Warnings: Mafia AU, angst, mature, dark, intense themes, graphic depictions of violence, kidnapping/abduction, physical assaults, threats/intimidation, coercion, major character death, organized crime, gun violence, imbalanced power dynamics, profanity, suspense, emotional manipulation, allusions to trauma, life threatening situations, dark themes, romantic tension, moral ambiguity, adult themes.
Word count: 3.6k
_______________________________________________
At 22 dating a member of a well known criminal organization had seemed so glamorous. Free clubs, fast cars, and notoriety that moved mountains. The danger of it all was intoxicating—back then. Now at 29, with a more developed frontal lobe, you knew better. This wasn't some thrilling phase of life you could someday look back fondly on. It was a suicide mission.
When you first met Seonghwa he was the life of the party. He was loud, reckless, and magnetic. He liked to dance until closing, buy rounds for the whole bar, and fuck in wild places. He was the kind of guy who could turn a forgettable night into a legend.
But that Seonghwa was long gone, snuffed out by the death of his father. What remained was a man that was rigid, watchful, and increasingly dangerous now that he sat at the helm of a criminal empire.
Overnight, the nightclubs turn into business dinners with men whose smiles never reached their eyes, and whose jackets bulged with weapons.
In the car, he no longer kissed you breathless in the backseat. He just stared anxiously at the rearview mirror, tense and vigilant.
Seonghwa trades his musky cologne for a more ominous scent, gun powder; and he doesn't call you his girl anymore. No. Now it was my woman, like he owned you.
You realize quickly that this wasn't just fun and games anymore. It was a cage. A gilded one made of fear, power, and the kind of devotion that demands you to risk everything.
In his world trust is traded like a currency, and you decide it's a price you can no longer afford to pay.
So you slip out in the dead of the night while Seonghwa is stirring restlessly in his sleep, leaving a hurried note on his night stand.
I can't do this anymore. I'm sorry.
For a few days Seonghwa is quiet, seemingly accepting. Then came the roses at your job, strange men parked outside your mother's house, and bank deposits signed with I'm sorry, come back. Each gesture wrapped in the same quiet menace.
You respond with a short text.
Please stop.
And he does.
Or so you think.
_______________________________
Yunho is nothing like Seonghwa. In fact, he's the complete opposite of your ex. He's warm, easy, and predictable in a way that feels safe. He's a reminder that life can be lighter, that not every touch comes with danger or expectation. That's why after a couple of weeks of stillness, you allow yourself to be drawn to him, accepting his invitation to dinner.
Yunho arrives promptly at 7:30 p.m., flowers in hand, opening every door like a true gentleman. During dinner, he asks thoughtful questions and orders a desert to share. He's sweet, attentive, careful. He doesn't press beyond a gentle "are you okay?" when he notices you flinch every time the maitre de welcomes a new guest.
In the parking lot, he closes his eyes when you kiss. Yours stay open, darting around, searching for danger. You can't help it. Old habits die slower than you hoped.
On the drive home, Yunho hums along to a pop song playing low on the radio. Carefree. He doesn't notice the two black sedans that pull out right after you, their tinted windows too dark to be a coincidence.
Your gaze is locked on the passenger side mirror. The cars stay behind you, but not too close. They turn when you turn, slow when you slow. You're about to say something to Yunho when you feel his hand on your knee.
"Everything okay?"
Yunho looks so sweet, eyebrows drawn in concern. You hesitate before lying:
"Yeah." You force a tense smile before quickly adding, "I had a great time tonight."
Yunho smiles warmly.
"Yeah?" He asks, expression relaxed. "Me too. We should try the farmer's market next time. My grandma swears by their peaches."
You're about to agree, attempt more small talk, but a quick glance at the window stops you cold. You don't recognize the area.
The road ahead is completely bare, flanked by dense forest on either side, and the areas beyond the headlights are swallowed in thick darkness.
"Um...this isn't the way to my place. Where are we?"
Yunho laughs nervously, "I took the back roads. Wanted to spend a little more time with you."
Your stomach lurches. The back roads were dark, wooded, and isolated. No streetlights. No cameras. No witnesses. Just you, Yunho, and the two sedans that were now closing in.
You panic.
"We need to get out of here."
"What?"
"You need to turn around. Yunho. Now!"
He looks confused.
"I—I can't. It's a one wa—"
The car is suddenly flooded with a white light, every mirror bouncing back the glare of the high beams behind you. You grimace as Yunho curses and swerves, pressing his horn down in panic. The sedan blares its own, and revs closer, disorienting an already frantic Yunho.
He's trying to regain control when the second sedan peels out from behind, tires screeching, and cuts your car off. Yunho slams the brakes too late. The impact comes hard, throwing you both forward before snapping you back against the seats.
"Agh, what the hell..."
Your ears are ringing. Yunho sounds muffled even beside you. You're still reeling from the crash when the car aheads doors swing open.
Your heart drops as Mingi and Wooyoung step out, guns in hand, fingers already on the trigger. They stride towards you and Yunho with calm and terrifying confidence.
"Shit."
Yunho's head snaps towards you.
"Y/N, what’s happening?" He asks, voice cracking.
You fumble for your phone despite the dizziness, but Mingi and Wooyoung are fast. The car shakes violently as they pull at the door handles. Auto lock saves you just long enough to dial 91, then Yunho's window shatters. The shards fly across the front seats, glittering in the headlights.
Mingi reaches through the broken glass, unlocks the car, and drags Yunho out by the collar. Your scream doesn't faze him. He slams the butt of his gun into Yunho's ribs and he folds onto the pavement with a strangled gasp. Then Mingi's on him, patting him down, gun still trained to his temple.
Wooyoung is gentler with you, but no less threatening. His grip is firm when he pulls you out of the car, pins you against the back door, and presses the barrel of his gun to your throat.
"Hey, Y/N." He says, grinning wickedly. "Fancy running into you here."
You glare at the shitty joke.
"What do you want?" You spit, voice shaking with anger.
"Boss wants to see you."
You let out an exasperated breath. "I don't want to see him."
Wooyoung laughs. "I wasn't asking."
Yunho suddenly lets out a sharp yell from the other side of the car. You gasp and turn to look, but your pinned position keeps him from view. You catch a glimpse of Mingi leaning against the drivers side, holding Yunho's wallet open.
"If I were you I'd get in the car, y/n." He says, flipping through Yunho's ID, "For Jeong Yunho's sake."
"Get away from her!" Yunho yells, voice strained.
Thud!
Yunho cries out again and your chest tightens.
"Okay, fine! Fine. Just please... let him go!" You beg.
"Aww, how sweet." Wooyoung spits mockingly, rolling his eyes. "Just get in the fucking car."
Yunho calls out to you frantically as Wooyoung pushes you towards the car in the back. You still can't see him when you look back, but you catch the jerk of Mingi's body as he kicks him. You're shoved into the back seat mid protest.
"Don't be a hero, dumbass." Mingi warns, tossing Yunho's wallet aside. "We know where you live."
Mingi climbs into the crashed sedan, and the two cars drive off into the night.
_______________________________
The drive is silent except for the hum of the tires against asphalt. Hongjoong is steering with one arm, the other rests loosely against the open window, like a man with no where to be. Casual. Leisurely.
In the back, Wooyoung is sitting uncomfortably close. His gun is resting on his thigh, finger laid over the trigger. A quiet and constant reminder to cooperate.
Your heart is pounding, mind racing between worry for Yunho and dread of Seonghwa. Was Yunho okay? Would he call the police? If so, then what? Would Seonghwa kill him? Would he kill you?
The car makes a sharp turn and suddenly the long stretches of woods meld into acres of land swathed in darkness. You're on the outskirts of the city. The occasional glow of a porch light in the distance is the only evidence that you haven't left society behind completely. It's not long before you arrive a Seonghwa's estate.
The wrought iron gates enclosing the mansion swing open of their own accord as the cars approach, then glide closed with a clang!
Now, you were really stuck.
When Hongjoong eases the car to a stop at the front doors, Wooyoung is out in an instant. He swings your door open with an exaggerated politeness that makes your stomach turn.
When you hesitate, his hand clamps tight around your arm, yanking you into the night. You curse and thrash, heels scraping against stone as he drags you into the house. Wooyoung doesn't loosen his grip until he's hauled you through the grand foyer, down the hall, and into Seonghwa's home office.
The room is dark save for a single bankers lamp that casts a muted green glow on the massive mahogany desk it's perched on. It smells like leather, cigar smoke, and his cologne. Strong and overpowering.
Your pulse trips. The room reminds you of the nights when you thought the danger was kind of exciting, and you want to scream at how nostalgic it all feels. At the part of you that still misses the burn of his world even as it swallowed you whole.
Maybe Yunho's soft humming, and the dinners, and the calm... maybe that's who you should be. But Seonghwa's shadow still fits around you like an old coat, heavy and familiar, and you hate that it still feels like home.
A sound cuts through the quiet, and you're torn from your reverie. Your gaze drifts toward the noise to find Seonghwa sitting poised behind the desk, legs crossed, features calm and unfazed by the abrupt entry.
He's stone faced. No smile, no warmth. His eyes are sharp, lips pressed in a flat line, not cruel but certainly not kind. Just cool indifference.
With Seonghwa, it was never anger that made him dangerous. It was the calm.
Your chest tightens, throat dry. Every instinct screams to run, but Wooyoung is standing between you and the door. He'd have a bullet in your head before you could touch the knob.
There's nowhere to go. This is his domain, and here, you're utterly exposed.
Seonghwa stands, pushing the leather chair back. His face is unreadable as he makes his way around the table, pushing his sleeves up his forearms as he does so. His movements are slow and unhurried, like a predator circling before the kill. The jade light of the banker's lamp washes over his features as he passes it, softening nothing. If anything, he looks more terrifying.
His eyes catch yours and hold them, dark, sharp, impossible to look away from.
"Finally," Seonghwa says. "I was beginning to think you'd gotten lost."
His voice is smooth, almost pleasant. He looks so calm, remarking as though you were late for dinner plans, like he hadn't taken you against your will. Something snaps, and you're crossing the room. Your hand flies up before you can think better of it, and the sharp crack of your palm against Seonghwa's face echoes through the office. His head whips to the side.
Wooyoung's gun cocks from behind you. He's clearing the room when Seonghwa holds up a hand. The footsteps halt.
"It's alright." Seonghwa says, ensuring the enforcer. "Could you please give us the room."
You can hear the hesitation in his voice when he says, "Yes sir."
Seonghwa levels you with a look, eyes dark and menacing, but he doesn't speak until the door clicks shut.
"Try that again," he says, voice low, "and I'll cut off your hand."
You exhale shakily. Seonghwa had never threatened you before, but by the look in his eyes, you knew he meant it.
He runs a hand through his hair before he leans back against the desk, bracing himself on both hands. His expressions softens back to indifferent.
His eyes roam over you slowly, taking in every inch, then he licks his lips.
"You look nice." He murmurs.
You let out an exasperated breath.
"What do you want from me, Seonghwa?"
"I want you back." He says immediately. "You've had your fun, now come home."
He says the second part in an almost whisper that makes your heart ache.
You can't look at his face. "I'm done, Seonghwa. There is no coming back."
A tense silence stretches between you. Then his voice drops, laced with venom.
"Why? Is it because of this Jeong Yunho guy?"
The underlying threat is unmistakable, even before you notice the flash of vexation in his eyes.
Is he my problem?
"This has nothing to do with Yunho—"
"Then what is this about?" He pushes off the table, voice firm.
He's towering over you now. You step back instinctively, swallowing hard.
"I-I don't want this."
"Don't want what?" He presses.
"This," you gesture vaguely between you. "Us... You."
"You don't want me?"
Seonghwa quirks a brow, letting out a humorless laugh. You backtrack.
"N-no, I just...I just mean I-I- fuck."
"You just mean what?"
You run a hand through your hair and take a deep breath.
"Hwa, this... this was fun at first, but I can't keep doing it. I need something else. A life. Stability. Family. Not...this." You gesture around the office. "And you... you've got your father's empire on your shoulders now. This just won't...work."
For a moment, Seonghwa just stares at you, like he's trying to process the words. His brows furrow, then lift. He can't decide whether he's confused or insulted.
"Ahh, so that's what this is about?" His voice is low, incredulous. "You're walking away because you're scared of what comes next?"
Your gaze drops, unable to meet the accusation in his eyes.
He laughs, sharp and bitter. "You knew who I was when we met. What the fuck did you think was going to happen?"
"Not this!" You say, shaking your head. "I thought you were just Mr. Park's son, bad-boy player extraordinaire. Now you are Mr. Park! We've been in shoot outs, Seonghwa. Like real fucking shoot outs! This was supposed to be fun, not life and death. I did not sign up for this shit."
"I didn't sign up for this either!" He explodes.
Seonghwa steps closer, eyes sharp and accusing.
"You think I wanted this life? This name? You think I asked for it? No. But I took it. I had to. I don't have a fucking choice!"
His hand rakes through his hair, exasperated. "And now you're telling me you want out because, what, you just suddenly realized it's dangerous? Because you want a white picket fence and dinner parties?"
Seonghwa turns away sharply. He's breathing hard, shoulders heaving, feet pacing. His fingers flex open and closed like the movement might help release the knot pulsing behind his temple.
He stops suddenly, gaze locking onto you with a sudden clarity, like he's just found the answer. Then he says,
"Fine. You want stability? A family? A future?"
He moves to the desk and pulls open a drawer. Your expression morphs into one of curiosity, but before you can ask what he's looking for Seonghwa straightens and your breath catches.
In his hand is a small black velveteen box.
"Then have it with me."
He snaps the box open, and the ring glitters in the lamplight like a trap.
His eyes don't waver from yours.
"Marry me."
For a second, you can't even speak. You're winded, and your mind scrambles for the right words, the ones that won't get your lifeless body thrown into the local river.
"Seonghwa..." you whisper, forcing a shaky laugh, "it's... it's beautiful, but—"
"But?" He asks, cocking a brow.
The question is laced with warning.
You swallow hard, eyes darting from the ring to his face, every instinct screaming to tread carefully.
"I-I just... I need time. I need to breathe. This is all... it's too much."
Seonghwa studies you, expression unreadable. He snaps the box shut with a sharp click that makes you flinch, then steps in closer.
"Time?" he repeats flatly. "I'm offering you everything you said you wanted...and you need...time?"
His eyes bore into yours, searching for cracks.
"We both know that's bullshit, Y/N, so why don't you spare us both the lies and just say what you really mean."
Your throat tightens. The weight of Seonghwa's glare is piercing, crushing.
"Say it."
You force out a shaky breath.
"I don't want this. I don't want to marry you." You whisper. Then, louder, forcing the words out, "I don't want to be a mob wife."
Seonghwa freezes. His brows knit, confusion flickering for a moment before it hardens into something darker. His adam's apple works as he swallows. Then a sound, half laugh, half scoff, bursts from him, sharp and disbelieving.
"You don't want to be a mob wife?" he repeats slowly, spitting the words out like they taste bitter in his mouth.
Seonghwa's hand tightens around the box until his knuckles start to turn white. His eyes are locked on you like you've just gutted him, and for a moment, he looks like he might shatter.
But he doesn't. Instead, with one violent move, he hurls the velvet box across the room and into the wall. You yelp at the sound, instinctively flinching back. It crashes open, and the ring skitters across the floor with a metallic ting.
Seonghwa drags a hand down his face, like he's forcing himself back under control, but when he looks at you again, his eyes are darker than you've ever seen them.
"You don't want to be a mob wife?" His voice drops, venomous. "Is that all you see me as, y/n? Some kind of fucking thug?"
Seonghwa strides towards you slowly with each word, and for every step forward, you take one back.
"Will you cut that shit out!" He yells, grabbing you by the forearm. "What? Are you scared of me now?!"
"Ow! Seonghwa, you're hurting me!" You wince, jerking against his grip.
He pulls you against his chest.
"You're hurting me, too!"
Your eyes cut to him, and when your gazes meet the whites of his eyes are glassy. His pupils are dilated and shaking. His brows are draw together, and there's a faint crease forming across his forehead. A silent, desperate plea.
"You're killing me, y/n." He says, voice breaking.
You look away, blinking fast to hide the tears pooling at your waterline.
"I'm sorry." You whisper. "I don't want to hurt you but I can't stay. I can't do this."
Seonghwa exhales, long and deep, then he lets you go.
"Fine. Then leave."
You glance at Seonghwa, stunned, caught between relief and despair.
His face is stone cold again, but there's no more fire in his eyes. No anger, no hostility, just broken resignation.
You hesitate for a long while before you make your first move. One tentative step back, then another, and another. You inch backwards, slowly testing the space between you and Seonghwa. When he doesn't move, you whisper one final apology, then bolt for the exit.
You swing the door open and gasp when you're suddenly face to face with an aggravated Wooyoung. He's blocking the way, pistol already drawn.
"Let her go." Seonghwa calls from behind you.
Wooyoung hesitates, then shifts aside, and lets you slip through the gap.
He moves in as you step out, and you can hear his muffled voice complaining and questioning as you drift further away. His grumbles slowly taper off into the distance until all you can hear is the echo of your heels in the polished hallway.
At first you walk in a daze, almost unbelieving. Then your pace quickens, desperate to reach the door in case Seonghwa should change his mind. You're practically running when you reach the foyer. You're breathing in heaves, and the glittering chandelier overhead blurs with the tears you're holding back.
You're almost free.
Just a few more steps.
The front door is looming just beyond your reach when your name suddenly drifts down the corridor softly, almost reverent.
"Y/N."
You stop against your better judgment and turn, hope still trembling through your fingertips. Maybe he just wants to say goodbye. Maybe—
BANG!
The shot cracks through the silence like thunder. The bullet sears through your back, and you collapse to the floor, breathless. Your ears are ringing, mouth slowly filling with blood, and through the haze you turn to see Seonghwa striding towards you, gun still smoking, his face harsh beneath the low glow of chandelier.
You claw at the marble trying to drag yourself to the door, mere inches away, but the pain is excruciating. It pins you where you are, and all you can do is plead as the steps draw closer.
"Seonghwa... Seonghwa please." You rasp between tears. "Please! I—I'm sorry."
Seonghwa slows to a stop above you, eclipsing the light. His hand is steady around the gun aimed at your head, and your sobs tear out of you erratically as you stare down in to the cold black barrel.
"I'll stay! I'll stay! Please, I'm sor—"
Beneath your frantic pleas, as though to himself, Seonghwa whispers, "I'm sorry too."
Then, without warning, the final shot tears through the hall.
⭑ bf!mingi x gf!reader x bestie!yunho
⭑ warnings in each part smut minors dni / word count 89.2k
ONE — planning to buy a house, get married and start a family within the next few years, you and mingi are the blueprint for the perfect relationship— until one of yunho’s infamous stories about his intriguing sex life gets stuck in your head for a little too long, and has you curious about spicing up your own sex life. 21.4k
TWO — it finally happened... and then it happened again... and again... until lines are blurred and everything feels a little heavier than it was supposed to. 31.3k
THREE — four days away at the beach, hiding your feelings from all of your friends while you’re all under the same roof, a week after yunho broke up with you and mingi. easy enough, right? 36.5k
“My emperor is fine” your emperor has commissioned over 8000 life-sized terracotta soldiers and buried them facing east, in the direction of his recently conquered enemies in the hopes that they will protect him in the afterlife.
summary: every girl has had that exhilarating little crush on their teacher, it’s not unheard of by any means. it almost always amounts to nothing, a small little motivation that keeps you awake in class. most girls don’t get hired by their professors to be a babysitter, and most girls don’t end up entwined in a situation so wrong that it eats them alive at night. not the guilt, or the shame. but the hunger, and the need. and most professors certainly don’t play into those little infatuations, and find themselves chasing that chance to absolutely ruin them. so why are you trying to play house and take on a role that wasn’t meant for you?
warnings: age gap(reader is in her 20’s, mingi is in his 40’s), this is nasty, DILF!mingi, lowkey salt & pepper!mingi, tension, power dynamics, emotional turmoil, girl dad mingi, manipulation, corruption, teasing, condescending!mdom, pet names(sweetheart, pretty baby, darling, slut etc), size kink, voice kink, praise, mating press, oral(f!receiving), countdown, biting, fingering, lowkey breeding kink, choking, overstimulation, dirty talk, eye contact, messy sex, mouth covering, hold the moan, creampie
wc: 18.1k (I am SO sorry)
notes: hiii… my dear @linearities, it’s me your secret admirer! you put down dilf Mingi and I was SAT. and then you mentioned prof!teez, so I just thought why not combine the two? you don’t understand how much I got into this while I was writing it’s kind of insane, god I hope you like it. all the love in the world… thank you @everyonewooeverywhere for hosting such a fun event
- your secret admirer <3
tracklist: million dollar man, strange candy, baby one more time
You weren’t stupid. You weren’t dumb, quite the opposite. You were intelligent, cunning. A smart woman who sometimes made foolish decisions. This would be one of them, one of the stupidest you've ever made.
And you would still do it again if ever given a second chance.
It nearly frightened you, the effect he had on you; it was embarrassing enough. It felt like an unattainable crush, a fleeting little infatuation that was bound to pass with time.
But it was so hard to get over it when you saw him nearly every day of the week. And even so, it was still not enough, and far too much all at once.
If it had to be described as anything, the word would be taboo. When he was introducing himself to his class of the year, he started with something that made your stomach do a flip.
“Y’know I have tattoos older than most of you in here, so if you ever question my teaching methods, think long and hard about how much longer I’ve been on earth than you.”
You thought long and hard, alright, and it certainly didn't help your little girly infatuation with your professor.
Professor Song Mingi, a literary instructor at your college. Students clamored during open season to squeeze into his class, which always filled up so quickly during enrollment. His teaching was sound and effective, and it didn’t hurt that he was way too easy on the eyes.
A low, flowing voice that was easy to grip onto and follow, gentle handwriting, and a pristine way with words. Dark tresses that framed his soft yet angular face, pink, puffy lips that wrapped around his syllables like a glove. His pretty, sharp nose beckoned for a rider. His meaty arms that always seemed to be struggling beneath his rolled-up white blazers, the buttons on the cuffs mere seconds from popping off.
His class was always dimly lit, a comfortable aura that made it easy to ease into learning. You could write a 20-page essay on why you enjoyed his class.
He was never dismissive, always listened to his students attentively, and truly valued their thoughts and opinions. He enjoyed shaping young folks' minds and helping them through their way, assisting them in growing and becoming respective, creative individuals.
You never struggled in his class, never had to ask for tutoring sessions. And to be honest, you probably wouldn’t be able to handle a one-on-one with him either way. He was too intimidating, too suffocating.
Whenever he asked the class a question, and you were able to gather your bearings to answer, you could hardly keep yourself from tripping over your words with how intense his gaze was.
Like he was clinging onto every word like a lifeline, his eyebrows raising now and then when your response flowed from your lips, his tongue would poke out the corner of his mouth, nodding along as he listened.
He’d always smile when you finally stumbled through your response, pointing his pen in your direction with a sly grin.
“Smart girl.” That stupid voice that made your brain dissolve into a useless puddle.
It was never good for your nerves.
But recently, you felt like his material has been getting more difficult. Maybe it was because finals for the semester were approaching, and the work started to get more grueling? Or maybe you were just tired, but his lectures started to blend into watercolor, and the readings he assigned the class started to sound like pig Latin.
Luckily, you weren’t the only one confused, when a girl who sat next to you leaned over while he was talking and whispered to you.
“Is he speaking English right now?”
Today was no different; the stress started to weigh on you as more finals began to close in. Recently, you’d been a bit tight on money, trying your best to save up from the barista job you’d been managing for the past year, but it was starting to fall short.
You had set up a job portfolio the night before in a fit of desperation in hopes of snagging a gig on the side in childcare, just to push you through the last few months of the year.
The winter chill nipped at your bones, and you always felt demotivated in the cold. The class dragged on, and you could barely keep your thoughts in a straight line as Professor Song droned on. You tried to cling to every word, retain every piece of information, but it all just seemed to slip away like you had butter fingers.
Your notes became sloppy, and your doodles in the margins became more frequent. Everyone in your immediate vicinity seemed just as hopeless, and this must have caught your professors' attention.
He turned from the board, and his face fell from concentrated to a soft sort of concern. He sighed softly and set his pen on the desk, a quiet clatter on the wood surface. This caught your attention, and you raised your head slowly.
Your eyes locked with his immediately, almost as if he was already trained on you before you raised your gaze. Your eyes dance with one another for a fleeting moment, and something flashes across his face, subtle yet electrifying. Then he’s clearing his throat, ripping his eyes from yours, and swimming over the rest of the lecture room.
He moves away from the board, lifting himself to sit on his desk, crossing his legs, and clasping his hands on his lap.
“Alright, guys, I get it.” The class directs its scattered attention to its professor sitting on his desk, his foot shaking back and forth softly. “It's the end of the semester, we’re all tired. Believe me, I’m in the same boat.”
He turns his head to a framed picture on his desk, a candid photo of him and his young daughter celebrating her birthday at the aquarium. “My daughter keeps whining at me about how hard her coloring sheets are. She can’t for the life of her understand the difference between indigo and violet.”
This pulls a warm laugh out of everyone, and you can’t help but join in. Professor Song never stops talking about his daughter; he loves her with all his heart. He has her many scribbled arts around his lecture room, photos of her on his desk, and her pipe cleaner flowers displayed proudly in the far right corner.
You tap your pen against your notebook rhythmically, and you don’t catch the way his eyes sweep over your face while the laughter dies down. “Everyone’s running on fumes, and I’m sure you’ve heard it a thousand times, but this is important. We’ll pull through this last month, and we’ll have a few weeks off to laze away, and it’ll be well earned. Right?”
The class nods in agreement, and Professor Song smiles in acknowledgment. “So, do me a beautiful favor, and stay with me a little longer while we get through this, okay? You all have been doing phenomenal this year, let's keep it up til the end, yeah?”
Everyone perks up at the encouraging words, and you find your energy slowly creeping its way back into your blood. Just enough to get through the day, but not enough to prepare for the shitshow that was to come.
Two thousand weekly.
You rubbed your eyes, blinking a few times and drinking some water to be sure you weren’t hallucinating the mail in your inbox.
You had arrived back home after dragging yourself through the last bits of Professor Song’s class, leaving with mostly full note pages and a renewed vigor to pull through this last semester.
The portfolio you had set up on the nanny website already had a response, and quite an unexpected one. A generous offer for pay, a part-time position as a babysitter for a young girl, age 6. Two thousand per week for 6 months, free meals provided, flexible schedule. It was almost too good to be true. The email didn’t go into too much detail, only offering further information if you shot back a response expressing your interest.
It was everything you needed and more, but one thing was making you hesitant. One small, coincidental detail.
Regards, M. Song.
Signed at the bottom of the email, like colorful barbed wire.
It had to be a coincidence. There was no way it was him.
Song is a common last name; you were sure it had to be somebody else. No matter, it was too good to pass up, and you found yourself drafting your email before you gave it any more rational thought. If it were him, it would be dangerous. You’d be deep in enemy territory.
You sent the email expressing enthusiastic interest in the position, and slammed your laptop shut so hard you thought you heard a key fly off. You buried your face in your hands and groaned aloud into the darkness of your bedroom, trying to shake the weird feeling blossoming in your chest.
It had to be a coincidence. There’s no way your literary professor saw the hundreds of capable babysitting portfolios to choose from and decided to pick yours. There’s no way you posted it yesterday, and he just so happens upon a day later and immediately makes his decision.
There was no way he was offering so much money for something as simple as babysitting.
There was no way you’d be able to go through this and maintain a professional, normal attitude.
Not even 10 minutes later, your phone chimes, the blinding light illuminating your dark room, therefore sealing your fate. You hadn’t even clicked the notification, skimming over the email banner before mentally checking out.
Dear Miss L/N,
Thank you for expressing your interest in the position. I would be delighted-
And that was it. You eventually gathered enough courage to open the email. It gave you all the information you needed, a scheduled time to meet at his home to set up the payroll, and introduced you to his daughter. Work out kinks and settle into the position.
Mr. Song doesn’t return home until after dark, well after 9 pm. Your shifts start at 3 pm every day for the next six months. Sundays are guaranteed days off, and he shall keep you posted on future days off if available. You had mentioned in your email that you were a student, so availability might fluctuate depending on school.
His response?
“You mentioned you were a student; I am well aware of this fact. Do not worry, I will ensure that your studies will remain unaffected.”
An insane thing to say, by the way.
It was definitely him. Regardless, you would find out in due time when you finally meet him at his home, and solidify what was to come, which can only be described as unmentionable.
-
His big warm hand encased yours, swallowing it whole so effortlessly. Calloused fingertips brush against the pulse that bounces in your wrist, and you barely keep your breath from hitching. His thumb runs over your knuckles, and you swallow a weird noise.
“Thank you for taking the position, darling. You’re saving me a hell of a lot of time.” That's stupid, grin, toothy, and wide. His eyes crinkled at the corners, the crows' feet making their grand appearance. The streaks of silver that flow through his dark hair like a wave you’ve never noticed until now, so close it was hard to miss.
“Of course… Mr. Song, thank you for considering me.” You weren’t sure whether you should call him professor or a different honorific outside of the lecture room, but he did not correct you, so you assumed it was the right choice.
You caught yourself that Saturday morning paying extra attention to your hair, curling your lashes a little higher, reapplying layers of lip gloss until it looked like you’d been making out with honeycomb.
Throwing together a cute outfit to make a good “first impression.” You couldn’t believe yourself, but once you were out the door and in your car, it was too late to worry about it now.
Your nerves were alight as you made your way to his address. You nearly saw him every goddamn day, but of course, this was different.
His residence was a rustic western style house, furnished with well-kept gardens in the front yards and a freshly painted porch and patio. A cute, homey place that somehow just made him all the more attractive.
You pulled into his driveway, taking your keys out of the ignition and giving your body a moment to relax. A few deep breaths and one life saver mint later, and you were stepping out with your purse in your clutches and your anxiety written all over your poor face.
You hadn’t even noticed until you raised your gaze from your feet, but there he stood. On his front porch, that white blazer with his rolled-up sleeves, no tie today. Black slacks and his glasses low on the bridge of his nose. His eyes are leering at you.
You stopped in place when you saw him, and his expression never changed. A sort of scrutiny on his brow as he watched you step out of your car, dare you say borderline predatory, but you certainly wouldn’t want to set anything into motion by manifestation. Surely not.
You lift your hand and give a curt, polite wave. Then his brows are falling, his lips are curling, and he’s offering a warm, gentle smile.
“(Name.) Good to see you, I’m glad you could make it.” Mingi’s own voice booms over his front yard to your ears, and you force your feet to unstick from the driveway pavement and continue to walk to his home.
You walk up the steps with only slightly shaky legs, face-to-face with him. “Of course, sorry if I’m a bit early.”
He smiles wider, yet softer. “It’s perfectly fine, I’d prefer you be early rather than late. I admire your punctuality; you’ve always been like that.”
You’ve always been like that.
You try not to let the praise get to your head, and you barely miss the way his tongue swipes over his bottom lip as he catches the way your shoulders hunch slightly at his words, and your fingers squeeze the straps of your purse just a little tighter.
“Well, let’s not just stand around. She’s excited to meet you.” Mr. Song turns and pushes open his front door, standing in front of it to hold it open. “After you.”
You smile nervously and slowly walk inside. He watches every step you take as you brush past him, your shoulder just barely grazing his lower chest, there not quite being enough room between him and the door frame to give you a spacious entry. His cologne hits your nose as you walk by, and you stop yourself from inhaling deeply as you plant your feet on his foyer floor, listening as he shuts the door and clicks the lock.
You were in enemy territory, and you had never felt more vulnerable in your life.
Immediately, you were tripping over toys, and you nearly fell backwards as a little girl came running up you, picking up one of the dolls you nearly busted your ass on and handed it to you.
“Okay and scene!” You can’t help the smile that breaks on your face, the confusion of being suddenly thrown into a scene, evident.
“Wait, what’s happening-“
The little girl is carrying another doll, and she shakes it back and forth as she begins to speak. “Where have you been? You’re late again!” She pouts furiously as she points to the doll in your hand, and you know that's your time to shine.
“I’m not late,” you speak through the doll in your grasp, kneeling to sit at eye level with the girl. “In fact, I’m right on time!” You motion the doll’s arm to point at an invisible watch on her plastic wrist, and you practically see the girl light up over you playing along with her.
You pay no attention to Mingi, who stands behind you, watching you interact with his daughter, a small smile on his face. You play along happily, and he can see how much his daughter has already taken a liking to you. But before she can drag you into another scene, Mingi is clearing his throat.
He crouches down and with his strong arms he scoops her up, and little giggles flow from her as he lifts her into his hold. “You little monster!” He grumbles playfully, the sweetest smile on his lips as litters her face in fleeting kisses, an exaggerated ‘mwah’ punctuating each one he landed.
He swings her back and forth like she was on a carnival ride and he laughs morph into joyous squeals, the smile on Mingi’s face nothing short of beautiful.
You watch in awe and admiration, how sweet he is with her and it makes something in your heart twist.
When she reaches her little hand out and pulls on some of his hair, his smile drops a little and hers only widens.
“Ouch- okay, no hair pulling sweetpea we know this.” He gently sets her down, not without the theatrics akin to a landing airplane.
Once her feet touch the ground she mumbles out an adorable sorry, and you swear you see Mingi’s heart melt.
“Alright, lovebug, you can give her more acting lessons later. Daddy needs to talk to her for a second, okay?”
The little girl frowns as you sheepishly hand her back her doll. “Don’t worry, we can play a lot more once I’m all settled in. I promise.” You smile, and she returns it, taking her doll back and bounding away to the couch in the living room, resuming her little roleplay on her own.
You stand up slowly and watch her skip away, somewhat avoiding turning around to see Mr. Song. When you finally turn, his back is to you as he’s begun walking to the kitchen. You follow, nearly tripping over toy cars and plush animals again.
He stops in front of the kitchen island, pouring you and himself a small glass of water out of a filter. He sets the cup on the countertop with a clink, sliding towards you as you stand a few feet away from him, trying to keep as much distance as is deemed appropriate.
When the silence stretches for much too long, you pick up your cup and take a big sip, hoping the cool water will calm your nerves. You open your mouth to speak, but he beats you to it.
“She likes you a lot already.” He states, raising his eyes over and glancing at the back of the couch.
A shy smile graces your face as you take another sip. “You could tell that from such a small interaction, Professor?” You glance up at him over the rim of your glass, and you don’t miss the way his eyebrows raise, and his face shows nothing short of amusement.
“Well, she is my kid after all, and I know her pretty well.” He takes a sip from his own glass, tapping his metal-clad fingers against the checkered walls of the cup. “And I don’t see why she wouldn’t like you.”
Of course, you were going to ask, what the hell does he mean by that? You smile, more confident now, setting your glass on the countertop and crossing your arms over your chest.
“Do tell, what's there to like?” Something about the entire conversation just felt… informal. You’ve never spoken to him outside of the lines of education or questions about exams. This type of talk was far beyond your teacher-student boundaries, even if it can be considered as fleeting small talk.
This makes him laugh, and you feel your lips twitch at the melodic sound. You try not to smile any harder than you already are.
“Asking for lip service now, are we (Name)?” His playful tone of voice carried a much lighter cadence than the authoritative tone he held in the classroom. You tried not to notice that tattoo that was peeking through his sheer white dress shirt.
“No, Mingi.” You reply just as playfully, and you find yourself rubbing your lips together, grounding yourself with the feeling of the layer of lip gloss on your lips.
His eyes linger on your mouth for just a fraction of a second, hardly noticeable. They trail up the side of your face, and his gaze stops on your eyes. Something in his eyes changes, a kind of shift that makes your heart stop for a moment. His jaw flexes and fingers twitch as he moves to cross his own arms.
“That’s Mr. Song, or 'sir' to you, young lady.” His eyebrows set hard, and you feel your stomach drop at the sudden change in attitude. He looks down at you like you’re small, like you don’t deserve his respect. As much as you’d like to push it, he controls your grades and ultimately your future. And passing up on such a gratuitous opportunity with this job simply to act a little too familiar with your professor would be borderline idiotic.
His eyebrows raise, and his tongue pokes the inside of his cheek, urging your confirmation of his command. “Understand?”
You swallow and nod your head politely. “Yes, sir.” You quickly grab your glass again and down the rest of the water, taking a moment to gather yourself, because as depraved as it was. That entire interaction made you god-awful wet.
“We may not be in class, but I’m still your elder.” He turns around and walks past you, a trail of his cologne passing beneath your nose and fogging your brain. You have to crane your neck to watch the back of his head as he walks away, the sheer size of him dizzying.
“If you don’t mind me asking.” You force from your throat, keeping your eyes on the floor as you speak. “Was there any reason you chose me specifically?”
He snorts, endearingly so. “Do I need a reason?” Like it was a dumb question, even though there are no such things in his words. “I just decided to hire you. Nothing more and nothing less.”
“Well, there were plenty of people who were just as capable, if not more so-“
He interrupts you with a whistle and a loud snap of his fingers. “What did I say?” He leans his head backward like he was annoyed, an exasperated sigh leaving his lips as he speaks under a low breath. “God, always so inquisitive.”
You stop from letting your mouth drop open in surprise. “If you have any implications swimming around that pretty brain of yours, forget it. You’re a capable girl, aren’t you?” He lowers his gaze to you, waiting expectantly for you to reply.
You nod and pick a piece of dust off your shirt. “Of course.” You reply in a small voice, but Mingi clicks his tongue and shakes his head.
“Say it out loud. C’mon.” You take a small breath and sigh quietly.
“I am capable.”
Mingi smiles and turns away from you once more. “Beautiful. Save the rest of the questions after we set up your payroll.”
He finishes, and he raises his hand and brings up his middle and ring finger, motioning to you in a “come hither” motion, a movement so slow that it seemed dizzyingly suggestive.
“Come now, while we’re still young.” You force your feet to move and follow him further into the house, passing his daughter as she plays on her own world on the couch, completely oblivious to the strange tension that lingered between her father and her new babysitter.
Mingi was intense, authoritative. He knew how he wanted things to be and made sure everyone else stayed in their lane. And you had a weird lingering feeling that nothing good was to come out of stepping that home privacy boundary.
But hey, two thousand was two thousand. And maybe you were being greedy, but something much more than money was keeping you from using your fucking brain and getting out of dodge.
He was not good for you, and god he knew it. You both knew it. But if the heat you felt in your lower belly and the racing of your heart were anything to go by, the gut instinct that told you not to walk into the wolf’s den was for sure one that was meant to be ignored.
After a smooth process of connecting your bank account, printing you a house key, and an extensive tour of the home, he sent you home with a thank-you bonus of a few hundred dollars and your schedule for the following week. Monday through Friday, at 3 pm, you would arrive at the Song residence. You would see Mingi off for his night classes and tend to his daughter until he arrived home at 10 pm.
He never mentioned a wife, or any kind of spouse. You had assumed they had most likely divorced, you never saw any picture of a woman around the house, and his daughter never mentioned a mother.
You had considered asking him about it, but something inside of you said that would be overstepping a grand boundary that should not be touched.
While you had Mingi’s morning class, he would only be on campus for those two hours before returning home to spend the rest of his day with his daughter, before the evening whisked him away to work once again. So, of course, you would still see him in class.
And it is so much worse now.
And you couldn’t help but feel that he found the whole thing amusing.
Teaching the class like normal, writing down key points on the board, reading through articles and poems, and helping everyone pick the words apart. You never called him sir in class; it was always Mr. Song or Professor. He asked you to call him sir, no, demanded that you refer to him as such when you visited his home.
So with a slow raise of your hand, to ask a question that truly meant nothing. He paused his writing to look at you, and he moved back around to continue his writing once you had been acknowledged. “Yes, ma’am?” He asks, while he finishes the cursive curl of his letter y.
“You say that symbolism in poetry is entirely up to the reader’s perception, and that we can choose to decipher it any way we see fit. Is that maybe a little too loose in terms of freedom, considering some people might extend their reach of understanding too far to be deemed within the author’s original intentions?”
It was an innocent question, a good one, maybe perhaps a little random. Mingi turns away from the board, ending the sentence he wrote with a heavy period, a loud thunk against the whiteboard. The edges of the blue ink splatter around the punctuation.
“It's as I said,” he begins, eyebrows relaxed as he finds you easily at your desk, rolling your pencil eraser over your bottom lip, a curious glaze of intrigue shadowing your eyes. “While it is entirely up to the reader, most people are smart enough to gather what the poet is trying to convey. Readers can come up with similar conclusions, but maybe with different rounded edges. There will be similarities, but there can also be differences, all because we perceive everything differently as humans.” He quietly adjusts the knot of his tie, the veins in his hand flushing as he moves.
You find your eyes falling to watch his arm move, his biceps struggling under his sleeves. You smile and nod, bringing your pencil down to your chin and tapping it lightly. “Thank you, sir.”
Nobody else catches it; it was so subtle that it wouldn’t have mattered to anyone even if they did. But his hand froze around his necktie, and his fingers twitched. His nose scrunched only slightly, and a sharp, quiet inhale made your skin prickle.
He nods quietly and turns back to the board to continue teaching. “Always with the smart questions.” He murmurs under his breath, and you both clearly knew that the question was about much more than just poetry.
The first day went surprisingly smooth. You arrived at his home early, of course, using your new key to unlock the door and welcome yourself in. His daughter was the first to greet you, running to you and enveloping your legs in a tight hug, her little nails digging into your skin with how hard she held you.
You said hi, all warm smiles and soft tones, only raising your eyes when you feel another pair on you. Standing at the end of the hallway was Mingi, leaning against a doorframe with relaxed ease, his tie loosened and his hair astray. He leaned his head against the white frame, his eyes low as he paid no attention to anything but you. You couldn’t read the expression on his face, and all you could feel was pinned. Like he was holding your body down with just his gaze, and it makes your heart kick up.
Then he smirked, a ghost of one if anything. A knowing, small smile that would be easy to ignore if it simply wasn’t him. Before you could say or do anything else, the little girl, whose name you learned was Ami, was dragging you away from the foyer, spewing phrases about new toys and complimenting your punctuality.
Mingi watches you walk away with his daughter, clasping your hand tight, and your sweet little warm smile returns as you respond to her words with enthusiastic earnestness.
She leads you to the couch, grabs the remote, and asks you to switch on a movie for her.
“Can I borrow your new friend for a second, sweetheart?” Mingi appears behind the back of the couch, his sudden presence nearly startling you out of your skin. He looks down at his daughter with nothing short of pure love, his gaze soft and his tone low and sweet. Ami pouts dramatically and crosses her arms.
Mingi pouts in turn, giving her playful puppy eyes. Then you feel his fingers gently brush the nape of your neck, a slow, gentle caress that was so light it could have been mistaken for a breeze. But it was too warm, too calloused.
“Please?” he whines with a smile, and his daughter rolls her eyes, setting down the remote with a clatter.
“Okay, Daddy, but bring her back.” Her little voice warms your heart, happy that she's taking a great liking to you. You swallow as you feel his fingers slip away from your nape, and you're standing on wobbly legs to follow him as he begins to walk away.
“I promise I will,” he says, blowing her a little kiss, to which she returns with a bright smile. Mingi is leading you away from the living room, and you follow behind with a sort of muted apprehension, and it feels like you are in school again. Like you were being led away by your teacher to talk about poor behavior.
Once you’re back in the foyer, he turns to you, and his soft, parental smile has fallen into something unrecognizable.
He pulls a piece of paper out of his jacket pocket and hands it to you. “This is your list of things that should be maintained and done while watching her. Keeping the place clean, making sure she eats well. Everything we’ve already discussed.” You take the list and give it a swift once-over, mentally noting the most important things.
You slip it into your own pocket, raising your head to look at him once more, and for just a split second, you swear you caught his gaze lingering on your neck. “If you have any questions, my number is also on that piece of paper. Do not call me, but you can message me.”
You nod silently, and he sighs. “Can we work on your verbal confirmation? Use your words, please.” You can’t help the almost sour look that flashes across your face, and you quickly gather yourself before exaggeratedly dropping into a flashy curtsy.
“Yes, boss, I understand.” You say in a dramatic prim accent, but before you could stand back up straight, you feel his warm, large hand slip beneath your chin, gripping your lower jaw firmly.
He’s lifting you back up, leaning his head down so close that you feel his breath on your neck, his nose just shy of brushing against your ear. Your breath catches, and his sweet scent clouds your senses, and you could feel your knees start to buckle beneath you. Mingi’s hand keeps its firm hold on your chin as he lowers his voice to a heavy, throaty whisper that makes the skin on your temple tingle.
“Try again, and lose the attitude, gorgeous. You know better.” His breath fans over your ear, and you could physically feel the skin of the back of your neck flare warmly. He squeezes the pads of his fingers against the soft flesh of your cheek a little harder, and the heat blooms across your lower jaw at his tense hold, and you nearly melt into his hand. Your own voice drops to a nervous, shaky whisper, and you exhale slowly out of your nose. It was so quiet you could hear the wristwatch on his hand ticking by your ear.
“Yes… Sir.” You correct yourself quietly, and his hand still doesn’t move. Instead, his thumb gently runs over your cheek, a repeated soothing path like he’s trying to lull you to sleep with his caresses. He leans away from your ear, coming face to face with you once more, his nose mere inches from brushing with yours. So close you can see every strand of silver in his hair, every wrinkle at the corners of his eyes, every freckle, and the remaining five o'clock shadow from where he shaved earlier that morning. He smelled of faded cologne and wintergreen mints, and you could hardly stop your eyelids from fluttering.
His thumb moves over your bottom lip, gently pressing down on it like he was admiring how soft you were, taking a mental note of how easy you melt under him. How all he needed to do to get you to act right was to pet you like you were some kind of puppy.
It felt like an eternal standstill by the time he slipped his hand away from your face, and you could still feel the heat of it across your face. It felt so wrong. And god did you want to feel it again.
He turns and fixes his loose tie, slipping his blazer on and adjusting his watch. He walks away, leaving you standing like a dumb fawn, grinning as he opens the front door, his keys jingling in his hand. “Do behave yourself, while rewards and punishments are not handed out in class, my home is an entirely different story.”
And with that final note, the door shuts behind him with a click, and you are left in Mingi’s foyer with your heart in your throat and warmth in your stomach, and your entire body thrumming with what can only be described as anticipation.
-
You and Ami got along well, playing with toys and watching television. There was a small spat when you tried to get her to eat her veggies, but after some bribery with a promise of a packet of gummies, she offered up no more fight.
Putting her to bed was no easy feat either, her only surrendering at the promise of a bedtime story. You sent her off to go pick a book, and she came into her bedroom, trotting proudly with the first installment of the Narnia series.
When you dared to question her lengthy decision, she responded with, “Daddy has been reading this to me every night, we’re on chapter 6, he said you could continue reading it to me.”
You quietly roll your eyes, mumbling to yourself as she begins to tuck herself into bed. “Did he now?”
You didn’t complain, and you did find yourself easing into the storytelling, reading with a soft, slow tone to help lull her off to sleep, which didn’t take long, especially after a long day of play.
When her breathing evened, and her head went lazy on her neck, you switched off her lamp and set her stuffed zebra next to her arms and left her room, making sure her rainbow night light in the outlet was on.
You shut her door with a quiet click and sighed to yourself. First night done, now all that was left to do was wait for Mingi to arrive home. You pulled your phone out of your back pocket to check the time.
9:03
He was sure to be home anytime soon, so you decided to take the book you were reading with you downstairs. It had pulled you in enough just by that one chapter alone, and you found yourself wanting to read it from the beginning.
Your bare feet padded against the tile floors of the kitchen, the house asleep and silent as you picked a small mandarin out of the fridge. You sat at the kitchen island, gently peeling the citrus fruit as you held the book open with one hand, and began to read.
You found your fingers nimbly peeling the white veins of the orange and dropping them onto the napkin. Engrossed in the book, you slipped slice after slice of mandarin past your lips as you continued to read.
The quiet of his home was so different in comparison to your own. Tucked further towards the countryside, absent from the honking of horns and the screeches of tires. Just the tranquil sound of whistling trees and the occasional creak of the house settling. It was nice, something you could see yourself getting used to.
You weren’t sure how long you had been reading for, and it wasn’t until you heard the front door shut that you were ripped from your own little world. You hadn’t even noticed the jingle of keys in the lock. Your orange was long gone; only the shredded peel remained as he walked past the foyer, straight into the kitchen to see you.
He paused for a moment, taking in your peaceful little moment, then smiling to himself as he began to shed his coat and drape it over the kitchen table chair. “You look comfy.” He murmurs, loosening his tie.
You swallow a dry patch in your throat, the whole moment reeking of something inappropriately domestic. The low, warm lighting of the overhead oven light. Mingi quietly gets unready after a long day of work, your eyes catching on the way his muscles flex with every movement he makes.
Unclipping his watch and dropping it into the small wooden bowl on the edge of the counter, uncuffing his dress shirt and rolling his sleeves up once again, the hints of a tattoo you’ve never had the pleasure of fully seeing peeking underneath the white linen.
Running a large hand through his silver streaked hair, the strands falling around his face in an organized mess as he sighs, a deep and heavy sound that makes your thighs clench underneath the island.
You close the book absentmindedly, dropping your gaze to the counter just as he raises his eyes to look at you, and you clear your throat as you move to stand.
“I see you’re reading Narnia. Ami asked you to read it to her?” His voice was so quiet, so lofty, it made your brain fizz.
You nod. “She ate dinner well, told me she had fun playing with me today. She asked me to read to her, and she was out like a light by the fourth page. It intrigued me, so I decided to give it a gander.”
You raise your head again, gathering your orange peels in your hand and crossing over to the trash can in the corner. Once dropped in the waste, you turned to hand the book back to him. Your arm outstretched, to which he only stood and stared back at you, his eyes dropping over your body in a less than subtle once over.
He finally reaches out and takes the book from you, not without letting his long fingers brush against your knuckles. His two middle fingers slip between the pages, bookmarking the place that you had stopped at. You swallow as he puppy dog ears the page with one hand, before closing the book and setting it on the island.
The muted glow of the oven light shadowed his face in a soft yellow, the rest of him swallowed in the darkness of the home. He was so tall, his body big enough to stand in front of you and effectively block you from being seen by anyone.
“Well, I should be going.” You mutter, nervously wrinkling the corner of your shirt over and over again. “Thank you again.” You nod your head respectfully, and yet neither one of you makes any move.
Mingi doesn’t move; instead, he lifts his head, lowering his eyes to a half-lidded kind of gaze that makes you feel like you were being preyed on. He sees the tension in your shoulders, the unevenness of your breath, the uncertainty in your eyes, the curiosity in the way your fingers twitch at your side.
The unconscious way your tongue wets your bottom lip, the little vein in your neck that only he could notice.
Then he’s stepping forward, slowly, just enough to have you closer. Smell you, smell him. Not too inappropriate, but maybe not professional.
“I should be thanking you, darling.” His hand reaches out, oh so slowly, just enough to give you time to back away if you want. You don’t. His index finger finds a curl at the front of your head, gently twirling it around the tip of his finger, his eyes on yours.
A gaze so warm, so mistakenly hungry, you swore you were hallucinating. He watched you visibly melt, your lip forming into a parted pout, a beckon. A silent ask.
His finger moves away from the curl of your hair, dances along the side of your neck, brushes down with featherlight gentleness against the side of your throat, a tickling sensation that has your body shivering.
His eyebrows knotted together like he was conflicted, like he was battling an inner ache, one that he was holding himself back from showing.
You couldn’t take it. You simply couldn’t.
Your brain hadn’t caught up to your body, but before you could second-guess yourself, your hands shot out and gripped the collar of his dress shirt, dragging his head down and crashing your lips into his.
No words, no gasp, just a wanton moan that slips past your lips and against his.
Mingi growls from the back of his throat, a sound of sheer surprise, nearly losing his footing underneath him. He rips his head back, his eyes wide and his breathing coming labored.
You freeze, your hands holding nothing but air as he pulls himself away from you. Your heart dropped to your stomach. A look of pure fear on your face as you realized he didn’t reciprocate.
Fuck. Fuck.
A conflicted look flashes across your professor’s face, and he looked like he was about to give you what for. You screwed up.
You immediately open your mouth, ready to spew pathetic attempts at apologies and pleas for forgiveness. But he beats you to it.
“What the hell is wrong with you?” His gravely voice comes out strained and low, and a painful silence begins to stretch between you two.
Then, he bites his inner cheek, his hand lifts and slips his glasses off his face, all but letting them fall onto the counter, groaning low and sonorous, and he’s on you before you could breathe.
His hands slip around and grip either side of your waist, a tight, possessive hold as he slots his lips with yours, melting against your mouth like you tasted like a heaven he’d never get into.
His hands roam up and down your waist, his mouth opening and closing against yours, sliding his tongue over yours, and running it over your teeth. Moaning, sighing into your mouth, his eyebrows knit together in nothing short of pure bliss.
Your hands find his shoulders, your neck beginning to hurt from having to crane your head up to kiss him. All heat behind your tongues, warmth and wetness against each other as you feel a thin trail of drool slipping down the corner of your mouth.
Then he’s lifting you, picking you up off the ground, and dropping you on your ass on the kitchen island. Merely eye level with him, he kisses you deeper, shoving his tongue further down your throat, tilting his head to the side to completely devour you.
Your hands drag down the front of him, your palms flat against his chest, whimpering against his lips in tandem with his starved movements. A quiet “baby” is murmured around your tongue, and your entire body erupts into consuming flames.
His hands slip down and find either of your thighs, spreading them pretty and wide as he slots his lower body between them, pushing his body closer to your between your legs.
His hand moves back up and cups the back of your head, the other trailing up the front of your body and finding a grounding home at the base of your neck, pulling your head further into him as he takes like the greedy man he was.
Kissing the college girl on the counter as she tasted like bourbon, squeezing your flesh like it was keeping him sane, melting at the soft, needy moans that flowed down his throat from your reactions to his touch.
It was a breathless, taboo kind of lust that only people sick in the head can get a kick out of. And if this makes Mingi a sick man, then so fucking be it. He finds himself lost in the sweetness of your lips, the arch in your back. His hand trails down the side of your waist, warm and big as he finds the flesh of your thigh again, squeezing and pressing the softness, moaning at how smooth your skin feels in comparison to his rough hands.
His hand slips up the leg of your shorts, and warmth blooms on your skin, your body shivers as you lean further into him, your kisses turning needy, dangerously feral.
It’s your whiny, low moan that nearly undoes him. And the way your hands slide up to help further loosen his tie. But while he may not be a good man, he’s not a bad one either. With a type of restraint only a soldier could have, Mingi pulls away from your shiny, swollen lips, a thin trail of saliva between you both snapping silently.
Your heavy breaths mingle together, and he rests his forehead against yours, the hand on your neck slowly sliding away, and his other hand moving from your bare thigh to firmly place them flat on either side of your spread thighs, loosely caging your body against the island.
You say nothing, only fighting to catch your breath as your dizzy brain struggles to catch up. He looks down at the floor, the bulge in his pants loud and proud and fucking painful.
With a deep sigh, he turns away, wiping his mouth with the palm of his hand as he mutters a deep “fuck” beneath his breath.
You slowly crawl off the counter, realizing that you need to go. Now.
“I-I’ll see you tomorrow, Min- uh... Professor Song. Sir-“You stutter over your words, a foggy layer of need clouding your mind after having been kissed like he was trying to eat you alive.
Mingi seethes, inhaling sharply as he raises a hand to get you to keep quiet.
“Stop- goddamnit. Sweetheart, don’t call me ‘sir’ right now unless- unless you want me to fuck you against that wall.” You swallow, and it takes everything in your power not to get on your knees and beg for just that.
He could practically smell your hesitation, and it nearly made his entire body erupt into a muted shiver. You nibble on your bottom lip, he could see the way you nervously shake, and you open your mouth to respond, but he just knew what you were going to say, and he did not need to hear it right now.
“Oh, babygirl, you shouldn’t want that.” He ignores your pretty little glazed-over eyes and your frizzy hair that he messed up with his own two hands.
The addicting way you held onto him with your smaller hands, arching your back into him and keening into his touch, crying out as it hurt for every second he let you breathe.
“And neither should I.” He mumbles like he was trying to convince himself too.
Mingi massages his upper jaw, exhaling heavily out of his nose before he turns away from you again, truly believing that if he looked at you one more time, he wouldn’t be able to compose himself. Forty-something years old, and one of his students is making him feel things he hasn’t felt since high school.
“Go home.” He commands, his bassy, breathless voice sending a shockwave straight between your legs. When you don’t immediately move, Mingi clenches his jaw and slightly turns his neck, giving you a glimpse of the turmoil on his face.
“Now.” He bites out, and before you could form another thought, your body was moving.
You grab your things off the living room coffee table and slip out of the house, speeding off to your car and pulling off into the cricket-filled night, confused, turned on, and conflicted.
It was only the first day, and the walls were already crumbling.
-
The following week was torture. Dragging yourself out of bed after being kept up all night with ludicrous dreams, dreams of what could’ve happened if you two didn’t stop. Panties sticky and eyes heavy, you crawl out of bed and dread having to face him every day.
It went the same every day; you arrived, maybe a little later than usual. You avoided every look he shot your way, and you never asked any questions. Just listened and took notes, silently. And when it was time to watch his daughter, he’d be out the front door by the time your car pulled into the driveway, walking past you in silence as you effectively traded places.
You both knew it was for your own good, to keep whatever had been brewing between you two at bay, even if it was never explicitly stated. You had hardly said a word to your professor since that first day. But your eyes said everything.
His, too, god if you both couldn’t be subtle. He’d sit at his desk, watching you click away at your laptop, your leg bouncing beneath the table as you nibbled on your nail. He imagined things about you, things that made him have to adjust his pants before he stood to continue teaching.
And when he arrived home early? Fuck it was even worse. He’d quietly sneak in the front door and catch you and Ami on the couch, her head lying on her lap with her blanket tight in her grasp.
You read to her in a soothing, quiet voice, and gently, your hand stroked the top of her head, playfully brushing your fingers over her face like you were trying to convince her to close her eyes, all with a beautiful smile on your face.
Your pretty pout, your mothering voice, your frizzy hair, and your soft body. God, it makes him so hard it hurts. That night, he announced himself and offered to take Ami off to bed himself, and by the time he made it downstairs, you were already in your car and pulling out of the driveway. It was better this way anyway, Mingi would tell himself. But better for whom? And for what?
Why was this so wrong?
His morale was beginning to chip away, and with each passing hour, each passing day, it was getting harder and harder to keep his hands off of you. And he could tell you felt the same. Your lingering looks and the way your thighs would clench when your gazes met in the lecture room.
Saturday night. You did not go to class that day; therefore, you did not see him. But you would have to later. He always travels to campus on Saturday night to get any extra work done. A workaholic, you called him once. And it was true.
So when you arrived at his front door once again, you tried with every bone in your body to act normal. Unlocking the entrance, you walked inside the now familiar home and stopped in your tracks when you noticed him. Standing in the hallway entrance, like he was waiting for you.
His eyes are low, and his body seems tense. Wearing a form-fitting black dress shirt today, the top two buttons undone. Something more casual for the weekend. A small silver necklace with a dog tag pendant disappeared beneath the collar, and you could see the print of the tag through his shirt. His hair was messier, and his glasses were clasped loosely in his hand.
You breathe quietly, then he's walking towards you. Just as you think he’s going to stop, he walks right past you and reaches for his watch in the little brown bowl. “Ami is down for a nap; if she’s not up by five, go ahead and rouse her.”
He slips on the timepiece, then slides his glasses onto his face, letting them sit low on the bridge of his nose. You nod in acknowledgment, and he's already made his way to the front door, his car keys jingling on his fingers.
Just as you think he’s going to leave, he pauses, his hand hovering above the knob.
“And keep your hands out of my liquor cabinet, young lady.” Now that makes your heart stop. You may have indulged one night after you put Ami to bed, just a couple shots, nothing too concerning. But he had noticed, of course, he had.
When you don't reply, he turns back to you and raises his eyebrows in a scrutinizing question. “Next time, have enough manners to ask. That stuff is not cheap, sweetheart.” The pet name had a bite to it, and you can’t help but want to bite back.
He turns, opens the door, and takes one step outside.
“I’m so sorry, sir. I’ll ask politely next time.” You speak the words with a ghost of a moan enveloping them, and you could see the way his shoulders tense and his hands squeeze the doorknob harder.
Mingi inhales sharply and keeps his head forward. The silence stretches so long and thin you think time might have frozen. And when he speaks next, it sends electricity through your blood, and you can't deny the way you feel your skin tingle.
He laughs, a slow, soft chuckle. “Keep that shit up, (Name),” he challenges, adjusting the straps of his watch in one swift movement. “I can be a bad man if you need me to.” Then the door is shutting behind him, a loud click that rivals the pounding of your heart in your ears.
The house is silent once again, and you are left alone with your racing thoughts and a really, really stupid fantasy in your mind that makes you feel like the nastiest bitch on earth.
-
The bottoms of your feet felt like they were burning, and the floors of his house were frigid. The heat of your body rivaled the still quiet of the house, Ami put to bed, leaving you as the only soul awake inside.
Mingi would be home any minute. And it was at this moment that you needed to make a decision. You weren’t sure what you were going to do, or rather, you weren’t sure what he was going to do.
Or what he wanted to do.
You felt trapped in a home with no lock, like there was no escape. The windows were unbreakable, and the walls were too thick. You were a trapped animal who did not want to leave in the first place.
You could argue that you were a dumb, naive little girl who didn’t know her way in the world, who couldn’t pick up on the signs that her professor wanted to fold her in half and show her what it felt like to be ruined by a real man.
You’d be such a liar, because that’s the one thing that you wanted. You were stupid for wanting this. And Mingi wholeheartedly believed that.
He believed that your wanting him was complete ignorance of consequences, turning a blind eye to plenty of boys who were perfect for a sweet girl such as yourself.
Choosing a man, one that would not care how much you cried those pretty tears, a man that would fuck you until you weren’t able to tell where you ended and he began.
And it was taking everything in his power as he climbed into his car after work that night to not drive himself off the bridge as he drove. Because that would be the sole and only way to stop himself from pouncing on you as soon as he stepped through the front door.
You lie on his bed. In his room. Invading his space without a care in the world as you took in his abode. Neat, clean-smelling, suffocating. Being in there felt like you couldn’t move a muscle without the walls closing in on you.
He strictly told you his room was off limits, that you had no business in there. He would come home, and he would find you in there, the doe on the wrong edge of the forest. And he would hunt you then and there, because you stepped into his territory, and the rules were painted in red on his sheets.
When Mingi first stepped foot into the house that night, he was surprised to find you missing from your usual place at the kitchen island. Reading a book, having a snack. Waiting for him so politely.
You weren’t in the living room, you weren’t in Ami’s room. The guest room, either. Were you hiding from him? He sighed and set his briefcase on the kitchen table, loosening his tie with a groan and setting his watch in the wooden bowl.
You could hear him from upstairs, the familiar sounds of him getting unready. You shifted in his sheets and sat up straight, straining your ears to listen for him.
Footsteps, the clack of the metal plates beneath his shoes, resonated throughout the house like gunfire. The sounds of them ascending the stairs, before the silence of his footfalls as he hit the carpet. He was upstairs.
Immediately, you began to second-guess your decision to be in here. Your choice to take this job. Hell, your choice to take his class to begin with. It was all too risky, too grey.
Silence again, and you could only feel your heart beating in your ears.
“I sure hope you’re not in there, doll.” His voice was so much closer that you could see his shadow through the crack beneath the door. His voice penetrated the walls of his room like a dark kind of fire, and it rattled your bones.
He could hear you. Hear you shift your weight on his sheets after he addressed you. He could hear you stand, hear you walk to the door, and stop in front of it like you were scared to walk any further.
“You’re not supposed to be in my room, you know better.” His tone was tinged with a disappointed, disciplinary note. Mingi teases you by lightly shaking the doorknob, and you nearly jump out of your skin. Why were you so nervous? You had no idea.
You know better. One of his favorite things to say to you. It was true after all. You do know better, but it doesn’t mean you acted like it.
Mingi wouldn’t admit it. Not to you, not to himself either. But he was having so much fun with you. You awakened this dangerous excitement in him that made him want to make all the wrong choices.
He wanted to bend you over his knee and punish you for affecting him the way you did. He wanted to bury his fingers deep in your hair and pull like he was trying to steer you about at his discretion while he worked you inside and out.
Mingi wanted to lay your body out and make you cum so many times you’d have to drop out of his class because every time you laid eyes on him, you would still feel him in your belly.
You made him feel alive, and at his age, that was a dangerous thing.
When you didn’t respond to him, he lowered his voice to a small, gentle coax, like he was trying to convince you he was no threat. “Listen, sweetheart, you’re not in trouble.” It was like he was using his dad voice on you, and you hated that it made you freeze and your heart flutter.
“I just want to talk to you. So are you going to come out of my room? Or am I going to have to come get you myself?”
Your hand hovered over the knob, and just as you dropped it to twist it open, you stopped. Your brain reeled in your skull, and you backed away from the door with small, quiet steps.
When Mingi realized you wouldn’t be opening the door, he couldn’t help but smile. So typical of someone so young and fresh-blooded like you.
You wanted to be found, you wanted to be desired, you wanted to be chased. You wanted Mingi to open that door and make you regret your decision not to listen to him.
You didn’t use your manners and ask with your big girl words, but don’t worry, he’d come in there and set you straight.
Just as you were starting to second-guess yourself, the knob twists, and the door makes no sound. No creak, no squeal on the hinges. Just a silent, slow invitation. The warm light of the stairwell flooded the floor of the dark bedroom, like a spill of orange oil. He stepped in, reached back, and shut the door closed once more with a muted click, and darkness shrouded the room again.
The silence stretched as he stalked towards you; with every step he took, you took one back.
With every step he removed something. His shoes came first, then he reached up and slipped his glasses off his nose, setting them on the dresser he passed by.
His tie was next, his big veiny hands untying it gracefully and wrapping it around the palm of his hand like a leash, teasingly, before he let it hit the floor.
One by one until you were backed against the wall by his headboard. His smell surrounded you like mustard gas, his body shadowed over you like a monster, and his eyes pierced through the dark like a hunter. You barely contained your trembling once he was close enough to touch, close enough to melt into.
His big, rough hands find your wrists, gently gripping them and sliding his palms up your inner arms, over your shoulders, to the back of your neck. He cupped your nape like he was trying to cradle your head from injury, so gentle and so loving.
He squeezed softly, stepping further into you, pressing his body against yours, molding your front with his. His head craned down, and he maneuvered your neck to train your eyes on him. In the dark, everything felt more intense. His touch on your neck burned, the way his thumbs stroked along the edges of your jaw, and his blunt fingernails scraped against your nape.
He inhaled deeply, like he was trying to calm himself.
“Asking for permission really isn’t your style is it?” He spits out the words like a reprimand, and he could feel you shiver under his touch when he said it. You had tears in your eyes, you looked like you had just dropped your lollipop, and you wanted to cry. You were so pretty.
You felt him everywhere, in your ribcage and in your head; he smelled so good. The silver in his hair glimmered from the lamp in the far corner. You heard a roll of thunder in the distance that sounded like Mingi’s moans. The onpour of rain that hit the roof like a broken television.
He looked so beautiful in the dark.
“We can fix that.”
While one hand remained on your neck, the other slid away, along your jaw, up the front of your throat, until you felt his fingers prod against your pouted lips. You opened with zero hesitation, and he slid his middle and ring fingers into your mouth, laying them flat on your tongue.
Oh, so slowly, he glides his fingers in and out of your pretty little mouth, pushing just far enough against the back of your tongue to make the tears in your eyes finally fall. “Such a nasty, pretty baby.” His eyes fell like he was entranced by you, your compliance, and the way you shook like a deer. His eyebrows knit together like he was trying to memorize you, everything about you.
He presses his fingers up, and your canines gently sink into the flesh, and it makes his skin tingle. Back down across your tongue, breaching the back of your mouth, gagging around him with a sad little choke.
He slips his fingers out of your mouth, and you hardly notice the saliva that connected to him, with how you could not pull your eyes away from his face. With a patience that drives you both mad, he trails his hand down the front of your body, over the swell of your breasts beneath your shirt, down to the waistband of your shorts.
He presses his hand at the back of your neck harder, forcing your forehead to collide with his. Nowhere to run as he slips his hand into your shorts.
“You wanna be nasty?” he whispers against your lips, and you catch yourself nodding. You didn’t even mean to, but he finds it so amusing.
Your entire body jerks when you feel his wet fingertips slide beneath your panties and brush over your lips, lifting the slightest bit, finding your clit with such quick ease you could hardly believe it.
Your hands shoot up and fist the front of his shirt, and your eyelids widen then flutter as he presses against that sensitive bundle of nerves, a gentle press and prod as he circles against your clit with teasing intent.
When Mingi watched you practically melt at the simplest of his touches, he felt the confessions start to rear at the backs of his teeth. The urge to tell you everything you may or may not want to hear.
His breath ghosts over your parted lips, his fingers making mind-numbing work of your clit, rotating movement and pressurized strokes that made your thighs shake around his wrist. With a deep breath, he pressed his lips to yours, slipping his thick tongue into your mouth and groaning down your throat.
His fingers claw at the back of your neck, tracing intimate patterns into your mouth, as his fingers dance away from your clit, and gently he prods at your dripping entrance. He coats his fingers in your arousal, and he presses his thigh between your legs to spread you further for him.
“You’re such a pretty little thing.” He whispers into your mouth, and you gasp against him when he slowly fills your soaked cunt with one thick finger, and you feel your eyes roll when he presses so deep and curls up just right. He circles the pad of his finger against that spongy spot, and he purrs into your mouth when your hands on his shirt tighten even more.
“I drive myself crazy thinking about you at night.” Slow, deep come-hither motions inside of you that had your breath coming in broken shudders. “I’d think about kissing you silly, holding you down, playing with you, having that smart mouth of yours moaning for me instead of giving me lip.”
You shiver as he slips a second finger inside of you, a slight stretch that had your knees buckling, but he kept you up by the back of your neck, fully pushing his body against yours and holding you still against his bedroom wall. You moan whiny and pathetic as he slips his thumb up and gently circles it against your clit, all the while his fingers keep curling nice and deep inside you.
“Would you like that?” He murmurs, pulling away from your lips and gently kissing below your ear, breathing lowly against the side of your neck. Your skin shivers as his voice brushes over your ear, and you can hardly control the way your body responds to him so effortlessly, like he has an invisible leash on you.
You nod, muttering out a pathetic ‘yes.’ Mingi pressed the tip of his nose against your neck and pressed his lips against your skin so you could feel them move when he talked. “Words, sweet girl. Haven’t I already told you this?”
It was hard to form words while he was fingerfucking you so well, so deep it was making your stomach cave in, but the need for more outweighed everything else. “Y-yes, sir.” You whimpered, and you felt your chest flutter when he groaned lowly against your ear, a guttural, primal sound that had you clenching around his fingers.
He leans away from your neck with a fleeting kiss, moving his hand from the back of your neck around to the front. Squeezing at the base of your throat, his fingers pressing on those sensitive, soft spots on the side that started making your eyes darken at the corners. His fingers pressed harder, deeper, coaxing inside of you with purpose that was making you go insane with bliss.
Your hands frantically grasped at anything you could, his wrist, his shirt, his belt, anything you could to ground yourself as he pushed you towards that orgasm. He held your throat nice and tight, and you were choking on moans as he fucked you with his thick fingers, and he breathed heavily against your lips. The grip on your neck kept your head in place for him, and as your eyes began to roll to the back of your head, he pressed against those soft spots a little harder.
“Eyes, darling, eyes,” he commands in a breathless moan, and you tear your eyes from the back of your head to look at him, and it nearly undoes you. His fingers are relentlessly curling deep in your pussy, his big warm hand squeezing your throat just tight enough to make your body feel all fuzzy. His dark, begging eyes make your stomach clench, his guiding, baritone voice making your whimpers slip out involuntarily.
“You wanna cum?” He whines against your lips, just lightly loosening his grip on your neck to allow you to respond. “Ask me nicely.”
“Yes, fuck- please…” You moan hoarsely, and Mingi takes his bottom lip between his teeth.
“So you do have manners.” He teases, his thumb brushing upwards against your clit as the grip on your throat tightens once more. “Cum then, baby. Let it go, make a mess for me.” The corners of your vision bleed into something dark, and he lowers his mouth to take your lips with his again, moaning softly into your mouth, his eyes never leaving yours.
“Come on, come on….” he barely whispers into the kiss, and you cannot deny him even if you tried. His fingers never cease, only slowing as he does his very best to prolong your orgasm like some kind of torture method. His fingers curl and prod, rolling inside of you as your orgasm rocks your body, a feeling so intense you feel like you are shattering from the inside out.
“Thats it, that's it. Don’t stop.” He keeps kissing you, fucking your cunt with his fingers, squeezing your throat just hard enough you feel like you might have been on the brink of passing out.
Mingi rides you through it, the restraint in his movements starting to slip away the more he sees of you. His hand on your throat moves away and slips beneath your shirt, up and over your smooth stomach, around to the warm skin of your waist. Up until his hand slips beneath your bra and cups the swell of your breast. So soft beneath his calloused palms, he finds that he can’t stop his fingers inside of you, massaging your chest and continuing to fingerfuck you through the overstimulation.
“Wait-” you whine out, interrupted by your own moans. Mingi reaches behind your back and finds the clasp of your bra with more surprising ease. It falls loose beneath your shirt, and he maneuvers your shirt over your head. He catches your surprise, and it only makes his cock twitch at your sweet expression.
“I’m a grown man, (Name).” He speaks against your cheek, slipping the straps of your bra down your arms until it falls onto his floor. “None of this is new to me, baby.” Finally, he slips his fingers out of your cunt, and the slick sound it made was embarrassing. He gives you no time to quell on it as he slides his fingers into his mouth and cleans your mess off him with a hungry moan.
His other hand makes quick work of the buttons of his shirt. One by one, unclipping the silver buttons until it's completely open. As he reaches for his belt, the clank of the metal makes your thighs clench. He cocks his head to the side, running his tongue over his bottom lip.
“Lie down,” he instructs, as he undoes his belt. The dark of the room shrouds his face, and a loud rumble of thunder rolls, much closer this time. You can hardly move at first, your eyes trailing down his body. Toned, the grey and black happy trail that disappears beneath the waistband of his pants is tantalizing.
You swallow and slowly sit on the edge of the bed, but Mingi doesn’t give you the chance to lie back on your own. Once he loosens his belt, he’s leaning over you and caging you in. His hands find your waist as he inches you further up the bed and pushes you onto your back. You stare at the dog tag on his necklace that swings back and forth as he sets you up how he wants.
His thighs, thick and strong, cage either side of your legs as he leans down, his hands massaging up your sides like he was trying to soothe you to sleep. He kisses between the valley of your breasts, down your chest, and along your stomach, all the while his hands make their way further down to the waistband of your shorts, teasing you with his fingers slipping beneath them as he worships your body.
“So soft.” He mumbles between kisses as he slips your shorts down your legs and off onto his floor. “So pretty, so sweet.”
When his fingers hook on your panties, he moans and nibbles on the flesh of your stomach, and your entire body tenses as he slips off the final piece of clothing.
Down your legs, off your feet, and onto the floor. He’s quick to sink to his knees at the edge of the bed, hooking his big, strong arms around your lower waist and pulling you to the edge of the bed, just enough to where your ass nearly hangs off.
He signals you with his hands, making a grabbing motion. You watch and slowly give your hands to him, and he laces his fingers with yours and holds your hands down against your abdomen.
Your thighs hang over his broad shoulders, his face inches away from your dripping cunt, and Mingi’s eyes bore into yours as he places a soft, gentle kiss against your mound.
You whimper in anticipation, and his hands squeeze yours harder, your limbs twitching at his pinning gaze.
“You want my mouth, honey?” He teases, blowing a stream of cold air against you, your thighs twitching around his head.
“Fuck… please?” You beg lowly, and he gently lets his tongue loll out of his mouth, splitting your lips with a low laugh. When you jerk at the feel of his warm tongue, he tugs your hands harder against your stomach and trails his tongue up to circle your clit.
“Stop squirming, and take it for me.” He opens his mouth and takes your sensitive nub into his mouth, running his tongue over it and sucking it like he’s been deprived for months. Which technically wasn’t a lie. He had dreams of your taste, dreamed of the reactions he could drag out of you with his mouth.
Your moans come out high-pitched and cracked, his warm mouth working your poor pussy out like his favorite meal. Obscene, sloppy noises as he fucks you open with his mouth. Detaching from your clit and burying himself between your thighs even further. His nose nudges the nerves while his tongue slips inside of you. Tasting you, drinking you, making you cry like a baby while he ruins you.
“F-fuck… too much-!” You were so sensitive after his fingers fucking you stupid just mere minutes before, and now his thick tongue is filling you like no other, his pretty big nose pressing up against your clit so perfectly it was insane.
He lets go of your hands, just to take both your wrists in one hand while the other flattens against your stomach, trailing down along your inner thigh, before gently sliding between your slick pussy lips.
“Fuck, you taste incredible, such a wet mess.” He wraps his lips around your clit and slides his coated fingers inside of you once again, and your voice shatters when she curls them perfectly. The stimulation of his mouth and the feel of his fingers pressing and kneading, your wrists twist and turn in his grasp, but he makes no move to let you go. He only squeezes tighter. He groans around your clit, and your mouth falls open as the vibrations of his voice send sparks flying in your brain.
Moaning like he could feel it himself, slow, coaxing motions of his fingers against your walls that had your eyes rolling, the tip of his tongue circling your clit just enough to have you tethering that edge.
“Good girl… good girl…” he coos, his voice muffled as he focuses on getting you to cum again. “Feel me, focus on me, pretty baby. God…”
He was getting off on your frantic movements, your endless amounts of arousal that seemed to gush from you. The way you clenched around his fingers when his voice vibrated around your clit.
“You’re right there.” He encourages, shaking his head back and forth against your cunt, your arousal slipping down his chin and coating his lips, the wet slurping sounds so nasty and vile.
“Keep working for me, you're so close.” Mingi talks you through it, pulling away from your clit and littering wet kisses against your tummy. “Rock your hips, tell me what feels good, let me hear you.”
You choke out a broken cry, and he’s tempted to let up just so you can quiet down, but he’s addicted to you, and he couldn’t stop even if he tried.
“U-up..” you stutter out, and he wastes no time. Gently, he moves his fingers inside of you, nudging them upwards a little more. He feels it, your body tense and your cunt clench, and you let out a low groan.
“There… right there…” You exhale, and he presses up against that spot, circling the tip of his fingers against it repeatedly, instead of thrusting them. A constant, mind-numbing pressure that feels so good it hurts.
“Yeah, there we go.” He grits out, bringing his tongue down and flicking it up against your clit in soft kitten licks, a slow light, warm pressure that makes your hips jerk to chase it more.
You try to cry out, beg for more, but the harder his fingers pressed, the less you could remember English. Your breaths were whiny, and your voice kept cracking, and you were so close to cumming again.
“I'm going to count you down, darling.” His low voice pulls a low wail from your chest, and you try to move your hands to grab his head to push him further against you, just to remember he had you restrained.
“You can cum your brains out when I get to one, okay? Can you do that for me?”
You nod your head frantically, your hips bucking against his tongue that oh so gently teases your clit. Mingi smiles and nibbles your sensitive nerves playfully, and then he starts to increase the pressure of his fingertips against your G-spot.
“10.” You cry out when he runs his tongue along your inner thigh, up and down, a teasing motion against the sensitive skin that makes your entire body flare with heat. “9… 8… 7…”
With every number he bites you. Sinking his teeth into your thigh, your stomach, your clit, anything his mouth could reach between your legs. And all the while, his fingers never stop curling.
“6… 5… uh uh. C’mon, baby, get a hold of yourself, not yet.” He feels you clench hard, your moans getting breathy. He knows you’re so close, he can hear it in your tears. But he gave you a command, and he expects you to follow it.
“You can do it… 4.” He wraps his lips around your clit one more time, and this time he lets out long, drawn-out groans that come from deep in his chest, the quiver of his voice stimulating your clit so perfectly you thought you wouldn’t make it.
“3…2… c'mon baby, make it good. Cum yourself stupid for me, okay? For me… please?”
God, when he whines. It hurts your head. You force yourself to breathe, the knot in your stomach tighter than ever. He lets go of your wrists, and immediately, your hands fly and bury themselves in his soft hair. His now free hand snakes underneath your thigh and hikes it further up his shoulder, prying you open as your legs begin to close around his skull.
His tough fingers sink into the soft flesh, and he drags his tongue over your clit in repeated, pressured waves.
“1… go ahead, baby, cum for me. Don’t hold back, give it to me. Let me have you.” You shatter, instantaneously. It hurt, it felt amazing. Your entire body locks up, his hand on your thigh, squeezing so hard it was sure to bruise, his fingers coax and prod, dragging you through it.
He moans around your clit, and you feel like you’ve been shocked with volts of electricity. Your fingers grip his hair at his scalp, the intensity of your orgasm nearly knocking you out.
He laps at your pussy, drinking up the slick that spills from you, and you find yourself limp beneath him, regaining your breath as he cleans you up greedily during the aftershocks. Purely for his own enjoyment, it seems. He could watch you do that all day. He finds himself wondering if you’ve ever squirted before.
He rests back on his haunches, taking in your body below him. Squirming and soaked, begging for his hands and for his mouth.
“You’re so fucking bad for me.” Mingi breathes out in barely controlled disbelief, like your very being was something unhealthy while he was on a diet.
He’s leaning back over you and letting one hand slip around your body, pressing against your lower back to arch you a bit, his other hand unbuttoning his pants with hurried precision.
His lips swallow yours in a hungry moan, tilting his head and kissing you long and deep and frantic, your heavy breaths brushing against each other, his warm tongue running over yours in a cannibalistic kind of hunger.
“You’re making me such a bad, bad man, baby.” Mingi coos into the kiss, and while he’s kissing you into a fever, you feel something warm and heavy press against your stomach. Slowly, he grinds his hips against you, humping his cock against your belly.
You can tell two things immediately. Number one. Mingi was feral. The kiss was all teeth and drool, not giving you one second to breathe. The hand on your back is moving back up and gripping the back of your neck to help maneuver your head in the best way to kiss you as deep as possible.
And two. He felt so fucking huge.
Not to mention the mere size of him as he is, his broad shoulders shielding you from even being able to see the ceiling of his bedroom itself. But you can feel his cock twitch against your flesh. Long, so much so it reaches past your belly button, thick, hot. He was gonna split you in half, there was no doubt about it.
When he finally gives you a moment to breathe, he’s taking his other hand and grabbing the underside of your thigh, lifting it and maneuvering your leg over his shoulder, your ankle resting next to his head.
Spreading you nice and pretty, he reaches back down and grabs the base of his cock, setting it between your drooling lips, twitching against your clit, and you groan loudly into the space.
He gently moves his hips through your folds, a slow, slick glide as he lubes himself up with your arousal, moaning low and deep as he coats himself with you. His hand drags up your body, grabbing every inch of flesh he can before his hand is cupping over your mouth, pressing down nice and hard.
Your eyes widen as his hips never cease their movement, only gliding even smoother the wetter the length of his cock gets. He leans down to press his lips against your ear, and he kisses it lightly, his shaky breath fanning over you.
“Shh…shh.” he coos, and he cock jumps when he feels your moans vibrate beneath his palm. He litters the side of your neck with wet kisses, and your entire body shivers as you realize that no matter what you do, you cannot move.
He has you pinned against his mattress with the strength of his own body, holding you down with his weight. He feels you shake, and he swears he feels your cunt get even wetter, and he’s barely holding back the primal urge to pound you into his bed until you cry for him to stop.
“Not gonna use a condom with you, baby, I’m going to give it to you raw, maybe fuck some manners into your head while I’m at it.” Mingi groans nice and low against your ear, and then he’s finally sinking his cock into you, nice and slow. Stretching your pretty little pussy out as torturously as he can manage.
When you squeal beneath his hand, he shakes his head and leans back, his eyes lock with your watery ones as he clicks his tongue.
“No baby no….” He purrs, but he doesn’t stop sinking into you, pressing his hand further against your drooling mouth. “You have to be quiet, okay? Please?” He begs in a low, whiny tone. You can feel every vein of him graze against your pulsing walls, your tears spill down your cheeks and flow over his knuckles, and he whispers sweet nothings to you as he seems to sink into you endlessly.
“Such a pretty crier, darling.”
“Almost there, just a little more, beautiful slutty girl, taking me so well.”
His fingers are wet with your tears, and he can’t quite bottom out yet; he has to fuck himself deeper into you.
“Alright, I need you to be a good girl for me and keep that pretty mouth shut, I’m gonna fuck you now, okay?” You whine with a broken cry, and he’s pulling his hips back, sliding the length of him out of you, and then sliding right back in with a moan you can feel in your chest. Your legs shake as he pushes himself just a little deeper this time, and your belly feels full of him.
“Yeah, you've been wanting me to mess this pussy up, huh, baby?” Mingi’s free hand finds the base of your throat once more, helping keep you quiet by limiting your airflow. And you tighten around him so much that he has to pause because he physically cannot move any further.
He laughs lowly, and he peeps the way your eyelids flutter, and you seem to have drunk haze over your eyes. One hand over your mouth, so large he practically has your entire jaw in his grip. The other with a grounding hold on your throat, just tight enough to make you a little dumb. His entire body presses down against yours, pinned beneath him, so helpless.
His cock thick, heavy, and deep in your guts, slow, mean strokes that make your drool pool in the back of your throat.
He grins, and then he’s pressing himself deeper into your cunt, and you moan gutturally against his palm.
“Nasty little girl. You like not being able to breathe when I fuck you? Huh?” You don’t answer, of course, just moan and whine as he fucks his cock into you, deep and slow.
Your muscles start to tense from the pressure, your leg straightening over Mingi’s shoulder as the pleasure absolutely sweeps you away beneath his warm body.
“Your legs are locking up, baby.” He murmurs, pressing his lips to the crook of your neck and inhaling deeply. “C’mon, relax, you’re gonna hurt yourself.” He teases you, even while drilling his cock into you like he was insatiable.
Then he’s slipping his hand underneath your knee, bending your leg forward, and pressing it against your chest. You cry out, and suddenly he’s sinking in ever deeper, and you feel so incredibly full. His hand slips away from your mouth for just a moment to hook beneath your other knee, and pushes it up to your chest as well, folded underneath your professor like some kind of doll.
You choke out an overstimulated sob, and once he’s able to hold both your legs down against your body with his chest, his hand is back on your mouth to keep your noises down.
He stops moving his hips and shivers, the new angle having you so much tighter around his cock, and with your knees up to your shoulders, making you look so small, he’s seconds away from losing it.
“S-Sir…” you whine beneath his palm, your cries muffled and your breath hot against his skin. Mingi’s cock jumps inside of you when he feels your voice against his hand, and he drops his head by your neck with a shaky, low moan.
“I’m sorry, pretty baby.” He murmurs in your ear, and then he starts to move again. “It’s okay, you’re okay.”
This time, he’s kissing spots so deep you feel him in your ribcage. His tip scraping that perfect spot that makes your muscles cramp, and your throat catches.
“Am I too big for you?” He smiles against the flared skin of your throat, pulling his hips all the way back, tantalizingly slow enough to force you to feel every thick inch of him stroke in and out of your walls.
He leans away from your neck and looks at you, your eyes fluttering and your nose flaring as he slowly eases into a meaner pace, nearly pounding your cunt like he couldn’t control himself.
“Look at me, baby,” Mingi mumbles softly, and when you don’t respond, he squeezes your jaw harder, and your eyes shoot open. “I said, look at me, right here.” His voice is rougher this time, commanding. Like how he talks to the class when he wants their undivided attention, but this time it’s laced with pure primal need.
Your eyes lock with his, and everything starts to crumble. Your whines break into breathless, sad whimpers, your legs shake even when he’s got them pressed to your chest, your pussy gushes around him as he finds a relentless, deep rhythm, drilling his fat cock into you.
“Holy shit, you’re soaked.” He breathes out, pressing his lips against the back of his hand that covers your mouth. His hips smack against yours, a wet slap of skin with every drag of his hips; you could hardly hear yourself think.
“Good slut… fuckkk- my baby is so needy, hm? Such a selfish pussy.” He’s bullying you now, his swollen lips shiny and wet, then finally he’s taking his hand off your mouth and immediately replacing it with his lips.
Kissing you slow and deep, muffling your cries with his own mouth. His tongue fills your mouth, and your moans vibrate against him, and you feel as he starts to fuck up into you faster, the slaps of skin louder and the pleasure scraping up your spine and rendering you cockdrunk.
“Such a crybaby.” He groans down your throat, his warm chest pressed against your own like a heated cage, nowhere to go, nowhere to hide.
“Mm, just wanna- fuck… just wanna make you feel good.” He sinks his teeth into your bottom lip and almost growls, and you notice he’s starting to get rougher, get meaner. Losing control.
He started to ramble in cracked moans under his breath. “Better than her… p-prettier than her… fuck-! Softer than h-her…”
You hadn’t had half the mind to dwell on his words, but you just knew he must have been talking about his wife. Whether she was in the picture or not, he was still thinking about her. And you hated to admit it, but it sent your ego soaring.
His hands grip the underside of your thighs, pushing your legs harder against your body, then he’s dragging his hips back with a heady growl and pounding you.
Hard, deep thrusts that have you sliding up the mattress, he’s careful enough not to send the headboard flying against the wall, but it’s still enough that it sends your poor little brain into a frenzy.
“Shouldn’t be letting me do this to you.” He breathes through gritted teeth, his messy salt and pepper hair falling over his eyes. He opened his mouth to speak again, but interrupted himself with a broken moan. You felt so fucking good around him, he couldn’t believe it.
A wet, blissful mess under him. Such a smart girl who risked everything she had just to be ruined by a man old enough to be her father. There was no redeeming himself now. And he wasn’t sure that he’d want to.
“Does it feel good? Does my baby feel good here?” His hand gently presses against your lower stomach, where he’s buried inside of you, teasing you with heated questions he knows you don’t have the capacity to answer. You shake and shiver every time his tip kisses that sweet spot.
You’re doing so well, keeping your voice down, struggling to breathe as you try to keep your noises to yourself. And in all honesty, all he wants to do is hear you. He wants to hear you squeal and cry for him, but not while his daughter is home.
“P-please…!” You weep, your hands scrambling to grab something, anything. He doesn’t let you, grabbing both your wrists in his huge hand and lifting your hands above your head.
“Wrap your legs around me.” He bites out, sliding his hand from under your thigh and covering your mouth once again. Your muffled whines flow through his hand as you follow his command, wrapping your shaky legs around his waist as he adjusts the position of his hips so he can put as much force as he can behind his thrusts.
With your wrists pinned above you and your mouth beneath his palm, his gaze burns through your skull, and his eyebrows knit together like he’s focusing. “Shh. Be still, be quiet.”
You whine loudly, and he presses his hand harder against your mouth, shaking his head like he was disappointed.
“No ma’am, you know better.” He groans, sinking his teeth into your shoulder to muffle his own noises as he starts to fuck you so hard it’s like he is trying to force your cunt to mold to his shape.
Resolute, deep, cruel, Mingi uses your body like he is burning from the inside out. Angling his hips upward with every thrust to perfectly graze against your G-spot in a way that had you spiraling forward to your orgasm in record time. Your neck involuntarily cranes backward, and his hand follows your movements, keeping a tight grip on your jaw to muffle you.
Your wrists wiggle in his grasp, your hands shaking and spasming as all you feel is white-hot bliss. Like your entire being was pleasure embodied, and Mingi was working you out so perfectly.
The wet slaps were impossible to mask, the creak of the bed rivaling Mingi’s only thought that swam around his brain.
Break her. Break her. Break her.
You sobbed quietly, and you couldn’t believe this was happening. It all felt too good, and Mingi was way too good at this. It would be easy to get addicted, and it would ultimately be the downfall for you both. But you were too lost in it to care; all you wanted was to cum, and Mingi was getting you there no problem.
“I know baby, I know.” He growls under his breath, and your stomach lurches.
Mingi whines out broken and low curses, dropping his forehead against yours, his body jerking when he feels you tighten around him.
He lifts his eyes to your fucked out ones and kisses the tip of your nose, such a soft gesture, all the while he pounds your pussy to death.
“You cumming beautiful?” He exhales, and you nod frantically beneath his hand. There’s a conflict in his eyes, then he’s leaning down to whisper in your ear.
“I’m gonna move my hand, but you have to be quiet, darling. I want this to be good for you, but you have to breathe through it.”
You weren’t really listening, too focused on your orgasm, the more it coiled in your lower stomach. You nodded, anything to let you cum. Mingi wasn’t buying your eagerness, and he shook his head.
“Look me in the eyes and say you understand.” You force your eyes to lock with his, his hips slowing to a deep grind, your shuddering breaths warming his hand.
Your pleading gaze has him crumbling, and slowly he slips his hand away and grips the front of your throat loose enough you can breathe, but enough to assert control.
“I u-understand!” You cry, your voice a low whimper. “Please, Mingi, I’ll b-be good! I promise…”
Your sweet voice, it makes his cock twitch inside of you, and he grinds so deep into you that your lungs shake.
“Beg.” He snarls, forming his lips into a mocking pout. “Say, ‘Please let me cum, please fuck me through it, please.’ Make it pretty, use your manners.”
Your nose flares, and your cheeks are wet with tears make Mingi’s heart pound.
“Please… let me c-cum.” You whimper, your bottom lip wobbling, every word a drunken slur. “Please, wan’ it so bad… please.”
He smiles greedily, your pleas trailing off into quiet, mindless babbles, while he slips his hand between your melded bodies and finds your clit.
You feel his fingertips press up against it, and a gasp tears from your lungs, your legs tightening around him enough to force his hips to sink his cock deeper into you. Mingi tucks his bottom lip between his teeth drunkenly, circling your clit and grinding his hips into you each time he bottoms out with every powerful thrust.
“Yes. Yes…” You weep pathetically, and with every clench of your cunt, every sweet noise from your mouth, Mingi finds it very hard to push the thought of fucking a baby into you to the back of his mind.
His body craves it, his soul screams at him to fill you up, his cock twitches from the sensitivity of holding himself back. He knows that it would be bad for both of you. Once he lets go like that, he’s going to want to fill you up again, again, again. Until the results are satisfactory and you are round with his child.
He doesn’t want that. He’s sure you don’t want that. His body craves it, his instincts pick up on your young, palpable fertility like he was some kind of animal.
Your legs lock up around him, and your back arches off the bed, so close to that blinding edge. Your hands reach around his claw at his broad back, your nails scratching him up, dragging a wince from his lips.
“M-Mingi-! Oh my god… right there- right there…”
The authoritative honorific long abandoned, your brain clouds over as your orgasm creeps up your neck.
“You got it, sweetheart…” he praises, never stopping the repetitive strokes of his fingers, the filthy grind of his hips. “Cum for me, all over me, please baby…”
He kisses the front of your throat, sucking dark marks into your soft skin and running his tongue flat over them. Repeated begs for you to fall apart on his cock, begging for you to let go.
Your entire body tenses, and then it washes over you in waves; they seem to never stop. He doesn’t stop moving his hips; he starts to fuck you faster. Dragging your orgasm out and taking advantage of how tight you’ve gotten, you cry out and shake violently. Mingi gives you no room to breathe, every slick sound of his cock slipping in and out of you so smoothly, only seeming to help you cum harder.
“That’s it… yeah… c’mon babygirl. Don’t stop. Cum until it hurts.” He smashes his lips with yours and moans loudly down your throat, his tongue invading your mouth with a greedy hunger, fucking you with renewed vigor. His hands slide up and cup your jaw, holding your head still as he kisses you stupid.
Then, your legs tighten around him, you tilt your head, and kiss him deeper. You force his hips against yours, and he sinks deeper into you.
“Inside.” You moan around his tongue, and you could feel his low, gravelly whine against your teeth. “Please.”
“Fuck…” he growls, and the hands on your jaw slip up and splay against either side of your face, holding you like you might try and run from him. “Don’t say that.”
But you double down. “Please, sir. Need you to fuck me full of you… get me all messy.”
Mingi gives you a warning look, his thumb slipping down and pushing against your chin, opening your mouth for him. He opens his mouth and sticks out his tongue, and you watch as a string of spit falls down the tip of his tongue and into your mouth, and your entire body erupts into an uncontrollable shiver.
“You want it?”He grunts, molding his lips with yours and kissing you so nastily, so dirty, you swear you were cumming again. You whisper pleading ‘yes’s’ and whimpering begs for him to fill you up, and you could practically feel the resolve crack in hips. “Gonna make this pussy a fucking mess.”
How could he resist? Mingi’s hips stutter, and his mouth opens against yours, breathing heavily, exhales broken with whines and groans. His pretty eyes half lidded, and his eyebrows pulled together as he shoves himself deep in your cunt one last time before he’s cumming, rolling his hips into you as he shakily moans against your lips, filling your pussy up with him.
Warmth spreads throughout your body, and Mingi’s entire body presses down heavily against yours, his hips grinding against you in slow, repeated motions, making sure not a single drop of him slips out of you.
Your heavy breaths fill the quiet of his room that has fallen, and realization begins to set in. There was no coming back from this.
You weren’t going to drop his class. You weren’t going to quit the babysitting job. You needed both, and Mingi could do without you, no matter what you decide to do.
He could find a new babysitter. It would be one less paper to grade.
But he doesn’t think he would be able to go one day without craving you like some kind of drug.
Slowly, he crawls off of you, his heart still racing. You sit up on your elbows, and immediately you move to gather your clothes, but his hand on your wrist stops you.
“Whoa, whoa, wait. What are you doing?” His gentle, kind voice has returned, and your eyes widen as you freeze in place.
“I’m- I’m getting my stuff…?” You’re confused, and he shakes his head like he was disappointed. He stands up and guides you to stand with him. He towers over you, and his hands, which were so rough with you earlier, caress the sides of your arms.
Up your shoulders and along the marks he littered along your neck. He presses his lips to the top of your head and kisses you softly, inhaling the smell of your shampoo. “Let me take care of you.” He murmurs into your hair, and you exhale shakily.
“Why?” You answer, and he rolls his eyes and scoffs.
“What a stupid question.” He laughs, massaging your shoulders and maneuvering you to walk towards his bathroom.
“I thought you said there was no such thing.” You tease, and he opens the bathroom door before picking you up and setting you on the counter.
“I can be wrong sometimes.” He shrugs, turning around and opening the sliding glass door of the shower. “Don’t let it get to your head.”
While he’s adjusting the temperature of the water, you turn and look at yourself in the mirror. You were an awful wreck. Frizzy hair, sweaty skin, dark marks on every inch of your body. He really did a number on you.
“I am still a gentleman after all.” He smiles and turns to fetch you once again, scooping you up and setting you inside the tub.
“You weren’t acting like one earlier.” You mumble, and he scoops some water in his hand and splashes it on your face. Your mouth falls open in shock, and he raises a warning eyebrow at you.
“Manners, young lady.”
Mingi cleans you up with a soft rag, gently washing you clean with a soap that smells like him. You nearly fall asleep in his arms, strong and grounding as held your body up.
He’s careful with you, like you’re made of glass. Attentive to your sensitive spots. He dries you off like a baby duck, avoiding your hair to not mess it up any further.
Once he’s got you cleaned up, he ushers you downstairs and urges you to eat something while he takes a shower of his own. He ever generously cuts you up a bowl of fruit, wearing nothing but a loose towel around his waist.
That strange domesticity from the first night he had hired you returned tenfold. And you couldn’t pull your eyes away from him while he worked. His damp hair clinging to his skin, his skin shiny and freckled. The tattoos on his body faded and turned green from the years of existence.
He lay you on the couch, gently massaging your ankles while you ate the fruit, a comfortable quiet settling over both.
“You can sleep here, if you want.” He whispers, massaging your calves. His glasses sit on the bridge of his nose, and he glances at you over them. You avoid his gaze, very interested in the pieces of kiwi sprinkled about your bowl.
“I shouldn’t.” You mumble, and you could feel his grip on your calf loosen. You turn and lock eyes with him, and he thinks he would do anything for those pretty eyes you give him.
“We shouldn’t.” You finish, and you move to stand, but he follows you. His hands cup your elbows and pull you close, flush to his chest. His fingers caress the fragile bone in your arms, and he leans his head down to kiss your forehead.
“Just for tonight, you shouldn’t be driving. You can hardly keep your eyes open.”
He kisses your eyelid, trailing chaste smooches down the side of your face until he melts against your lips, breathing deeply as you lean into him.
His hands slide down from your elbows to gently envelop either side of your waist, tilting his head to greedily kiss you deeper.
You sigh into his mouth, and he could feel you relax in his arms. Your hands reach up and wrap around the back of his neck, pulling him further against you.
“Okay.” You whisper, pulling away from his lips. He smiles, the smile lines making your heart flutter in your chest. He kisses the corner of your mouth, then he’s leading you away once again, the half-empty bowl of fruit abandoned on the side table. “Just this once.”
Of course, once would turn into twice. And before you know it, you have a routine with him.
Moments that were spent together in the privacy of his own home gradually transitioned into fleeting touches in the campus library, pushing you up against secluded bookshelves and eating you out to high heaven.
Dragging you to his office after class and bending you over his desk and having you then and there like some kind of animal.
You even went so far as to have him over at your home, riding on the hope that your parents wouldn’t decide to come home early from their date nights.
If the board found out, he’d be terminated effective immediately. If your parents found out? God knows how they would feel.
So you agreed to keep this little secret between you two. His daughter was none the wiser, and she never questioned whenever you chose to stay the night, it only made her happier.
You and Mingi had something. Something good? Something bad? You weren’t sure just yet.
For now, you were having fun. Something someone your age should prioritize. You act like strangers in class, only fleeting looks that were silent promises for what was to come later in the privacy of his home.
These kinds of things were always bound to end in a disaster, and god you prayed it wouldn’t. Just this one time.
You weren’t his girlfriend. You weren’t his wife. You were a placeholder of sorts, a ghost to fill the empty shadow left in the home. You had no place there, but the longer you stayed the more you began to burn your imprint into the floorboards.
The wolf can keep that fawn as a pet for a little while, but its instinct to consume will always outshine later down the road.
And the fawn’s instinct to flee will always be there; it never disappears. However long it chooses to ignore it, will only prolong the pain that will destroy it when it is finally devoured.
content warnings: yeosang is so mean (sorry boo), name calling, degradation, unprotected sex (don’t), hate sex, rough sex, lil bit of manhandling, pet names, lots of begging, lil bit of praise, mentions of pregnancy, creampie
synopsis: you’re so mean to him but he shows you just how mean he can be.
author’s note: this is my first drabble! hope you enjoy! 🥰
you were so fucking annoying. so fucking annoying. and to yeosang’s utter dismay, you always annoyed him because he was always so quiet and so nice. always poking at him, running those pretty acrylics through his hair when he dyed it a pretty new color, flirting with him and then laughing telling him you were joking. yeosang was fucking sick of it. he was sick of you. and he knew exactly how to knock your little ass down a few pegs in ways that weren't so quiet and so nice.
“oooh don’t cry now.” yeosang said as he was drilling you from behind, your mascara running down your brown cheeks. “you weren’t crying when you were being a little bitch now were you?” he asked
“‘m sorry, ‘m so sorry.” you sobbed and all the black-haired man behind you could do is scoff. who knew how much of a little slut you were? your tight pussy squeezing around his dick every time he spat mean words at you.
“sorry? sorry for what?” he asked you and you didn’t answer because, how could you? how could you when he was making sure that the only thing you could think about was his dick inside of you? his hips were smacking roughly against your ass and you were a moaning, babbling mess. “answer me. what are you sorry for?”
once again you didn’t answer. yeosang stopped his movements and flipped your body over so you were laying on your back. he reached down to grab your face and squished your mascara-stained cheeks together.
“i’m not gonna let you cum until you answer my question, baby.” he said and you whined moving your hips trying to get him to move inside of you again but he just squeezed your cheeks together harder. “you are a greedy fucking slut. you think you deserve to cum if you don’t listen?”
finally you spoke in slurred words, “i’m sorry for being mean, sangie. please make me cum. please.”
your words went straight to yeosang’s ego and to his dick. here you were begging for him to get you off, all whiny and drippy. he was satisfied with your answer so he started moving again. the hand he had on your face drifted to your breasts, he squeezed the mounds of flesh and you moaned in pure bliss.
he pushed your legs up and pressed them to your chest as best as he could and continued to bully his dick inside of your pussy. the squelching noises that came from where you both were connected spurred yeosang on. he snapped his hips even harder while you cried out and gripped onto him.
“yeosang, m’ gonna cu—
your orgasm hit you so unexpectedly you couldn’t even finish your sentence before you came hard, your eyes rolling into the back of your head and your vision turning spotty. yeosang fucked you through it, cooing at you.
“that’s right, baby. that’s my good little slut.”
he rutted into you a few more times before he was close to cumming too.
“please cum inside me. i promise i won’t get pregnant. please.” you babbled, looking up at him with your hazy eyes and wet lashes. how could he say no to that?
yeosang spilled inside of you almost instantly, moaning in the process. he pulled out and collapsed on the bed next to you.
“i’ll never be mean again. i promise.” you whispered softly, your voice hoarse from all the screaming you’d been doing for the past thirty minutes.
synopsis: a quiet, secretive serial killer named seonghwa becomes obsessed with y/n, a girl whose genuine happiness he can’t stand, and begins stalking her with the intent to kill her; however, as he watches her and slowly inserts himself into her life, her unexpected calmness and kindness begin to unravel him, forcing him to confront emotions he’s never felt before, until his plan to destroy her turns into a dangerous attachment that blurs the line between fear, control, and love
genre: thriller, fluff(?)
pairing: serial killer!seonghwa x reader
word count: 2k
notes: this is my first post on this account! i hope you enjoy. also this was entirely inspired by @ihaveamassivegun 's stray kids - dear y/n series. so full creds to her, i love her writing. not proofread so sorry for any spelling mistakes!
the first time seonghwa noticed you, it wasn’t anything dramatic.
no thunder. no cinematic slow motion. no ominous music swelling in the background. just a laugh.
you were standing outside a convenience store, sunlight spilling over your shoulders, head tilted back slightly as if the world had just told you a secret worth keeping. the sound of your laughter, light, unguarded, almost careless, cut through the noise of passing cars and murmuring voices.
seonghwa stopped walking.
he didn’t mean to. his body simply refused to move forward.
because you were… happy.
it wasn’t a fleeting smile or a polite social gesture. it was something deeper. something that lived in your bones. something real.
and seonghwa hated it.
he told himself that was why he followed you. not curiosity. not fascination. certainly not longing.
just necessity. a correction. seonghwa had always believed happiness was a flaw in the human design. a weakness. people who felt too much joy were careless, blind to the rot underneath everything. they trusted too easily. they laughed too loudly. they lived like nothing could ever touch them.
they were wrong. and seonghwa liked to fix things that were wrong.
the first night he followed you home, you didn’t notice him. of course you didn’t. you walked through the quiet streets with earbuds in, humming softly under your breath. every now and then, you’d look up at the sky like you expected the stars to look back at you.
seonghwa stayed just far enough behind, always in shadow. always out of reach.
he noted everything. the rhythm of your steps, the way you checked your phone every few minutes, the slight pause before you crossed the street even when no cars were coming.
habits. patterns. weaknesses.
you lived alone. that made things easier. he didn’t break in that night. seonghwa wasn’t impulsive, he didn’t rush. every act required precision, patience, intention.
instead, he stood across the street, watching your apartment window. your silhouette moved behind the curtains. slow. ordinary. unaware. alive. his fingers twitched slightly.
soon.
days passed, then weeks.
seonghwa learned everything about you without ever speaking a word.
you woke up at 7:12 every morning. not 7:10. not 7:15. always 7:12. you liked your coffee too sweet. you worked at a small bookstore, the kind that smelled like paper and dust and comfort.
you talked to customers like they mattered. you smiled at strangers. you smiled a lot, it irritated him more than it should have.
he started following you more closely. closer than necessary. sometimes just a few steps behind. close enough to hear the soft sound of your breathing when you stood still. close enough to notice the way your shoulders tensed slightly when someone brushed past you.
you weren’t as unaware as he first thought. that made it interesting.
The first time you almost saw him, it was raining. you stood under the awning of the bookstore, waiting for the storm to pass. your hair clung slightly to your face, and you looked smaller somehow. more human.
seonghwa stood across the street, half-hidden behind a lamppost. you glanced up.
for a moment—just a moment—your eyes met his.
something flickered across your expression. not recognition. not fear. just curiosity. then a car passed between you, and when the view cleared, you were gone.
seonghwa didn’t move for a long time.
that night, he changed the plan. originally, it was simple. quick. clean. efficient.
you would disappear like all the others. no trace. no story. just another quiet correction in a broken world.
but now…
now he wanted to understand you first. he started leaving things. small things.
a flower on your doorstep. a book you had mentioned wanting, placed carefully near your window. a note once— just a single word:
“smile.”
you found them. he watched you find them. the confusion. the hesitation. the slight unease creeping into your expression.
but you didn’t stop smiling. even then. especially then. it made something in his chest tighten.
you told someone about it.
he saw you talking on the phone one night, pacing your apartment. your voice was soft, but he could read your lips.
“it’s weird, but," you paused for a moment "not scary.”
seonghwa tilted his head slightly. not scary? you should have been afraid. you should have locked your doors, closed your curtains, changed your routine. but you didn’t.
you kept living like the world was kind. like nothing was watching you. like nothing ever would. he broke into your apartment three nights later.
not to kill you. not yet. just to see.
you were asleep. curled slightly on your side, one arm tucked under your pillow. your breathing was steady, peaceful. seonghwa stood at the foot of your bed. this was the moment.
it always felt the same. stillness. control. the quiet certainty that someone’s life was balanced delicately in his hands.
he had done this before. many times. different faces, different homes, same ending. but this time he didn’t move.
you looked fragile. not weak. just… real.
there was a faint crease between your brows, like you were dreaming about something that mattered. something unresolved. people like you weren’t supposed to have that.
you were supposed to be simple. happy. untouched by the darker edges of the world. but maybe he had been wrong.
your hand shifted slightly in your sleep.
seonghwa froze.
you murmured something under your breath and he leaned closer without thinking.
“stay…” the word was soft. barely there. but it hit him harder than anything else ever had. stay? you weren’t talking to him. you couldn’t have been and yet his chest felt tight again. uncomfortable. unfamiliar. he left without touching you.
that was the first time he failed to complete something he had started. he told himself it didn’t matter, it was just a delay. just adjustment.
but the next time he entered your apartment, he stayed longer. and the next time after that, even longer. he learned the quiet sounds of your space. the hum of your refrigerator. the creak of the floor near your window. the soft rhythm of your breathing as you slept.
he sat in your chair once. touched the spine of your favourite book. ran his fingers lightly over the edge of your desk. everything about your life felt warm, messy, alive. it made his skin feel too tight.
you started noticing things. objects slightly out of place, the faint scent of something unfamiliar, a window that didn’t quite latch the way it used to.
this time, when you spoke on the phone, your expression was different.
“i think someone’s been in here.”
seonghwa watched from across the street. our voice trembled slightly.
finally.
fear.
that was how it was supposed to be. but even then you didn’t leave. instead, you changed. subtly.
you locked your doors more carefully. checked your windows twice. paused longer before turning off the lights.
but you still smiled, still laughed, still lived. it confused him. no, it frustrated him. you were supposed to break that was how this worked. that was how it always worked.
the night everything changed, you were awake when he entered. seonghwa didn’t realize it at first.
you lay still in bed, facing away from him, your breathing slow and even. he stepped closer, silent, careful controlled.
“are you going to keep watching or finally say something?” your voice cut through the darkness. calm, clear, not afraid.
seonghwa stopped and for the first time in years, he didn’t know what to do.
you sat up slowly, turning to face him. the room was dim, but not dark enough to hide him completely.
your eyes met his. no panic, no screaming. just... understanding.
“i knew it,” you said softly. silence stretched between you. heavy. unsteady.
“you’ve been following me for weeks,” you continued. “the gifts, the notes, the presence.” a small pause.
“Why?”
seonghwa opened his mouth. closed it again.
why? he had never needed a reason before. not one he could explain.
“…you were too happy,” he said finally. the words sounded strange out loud, even to him.
you blinked “…what?”
“you shouldn’t be,” he continued, his voice steadier now. “people like you… it’s not real, it doesn’t last.”
a faint crease formed between your brows "you were going to kill me because i smile too much?”
“yes.”
the honesty hung in the air like something fragile, breakable.
and then you laughed, not loudly, not mockingly, just softly. almost incredulously.
“that’s” you shook your head slightly. “that’s the worst reason i’ve ever heard.”
seonghwa frowned "you’re not afraid.”
“i probably should be,” you admitted. “but you’ve had so many chances. you didn’t take them.”
his jaw tightened "that doesn’t mean I won’t.”
you studied him for a moment, really looked at him, not the shadow, not the threat. him.
“you don’t want to,” you said quietly. the words hit harder than they should have. seonghwa stepped closer "you don’t know anything about me.”
“then tell me,” you replied. another pause, longer this time.
“i don’t feel things,” he said finally. you tilted your head slightly "everyone feels things.”
“not like you.”
silence again. you shifted slightly on the bed, pulling your knees closer “…what if i showed you?” his expression hardened, "that’s not how it works.”
“then why are you still here?”
he didn’t have an answer, and that terrified him more than anything else ever had.
days turned into something else after that, not normal, not safe, but different.
seonghwa didn’t stop watching you. but now sometimes, you watched him back. you started leaving things too, cup of coffee on the windowsill, a note: "you should try this. it’s too sweet but you might like it.”
he didn’t touch it the first time. or the second.
but the third time he did.
it was too sweet just like you said and for some reason he didn’t hate it. he still told himself this would end. it had to. people like him didn’t change, didn’t soften, didn’t fall.
but every time you smiled at him. really smiled, like you weren’t afraid of what he was something inside him shifted, just slightly. just enough.
the night he realized it, he was standing in your apartment again. you were awake sitting cross-legged on the floor, reading.
you didn’t look up when he entered. “you’re late,” you said.
late. like he was expected.
like he belonged.
seonghwa exhaled slowly "i was going to kill you.” you turned the page, "i know.”
“I still might.”
you finally looked up and smiled, "then why haven’t you?” he stepped closer. closer than ever before. close enough to see the tiny details in your expression. the softness, the warmth, the life.
“because you make me feel something,” he said quietly.
your smile didn’t fade "good,” you replied. and for the first time in his life, seonghwa wasn’t sure if that was a good thing,
or the most dangerous thing that had ever happened to him.
warnings: forced orgasm, singular spank, hair pulling, dirty talk, jealousy(?), d/s dynamics, degradation (he’s a lil mean), overstimulation, Sir title is used, Seonghwa calls reader a bitch in heat once, reader passes out for like a minute or two (but is fine), i think that's it? If i miss something lmk!
author's note: the wheel has spoken again, and it paired Seonghwa with Forced Orgasm, so here we are! This one came out more intense than I intended, but this is what I got soooo I hope you enjoy! Pardon any typos, i am only human.
taglist: @aaa-sia @sugarbabymingi
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There was no other way for this to end.
Seonghwa had been so busy lately, and you were pretty sure you were ovulating or close to it because you were so fucking horny you could not think straight— but any time you did try to come onto your boyfriend, he would turn you down for various reasons.
Too tired. Too late. Not enough time. Tomorrow night.
You wouldn't push it out of respect, but you were craving stimulation. You couldn't stop thinking about being bent over and fucked until you were incoherent and foggy-brained, but it just wasn't happening no matter what sets you wore around him or what filth poured from your mouth. You were teetering into brat territory and your tongue has a history of getting you into hot water. Inevitably it would, but even you couldn't foresee the audacity you'd suddenly grow to utter what landed you in your current situation.
You were snuggled with Seonghwa on the couch, watching a movie with your legs in his lap and your head on his shoulder. He was back a little earlier than usual, so you thought to try your luck again. Surely this time he would go for it, right?
You gently kiss his neck, making a path up to his ear, but before you could finish, he gently pulls his head away from you ever so slightly. Your pout is immediate as he turns to look at you.
"I really wanna see this movie babe, not right now."
The request is simple really, but you weren't trying to hear it. You were at your wits' end, and you wanted someone's hands on you— Seonghwa's hands to be specific, but if he didn't wanna fucking do it, then you're sure someone else will. That thought is what pushes you to stand up quickly and speak before your brain can kick in to stop you.
"Fine. I'll just call Mingi, someone who may actually put a fucking baby in me like my body wants." You reply, frustration laced in your words as you borderline stomp off to your shared bedroom.
Once the door slams shut behind you, you realize how deep a hole you dug yourself into.
If you had told Seonghwa you were ovulating, chances are he might have understood and given you what you wanted without further discussion. He was always willing to work with you, hear you out, be as understanding as possible, so long as you gave him a chance to. Instead, you let your frustration build and win over your logical mind and blurted out something you didn't even wholeheartedly mean. It was just to get under his skin.
Seonghwa has shared you with Mingi on several occasions but with the set rules of: he must be present when anything is happening, and Mingi cannot cum inside of you. Two simple rules— both of which your words would directly violate. Seonghwa doesn't hate many things, but a broken rule? That was definitely on that short list.
A correction was unavoidable, and while that could sometimes scratch an itch, that wasn’t quite the itch you had right now.
So when the door opens behind you, you turn on your heels and immediately start stuttering an apology, hoping to extinguish the fire you so mindlessly started.
"I-I'm sorry, babe. I'm just really pent up and I shouldn‘t have said that, I didn't-"
Seonghwa shushes you gently, a smile on his face that doesn't meet his eyes.
"No, no. I'm sorry, doll." He replies, his voice soft and slightly chilly in a way that unsettles you as he walks over to you.
"For...what?" You ask as his hand cups your cheek and his sharp eyes look over your face before slowly moving down your body.
"For slacking as much as I have been. Clearly, you've forgotten your manners."
His detached tone shouldn't make a dull throb appear between your legs, and yet you can feel the telltale signs of arousal peeking its head, even with your stomach dropping. You lean into his touch, eagerly chasing what you had been craving for days. Your eyes flutter shut for a moment before a harsh grab at the hair on the back of your neck makes them snap open to look your boyfriend in his eyes.
"Allow me to remind you. Strip, get on the bed, assume the position. Don't make me repeat myself." Seonghwa commands with a heat in his lowered tone that makes your legs go weak.
He uses the grip on your hair to push you toward the bed, a hardened edge to his face as he crosses his arms over his chest and waits for you to listen.
Yeah. You fucked up.
----
"Don't run from it, baby. Isn't this what you wanted?"
Seonghwa's voice sounds like it's miles away from you, despite knowing he is right behind you, plowing into you with an iron grip on your hips. Your head is swimming in a fog of pleasure that's frying all your nerves to nothing. The sheets underneath you are drenched in your sweat, tears, and drool. Your throat is hoarse from yelling, moaning, and pleading for mercy. Mercy you weren't granted for even a second as Seonghwa reminded you of exactly why you're with him.
"You said you wanted a baby fucked into you. Then take it." Seonghwa hisses through gritted teeth, watching his cock drive into you, a white ring at the base showing just how much cum he's pumped into you since he's started fucking you.
It wasn't often Seonghwa would be mean to you in bed, but the times he was, you were always left in pieces. Broken, mindless, fucked out pieces. Tonight would be no exception.
A sound somewhere between a cry and a whimper leaves you when you feel his fingers dip to circle your sensitive clit again. Your nerves protest against the surge of pleasure that bordered on pain, body wiggling to try and escape his hand, but Seonghwa doesn't allow it— his free hand moving to the back of your neck and a foot planting on the bed next to your leg to give him even more leverage to thrust his hips harder into your messy, cum-filled core.
You try to stammer out another apology, probably your 20th one that night, and again it doesn't deter Seonghwa even a little bit. He tuts as he shakes his head.
"Sorry won't cut it, doll. You need a long, hard lesson." He punctuates his last word with a hard slap to your ass, and you cry into the sheets beneath you, "Throwing another man in my face as if I'm not the reason you have that option. An option I can rip away from you at any point, do you understand me?"
"Yes!" You wail in response as the added leverage has your eyes rolling into the back of your head.
"Yes, what?"
"Yes, Sir!"
"Oh, so you do still have some manners in you." Seonghwa laughs breathlessly, lightly pinching your engorged clit between his fingers and reveling in the squeal that comes out of you.
"Mingi can't fuck you like this, can he?" Seonghwa growls out the question with a harsh thrust of his hips that makes your body jolt and your brain go completely blank.
All you can do is dumbly drool onto the sheets as overstimulation overtakes all your senses. Seonghwa, however, wouldn't take that for an answer. He drives into you hard one last time before his grip moves from your neck to your hair, pulling your upper half up until you're arching back toward him, head resting on his shoulder with his lips at your ear, hot and heavy.
"I said, Mingi can't fuck you like this, can he?" Seonghwa repeats his question as he rocks his hips into you slowly, his cock nudging at your deepest spots.
His change of pace allows you to finally speak, so between pants and soft hiccups, you reply as well as your fucked out mind would let you.
"N-No, Sir."
"Right. And you know why?" Seonghwa rasps, hips slowly pulling back before driving back into you full force, and you wail loud enough that you're shocked Seonghwa didn't flinch away, "Because he can't."
Before you can process exactly what he means, Seonghwa starts up his brutal pace again, grip on your hair and hips unrelenting as he keeps you in the perfect place to take his cock.
"Because I am in control of both of you. I speak, you listen, or have you forgotten in your need to be fucked like a bitch in heat?" Seonghwa spits the words harshly in your ear, and your only response is cries of overstimulation, "He only knows how to fuck you because I taught him. Don't forget, doll. I may only watch sometimes, but I'm still in control even if I'm sitting in a chair across the room. I can cut it off just as fast as I brought him in, since you can't seem to act right."
"S-Sorry! I'm sorry-" More apologies slip from your lips, but this time Seonghwa covers your mouth with his hand, silencing you.
"If you're really sorry, you'll cum for me again and only speak my name when you do."
You shake your head quickly at that. You couldn't cum again. You had nothing left, he's wrung it all out of you. One more orgasm would kill you, at least it felt that way. Yet Seonghwa's hands move from your hair and hip to your nipple and clit, tweaking both with his fingers as he keeps fucking you like he hated you— and with the way your eyes filled with tears, part of you wondered if he did.
It doesn't take long for that familiar tightening to appear in your lower stomach and your body trembles against Seonghwa's. He wraps an arm around your waist to keep you in place as your orgasm comes at you too fast for your brain to process and your jaw drops, no sound coming out of your throat as everything goes black.
Sore doesn't even begin to describe how you feel as consciousness slowly returns to you. Your eyes crack open and you're lying on your back, a fan blowing gently on your face as Seonghwa cleans up your body with a towel.
"Welcome back, doll. Lost you for a bit there." Seonghwa's voice is gentle, the way you're used to it being, as he smiles softly at you.
You weakly smile back, your body still protesting being conscious in this very moment. Seonghwa tosses the towel aside as he crawls next to you and pulls you into his arms. He peppers your head with soft kisses, a silent apology for his behavior.
"I went a little harder than I meant to. I'm sorry. I just...didn't like you throwing Mingi in my face." Seonghwa whispers into your hair, shame laced in his tone as he squeezes you gently.
"I'm sorry for even mentioning Mingi. I shouldn't have done that. I just really wanted you. Ovulation is a bitch." You look up at Seonghwa as he chuckles softly.
"I'll trust your word on it since I wouldn't know. Rest up a bit, then we can shower, okay?"
You nod, eyes fluttering shut and you're out like a light within seconds— exhaustion in your bones and a deep satisfaction in your buzzing body at finally getting your back cracked.
genre: smut (cute bits at the end, in typical me fashion)
word count: 8.8k (at least it's not longer than Yeo's lmao)
summary: When Yunho’s attitude sours during what should be a relaxing vacation for you and the boys, you take it upon yourself to see what’s got him so wound up. The problem? He has an itch that isn’t being scratched, an oral fixation that needs to be sated and his usual tricks aren’t working well enough. Of course helping your best friend find a solution was the obvious answer, but what started as simple help becomes a very slippery slope.
warnings: big dick!Yunho, Yunho has an oral fixation, oral sex (f receiving), p in v, unprotected sex (don't, pls wrap it up), overstimulation, fingering, finger sucking, nipple play (f receiving), markings (hickeys), dacryphilia, minor hair pulling, Yunho calls reader: sweetheart (mostly), brat (once), i think that's it? If i miss something lmk!
author's note: back at it again with Yunho this time! This one took me a little to find my flow, but I managed to get it down and ready to release for y'all this week <3 We're in the latter half of this series which is insane, I just wanna thank you guys so much for the support you've been giving me, it means so so much! I hope you enjoy this installment! Five down, 3 to go! Happy reading! also i proofread but i prob missed things so ignore typos, sorryyyy
Update 12/23/25: I've posted an epilogue/aftermath for this piece, which can be found here!
series masterlist | main masterlist
Keeping up with 8 men was a hard enough task. Keeping up with Ateez? Even harder.
You'd think the idol schedules would suck all the energy out of them and make them really mellow on their time off, but you were very wrong about that if your current predicament was anything to go by.
You were currently lying on your back on the couch in the very spacious cabin Hongjoong had rented for a week and a half, and your body was not happy with the amount of moving you've been doing the past couple of days. Jet skiing, swimming, rock climbing, long hikes to gorgeous waterfalls and other breathtaking focal points— it was all a lot of fun, but even with the more relaxed day of board games and group painting on the back patio thrown into the mix, it wasn't enough rest for your body to not wake up this morning and immediately protest any ideas involving moving.
You drag yourself to the kitchen and take a seat at the island, watching the chaos of Wooyoung yelling at Mingi and Yeosang to get out of his cooking space or he'd hit them with the skillet he was using to make pancakes. Meanwhile, Jongho stole eggs from the plate sitting off to the side while the chef was distracted.
You feel a hand on your shoulder and turn to see Seonghwa walking into the kitchen with a sigh. He squeezes your shoulder in greeting with a sleepy smile before immediately herding Mingi and Yeosang back to the living room, distracting them with talks of the day ahead.
"So Yeosang, I ended up calling that place you mentioned with white water rafting and we're set to ride the rapids at 2!"
Seonghwa's voice floats into the kitchen from the living room and you turn your head in time to see Mingi cheer and a smile spread on Yeosang's face.
Rough water plus your tender body didn't seem like an equation that would work, and Seonghwa could tell from the face you unknowingly make.
"Not feeling it, doll?"
"Oh, sorry." You laugh sheepishly, "Didn't mean for it to show. I'm just a bit tired."
"That's fair. Don't worry about it, you can stay back today if you want, you won't be the only one anyway."
You furrow your brows in confusion as Hongjoong and San make their way down the stairs to join for breakfast. You do a quick headcount and come up short one person.
"Yunho?" You turn back to Seonghwa who nods.
"He's been in a mood all morning. Woke up with a scowl, I swear." Mingi chimes in from his spot on the couch, swiping through something mindlessly on his phone, "Told me to set his plate aside and leave him out of plans for today."
You frown at this news, a small inkling of worry wiggling it's way into your mind. You did notice that once you all came back in from the hike to the waterfall yesterday, he beelined it right to his room instead of staying downstairs to chat with everyone while dinner was made— but you chalked it up to exhaustion and him just wanting some time to himself. An assumption that was clearly wrong considering what Mingi just told you. You flip through yesterday in your head, trying to pinpoint what could've made him so irritable, but nothing comes to mind. Nothing out of the ordinary happened.
"Maybe you can check in on him, Y/N? He's always had a soft spot for you." Yeosang suggests, resting his elbows on his knees.
"Yeah, maybe I will once you guys head out. Leave a plate for me, I'm gonna shower." You stand up and stretch a bit, groaning as you hear several cracks ring out from your body before you relax.
"You got it, grandma!" Wooyoung calls from the kitchen, breaking out into loud laughter when you give him a death glare.
Refusing to give him the satisfaction of a reply, you head back upstairs— hoping a long, warm shower would be the thing to help ease your muscles.
Half a playlist later, you shut off the water and step out of the wet chamber that had become your sanctuary for the past 50 minutes. The boys were really sweet giving you the room with the ensuite bath— at first you turned it down, but now you were grateful that it only took you about 10 steps before you could faceplant into your soft bed. You listen to the hustle and bustle outside your bedroom door of everyone getting ready to head out for the day, and though you don't mean to, your eyes slip shut. Perhaps it was the really warm shower, or the soft robe you put on, or the softness of the mattress underneath your body, but one moment you're resting your eyes and the next the house is dead silent. You crack your eyes open, a yawn leaving you as you sit up and glance at the clock on the bedside table.
1:32 PM. You must've fallen asleep. Shit.
No doubt the boys had already left for the rapids, meaning you were here alone.
Wait, no, Yunho. Yunho was also here.
Your brain replays Mingi's words from this morning and you glance at your door, knowing Yunho and Mingi's room was right across from yours. Yeosang did task you with finding out what was up with him, now is a good a time as any.
Once you put on some actual clothes, of course.
You toss on the first oversized shirt, pair of panties, and sleep shorts you find in your drawers then make your way over to Yunho's door, putting an ear to it and try to listen for any sounds.
Silence.
You knock softly and wait for a response.
"I said I'm good. Go without me." Yunho speaks loudly to make sure his message gets through the door.
The monotone tone of his voice was foreign, a frown forming on your face at how wrong it felt to hear him like that.
"It's me. I stayed back too. Do you want to hang out just us? We can watch a movie while we eat breakfast or something. I wasn't feeling too sporty after yesterday's hike so..." You trail off, rocking back and forth on your heels as you wait for a reply.
There's silence for a moment before Yunho replies.
"I'm good."
The rejection shouldn't sting as much as it does. He has the right to say no, but he's never once told you no when you've asked him to hang out. Yunho was always the one super excited to spend time with you, so for him to turn you down in such a disinterested tone felt like a slap to the face.
"Oh..." You reply, cursing mentally when your voice cracks, "Okay. Sorry."
You turn and walk away from the door, body on autopilot as you go back to your room and shut the door behind you. Now that you were there, you didn't know exactly what you wanted to do. Eventually, you settle on laying in bed and turning on the TV, no longer feeling hungry despite knowing a plate awaits you downstairs.
Who needs Yunho anyway?
You swallow down the sad lump in your throat. Whatever. You'd enjoy some time alone, there was too much testosterone in the house anyway. You're ten minutes into a random action film when you hear a knock on your door. Your eyes dart to it, confused as to who could be there since Yunho was shut up in his room. Maybe one of the boys changed their mind and came back?
"Come in." You call out softly as you sit up.
The door opens slowly and in pops Yunho's head, looking at you like a puppy who got into something it shouldn't have and was now pleading for forgiveness.
"Hey..."
His voice drips with guilt and you fight the urge to forgive him too quickly. He had been rudely dismissive, he couldn't just come around with his big eyes and pathetic tone and expect to be immediately forgiven. You give him a light glare as you pull your blanket more on you.
"Hi."
An awkward silence settles in the air, the only sounds being the car chase happening on the TV you had completely forgotten about.
"Can I come in?"
"Oh, am I worthy of your time now?" You deadpan and Yunho sighs softly as he closes his eyes.
"I deserved that."
You hum in agreement, turning back to the TV as Yunho steps into the room and shuts the door behind him. He was in sweatpants and a loose tanktop with a lollipop hanging between his lips. He pushes the lollipop into his cheek as he walks over and sits on the edge of the bed, watching the action scene with you for a moment before he speaks again.
"I'm sorry for brushing you off like that. I've just been...in a mood lately."
"Yeah I noticed, that's why I came to check on you. Are you not having fun?"
Yunho turns to you with widened eyes, as if even the implication that he didn't wanna be here was appalling.
"I am! I love being with all of you, you know that. It's just..." He trails off, averting his gaze back to the TV.
"Just...?" You echo, hoping he'll continue what he was about to say.
Yunho sucks on the lollipop for a moment before he pulls it out of his mouth and rolls the stick between his fingers, watching it glisten in the light from the TV.
"I have this...habit?" He tests the word out, making a face as he realizes it doesn't fit what he means, "Urge? Yeah, urge. An urge that I can't sate while I'm out here. I thought I'd be fine but it's starting to get to me and make me irritated."
You tilt your head, thinking over what Yunho is sharing. He has an urge he can't sate and it's making him moody. What kind of urge could have that big of a hold on him and his mood?
"Is it a gaming thing?" You ask, taking a shot in the dark.
Yunho huffs out a humorless laugh.
"I fucking wish. Would be easier to deal with if it was."
"Okay then, what is it?"
Yunho's cheeks start turning red as he puts the lollipop back in his mouth and rolls it around his tongue for a moment, thinking to himself before he responds.
"No judgment?"
"Is that even a question? You're my best friend. I wouldn't ever judge you, nothing you say will make me look at you differently." You say surely with a warm smile, scooting closer to put an arm around his shoulder.
Yunho gives you a grateful smile before he pulls the candy out of his mouth again.
"You know what an oral fixation is?"
The question makes your brain stutter for a moment as you blink at your best friend a few times.
Okay— that wasn't what you were expecting.
"Yeah...I do." You nod slowly, brows creasing in confusion.
Where was he going with this? You follow his gaze down to the lollipop and the gears in your head start turning. Yunho had been chewing gum, sucking on candies, and chewing on straws in his water bottles this whole trip. You didn't think much of it, but with this question it was starting to make sense.
"You have an oral fixation...and the things you brought to curb it aren't working enough?" You speak slowly, piecing it together as you go.
Yunho sighs deeply as if a weight has been lifted off his shoulders as he nods his head.
"It's getting to the point where I'm getting irritable and I hate it but I also can't help it. I'm so used to having someone sate it that I never imagined it becoming this much of an issue for me."
Yunho runs a hand through his hair, putting the candy back into his mouth and bitterly biting at it.
"Self-soothing isn't working, and whoever you have sate it is obviously not here with us." You say, Yunho nods to affirm what you said.
"So...I'm almost scared to ask. How do you usually sate it?" You ask and a small smile tugs at Yunho's lips.
"I'm sure you can imagine the ways one can use their mouth on someone. I'm not picky as long as it's someone else's, can't explain why but my own fingers and stuff don't do it for me like someone else's fingers."
You nod in understanding, mind running a mile a minute as you process the information Yunho is sharing.
"So sucking on someone else's fingers could help?"
Yunho's eyes light up like a Christmas tree at the mere thought and you fight the urge to giggle at him.
"Absolutely." He confirms, "God, I'd kill for that right now."
The thought is one you shouldn't entertain, but you have at least 5 more days out here and you really didn't want Yunho to be miserable and in his room for most of it. So regardless of the warning bells in your mind, you still let the thought fall from your lips.
"Then you can suck on mine if you want."
You hear a loud crunch as Yunho bites straight through the lollipop, a chunk flying out of his mouth and to the floor but neither of you acknowledge it as your words hang in the air. He turns his head to you with a look of pure shock.
"W-What? You really mean that?"
His wide eyes hold a level of joy you've only seen when he's fresh off the stage or just ranked up in a game. There was no way in hell you'd take it back when he was looking at you like you held the answer to all his problems. You nod with a small shy smile.
"It's just fingers. A small favor if it means you'll go back to enjoying the trip. Plus it's only us home so no worries of the guys seeing it." You reason, shrugging a bit despite how your heart thumps against your chest.
"I owe you. So much. Seriously, thank you."
Yunho gives you a big hug, his gratitude is clear in how tight he squeezes and rocks you side to side lightly before he gets up to throw his lollipop stick away. You watch him for a moment before your eyes flicker back to the movie on the TV. The loud explosions and gunshots should serve as the perfect distraction as Yunho got his urges out of his system.
You lay back, propping your head up on two pillows so you can easily see the TV while comfortable. Yunho makes his way over, settling in the bed next to you and resting his head on your tummy as he curls into your side. It's a little amusing seeing such a tall man curl up on you like this, but he was clearly comfortable in how he hums in satisfaction and relaxes against the bed.
"Oh, I do want to warn you that I may drool a bit. So if you want me to like...move your shirt out the way so I don't stain it, just let me know." Yunho says as he tilts his head back to look up at you.
It isn't that you didn't hear his question, it's that your brain needed a minute to truly take in what Yunho's said. He's rested against your bare skin before, usually shoulders or putting his chin in your neck but nothing to do with your stomach. It felt strangely intimate but also the thought of spit soaking into your shirt wasn't appealing, it would be easier to clean your skin. So you nod to show it was okay and Yunho gently pushes your shirt up before resting his cheek on your bare stomach and facing the TV in front of both of you. His warmth was pleasant despite the odd circumstances that led here so you find yourself relaxing into the bed easily as you move your right hand to gently pet his head like you always do. You feel his cheek shift up as he smiles at your gentle affection, relaxing further into your side.
"Whenever you're ready." Yunho hums softly, eyelids starting to feel heavy with how comfortable he was.
He couldn't help it, the puppy jokes weren't too off base considering how much he likes it when you rub his head. There's a light flutter in your stomach as you slowly move your left hand to his face. Yunho parts his lips, gently taking your wrist and putting your pointer and middle finger into his mouth. The sensation was foreign, a bit weird considering you've never had someone do this to you before, but the content sigh that leaves Yunho as his lips wrap around your fingers makes you suck it up and endure the weird feelings that were settling into you. Instead you try to hone in on the movie in front of you, watching the main character make a speech to his team about whatever dangerous mission they were going to embark on.
Perhaps if you could've spoken to Yunho it would've been easier to take your mind off what's currently happening, but his mouth was occupied which means you were left to sit with only your thoughts and the soundtrack of the movie playing on the TV.
The former was extremely unhelpful.
No matter how much you try to focus on the high intense scenes playing in front of you, your brain chooses to focus on how Yunho's tongue gently swirls around the pads of your fingers with a practiced ease that made your stomach flip. How he sucks so tenderly and sometimes bites down softly before he swallows around them. How every so often you'll hear a slurp of him trying to keep his drool in his mouth and it makes your thighs clench involuntarily. How his thumb rubs circles on your wrist right over your pulse point which you're sure is broadcasting that your heart is racing. How his breathing has gotten slightly heavier and though his tongue's movements were lazy, his eagerness for your digits is clear in how he has yet to let go of your wrist, as if he's scared you'll pull his salvation away.
It was an agony you had no idea was coming when you agreed to something that seemed simple. Your mind wanders to how his tongue would feel elsewhere, with each swipe of his tongue a spark of arousal finds its way into your body until a dim fire is simmering right between your thighs. Thank God Yunho couldn't see your face at this angle, you can't imagine you were able to hide how you were feeling now, especially with your nipples annoyingly poking through your shirt in a way that your best friend would likely instantly notice the moment he looked up at you.
How would you get out of this situation in a way that wasn't extremely awkward? Logically speaking, you knew Yunho was respectful enough to not point out your hard nipples even if he did notice them. If anything he'd just thank you for the help and hug you before returning to his room and you both pretend this never happened.
But what if logic wasn't what controlled you in this moment?
A once small desire has bubbled into a bigger problem, gripping at your resolve and weakening it to the point of winning you over. It had been a while since you've gotten off, even longer since you'd gotten off with a partner, and you had been yearning for it for a while. You didn't think you'd ever put your best friend in the position of fulfilling that yearn but with each suckle on your fingers, he was looking more and more like the perfect fit for it. You squirm lightly with the next swallow around your fingers, clearing your throat to speak.
"How are you feeling?"
Yunho perks up, tilting his head back to look at you. You watch his gaze land on your tits before they lifted to your face, a haze in his eyes you've never seen before. He smiles at you, slurping before letting go of your fingers with a pop.
"Amazing. You?" He asks, voice dropped into an octave that made your heart skip.
That dangerous want rears its head harder than before, whispering at you to let the lines blur for just this one time. Who could pass up a tongue like that?
"I, um..." You trail off, voice light and airy, betraying your attempt to seem unaffected.
Despite your brain racing endlessly for the past 5 minutes, you can't form any words to exactly describe how you felt beside 'horny' and you'd rather sink into the ground than say that. Though it seems Yunho may be able to see your thoughts because the smallest smirk tugs at his lips as he takes in your current state.
He's seen that type of look too often to not know what you were feeling right now, but instead of calling you out on it, he gently pushes his hips forward against you. Something hard presses against your leg and your eyes widen as you realize exactly what's being pressed against you, your body tensing as the reality that Yunho is hard crashes into your already scrambled mind. You barely have time to assess how that makes you feel before Yunho pulls his hips back to their previous position, an almost playful twinkle passing through his eyes.
Despite the space he's put between you both, you can almost still feel it against your leg. As if an imprint has been left behind, like footsteps in fresh snow. Your leg twitches, itching to follow Yunho's hips and press against him again, to feel him— hard, thick, warm against your bare skin.
These new feelings for the man currently watching your face are almost overwhelming, your mind and body at odds between jumping his bones and remembering this was your best friend not a random guy you met on Tinder.
"You...?" Yunho repeats, tilting his head as amusement slips into his stare.
He was enjoying seeing you melt like this. A light annoyance starts forming words on your tongue, ready to sass Yunho, but then he takes your fingers back into his mouth. He keeps his eyes locked on yours as he slowly drags his tongue between them before sucking them deeper in. Any words melt off your mind as he sits up and turns to face you, his free hand running up your forearm and leaving goosebumps in its wake.
"You know when you offered to give me your fingers, I wondered if you'd feel it." Yunho muses, his speech is a bit slurred around your fingers but you understand him just fine, "Any time I get my mouth on someone, things tend to escalate. I'm really good with my tongue, at least that's what I've been told."
You swallow thickly, eyes trained on Yunho's lips as his breath fans over your hand and his tongue works your fingers like they would over a clit. You swear you go lightheaded for a moment at the thought of a tongue this precise being between your legs, and if you're picking up the energy Yunho is putting off as he stares a hole in your face, he wouldn't be against that idea.
"I didn't think it'd be this intense." You confess, heat flooding your cheeks as Yunho pops your fingers out of his mouth again, licking his lips.
"Fingers seem innocent enough." He agrees, "Until you realize where else it can lead."
His eyes trail down your body, as if he could see through your pajamas. Like he knows you were staining your panties as he sits beside you, thinking about his mouth and what it could do to you. Yunho sets down your hand, leaning forward until his lips hover right by your ear.
"If you want it, all you have to do is ask." He whispers, warm breath fanning over your skin, "I promise I'll make you feel good, but I'll warn you that I can be...insatiable, and I've been dying to have someone on my tongue. I can't promise I'll be able to control myself."
The arousal flowing through your body made you feel delirious, breathing getting heavy as Yunho's words go straight to your core. For a moment you mull over whether this is a good idea or not, but then you remember the taunting drag of his tongue on your fingers, the thick bulge he pressed into your leg, his fingers sliding along your skin and you nod without realizing it— your body coming to a conclusion before your brain can kick in to stop it.
"Please. Show me what else you can do."
A deep rumble of satisfaction leaves Yunho's chest as his soft lips drag over the shell of your ear down to your neck.
"Anywhere I want?" He whispers, lips brushing against your skin.
Automatically your head falls back to give him more space, craving more of him. Any opposing thoughts you may of had fade into the background, the need in your body burning bright enough to turn them to ash, leaning behind only the desire to chase the wisps of pleasure Yunho is giving you. You give him a quick nod as you lick your lips.
"Anywhere."
Yunho wastes no time in pressing his lips to your heated skin, trailing kisses to your collarbone before moving up to your jaw. His hand moves to the back of your neck, fingers gripping your hair to keep you exactly where he wanted you as he bites down. You keen softly, hand flying to his shirt to grip it in your fist. You didn't pull him in or push him away, it was an anchor that kept you in the moment before you floated away under the greed on his tongue and teeth.
The sounds leaving Yunho's throat were new to you: guttural, gritty, deep, hungry. Something in them made your body go completely pliant under him as if a spell was casted over you, making you surrender to the man who was currently moving his mouth to your chest while his free hand creeps up your stomach to go under your shirt. You arch into his hand more as he cups and squeezes your breast, your nipple dragging against his palm as he gropes you. Your eyes flutter shut when his lips continue down to the neckline of your shirt. He's quick to move his hand from your hair to push your shirt up to your neck. He pulls back to look down at your now exposed chest, eyes drinking the expanse of skin he has at his disposal.
"How do you feel about marks?" He asks before wetting his thumb and circling it around your nipple, relishing in your soft whine.
"Keep them somewhere I can hide is all I ask."
Yunho nods in response before he lowers his mouth down and takes your other nipple into his mouth, a gritty groan leaving his throat as he finally sates the unreachable itch he's had for the past couple days. You arch your back lightly, rubbing your thighs together for some relief as Yunho takes his time circling his tongue around your stiffened bud.
When Yunho warned you about being insatiable, you expected him to be rushed or impatient in how he devoured you, but you couldn't have been more wrong. His tongue's swirls and flicks are calm, slow, intentional. While you compared insatiable to an all-consuming greed that would quickly overwhelm you— Yunho's greed showed itself in a patient game that built upon itself with each trace of his warm tongue along your skin until you're left panting, whining, moments away from begging him for more. He toys with your chest, switching between sucks, flicks, and swirls on one nipple and almost like he could read your mind he would switch to the other one when it started feeling neglected.
Sometimes his eyes would stay shut, savoring your skin against his lips with a slight raise of his brows being the only tell giving away his state of bliss. Sometimes you'd let out a whimper he really likes and his darkened eyes would lock onto yours, the intensity in them sending a pulse of pleasure down to your core, legs clenching together as your mind starts to slip into a fuzzy warmth.
"Y-Yunho-" You whine his name breathlessly, his next harsh suck at your skin making your body shudder underneath him.
"Mmm?" He hums low against your skin, eyes flickering to your face as he bites down hard enough to leave yet another hickey on the side of your chest where he knew you could hide it.
His hands rub at your sides, sometimes moving up to lightly pull at your nipples and roll them between his fingers but it felt like an afterthought compared to his mouth. Hot, precise, messy as he descends even further down your body, kissing and nipping at the skin on your stomach. Your reply is lost in the soft whimper you let out when one of his hands makes it's way to your legs, spreading them apart so he can rub at your inner thigh— nails lightly dragging down the sensitive skin.
"What is it, sweetheart? Talk to Yuyu." He coos sweetly, but the look on his face didn't match his tone at all.
A knowing smirk pulling at the corners of his lips, like he knew exactly what it is you wanted to say but couldn't get out of your fog-filled mind. Instead of words you settle on threading your fingers through his soft, black locks and pulling at them, making him groan deeply and his smirk only widens further. You kept playing into exactly what he wanted and you had no idea.
"Too much? Should I stop?" He tilts his head into your grip, hand slipping back toward your knee and you instinctively clamp your legs shut, capturing his hand.
"Don't you even think about it." You hiss between pants, the small bubble of irritation at his smugness breaking the haze in your mind just enough to get words out.
Yunho chuckles— a deep, honeyed sound that makes your thighs clench around his currently captured hand. Of course he notices and though he doesn't say anything, you can see the amusement in his eyes as his hand grips at your thigh as best as it can.
You've never seen Yunho so cocky or smug before and something about it made you itch to knock him down a peg or two.
"You know for someone who claimed they were dying to have someone on their tongue, you sure are taking your time messing with me. Makes me wonder if you really have an oral fixation or if you just wanted an excuse to sleep with me." You jeered while rolling your eyes.
The surge of brattiness isn't one you expected to come out of you but with how wet you were and the lack of Yunho moving to where you so clearly wanted him, it was only a matter of time. Yunho raises a brow at you as he pulls back from your stomach to sit up next to your hips, your hand forced to fall from his hair due to him going out of your reach. You wait for a retort, a scolding, a correction of some sort, but instead Yunho gives you a smile.
"Oh, am I taking too long?" He asks, eyes trailing down your body and taking in the sight of the many hickeys littering your tits and upper stomach.
The lack of bite back makes your response come out stammered, uncertain.
"Y-Yeah. Want more."
Yunho is quiet for a moment, his face unreadable, then he nods once and smiles at you.
"Okay, sweetheart. Whatever you want."
He takes the hand that fell to your side and kisses the back of it before setting it back on the sheets and your confusion only intensifies. You've never bratted your way into anything other than some sort of punishment— for a second you wonder if perhaps Yunho wasn't the type to respond to acting up and instead the type to give what you want when he's asked.
Strange. A small part of you was disappointed in his lack of response, but that quickly dissipates when you feel Yunho's fingers dip into the side of your shorts and panties. You lift your hips and let him tug them clean off your body, face growing hot as he pushes your legs apart and settles himself between them. His eyes stayed glued to your dripping wet core, a deep hunger in his gaze as his hands move to your hips and yanks you down to be more level with him.
"Look at you. So wet for me." He murmurs against your skin as he gently kisses up your inner thigh.
Your breathing quickens, thighs trembling as his tongue peaks out to swipe along your skin. His thumbs rub circles into your thighs as he continues his trail of kisses, making his way closer and closer to where you were aching for him. Soon his kisses lead him right to your pussy— you can feel his breath on your aching clit and your hips buck upward, begging for him to finally put his tongue where you've been imagining it since he started sucking your fingers. His gaze flits to your face as his grip tightens on your hips to keep you down, then without breaking eye contact, he flattens his tongue and licks over your clit slowly.
The same motions he made over the pad of your fingers are repeated over your clit but with more intent behind his actions— a deadlier precision to the swipes of his tongue as he takes in your reactions and adjusts to what makes your face twist in pleasure more. Which patterns make your thighs tremble around his head, how harsh and long he could suck before you start tugging at his hair— he read your body like a book until he developed the perfect routine to make your eyes roll into your skull, your hips fight his grip, and your cries bounce off the walls.
Meanwhile your mind was reeling from the pleasure coursing through your body. Yunho's previous warning that you used as a taunt turned into a reality you couldn't have prepared for. The continuous wind up from his tongue on your neck, then your chest, then your stomach and now your clit has left your body feeling tight, hot, seconds away from snapping before he's even been down there for too long. When he lets out a long moan into your pussy, the vibrations sending another pulse of pleasure straight up your spine, you know you're hitting your limit.
"Yu-Yun-" You stutter between whimpers, back bowing as the next drag of his filthy tongue makes you moan loudly.
Somewhere in your clouded mind you decide it would be a good idea to lift your head and look down at the man currently between your legs, licking at you like a sweet treat he couldn't bear to be separated from. His hair is a mess, thanks to your frantic hands, eyes closed with his eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he savored you on his tongue, skin lightly sheened with sweat. As if he can feel your stare on him, in that moment his eyes snap open— smoldering, dark gaze meeting yours and the heat from his stare sends a surge of arousal through your body that sends you crashing over the edge. The world goes white for a moment and you let out a loud cry as your orgasm rips through your body, trembling in Yunho's grip as your toes curl and he chooses that moment to slip a finger into you.
A whimper leaves your throat as your walls flutter around the digit, brain still returning to Earth as he keeps his tongue flicking over your clit, working you through your orgasm. As your climax subsides what was once helping you ride the waves of pleasure becomes overstimulating pumps of his finger deep inside of you and your hips try to squirm away from his insistent tongue still dragging filthy patterns over your now tingling clit.
"Y-Yunho, sensitive-" You force the words out of you, fighting against his grip.
But he doesn't pull away entirely like you expect him too. Instead he works a second finger into you, curling them against your still twitching walls as he pulls his mouth from your clit to speak.
"One more time, sweetheart?" He asks, a sweet lilt to his deepened voice that makes you clench on his fingers.
"S-Sen-" You start to repeat yourself but then he presses into that spongy little spot inside of you that makes your eyes cross.
"But you wanted more, didn't you?" He purrs, flashing a smile at you that didn't reach his eyes at all, a sadism seeping into his tone as his fingers pick up speed, "Weren't you the one rushing me earlier? Saying I was just using this as an excuse to fuck you?"
Yunho leans forward to hover over your trembling figure— amused eyes meeting your teary ones as you fight to get anything beyond whines and whimpers to come out of your mouth and fail miserably, only able to grip at his shirt with a pleading look. His smile only widens at how helpless you look beneath him.
"See, I would've let that be the end, but you just had to run that pretty little mouth. You had to rush me. Impatient little brat you are." He hums, lowering his head to kiss and nip at your neck again.
Your legs try to close but his body is more than effective at keeping you spread for him, his weight keeping you still enough that he can keep thrusting his fingers into your sweet spot. Your overtuned body tries to move away from the stimulation, but there was nowhere to go. He had you trapped under his big body, at the mercy of his ministrations that refused to slow down even as tears stream down your face.
"You wanted to cum so bad, didn't you? Well, go ahead." He husks into your ear, "Cum."
Your body responds to his words like a command, a second orgasm hitting you so hard you sob as it rolls through you, every nerve in your body feeling set alight.
"Good girl." He coos, kissing your jaw before swiping his tongue over your tears with a dark chuckle, "Now you're gonna keep cumming since you wanted it so badly.”
A third finger slips into your sopping wet heat and you thrash against him, more tears streaming down your face as the pleasure becomes almost disorienting at this point. His thumb on your clit rubbing circles in time with his thrusting fingers is what breaks you, the words jumping out of your mouth before you even realize it.
"S-Sorry! 'm sorry!" You yell between the sobs wracking through your chest.
"Hm? What was that, sweetheart?" Yunho asks, fingers slowing down just a bit, but that slight reprieve was enough to set off more apologies.
"I'm sorry! I'm sorry, I'm sorry, I'm sorry—" You ramble repeatedly, wet eyes locking onto his as he pulls back to look at your completely wrecked face.
"Oh, you're sorry? For what?"
His fingers keep slowing down gradually as he gives you a chance to fix your earlier mistake.
"F-For rushing you! For being a b-brat, I'm sorry! P-Please, please, I'm sorry-"
Yunho looks over your teary eyes, the annoyance from earlier long gone from them— all that's left is a desperate, pleading look of pure submission that makes his cock throb in his boxers. You were so pretty when you cried for him, even prettier when you submitted to him. His fingers finally come to a stop and you let out a deep sigh of relief as your body goes limp against the bed.
Your heart hammers in your ears as you try to catch your breath. Yunho pulls his fingers from your twitching heat making you whimper at the loss but also at how sensitive you were. You watch him bring his fingers to his mouth and groan deeply as he sucks them clean, a small bolt of desire still finding its way to your core despite your sensitivity. Yunho sits back on his knees for a moment and you watch his face as he seems to think over something. Your gaze naturally lingers down his body and you stop at the tent in his sweatpants.
Oh yeah. He didn't really get off, did he? The agreement was to sate his fixation and it seems to have worked considering his much happier state, but still...he didn't get to cum, and that bothered you more than you'd like to admit. He made you feel amazing, you wanted him to feel good too.
Yunho starts to get off the bed but you grab his arm before he can and pull him back toward you. He looks back at you with a questioning glance.
"Yeah? You okay? Was it too much?" He asks, concern filling his gaze as he crawls back to you and looks over your face.
There's your Yuyu. Sweet, caring Yuyu.
You ignore how the fondness in your chest morphs into something else for a moment, opting instead to move your grip from his arm to his shirt and continue pulling him until he hovered over you again with one hand holding him up. His confusion only deepens as you move him where you want him.
"Y/N? What are you...?" He begins to question, but when you lock your legs around his waist and gently roll your hips, whimpering at the stimulation that still felt a little too raw, he goes quiet.
Yunho's eyes widen as what you want suddenly clicks in his head. He looks down at where you're both pressed against each other before his eyes go back to yours.
"Oh you don't have to worry about me. You did your part, the fixation is sated. That's all we agreed on." Yunho assures you, a hand rubbing up and down your arm.
"I know, but..." You trail off, heat flooding your cheeks as you look away, stomach flipping as you continue, "I want to."
Yunho's brows raise in shock, not expecting you to actually want to go any further than this. His free hand turns your head back to face him, a soft expression on his face as he gently cups your cheek.
"Are you absolutely sure? You don't owe me this and I won't be mad if you change your mind. I just don't want you to regret this. I can always go rub one out in the shower like a normal person."
You burst into giggles at that and Yunho can't help the smile that makes it way to his face at your clear joy.
"I'm sure, Yunho. Very sure, just take it easy on me? Still a little sensitive." You run your fingers through his hair and he nods with a small chuckle.
He gently unwraps your legs from him so he can stand up to take off his clothes and you take the moment to throw aside the shirt that was still hiked up to your collarbone. When you turn your attention back to Yunho he's crawling between your legs again, stroking himself with one hand while he gets settled and the sheer size of him makes you clench around nothing. Good thing he used three fingers on you earlier, it was prep that you unknowingly needed for what was coming. Yunho starts to position himself when he suddenly goes still.
"Yuyu?" You call to him, tilting your head a bit as he lets out a sigh.
"I don't have a condom. I didn't pack any." He groans, anguish in his voice like it physically pains him to start pulling away from your dripping core.
But you clamp your legs around his hips to stop him and he meets your gaze with a raised brow.
"Are you clean?"
"Of course! I don't mess around with things like that." He balks, understanding why you asked, but still semi-offended you asked anyway.
"So am I." You say between amused giggles at his facial expression, "Just pull out."
Yunho blinks once, twice, before a familiar heat settles into his gaze again. He looks at you, spread open in front of him, completely bare and wanting him so much you were willing to forgo a condom. His cock twitches and your eyes flicker down to the movement, biting your lip as you spread your legs further to invite him in. He takes the invitation immediately, one hand settling next to your waist to hold himself up as his other hand lines himself to slide into you. He taps his tip against your clit a few times, relishing in your soft whimpers and how your hips jolt at the stimulation before finally angling himself and sinking into you slowly.
You keen at the stretch, forcing yourself to stay relaxed as Yunho carefully sinks into you with a soft hiss. Every nerve in his body begs him to fuck into you already but your words about taking it easy continuously ring in his mind. By the time he's fully sheathed inside of you, you feel full. Completely and utterly full, like he was somehow reaching your lungs and taking the air out of them. Yunho leans over more, eyes searching your face for discomfort and your breath catches in your throat.
The current energy was different than what crackled in the air in the beginning. Before there was a burning need in every motion between you two, greedily sating all urges and desires until nothing was left but satisfaction. Now, with him deep as he can be inside of you, looking at you with his usual caring, concerned eyes, his hand gentle on your waist— you find your heart leaping into your throat and your face flooding with so much heat you want to sink into the ground. Yunho just smiles once he sees there's no discomfort to be found and leans down to gently kiss your neck.
"I'm gonna move now, alright?" He whispers against your heated skin.
You bite down on your lip, cursing mentally at how your walls clench around him from his whisper as you nod in response, not trusting your words at the moment.
He pulls out halfway before rolling his hips back into you and your hands fly to his back, digging your nails into it as some lingering wisps of overstimulation run through your body, but at a level that leans toward pleasure over pain. You hide your face in Yunho's neck— your moans and whimpers spilling onto his slick skin as he keeps rocking into you slow but firmly.
Yunho grits his teeth as his eyes squeeze shut, fighting every instinct in his being as you unknowingly pull at every loose end he has, unraveling his resolve slowly. Each whine into his skin, each drag of your nails down his back, each sigh of his name when he rocks into your sweet spot, each clench of your walls around his cock. He pulls away from your neck, intending to warn you of what you're doing to him, but his words catch in his throat when he sees your face— your fucked out, blissful face. Parted lips, tongue lightly poking out of them as you breathe heavily, glassy, wet eyes giving him such a needy look it makes his cock twitch. When your eyes flicker down to his lips, he can't help but give you exactly what you're wordlessly pleading for.
Your lips meet in a soft kiss that Yunho intends to keep that way, until your fingers thread into his hair again and pull. His hips snap forward harshly at the pleasurable burn on his scalp, an instinctive action that makes you cry out his name against his lips and he decides he really likes how you sound when you're crying his name like that.
So against his logical mind's better judgment, he starts to fuck you harder— not plowing into you, just putting slightly more weight behind his thrusts, enough to make you bounce against the bed and the headboard to start gently knocking against the wall. When your reaction is to pull at his hair and claw at his back once more, his hips start rocking even faster, fisting the sheets beneath his hands as he breaks the kiss to focus on keeping his pace steady and deep in you.
He watches you fall apart yet again— soft whimpers becoming louder cries, wet eyes becoming overflowing, back arching into him, nails scratching at him in ways he knows will leave marks but he doesn't care. Not when you're singing his name so sweetly and looking at him like that. Not when you're gripping him like you never want his cock to leave you every time he pulls out until only his tip is in.
"F-Fuck, I'm getting close." He rasps, looking at where you two connect and biting back a groan at how wet his dick was and what a mess you've left on his hips.
"M-Me too, just a bit more, Yuyu." You pant before pulling him back into a desperate kiss, hips bucking up to meet his thrusts.
Yunho's hand cups your cheek as the kiss gets messy, with you bouncing from his thrusts it's hard to keep your lips locked but neither of you care as you get closer to your shared high. You feel a hand sneak between your legs to rub circles on your clit in time with his strokes and it only takes four circles before your eyes are rolling back and you're cumming around Yunho with a silent cry. Yunho has to stop moving his hips entirely to focus on not emptying his balls into you because the way you clench around him makes his body feel like you're begging for it, desperate to be filled with his warm load— but no, not this time. He had to keep to your request, so his fingers on your clit help you ride out the high. He cuts it dangerously close, barely pulling out with enough time to spill his seed all over your mound and lower stomach without even needing to stroke himself.
His large frame collapses a bit onto you and for a while you both lie there, breathing heavily. Eventually Yunho rolls off of you, relaxing into the bed as he stares at the ceiling. You turn your head to Yunho and he turns to meet your gaze, smiling softly at how cute you looked all worn out like this.
"Come here, sweetheart."
Yunho has called you that pet name more times than you can count, but this time it sets a flutter into your stomach and you dip your head into his neck to hide your face as heat rises into your cheeks again. Yunho laughs softly, pulling your body against him and putting an arm around you as you settle on his chest.
The cabin is quiet except for the credits rolling on the movie faintly in the background, but neither of you feel the need to speak. Despite the questions rolling around in both of your minds, you don't say a word. Instead, you let exhaustion take you under and before you know it, you're asleep on Yunho's chest. Yunho glances down when he notices your slowed breathing, pressing a soft kiss to your head before lying on the pillow again. He'd wake you up in a bit to clean up and eat, he did a number on you and you could take a few minutes to recuperate. Plus, he liked your weight pressing on him like this. A closeness he's had with you before but not exactly like this, though he didn't mind it at all. Matter of fact, he liked it.
Huh, who woulda thought? Certainly not Yunho.
He looks at your face one more time, trying to place a finger on the feelings blooming in his chest, but ultimately he gives up because his brain was not entirely here in the moment. For now, he would just hum a song softly as he traces shapes in your skin.
For now, he'd see this as a one-off favor that went a bit further than intended. Nothing more, nothing less.
For now.
please do not repost my works. thank you for reading!
Summary: As an omega, being with an alpha never felt right, and you couldn't tell why...
pairings: omega!seonghwa x omega!reader (main), omega!wooyoung x reader, alpha!hongjoong x reader, omega!oc!yuna x reader, slight alpha!yeosang x reader
c/w: ABO, smut, angst, fluff
stormborns
snowghoul
ellievsbear
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled
titsay
germansingergirl
