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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

you like him, you really do.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why didn’t she stay for dinner?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did she now?”

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

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

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

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

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

“you should invite her more often then.”

“really?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“did i wake you up, sweetheart?”

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

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

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

no door squeaked; you heard absolutely nothing.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“like what?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“hm? i didn’t say anything.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“i don’t–”

“don’t lie to me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“why? you gonna do something about it?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“come here.” 

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

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

those damned grey pants again.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“fuck… yunho its to—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“breathe. you’re tightening up.”

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

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

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

you start to cry.

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

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

“it’s… it’s too—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“my pretty girl… finally giving in.”

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

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

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

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

“y–yes… please…”

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

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

“say it.”

“yunho– p-please… don’t stop—”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yun– i’m.. please, i–”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yunho… i— i don’t know how to feel.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

and that’s how it begins. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

“yeah… i think so.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It was maybe a quarter after midnight, the moon shining brightly in the cloudless sky as you sat in the passenger seat of Seonghwa's car. The air around the two of you was foggy and filled with wisps of smoke as you shared a blunt you had just rolled. 

It didn't take too long before the effects of the weed started to take effect, your whole body feeling light and your head far more clear than it normally was. 

“So you think you passed that test?” You breathed out slowly, letting the smoke cascade from your lips. Your eyes were half-lidded as you looked down at the half-smoked blunt that sat between your middle and forefinger. 

Seonghwa chuckled deeply as he reached over the center console to pull the blunt from your fingers. "The chem test? Yeah, I don't think anyone is going to pass that one.”

He wasn't wrong; this semester's chemistry teacher was a total dictator. You were sure that she gave the class that test just for her own entertainment because none of what was written on that paper was anything you had gone over. Hell, some of it wasn't even in the damn textbook.

“Yeah, you're probably right.” You hummed softly to the soft music playing through the car speakers, completely unaware of the fact that the dark-haired male was staring at you. 

Your face was illuminated by the purple lights from the led strips he had installed a few weeks back, and damn is he glad he did so. The purple, whispy air around you left you looking enchanting and out of this world. Your plump lips wrapped around the blunt once more, and the action alone left a burning warmth swarming through his body. He shifted in his seat as his pants started to grow tighter.

Noticing his gaze, you couldn't help but giggle internally, a mischievous gleam in your eyes. Pulling the blunt from your lips you leaned over the console, your chest merely inches away from his arm that he had propped on top.

“Hey Hwa,” you called out to the male, catching his attention. However, his breath caught in his throat when he realized how close you were.

Swallowing thickly, he tried his best to keep eyes away from your parted lips. “What's up?”

“I wanna try something.” Your voice was low as you reached forward, tracing your finger down his throat, a smirk forming on your lips when you felt him swallow. His eyes locked with your hooded ones before nodding slowly, completely unaware of what he was getting himself into. “Move your seat back.”

Seonghwa did as told, and as soon as the seat was far enough back, you climbed over the center console, careful not to drop the blunt or burn Seonghwa. His breath hitched as you settled down in his lap, your thighs on either side of his hips.

“What are you–”

“Shhh…” You pressed your finger against his lips, followed by a small giggle. "Don’t be so uptight; I don’t bite,” you cooed, moving closer to his face until he was merely inches away. "Unless you want me to.” 

Seonghwa swallowed thickly again, his hands finding a spot on your bare thighs. When did you become so bold when smoking? Not that he was gonna complain besides the fact that with every movement of your hips, you brushed against his half-hard dick.

“Have you ever shotgunned before?” You asked him, shifting your hips a bit but quickly bit back a moan when you felt his bulge against your clothed core.

“Yeah…” Seonghwa nodded, watching you intently as you brought the blunt back to your lips, getting the idea of what you were wanting to do. His hands rubbed up your thighs as he shifted a bit as you reached for his face.

Your eyes fluttered together as you held the smoke in your lungs, moving closer to the dark-haired male. He watched you through half-lidded eyes as you exhaled the smoke into his mouth, inhaling it until your lips were on his. His body filled with warmth as he got a taste of your lips, but they were gone just as soon as they were there, making him groan.

“Fuckkk.” His head fell back against his car seat, leaving you to watch his eyes flutter close. It was the hottest thing you’ve seen, and the heat that pooled in your lower gut was almost too much to bear, and you unintentionally rolled your hips against his. “Shit, don’t do that.” He hissed through gritted teeth, his hands gripping onto your hips.

“S-Sorry.” You stumbled over your words as his heated gaze fell on you, almost as if he were devouring you with just his eyes. 

Seeing the pout on your plump lips, Seonghwa could feel all of his sanity fly out the window. “Fuck it.” He growled before taking the blunt from your hand and putting it out in the ashtray that sat in his cup holder.

Then, in the next moment, his lips were on yours; the kiss was full of lust and need as he leaned against you. He pulled your hips flush against his, making sure you felt everything, swallowing all of the sweet noises that you made.

“Hwa.” You whined, head spinning as his lips left yours to find your neck. Your body felt like it was on fire, and with every roll of your hips against his, it felt like you were going to combust. 

You blamed it on the weed for why you were so sensitive, but god, did it feel amazing. Seonghwa’s teeth grazed over your jugular, making you shiver, eyes fluttering for a second. He released his grip on your hips, but much to his amusement, you continued to rock against him.

“Does that feel good bunny?” He cooed against your ear and all you could do was whimper, chasing your high that was on the horizon. “Just wait until I stuff you full.” 

His words made your head spin, your hips falter, and stars start to litter your vision. Seeing your reaction, he couldn’t help but chuckle, his hands going back to your hips. Just before you tipped over the edge, he halted your movements, causing you to whine loudly.

“Why?” You cried but were quickly silenced when his lips found yours again; he kissed you with so much fever that it was almost impossible to keep up with him.

He moved his hand down your thigh, dragging his finger across your skin, leaving a trail of goosebumps in his wake. Your breath hitched in your throat when he pressed against your clothed cunt, easily finding your clit.

“Were you planning for this baby? Wearing such a pretty skirt and my hoodie?” He teased you, gently rubbing your clit, eliciting a breathy moan from your swollen lips. The purple lights were reflecting off of the thin sheen of sweat on your skin, making you glow as your head fell back.

“I need you, Hwa.” You whined, your hands balled into fists around his shirt, and the male just smirked at you, loving how easy he got you to fold for him.

He then hooked his finger around the hem of your panties, pulling them to the side before running his finger through your slick folds. His eyes nearly rolled back at the feeling of how soaked you were, drenching his digits in seconds.

“Fuck bunny, you’re soaking wet.” He groaned, and you moaned right in his ear as your body slumped forward. “Sensitive, aren’t you, love?” Your hips bucked against his hand when he dipped a finger into your tight hole.

“Hwa– shit, please.” You begged, tears pricking at the corner of your eyes, the need becoming almost unbearable.

Chuckling, he watched your face contort as he curled his finger in your wet heat, relishing in the way your walls clenched around him. All of the little sounds that you made were like music to his ears, you didn’t care about your volume, and fuck did it turn him on even more.

“Please, what bunny? I wanna hear you say it.” He smirked, pressing a chaste kiss against your temple as your jaw went slack after he brushed over your sweet spot. He wanted to play with you until you were begging, but the way his dick was straining against his sweats, begging to be released, told him otherwise.

“Fuck!” You cried out, face buried in his neck, and his scent was dizzying, and you could have sworn that you could cum from the scent alone.

Seonghwa gritted his teeth when he didn’t get an answer from you, so he reached up, running his fingers through your hair before grabbing a handful and tugging your face out of his neck. A strangled cry fell from your lips as you looked at him, tears dripping from your eyelashes. The fucked out look on your pretty face made his dick twitch, a smirk tugging on the corner of his lips.

“You gotta tell me what you want, baby, or you won’t get anything.” He told you, and you whined, your body feeling like it was on fire, and the way his fingers brushed against your velvet walls made your thighs quiver.

Not getting any response from you, he let out a faux disappointed sigh, removing his fingers from your needy cunt. You whined loudly at the sudden emptiness, eyes pleading with him, but he wasn’t going to give in that easily. So you swallowed thickly before pressing your hips down on his as much as you could with his hand still holding your head.

“I want your cock Hwa, please. I need it so bad.” You begged, teary eyes pleading with him and Seonghwa felt like his pants got even tighter at the sight of the tears that dripped down your flushed cheeks.

He released your hair, letting your body relax before leaning back in his seat, eyes staring you down. “See, it wasn’t that hard, bunny; go ahead.” He motioned down to his pants. You were quick to raise your hips to wrap your fingers around the waistband of his sweats.

Pulling them down just far enough for his cock to spring free, causing you to gasp as it slapped against his abdomen. It was by far the prettiest cock that you had ever seen, the flush tip a pretty shade of pink, beads of translucent precum adorning the slit. Your mouth watered as you wrapped your fingers around the base, jerking him off.

“Fuck.” He hissed, hips bucking up at your touch, his body felt like it was on fire, and your slow movements along his swollen cock only made it worse, “shit, don’t tease, sweetheart.” His tone held a warning and you glanced up at him, your walls clenching around nothing as his hungry eyes stared down at you.

Jerking him off a few more times, you rose to your knees before reaching down to move your panties to the side, far too impatient to take them off. A loud mewl fell from your lips when you lined his tip with your entrance, the feeling already addicting.

Seonghwa watched you with a clenched jaw as you slowly sunk yourself down on his length, watching as your eyes rolled back when you fully bottomed out. The way your walls were squeezing around him made his brain melt, his hands landing on your thighs as you wasted no time grinding against him.

“Fuck you’re so tight, baby.” He groaned, head falling back as your pace picked up until you were bouncing on his cock.

“‘S so good, Hwa!” You cried out, hands clutching onto his shoulders for support. The feeling of his dick dragging against your walls made your mind turn to putty.

“Yeah?” Seonghwa chuckled before being cut off by a groan as you clenched around him, “You look so pretty bouncing on my dick bunny.” He leaned forward, latching his lips onto your neck, sucking and nipping at the skin until you were trembling in his hold, “so fucking pretty.”

“Hwa!” You screamed his name when he grabbed your hips and shifted you until your clit would brush against his pelvis bone every time you bottomed out.

“Shit, I’m not gonna last much longer.” He groaned, burying his face in your neck; his hold on you was almost bruising as he guided your movements.

“Hwa– fuck ‘m cumming! Oh my god!” You screamed as your vision turned white when your orgasm hit you like a ton of bricks, your nails digging into his shoulders as he helped you ride out your high. Your whole body trembled in his hold as your walls fluttered around his cock nearly sending him into orbit when he suddenly came.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” He chanted, teeth biting down on the junction of your neck as he pulled you flush against him. 

The both of you sat there in silence for a few moments as you caught your breath, the high slowly wearing off. Seonghwa was the first to move, detaching himself from your neck and looking at the bite mark he had left. He felt pride swell in his chest, knowing that you would have a hell of a time trying to hide it the next day.

“We should do that more often.” He teased, squeezing your hips making you laugh softly.

“What? Shotgunning or fuckng?” You asked, playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, and he just smirked at you, hands moving under your skirt to squeeze your ass.

“Both.”

You laughed only to be cut off by a small whine, your hips rocking softly against Seonghwa’s. The sensitivity made a shiver run down your spine as you collapsed onto his chest, your warm breath fanning his neck as you spoke. “I’m sure we can make that happen.”

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