling at you like you were nothing more than his daughter’s sweet, pretty little friend.
You had already said yes.
Ever since you discovered the truth about Seonghwa, the anticipation had been devouring you alive. You constantly caught yourself obsessively staring at the calendar on your phone, counting down the hours like an addict desperate for her next devastating fix.
His seductive velvety voice, that wickedly long tongue, and those elegant fingers haunted you everywhere — during lectures, on crowded buses, even while standing at the sink brushing your teeth.
By the time you stumbled home each evening, your panties were hopelessly ruined, soaked through with sticky, warm juices that clung obscenely to your plump labia. Every step made the wet fabric slide and tease against your sensitive folds, a constant, torturous reminder of how badly your pussy ached for the man who was supposed to be innocuous.
The night before the party, you stood in front of the mirror for nearly an hour, heart hammering with a dizzying mix of worry and forbidden excitement as you tried on every pajama set you owned, searching desperately for the one that would make you look as tempting as possible — because you knew Mr. Park would be there too.
"God, what am I even doing? I need to stop and act like there's nothing wrong… he is Misol’s dad." The thought burned through your mind, cheeks flushing hot while your pulse raced with wicked, shameful excitement. And deep down, you knew you should listen to the voice of reason. But the throb between your thighs told you the truth — you had no intention of stopping.
The moment you slipped into the soft pink shorts and delicate white vest top, your innocent little outfit, which had once made you feel so safe, suddenly felt like a complete lie. The material was very thin, showing off your curves in a way that was a bit too sexy. You turned sideways, smoothing your hands over your hips, imagining Seonghwa’s dark eyes drifting slowly over your body. Would he still give you that gentle, harmless smile and pat your head like always… or would his gaze finally darken when he noticed how shamelessly your hard nipples were poking against the fine fabric, begging for attention?
The thought sent a heavy throb pulsing between your legs, your pussy clenching needily as warmth flooded your core.
You peeled it off and reached for something bolder — the silky black camisole and matching shorts. The cool material whispered over your skin as it hugged your curves even more provocatively, the short hem barely covering the swell of your plump ass.
"Too obvious." You scolded yourself. "If Mr. Park looks at me in this, he'll get it straight away." You tugged nervously at the hem, trying to make it a little more decent, but your mind betrayed you. You couldn’t stop picturing those elegant fingers slipping under the silk, brushing teasingly against your soaked folds while he whispered filthy praise in your ears. You can’t deny that the prospect was extremely tempting. Still not enough, though.
You dug deeper into your underwear drawer, and pulled out the sheer red babydoll set you’d bought on a reckless whim, but never dared wear. The lace was barely there — delicate straps, a plunging neckline that framed your breasts perfectly, and a tiny skirt that flared just enough to tease. You slid it on, the fabric pleasurably cooled your flushed skin.
Would this be enough to finally break through that perfect, gentle mask he’d worn for years and unleash the man who mercilessly ruined girls on cam?
You hope so.
And yet, no matter how provocative it looked in the mirror, it still felt laughably modest compared to the obscene fantasies that had been consuming you every single night.
With trembling fingers you reached for the final option — the black silk slip dress that barely reached mid-thigh, paired with the matching crotchless thongs that you’d hidden at the very back of your drawer. You stepped into the thongs first, gasping softly as the cool air kissed your exposed pussy. No barrier. Nothing could hide how wet you already were. You pulled the slip dress over your head and smoothed it down, expensive silk gliding over your sensitive nipples and heated skin like a lover's tongue.
Your thighs clenched instinctively the moment you caught your reflection. You looked utterly lewd… just like the girls in Seonghwa’s videos. A fresh rush of your mucus ran out of your little hole, coated your bare folds, dripping slowly down your inner thigh.
Oh god… if Mr. Park accidentally brushed against you on the couch, or leaned in close while pouring drinks — he’d feel exactly how open and ready you are. No panties in the way. Just your warm, sweet cunt begging for his thick cock and tongue.
The thought made your knees weak. You imagined him noticing the easy access, his voice dropping low as he whispers in your ear "What a naughty little girl we have here… walking around my house with your pretty pussy on display for me.” The image was so vivid you had to bite your lip hard to choke back a desperate moan as a fresh gush of slick poured from your hole and ran shamelessly down your thighs.
Fuck, you were up to your ears in this mess.
You weren’t sure you could control yourself around him anymore. Not after everything you’d seen.
Every sweet, innocent memory about Mr. Park — him pouring tea with that gentle smile, ruffling Misol’s hair, laughing softly at your lame jokes, those warm, cosy evenings filled with light-hearted talk and strawberry pancakes on lazy Sunday mornings — had been completely burned away by the raw, filthy truth of exactly what that body could do.
You knew how his thick cock stretched and ruined tight pussies until they gaped and fluttered helplessly around him. You knew exactly how long and greedy his tongue was — curling, flicking, burying itself deep while he moaned like he couldn’t get enough. You knew the filthy praises he growled in that velvet voice while he fucked someone senseless, making them cream and squirt all over his glistening golden abs.
You knew all this...and tomorrow night, you would be in his house, wearing almost nothing at all — your little pussy completely exposed for him and dripping beneath the thinnest layer of silk, just waiting for one careless touch to reveal everything.
The night of Misol’s birthday unfolded like a fever dream wrapped in silk ribbons and champagne bubbles.
Mr. Park had outdone himself again. The huge living room glowed with strings of fairy lights that cast a soft, golden haze over everything, turning the space into something intimate and alluring. Presents towered on the coffee table like a tempting pile of silk bows and shimmering iridescent wrapping, while pink champagne flowed endlessly — sweet, fizzy, and dangerously seductive on the tongue.
He had even prepared a gift for each of his daughter’s friends.
When the girls tore open the elegant boxes, delicate, tiny pajama sets made of the finest silk and French lace spilled out — so sheer and perfectly cut that they clung to every curve and draped in all the most sinful places. Delighted gasps and breathy giggles filled the air as the girls looked at Mr. Park like he had personally hung the stars in the sky just for them.
Seonghwa stood in the middle of it all, a source of universal admiration and adoration, glowing like a fucking light bulb. His cheeks flushed with that signature sweet, “innocent” pink as one hand shyly rubbed the back of his neck. He murmured softly, almost apologetically, “You’re all so beautiful… you should treat yourselves more often. Or your boyfriends.”His voice was gentle, almost apologetic, like he was embarrassed by his own bold choice. And just like that, with nothing more than a few quiet words and that devastating smile, he stole every heart in the room all over again.
As the party went on, the music grew louder, the pink champagne flowed stronger, and the girls grew drunken, reminding you of giddy, fluttering butterflies — flushed cheeks, sparkling laughter, and silk-clad bodies swaying lazily under the golden fairy lights.
But you weren’t drunk on alcohol or sugar. You were drunk on him — completely, helplessly, ruinously drunk on Seonghwa. Just hearing the name “Mr. Park” made your head spin and heat bloom low in your belly. Let alone the man himself.
All night, your eyes kept finding the elegant line of his shoulders, the way the luxurious black silk of his designer pajamas slid over his sculpted frame like liquid shadow, catching the light every time he moved. He looked absolutely devastating, predatory elegance wrapped in effortless charm — majestic, alluring, and far too tempting for a man who was supposed to be just an ordinary single dad.
Every stolen glance sent a fresh wave of heat rushing straight to your core, making your pussy throb beneath the thin silk of your own pajamas. The delicate fabric suddenly felt too tight, too damp, clinging uncomfortably to your swollen folds with every little shift.
You tried not to lose sight of him, yet Mr. Park kept slipping away, as if he were playing with you a slow, maddening game of hide-and-seek — retreating into the semi-darkness of quiet corners, sinking into the couch among fluffy pillows, offering those polite, sweet smiles without ever fully joining the chaos.
Eventually he disappeared altogether, leaving behind nothing but an ache that settled low and heavy between your thighs.
God, what you wouldn’t give to follow him right now. You wanted to slip away from the laughter, find whatever dark corner he’d claimed, drop to your knees like the desperate little slut, and press your face against the front of his silk pants. You wanted to feel his cock twitch and thicken against your cheek while you nuzzled him shamelessly, showing him exactly how good, how eager you could be for him.
You wanted him to finally snap — to pin you against the nearest wall, shove one of his hands down your slutty tiny shorts, and sink two long fingers deep into your tight little pussy while his wicked tongue licked into your mouth like he was starving for you.
You imagined the low, velvety moan he’d make when he felt exactly how drenched and ready your pretty cunt already was for him. The thought made your nipples tighten into aching peaks against the thin fabric and the fresh rush of slick coating your plump, swollen folds.
By the time the music finally died down and everyone collapsed in a happy, drunken pile of bodies in Misol’s bedroom and soft snores filled the room — you were still wide awake and burning alive.
You lay there for over an hour, eyes fixed on the dark, silent ceiling. Sleep stubbornly refused to come. Your thoughts kept racing, wild and restless, while your thighs clenched under the duvet, searching for relief that never arrived.
Eventually you gave up. Grabbing the half-full glass of champagne from the nightstand, you slipped quietly out of the room and padded barefoot down the dimly lit hallway toward the kitchen. The cool floor sent little shivers racing up your bare legs, making your skin prickle.
But it seems you weren’t the only one who couldn’t sleep.
The second you pushed open the kitchen door, you froze. Mr. Park was already there. Seonghwa stood in the middle of the kitchen looking utterly wrecked in the most sinful way possible as if he had just spent the last few hours lost in slow, filthy, passionate fucking and hadn’t bothered to hide the evidence of his pleasure.
His silk top was dangerously unbuttoned, revealing a tempting sliver of smooth, golden chest gleaming under the soft kitchen light. The waistband of his pants sat teasingly low on his hips, the silky fabric clinging to the powerful lines of his thighs and exposing that deep, delicious V that arrowed straight down toward the heavy outline of his cock. His blond hair was deliciously tousled, soft strands falling messily across his forehead as though someone had pulled it hard in the throes of pleasure. And those plump, luxurious lips of his were swollen and reddened, clearly bitten raw for hours.
The usual gentle expression you knew so well had vanished. In its place was something darker, more depraved. Hungrier. A predator’s gaze — sharp, hypnotic, burning straight through you. His eyes dragged slowly down your body, drinking in every inch of you in those tiny, slutty silk sets you'd chosen with such filthy intent. The lust in his stare was so intense that you could almost feel it physically. It slid languidly over the graceful length of your neck, lingering on the way your nipples strained visibly against the delicate silk, tracing the plush softness of your breasts, before continuing lower and over your bare thighs and the short hem that barely skimmed the soft curve of your plump ass.
Mr Park’s dark, sultry eyes dragged slowly down your body, drinking in every inch of you in those tiny, slutty silk sets you’d chosen with such filthy intent. The lust in his stare was so intense that you could almost feel it physically. It slid languidly over the graceful length of your neck, lingering on the how your nipples strained visibly against the delicate silk, tracing the the plush softness of your breasts, before continuing lower — over your bare thighs and the short hem that barely skimmed the soft curve of your plump ass.
You were seen standing frozen in the doorway like a deer caught in the headlights, the champagne glass completely forgotten in your trembling hand. Your thighs clenched instinctively as another warm rush of slick slipped from your needy little cunt.
And for the first time tonight, the two of you were completely, dangerously alone.
Seonghwa had been watching you for months, if not years — long before the pink champagne and luxurious silk pajamas turned the living room into a hazy, intoxicating dream filled with shimmering fairy lights and forbidden temptation.
What had started as a quiet, harmless crush on his daughter’s pretty friend had twisted into something far darker, far more ravenous. God, it was so wrong. There were nights the guilt gnawed at him until he could barely breathe, but the temptation was simply too powerful. He was only a man, after all, and for the years of loneliness and sexual frustration his needs had grown sharper, hungrier, so much so that it was impossible to ignore.
He wanted you in every filthy, tender, and utterly devastating way imaginable. The only thing still holding him back was your long friendship with Misol. Yet even that couldn’t stop the endless stream of lewd, unholy thoughts that flooded his mind whenever you were near.
He ached to ruin that sweet little cunt with his thick cock until you sobbed his name in broken moans, then soothe every trembling inch of you with slow, greedy strokes of his wicked tongue. He wanted you bent over every surface in this house — riding him reverse cowgirl so he could watch your soft, plush ass bounce and ripple with every brutal snap of his hips, or folded in half beneath him so he could watch every thick inch of himself stretch your pretty pussy open, claiming you completely.
But Seonghwa wasn’t blind.
He had caught every single sign — the way your thighs pressed together the instant he leaned in too close, the pretty blush that crept up the elegant column of your neck when the hem of his shirt rode up and revealed a strip of bare skin, and how you would quickly lick the corner of your mouth while staring at his lips like you were starving for them. You were such a naughty little thing, and God, he loved every second of it.
Lately your stares have grown bolder, hungrier. Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder what had finally pushed you across that delicate line between propriety and desire. Had you simply decided to stop pretending? Or maybe… maybe you had stumbled across one of the videos he had starred in. The mere thought that you might have touched yourself to him — your sweet fingers buried deep inside that tight little princess pussy while you watched him moan and come like a desperate whore, made his cock throb with dark, possessive satisfaction all night long.
After all, Seonghwa knew exactly how good he was. He fucked like a god, and no one who had ever been under him could deny it. In his wilder days he had claimed more than a few sweet, dripping cunts and eager little asses, and every single one of them had left his bed ruined for anyone else. What he wouldn’t give to show you just how skillfully he could use his thick cock and greedy tongue — to prove that no matter who you let between your legs afterward, you would always come crawling back to him, because no one else would ever satisfy you the way he could. He would reshape that pretty little pussy until it remembered only him if that was what it took.
Tonight’s party had been absolute torture.
You looked utterly obscene in the tiny silk pajama set he had chosen himself. Now he was half-regretting about this. The delicate fabric clung to every curve like a second skin, the shorts riding high enough to tease the soft, bare underside of your delicious ass with every step. He had spent the entire evening painfully hard, forced to hide in shadows and among fluffy pillows, barely keeping the beast inside him leashed.
At one point the tension became almost unbearable.
Seonghwa had no choice but to shamefully escape to his bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the carefully constructed dam of restraint and decorum he had been clinging to all night finally shattered.
Hwa hurriedly tore off his silk top with such force that the buttons scattered across the floor, and shoved the pants down just far enough to free his cock. The heavy length slapped against his perfectly sculpted abs with a loud, wet sound, splashing sticky drops of pre-cum across his defined muscles. Velvety, long cock stood flushed a deep red, glistening under the low light, coated in a thick layer of pre-cum, like a delicacy; beneath it, his balls hung full and taut, heavy with the load making it clear how much he was ready to release.
Seonghwa could barely believe he had lasted this long, it was so heavy and swollen that he felt physically uncomfortable. Hwa desperately needed some kind of release; otherwise, he might simply lose control and explode from intense arousal.
Grabbing the first pillow he could find from the bed, he mounted it like he wanted to mount you. Face buried in the cool silk sheets, ass high in the air, he fucked into it with punishing snaps of his hips — hard, filthy, relentless. His heavy balls slapped wetly against the fabric with every thrust as he imagined driving deep into your tight little cunt, stretching you wide around him. Sweat traced down the elegant curve of his spine while his back flexed powerfully.
He had caught every single sign — the way your thighs pressed together the instant he leaned in too close, the pretty blush that crept up the elegant column of your neck when the hem of his shirt rode up and revealed a strip of bare skin, and how you would quickly lick the corner of your mouth while staring at his lips like you were starving for them. You were such a naughty little thing, and God, he loved every second of it.
Lately your stares have grown bolder, hungrier. Seonghwa couldn’t help but wonder what had finally pushed you across that delicate line between propriety and desire. Had you simply decided to stop pretending? Or maybe… maybe you had stumbled across one of the videos he had starred in. The mere thought that you might have touched yourself to him — your sweet fingers buried deep inside that tight little princess pussy while you watched him moan and come like a desperate whore, made his cock throb with dark, possessive satisfaction all night long.
After all, Seonghwa knew exactly how good he was. He fucked like a god, and no one who had ever been under him could deny it. In his wilder days he had claimed more than a few sweet, dripping cunts and eager little asses, and every single one of them had left his bed ruined for anyone else. What he wouldn’t give to show you just how skillfully he could use his thick cock and greedy tongue — to prove that no matter who you let between your legs afterward, you would always come crawling back to him, because no one else would ever satisfy you the way he could. He would reshape that pretty little pussy until it remembered only him if that was what it took.
Tonight’s party had been absolute torture.
You looked utterly obscene in the tiny silk pajama set he had chosen himself. Now he was half-regretting about this. The delicate fabric clung to every curve like a second skin, the shorts riding high enough to tease the soft, bare underside of your delicious ass with every step. He had spent the entire evening painfully hard, forced to hide in shadows and among fluffy pillows, barely keeping the beast inside him leashed.
At one point the tension became almost unbearable.
Seonghwa had no choice but to shamefully escape to his bedroom. The moment the door clicked shut behind him, the carefully constructed dam of restraint and decorum he had been clinging to all night finally shattered.
Hwa hurriedly tore off his silk top with such force that the buttons scattered across the floor, and shoved the pants down just far enough to free his cock. The heavy length slapped against his perfectly sculpted abs with a loud, wet sound, splashing sticky drops of pre-cum across his defined muscles. Velvety, long cock stood flushed a deep red, glistening under the low light, coated in a thick layer of pre-cum, like a delicacy; beneath it, his balls hung full and taut, heavy with the load making it clear how much he was ready to release.
Seonghwa could barely believe he had lasted this long, it was so heavy and swollen that he felt physically uncomfortable. Hwa desperately needed some kind of release; otherwise, he might simply lose control and explode from intense arousal.
Grabbing the first pillow he could find from the bed, he mounted it like he wanted to mount you. Face buried in the cool silk sheets, ass high in the air, he fucked into it with punishing snaps of his hips — hard, filthy, relentless. His heavy balls slapped wetly against the fabric with every thrust as he imagined driving deep into your tight little cunt, stretching you wide around him. Sweat traced down the elegant curve of his spine while his back flexed powerfully.
“Fuck… baby, there you go.” Seonghwa panted into the tangled sheets, his voice wrecked and hoarse with pleasure. “Take Daddy’s cock… just like that. You were fucking made for it.” He groaned deep in his chest, hips snapping harder. “Been dying to bury myself in this tight little cunt for so fucking long…”
Seonghwa flipped onto his back, still rutting against the pillow, wrapping a slick fist around his throbbing cock and stroking with long, obscene pulls. His other hand tugged and squeezed his aching balls as filthy fantasies spilled from his plump, bitten lips.
He pictured you on your knees, taking every inch down your warm, eager throat like a good girl. He pictured you watching his videos while he fucked you senseless with his fingers. He pictured you creaming and squirting all over his cock as he claimed you completely.
Hwa's strokes grew frantic, hips snapping up hard. A strangled, broken moan tore from his throat, as he finally cum. Thick, pearly ropes of cum erupted from the swollen head in long, messy jets, painting the pillow in glistening streaks. He kept grinding through it, smearing the warm load everywhere until the silk was completely ruined and shining with his sperm.
Even then, he wasn’t done.
Seonghwa scooped up the creamy mess of his cum from his sculpted abs with two fingers and brought the glistening digits straight to his mouth, smearing the pearly load obscenely across his plump lips and tongue before sucking them clean with loud, wet, filthy sounds.
“Look what you did to me, baby…” Seonghwa exhaled shakily, his siren eyes half-lidded and glazed with bliss. He looked like he had just finished a long, filthy porn shoot, flushed, spent, and glistening with sweat and cum. “You made Daddy so fucking dirty… made me milk out so much sperm for you.”
He scooped another thick rope from the swollen, throbbing head of his cock and pushed it between his lips, sucking greedily while moaning softly around his own load. Hwa moaned softly at the warm, milky-salty taste coating his tongue, eyes fluttering shut in pure bliss. He could already picture it so clearly — feeding every thick drop to you one day. Making you lick it slowly from his fingers, from the swollen head of his cock, from his lips… all while he praised you in that low, velvet voice, telling you what a good little cumslut you were for Daddy.
The taste of his release only made him hungrier for the real thing — for you.
When the last tremors finally faded, Seonghwa lay sprawled across the bed, chest heaving, golden skin flushed and glistening with sweat. His cock still twitched lazily against his toned stomach, heavy and spent.
By the time his mind cleared, the laughter and music throughout the house had completely died down, leaving everything wrapped in a thick, sleepy silence.
“Damn…” Seonghwa muttered hoarsely, dragging a tired hand over his face and pushing the damp blond strands away from his eyes. With heavy limbs he forced himself out of bed and headed straight for the shower.
After cleaning up just enough to look presentable again, then slipped another set of luxurious silk pyjamas. Still barefoot, he padded quietly down the hallway toward the kitchen for a glass of water.
He was reaching into the fridge when he heard the soft sound of bare footsteps behind him.
Seonghwa turned slowly… and there you were.
You stood in the doorway wearing nothing but the tiny silk pajama set he had chosen himself, the delicate fabric barely containing your body. The champagne glass trembled slightly in your hand, and your big, beautiful eyes were wide, locked onto him.
Seonghwa’s gaze sharpened instantly, turning dark as it dragged slowly down your body. He drank in every soft curve, the way your nipples had hardened beneath the thin silk, practically begging for his mouth to latch on and suck them until they were swollen and cherry-red. His eyes continued lower, tracing the smooth expanse of bare skin and the dangerously short hem that barely covered the lush, plump curve of your ass.
You looked like every filthy fantasy he had just fucked that pillow to.
And for the first time tonight, the two of you were completely, dangerously alone.
The kitchen suddenly felt impossibly small, the air thick and electric with everything neither of you had dared to say out loud.
You stood frozen in the doorway, champagne glass cool against your clammy palm, while Seonghwa leaned against the counter like he owned the darkness itself. His silk top clung to the faint sheen of sweat still drying on his golden skin, unbuttoned dangerously low to reveal the sharp cut of his collarbones. Long, angry scratch marks raked across his shoulders — fresh, red lines left by someone’s nails in the heat of passion. The sight sent a sharp, bitter taste spread across your tongue.. Had he been with someone else while you were all laughing in the living room? No… he had been right there with you the whole time. So… had he made them himself?
His blond hair was a tousled wreck, eyes darker than you had ever seen them — predatory, unblinking, dragging slowly over every inch of you.
You could feel the heat of his stare burning across your skin like a slow caress.
It was so new, so hellishly captivating, that for a breathless moment you forgot how to breathe, a molten wave of excitement flooding through your body. That devilish sparkle dancing deep in his eyes only made it worse. If he kept looking at you like that — dark, knowing, and utterly starving — you would have melted right there on the kitchen floor into a slick, trembling puddle of pure lust.
The raw hunger in his gaze made your needy little hole throb with fresh urgency. Filthy images flooded your mind: him bending you over the counter without a word, yanking those tiny shorts down your legs, and burying his face between your thighs until you were dripping down his chin, moaning and begging for more.
But those were just your little fantasies. Because all Mr. Park did was give you that same soft, shy smile he had worn earlier and gesture vaguely at the fridge.
“I couldn’t sleep.” He said, voice low and a little embarrassed. “Thought a glass of warm milk might help…” Milk? Seriously? The word hung in the charged air, so absurdly innocent it almost made you laugh. “Did I wake you?” Hwa added quickly, trying to smooth over the awkwardness. A faint blush colored his handsome cheeks, giving him that gentle, sweet charm that looked almost ridiculous next to how sinful he still looked — flushed skin, scratch marks, and that dark, predatory glint in his eyes. “Or couldn’t you sleep either? Everyone passed out ages ago.”
“No, it's fine.” You replied, stepping into the kitchen on shaky legs. “It was all just… a bit much. I couldn’t get to sleep.”
The small talk started — safe, ridiculous, pointless, while desire pulsed hot and heavy between your legs and his eyes kept drifting down to the way you kept squeezing your thighs together, as if that could possibly hide how soaked your pretty little pussy had become. He asked about the champagne. You mumbled something about it being too sweet. He laughed softly, the sound low, velvet, rough, and said he had picked the pink one because it reminded him of something pretty.
You both knew exactly what he meant.
The tension between you was thick enough to taste — heavy, crackling, alive. You opened your mouth to say something normal, anything to ease the unbearable awkwardness of the moment, but the words that spilled out were disastrous and irreversible.
“I’ve seen your films.” Holy shit. Your face burned instantly, stomach twisting into a painful knot. You wanted to die on the spot, to sink straight through the tiles, to run and hide forever beneath the pile of pink cushions and glitter in Misol’s bedroom.
Seonghwa froze completely, as though someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over him. Then a low, dark chuckle rumbled from his throat — half-ashamed, half-starving. He rubbed the back of his neck, the expensive silk pulling tight across his chest, and when his eyes met yours again the predator was fully awake. Pupils blown wide, gaze locked on you like prey he had been stalking for months.
“Did you like what you saw?” He whispered, so low and hoarse the words barely reached you. His voice was pure velvet soaked in sin — dark honey laced with poison, carrying a dangerous, almost demonic undertone that promised every filthy thing he wanted to do to you. It wrapped around you like smoke, pulling you in the way moths are helplessly drawn to flame.
The air between you ignited, flaring hot as hellfire, thick with crackling tension and forbidden desire. You could barely breathe, let alone speak. Every inhale dragged slowly and heavy through your lungs. This couldn’t be real. It had to be a fever dream — the kind that left you soaked and aching when you woke up alone in the dark.
Mr. Park was standing so close now that the warmth rolling off his body sank straight into your skin. His half-open silk shirt brushed against the lace on your pajamas, and the faint, intoxicating scent of his sweat, dried cum, and rich perfume clung to him like the filthiest secret. His eyes were black fire, slowly devouring every shaky rise of your chest and every subtle shift of your thighs.
You didn’t answer. The words were trapped somewhere between your brain and your tongue, because all you could do was stare at his lavish, lewd mouth and imagine it on you — licking, sucking, owning.
The silence stretched one heartbeat too long.
Seonghwa jerked back like you’d burned him, spinning away so fast the silk of his shirt flared open wider across his chest. His shoulders went rigid, the powerful muscles in his back flexing hard beneath the thin fabric as he dragged a hand through his messy blond hair.
“Fuck, I’m so sorry.” He stammered, voice shaky and raw. “Listen, darling… I mean, Y/N. That was… I shouldn’t have. I didn’t mean to push like that. It’s the alcohol, I just...shit, I’m gonna go…” He was already stepping toward the hallway, bare feet hurrying across the cold floor, elegant shoulders hunched like he was trying to vanish back into the shadows the way he had all night.
But your hand shot out before your brain could catch up. Your fingers caught the hem of his silk shirt and yanked him to a halt. The fabric was smooth, opulent, still warm and damp from his earlier sweat, and it clung to your skin like it never wanted you to let go.
“Yes.” You breathed, voice trembling yet steady. The dam inside you finally broke, and every filthy, secret thought you’d kept locked away for so long came pouring out in a hot, unstoppable rush. “Yes… I loved it. So much. I imagined you doing every single thing to me. Every single night. I came so hard thinking about you Mr. Park, squirted all over my sheets, soaking everything, because I couldn’t stop picturing your thick cock splitting me open. I fucked myself stupid with toys, none of which could ever compare to you, watching your videos on repeat, pretending it was you stretching my tight little cunt, my ass, my throat… filling me until my belly swelled with your cum. I wanted you to claim me, Mr. Park. I wanted it so fucking badly.”
The effect on him was instant and devastating.
Seonghwa’s whole body locked up, then shuddered violently like you’d struck a live wire. A broken, guttural sound tore from his throat — half moan, half desperate whine as his head fell back and his eyes rolled for a heartbeat before squeezing shut in pure bliss. His chest heaved, brown, sugary nipples tight against the open silk, the front of his pants tenting obscenely as fresh pre-cum soaked through the fabric.
“Tell me more, baby.” He rasped, the plea wrecked and starving, as if he were the one on his knees now. “Please… fuck, tell me everything.”
Sudden courage surged through you like liquid fire — bold, reckless, and burning away every last shred of hesitation and shame. You stepped forward and pressed your body tightly against his back, the warmth of him sinking into your skin as your hand slid shamelessly down his stomach and straight into the front of his pants.
Your fingers wrapped tight around his thick, throbbing length. He was burning hot, velvet-steel, pulsing so violently against your palm you felt every vein swelled. The silk was completely ruined, soaked with pre-cum that smeared warm and slippery over your fingers the second you stroked him once — slowly, deliberately and grubbly. And blimey, he felt so perfect beneath your touch.
Seonghwa’s hips jerked forward with a quiet, plaintive groan, his head dropping helplessly as another full-body shudder tore through him.
A slow, smug little smile curved your strawberry-red lips at the sound. Fuck, you couldn’t even pretend it didn’t turn you on.
‘I couldn't think of anything else...’ You purred sweetly; the sound of your voice was sultry and warm, like honey dripping onto his skin. Your hand tightened around his thick length, stroking him with long, languid pulls. Your thumb swirled over the swollen, leaking head through the silk, teasing the sensitive underside before pressing lightly into the slit, causing more pre-cum oozed out in thick, glossy drops, coating your fingers in a warm, slippery mess. “Only your fat cock… leaking for me, stretching my tight little cunt open while I screamed your name.” Your words hung in the charged air, sinful and shameless, wrapping around both of you like smoke.
His breathing turned ragged and broken, almost like soft sobs. His whole body shuddered violently against you, every hard muscle trembling and twitching as he lost control under your hand. Such a perfect and proper Mr. Park had completely unraveled, hips rolling helplessly into your fist like he was already fucking you right there against the counter.
“Keep going, angel,” he rasped, his voice completely shattered. “Don’t you dare stop… Tell Daddy how you fucked that pretty little pussy with your toys. Tell me how fucking wet you got for me, princess. How you dripped and soaked everything while you moaned my name like a desperate little whore. I need it. I need every fucking detail.”
The sleepy silence of the kitchen was broken only by the wet, obscene schlick-schlick of your hand eagerly pumping his cock through the ruined silk and the broken, slutty whimpers falling spilling from his pretty mouth. But you wanted skin. You wanted every hot inch of him.
To hell with it. You shamelessly shoved your hand straight past the waistband, no fabric left between you, just hot, perfectly smooth skin and pure lust.
Your fingers wrapped around his bare cock, and the heavy, throbbing weight of it in your palm was so tempting that your mouth immediately filled with saliva. You licked your lips unconsciously, already imagining the creamy, rich taste of his cum pouring copiously from the tiny, pulsating slit at the plump, rounded tip. There was so much to worship — so much to lick, suck, choke on, and swallow until your belly was full of him.
A fresh rush of slick oozed from your greedy little cunt, soaking your silky folds and dripping down your thighs as you stroked him root to tip, slow and filthy. Your thumb swirled over the leaking head, twisting teasingly so more thick pre-cum spilled down to his heavy, velvety balls.
“God, Mr. Park…”You ou breathed, voice dripping with sin. “You’re so fucking big.” You squeezed tighter, pumping him faster, the disgustingly loud, wet slurping filling the quiet kitchen. “I love how you throb for me… how messy and leaky you get. I could jerk this fat cock for hours while I tell you every nasty thing I’ve dreamed about.”
Every word that left your lips only made you wetter, your greedy little cunt clenching around nothing as you imagined all the ways he could destroy you. You could feel your own slick dripping down your inner thighs, and the thought of him finding out just how soaked you were made you squeeze his cock even harder.
“The way you fuck in those videos… God, it should be illegal.” You breathed, voice thick with lust. “How is any girl supposed to stay indifferent when you look like that? Hips snapping so hard, that perky, firm ass up in the air, moaning like a desperate little whore… It turns me on so fucking much.” You squeezed his throbbing cock tighter, stroking him faster as your own words made your pussy clench. “But what I want most is this cock ruining me. I want to drop to my knees right here and worship it — suck you so deep until I’m choking and crying, while you fuck my throat.” Your lips brushed the warm, honey skin on his shoulder as you whispered the last part, voice trembling with need. “Please, Mr. Park… Seonghwa… let me.”
Before you could even react, he yanked your hand out of his pants, spun you roughly, and slammed you against his chest. One elegant hand collared your delicate throat, fingers pressing just hard enough to make your pulse hammer wildly against his palm. His other hand banded around your waist, crushing you to him even closer so every rigid, throbbing inch of his cock ground hot and heavy against your lower stomach through the thin silk.
Seonghwa didn’t kiss you. He devoured you. His mouth crashed down on yours, tongue shoving past your lips in a filthy, wet slide, claiming every inch of your mouth like he owned it. Without warning, he pulled back just enough to spit a thick, warm glob of saliva straight onto your waiting tongue, watching with dark satisfaction as it landed heavy and glistening. Then he dove back in, licking his own spit from your mouth with long, obscene strokes, sucking on your tongue like he wanted to consume you whole. It was messy, desperate, drool already spilling down your chin and onto your heaving tits as he fucked your mouth with his tongue and bit your lower lip hard enough to draw blood.
When he finally ripped away, you were gasping, lips swollen and glistening with his spit. His eyes were pure black hunger, darker and more ravenous than before as if tasting you had only made him starve for the rest of you.
“Just look at you…” Seonghwa growled against your lips, his voice low and velvet-wrapped darkness.“Such a naughty little slut, confessing every filthy fantasy to Daddy. No shame at all, hmm?” His grip on your throat tightened possessively, thumb stroking your racing pulse as that devilish smirk curved his lips. “You really thought I’d let you drop to your knees and suck me off just like that? Oh no, princess. First you’re going to earn it. You’re going to work that greedy little cunt on my cock until you’re shaking and dripping for me.” He leaned in closer, lips brushing your ear. “I’m going to fuck your pretty princess pussy so hard you’ll feel me for days.”
He didn’t wait for your answer. His hand stayed clamped around your throat as he dragged you down the dark hallway toward the guest bedroom, your bare feet scrambling to keep up on the cool floor. Three steps in and his self-control completely shattered. Seonghwa shoved you hard against the wall, roughly yanked your silk top over your head, and ripped the tiny shorts down your legs in one brutal tug. You were naked in seconds, your perky tits heaving and lasciviously swayed with every shaky breath, your pretty pussy swollen and glistening, warm slick already dripping down your thighs in shiny, obscene trails.
Seonghwa spat loudly into his palm, then slapped his wet hand straight between your legs. Two long fingers dragged slowly through your silky, soaked folds, spreading his warm spit and your sticky arousal everywhere, coating your swollen lips and clit until everything was slick and messy. He cupped your entire pussy in his palm and squeezed hard, possessively — claiming you completely — letting you feel just how drenched and desperate your greedy little cunt was for him.
No one had ever touched you like that before, and fuck… it felt so bloody good.
“Fuck, listen to how wet you are for me, little princess.” Seonghwa growled, his moist, plump lips brushing against the delicate skin of your earlobe with every word, sending hot shivers racing down your spine and making your pussy clench greedily around nothing. His fingers rubbed slow, dirty circles over your swollen clit before sinking knuckle-deep inside you with a loud, obscene squelch. “Every time you came over to our house, sweetheart, I used to fantasize about bending you over the nearest surface and destroying this pretty little pussy until you couldn’t walk straight.” He slapped your soaked cunt sharply — once, twice, the wet smacks echoing down the hallway as your hips jerked and another gush of slick coated his fingers.
“You’re such a Miss Sugar Pink.” Seonghwa growled against your ear, voice low and filthy. “I’ve been losing my mind wondering how creamy and honeyed this pretty pussy would taste, how hotly and intensely you’ll squirt.” His fingers curled deep inside you with a disgusting slurping sound, stroking that perfect spot until your knees threatened to buckle. “Fuck, I’m going to ruin you so good, angel.” He promised darkly. “Gonna stretch this tight little cunt until it only remembers the shape of my cock. You’re never going to want anyone else after I’m done with you. I want to own you, princess,” Seonghwa growled, voice dark and possessive. “Every hole. Every moan. Every fucking inch of you.” Mr. Park's purring, extremely sexual voice vibrates against your heated skin like an electric shock, sending waves of arousal straight to your lustful, yearning vagina. His fingers curled viciously inside you, hitting that perfect spot over and over until your walls trembled and clenched greedily around him, trying desperately to keep him buried deep. “And now I’m going to.” With a filthy, wet pop he yanked his fingers out, spun you around, and slammed your back against the wall.
His hand immediately dove between your legs again, cupping your dripping pussy possessively, rubbing slow, dirty circles over your swollen clit while his mouth crashed into yours once more.
You moaned lewdly into the kiss, one hand fisting his blond hair, the other wrapping tight around his throbbing cock, stroking him fast and greedy. You stayed like that for long, dizzy minutes — bodies grinding desperately, tongues sliding wet and messy, his fingers spanking your soaked cunt while you jerked his leaking cock, both of you lost in raw, filthy need.
“Oh God… I’m gonna squirt if you keep...” You whined desperately into his mouth, voice breaking.
Seonghwa ripped his lips away from yours, breathing hard. He slowed down, lazily pulled his fingers out of your dripping pussy, leaving your greedy little hole quivering and empty. Without a word, he lifted his slick, glistening fingers to your mouth. You didn’t even think. Your lips parted obediently and you sucked them in deep, tasting yourself — sweet, tangy, and filthy — bobbing your head and moaning around his fingers exactly like you would around his cock.
“You’re driving me fucking crazy…” Seonghwa groaned, eyes rolling back as a guttural moan tore from his throat. “I want you so badly.” He dragged you the last few feet down the hall, kicked the guest bedroom door open, and shoved you inside.
The moment the door clicked shut behind you, Mr. Park didn’t waste a single second.
You never made it to bed. Instead, he pinned you right back against the wall, one muscular thigh shoving between yours to spread you wide open. His elegant fingers slid back between your legs, but this time the rhythm turned slow, deliberate, almost reverent — teasing you with lazy, heated strokes that made your soaked folds part so easily for him.
He was bold now, completely shameless. His wet fingertips slid down, right between your buttocks, teased over your tight little asshole, circling the sensitive ring once, twice, slow and deliberate, before sliding back up and sinking knuckle-deep into your dripping cunt again. The wet, filthy sounds of him fingering you filled the soft, enveloping darkness of the bedroom — loud, obscene slurping and smacking that echoed off the walls. You were sure the sleeping girls upstairs could hear every single wet thrust of his fingers if they weren’t already passed out.
You didn’t give a single fuck if they could hear.
They could have dragged chairs into the hallway, popped open more champagne, and settled in with popcorn to watch the show — you would have given them one hell of a performance. The only thought that still flickered in the back of your mind was Misol… but even that fragile worry melted away under the hot, frenzied intensity of Mr. Park’s hands on you.
Your mouths stayed locked in a sloppy, desperate kiss the entire time — tongues sliding wetly, spit dripping messily down your chins and onto your heaving tits, teeth nipping at swollen lips. Every time his fingers curled deep inside you, you moaned shamelessly into his mouth and he swallowed every sound like he was starving for it, grinding his rock-hard cock against your hip through the ruined silk.
Then he pulled back just enough to growl against your lips, voice low and commanding.
“Stick your tongue out for me, princess.”
You obeyed instantly, mouth falling open, tongue sliding out pink and waiting like an offering.
Seonghwa stared down at you with pure hunger, then slowly, deliberately spat a thick, warm glob of saliva right onto the center of your tongue. It landed heavy and glistening, slowly trickling back toward your throat. But before you could even taste it, he leaned in with a guttural groan and licked it right off — his tongue dragging slow and filthy over yours, claiming every drop of his own spit like he owned your mouth. The deep moan that vibrated from his chest into yours was pure sin as he kissed you even messier, tongues tangling and sucking greedily, drool spilling down your chin.
You were shaking, your pussy clenching rhythmically around his fingers, when the words finally tumbled out in a broken, filthy whimper.
“I want it all, Daddy… I want your tongue, your cock, your fingers, give me everything.”
Seonghwa moans like you just knocked the air out of his lungs. The sound is raw, shocked, and so fucking turned on it makes his cock twitch violently against your thigh. He fucking loved it. Loved that you weren’t some shy little girl, blushing and hiding under his gaze. No, you were a greedy, dripping slut who looked him straight in the eyes while begging for his cock, his tongue, and every filthy thing he could give you.
“You’re such a greedy little slut, aren’t you?” He rasped, voice wrecked and dripping with praise as he pumped his fingers deeper, scissoring you open with wet, filthy sounds. “We can try 69, baby… you can sit on my face and smother me with that pretty pussy while your hot little tongue works my cock like a good girl.”
“I want to see your handsome face while you lick my pussy, Daddy.” You cut him off, bold and shameless, eyes locked on him.
The words hit him like lightning. Seonghwa’s entire body trembled hard. His fingers stuttered inside you for a heartbeat, eyes rolling back as a deep, animalistic groan ripped from his chest. When his gaze snapped back to yours it was feral — pupils blown wide, pure starved bliss written across his face. His plump lips parted on a heavy pant, tongue darting out to lick the taste of you off them.
“Goddamn, princess…” He breathed, voice hoarse and reverent. “You really are fucking perfect. Sweet and slutty and all mine.”
You didn’t have time to react before Seonghwa yanked his fingers out with a wet, obscene squelch, lifted you clean off the floor like you weighed nothing, and threw you onto the bed. The mattress bounced beneath you as he climbed on top, crawling up your body with dark, predatory intent. His blond hair fell messily into his eyes, a silk shirt hanging open over his flushed, sweaty chest. And for the first time that night, you finally saw him — the real Seonghwa. But the man from the screen. The top porn star, the one who fucked like a god and ruined anyone lucky enough to end up beneath him.
His strong hands easily shoved your thighs wide apart, spreading you obscenely for him. Hwa stared down at your dripping pussy like a starving man about to devour his last meal.
“You want to see my face while I eat this pretty cunt?” He growls, lowering himself between your legs until his hot breath fans over your soaked folds. His siren eyes stay locked on yours the entire time — dark, hungry, unblinking. “Then watch me, baby. Watch Daddy make you scream.” His tongue drags up your slit in one long, filthy stripe, and that’s how a real party gets started.
Seonghwa didn’t tease. Hwa pulled you down hard, forcing your swollen, dripping pussy to press his face completely. The moment your soaked folds pressed flush against his mouth, a deep, guttural moan rumbled from his chest, vibrating straight through your core and making your thighs tremble. His plush lips sealed hungrily around your throbbing clit, sucking it into the wet heat of his mouth while his long, sinful tongue flicked and swirled with shameless greed. Mr. Park ate you like a man completely starved so fucking loud, messy, and utterly obscene — slurping and licking every drop of your slick as if it were the most addictive nectar he’d ever tasted.
He spat directly onto your pussy, watching the thick, warm glob of saliva slowly mix with your creamy juices before he dove back in like a man possessed. His long tongue fucked deep into your clenching hole, thrusting in and out with wet, obscene strokes while he slurped and sucked every drop of your slick like it was his favorite drug. The room filled with the loudest, filthiest sounds — messy slurping, greedy sucking, and his constant low, hungry moans vibrating straight against your core.
Every time you tried to lift your hips even slightly, his strong hands gripped harder and yanked you back down, smothering his face completely in your dripping pussy until his cheeks, chin, and nose were shiny and glistening with your arousal.
“Fuck, you taste so fucking good, princess.” He groaned against your folds, voice muffled and rough with pleasure. He sucked your swollen clit hard again, then dragged his tongue lower, licking a slow, filthy stripe over your tight little asshole before spitting on it too. Hwa alternated between devouring your pussy and rimming you with shameless hunger, moaning like he couldn’t decide which part of you he wanted to ruin first. His own cock twitched and leaked steadily against his stomach, hips bucking uselessly into the mattress as he lost himself completely in eating you alive.
You were shaking uncontrollably, thighs trembling on either side of his head, soft desperate whimpers spilling from your lips every time his tongue pushed inside you. You couldn’t stop grinding down on his mouth, chasing every flick and thrust of his wicked tongue like the greedy little slut he was turning you into.
You didn’t even get a chance to catch your breath before Seonghwa let out a low, feral growl and flipped you both in one smooth motion. He dropped onto his back and dragged you up his body until your sweet, dripping pussy hovered right over his face. Strong hands gripped your hips and yanked you down hard, forcing you to sit fully on his mouth — your swollen, soaked folds pressed flush against his plump lips and eager tongue.
“Come on, princess, ride me.” He rasps, the low growl sinking straight into your aching core. “Use my face like you’ve been dreaming about. Make me your plaything.”
You don’t hesitate. Your fingers twist tight into his thick blond hair, and you roll your hips forward, dragging your slick, swollen folds over his waiting tongue in slow, filthy circles. The first broad, velvet stroke of his tongue drags from your dripping entrance all the way up to your pulsing clit, ripping a sharp, broken moan from your throat as your back arches hard.
He devours you messy, ravenous, utterly without shame. His tongue spears deep into your tight hole, fucking in and out with wet, obscene thrusts while the bridge of his nose grinds perfectly against your throbbing little bud. He sucks your plump, glistening lips into his hot mouth, tongue swirling and flicking without mercy, then pulls back just enough to lash quick, cruel strokes across your swollen clit until your thighs shake violently around his head.
“Fuck, Mr. Park...” You moan, grinding down harder, smearing your dripping arousal all over his chin, his flushed cheeks, and that pretty, ruined mouth. “You eat cunt so fucking good… I watched that video so many times and all I could think about was this. Your tongue buried inside me, licking me open, forcing me to leak down your throat. I touched myself every single night imagining exactly how you’d ruin me with your mouth… and it’s so much better. So much fucking better.” Your filthy praise pulls a loud, muffled groan from deep in his chest. He snarls against your soaked flesh and eats you even more viciously.
One hand slides up to roughly knead your breast, pinching and twisting your nipple until it throbs with heat. Sharp little smacks land on the soft underside of your tit, making it bounce and sting beautifully, while his other hand grips your ass hard and spreads you wide open for him. His tongue teases lower, circling the tight, untouched ring of muscle with wicked little flicks before plunging back into your greedy pussy with loud, sloppy, obscene sounds.
You ride his face without a shred of shame now — hips rolling and bucking, your slick cunt sliding messily over his tongue and lips, clit dragging across his nose with every filthy grind. Your fingers yank tighter in his hair, using it like reins as you fuck his mouth exactly the way you need. Seonghwa never slows. He only moans louder, lapping and sucking and swallowing every drop of your dripping nectar like it’s the most decadent thing he’s ever tasted, those dark, starving eyes locked upward on your face the entire time.
The pressure coils fast and brutal inside you.
“Seonghwa, fuck, I’m gonna cum on your tongue.” You let out a loud, unashamed moan, pulling Mr. Park by the hair and trembling all over. You felt as though you were on fire; all your senses were on edge; a sticky, tingling heat caressed your skin. Every movement of Hwa’s skilled tongue, gliding between your folds, plunged you deeper and deeper into the haze of pleasure. “You’re so good, daddy...so fucking perfect, eating my cunt like you were born to ruin it....ah....”
Seonghwa growls against your throbbing clit and sucks the swollen little pearl hard between his lips, flicking it with merciless, rapid strokes. That’s all it takes.
You shatter violently, squirting hard all over his gorgeous, godlike face. Hot, messy squirt floods his tongue and chin in pulsing waves, dripping in glossy rivulets down his neck as your hips jerk and grind through every brutal spasm. He moans like he’s the one falling apart, swallowing every sweet drop you feed him, tongue still lapping and working you through the orgasm until you’re trembling and whimpering helplessly above him.
But he’s nowhere near finished. With a wet, ragged gasp, Seonghwa shoves you off his mouth, flips you onto your back in one fluid motion, and crawls over you like a predator ready to devour. His blond hair is a soaked, tangled wreck, glistening with your slick; his lips are shiny, swollen, and obscene; his eyes are pure lust. He licks his lips slowly, staring down at your twitching, drenched slit as if he hadn’t yet satisfied his hunger.
“Fuck… look at you.” He breathes. He spits into his palm, wraps his hand around that big, throbbing cock, and strokes himself with slow, deliberate drags until every veined inch shines obscenely. Then he grabs your thighs, yanks you toward him, and folds you into a mating press—knees shoved back almost beside your ears, your soaked cunt completely exposed and lewdly open, offered up like a gift. “Gonna fuck you so deep like this, princess.” Seonghwa teases the fat, leaking head of his cock up and down your glistening folds, slapping it wetly against your clit twice before he lines himself up.“Gonna watch this greedy little hole take every inch while you’re bent in half for me.”
And with one slow, devastating thrust, he buries himself to the hilt inside you.
You’re folded completely beneath him, under his control, knees pressed almost to your head, and the first deep plunge knocks the breath straight from your lungs. Hwa sinks in with one smooth, merciless glide, stretching your fluttering walls so wide they clench and ripple around every thick inch. The wet, filthy squelch of your cunt swallowing him whole is downright obscene, and his heavy balls slap right against your swollen labia with a loud, lewd smack.
That’s when it hits you like lightning. This man is here for the long haul. There’s not a single hint of exhaustion in his body. His hips roll in a perfect, punishing rhythm—slow enough for you to feel every vein dragging along your sensitive inner walls, deep enough that the fat crown kisses your cervix on every stroke. His balls keep smacking against your labia, heavy and full, the skin already shining with your slick. Sweat traces down the sharp cuts of his abs, but his breathing stays steady, controlled, like he could fuck you for hours and and still won’t get enough.
Park Seonghwa is not a man with simple desires. And he proves it when he suddenly pulls out, hauls you clean off the bed with those long, elegant arms, and slams back inside while holding you suspended in mid-air.
Your back presses flush against his chest as he fucks you standing—fast, aggressive, hips snapping so hard your tits bounce wildly and your head falls back against his shoulder. The angle is lethal; his cock drags perfectly over that devastating spot inside you until your knees give out and your cunt explodes again. You squirt like a fountain, hot clear streams gushing down his thighs and splattering onto the floor while he just keeps pounding through it, growling filthy praise right against your ear.
Before you can even come down from the last shattering high, Seonghwa drags you off his cock, pulling out another weak squirt from your well-fucked pussy, and bends you over the edge of the bed, shoves your face into the mattress with a firm, unyielding hand between your shoulder blades.
Seonghwa positions you like a pro, just as he was. Years of working in the porn industry had honed his skills to perfection. Your plump, juicy butt arched high and offered to him for a new angle for penetration.
The break is barely noticeable, because Hwa drives back inside you with short, punishing thrusts that make your plump cheeks ripple and jiggle with every brutal impact. The loud, wet smack of his hips against your ass fills the room, his heavy, cum-slick balls slapping rhythmically against your swollen clit on every stroke.
A thick, creamy white ring already circles the base of his cock, proof of just how sloppy and ruined your greedy little hole has become. He’s already dragged you through orgasm after orgasm, pulling two violent squirts from you, and he still shows no sign of slowing.
Sex will never be the same for you again.
Because Seonghwa fucks like a goddamn expert who’s studied every way to break a woman apart. Every thrust is precise, every roll of his hips timed perfectly to wreck you completely. And you’re fucking loving every second of your own destruction.
He keeps you pinned there for a few more delicious, mind-melting minutes, pounding you into the mattress with relentless power—one hand fisted tight in your hair, the other gripping your hip so hard you know his fingerprints will bloom like filthy little reminders of the forbidden on your skin tomorrow. Then, without missing a single savage stroke, he yanks you upright, spins you around, and drops back onto the bed himself, cock still hard and gleaming with your slick.
“Come on, angel.” He growls, voice wrecked and dripping with raw, filthy hunger as he pulls you on top of him. “Cum for me again. I want to watch you gush all over me. Stretch that needy little cunt on my cock… ride me like you own every inch.” His hands lock around your waist, guiding you down until the fat, leaking head of his cock nudges your soaked entrance, waiting for you to sink onto him while those dark, predatory eyes devour every flicker of pleasure across your face.
You slide down onto Seonghwa’s thick cock in one greedy, eager plunge, taking every veined inch until he’s buried to the hilt inside your fluttering pussy.
Then you start to ride on him - hard and fast, hips snapping with desperate, sinful rolls that make your ass bounce and slap against his thighs. The wet, obscene smack of skin on skin echoes through the room, your creamy arousal coating his shaft and dripping in glossy rivulets down his heavy balls with every rise and fall.
“Fuck...I love it.” You gasp, voice fracturing. “You fuck me so fucking good, Hwa… so deep, so perfect. You’re completely ruining me like this.”
Seonghwa laughs, low and dark and delighted, that pretty mouth curling into a wicked smirk even as his gaze stays locked on the way your cunt stretches obscenely around his girth. His palm cracks down hard on your ass, the sharp smack blooming hot and stinging across your skin.
“Watch that filthy mouth, princess.” Hwa growls, voice rough with lust. “Or I’ll shut it up with my dick instead.”
“Yes, please, give me that dick in my mouth, Daddy. I want it.” You moan like you’ve been starving for him to say the words, thighs trembling as you ride him even faster.
The filthy promise sends you spiraling. Your cunt clamps down around him like a vice and you cum hard—squirting in violent, hot pulses that soak his abs, his thighs, and the sheets beneath him. Your whole body shakes uncontrollably, pleasure crashing through you so intense your vision whites out. You lean forward and sink your teeth into the smooth skin of his shoulder, biting down hard enough to leave dark, claiming marks.
Seonghwa doesn’t even flinch. He groans deep in his chest, hips still rolling up to meet every frantic grind of yours, fucking you through the orgasm like it’s nothing.
“One more, angel.” Seonghwa rasps hot against your ear, voice wrecked and dripping with wicked promise. “One more and I swear I’ll give you a break.” That’s not entirely true, though.
You want to sob, actually break down and cry like the greedy little whore he’s turned you into, because you already know the brutal truth: no one else will ever fuck you like this again. Sex with anyone after Park Seonghwa will be ruined forever.
He drops you into it first, then kneels before you. With a rough grip on your thighs he throws your legs over the armrests, spreading you impossibly wide—your soaked, swollen slit on full display, glistening and completely exposed for him. It’s filthy. It’s new. And you fucking love how vulnerable it makes you feel.
Seonghwa’s thumbs glide over your slick, puffy folds, massaging the sensitive flesh in slow, firm circles before spreading them apart so nothing is hidden. He leans in and drags his tongue up your dripping seam in one long, hungry lick, then again, and again, devouring every drop of your mixed cum.
He mooed with satisfaction when a thick drop of your mucus dripped from your little hole straight onto his tongue, and only then Hwa pulled away, only to line himself up and push back inside you.
This time it’s different - slow, sensual, devastatingly intimate. His thick cock slides in inch by torturous inch until he’s buried to the hilt, stretching your walls open all over again. Seonghwa's body moves like liquid sin: rolling, fluid, powerful hips rising in perfect, languid strokes that drag the fat crown along every sensitive ridge inside you. It’s exactly like that first video you found. The same hypnotic rhythm, the same filthy grace.
You’ve never seen a man more devastatingly beautiful than Park Seonghwa in this moment. Sweat gleams across his chest, blond hair plastered to his forehead, lips parted and swollen as he stares straight into your eyes with pure, dark hunger.
He keeps that slow, rolling pace, fucking you like he has all night, one hand still holding your cunt spread wide while the other lifts to his mouth. He looks you dead in the eyes as he slowly, sloppily licks his thumb—long, wet drags of his tongue, making it shine with spit, sucking it between his plump lips like the filthiest vow.
You already know exactly what he’s about to do.
He keeps that sensual rhythm inside your throbbing pussy, hips moving like molten heat, cock stroking every inch of your walls. Then his spit-slick thumb presses against your tight little asshole and sinks in—slow, deliberate, stretching you open while he continues to fuck your pussy at the same time.
The dual fullness makes your eyes roll back; you feel so completely stuffed, so utterly claimed, and he strokes that thick thumb in perfect sync with his cock, curling it just right, turning you into a whimpering, leaking wreck.
His breathing grows ragged against your skin as he gets more and more desperate. His mouth latches onto one of your nipples, sucking hard, tongue swirling and flicking the stiff peak while his teeth graze just enough to make you jolt. Seonghwa’s claiming both your holes now—deep, sensual thrusts into your cunt, steady strokes of that thumb in your ass—and the wet, filthy symphony of it fills the room: the slick glide of his cock, the obscene squelch of his thumb, your broken moans tangling with his low groans.
You cum together. Your orgasm slams into you like a tidal wave. Your cunt clamps down around his cock like a vice, squirting so hard and so violently that clear, hot streams gush out around his shaft, soaking his abs, his thighs, and the chair beneath you. Black spots explode across your vision; the pleasure is so overwhelming you almost black out, body shaking uncontrollably, thighs quivering over the armrests. All you can feel is him—shot after thick, heavy shot of warm cum flooding deep into your pussy, pulse after pulse as he fills you to the brim and beyond. Seonghwa moans loud and broken against your chest, hips stuttering up into you as he empties himself completely, pumping you full until you’re overflowing and dripping down his balls.
He doesn’t pull away. Still buried to the hilt, still thumb-deep in your ass, he blindly seeks your mouth and crashes into a disgustingly wet kiss—tongues sliding sloppy and desperate, spit dripping down your chins while you both ride out the endless aftershocks.
You stay tangled like that for several long, hazy minutes, panting into each other’s mouths, bodies slick and shining with sweat and cum. Then Seonghwa finally eases his spent cock from your wrecked cunt and slips his thumb free. Immediately a thick, creamy river of his release spills out of you — pearly white and obscene, dripping in heavy, glossy strands onto the chair and floor below. Neither of you cares. You’re both too blissed-out, too thoroughly used to bother with anything except the raw, sticky afterglow.
He stands up slowly, legs still steady despite everything he’s done to you, and you get the perfect, mouth-watering view of his gorgeous body as he crosses to the dresser. Broad shoulders tapering into a slutty, sculpted waist, the elegant line of his spine, and — fuck — that firm, perfect ass flexing with every step. Your mouth waters even though your body is screaming that it’s already been spoiled and utterly ruined.
Seonghwa plucks a cigarette from the pack on the dresser, lights it with a soft click of the lighter, then drops back onto the bed, spreading his long limbs out like a satisfied king on his throne. His cock lies thick and heavy against his thigh, still semi-hard, glistening with the messy evidence of how hard you both came. Fresh saliva floods your mouth at the sight.
Somehow you manage to push yourself up from the chair, legs shaky and aching, his warm cum still leaking in slow, sinful trails down your inner thighs. You crawl onto the bed on trembling hands and knees, collapsing beside him with a soft, wrecked little sigh.
“I didn’t know you smoked, Mr. Park.” You rasp, voice hoarse from screaming his name, but there’s a playful little lilt on the title that makes his lips twitch.
Seonghwa takes a slow drag, smoke curling lazily from those plump, seductive lips, and gives you a heavy, siren-eyed look — dark and hooded, promising every filthy thing he still wants to do to you.
“You don’t know a lot about me, angel.” He exhales slowly, watching the way your gaze follows the smoke. “Only the parts where the cunt was good… and yours?” His smirk deepens, dark and satisfied. “Yours is fucking divine.”
You giggle softly, the sound low and breathless, as you crawl closer across the rumpled sheets. Your body feels heavy, limbs loose and deliciously sore, but you can’t resist the pull of him. Seonghwa looks so sinfully beautiful lounging there — naked, skin gleaming with sweat and the faint sheen of your combined release, that thick, heavy length resting against his thigh like it’s already plotting round two.
The cozy, single-father mask is completely shattered. All that’s left is the depraved porn star underneath: blond hair a wrecked mess, lips swollen, dark siren eyes half-lidded with satisfaction and lingering hunger.
“How are you still this hard after all that?” You murmur. “You fucking destroyed me. My whole body aches…"
Seonghwa’s lips curve into a slow, amused smirk. He takes another lazy drag, smoke curling past those plush lips as he exhales with a soft chuckle that vibrates through his chest.
“Angel.” The voice sticks to your skin like a kiss of love, so honeyed and sweet. “I can fuck for hours. I did porn, you know?”
The words hang in the air, filthy and casual, and you both laugh — soft, lazy, the kind of laughter that feels like another slow kind of foreplay.
You trade a few more teasing, heated phrases, the conversation drifting easy and dirty between you. He mocks you for how loud you screamed when you squirted all over him; you call him a cocky bastard for lasting that long; he counters that your greedy little hole is addictive enough to keep him throbbing all night. Every word drips with heat, smoke, and the sticky sweetness of spent pleasure.
He takes another drag, lips parting slow and deliberate as he releases the smoke toward the ceiling. The way his throat works, the faint glow of the cigarette tracing the sharp line of his jaw — it hits you all over again. Fresh heat coils low in your belly, your ruined cunt giving a weak, interested flutter even though your thighs are still trembling.
“I want your dick in my mouth.” You whine, the words slipping out soft and sleepy, almost cute in how needy they sound. Your eyes are heavy, lashes fluttering, but your gaze stays locked on the thick length resting against his thigh.
Seonghwa’s eyes darken instantly. He stubs the cigarette out in the ashtray with a quiet click, then climbs onto the bed properly, the mattress dipping under his weight. Strong arms wrap around you, pulling you flush against his warm, solid chest. One hand strokes down your spine, gentle now, while the other cups the back of your head, fingers threading through your hair.
“How can I refuse you when you ask so sweetly, angel, hmm?” He murmurs against your temple, voice a low rumble that makes you shiver. “But you look so tired, baby… you can hardly keep your eyes open. Rest. I’ll be right here.”
He tucks you closer, lips brushing your hair, and for a moment it feels almost tender — until he leans in, mouth right against your ear, breath hot and wicked.
“And anyway, I like morning blowjobs better.” The promise lingers in the air between you, dark and delicious, sending one last shiver down your spine even as exhaustion pulls you under.
Seonghwa presses a soft kiss to your forehead, then another to your swollen lips, holding you securely against him as your breathing evens out.
The last thing you feel before sleep claims you is the steady beat of his heart against your cheek and the warm, possessive weight of his hand resting on your hip, fingers tracing lazy circles over your skin.
Tomorrow morning is going to be dangerous.
But right now, wrapped in Seonghwa’s arms, leaking his cum and aching in the sweetest way, you can’t bring yourself to care.
You drift off with a tiny, satisfied smile on your lips, already dreaming of waking up to that velvet voice and that thick cock waiting for your mouth.
♡ 𝔓𝔞𝔦𝔯𝔦𝔫𝔤: Former porn star Dilf Seonghwa х reader
♡ 𝔖𝔲𝔪𝔪𝔞𝔯𝔶: Bonus Chapter for Daddy Knows Best
We've all had a crush on our best friend's father, and you were no exception. It was pretty innocent at first, but your feelings for Mr. Park became sharper and way more dirtier. You tried to fight them and act like a good girl. but to your shame, you did a terrible job. It could go on like this for a long time if, one desperate night, you hadn't accidentally discovered that so sweet and perfect Mr. Park used to be a premium porn star.
♡ 𝔊𝔢𝔫𝔯𝔢 / 𝔄𝔲 / 𝔗𝔯𝔬𝔭𝔢: Smut, Pornstar!AU, University!AU, Reader x Best friend's dad, Forbidden Romance
♡ ℜ𝔞𝔱𝔦𝔫𝔤: 18+ / 21+ / MDNI
♡ 𝔚𝔬𝔯𝔡 𝔠𝔬𝔲𝔫𝔱: 2.8k
♡ 𝔚𝔞𝔯𝔫𝔦𝔫𝔤𝔰: dom!Dilf Seonghwa, sub!reader, age difference, rapturous consent, sex work, unprotected sex, daddy kink, lots of sperm, deepthroating, fingering, degrading, pet names, face fucking, spit kink, lots of sperm/saliva, dirty talk, oral, praise kink, squirt, pussy slapping, oral fixation, cock worship, overstimulation, multiple orgasms, hand job, сreampie, rough sex, rough oral, power play, anal play, masturbation, wet and dirty, explicit sexual content, explicit language, and more.
♡ net: @cultofdionysusnet @k-vanity
♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔲𝔫𝔫𝔦𝔢𝔰 𝔗𝔞𝔤 𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 at the end of the post.
♡ ℌ𝔬𝔩𝔶 𝔅𝔦𝔟𝔩𝔶 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - check for more
♡ 𝔖𝔢𝔬𝔫𝔤𝔥𝔴𝔞 𝔐𝔞𝔰𝔱𝔢𝔯𝔩𝔦𝔰𝔱 - Seonghwa’s personal temple
𝕮𝖔𝖒𝖒𝖊𝖓𝖙𝖘 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖗𝖊𝖇𝖑𝖔𝖌𝖘 𝖆𝖗𝖊 𝖜𝖊𝖑𝖈𝖔𝖒𝖊𝖉 - Your love makes all this possible
You woke slowly as the first soft gold of morning light spilled across the guest bedroom like warm honey.
Your whole body felt deliciously wrecked — thighs deliciously sore, throat slightly scratchy from all the moaning and screaming, and your tender little cunt still leaking the thick remnants of Seonghwa’s release from last night. The sweet, sticky ache between your legs only made you smile, lazy and utterly satisfied, like a well-fucked little kitten who’d finally gotten her cream, as you turned your head on the pillow.
He’s still asleep beside you.
Seonghwa looks like pure sin bathed in that soft morning glow: fallen angel carved from marble and filthy temptation. Blond hair tousled across the pillow, plump lips parted on quiet breaths, long lashes casting faint shadows on his sharp cheekbones. The silk sheet has slipped low on his hips, exposing the carved lines of his abs, the deep V that disappears beneath the fabric, and…his cock. Even soft it’s thick and heavy, resting against his thigh like a decadent promise, smooth skin sweet flushed a faint pink, the head slightly glossy from the messy evidence of how thoroughly you two ruined each other last night.
Mr. Park… Seonghwa… The man you had been fantasizing about for months was now lying right beside you, completely at your disposal, looking like the most delicious, fuckable treat you’d ever seen.
You remember his whispered words against your ear before sleep claimed you: “And anyway… I like morning blowjobs better.”
A fresh wave of molten heat floods your belly. You’re not just willing, you’re ravenous, almost desperate, as you carefully push yourself up on one elbow. Your mouth is already watering at the sight of him, at the memory of how that same thick, veined length stretched your cunt open and claimed you for hours.
And now, you can finally get a taste of it. You’ve imagined this exact moment a thousand times: waking him with your soft lips, your greedy tongue, your hot throat, showing him exactly how badly you need to worship every inch of that gorgeous cock.
You slide down the bed slowly, silently, careful not to wake him yet. The silk sheet pools at his ankles as you settle between his spread, muscular thighs, knees sinking deep into the mattress. Up close he’s even more devastating, smooth golden skin glowing in the morning light, the faint, heady scent of last night’s sex and smoke still clinging to him, those heavy, full balls relaxed and tempting against the sheets.
Your delicate fingers trace lightly up his inner thighs, then cradle his soft cock in both hands, feeling its warmth, its weight, the way it twitches instantly at your touch. You lean in and press a slow, open-mouthed kiss to the base, then drag your tongue up the underside in one long, wet stripe, savoring the faint salty tang of last night’s cum. A soft, sleepy sound escapes Seonghwa's throat, but his eyes stay closed.
You smile against his warm, honey skin.
You take your time, exactly like you’ve fantasized for months. You lick him everywhere, slow and sensual, coating every inch with spit until his cock begins to thicken and harden under your eager tongue. You suckle gently at the fat, rounded head, lips wrapping around it like a filthy kiss, tongue swirling lazy circles around the sensitive slit while your hand strokes the base with smooth, twisting pulls. When he’s half-hard and glistening, you take him deeper into the damp, welcoming warmth, your mouth sliding down, cheeks hollowing, throat relaxing as you swallow more and more of him until your nose brushes his base.
You moan around his thick shaft, the vibration making it twitch against your tongue.
Seonghwa’s breathing shifts - deeper, rougher, each exhale ragged with building need. His hips give a tiny, unconscious roll, feeding more of that thick length into the wet heat of your obliging mouth. You feel him swelling fast, hardening to velvety steel on your tongue, the heavy vein pulsing wildly as you bob your head in slow, luxurious strokes.
Thick strings of spit drip messily down your chin, slick and obscene, coating his heavy balls as you take him deep to the back of your throat again and again, swallowing greedily around the swollen crown like you’re trying to milk every last drop of pleasure from him before he’s even fully awake.
His elegant hand finally finds your hair, long, graceful fingers sliding in dishevelled locks lazily, not guiding yet, just anchoring himself as a low, wrecked groan rumbles from deep in his chest.
You look up through your lashes and meet his dark, sleepy eyes just as you sink all the way down again, nose pressed flush to his pelvis, throat fluttering desperately around him.
Seonghwa’s swollen lips part on a husky, half-asleep curse.
“Fuck… angel…” His voice came out gravel-rough with sleep and raw lust, the low timbre vibrating straight down to your core. The pornographic sound makes you suck harder, wetter, more desperate, because you’ve waited months for this exact moment, and you’re determined to give him the filthiest, most perfect morning blowjob of his life.
You keep your eyes locked on his as you pull off his throbbing cock with a wet pop, glossy strings of spit stretching obscenely between your swollen lips and the flushed, leaking head. It looks like pure sin—glistening, candy-sweet, begging to be devoured. You could suck him off forever.
“I’ve wanted this for so long, Mr. Park.” You whisper, voice hoarse and dripping with raw honesty, tender lips brushing the sensitive slit so he feels every filthy word against his skin. “Months of watching your videos, touching myself in the dark, fantasizing about exactly how you’d taste… how you’d sound when I woke you up like this. You’re fully wrecked me last night, and I still can’t get enough of you.”
You dive back down, taking the fat head between your lips and sucking hard, tongue swirling slow and filthy around it like you’re trying to coax every bead of pre-cum straight from his soul. Your hand cups his heavy, swollen balls, rolling them gently, feeling how full and tight they still are even after last night. You tug lightly, massage them with your palm, then dip lower to drag your tongue across the sensitive skin, sucking one into your mouth with a wet pop before doing the same to the other. The salty, musky flavor of him makes you moan around them, the vibration shooting straight up his velvety, warm length.
“Naughty little angel, you’re perfect.” Seonghwa’s hips jerk, a deep groan tearing from his chest. His hips jerked upward, pushing more of his thick cock between your lips. “Sucking it so nice and sloppy for me… yeah, just like that. Make it messy, baby. I want your spit dripping down my balls while you choke on every inch.”
"Mmmm... yes...' You hum muffledly in response to this.
Your free hand slides up the carved ridges of his abs, nails scratching lightly at first, then harder—angry red lines blooming across the taut muscle as you rake them downward toward his pelvis. You feel every ridge flex and twitch under your fingertips while your mouth returns to the swollen head, sucking it like the sweetest, filthiest treat, cheeks hollowed tight, tongue flicking rapid, cruel strokes along the sensitive underside. Thick rivulets of spit drip messily down his shaft, coating your fingers as you stroke every inch you can’t swallow.
“I love how you throb against my tongue… so warm, so thick, so fucking meaty.” You gasp between messy, eager bobs, your voice completely wrecked and breathless. “Just like I imagined… my own sweet, dripping lollipop. I could suck on you for hours.”
Seonghwa thrusts his heavy length into your mouth once more, deeper this time, slamming the fat crown straight into the back of your throat. You gag beautifully around him, the slippery, pulsing walls of your throat clenching tight around that massive, silky shaft, squeezing every sensitive, throbbing vein as it stretch seductively along its massive, silky length. The wet, choked sound only makes you wetter.
You pull back just enough to steal a ragged breath, spit slicking your chin in glossy strings.
“I’ve dreamed about waking you up like this every single morning since that first video.” You purr, lips brushing the leaking tip. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you’re asleep, fallen angel with a devil’s cock, and now it’s all mine to worship.”You sink all the way down again, nose pressed flush to his pelvis, throat fluttering greedily around every thick inch as you hold yourself there, nails digging deeper into the flexing ridges of his abs.
Seonghwa’s hand tightens in your hair, not guiding, just gripping hard while his stomach muscles twitch and tense beneath your scratches.
"Fuck, angel, I'm going to come. I'm going to make you drunk with my sperm, baby angel." Seonghwa growls deeply. The husky, rough sound of his voice sends tingles across your skin and makes your sweet little hole quiver. Your swollen clit pulsates with the desire to be caressed, preferably by Hwa's long, skilful tongue.
You pull back just enough to keep the fat head resting on your tongue, sucking hard and fast, hand pumping the slick, veined shaft while the other keeps rolling and tugging his swollen balls. Your nails rake down his stomach one final time and that’s it, he shatters.
Seonghwa cum with a guttural, broken moan, thick ropes of warm release painting your face in messy, glistening stripes across your cheeks, your lips, your tongue. You keep your mouth wide open, tongue out, eyes watering but locked on his as he milks the last heavy spurts. He slaps the spent, heavy head of his cock against your tongue—wet, filthy little taps—shaking off the final drops while you lap at them greedily, swallowing what lands in your mouth and letting the rest drip in slow, obscene trails down your chin and throat.
He’s panting, chest heaving, eyes dark and blissed-out as he stares down at the ruined, cum-streaked mess he’s made of your pretty face. You sit back on your heels, licking your lips, tasting him everywhere, and smile like the satisfied little whore you are.
But reality creeps in too quickly. As much as you want to crawl back up his body, let him spoil you all day, maybe ride his face again, let him fuck you slow and lazy until the sun sets, you know you can’t. The girls will wake up any minute. Misol’s birthday slumber party can’t turn into an obvious walk of shame.
You press one last lingering kiss to the head of his cock, then climb off the bed on shaky legs.
“I have to go back before they wake up,” You whispered, already reaching for Seonghwa’s pajama top on the floor, trying to make yourself look at least halfway decent. Your voice was soft, almost reluctant. “As much as I want to stay here and let you ruin me again… I can’t.”
Seonghwa watches you with that lazy, fucked smile, but when you reach the door he’s suddenly there, fast and silent. He catches you by the wrist, spins you around, and pins you against the wall with his body. One hand braces beside your head, the other cups your cum-streaked jaw as he kisses you hot and filthy—tongue shoving deep, tasting himself on you, licking into your mouth like he’s claiming every inch all over again.
“I’m going to think about you all day, angel.” Hwa purrs against your lips. “About your perfect little cunt squeezing me… your greedy mouth swallowing my cock… and every filthy thing we did.” He kisses you once more, slower this time, deep and deliberate like a wicked promise, then lets you slip out the door.
Later, when you and the girls finally stumble downstairs, Seonghwa is already in the kitchen.
Mr. Park moves like he was born for the role of the perfect, caring single dad: soft gray cardigan hanging open over a simple white tee that clings just enough to the sculpted lines of his chest, sleeves rolled up to his elbows to reveal those strong, veined forearms. His blond hair is neatly brushed back, a few stray strands falling artfully over his forehead, and there’s a faint, innocent flush on his sharp cheekbones that could almost pass for morning light.
The kitchen smells like heaven, pancakes sizzling golden on the griddle, fresh fruit sliced and arranged like jewels on plates, freshly squeezed juice poured into delicate glasses, and the low, comforting hum of the coffee maker. He’s flipping pancakes with effortless grace, humming softly under his breath, the very picture of domestic warmth and shy charm.
Misol padded over to her father, wrapped her arms around his waist in a loose morning hug, and pressed a soft kiss to his cheek.
“Morning, Daddy, you look way too handsome this morning.You literally glow.” She teased warmly, nuzzling against his shoulder. “And that cardigan is seriously unfair, it's looks dangerously attractive on you. The girls won’t be able to resist ~ ”
“Yes, Mr. Park, Misol is right, you’re really glowing today. Did you sleep well or something?” One of the other girls giggles, sliding onto a stool.
“You were dreaming about something nice, huh? It looks like you’re blushing already.” Another chimes in, voice teasing and light.
Seonghwa freezes for half a second, spatula hovering over the pan. Then the shy, boyish smile you’ve seen a thousand times slips perfectly into place. His cheeks flush a deeper pink, and he ducks his head, rubbing the back of his neck with that same awkward little shiver that always makes the girls coo.
“Ah, stop it, you girls.” He murmurs, voice soft and embarrassed, waving the compliments away like they’re too much. “It’s just the morning light. And the pancakes. I didn’t sleep that great, actually too much champagne, I think.” He laughs quietly, the sound polite and self-deprecating, shoulders giving another little awkward shiver as he turns back to the stove, flipping another pancake with careful precision.
But when his eyes flick up from the pan and find yours across the counter, everything changes.
The shy single-dad mask stays perfectly in place for the rest of the room. For everyone else, he’s still the sweet, blushing Mr. Park who bought silk pajamas, poured pink champagne, and made sure every guest felt special.
For you? The look he gives you is pure, unfiltered depravity—the kind only a man who’s spent years behind a camera, fucking like a professional, could ever pull off. His dark, seductive siren eyes drag over you slowly, deliberately, lingering on the way your tiny silk top clings to your tits, the faint bite mark he left on your collarbone still peeking from beneath the lace edge, the way your thighs press together under the counter because you can still feel the thick ghost of his cock stretching you open and the warm, sticky mess of his cum slowly leaking from your ruined hole.
There’s wild hunger in that gaze. Dark, filthy lust that already replaying every second of last night in his head: the way you squirted all over his tongue and chin, the way your throat fluttered around his cock this morning, the way you moaned “Daddy” while he fucked both your holes at once. It’s a silent vow that the second the girls aren’t looking, he’s going to drag you into the nearest empty room, pin you against the wall, and ruin you all over again, harder, dirtier, until you’re crying his name and creaming all over his cock like the needy little slut he knows you are.
You squeeze your thighs together tighter under the counter, a fresh rush of heat flooding between your legs, and bite your lip hard to keep from letting out a sound.
Seonghwa’s lips twitch, just the tiniest, wicked curl that only you can see, before he turns back to the pancakes with that same soft, innocent smile.
“Breakfast is almost ready, girls.” He says cheerfully to the room, like nothing filthy just passed between you.
But both of you knew the truth: it would never be the same again.
That invisible line of decency had been erased forever, and this was only the beginning of something dangerously sweet, the kind of addictive, all-consuming pleasure neither of you would ever be able to walk away from.
areudirty
tangentwithtanner
amandla
theartofmadeline
izzy806
kianamaiart
