warnings: aphrodisiacs, multiple orgasms, rough sex, so much cum etc.
a/n: yeah...
enjoy.
You really should have put them in a cabinet, or hell, you could've even thrown them in the trash. But you didn’t. And you weren't sure that you regretted it.
They were a childish idea of a gag gift from a game of Secret Santa you had played with your coworkers last Christmas. You were beyond disoriented when you opened your gift to find the pills inside the neatly wrapped box, immediately taking it as your coworkers finding your consistent lack of a partner amusing.
You took them home, with zero intention to use them. It's not like you had a boyfriend, so they sat on your nightstand, collecting dust, untouched, along with a plethora of random items that never saw the light of day. You didn’t know why exactly you never threw them away, maybe because in the future, it was a possibility you might use them. Fat chance. You had completely forgotten about them, the bottle becoming just another item on your “I Spy’’ of a table.
Enter Choi San.
San always comes over unannounced, walking through your front door like he owns the place; that's just what best friends do. Making a home on your sectional and refusing to leave until the cushions swallowed him whole and you had to drag him out by his ear.
You would complain, but you both knew he was always more than welcome. This time was no different, waltzing in just as the sun began to set in the sky. He had brought some Chinese takeout for you, insisting that you needed to spend the evening taking it easy and leaving work alone for a minute, which was really taking a toll on you.
San always noticed these things before you yourself could even catch on. When you are overworked or when you catch a cold. When your cycle was starting or when your hangovers were bad. He knew you better than you knew yourself, and you couldn’t help but feel so loved and cared for with how easily he saw through you.
It started with a headache.
You were both curled up on the couch, a TV show you had been watching together for the past month played on your TV. You had cookies stuffed in your mouth, and San nursed a can of beer. The house was dark, no lights on, just the soft glow of the TV screen. San was close, one arm draped over your shoulders as he leaned against your side. You lay your head on his shoulder, eyes glued to the screen.
“Do you have any Advil or something?” San’s soft voice broke the comfortable silence, slipping his arm away from you and lifting his hands to his forehead to massage his temples, eyebrows knitted in pain.
“Headache?” you ask simply, and he nods, squeezing his eyes shut.
“Yeah. probably all this staring at a screen I’ve been doing all day.” You nod sympathetically, then point towards the dark hallway, “I have some ibuprofen on my nightstand in my room if you wanna go take some.” He smiles and stands, walking behind the couch.
“Thanks, you’re a lifesaver.” San’s hand finds the nape of your neck, squeezing the tense muscle there in a quick massaging movement, as a way of saying thank you. His hands are large and warm, easily overtaking the entire expanse of your neck. You’re lucky he was so quick to rid himself of this headache because if his hand had lingered any longer, you probably would have lost it.
San is hot. Anyone with eyes can see that. From the beginning, you may have seen the possibility of a romantic relationship developing, but you didn’t wanna make things weird. So you listed that under the “not gonna happen” category and never touched it again. What made it so hard was that San was incredibly touchy and affectionate; it was like he had a parasite inside of him that fed off of human touch.
San walked into your bedroom, the space cast in shadows. He didn't bother turning on the light, using the dim desk lamp across the room as he made a beeline towards your nightstand. Your sheets were a mess, and a few clothes were strewn about here and there. It smelled like you.
When he saw the nightstand, he sighed audibly at the absolute mess it was. Hairbands, mail, books, and pencils, everything on planet earth crammed onto one small surface. Sitting at the edge was a white bottle with a blue label. He picked it up and twisted the cap off, pouring a couple of pills into his hand. He walked out of your room and walked to the kitchen, grabbing a glass of water and washing it down.
When he sat back down next to you, you glanced over as he began to make himself comfy again. “Found them?” you asked.
“Yeah," San reached over and took your wrist in his hand, brushing his fingers over the pulse point, pressing down on it gently. "By the way, you should clean that table; it looks like an office depot threw up all over it.”
You rolled your eyes and gently kicked his side. “When you start paying rent, I’ll think about it.” You both laughed and directed your attention back at the TV, that comfortable silence settling once again.
It was about 45 minutes later, San had noticed his headache had gone, but now he was feeling… something else.
Feverish, like someone had poured hot coals into his stomach.
Was he getting sick? You were still lost in the TV, but San had long forgotten as it played in the background. He felt hot, overheated. Sure, his head didn’t hurt anymore, but instead it felt fuzzy. He was sweating, and his knee wouldn’t stop bouncing.
He brushed it off as maybe too much beer, but even 10 minutes later, he only felt worse. Maybe worse wasn’t the right word, but suddenly the nape of his neck burned like crazy, his heart was racing, and there was this strange feeling in his gut that felt like a tug, a pull of some sort.
He turned to look at you, and he swallowed. And that heat all over his body increased tenfold.
You sat prettily, legs tucked underneath you, nibbling on the nail of your thumb absentmindedly. Your shorts rode up your soft thighs, your chest rose and fell with gentle, relaxed breaths, the side of your neck exposed, the light of the TV reflecting in your glassy eyes.
San’s breath hitched, and he felt s strong lurch in his stomach. His mouth instantly dried, every nerve ending in his body was set alight. Then he finally placed what he was feeling.
He was horny. So unbelievably, fucking horny.
He didn’t understand why, and he was less worried about the why and worried about how if he didn’t get out of here now, shit was going to go down. It would be something he couldn't control, and that seemed to only excite him further.
His brain was a mess of thoughts, words overlapping one another, and an unbearable heat dripping down his back. But the one thought that screamed louder than the rest of them, was to ravage. To take and to fuck this heat away, using you.
His skin was ablaze, his breath ragged, his cock straining against the confines of his pants painfully. Everywhere his eyes landed on you only added fuel to the flames; his fingers twitched, itching to touch.
You had heard his shallow breaths, and you turned your head to make sure he was alright. Pure, innocent concern for your friend who sounded like he was literally about to pass out. “San?” you whispered.
His jaw clenched, and his dick jumped in his pants at the sound of your sweet… sweet voice.
He inhaled sharply, and your brows furrowed in concern as you inched yourself closer to him, a hand carefully reached out.
“Sannie, are you alright-“
“H-hands off!” He exclaimed, his voice dropped to a strained low drawl, and trailing off into a pathetic whine as he wiped the sweat that gathered on his palms on his pants. Immediately, he scrambled to apologize to you, to come up with an excuse to explain his freakish behavior.
But when he looked at you again, he felt that need to apologize and explain die on his tongue when he found your gaze trained on the print in his jeans. You swallowed once. Visibly, your body sent a shiver throughout you, and San’s need to gain control of the situation was slipping… fast.
Consequences be damned, San was willing to risk anything to make this ferocity go away.
“Look at me.” A growl, quiet and sharp, that travelled straight through your body like you had just been injected with liquid fire.
You blinked and ripped your eyes away from his lower body, meeting his gaze in a shared, misty look. Your heart was racing, and he took notice of the slight glaze in your eyes, your heavy breathing, the way your fingers played with the hem of your shirt nervously.
Caught and guilty.
“Say no.” San gritted, eyes boring into yours like you might vanish if he blinked.
“Huh?” You whispered, eyes subtly drifting to his clenched fists and his chest rising and falling with labored breaths.
“You heard me.” He sounded wrecked… and if that didn’t make you wet, nothing would. “Say no. Tell me no.” San’s gaze was heated, anything but calm and collected. At this moment, he did not seem himself. The soft, easy-going, gentle San. Instead, he looked hungry, determined, and way too fucking delicious, which was not giving you any peace of mind.
Your eyes fell to your lap, mind racing and heart pounding. You kept your mouth shut.
"I'm not playing with you." San gritted out. His voice was dangerous, a warning. Electrifying. He was giving you an out. A chance to walk away with your body intact tonight.
You didn't take it. You dragged your eyes back up to his, and when your gazes locked, San's nostrils flared, his tongue slipping out and licking his bottom lip. His cock jumped in his pants, and he began to pant slowly, feverishly, his breath shaking with each quiet exhale.
He didn't move. He didn't speak. He stared at you, not once averting his eyes from yours. Assessing, waiting for any semblance in your body language to hint that there was a chance that you didn't want this.
Nothing. If the look in your eyes was anything to go off, San would say you were basically begging for him to lay his hands on you.
And considering that San was sure he might internally combust if you kept looking at him like that, he was ready to take his chances.
“Keep looking at me like that.” He rumbled in a near frightening warning, tilting his head upwards like he was challenging his prey, the gaze he laid on you so intense you felt it in your gut. “I dare you.”
You clenched your thighs, and San noticed.
His eyes rolled and a filthy smile spread across his lips, craning his neck to the side, a quiet cracking sound snapping the deafening silence in two as he stretched himself out.
So much for making out of this in one piece.
"I'm gonna fucking ruin you."
The first movement was a blur, so quick that you immediately started to wonder if you were going to regret this decision. San’s hands gripped either one of your shoulders and hauled you around so your back was pressed against the couch. Your pants were off in one swift movement, and he lay himself between your thighs eagerly, no sign of restraint or patience in his tense shoulders.
You were dizzy with how fast he maneuvered you, and he gave you no time to think before his hot mouth was on you.
Wet, desperate, and loud, San's mouth moved against your quivering cunt between pained groans and needy whines, his tongue swiping through your folds and his hands squeezing your hips, holding them down against the couch cushions. Your fingers dug into the armrest until your nails started to hurt, a long, pitched whine slipping from your lips. San was shameless in his eating, and when your hips bucked in an attempt to escape his ruthless devouring of you, his eyes flashed dark and his teeth bared as he sank them into your sensitive clit.
“Stop fucking moving,” he ordered, flattening his tongue against and licking a long, hungry stripe up the length of you. “If you can’t handle this, there’s no way you’ll survive me fucking you.”
The promise in his words makes you swallow, and he wasted no time devouring you once again. He was starving, famished, and every time your taste flooded his tongue, his blood shot right to his dick, and the heat was unbearable. Like he was strapped down under a heat lamp that he couldn't turn off, his blood buzzed and his brain felt fogged, and the only thing he could think of was you.
“Shit, baby, you taste so good.” Absentmindedly, San’s hips rutted against the cushions of the couch, desperately trying to satiate the straining in his pants while simultaneously trying to quell his fill on your pretty pussy, soaked and creaming for him.
You were coming before you even realized it was happening, your breath catching and your hips stuttering against his tongue.
And yet.
“Fuck me, honey…” he whined. “More, please. Oh god.” and his mouth continued to move, to eat, to consume and whisper sweet filthy nothings against you, like this was just the first course.
He lay between your plush thighs, kneading them with his soft hands, shaking his head back and forth, fucking you on his tongue and drinking you up like it gave him life.
His skilled tongue, flipping, circling. Sucking and obscenely eating, it nearly sounded like he was drowning, moaning unabashedly between your thighs, each heavy lustful groan sending shocks through your cunt and spreading about your entire body.
Consuming for the sake of feeding, he couldn't care less if you were crying from overstimulation, you tasted so damn good, and every nerve in his body screamed at him to make you cum over and over and over to satiate this intense hunger that made his skin burn and his mind haze.
Only when you came for the second time, voice breaking and your whole body shaking, did he reluctantly force himself from your sweet pussy, giving it a few more fleeting licks and kisses, whining in distress like he hated himself for depriving himself from eating you until you couldn't feel your legs for the rest of the night.
He flipped your body over so your stomach was pressed flat against the couch, he ripped his pants off, and pressed himself against your sweltering back. The heat radiating off his skin was insane, the way it soaked into your flesh like he was the sun itself, like he had a burning fever.
His breathing was needy and ragged, the way his voice quietly whined between each exhale of air, like it hurt. San needed to feel your skin on his, needed to squeeze your flesh in his sweltering palms, needed to be inside you.
You couldn’t see him, but you could feel him, his broad chest against your shoulder blades, his soft mouth on the side of yout throat, his throbbing dick pressed right up against the slick entrance of your cunt.
One hand buried in your hair, the other gripping the side of your waist. “Gonna fuck you until we both lose our minds,” he promised breathlessly in your ear, licking your lobe and pressing a wet kiss to your temple.
“It's so hot… too hot." San opened his mouth in a pained groan against your temple, his warm breath fanning over your skin.
"It hurts, baby…” he groaned, just as he pressed his tip past your lips. Your mouth fell open in a silent moan, as each thick inch of his cock slid inside of you with little to no resistance from how fucking wet his mouth got you.
The stretch was mouthwatering, and the whine that came from his throat made you flutter around him. Hips flush against your ass, he rolled them, forcing you to feel every vein and every warm, long pulsing bit of his cock against your snug walls. And the moan you let out was downright sinful, enough to break him down right then and there.
If you even wanted to try and stop him now, there was no way he'd be able to find it in him to. He was lost in the feeling of you, your cunt hugged him so tight, and the warmth under his skin only seemed to flare hotter. San dragged his hips back sliding his cock along your walls, thrusting back insde with force enough to shake the couch.
“Oh fuck, yes…” he groaned, immediately setting a rhythm in his body to chase away that burning fire in his body that made him feel like an animal in heat. He fucked you like he was angry, like he was infected with a virus and the only cure was your saccharine moans that fell from your mouth every time his tip kissed that spot deep inside of you.
Your brain was reeling as you searched your thoughts to try to justify how and why this was happening. Why San was rutting into you like it’d kill him not too. Why his skin was so hot that it felt like it was burning you. Why it felt like San's cock was made for you.
The first time you came with his cock inside of you, you squeezed around him so hard that he had to stop for a moment, the feeling so intense that his mouth fell open, and you swore you felt him drool on your shoulder. "Sweeheart, please..." San meweled, his hands sliding from your hips to snatch your wrists and trapping them in his iron grip, holding them down against your lower back to prevent you from moving. "I know it's a lot but stop squirming. Be a good girl-- oh fuck-- endure it for me, baby."
Endurance was the one thing you wished you had right now because San was completely destroying you from the inside out.
When he fucked his cock back up into you again, he was already spilling his cum, hips sliding smoothly, fucking you so full of him your eyes were crossing from feeling so full. The slick wet sounds that echoed around the dark living room were vile in nature, his cum mixing with your slick, your thighs sticky, and your brain melted.
“Shit shit, god… you’re so good… so good for me.. so s-soft…” he was babbling, never losing that punishing pace as he continued to fuck the pain out of his body. Using your cunt as stress relief to relieve this ache in his bones.
But it was like it never let up, the need to fuck like rabbits until both your brains fried from the pleasure only got even stronger.
"'M so sorry, baby," San groaned, dragging his warm tongue up the side of your throat, kissing your shoulder, and squeezing your hips so tight you thought he was trying to snap them so you couldn't run.
"So tight- mmm fuck! So warm... taking me so w-well, oh god, take it baby, take it. Take it..." His voice trailed off into mindless, breathless chants, every stroke of his cock switching off the lights in your brain, your belly warm with him, your poor cunt creaming around him, the pleasure so insane you thought you just might be in heaven. San fucked you until time slipped away, and the only thought you had was to cum, and the only word you remembered was his name.
After what must've been an innumerable number of orgasms for you both, you couldn't keep your body from twitching. He had you on your back, pressing languid, consuming kisses into your swollen mouth, his cock buried so deep inside of you, your stomach felt full of him and his cum. It leaked down your thighs, his thrusts slowed to a sensual, deep roll of hips, the sounds wet and nasty.
“Sannieeee…” you whined softly, voice hoarse and eyes heavy lidded as he fucked another load into you. His eyes were brimming with tears and his cheeks were flushed a pretty pink, lips coated in saliva. Hands roamed up and down the soft flesh of your waist, kneading your stomach and massaging your hips. He had literally fucked you numb.
“S-sorry baby…” he whimpered, and his hips kept moving like his body was in a trance, like he couldn’t control himself. “Can’t help it… it still h-hurts… you’re so warm, baby. Please… just a little more.” He was pathetic, and he just couldn’t even bear to think of slipping out of you. He wanted to stay in your pussy for an eternity.
Your body was spent, and so was San’s, but he just kept going. Like he wasn’t already sore, like his brain wasn’t mush from pleasure. Like you weren’t absolutely fucked dumb, like your thighs didn’t shake and twitch with every slick stroke of his cock inside of you.
San kept using your body like it was the only thing keeping him alive. You had definitely connected the dots by this time and ultimately decided that those pills needed to be rid of as soon as possible.
As soon as San’s dick was no longer turning you inside out.
warnings: predator/prey play, blood, fighting, dub-con, fingering, objectification etc.
a/n: as my thank you to ya’ll for 1k followers, here’s the first day of kinktober early! im so excited to share all my writings with you guys, so buckle down cause its only depravity from here on out.
enjoy.
Run.
That was all he had said to you.
He was standing on your front porch when you arrived home from work, exhaustion setting in your bones when you parked your car. Work had been strenuous as usual, and all you could think about was curling up beneath your sheets and melting into sleep.
It was late, well past 11 pm, your eyes were half open, and your movements were sluggish, barely awake.
You stepped out of your car and locked it, the sound of the beep echoing off the trees from the forest that surrounded your little house. It was not too far from the city, but just enough so that you felt like you were living a quiet life.
You took in a deep breath as you walked to your house, but stopped in your tracks.
Someone was standing on your porch. The figure was dark, the porch lights backlighting him ominously. He was huge. Tall. Bulky. Your brain went quiet, your heart stopped. The blood in your veins rushed like a roiling river.
Your mouth went dry, pure, unbridled fear scraping its nails down your back.
You didn’t dare take another step. You were trying to see if you could recognize him as he continued to stand there. Motionless.
The crickets screeched, and the moon above glared down through the piercing darkness. The sweat on the back of your neck began to gather, and your heart was racing.
You didn’t dare speak. This standoff between you and this stranger was preventing you from making it inside your house. You couldn’t even see his face.
He took one step forward, one foot now on the first step of your porch. Instinctively, you took a step back, mirroring his rigid movements. This time, the light from your porch glared across the man’s face. You suppressed a soft squeak at the recognition.
Fear, confusion… anticipation.
It was almost like the crickets stopped, it was only you and him, and the trees listened to your laboured breaths. He held no weapon, but his unwavering gaze was sharp enough to cut.
The muscle in your calf twitched, like your body was screaming at you to flee.
A whisper. Quiet, carried through the empty noises of the night. Your heart pumped. Your blood ran cold.
You took another deep breath, dropped your purse, turned toward the edge of the forest…
And ran.
When you crossed the line of trees, you were immediately engulfed in swallowing darkness. Tree branches scraped and pawed at your exposed arms and legs as you ran. Your blood pumping, your head swimming, your muscles burning.
The air whirred by your ears as you bolted through the dark, thick forest, not daring to slow down so long as you could help it.
Your breaths come out sharp and quick, the crunch and snap of the forest under your feet sounds like gunshots in your ear, unable to distinguish between your own footfalls and whoever was chasing after you like they wanted to fucking eat you.
Your arms were covered in welts and scratches from the relentless abuse of the tree's branches, merciless to your poor heart.
You made random sharp turns, left, right, right, left, right, doing everything you could to try and lose him. Your body was giving out, your breathing shallows, and your legs on fire.
Your lungs stung, and all you could see was an endless stretch of trees, all looming above you like a wooden cage.
You felt like you had been running for hours, your feet carrying you farther with the adrenaline flowing through your body. You had long lost sight of your lonely house, turning back to see if you could see him, of course, you couldn’t in the blackness of the woods.
But you could hear him, and it set your fear ablaze.
Quickly, you turned again, pressing your back against a large willow tree. You kept your feet firmly planted on the ground so the leaves wouldn’t crunch under your weight, and you took a few breaths before ultimately deciding your breathing was too loud. You quieted your breath, shaking against the tough tree bark as you strained your ears to listen.
The leaves crunched somewhere on your far right. You closed your eyes and prayed for the first time in 13 years.
He had stopped walking. Silence.
Nothing.
You could hear the blood rushing in your ears, and it only seemed like your heart rate continuously climbed.
An owl called in the distance. A coyote howled.
“Got you.” Large, rough hands snatched your shoulders and lifted you like you were made of air, weightless. He pushed your body to the ground, your head knocking back against the cold ground. He towered over you. And your suspicions were confirmed. Song Mingi. Messy black hair, a crazed look in his eyes. Shoulders rising and falling with his breath, staring down at you like all he wanted to do was eat you alive.
How you knew him was not important; all that mattered was that he was here right now. And you weren’t going to give him what he wanted without making him work for it.
He leaned down to grab your legs, and immediately you began to kick, legs flailing, aiming for his broad chest. He snatched your ankles before your kick could land and squeezed them together in one hand, holding you still, making you wince from the strength of his grip.
“C’mon, baby,” he snarled, yanking your body across the ground closer to him, the stray branches scratching your back.
“Fight back, will you?” His nails dug into your skin. “Hit me, bite me, scratch me. Fuck me up!” He leaned closer to your face to taunt you, grab the base of your throat to pull your body up and closer to him, but quickly, you launched a fist right into the side of his face.
He staggered, and his grip loosened on your ankles. Quickly, you ripped your legs away and scrambled back, keeping your eyes on him as you slowly lifted yourself to stand on sore legs. Your fist hurt from the power of the punch, and Mingi paused his ministrations.
He laughed, smiling up at you, shades of crimson coating his white teeth. He spat on the ground, like he had a bad taste in his mouth, the mixture of his blood and saliva seeping into the cold earth.
“That’s what I’m fucking talking about.” He nearly moaned, quickly standing and walking towards you with a new hunger in him, crazed. He wiped his mouth with the back of his fist, blood smearing across his cheek. The sky roared with thunder, and the clouds opened up and rain fell like hail upon the forest, immediately soaking you to the bone. “Love when you make me hurt for it.”
You whipped your body around and started to take off running again, Mingi high on your heels. You didn’t get far before his arms encircled your waist, his feet kicking beneath yours to make you lose your footing, before he slammed your body to the ground. The breath was knocked from your lungs as you felt his body press into yours, and you threw your head back to knock your skull against his face.
His breathing was ragged, but you could hear laughter between every breath, his grip on you only tightening. “Go on, tire yourself out for me.” He sneered, flipping your body over so you were on your back. His arm lifted to press right under your throat, holding your head to the ground. His free hand lifted and snatched your wrists, pinning them to the ground above you. The freezing rain pelted against your heated bodies, your struggle never-ending underneath his large form.
He straddled your lap, putting all his weight on you to prevent you from moving. Yet you continued to fight.
“Still got some fight in you, huh?” Mingi squeezed your wrists harder and pressed his arm further against your throat, nearly preventing you from taking a breath. “Strong girl…”
“Fuck you,” you spat, the fight in you slowly diminishing.
“Ask nicely,” he smirked, moving his arm away from your throat to allow you to breathe. But its new destination made your heart leap as he trailed it down your body to the waistband of your pants.
Your cheeks flushed, and your breathing hitched as you jerked and tugged your wrists in his hold.
Mingi pouted, slipping his hand into your shorts. “Aww, no more fighting? You giving up, baby?” His fingertips brushed against your clit through your underwear, and your back arched into his touch. His breath came heavy and frenzied, like he was holding himself back from ripping you apart. "Boring..."
You bit your bottom lip, the taste of blood flooding your tongue, you managed to yank one of your arms free from his grasp, and immediately reached forward, curling your fist into his hair and yanking it from the scalp, pulling his head down closer to your face.
With his neck exposed, you sank your teeth into his throat, hard.
Mingi let out a primal groan, rolling his hips against your stomach, a shiver slipping down his spine. “Yeahhhh, there we go, be rough with me…” He slipped his hands out of your shorts, shimmying himself down your body so he kneeled between your legs. He yanked the shorts off of you, his hand pressing your thighs together and lifting your legs so your ankles rested next to each other on his shoulder. Immediately, his fingers were back on you again, gliding smoothly through your slick cunt.
The grip on his hair only tightened as white hot pleasure replaced the adrenaline in your veins, your mouth fell open in a strained moan, your legs absent-mindedly spread to let him touch you more.
“Oh, you nasty slut…” Mingi rolled his hips against you again as his fingers found your clit, rubbing tight circles against it. “Getting off on this? You’re fucking soaked.”
Your hips bucked against his touch, and you couldn’t deny how extremely turned on you were. Your skin was hot, and the rain was relentless against your intertwined bodies, washing away any guilt and leaving nothing but heat in its wake.
“Fuck… please!” you cried, circling your hips to try and feel more of his body against you.
Mingi laughed, slipping his thick fingers down your slit and slipping them inside your needy pussy, immediately curling them upward inside of you, making come-hither motions against you as your walls fluttered around him.
You made a choked sound, your hand slipping out of his disheveled, soaked hair and digging your nails into the dirt.
“A couple kicks and a punch and you’re done?” he mocked, looking down and spitting onto your aching clit, his bloody saliva trickling down your cunt and over his thrusting fingers. “I chase you down and tackle you onto the ground like an animal, and all you can do is beg for more. What a sick girl…”
Your orgasm was rearing its head, barrelling towards you faster than ever. Your words were garbled and your maons were pathetic, and Mingi was eating it up.
The onslaught of rain nearly drowned out your desperate cries and Mingi's groans. He let go of your wrist, no longer worried you’d run from him. You were like putty in his hands, melting into his touch and submitting to him like he was your God.
He unbuttoned his jeans and hastily slipped them down just enough to let his cock spring free, and he swears he’s never been harder in his entire fucking life.
“C’mon baby, cum on my fingers, show me how much you love being put in your place, show me how bad you want me to fuck you so hard you go stupid. Come on, come on…”
His fingers only continued to abuse your poor cunt, and you were cumming in no time, your breath leaving your lungs as your vision flashed white.
Mingi gave you no time to catch your breath; you didn’t even get halfway through your orgasm before he slipped his fingers out of you, filling your empty, fluttering cunt right after by shoving his aching cock into you, bottoming out in one brutal thrust.
His fingers were in your mouth before you could even register he was inside of you, pressing back against your throat. You could taste his blood, his spit, your arousal on his fingers as he slid them up and down against your pretty tongue like he was fucking your mouth, slow and sensual in comparison to how he rutted his dick in and out of you, legs shaking as each stroke dragged against that spot deep in your belly.
His hips smacked against yours in a punishing rhythm as you rode out your orgasm on his dick. Mingi fucked you against the earth like you owed him your life. The wet slaps echoed off the trees, his own snarls of delight flowing straight to your ears, the smile on his face nothing short of wicked.
He pulled his fingers from your mouth, wiping the back of them against your cheek, smearing your own saliva across your flushed face.
“S-so fucking filthy..” he groaned, slapping your cheek, a gentle burn settling into your soft skin. He gripped your jaw, squishing your cheeks so your lips puckered. So sweet looking. He landed a second slap against your other cheek before sliding his palm across your jaw and finding its home around your throat, squeezing just enough to make your peripherals go dark.
Your eyes rolled, every thrust of his hips scraping your back against the rough ground. You were covered in bruises and scratches, and you looked beautiful. Littered in purple and red, the moon casts a white glow on your sensitive flesh as Mingi drives his cock into you over and over and over at a pace so maddening you swore he was in your ribcage.
Mingi felt you squeeze around him, and he knew you were cumming again. You weren’t even able to register yourself cumming, the whole time it had just been pure blinding pleasure that was making it hard for you to even realize what was happening to your body, you were feeling so good it was like one, impossibly long orgasm.
“Oh, beautiful…” Mingi drawled, slowing his hips just to roughly thrust up into you once, twice, and you were cumming again already.
“You can’t stop cumming, can you? Like it when I fuck you like you’re mine? When I take what I want from you?” Mingi only relished in the fact that you were too cockdrunk to even answer him, giving you just one moment of peace before he sped up his hips again, fucking into your, snug, wet cunt so hard your thighs were shaking like you had just run a marathon.
“Of course you do, baby..” he growled, answering for you, his hand sliding down to land a harsh slap against your clit. “You like it when you don’t have to use your stupid little brain, so I can use your pretty body and fuck you like my personal doll. You aren’t human to me, slut.”
Mingi felt himself getting close, and your broken moans and helpless cries only spurred him on further, as you lost your wits to each other.
“I’m gonna fuck you full of me, pretty baby.” he leaned down and swallowed your lips in a hungry kiss, biting your tongue and moaning when the sweet taste of your blood filled his mouth.
“Gonna cum in this pussy over…” he punctuated each word with a deep, heavy thrust. “Over.. and over.. And over again- shit… til you pass out, and I’ll use you while you sleep, j-just to fuck you back awake.” His own voice was raw and broken, and you only moaned louder at his gruesome promises. To use your body until you broke.
You were cumming again, and this time your vision blacked. You were sure you were done for, but you were still awake, still kicking.
“Poor baby, you can take it. You were made for this. You were made to take me.” He stilled his hips for a brief second, moaning deeply into your mouth, his tongue sliding over yours as his cum filled you up. He held himself inside of you, grinding in you deep to make sure his cum was fucked into you so it wouldn’t spill out.
But he was only still for a second, before he was panting, ripping his mouth from yours and latching his teeth onto your collarbones, fucking his cum back into you, grinning like a madman.
“Yeah, yeah, yeah. ‘S all you’re good for slut.” He whined, his hips relentless against you as the cycle started all over again, the rain never letting up, his cock fucking into you like you were built to withstand centuries of use.
“It’s all you’re fucking good for, it's all you’ll ever be.”
Your brain was hazy, Mingi making no move to give you any breaks any time soon. You were his little project, to mold and shape and use until you break. To fuck until your belly swelled and your head emptied.
♡ — Pairing: Priest!Jeong Yunho x Reader
♡ — Synopsis: The Priest has his favorite sinner, his favorite forbidden fruit.
♡ —Rating: Smut, 18+ Minors DNI!
♡ — Word Count: 2.7k
♡ —Content warning: Smut, Blowjobs, Religious guilt, Religious Imagery, Unprotected sex, riding, Gender Neutral reader (I try), Exhibitionism, Reader degrades Yunho and he's super into it, Kinda proofread? , Yunho is a freak freak
♡ — a/n: this is a repost, from my old account to my new one.
...To be honest, Yunho does not remember where this perverted fixation on you had started. You’re nothing more than a filthy sinner, someone that Yunho should have stayed away from, from the very moment he laid eyes on you. But you were too enticing for him. Maybe this had started when you accidentally caught him jerking off to a photo of you in his office. Or maybe it started when you had lured him into the confession booth, with those seductive eyes.
Well, whatever it was that started all this… now Yunho can’t get enough of you.
"Forgive me, Father, for I have sinned." Yunho gasps out, his voice slightly strained, his hands gripping the handles of the confession booth desperately. His grip was so tight, that his knuckles were turning white.
Here you were, between his legs as he sat in the confession booth, his cock deep down your throat. He gasps out and whimpers at how fucking good you feel, your warm mouth taking in all of him. It feels like pure bliss, his heavy cock twitching against your warm tongue.
…This is not what a priest does. A lingering sense of guilt rests in his stomach, a pit chewing at him. Yunho was aware that what he was doing was wrong. If by some miracle he wasn’t damned, this was certainly the nail in the coffin.
Each quickie or blowjob you give, in the confession booth or his office, only lures him in deeper, hook and sinker. You're like a drug to him, and he's addicted…
Yunho can’t lie and say he doesn’t feel a bit of shame. The never-ending guilt and shame of doing these sinful things in a place considered Holy. What type of priest is he? What type of priest has he become?
… A dirty fucking one, that’s for sure. He’s so addicted to you and your body, trying to find the next wild or bizarre thing to do that puts them at a high risk of being caught…
His cock twitches even more at the idea, another moan slipping his pretty, plush lips. God, you’re so fucking good at being a slut for him.
But suddenly, Yunho was snapped out of thoughts, at the sound of the door to the other side of the confession booth opening, and the shuffling of clothing. Yunho's eyes widened, his face flushing red. What the fuck? Didn’t he put up a sign he would not be hosting confessions today? Had he forgotten?
The logical thing to do was pull you off his cock and take the confession. That’s what a good priest would do. However… The idea that he has to listen to someone repent their sins to their priest, all while getting his cock sucked and staying quiet is so hot to him... Yunho really was a pervert, wasn't he?
He quietly mutters another apology under his breath, as his hand tightens its grip on your hair, guiding you to keep a steady place as you blow him. Who was the apology for? Not even Yunho knows.
"Bless me, Father, for I have sinned." A man speaks softly, the strain in his voice obvious. He had been crying prior, and in a heartbroken manner, came to Yunho to help find some peace. Your eyes are glued on Yunho, who clears his throat, preparing to reply.
He lets out another low groan, his hips instinctively bucking towards your eager mouth. His fingers tighten around your hair, guiding your movements.
…How is he supposed to care about someone else's sins when all he can think about is how much he wants to bend you over right now?
You quite truly are the forbidden fruit.
"Go on, my child" Yunho finally begins, his voice shaky and filled with lustful need. God help him, but it feels so wrong yet oh-so-right at the same time.
The other person on the other side didn't hear how Yunho sounded different, probably too grief-stricken to notice or care. He begins to talk, occasionally stopping to hiccup or sob. Yunho was trying to focus on this story, his mind split between processing this man’s story and relishing the warm sensation of your mouth enveloping his cock.
For just a moment, Yunho feels guilty about what he is doing while this poor man repents his sins.
But you don’t.
Carefully, while locking eyes with him, you slowly took more of Yunho’s cock deeper into your mouth, deepthroating him. His eyes widened as he watched you, biting his lip so hard he could taste crimson metallic blood. It oozes out of the wound and threatens to spill down his chin.
You took him all in, the tip of your nose pressed against his skin, the sight so erotic Yunho wished he could be like this forever. Your sweet, plush lips around his cock…
Fuck, you’re going to be the death of him.
"What...what sins have you committed?" Yunho manages to choke out, his words barely coherent as he struggles to maintain control. His body tenses up, muscles clenching as he fights against the overwhelming urge to cum. Did this man already tell Yunho about his sins? He’s not even paying attention at this point.
Thankfully, the man hadn’t told Yunho his sins, and he did just that. Yunho can hear the man’s voice trembling, as he voices the sins he committed, that led him to this very confession booth. Yunho couldn’t help but roll his eyes. The sins he mentioned were not worthy of showing up here, not even in the slightest.
His grip on your hair tightens further, pulling you closer until there's no space left between your lips and his body. He starts thrusting shallowly, using your mouth like his own personal sex toy. "Tell me everything," he commands breathlessly, his voice low and husky with desire. "Don't leave anything out..."
Is he stalling? Is Yunho hoping that the man’s tragic story takes up enough time for Yunho to finally climax? Not even he knows.
What he should have done was just bless him and forgive his sins already… Well, that could only happen if he wasn’t such a pervert. The idea that this random man finds out is hotter than any fantasty Yunho could come up with.
*"...and that's why I'm here," the voice from outside continues, sounding broken-hearted and remorseful.
But Yunho can hardly concentrate on the man’s words. Every fiber of his being screams for release, begging him to let go and surrender himself fully to pleasure. A soft whimper escapes him as you constrict your throat even more- such a simple action sends shockwaves through his body.
"Well..." His mind was too fuzzy to come up with a specific answer. His brain scurried to find a simple basic answer, one to satisfy this man so he could get the hell out faster. He finally responds after what felt like ages with, "It seems that your penance will involve many prayers and hours spent kneeling before God." How ironic.
With those words hanging heavy in the air, Yunho gives one final push into your welcoming mouth. A soft shuddered sigh leaves his lips, his head tilted forward, as his locks of black hair stick to his forehead, littered with beads of sweat.
You slightly cough as he grips your hair tighter and holds your head down, as he releases hot cum down your throat. It overflows, some of it escaping the corners of your mouth, mixed with some of your saliva, dripping down the base of his cock, and down his balls. It most definitely ruined his robes, but to be honest, Yunho couldn't care less.
"Oh, thank you, Father." The grief-stricken man thanks Yunho multiple times, his voice full of joy and relief. He wasn’t even aware of what had been happening next door. The newly repented man leaves the confession booth, leaving Yunho and you alone here.
As you were finally pulled off his softening cock, you couldn’t help but softly cough out, having managed to swallow all that Yunho had given you. “...You’re a fucking pervert, you know.” You couldn’t help but gasp out, trying to catch your breath.
Yunho couldn’t help but narrow his eyes at you. You’re correct, but why must you be so vulgar about it? “A pervert? Is that what you think of me?” He softly mused, his hand letting go of your hair, his hands almost instinctively petting it, to smooth it out. For a moment, Yunho had to admire how divine you looked in the dim lighting of the confession booth.
“You seemed super fucking turned on about the idea someone could have discovered us…” You commented in a very curt, straightforward manner. “...That's something only a pervert would get off to.” A sly smile forms on your face as Yunho's face slightly flushes red. Again, you might be right, but why so blunt about it?
He swallows as he watches you strip your clothes off in a nonchalant manner, his cock somehow hardening yet again. You and your cursed spell.
"...You're right," Yunho finally admitted softly, his hands reaching for your bare hips, feeling the soft flesh underneath his fingertips. He gives a possessive squeeze, his eyes rolling to the back of his head as his mind runs crazy with lust and desire. He pulls you in more, having you straddle Yunho. "I am a pervert. And you're the reason why."
His hands roam and touch every part of you he can, committing it to memory. He can never get enough of your body. He’s utterly hooked.
"I can't help myself around you. You drive me crazy..." Yunho’s voice is deep and sensual, as he pulls you in even closer to him. His lips then began to press kisses all over your bare chest. You couldn’t help but let out a shuddered sigh, your head tilted back in pure bliss.
…All his life, Jeong Yunho had devoted himself to the name of Christ and God. It feels with each feverish kiss he presses on your delicate skin, more and more of his sanity slips away. The delicate braid of his faith in his religion, unraveled string by string. You were the one he wanted to spend and dedicate the rest of his life worshipping.
To prove his point, Yunho captures your nipple between his teeth, biting down just hard enough to elicit a gasp from your parted lips. "Mmm, but I bet you love it, just as much as I do." He murmured in a husky manner, his eyes looking up at you. A crazed look of insanity, lust, and devotion was swirling in those brown eyes of him, signifying that this priest was long gone.
You couldn’t help but nod, little moans slipping past your lips with each kiss, each hickey, and each bite Yunho leaves on you, marking you in a way only a sinner could.
“Oh, yes I do, Father.” You moan out, peering down and snickering to yourself as Yunho’s ears slightly flush red. You can’t get enough of teasing him.
His cock eagerly twitches against your needy hole, and you lifted your hips up just enough, positioning yourself to be a bit more comfortable.
Knees planted on either side of Yunho’s beefy thighs, one hand on the handle of the confession booth and the other on Yunho’s shoulder, you lazily roll your hips over the sensitive tip, watching the priest under you shudder.
“Don’t tease me like that.” Yunho desperately hisses between his teeth, his hands firmly gripping your hips. Once his tip was kissing against your hole, Yunho couldn’t help but let out a trembling moan once you finally sank down on him.
A sweet moan leaves your lips as his big cock stretches you out, your velvety walls pulsing and eagerly milking him, his tip pressed right against that sweet spot deep in you. “Oh yes, Father-” You moaned out, as you began to roll your hips, bouncing on Yunho’s cock.
Deep moans leave Yunho’s lips, he’s absolutely mesmerized by you. You look so angelic riding him, so ethereal. Liquid pleasure courses through Yunho's veins, but he doesn’t even have time to relish in it.
In the midst of his pleasure-filled haze, Yunho’s ears pick up once again on the confession booth door next to him opening. What the fuck?!
Suddenly, without thinking, Yunho puts his hand to your mouth and shoves his fingers in. His fingers press against your tongue, causing you to slightly cough, any noises afterward muffled. On the other side, it’s an older woman’s voice. “Father forgive me, for I have sinned.”
His heart beats out of his chest, that same thrill he got from earlier coursing through his veins. The thrill of potentially being caught is too addicting for Yunho to just give up. As his free hand gently guides you to keep bouncing on his cock, he clears his throat, and he speaks. “What seems to be troubling you, my child? Speak freely.”
His mind is melting. Yunho’s eyes are fixated on your form, the way you bounce on his aching cock, the way you look taking his fingers in your mouth, the way your spit drools down your chin. He’s trying to focus on the lady next to him. He really is. You’re just too distracting. You just simply feel too good, wrapped around his cock.
With sniffles, the woman next to him began to confess her sins in a soft, repentant voice, which only made Yunho roll his eyes again. This was once again petty bullshit that did not require to be forgiven.
His eyes rolled to the back of his head as you then began to grind your hips for more pleasure, and by accident, a soft moan left his lips. Your eyes narrow in delight as Yunho’s eyes widen in horror, his hand squeezing your hip so hard there would surely be bruises by tomorrow.
“F-Father are you okay?” The woman on the other asks in a concerned manner. She has no idea. She has no clue what is happening next to her.
“Apologies, my child…” Yunho stammers out slightly, trying to compose himself to respond. “...I slept wrong on my neck last night. Just had some pain.”
Really? Neck pain? Is that the best he can do? Yunho could feel your tongue move as you giggled underneath his fingers, and he shot you a glare to behave yourself.
The woman clears her throat, before continuing her tale. “Please Father, what should I do?”
That’s a great question. What should she do?
Yunho grits his teeth as he begins to thrust his hips upwards, his cock hitting that spot that makes you see stars. A knot forms quickly in your abdomen, signaling that you aren’t gonna last long. As your tongue decides to swirl around his long fingers, Yunho’s eyes roll to the back of his head, his own orgasm approaching quickly. His eyes clenched shut as he fights to maintain control, even an ounce of sanity.
“Forgiveness can be found through prayer and penance, my child," Yunho finally manages to say, his voice strained and husky. “Now repeat after me: 'I am truly sorry for my sins...'”
As the woman in the booth next to him begins to recite the phrase, Yunho's thrusts become more erratic, desperately chasing that sweet forbidden release. He's teetering on the edge, the sweet taste of Nirvana is just right on the tip of his tongue.
Your eyes roll back to the back of your head as you came, your juices coating and making a mess on Yunho’s thighs. If Yunho’s fingers were not in your mouth, your moans would have been so loud right now.
Yunho shudders at the sight of your orgasm that he can’t hold back anymore, pulling your hips down on his cock as he came, shooting streams of cum into your sweet hole.
He lets out a low shaky exhale, as the lady in the booth next to him thanks Father Yunho, leaving in a hurry.
The only sound that could be heard is the soft ragged breathing that came from you and Yunho, trying to catch your breaths from such an experience.
“...Told ya that you were a pervert.” You grinned slightly, as you slowly lifted yourself off his softening cock, some of his cum slightly leaking out.
Yunho, who’s still trying to catch his breath, narrows his eyes but chooses not to comment on it. As much as he hates to admit it, you were right.
and neither does a braindead slut like yourself, who simply wants to get their guts pounded by said demon.
Who cares if God is watching? I’m sure he wouldn’t mind a little show. So…
Which Demon Will You Summon?
Demon!Ateez x f!reader
summary: sweet naive you, got your hands on a grimoire, a book chock full of information on summoning demons. so many choices, so many desires, which one will you choose? can't make up your mind, why not have them all.
notes: we hit 2k. woah. this is my thank you to you guys, my rendition of the boys as demons and their sins, and their preferred way to wreck the desperate slut who summoned them(you)
listening to: strange candy- cane hill
enjoy!
Lust: disordered desire for or inordinate enjoyment of sexual pleasure
Jung Wooyoung
He fucks for fun. He fucks for the thrill and the high alone. He gets drunk off his own pleasure and doubles off of your own.
Pressed against the wall, legs wrapped tight around his waist, your hands held tight purchase on the black jagged horns that protruded from his skull. His hands envelop your waist in a possessive hold, his thick cock splitting you open over and over and over. Your wetness leaks down your legs each time he drives his dick so deep into you, you stop breathing.
His horns are so sharp that they leave cuts on your palms when he drives you further up the wall with each deep thrust. He’s growling with a wicked smile on his face, his gaze glued to the way your pussy desperately sucks him back in every time he pulls his hips back.
“Fuck look at you, take it.” Wooyoung groans, running his tongue over his top teeth, your moans catching when his fat tip runs over that sweet spot deep into your belly. Your legs shake around him, and your eyelids flutter pathetically when he dips his head down to lick a wet stripe up the side of your throat, and you could feel the way the fork of his tongue splits over your Adam’s apple.
“Such a sweet little thing, taking cock like a whore. My little whore… wish I could take you with me.” He moans around a laugh and pushes his cock deeper into you with a slow grind, smiling when he feels your poor cunt clench around him like a vice.
“Drag you down with me,” he whispers against your ear sweetly, a stark contrast to the mean way he bullies his dick into your guts. “Chain you up, so I can use you whenever I feel like it.”
Agile, deep strokes, every push and pull of his hips has your brain melting like ice. “And trust me, baby, I feel like it all the time.”
The force of his hips is leaving mean red marks on your inner thighs, and he hikes you further up the wall with a grunt as he purrs lowly when he feels you cum around his cock, a thin creamy ring forming at the base of his length.
“Fuck you’re so nasty, this what you wanted?” He breathes, admiring the way your blood spills down your wrists along your arms every time your grip on his horns tightens. You just couldn’t help yourself; it was too much.
“I might break you doll, you don’t mind do ya?” When you don’t answer with words and only broken cries and moans, Wooyoung decided that you didn’t care if you broke, and all you cared about was cumming. He tends to have that effect on humans, reducing their brains to pleasure-driven mush, fucking the thoughts and the morals out of their weak, pliant bodies.
It’s how he liked it anyway.
“Don’t care what you think anyway,” he bites, rolling his hips nice and deep, and your breath stutters. “I’d fuck you until the sun burns me alive just to keep hearing that beautiful voice.”
He’s had you in every position imaginable, for endless, mind breaking hours, and you were out of it by time he was called back to hell. Bloodied, numb, and positively satisfied.
He made sure to leave a permanent mark on your bruised body; he likes to think of it as a speed dial. Next time you want him to snap you in half, all you have to do was think about him, and he’d be there.
It’s probably a mistake, but Wooyoung didn’t care if you end up regretting it; he just couldn’t get enough of you.
Greed: the immoderate love or desire for riches and earthly possessions
Choi San
One could argue, pussy is, in fact, an earthly possession. And San would drown in yours if he could die.
Laid on your sheets, writhing, squirming, sobbing in absolute bliss as his long, thick, split tongue explores every nook and cranny of your cunt. Slipping out of your stretched cunt to suckle on your clit with deep, wet groans, drinking every sick gush of your arousal like it was keeping his blood pumping.
“Such a sweet fucking pussy…” he moans, words muffled as he can’t spend a second away from your dribbling cunt, addicted to your taste and the way your walls squeeze around his tongue when he presses the end of the muscle up against your g-spot.
His clawed hands grip your hips, his sharp nails digging into the bone, pinning your lower body down so you can’t move, forcing you to stay still while he eats. One hand grips his left horn, your other clawing at his hand that digs into your hips, attempting to ground yourself as he takes all of you in his mouth, loud, wet, obscene slurps that were embarrassing to listen to.
“F-fuck-!” You cry, your thighs vibrating against the sheets as San’s long, imposing tongue works your pussy out like he’s playing a game. It felt so good it hurts, your entire body blooming with an overwhelming heat that makes your toes curl and your mouth pool with drool.
“C’mon slut,” he growls into your cunt, the vibrations of his voice sending shocks through your body. “You're gonna cum until you run dry, I want every bit, taste so fucking amazing.”
One hand leaves your hip, only to replace it with his other arm, pressing his entire arm against your hips and holding you down that way. His now free hand finds its way to your entrance, sliding a finger inside your slippery cunt with ease, his finger slides right beneath his tongue inside of you, and your back arches and your moan breaks in your throat.
He laughs breathlessly when your entire body shivers as another orgasm crashes over you, your pussy gushing all around his tongue and all over his face. “Fuck there it is. Such an obedient little girl.”
And of course he doesn’t stop, gulping obscenely, his throat bobbing each time he swallows another mouthful of your juices.
San slips a second finger into your cunt, slithering his tongue out of you and wrapping it around your puffy clit. His fingers press up against your walls, slow come-hither motions that make your stomach cave in, all the while his tongue tugs and swirls around your clit.
“My my, I’m surprised you haven’t passed out on me.” He laughs, his heavy eyes watching the way your face contorts, and your mouth falls open in drunken whines. “That’s not an invitation. Stay with me, you’re much prettier cumming awake than unconscious.”
He drags countless orgasm after orgasm out of you, all with just his tongue, his warm, hot mouth, his fangs gently scratching your clit whenever he suctions his soft lips to it.
It’s all too much, and it makes San feel drunk.
He’s addicted, and he wants you to get just as addicted as him so he can come back anytime and feed on your sweet cunt until you die. He’ll sink his cum covered fangs into the plush flesh of your thighs and drink your blood with a deep groan, his body buzzing at your sweet taste all around.
San has always been a sugar fiend, and you were just the perfect indulgence.
Gluttony: over-indulgence and over-consumption of anything to the point of waste.
Song Mingi & Jeong Yunho
If you summon them with the intention of getting one, think again. You’re getting both, whether that’s what you wanted or not.
Mingi and Yunho are a package deal, no more and no less.
They don’t take turns; they take what they want, when they want, even if the chance of breaking their toy was rather high. But you could handle them. Two was always better than one anyway.
Mingi stands behind you, your back pressed to his chest, his thick, hard cock buried deep in your ass, Yunho stands in front of you, his chest pressed to your front as he slowly slides his cock in and out of your cunt. You feel so fucking full it’s insane, sandwiched between these bewitching demons, your thighs wrapped around Yunho’s waist, His hands holding your hips, Mingi’s hands holding under your arms, keeping your limp body upright as they use you like the toy you were to them.
Mingi’s thrust with slow, heavy strokes, while Yunho fucks your cunt like it would kill him to give it to you slowly. And all the whole, their warm lips are pressed against either side of your neck, dragging their glinting fangs against your sweat-slick skin, whispering in your ear with low purrs and deep coos.
Balls deep in your ass, Mingi moans against your skin. “So fucking tight, look at him, baby. Be a good fuckdoll and have some manners.”
Yunho, stroking your guts so deep your brain is shutting off with every thrust. “Didn’t think you’d get us both, huh, sweetheart? But you’ve got it, a big girl like you can handle us.”
Their hands roam aimlessly, squeezing your flesh and scratching your skin, littering your throat in bites, the contrasting paces of their strokes in your stretched holes making you spill drool down your chin. Held upright only by the force of their bodies pressing against either side of you, all you could do was stay between them and take their thick cocks like a good whore.
The tightness of your holes with the combined pressure of their cock on either side of you made their own head swim with pleasure, the softness of your body making their dicks only grow harder inside of you.
“Be careful, Yunho.” Mingi groans, forcing his cock deeper into your stretched hole, wincing at the tightness. “We just might snap her in half.”
Yunho laughs and moves his hand away from your hip to land a rough slap against your clit. Your entire body jerks between them, and a sad whine slips from your lips. “Look at her, she’d love that, wouldn’t you doll?” He whispers in your ear with a wicked grin, and you moan pathetically.
They begin cooing in either ear at the same time, and your brain overloads as their low voices overlap one another.
“Want us to fucking break you like a glow stick honey?”
“I’ll cum inside of you so much you’ll be leakin for weeks.”
“Think we should switch? Want me in your ass next slut?”
“Don’t really care what you want, you’ll like it no matter what we give you.”
“Such a beautiful whore, slick and obedient. My favorite.”
You’re so overwhelmed by their voice, their touch, their cocks, when you pass out from the stimulation, they keep using your limp, lifeless body until you’re awoken by their strokes, roughening, and their fangs sinking into your shoulders.
“There she is.” They groan at the same time against the shells of your ears, and they’re fucking you renewed vigor, and when you lock eyes with Mingi, you realize they had switched while you were blacked out.
You were in for a long night, and they would make sure to make the most out of it. They usually do end up breaking their dolls after they’re done playing with them, but you’re doing surprisingly well.
Best not to jinx it.
Wrath: uncontrolled feelings of anger, rage, or hatred
Choi Jongho
He fucks with a rage that is borderline terrifying. Fucks your pussy like he hates you. When really he doesn’t, he’s more than grateful to have a sweet cunt like yours to beat up, but god does it really get to his head.
His rough hands wrapped around your neck, squeezing as he ruts his cock into you with mean precision, growling lowly each time the slap of skin hits his ears. Jongho smiles when your eyes roll, and your breathing slows. He squeezes just until the light starts to leave your eyes, letting you breathe just when you start to see the pearly gates, and every time it makes your orgasm hit harder than the last.
“Stupid bitch gets off on being treated like a fleshlight, huh?” He squeezes your jaw and rolls his hips into you, watching as the tears spill down your cheeks and down your neck.
Your body is littered in bruises and bites, Jongho taking the liberty of marking you up so rough you’d be sure to be sore for months to come, a burning reminder of how he put you in your place like the subhuman you were. Just an object to help him get off, and lord, were you sweet.
He also fucks your throat like oxygen wasn’t something you needed to live. His balls slapping against your chin as he drives his cock deep in your mouth, your sad gagging only making him want to blow a load down your throat and watch you swallow it like you were hungry. His hand buried deep in your hair when he forces you to your knees so you could suck him off like he was your god.
He’ll use your hair as leverage to help piston his throbbing cock down your throat, giving you only a mere second to breathe before he fucking your mouth like it’s a second cunt. Ruthless and unforgiving, Jongho has no mercy with humans, as he finds the disposable, there will always be another one. But you were pliable. Flexible and resilient, he might be able to use you a few more times before your body gives out.
He’ll reward you with a few slaps to your cunt while he bullies his cock into you once again, the muscle in his jaw ticking in anticipation when he feels your body convulse like you were in heat, cumming around him with a sharp cry.
“Slutty girl can still cum from being treated like a set of holes? You’re disgusting.” And it only makes him want to fuck you harder, and of course, he does.
His thin black tail slips around your body and wraps around your throat, his arms idle at his side when he rolls his body into you, his cock kisses spots so deep it feels like he is in your bones. His spaded tail squeezed the base of your throat perfectly, your vision tunneling as you felt yourself teetering to another orgasm.
“Fuckin’ whore.” He growls under his breath, trying to mask the way your tight pussy makes his entire body vibrate with pleasure. He’ll smack you around a few time to make sure you haven’t blacked out on him.
It’s no fun to fuck them while they aren’t on earth, he likes watching you cry.
Jongho wouldn’t admit that you were one of the favorites that have ever summoned him in his countless years of existence, but you took his cock so fucking good it was hard to ignore it.
So when he finally decides that he wants to keep you alive, he lets you rest, just so he can have you at full strength next time he craves your body. So he can fuck you longer, fuck you harder, really push you past your limits.
He wants you ruined before he’s had all his fun with you. He gets all the uses he can out of his toys before he disposes of them, and you were certainly no exception.
Sloth: laziness as is manifested by the willful avoidance of work
Kang Yeosang
He likes to watch you work for him. He likes to watch your desperation for him to give you what you want. You summoned him after all, show him how bad you need it.
He sits back on the chair, lazily resting his cheek on his fist as he watches you wrap your pretty soft lips around his sizable cock, your hand wrapped around the bottom part of his shaft as you drool all over his dick.
Your eyes water as you attempt to take him down your throat. Yeosang’s hand gently strokes your head like you were a puppy, coaxing you and encouraging you to take more of him, subtly pushing your head further down the length of him.
“C’mon, don’t be shy, show me how much of a slut I know you are.”
You obey like the whore you are, taking him further into your mouth, gagging when he hits the back of your throat. He twitches against your tongue, and you hear his breath hitch slightly.
“Atta girl…” Yeosang growls, gripping locks of your hair and pushing your head up and down his cock, fucking your mouth lazily. “That’s more like it.”
You swirl your tongue around his tip, every time he pulls your head back up, gagging each time he pushes you back down. His claws dig into your scalp, and you can see the way his tail twitches behind him in bliss.
When he thinks you’ve proved yourself enough, he’ll have you ride his cock. Sitting yourself down on his dick and gasping when he fills you to the brim, so huge it nearly hurts. He hands leisurely massages your hips, gently urging your body to grind down on his cock. You rock your hips slowly, feeling so full that it makes your breath stutter.
“You can do better than that, sweetheart.” Yeosang clicks his tongue and digs his claws into your hip. “Don’t get lazy.”
You inhale and slowly lift your hips, your cunt sliding up the length of him with a slick sound, before dropping back down on it with a plap. Yeosang’s mouth spreads into a sick grin, pleased with you as you begin setting a slow pace, riding his dick so prettily.
“Yeah…” he sighs and lets his head loll back, his sharp jawline on clear display. “Such good listening, slut. Work for me…”
You bounce on his cock, a desperate, filthy mess as you chase your own high with his twitching length. Each time you slide back down, a fresh gush of arousal coats his bare thighs.
He’ll eventually help you out, slipping his thumb over your clit and slowly thrusting his hips up to match your bouncing. You cry aloud when his tip ruts against that spot over and over, and your hands dig into his shoulders as he helps you out.
“Pretty, perfect girl….” He moans around a dark laugh, grinding his hips up into your pussy. “Knew you wanted it bad.”
His forked tongue slips out of his mouth as he pulls you towards him, slotting his lips with yours and sliding his tongue down your throat. You choke as he ruts his hips harder up into you, all the while his tongue basically fucks your mouth.
“Such a needy bitch…” he slurs into your mouth, and you cry pathetically at his more than truthful words.
You’re cumming around him before you can think too much about it, and your walls quiver around him. He growls into your mouth, and he’s picking you up, shoving your back to the floor, and ravaging you.
“Yeah, you earned it, baby.” He slips his tongue out of your mouth and laves it all over your collarbones. “Take it slut, fucking take it.”
He ruts into you at a pace so intense you could barely breathe, and Yeosang’s low voice in your ear sends shockwaves to your lower tummy.
Hard work always pays off as most people say, and you were reaping your rewards with a drunk smile on your face.
Don’t worry, you have plenty more work to do tonight, but for now, he’ll let you lie back. Cause no matter what, he’s not giving that poor pussy a break until sunrise.
Pride: a sense of security with one's identity, performance, or accomplishments
Park Seonghwa
Seonghwa likes to watch himself fuck. He knows he’s beautiful, and he knows he looks amazing breaking in a slut like you.
So in front of a mirror, he had you bent over on your knees, your back arched below him as he bullies his cock into your pussy, your juices drooling onto the floor each time his hips smack against your ass.
Seonghwa’s eyes remain on the mirror, watching with earnestness at the way your face contorts each time his tip kisses the back of your cunt, his own body rolling with each stroke, his thin black tail curled around your waist to keep you arched as he drives his dick into you.
“Look at us, baby.” He smirks, grabbing a handful of your ass and squeezing with a groan. “Taking me so deep, so beautiful.”
He knows he’s good at fucking and he loves to make noise about it, proud of the way your voice breaks with each stroke, the way your eyebrows furrow when his tail tightens around your stomach, his hands on your hips as he pulls you back against his hips to match the momentum of his cock.
“Such a sweet, divine girl you are.” He praises lowly, slowing his thrusts to a deep grind, watching in the mirror how your slick falls to the floor in a shiny puddle between your thighs.
“You like watching yourself get split, baby?” He leans down and presses his lips to your ear, burying his dick even further into you. “You’re so fucking pretty…”
You whine abashedly, and Seonghwa chuckles, dragging his canines over your shoulder and to the side of your neck, licking and sucking dark marks into your shiny skin, his eyes remaining lifted to watch your expression shift and fall at each sensation.
He’ll eventually move so he has you spread in front of the mirror, so you can actually see in full the way his thick cock slips in and out of your creaming pussy, moving slowly and with enough purpose that you could hear and see everything. Every twitch and every drop of slick. The wet sheen you’ve left on his length.
Seonghwa watches, mesmerized by the way you suck him in greedily, your legs twitching at your sides as he manages to fuck you even deeper in this exposing position.
“Aren’t we beautiful?” He moans into your ear, and your whole body shivers. “I could watch my cock disappear inside of you all day.”
He finds your body art, every curve and every dip, perfect, molding to his body just right. You compliment him well, and it makes his chest swell, his ego thriving.
“Bet my cock would look so pretty coated in your cream.” He whispers against your throat, his strokes speeding up, your wetness helping him glide in and out with ease.
You shudder and cry out, clenching around him with a silent scream as you cum all over him, squirting all over the reflective glass of the full-length mirror, and Seonghwa laughs lowly against your ear.
“Fucking incredible.”
You couldn’t tell Seonghwa anything; his tail wraps around your body, the spade end of the appendage slowly circling your clit. It was too much, and your entire body was vibrating, bones and all.
Your hands desperately reach back to bury in his beautiful black hair, and Seonghwa groans against your ear when you tug nice and hard. His tip grazes that sweet spot over and over, and you feel like you're on the brink of insanity.
And Seonghwa found it absolutely alluring.
“Cum for me, baby,” he nips at your ear, and your body responds almost instantly. “Make a mess on my cock.”
He makes you watch yourself cum around him, his hand held your chin in his firm grip so you couldn’t look away from the mirror.
It was torture in the best way.
Envy: a feeling of discontent or resentful longing aroused by someone else's possessions, qualities, or luck
Kim Hongjoong
Hongjoong doesn’t like the idea that you have let someone else have his cunt. He lays a sort of claim on girls the moment they summon him.
If they chose to summon him, they are immediately his. You belonged to him the moment you uttered his name, and he would drive it into your head for as long as needed.
Laying you flat on the ground, your stomach against the mattress, his body lying flat over your back as he fucks his cock into you so deep you feel it in your throat. Fucking load after load after load into you, your belly so full of his cum it spills out with a slick squelch with every stroke.
“Mine…” he groans against your ear, his arm curled around your throat, a possessive headlock that makes your brain fuzzy. “Mine, mine…”
Your belly is warm, his cock rubbing spots you didn’t even know you had in this prone position, you could feel anything and everything.
“My pussy, my mouth, my body, my soul…” he giggles lowly against your throat and sinks his sharp teeth into your flesh, groaning when your blood floods his tongue.
The arm around the front of your neck tightens, his cock throbs harder inside of you as he drinks from your neck, all the while his thrusts never slow, fucking his cum deeper and deeper into your body.
“You’ve given yourself to me, love. I own you.”
You’re so unbelievably cockdrunk you couldn’t even argue if you tried, nodding dumbly as he lays his claim on you.
“Yeah… all mine, baby.” He kisses the leaking bite mark on your neck, running his warm forked tongue over the wound. He rolls his hips, grinding his cock into your slick pussy, whining lowly when you clench so hard around him he thinks your cumming.
Good, the more you cum, the more you belong to him.
And when you can both feel the way his cock is so big it bulges through the flesh of your stomach, he nearly loses it.
“Keep cumming slut, don’t stop. Give yourself to me.” Hongjoong whispers filthy sweet nothings in your ears, and you swear you were drowning in his voice, and you could die happy here, and you were sure you would die fulfilled. And full.
“Gonna make you carry my babies,” he promises against your skin as he fucks another load into your body. “You’ll look so beautiful swelling with my children.”
Your brain wasn’t comprehending anything he was saying to you, and Hongjoong thought you were so adorable. So dumb and so pliant. You didn’t need your brain anyway; it was useless.
His tail wraps around your ankle and keeps your legs still as the pleasure makes your body shake beneath him, and he only laughs at your patheticness.
“Never gonna let you go. The other guys might not be able to take you back home, but I’ll drag you back to hell even if it kills me.”
You moan aloud and shatter around his cock again, and it only solidifies his plan to steal you away from the mortal realm.
He was sure nobody would miss you, lonely little girl.
warnings : smut, power imbalance, forbidden desire , size difference, fingering, cowgirl, very very VERY slight dumbification, nicknames
word count : 2.6k
author's note : hello.. this is my debut post.. idk how to write stuff like this goodbye
the soft glow of the desk lamp cast long shadows across the room, catching the sharp angles of yunho’s jawline. he looked impossibly tall even while seated, his broad shoulders dominating the space between you.
he tilted his head, his dark eyes tracking the frantic way your fingers picked at the hem of your sweater. the usual gentle warmth in his gaze was replaced by a sharp, intense focus that made your stomach flip.
"you're avoiding my eyes today," yunho noted. his voice was smooth, dropping an octave lower than usual. it carried the heavy weight of his authority, a reminder of the invisible boundary line drawn between your couch and his chair.
"i'm just tired," you lied softly, keeping your eyes glued to the rug.
you heard the rustle of fabric as he shifted. yunho leaned forward, resting his forearms on his knees. the sudden proximity closed the physical gap between you, making the air in the room feel suffocatingly thick. the power dynamic shifted instantly, he was the professional in complete control, and you were entirely exposed.
"we've been working together too long for you to use that excuse with me," he murmured. the words were a quiet command, demanding honesty. "look at me."
your breath hitched. slowing lifting your gaze, you met his eyes. there was a dangerous flicker of tension in his expression, an unspoken acknowledgement of the heavy friction that had been building between you for months. he was your therapist. he wasn't supposed to look at you like you were the only thing in the world that mattered. he wasn't supposed to let his gaze linger on your lips for a fraction of a second.
but he just did.
yunho’s knuckles flexed against his knee, his knuckles turning white as if he was actively forcing himself to stay anchored to his seat. the strict professional facade he usually wore perfectly was slipping, stretched thin by the sheer gravity of the tension pulling you both together.
"that's better," he whispered, his eyes locking onto yours with an intensity that made it hard to breathe. "now, tell me what you're really thinking about."
the rain outside seemed to quiet down, leaving nothing but the heavy, charged silence of the room. yunho tilted his head, a slow, dark smirk tugging at the corner of his lips. it was a jarring, thrilling contrast to his usual bright demeanour, it was like a shadow slipping over his warmth.
he uncrossed his legs and stood up. his towering frame completely dominated the small space, casting a long shadow directly over your lap. he took two slow, deliberate steps forward, stopping right at the edge of your couch.
"you look so small when you're nervous," yunho murmured, his deep voice carrying a low, mocking chuckle. the sound vibrated right through your chest. he was actively enjoying the control he held over you.
he leaned down, placing one of his notoriously large hands flat on the back of the sofa, right above your shoulder. his fingers splayed wide against the fabric, effectively trapping you beneath his frame. the sheer size of his hand made you hyper-aware of how easily he could overpower the strict professional boundaries keeping you apart.
"is the silence making you uncomfortable?" he asked softly, his face close enough that you could feel the warmth of his breath. he used his other hand to gently tap the side of his own jaw, pretending to think. "or is it just me?"
he was playing with you, subtly manipulating the dynamic to corner you verbally and physically. he knew exactly what he was doing to your heart rate.
"jeong yunho," you whispered, his actual name slipping out instead of his professional title.
yunho’s eyes darkened at the sound of his name on your lips. his large hand shifted on the sofa, his thumb brushing against the collar of your shirt, just barely grazing your skin. it was an intentional, forbidden breach of protocol, executed with terrifying calmness.
"that's dr. jeong in this room," he corrected, though his voice dropped to a husky, dangerous whisper. he leaned in a fraction closer, locking his gaze onto yours. "but i like how you say my name. do it again."
you swallowed hard, your throat tight as you looked up into the dark depths of his eyes. the sheer proximity was dizzying. your walls were chipping away, and instead of pulling back, you felt yourself leaning into his space.
that slow, deeply satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips once more. that alone was enough to make your head spin.
he stood up slowly. his towering 6'1" frame completely dominated the small office, instantly making the room feel smaller. He took two deliberate, unhurried steps across the floor, closing the gap until he stood directly over your couch, casting a long shadow across your lap.
before you could even process how close he was, he leaned down. He placed one of his notoriously large hands flat on the back of the sofa, right above your shoulder. his broad shoulders completely blocked out the rest of the room, isolating you entirely under his weight. the sheer size of his hand against the cushion made you hyperaware of how easily he had just bypassed the rules keeping you apart.
you swallowed hard, your throat tight as you looked up into the dark depths of his eyes. the sudden, intense proximity was dizzying. your walls were chipping away, and you felt yourself freezing under his touch.
"yunho," you breathed out again, softer this time, almost like a plea.
that same slow, deeply satisfied smirk tugged at the corner of his lips once more. but even then, it still had the same affect on you.
"good girl," he whispered, his thumb lingering on your collar, maintaining just enough light, agonising contact to keep you anchored right where he wanted you. He was dismantling your restraint with terrifying patience. "let it go. you don't have to put your walls up when you're with me. i won't punish you for being vulnerable, angel."
your knees felt weak against the cushions as you completely melted into his touch. you didn't pull away, lean back, or try to rebuild your walls. instead, your head tilted back slightly against the sofa, your eyes closing for a brief second as you let yourself sink entirely into the solid, heavy warmth of his presence.
a soft, helpless sigh escaped your lips, a quiet surrender that confessed everything you had been trying to hide.
yunho’s smirk widened just a fraction, a dark gleam of pure triumph flashing in his eyes. he loved seeing you like this. completely unraveled, stripped of your defenses and entirely dependent on his next move. he was drunk on the heavy, intoxicating gravity his control had.
"look at you," yunho whispered, his deep voice carrying that slow, mocking chuckle that sent a shiver straight down your spine. "so compliant all of a sudden."
his large hand slid fully off the back of the couch, his long fingers trailing down the side of your neck with agonising slowness. his palm was massive, hot against your skin, and it completely engulfed the side of your throat. his thumb rested directly over your pulse point, feeling the frantic, erratic thumping of your heart.
he didn't squeeze. he just held you there, his touch a gentle but unyielding reminder of the power dynamic he was dominating.
"you're shaking," he murmured, leaning down so close that his lips almost brushed the shell of your ear. the scent of his cedarwood cologne filled your senses, making your head spin. "is it because you're scared of what we're doing or because you've been waiting for me to do this for months?"
he tilted his head, his dark eyes locking onto yours as he forced you to look at him. he was chipping away at the very last piece of your restraint, leaving you entirely exposed in his shadow.
the shift happened so fast your breath caught in your throat.
yunho didn't give you a choice to answer. his large hand slid down from your neck, his fingers wrapping firmly around your waist while his other hand hooked securely under your thighs. with a single, effortless motion, his towering frame lifted you completely off the cushions. the sudden sensation of weightlessness made you gasp, your hands instinctively flying up to grip his broad shoulders.
instead of stepping away, yunho simply pivoted, taking your place on the couch. he sat down heavily where you had just been resting, smoothly pulling you down directly into his lap.
the physical contrast was dizzying. straddling his lap, you were acutely aware of how massive he was. his long legs framed yours, and his broad chest felt like a solid wall against your front. he looked up at you from below, but the power dynamic hadn't shifted at all. if anything, his control over you felt absolute.
"there," yunho murmured, his deep voice vibrating right against your thighs. his large hands rested heavily on your hips, pinning you to him. "much better."
he leaned up, his dark eyes locking onto your mouth. the mocking edge in his smile softened into pure, intense fixation. the forbidden tension between you pulled like a magnet, and when his fingers flexed against your waist, you closed the remaining distance, tilting your head down.
your lips finally met.
the kiss was slow, deep, and completely intoxicating. it carried the heavy weight of months of hidden glances, professional restraint, and unspoken desire. you melted completely against him, your fingers tangling into his hair as you gave in to the touch. he kissed you with a quiet, dominant hunger that made your head spin, his large hands anchoring you tightly to his lap.
but just as you completely lost yourself in the warmth of his mouth, yunho suddenly pulled back.
he didn't break the physical proximity entirely. he stopped just a fraction of an inch away, his hot breath brushing against your damp lips. a slow, deeply satisfied smirk returned to his face as he looked at your dazed, breathless expression.
"desperate." he muttered in a mocking tone, his eyes dropping to your lips shamelessly. your cheeks burned red at that, but he wasn't wrong. in fact, he was far from wrong.
everything about him made you dizzy. you've already lost your mind even though he hasn't even touched you properly. you were so pathetic, but you didn't really care. your eyes dropped back onto his lips once more, which didn't go unnoticed by him.
"so needy." he breathed out. his voice was making you so wet already.
your lips formed a pout, you just wanted.. no. needed him so bad. "yunho.." you mumbled, right when his hands were sliding down. your skirt already being ridden up was too beautiful for him to keep his hands to himself.
hand under your skirt, he found your laced panties, pushing it to the side to find your soaked clit.
"you're so wet, baby. that's adorable." he chuckled softly as he slipped one of his long, thin fingers in slowly. you let out a whiny moan without thought and god did it make him so hard it hurt.
he then slipped in a second finger, pumping both of them in and out of you slowly. it felt so good. with his thumb rubbing your clit gently, you were practically on cloud 9.
"you're so pretty.. my sweet girl." he mumbled against your mouth before kissing you hungrily once more. he was trying so hard to be gentle, if not he would've taken you so rough you'd be crying (which he does want to see).
his words weren't helping, you were practically creating a puddle on his fingers alone. he even dared to pick up the pace.
"i want you to cum on my fingers, can you do that for me? hmm?" he said so sweetly it was almost mocking. he then made sure to curl his fingers more, making you cry out.
eventually, you couldn't take it and came undone on his fingers while he kept saying praises that sounded sweet yet so mean at once. "look at you, you're doing so well for such a pathetic girl." he muttered right into your ear, his hot breath tickling you oh so sweetly as he pulled his fingers out gently.
he then undressed himself, letting his hard cock free. god it was long. just looking at it made you want to drool.
"i want you to ride me, can you do that, pretty?" he asked, but it wasn't really a question. it was more of a command. he was already lifting you up by the hips.
you slowly took him in, he made sure to not rush it and to give you time to adjust. he was watching you the whole time. noting how beautiful you were, all undone and needy just for him. he was in pure ecstasy.
he made sure you didn't take all of him yet as it might just be too much, even though that's what he really wanted. he let you adjust while his hands roamed your body as he kissed you all over with obvious hunger and slight aggression.
you then started moving up and down on his cock slowly, which took him by surprise for a minute. "aww, you're so desperate. i love it." he laughed softly, helping by thrusting up a bit.
he felt so good, he was so big and long. he was hitting all the right spots. each time you moved back down, you just kept soaking him all over. you couldn't help but be so loud.
his hands on your hips guided you, moving you up and down, eventually picking up the pace. he felt so good, you felt tears welling up and you eventually started to cry. he noticed and grinned lightly. "baby, don't cry." he cooed, but he wanted you to cry. in fact it just turned him on even more.
"you're so angelic.." he said through his grin, watching you cry as he fucked you. "i want to see you cum, doll. let go for me, hm?" he picked up the pace with his thrusts while pushing you up and down faster this time.
he was watching you, observing you. your eyes were glassy, face red, hair messy and clothes were disheveled. you were even prettier this way. you were the most beautiful thing he's ever seen, you even let out the most beautiful sounds he's ever heard, you even felt as beautiful as you looked.
"you're never like this. you always fought me when i tried to get closer, when i tried to bring down your walls." he started, you weren't even listening. you were just so focused on going up and down on his cock, he could tell but kept talking away. "but this time.. i didn't even have to try. you just let down your walls for me. pathetic, isn't it? you're not as tough as you say you are."
the entire time, you're just babbling absolute nonsense, moaning and holding onto him as if he was your lifeline. he was right where he wanted to be.
"cute little thing." he mumbled, looking you up and down slowly.
you eventually let go once more, cumming whilst in his arms once again. you let out a loud moan and your hands around his neck tightened. he was in just pure bliss watching you.
his sweet, innocent, helpless girl losing herself, being so vulnerable emotionally, physically and mentally.. it was truly fuelling his sex drive.
you collapsed in his arms, both of you panting. he held you gently, looked at you so sweetly. he treated you like you were made of glass, but it was very clear his true desire was to make the glass break.
if you got up to the end, thank you and i love you !! you're getting kissed mwah mwah !!! and yes i know this is bad... i got bored one day and thought i'd write something. took me a MONTH to finish goodbye. i expect this to have 0 likes and 0 views LMAO 😭 this is experimental and for me to test the waters
content: orgasm torture, power imbalance, dumbification, objectification
wc: 1.8k
thinking about yunho...
“nobody’s coming to save you, baby.”
you’re wailing at this point. shaking, sobbing. completely at his mercy, or rather lack thereof.
the nda was signed, your nerves were alight with excitement, with nervousness. with an overwhelming sense of pride over the fact that out of all the beautiful faces in the crowd, he chose you.
the journey to the hotel, the blurring letters of the non-disclosure you hardly even read. the look of pity the managers gave you when the elevator shut in their faces as they sent you upstairs to your inevitable destruction.
you, of course, did not know yunho. fans had their speculations about who he was behind closed doors and when the cameras shut off. the onstage persona he thrived in was a second skin he wore that had you swooning in the crowd. you had felt crazy every time his eyes swept over the crowd and always seemed to snag on you. you were sure it was just your typical case of fangirl delusion, but even when you weren’t looking at him, you felt him.
you knew you weren’t crazy. or maybe you did. when the concert was over, you were pulled aside by managers and men in suits. when you were led to a black van near the back of the venue, you sat in silence with strangers as they drove. you had to be dreaming; you felt clocked out of your brain during the entire exchange.
when they wished you luck and offered you a chance to leave. to forget this ever happened and to go home. you did not take it, and you wished you had.
yunho was cruel.
when you first stepped into his hotel room, expensive and cold, he was sitting on the plush chair in the corner, fiddling with the cross necklace that hung off his strong neck.
your breath caught in your throat when you saw him, beautiful and domineering. when he turned to look at you, you almost fled the room. but he stood and strode over to you carefully, like he could sense the fear that rushed through your blood.
and it excited him so much.
he reached out his hand and watched as you flinched away, your lips parted in surprise as his finger traced the slope of your nose, like you couldn’t believe he was real, that he was touching you. he smiled, and with a jerk of his hand, he gripped your jaw tightly, roughly, controlling. your eyes shook, and you swallowed as he squeezed your cheeks, biting his bottom lip and grinning when your pretty little lips puckered.
he’d make you believe, and he’d make you regret agreeing to come up here.
“keep squirming, and i'm gonna fuck you until your cunt goes numb.” it didn’t matter if you listened to him; he was going to do it anyway.
legs spread, pussy stuffed full, hands bound above your head with the very belt that he wore onstage that night. inflamed skin littered with bites, bruises, spit, and maybe a little blood.
his right hand held a small vibrating wand to your clit, while his left shoved its fingers down your throat. the smooth head of his cock dragged against your g-spot in a way that had you spiraling, rough, deep, rude thrusts into your abused cunt, the wand on your clit on the highest setting, the fingers in your mouth curling down against your tongue, the indents of your teeth clearly showing on the skin of his knuckles.
“so fuckin’ easy,” he groans, his throat bobbing when he lets his head fall back, mouth falling open in a deep growl. his hips moved at a punishing pace, determined to mold his shape into you with how hard he was fucking you.
tears stained with eyeliner and mascara ran down your cheeks, the makeup you put so much thought into smeared all over your face like it was all it was good for. your entire body would not stop shaking, your moans broken and staccato, each stroke of yunho’s insanely long cock making your ribcage shake under your skin.
“y-yun- ah! oh god, hurts,” you cried out, words slurring around his fingers. you hear him laugh above you, leaning down and glaring into your eyes.
“she speaks!” he teases, punishing you with a rough thrust up into you, and you choke. “hurts so good, doesn’t it, tiny?” he pouts and mocks you, chastely kissing the side of your throat as he abandons the wand at your side for a moment.
the loss of stimulation on your clit feels relieving, giving you a moment to breathe. he doesn’t stop fucking you, though, and he slows his hips and gives it to you slow and deep. yunho watches your eyes roll, feels your slick drip down his lower stomach, your cunt pulsing around him as if your body is begging for more. he doesn’t know if you’d be able to handle more without passing out, but he’s willing to take that risk.
“so cute…” he murmurs against your heated skin, dragging his fingers down your tongue and out of your mouth, wiping your drool all over your face and landing a burning slap across your cheek that sends your head whipping to the side.
you whine loudly when he takes his free hand and presses down against your lower stomach. your entire body jerks, your hands squirming in the belt around your wrists, throwing your head back into the pillow. the slow drag of his dick inside of you is almost too much without the vibrator. forced to feel the slow push and pull, his fat tip catching on that ridge inside of you. yunho could feel himself move under his palm through the flesh of your tummy, and he was addicted.
he looked crazed, and you couldn’t lock eyes with him for too long, or it would send your body into a burning heat.
“cum.” he commands, his low voice rough and growling, and your brain shuts off while your body obeys his command. like he flipped a switch, your cunt clenches, and you’re cumming.
you couldn’t believe it, how much control he had over you in that hotel room. it was borderline immoral, the way he seemed to get high off your compliance. it's like it wasn’t voluntary; your body just listened to him. your brain was useless, your body was all he needed, and he loved the way it responded to him.
he pokes his tongue against his inner cheek and laughs lowly, pressing against your stomach even harder as he pulls you through your orgasm, rolling his hips into you with monstrous precision.
“yeah, lemme fuck you through it, fuck you through it, fuck you through it…” it was like he was in a trance, and with every word that spilled from his mouth, his hips began to move faster.
your moans were going quiet, losing your voice from how much you had been moaning that night. you weren’t sure how many times you had cum by then, but you were sure it was at least 7.
he could see it, the light leaving your eyes, the clouds that formed over your irises, the more you succumbed to the overwhelming pleasure. he always loved this part. he coaxed fans up to his hotel room, a dark promise of a secret well kept.
a promise for a night they will never forget, and maybe a night they will wish to forget. yunho would ruin them, play with them until they were useless. you were surprisingly resilient, and he was having a lot of fun with you.
“such a pretty, flexible little thing, hm? look at you, so fucking stupid.” you hear it before you feel it, the click of the wand as the buzzing fills the room.
you gain some sort of coherence in your eyes, and panic signals inside your brain as your hands jerk in their restraints, and attempt to reach down and stop him.
“w-wait-!” he doesn’t, and he presses the wand up against your clit once again. you groan loud and low, the combination of his thick cock slipping in and out of your oozing pussy, the merciless vibrations of the wand, his hand slides up and hooks at your throat, where he squeezes so hard you can’t move your head.
your breaths go quiet as he fucks you, as he hates you for existing. rough, claiming, and spiteful. vile spits and condescending praises in your face that make you feel like you were nothing more than a toy for him.
“slippery cunt keeps sucking me in, tiny. desperate slut can’t get enough, huh?”
“you keep cumming until you knock yourself out, i wanna see those pretty little eyes go empty.”
“need you to feel this in the morning, can't tell anyone about it, but you’re gonna fucking feel it for weeks.”
you could feel bruises forming on the backs of your thighs from where his hips slammed against you. the sharp crescents that sank into your neck where he held your throat down against the mattress. your clit was puffy and overstimulated to the point where every movement burned, but it burned so fucking good.
“can’t wait to find your face in the crowd at the next concert. ill be on stage thinking about how i reduced you to a set of holes for me to fuck. how pretty you look crying for me, how wet you get hearing me talking to you like my own personal fuckdoll.”
every word stole air from your lungs, every stroke sent the nerves in your pussy into overdrive, every brush of his lips made your eyes roll, every squeeze of his hand on your throat made your legs twitch around his hips.
“that’s it, baby, shh shhh.” he coos at you like it was your first time using your brain. he drags the vibrator up your clit in slow increments, and he drinks in the way your entire body twitches with every stroke.
“i'm gonna break you, sweetheart, mmhm. if you pass out, don’t worry. the guards will get you home safely.”
yunho rewards your limp body with a kiss to your temple, and he feels you clench around his cock harder than you do all night.
he opens his mouth and lets out a giggling moan against your skull, and he kisses your temple again.
“fuck, you got so tight, you like me being sweet to you?” yunho whispers against your skin, slowing his hips, giving you a glimpse of hope at the chance of pity for your broken body.
you can’t answer; only moan with a broken voice. he grins, then he drags his hips back with a shaky purr and shoves his cock deep into your cunt, pounding you stupid into the hotel mattress like you were an expendable rubber doll that could be replaced if she snapped in half.
“too bad~” he teases against your skin in a mocking sing-song tone, sinking his teeth into your lobe as he adjusts his hips to fuck you bottomless and forceful. "nobody's coming to save you, baby. you're at my mercy tonight."
a mercy he did not have. and if only you knew the way all the other members were in their respective hotel rooms, unable to get the pathetic sounds of your sobs out of their head, fighting the urge to fist their cock to the sound of yunho fucking up another fan.
you should never have let your curiosity get the best of you, because you weren’t sure if you’d make it out of that hotel alive.
not with the way yunho was fucking you like he had no goddamn off button.
to everyone outside of your relationship, your relationship was filled with gentleness and love. they believed that yunho was the sweetest man known to mankind, always treating you like a damn queen, and they wouldn't be wrong. but there was also another side of him that he reserved for strictly behind closed doors.
behind those sometimes locked doors, yunho became a whole different man, his touches left bruises for days, teeth nipping and sucking deep marks into your skin. and god, the way his cock split you open had you seeing stars in record time.
yunho is the type of guy to completely ruin you, not for just your pleasure, but his own. he wasn't gentle in the slightest; he was an absolute beast in bed, and he wasn't afraid to get rough with you, because he knew that you loved it just as much as him. plus you both had established a safe word just in case things got too out of hand, but it never did.
yunho used his strength to flip you into whichever position he desires, holding your quivering body down while he fucks his hard cock deep inside your swollen pussy. your pleas for him to slow down slowly turned into incoherent babbles as your nails dug into his forearms that were placed next to your head as he fucks you in doggy.
"yun, please..." the whines that left your kiss swollen lips were music to yunho's ears, only urging him to go harder and faster, eliciting another loud, broken moan from you.
your jaw fell slack as he brushed over your sweet spot before kissing your cervix, the pleasure that rippled throughout your body was almost mind numbing. any and all coherent thoughts have long since left your brain, leaving just thoughts of the overwhelming presence of yunho and his heavy cock that continued to abuse your sopping cunt.
"oh come on, princess, don't tell me you're tired already." yunho smirks, lifting his body from yours, hands going to your hips to pull you back onto him, leaving you no room for escape. "I'm nowhere near done yet." he groans as he pulls yet another orgasm from your overstimulated body.
yunho didn't stop until he had completely drained himself in your cunt, leaving you a crying, shaky, sticky mess. his cum leaks from your pulsating pussy, and he just watches with a cocky grin.
warnings: breeding, talks of pregnancy, age gap, dilf yunho, size kink, etc.
a/n: this is one of my favorites, clean up aisle- my pants !
enjoy.
The dad of the sweet little girl you babysat during the week was too much for your poor heart.
The gentle way his hands settled on your waist when he walked behind you, when you were in the kitchen making yourself a glass of water.
The lingering looks you could feel on your exposed legs when you wore shorts around his house.
The dreams you would have of him late at night, fogging up his glasses and taking everything he'd be willing to give.
The way his hands softly curled a lock of your hair around his finger when he looked down at you while you two talked, the look in his eyes, much more than attentive.
How he treated you like a sweet, chaste little girl, nibbling on the nail of his thumb, never being able to pull his eyes from you when he watched you move around his home like you belonged.
"Would you like me to reach that for you sweetheart?"
"Be careful, you could cut yourself darling."
"Bundle up, love. Or you could catch a cold."
You knew what you were doing, or at least you thought you did. But Yunho liked games, so, he played along.
You called him, "Mr. Jeong." A respectful title, one that rolled off your tongue too sultrily for Yunho’s taste.
He had a plethora of little names for you, referring to you as a little minx to his coworkers whenever they asked about how the new babysitter was faring.
He admired the way you cared for his daughter like she was your own, your smile when you played doctor with her, and your blooming creativity when she asked you to draw with her.
You were perfect in every way. Yunho's favorite part of the day was when he arrived home from work, after having put his daughter to bed. You both would share a fufilling dinner, you'd tell him about the day you and his daughter had, branch off into talks about school and how life had been treating you.
And then Yunho'd send you home, with your wage in hand and a less than innocent smile as he watched every step you took as you walked down his driveway, got into your car, and drove home into the night.
Not tonight, though; tonight was different.
Yunho wasn't home yet. You assumed he had a late-running meeting. His daughter was sound asleep in her bed, the house quiet as you were the only soul awake inside.
You wandered about as you waited for Mr. Jeong to arrive home, scrolling on your phone and passing the time.
That's when you walked past his closed bedroom door. On the second floor, the closed door beckoned to you. Yunho never really gave you any restrictions as to where you could or could not go in terms of bedrooms in the house. You were curious as to what his living space was like. Where he spent most of his time when he wasn't working, a person's room can say a lot about them.
You held your hand over the knob, listening to make sure he hadn't gotten home yet, before gripping and twisting it, pushing the door open softly.
Immediately, the smell is what you noticed first. The whole space smelled like him. Powdery, aromatic, woodsy. Fresh, clean, and sexy. The next thing you noticed was how his room looked clean, but lived in. A few ties draped over his chair near the shuttered window that overlooked the backyard pool, which you had spent many a time floating in. The open walk in closet and the ruffled sheets that hinted at a rushed morning routine.
You found yourself gravitating to his bed, sitting down on the edge, and taking in the space. Degrees laminated on his wall, a few plants placed in corners of the room, a collection of watches sitting on his desk inside an open ashwood lock box. You stood and walked to his open closet, stepping inside and looking around.
A wide array of clothes on hangers, the walk-in so large it could possibly count as another small bedroom, and miscellaneous items scattered on the top shelves. Your hands found the sleeves of one of his button-up shirts, running your fingers over the soft fabric. lost in your own little world as you intruded on your employer's space.
Click!
The sound of the closet door shutting, and before you could turn around, the room was shrouded in darkness, the light having been turned off.
Before any sound could esxape your mouth, a soft, large hand pressed over your mouth, a chest molded to your back as your front was urged against the closet wall. The warmth of his body seeped into yours, feeling undeinably big compared to you.
"Hello, sweet girl." Yunho's familar, saccharine tone dripped over your ears, and immediately you felt your body relax in his hold, and maybe the way you melted into his unexpected touch should have concerned you, but you could not find it in you to care.
"If you're looking for your paycheck, it certainly isn't in here." Even in the pitch black darkness, you could imagine the face he'd be making right now. Playful, teasing.
His hand slowly slipped from over your mouth, his fingers gently grazing your cheeks, along your chin, before finding its home at the base of your throat.
"Sorry, Mr. Jeong..." you muttered, sounding pathetic as you were unable to mask the need in your voice as you shivered under his touch. You felt his lips press against the shell of your ear, a low chuckle from him, then he pressed himself further against your back, forcing you closer to the wall.
His broad chest easily shrouding your smaller back, you felt so small in his arms and it made your blood rush with excitement. Anytime you had a conversation with him, you had to mask the giddiness in your voice when you took notice you had to physically crane your neck upward to meet his gaze. Or how when he hands you your paycheck, and his considerable, rugged hands brushed over yours.
"It's okay, sweetheart, don't apologize. You were probably just wondering where I was, weren't you?" His tone was condescending, like he knew the real answer, knew the nasty effect he had on your mind and your body.
You nodded, a barely there whimper bouncing around the dark room. Yunho groaned quietly, smiling as he pressed a whisper of a kiss against the side of your throat.
"Did you miss me?" His voice was barely a whisper, so quiet and so gentle it went straight to your gut. He felt you squirm against him, and he had his answer.
His free hand ghosted down your chest, over your stomach until it landed right above the waistband of your shorts. Unable to see anything, every part of your body felt like it was on fire. His hand stopped, waiting for you to push him off or tell him no. Instead, you pushed your hips back so your ass rubbed against his crotch, a hiss escaping his lips.
So he let his hands slip beneath your shorts, his fingers finding your embarrassingly soaked cunt. "Oh, baby..." he moaned into the crook of your neck, his fingers spreading your lips open beneath your panties, a soft whine hitting his ears as you keened into his touch. He inhaled deeply, sighing at your sweet sugary perfume that curled around his senses, and he felt lightheaded.
He slipped his fingers up your slit, the wetness so profound you could both hear it in the silent confines of the closet, and Yunho thought his brain was going to short-circuit.
"So fucking cute," he murmured, cooing when his fingertips slipped over your clit and you gasped at the sensation. Quickly, he turned your body around so your back was pressed against the wall. He fumbled in the dark until his hand found the light switch, flicking the light back on.
His cheeks were flushed and his pupils were blown wide, breathing heavily with a look in his eyes that was so far from pure you weren’t even sure if you were looking at Mr. Jeong right now.
He swallowed your lips in a filthy kiss as his hands rushed to pull your shorts down your legs, letting the fall to the soft carpeted floor. His fingers were back on you, trailing a ghost of a path from your bellybutton, over your mound, then slipping between your lips coating themselves in your arousal. He circles your entrance teasingly, grinning when you gasped at his touch. His fingers were freezing cold.
Languidly, taking his sweet time, Yunho slid his soft fingers inside your cunt. Yunho's fingers were long, perfectly so they sat against that spot inside of you that made you arch into him, your moans breathless as you felt him inside of you.
Your hands gripped his shoulders as his other hand slipped beneath your thigh, urging you to follow.
"Jump," he whispered against your lips, and you did. He pressed his body against yours, holding you to the wall as your legs wrapped around his waist, his fingers curling as he stretched you open, moving in deliberate, perpetual patterns deep inside of you.
You moaned around his tongue as he let it slide over yours, his kisses greedy and sloppy, fingers circling over your G-spot tantalizingly slow, but with just enoguh pressure that your thighs shook around him.
"You're so sweet, baby." Yunho pulled his lips from yours, kissing the corner of your mouth, smiling at the way your eyes watered and your mouth fell open when his fingers curled particularly roughly. "Want me to fuck you, huh? Wanna scream and cry for me like the good girl I know you are?"
"Yes, please, Mr. Jeong!" you cried, kissing him again as you begged for his touch. He pulled away from your lips, breathing heavily like it hurt to not kiss you. He reached up and slid his foggy glasses off his face, setting them on the shelf before he swallowed your lips again, groaning unabashedly at your taste.
When he was sure you were soaked and stretched enough, he slipped his fingers out of you, the slick sound deafening.
He brought them to his lips, slipping them into his mouth, his eyes nearly rolling when your taste hit his tongue. His hands fiddleed with his belt, the metal clanking loudly as he shoved his boxers down just enough to free his cock.
Thick, intimidatingly long, and you understood why he spent the time stretching you out. "Didn't wanna hurt you, baby," Yunho purrs against your lips, sliding the length of his through your dripping folds, lubing himself up with your slick. "That can wait for another day, when I put you in your place for snooping in rooms you don't belong."
You whined unashamedly at the guise of there being a next time, and the shameful thought of Yunho administering a punishment for your behavior.
When he was coated in your arousal, he lined himself up with your entrance, your legs tightening round his hips in anticipation. Sliding one hand behind your neck, cupping the back of it, and pressing your forehead to his, his eyes locking with yours, barely even blinking. Painfully slow, Yunho pushed himself into you, keeping your neck in place so you couldn't look away, smirking when your eyes rolled and your lids fluttered when you felt him stretch you out.
Unable to escape his burning gaze, his eyes drank every micro expression on your face, and you felt his cock jump inside of you once there was no space left between your hips, filled to the brim wth him.
He only held the back of your neck tighter, pulling his hips back and thrusting in with such a force that your breath caught in your throat. The pressure was unbearable, and the pleasure was enough to immediately knock you stupid.
Yunho grinned, keeping his hand on your neck while the other gripped the underside of your thigh, helping support you against the wall as he ravaged. And still he never pulled his eyes away from you.
Lips just barely hovering over yours, so close you could feel the skin, but never quite kissing you, your breaths and moans mingling together in the air, eyes half lidded and watery, taking everything he was giving you.
Every slip of his cock in and out of your cunt made your thigh twitch in his hold, effortlessly sliding against that spot inside of you, like he already knew where to angle his hips.
"You're so dirty, baby," he cooed against your mouth, lightly biting yout bottom lip, smiling when a particularly rough thrust sent your moans up in pitch. "Snooping around my room when I'm not home, letting me fuck you against the wall, taking it all-" he punctuated each word with a deep stroke. "So. Fucking. Well."
The eye contact was killing you, and you could already feel yourself flying towards your orgasm. "Yuhno- please, sir, I'm close."
Yunho growled, the honorific making his skin prickle and his dick throb. "Yeah, you close? Want me to cum in this pussy? Fill you up? Fuck a baby into you, huh?"
It should have scared you, make you second-guess your already bad decision. But you moaned loudly, clenched around him, and came all over his cock like a bitch in heat, as he fucked you through it. The way your body reacted to his words alone told him all he needed to know, and his mood switched like a light.
Rough, claiming, and unforgiving, Yunho drove his cock into you, the wet slapping echoing around the closet, filthy. Squeezing the back of your neck, he kissed you as he fucked you through your orgasm, sucking on your tongue, kissing you like he was trying to swallow your breath.
"Sweet girl wants me to breed her, huh?" he teased into your mouth, the hand on your thigh moving to press against your lower stomach. "Gonna fill you up, right here." He pressed down, emphasizing his point, and he could feel his cock through your tummy, eyes rolling at how big he felt inside of you.
You were crying now, hot tears spilling down your cheeks, the pleasure undeniably riveting, losing your mind to the feeling.
"Yeah, sweetheart, I'm going to make you a mommy... gonna fucking breed you, baby. You'll take it right, won't you?" Yunho felt you clench again, and he knew you were cumming. You were perfect, so willing to him, so sweet and so lovely. He'd love for you to give him another kid, maybe a boy this time.
A few more deep thrusts, and Yunho stuttered his hips, cumming inside you with a sinful groan into your open mouth, eyes finally closing as he came down from his high. His hips stilled for a moment before he began slowly moving again, barely giving either of you time to catch your breath. "Can't let any slip out, hm? Gotta make sure you stay full of me."
You whimpered, overstimulation setting in your poor cunt, the slick sound of his cum mixing with yours echoing in your ears as he began to fuck deep up into you again.
"Don't whine, you know we have to make sure it takes right, sweetheart?" Yunho pressed his lips against the shell of your warm ear, and you felt him smile against it, his hips finding a rhythm again. His free hand slid up to cover your mouth, muffling your sweet, overstimulated whines and loud cries for mercy.
note: i wrote this while listening to cash shit by megan thee stallion… YEAH THAT’S MY DOG HE GON’ SIT DOWN AND LISTEN, CALL HIM A TRICK AND HE DON’T GET OFFENDED 🗣️🔊🔊💯
warnings: nsfw, cursing
requests open! reply here or to pinned post for tags.
pairing﹢jeong yunho x fem!reader
genre﹢smut. ex-bf!yunho, age gap (reader is 24, yunho is 36), themes of obsessive tendencies and stalking, jealousy, emotional manipulation, slight yandere (if you squint), corruption kink, toxic relationship, dubcon undertones but it turns consensual, cunnilingus, choking, mean dom!yunho, implied size kink/difference [the big dick yunho agenda is real], hate + unprotected sex, missionary + mating press, praising + degradation, overstimulation, orgasm control, tummy bulge, creampie, pet names (doll, babydoll, dollface, angel, pretty girl, etc), minimal aftercare.
synopsis﹢he was the only older guy you had ever dated, and you swore you would never do this to yourself again. two years of love, obsession, and control are gone, or at least, that’s what you thought. some people don’t let go or move on — he never did. so why does he walk back into your life like nothing ever happened... this time, as your professor?
word count﹢17,9k
✦ WATCH THE FIC TEASER ✦ PLAY THE VINYL RECORD
these are the best eleven months of your life after ending the relationship with your now ex-boyfriend. next month you're even thinking of celebrating, because it will mark a whole year. your best friends will definitely treat it like a huge occasion, just like on that fateful day when you handed them the news on a silver platter… they had never been so happy, throwing a small party just for the three of you.
YUNHO was the only older guy you had ever dated, and you swore you would never do this to yourself again. to sum it all up, the relationship turned toxic rather quickly. you almost lost all of your friends, even your two best friends, karina and yeji, who tried their very best to shove some sense into you, but you never listened, delusional enough to believe that you could change him. oh, how naive you were, that’s why you were so easy to manipulate…
apologies came in the form of very expensive gifts, things you had always wanted, or in gentle kisses and touches that slowly wandered and eventually led to the bedroom, where you ended up naked beneath his covers. you thought it was normal, since every relationship had arguments, but that’s not what this was about. it was about toxicity, extreme jealousy, possessiveness, maybe even obsession. the man was a literal freak.
karina practically did a full analysis of him, confirming what she had said the very first time you told her about the problems that occurred between you and him: "he's a psychopath." she had been direct, telling you it wasn’t okay and that you needed to break up with him. yeji agreed with her, always wanting the best for you, adding that "older men always want to date someone younger and it's not just because of looks… please be careful."
you suffered once and learned your lesson. enjoying your vacation, cocktail in hand, while the sea breeze drifts past you, the sun hot against your skin as you lounge on the deckchair, slowly tanning. of course, sometimes you still think about the past; you can’t really stop that after spending two whole years with him. yet even though everything had been bad and suffocating, there had been a good side to him too: tall, handsome, funny and somehow rich. what more could you want?
the other thing you wanted was for your parents and close friends not to find out that you had been dating someone not two or three years older, or even a year younger, but a whole twelve years older. yes, you were twenty-one when you met him, a couple of months before your birthday, through mutual friends. one gathering led to another, and before you knew it, you were dating him, convinced you had finally found the one you were going to marry, the only man who truly knew how to be a man. alas, it turned out he was just another shark in the ocean, ready to strike at its defenseless prey.
it doesn’t matter anymore, since you’re single, genuinely happy, enjoying your summer, shining brighter than the sun itself, and everyone sees you like some kind of eternal sunshine. you finally returned to yourself, only smarter this time, no longer falling for tricks or manipulative tactics. life is good when you don’t have a man bitching in your ear about the outfit you’re about to wear or asking why you were talking to some guy for too long. the waiter, if you must specify, who was simply announcing the lunch menu.
“ah, can’t believe we have to be back at university that soon…” you said, sipping from your drink while idly chewing on the straw. karina was on your left, glued to her phone, while yeji sat on your right, carefully lining up small seashells along her thighs.
“and we’re graduating this year too… but someone decided to study at a different university, breaking our teenage dreams,” karina said as she turned off her phone, glancing at you with a playful look while you rolled your eyes.
“not my fault the one you’re in didn’t have what i wanted.” you took another sip, and yeji giggled softly. “none of us dropped out though, which is an achievement on its own.”
yes, you didn’t study at the same place as them, but that didn’t stop you from hanging out, if anything, there was even more gossip to share. and so the conversations continued, all the way until you started getting ready for dinner, and then for a few more days after that, until eventually you had to go back to seoul and wish each other “good luck for the new last year.”
you really did need some luck, because you had just found out that your favorite professor had retired. you were going to miss the woman; you had been her favorite student, but all good things eventually come to an end. everyone was already sitting in the lecture room. you had heard that the new professor was someone young, but there hadn’t been time to check who exactly he was since they were still fixing schedules and systems. the only thing you knew was that tuesday at nine in the morning was your first lecture with the new professor in question.
“i think he probably used to play basketball or football, i saw him earlier and he’s really tall,” one of the boys said, and the others quickly agreed, while you remained focused on your phone, scrolling through reel after reel, meme after meme. then you overheard the girls whispering nearby, their voices a little more excited. “did you see his hands? and him in general… he’s so fine…”
the problem with having a young professor is exactly that — he was young, and from what everyone was saying, quite attractive too. the other problem appeared the moment everyone finally sat down when the door opened. a tall figure stepped into the room, his style was effortless in a way that made it impossible not to glance twice. a soft gray cardigan hung loosely over his shoulders, the thin knit falling open enough to reveal the clean white t-shirt beneath.
the muted colors helped him blend in, making him look more like a student than a teacher. slim black pants traced the long lines of his frame, the strap of a black crossbody bag thrown diagonally across his chest, and he wore simple sneakers. his black hair fell in soft layers that framed his face, the strands straight and smooth, cut just long enough to brush the tops of his eyebrows and skim the sides of his cheekbones.
you were sitting a little further back, your phone still in your hands. the room buzzed with chatter as people continued talking among themselves until the professor cleared his throat, the sound cutting clean through the noise as he prepared to introduce himself.
“hello everyone, i’m jeong yunho and i’ll be your new photography professor this year.”
your eyes widened instantly, your head snapping up so fast it almost hurt. oh no… houston, we have a problem. you blinked several times, half expecting your vision to clear and reveal someone else entirely. maybe it was just someone with the exact same name, appearance, and voice. unfortunately for you, it wasn’t. why is your ex-boyfriend the new professor? out of all the people in the capital, it had to be him who got the position.
you sat there frozen in complete shock, your mouth slightly open until your deskmate and close university friend, jeongin, gently pressed a finger under your chin to close it as he leaned to whisper, “i guess everyone, including you, just found their new crush, huh?”
what, why, and how? was this some kind of twisted karma? because if it was, you definitely weren’t the one who deserved it. your heart started beating faster, anxiety and something close to fear crawling up. could you run away? maybe copy someone else’s notes, no… you couldn’t. suddenly you wished you were studying metaphysics with karina, because that sounded far more pleasant than this.
“i’d love to get to know all of you,” he continued, smiling as he set his bag on the desk before leaning back against it, arms loosely crossed, while his gaze moved around the room. “so i’ll share a few things about myself. and don’t worry, i won’t make you do anything today. i’ll just introduce the course and explain what i expect from you.”
surprisingly hands immediately began rising with questions. meanwhile, you were still struggling to believe what you were seeing and hearing. he hadn’t changed at all, you had to admit it. he had only gotten more attractive. always taking care of himself and being unfairly pretty, making you remember how two years ago you thought about what your future children would look like... now you want to throw up. forcing yourself to keep your composure, glancing at jeongin and making a slightly grimaced face. yeah, a crush for sure, except you wanted to crush him into pieces.
“how old are you, professor?” someone from the middle rows asked, earning a few curious murmurs from the class, making yunho chuckle, “straight to the personal questions already? alright then. i’m thirty-six.”
everyone was surprised by the answer, and all kinds of reactions rippled through.
“don’t look so shocked,” he added with a small grin. “i promise i’m not that ancient.”
“are you a full-time professor?” another student asked.
“not exactly,” yunho replied, pushing his sleeves up slightly as he spoke, revealing his forearms, “i’m a professional photographer first. i mainly work in editorial and commercial photography such as fashion shoots, campaigns, exhibitions, that sort of thing. teaching is something i enjoy doing on the side, especially with students who are serious about the craft.”
“does that mean you’re going to give us easy grades?” someone joked, making him raise an eyebrow, the corner of his mouth lifting. “absolutely not.”
the class laughed again, a little nervous this time.
“i can be friendly,” he added, shrugging lightly, “but don’t mistake that for me being tolerant. photography is about discipline and perspective. if you’re here just to press a button and hope for the best, you’re going to struggle.”
another hand went up. “so… we won’t pass easily?”
“correct,” nodding his head once. “i expect effort, creativity, and consistency. if you work hard, you’ll do amazing. if you don’t…” he paused briefly before smiling again, “you won’t pass this course by simply showing up and smiling at me. well, at least you’ll get some nice pictures out of the experience.”
more chuckles followed, but the message had landed. the atmosphere quickly became relaxed and comfortable as he answered questions with small jokes. the students were already warming up to him, clearly charmed by how easygoing he was. as you listened to him speak, watched the way he carried himself so seriously and correctly in front of everyone, you couldn’t help but wonder where exactly all that cheerful composure had been when he was with you?
“attendance is mandatory.” and then his gaze settled directly on yours, a faint smirk pulling at his lips as he stared straight into your soul, the one he had almost taken from you a year ago. “of course, if you have to be absent, it’s not a problem, as long as it doesn’t happen often. i know some of you will be at the mall with friends. also i don’t grade by email; everything you do will be shown and discussed in class.”
the entire time he spoke, his eyes kept drifting back to you. when he paced slowly across the front of the room, even when he turned to answer someone else’s question, somehow his attention always circled back. for some reason, you held his gaze instead of looking away, and the longer you stared at him, the more that fear slowly faded until all that remained was pure hatred.
jeongin leaned slightly closer to you, lowering his voice into a teasing whisper. “well there goes our plan of skipping class to eat kfc… or getting more sleep,” he murmured, nudging your arm lightly.
thank god your best friends studied at different universities, otherwise they would have dragged you straight to the administration office and forced you to drop out for real. and honestly… you were starting to think about it yourself. the worst part was that you couldn’t switch the class for anything else. great, truly amazing. you were trapped for an entire semester.
“that’s everything for today,” yunho said after a while, clapping his hands together once as he was done answering questions and talking about cameras, “i won’t keep you any longer. enjoy the rest of your morning.”
chairs scraped across the floor as everyone began packing their things, the room filling with chatter again. you grabbed your purse quickly, already standing up before most people had even processed that the lecture was over. as you walked out with jeongin, you noticed a small crowd forming around the professor’s desk. a couple of boys and girls had already gathered there, asking questions, laughing at something he said, clearly eager to stay a little longer.
you didn’t even glance his way. no goodbye, or a polite “have a nice day”, because he didn’t deserve to have one. you just kept walking toward the door, hoping that you would manage to graduate before the sudden temptation to drop out started looking a little too appealing.
“your analysis lacks depth,” yunho says, placing your paper on his desk, making you scoff, since this is the third time now that he’s returned it for edits. lacks depth, he says… well, you did as well, asshole. if you had to edit one more thing, it honestly wouldn’t be that bad to buy a gun, and no, it definitely wouldn’t be pointed at your head.
every single tuesday he calls on you far too often in class. your assignments always come back covered in detailed comments, red ink everywhere like a declared war on your academics. you swear he’s grading you harder than everyone else, which honestly seems unfair to the people who are actually doing nothing. apparently, you’re the only one being treated like a social experiment.
“and what exactly do i need to change again, professor?” you ask, grinning through your teeth, burying every thought that would probably send you straight to jail under a perfectly fake smile. you’re this close from going insane, feeling that familiar anger rise again, the irritation that always appears when you’re forced to deal with someone you can’t stand.
for the last four weeks, your life has been hell, to say the least. during lectures he’ll ask a question, several hands go up while yours remain fiddling with a ballpoint pen, and yet he always picks you. and the first time you didn’t know the answer, what followed was a casual, “it would be nice to learn things before the test, hm?” which felt like complete humiliation, because beneath that joking tone there had been something that definitely wasn’t a joke.
once you and jeongin arrived ten minutes late, which honestly wasn’t even your fault. what were you supposed to do when your friend insisted on waiting for his coffee while there was already a long line that early in the morning? of course, a comment followed: “please be on time next time.” but when someone else walked in thirty minutes late during the same lecture, there were absolutely no remarks.
that’s exactly why you always come prepared with answers and make sure you’re always on time. you know his tricks far too well. no matter how charming his smile is, how sweetly he talks, how funny and relaxed he seems… it’s just one of his many masks. karina really was right about him being some kind of psychopath.
everyone else, unfortunately, loves the new professor. they talk about his fun classes, how nice he is, and how cool it is that he’s such a professional teaching them new techniques. some of your peers even linger after lectures just to chat with him. meanwhile, you sit there thinking that your older ex should seriously consider enrolling in acting instead of photography, because the performance he’s putting on deserves ample shiny awards proudly displayed on a goddamn mantlepiece.
the whole thing has turned into some twisted cat-and-mouse game. he teases, pushes, and provokes. you glare, don't bite back, and refuse to give him the reaction he clearly wants. despite all of that, he always finds his sneaky ways to make your life a little more miserable.
here and there, he calls you to his desk after class for absolutely no reason. “you should consider approaching a different lens for your next project,” like this couldn’t have easily been written in a single email. or he’ll start explaining camera settings you already know perfectly well, dragging the conversation out while the rest of the class disappears into the hallway.
and god forbid you see him outside the classroom. the moment you notice him walking down the hallway, you immediately pull a perfect one-eighty and walk in the opposite direction because you hate this man so fucking much, you refuse to breathe the same air as him.
what’s more upsetting is that you can’t even tell anyone. because if karina and yeji ever found out that your toxic ex-boyfriend was now your professor, they wouldn’t hesitate for a second before throwing a chair at him.
what you don’t know, however, is that he requested this university job partly because of you. actually, not partly at all, he knew exactly what he was doing. even when you were still together, he knew where you studied and what major you were in, just like you knew about his photography work. of course, teaching also gave him the chance to try something different in his career. and what better opportunity than this? his unbelievably beautiful ex-girlfriend just so happened to be one of his students, completely unplanned.
and it doesn’t stop there, oh no, everything is just starting.
jeongin begins to notice a pattern, which honestly isn’t hard to miss when during class yunho asks another question. probably ten hands rise into the air, but he still chooses you. your friend leans closer to your ear and whispers, “you must be his favorite~”
you stare at the board like you want to burn it down, alongside mister pretty devil himself, who of course, happens to wear clothes that fit his figure perfectly, fuck him honestly. “if i was his favorite, do you think i’d be studying camera obscura in this much detail?”
not to mention the way he addresses you with that smooth voice, softly calling you, “miss (name).” the moment you hear it, it’s game over. you have to respond with “yes, professor,” or “yes, sir,” like some twisted academic roleplay you never signed up for. it makes you want to vomit, bleach both your eyes and your trachea. you hate his guts so much. he has always liked being in control, and now he has it again, at least within the walls of this campus. outside of it, however, he has absolutely none.
when it comes to homework and assignments, everyone else receives short feedback, brief but explanatory enough to understand their mistakes, things like: “good composition” or, “nice lighting” and even, “if you try a black and white effect, it might work better.”
your feedback, on the other hand, is practically a full essay. it could probably qualify as a documentary script because he covers everything, even the tiniest details. he has a ridiculously keen eye for things, which apparently also makes him a professional at being a complete jerk who picks on you for absolutely no reason.
“your framing… well, it’s technically correct,” he muses, tapping the printed photo with his finger exactly where he seems most dissatisfied, “but technically correct isn’t the same as emotionally effective.”
you want to throw your camera at him and shove the lens straight down his throat, as the class sits there admiring him. “wow, professor jeong gives such thoughtful feedback.”
it also happens that he’s constantly spammed with emails from students asking if their work is passable or what more they can do to improve their visuals, so eventually he announces loudly, “if anyone needs extra help, my office hours are wednesday and thursday afternoon.”
later that same day, only you receive an email: “your project concept has potential. come to discuss it.”
you go, of course, because you care about the grade. knocking on the door to his office, and he lets you in, acting like the two of you are complete strangers. the entire conversation stays professional, purely academic, every word measured, but the tension makes your heartbeat faster. after ten painfully long minutes, you finally stand to leave, and just as your hand reaches the door, he says, that same smile on his face, “don’t sabotage your own work out of stubbornness.”
almost slamming the door behind you, but you need to have self-control and not let him know that you are slowly losing your cool.
it goes without saying that the girls in the course absolutely adore him. some of them simp for him, always giggling and gossiping. “the way he looked at me today… he said he is single, so do you think i have a chance?” or “he’s literally the most handsome professor here, why isn’t my boyfriend like him?”
you almost choke hearing that, because you know the other version of him. the one who used to kiss apologies into your neck after fights. the one whose hands knew every point of your body andwho knew you better than you knew yourself. fingers that always seemed to know exactly where to press, where to… why are you even thinking about that?
during one of his lectures, yunho suddenly says something that makes your stomach twist.
“photography is about obsession. you need to want the subject more than anything else. you have to focus on it completely if you want to capture the perfect shot.”
you freeze, eyes widening slightly at his words, because you know exactly how obsessive he can be. yunho glances at you, that smug little smile appears again, and he continues the lecture as if nothing happened.
it’s almost nightfall when the young professor arrived home. he dropped onto the couch, leaving his bag on the floor beside it, his head falling back against the cushions as he stretched his legs over the small wooden table and stretched his arms up above his head.
he exhaled once, then again, tapping his thigh with his fingers in the quiet that filled the apartment. the silence didn’t last long before a small laugh slipped past his lips. he closed his eyes, and of course, you appeared in his mind again. you were constantly there, living somewhere between his thoughts and his heart, occupying space you had no right to anymore.
weren’t you just adorable? each and every time you walked into class, you were dressed better than everyone else, always prepared and looking at him with that sneer that no one else seemed to notice. not even your deskmate, the one he sometimes caught himself glaring at out of pure irritation and jealousy, though he knew jeongin wasn’t any real threat.
you were his muse, his fallen angel, the pliable doll he had once controlled so carefully until two other puppets, your dear best friends, stepped in and cut the marionette strings, ruining the entire show. you had been so kind-hearted and obedient, so sweet and perfectly made for him… but everything had ended so quickly.
yunho knew exactly how to push your buttons; it was too easy for him. he watched every little reaction, the glares you tried to hide behind forced politeness. he fed on it more than he probably should have. still obsessed with you and completely unable to let go, hiding it well enough behind the role of a professor.
you were his one weakness, the sensitive gap between two ribs guarding the heart he had, the one thing that made the control he prided himself on slip through his fingers. he had never stopped loving you, at least not in his own twisted way. goddamnit, you looked like an absolute doll today. the dress, the way your hair fell over your shoulders, the gloss on your lips. were you going on a date with someone? with who? when? where? normally he would have known already. the thought made his jaw tighten slightly, tongue pushing the inside of his cheek. if it wasn’t for the university schedule taking up so much of his time lately, he would have kept better track of things. he hoped you weren’t going on a date with anyone.
reaching for his phone, unlocking it as he opened one of the many accounts he used. your instagram appeared on the screen, and even though your profile was private, that had never really stopped him. the pretty much convincing fake account had been accepted months ago and you had never questioned it. he doesn’t just have one fake account, there are several, each with a different purpose: one follows you, the second follows your friends, the third follows men who comment on your photos.
his thumb scrolled slowly through the posts, stopping at one in particular.
you standing by the ocean with goldensunlight catching your skin, wearing that stupidly beautiful dress that he bought. the same vacation he had surprised you with, and the irony was that he had been the one holding the camera when those pictures were taken, and then his scrolling stopped when he saw you had a story posted.
you sitting across from someone in a restaurant, a glass in your hand, smiling. the caption tagged someone… jaemin? the quiet apartment suddenly didn’t feel so quiet anymore. yunho stared at the screen a little longer than necessary, his fingers tightening slightly around the phone. he decided to do his research, and within minutes, he knew jaemin’s major, his other social media, his schedule and which classes he attends.
“so you were going on dates now, huh?” his hand ran slowly across his face before he leaned back against the couch again, letting out a low breath that almost sounded like a mocking laugh. he shouldn’t care, and what’s left of his sanity knew that, but something in his chest twisted like a scalding hot knife. the truth was simple, and it irritated him more than anything else.
his home still has traces of you. your favorite mug still in the kitchen, a sweater you forgot draped over a chair, the perfume bottle you left behind on the bathroom counter. he hasn’t moved them at all, so when passing them he’ll sometimes pause, observing your belongings like they’re priceless artifacts he forever wants to keep.
a drawer in his desk contains a perfectly organized stack of polaroids. shots he took of you while you were dating, containing multiple domestic situations of you laughing on the beach, asleep on his shoulder and drooling, you looking annoyed while he teased you endlessly, you wearing his hoodie… there’s a lot, some even nudes taken during private moments when you trusted him. nothing is displayed openly, but preserved with a date written on the back, sometimes a short note, things like mine or xoxo.
as a photographer, he justifies it to himself as art. in his mind those photos were the purest versions of you, deleting them would feel like destroying masterpieces. the man doesn’t see anything wrong with it. they were taken with consent back then, and the memories belong to him, so he never questions keeping them.
though, admittedly, yunho still adds to the collection with printed screenshots from your instagram stories. blurry shots of you crossing campus, a candid photo of you mid-laughter taken from far away during a university event. he keeps a hidden folder on his computer, where inside are hundreds of photos and videos, not just from when you dated, but also recent ones.
sometimes he records his lectures for teaching review, as the university demands, and in private, he’ll rewind parts where you speak. listening again, and again, and again, so he can get off with his dick in hand, trying to chase his high from being turned on by watching you argue with him in class. she still looks at me the same way… anger is better than indifference. your hatred is still attention, and attention for men like him is oxygen.
he studies those images and compares them to how you look in class now. noticing the differences in the way you dress, how you glare at him and refuse to look at him too long… she pretends she doesn’t belong to me anymore.
also your old professor who retired? yunho knew her; she was a well-known photographer in seoul, a colleague of his whose exhibitions he had attended more than once over the years. during a gallery event, the two of them talked for a while, as she casually mentioned that she would be retiring soon and that the university needed someone to take her place. then she also mentioned that one of her best students would be graduating soon. the way she spoke about that student caught yunho’s attention immediately. the woman even pulled out her phone, scrolling through photos from one of the class exhibitions before zooming in on a familiar face — yours.
the elder woman happily explained how talented you were, the potential you had and how you were easily one of her favorites.
that was when he applied to the university, under her recommendation.
yunho finally stood from the couch and walked toward his bedroom. he opened the drawer of his bedside table, reaching inside until his fingers brushed against a familiar photograph: a polaroid from two years ago.
you were laughing in it, leaning slightly toward a cake with him beside you on your 22nd birthday. the faint lipstick mark you had playfully pressed onto the corner of the photo was still there, and he ran his thumb slowly over it. he just stared at it, placing the polaroid carefully on the nightstand beside his phone and the nightlamp. when he finally lay down under the covers, the photograph remained within reach, the faint outline of your smile visible in the dim light.
he closed his eyes, hoping, as he drifted toward sleep, that maybe tonight you would appear in his dreams.
fridays are always a godsend, especially after sitting through a lecture with the devil the day before. anything feels better after that, especially when you’re out for lunch with jaemin. sunlight spilling through the windows, soft chatter around you, and for the first time in a while you feel at ease. he insisted on paying, of course, saying something about how you “deserve to be spoiled properly,” and honestly… you didn’t argue.
he knows what you like. not in a suffocating way that feels like he’s memorized you without permission. but in a very gentle and attentive way.
“are you free tomorrow?” he asks, stealing a bite of your cake like it’s his.
“i wish,” you sigh. “i have to attend a birthday party with my parents.”
“mm,” he hums, pretending to think, though the smile on his lips gives him away. “guess i’ll have to reschedule my very important plan of kidnapping you for the evening.”
you chuckle softly, taking another bite of the sweet treat. “you’re not funny.”
“i’m hilarious,” he corrects you, lifting his index finger. “you’re just in denial.”
rolling your eyes, but you can’t hide the smile that appears on your face. the thing you really liked about jaemin was how sweet-talking and funny he was, knowing what to say at any given moment. he has this mischievous side, but he was also very loving and attractive.
“i was going to ask you to come over,” he adds more quietly, almost shy beneath the teasing. “but… another time.”
that makes you pause, because he doesn’t push or corner you. more so, never demands you to be with him and cancel any plans you have already made with someone else. it’s like an option, not an expectation. there’s no hidden trap set ahead of time for you to fall into.
“maybe next weekend?” you echo, that playful tone came as you asked him, looking at him for a moment, and then down at the already finished cake. and that’s enough for him. his bright and boyish grin returns instantly, like he didn’t just make your heart skip.
“see? progress. next thing you know, you’ll admit you like me.”
“don’t get ahead of yourself,” you warn, pointing your fork at him.
“too late, i already did.”
“jaemin–”
“what?” he leans in slightly, eyes sparkling with that same mischievousness. “you gonna hit me?”
you narrow your eyes. “if you keep talking, maybe.”
he gasps dramatically, pretending to be scared for his life, “not the man-hater queen threatening violence again.”
“i am not a man-hater!”
“you are when it comes to me.”
“you’re annoying.”
“and who is paying the bill?”
that shuts you up completely. instead of teasing you more, he just smiles, playfully winking at you, letting you have that moment.
after lunch, he insists on walking you to the mall so you can meet up with karina and yeji. it’s not far, twenty minutes at most, but he acts like it’s a whole event, a met gala of sorts, and you should be escorted like the princess you are. you walk side by side, hands brushing at first, then naturally finding each other, fingers lacing together. the weather is warm for the autumn season. leaves crunch when people pass by, cars hum in the distance, and for a while, you forget about yunho and about everything.
jaemin talks about random things like how he and jeno tried to summon ghosts as kids, jokes about what he saw online, and somehow, you’re laughing again without having to worry or trying to come up with excuses or reasons of how you can be so happy when something else gives you joy? he looks at you with adoration in his eyes and that’s what makes you feel safe.
when you reach the mall, he slows down, not letting go of your hand immediately. he lingers for a second, like he wants to say something else, then just smiles.
“have fun, man-hater queen.”
“thank you, cake thief.”
he laughs, finally letting go but not before leaving a quick, soft kiss on your cheek. “text me when you get home,” he says, and you nod, a little stunned by this bold yet sweet gesture. he walks off with a smile, and your best friends are already waiting for you inside at the usual meeting spot.
the moment karina spots you, she’s already sprinting, grabbing yeji by the wrist and dragging her along like she’s on a mission. it’s been weeks since you last saw each other, university has been kicking all of your asses, and you didn’t realize how much you needed this until now.
“(name), babe, how are you? you don’t know how much we missed you,” karina squeals, letting go of yeji just to throw her arms around you in a near-death hug. you laugh, breath knocked out of you for a second before hugging her back.
“i missed you, too,” you manage, and then yeji is right there, pulling you into her own hug, softer but just as tight. “and you don’t know what i have to tell you.”
“jaemin?” they ask in unison, already cocking their brows up.
“how did you know?”
yeji nodded her head towards the glass storefront behind you. “we can literally see you from outside.”
“he walked you here, didn’t he?” karina snorts and you don’t even deny it. that’s enough to send both of them into giggles as they hook their arms through yours, dragging you further into the mall.
the next hour follows it’s rhythm. gossip, teasing, overlapping conversations, with you telling them about jaemin and the date earlier, how attentive he is without being overbearing. sometimes you catch yourself thinking you don’t deserve someone like that. someone so patient and sweet, but karina shuts that down immediately, while yeji nods along, reminding you that the bare minimum just feels extraordinary after what you’ve been through.
what you don’t tell them… is everything else. you don’t mention yunho, not a single word leaves your mouth. it sits somewhere in the back of your mind, tucked away like it doesn’t even exist. they deserve to know, you know they do, but you don’t even know where to start, or how they’d react. and… you’re not ready for that, to lose them, so you stay quiet. maybe sometimes silence is the solution.
you move from store to store, bags slowly piling up in your hands. makeup is a priority, you’re running low, and soon enough, you’re standing in front of rows of lipsticks, testing shades against your skin. just for a second in your peripheral vision, you catch a tall figure, standing a few meters away. you turn your head, and nothing. you blink, frowning slightly. that’s… weird. you could’ve sworn someone was there.
“(name), come here, we found the new face masks,” yeji pops up out of nowhere, grabbing your arm and pulling you along before you can think about it too much. “they’re not even that expensive like everyone says.”
letting yourself be dragged away as the rest of the day passes in a blur of chatter and shopping bags. trying on clothes and spending money like you were the granddaughter of a very wealthy ceo. maybe in a past life you were rich, because right now, money seems to disappear the second it touches your hands.
by the time you finally sit down for coffee, you take a slow sip of your ice-cold drink, letting the sweetness settle on your tongue as you listen to karina and yeji talk. your social battery was starting to fade, and you were also running out of things to gossip about, content on just listening instead of talking.
for a moment, everything is fine as it should be, until you get that feeling again, like someone’s watching. you glance up, eyes scanning the space around you, but everything looks normal. people talking, walking, laughing, nothing out of place…. you shift slightly in your seat, fingers tightening around your cup. probably your brain is messing up with you after the tiring day you had.
the day started on like that — him following, and you being completely unaware.
he saw you earlier and was there during the whole date. he doesn’t hate jaemin even if jealousy spikes, but he quickly calms himself down. the younger man is just a temporary placeholder, a distraction you picked up because you didn’t know what else to do with the space yunho left behind. his tongue presses briefly against the inside of his cheek, a habit surfacing whenever irritation starts to settle in. he already knows what to order; he’s been here before… with you. at this restaurant, same table across the room, known for its delicate pasta and overly sweet desserts you always claimed you wouldn’t finish.
it’s wrong, not because you’re laughing and enjoying yourself, but because it’s not with him.
he watches the way jaemin leans in when he talks, how quickly he smiles, casually reaching for your plate, how comfortable he acts like he’s already earned a place he doesn’t deserve. jaemin doesn’t notice the smaller things like the shift in your posture, the way your fingers tighten around your fork when you’re thinking too much, the way your eyes drift when your mind starts wandering. he sees what’s in front of him, nothing more.
yunho sees everything.
he doesn’t need to chase you. he never will. you come back on your own. anger, frustration, curiosity, it doesn’t matter what drives you, it always leads back to him. because no one else will ever know how to handle you the way he does. he doesn’t want a version of you that’s easy. he wants the one who pushes and bites back to keep the spark alive.
you think you hate him, he can see it in your eyes. hatred means you still care; you react because you are affected. indifference would be a problem. but you’re not indifferent, just confused, pretending not to see what’s already there. he missed you. not just your voice, your presence, or your body. he missed this, the way you draw him in without even trying, like a moth to a flame.
he could have walked up to you right now. say your name to strike up a conversation as your professor. what a coincidence, right? you and he in the same place, at the same time, ordering the same food. your expression would drastically change; he knows exactly what it would look like. he’s imagined it enough times, but he doesn’t move.
he doesn’t rush things anymore, learning that the hard way. you need to feel like you have space and the freedom to choose. so he waits, and that’s fine, yunho understands. after all, you’re already his… you just haven’t admitted it to yourself yet.
it was getting late, and when you finally said goodbye to your friends, he’s already on the move. you don’t seem to notice how he chooses the same subway train, standing where the reflection in the window does the work for him, watching you through the blur of the passing lights and shadows.
you’re on your phone for a while, and by the movement of your fingers, you are scrolling through instagram or tiktok. then you are staring ahead, you always get like this when your energy runs out. he knows the exact moment your thoughts start drifting and when exhaustion takes over.
someone dares to look at you for too long. yunho burns holes with bloodshot eyes as the stranger looks away. the train slows at your stop, and you step out. he follows by matching your speed, always out of sight. footsteps always a few seconds behind, stops when you stop. he’s walked this path more times than you’d ever guess. yunho’s gaze moves over everything on the street: the corners, people walking and the cars passing by, the distance between you and anything that could get too close.
you reach your building and pause for a second, opening your purse for your keys. he’s already stopped, waiting for you to step inside. the door closes behind you, as he stays where he is. his eyes lift, scanning the building, counting without thinking how long it would take to reach your floor… it should be one minute and twenty-three seconds.
he waits a little longer, enough to see the second light flicker in your bedroom. it’s the same every night with him walking you back home. what if you hadn’t come back alone? what if some creep had followed you? that wouldn’t have ended well, not for them.
his shoulders finally relax as he turns away. to anyone else, that would be the end of it. just a random man on the street… even if his home is in the opposite direction, thirty-five minutes away. hands sliding into his pockets, the quiet jingle of metal breaks the silence with each step. a small cluster of keys, shifting against each other, and one tucked among them does not belong to him. his thumb brushes over it absentmindedly; it has always been there.
yunho still has a key to your place. sometimes he visits when you’re not there, and he always knows when that is. why does he do it? even the divine beings don’t seem interested in answering that, and they don’t want to interfere either. what is he doing in your apartment? nothing, he goes there when he wants to rest. he doesn’t move things around or leave signs. he just sits on your couch and enjoys the atmosphere you created.
your bedroom door stays open, so he doesn’t need to enter to know if anything has changed. he’s like a ghost, maybe a poltergeist, one that doesn't haunt by moving objects but stealing them instead.
he opens drawers sometimes. the most familiar one is always the same — the drawer with your underwear. never takes anything new or expensive, always the ones at the bottom. old pairs, the pieces you don’t think about anymore, and you wouldn’t even notice are missing.
it’s proximity, a way for him to be close to you, or for you to be close to him.
in the living room, there’s a plush toy you never threw away. he gave it to you when you celebrated your six-month anniversary. it still sits in its place, untouched and harmless-looking. except it isn’t. inside it, carefully hidden where no one would think to look, is a small camera. he watches from time to time, when he needs to. nothing invasive, just enough for him to see you when you’re home.
someone has to make sure you get home safe, even if you don’t know it, and if it has to be him, then so be it.
your father had a lot of friends, and it just so happened that your family was invited to mr. kim’s 50th birthday, an anniversary celebrated in a rather grand and luxurious way. honestly, it felt more like a wedding than a birthday… but either way, it was still an occasion for drinking. people of notoriety greeted each other left and right, laughter and chatter filling the air, until the man of the hour finally made his entrance, the one who had every right to celebrate until the very last drop and bite were gone.
“if this isn’t my one and only goddaughter?” it should probably be mentioned that this kind and ridiculously rich man was your godfather. no blood relation, but he had always been like an uncle to you. the affluent one who spoiled you endlessly as a child, giving you everything you wanted, because clearly your parents failed to treat you like the princess you deserved to be.
“happy birthday, uncle minseok!” you said, stepping forward to hug him, genuinely happy to see him. the gifts were still left by the entrance, but you always had your own little privileges. “this is for you, i hope you like it… even if you are getting old.”
inside the small wrapped bag was a simple package of marshmallows, as your mother immediately noticed, lightly tapping your shoulder. “(name), this is inappropriate.”
“calm down,” minseok laughed warmly, taking the bag from your hands without a second thought. “she knows exactly what to give someone.” he glanced at you with a grin, because this candy has become very significant during the years, something small but from the heart. “thank you, my dear. you’ll get the second piece of cake.”
the evening continued with drinks being passed around, conversations flowing about business, and whatever gossip caught your ear. at some point, your godfather rested a hand on your shoulder, “come, there’s someone i want you to meet,” he said casually, guiding you through the crowd. “a very dear friend of mine, and an excellent photographer. you might learn a thing or two.”
you didn’t think much of it at first, nodding as you followed along, heels clicking softly against the polished floor, your drink still in hand. this would be just another introduction for you to smile at a stranger. this would hopefully be someone you could form a connection with to help you in the future when you do decide to pursue a career, but just like that, everything in your body turned upside down. your entire world tilted and your pulse quickened, because of course it had to be him.
dressed like absolute sin in a suit that made it painfully obvious he knew exactly what he was doing. professional and put together… but unlike on campus, where he toned it down by being casual and relatable to young people your age, here amongst people closer to his age and high calibre, he wasn’t holding back. the clothes fit him perfectly, outlining his frame in a way that makes you force yourself not to react — masking your expression into something neutral that doesn't scream what the hell are you doing here.
“yunho,” minseok called out, catching his attention. “ah, perfect timing, indeed. i want you to meet someone.”
yunho turned, and for a split second, his eyes met yours. there it was, that familiar recognition, gone just as quickly as it appeared. his own expression of shock smoothed out instantly, slipping into that same composed mask you had grown to despise.
“this is my goddaughter, (name),” minseok continued proudly, squeezing your shoulders by the exposed skin your dress created. “she’s studying photography as well.”
you swallowed and played along, like you were meeting him for the very first time. as if you didn’t know the way his hands felt, or how his voice sounded when it wasn’t calm and controlled, the way he used to look at you when no one else was around… as if you hadn’t let him take your virginity.
“it’s a pleasure to meet you,” you said, offering your hand with a polite smile that stung like acid to hold. his gaze lingered for just a moment too long before he took it. warm and bigger than yours, soft too, just like it always has been, perfectly made to fit.
“the pleasure is all mine, miss (name),” yunho replied, smiling at you, and god, you hate how natural he makes it sound, like you’re nothing more than a stranger he’s just been introduced to. but of course, he doesn’t stop there. the pad of his thumb brushes lightly against your knuckles before he lets go.
it wasn’t awkward, more like… unsettling in a way that made your skin itch. it wasn’t just that you saw him every week at the university, no, now he was here too, at an event where you were supposed to have fun, not stand there thinking of at least five different ways to get away with his murder. your godfather, completely unaware of the tension, patted your shoulder before turning to yunho. “i’ll leave her in your care, and (name), you might want to take some photos now that it’s still not too crowded. have fun, kiddos.”
and just like that, minseok walked away, leaving you alone with the man you hated the most.
your blood started boiling like molten lava almost instantly. the fake smile dropped the second his back disappeared into the crowd, your nails digging into your palms as you inhaled slowly through your nose and you stared at yunho with pure and undisguised hatred.
"you know it's not very polite to stare." he was fixing something on the camera, or looking at photos, you didn't know, but you knew one thing, and that was that you hated him. “so, how is your project going? did you fix what i told you to?”
you stiffen for a split second, your smile tightening as you look at him, because of course he would say that here, of all places, since he just couldn’t resist torturing outside campus.
“i wasn’t aware this was a consultation,” you reply sweetly, but your tone carries that hostile warning of a bark that tells him you are about to bite like an angry dog.
“old habits,” he hummed softly, deleting a few blurred pictures.
“yeah?” you shot back, one eyebrow rising, “then maybe you should work on dropping a few of them.”
“that explains a lot.” the way he calmly answers makes you want to punch him.
“explains what exactly? you enjoying your little performance? you’re very convincing, i’ll give you that.”
“i don’t know what you mean,” he says lightly, though the way he looks at you says the exact opposite. liar. something about the way you’re talking back instead of ignoring him, clearly tells him one thing — you haven’t moved on completely.
“you still get worked up so easily,” murmuring almost to himself, but loud enough for you to hear.
“you still talk too much,” you snapped, and he took a step closer, enough to close some of the distance, his presence more noticeable and intimidating, and you sometimes forget how tall he actually is.
a small smile tugged at his lips because, truth be told, he was enjoying this far too much. his eyes were scanning your face, studying every reaction of the grimace you tried so hard to hide. you scoffed, crossing your arms, tapping your freshly done nails against your skin, irritation written all over, and for a moment neither of you spoke. the noise of the party faded into the background as the tension stretched like silk almost pulled to the point of tearing between you.
then yunho exhaled softly, removing the camera strap from his head, he closed the lens cap and put it back in the small bag, leaving it on the desk he evidently used for work here.
“what about we take a walk?” yunho suddenly suggests, tone light, sounding harmless and innocent. “talk a few things out. it seems like you have a lot to say.”
you should have said no. you should’ve walked straight back to your parents while ignoring him like you’ve been fighting tooth and nail to do, but somehow… you didn’t. maybe it was the tone of his voice, coaxing you with the way he said it like a suggestion, not a command, even though it somehow felt like one. or maybe it was just him, knowing exactly what to say, with just the right intonation for invitation.
“fine,” you muttered, big mistake.
he guided you through the venue, away from the main crowd and toward a quieter part of the hotel where the noise began to dull and the lights softened because fewer people meant fewer distractions. now it’s just you and him, the way he’s been craving and aching for.
then he stopped.
reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a pack of cigarettes. you frowned slightly as he pulled out a cigarette, placing it between his lips before lighting it and exhaling slowly, white smoke curling between the two of you before dissipating into the air.
“you’re smoking again?”
“you’re staring again.”
“i’m judging,” you correct. “i thought you quit.”
“i did,” he agrees, “for you.”
then he takes another drag, eyes never leaving yours, but you know you were the main reason, if not the only one, for him to quit. you hated the smell and the taste that transferred once you shared a kiss. or two. or dozen… neither of you ever bothered to count.
“stress does things, work, life… you find ways to relieve the tension,” he continues after a moment, carefully choosing every word to get a reaction out of you. he shares just enough, mentioning that the workload and the pressure made him go back to this bad habit, skimming over the real reason without ever actually saying it — the break up. of course, he wouldn’t admit that to you. he never gives you the full truth, only carefully selected pieces.
and as he speaks, you find yourself checking him out. you feel steel heavy shame that you are, but you can’t help it. he looks… good. no, that’s an understatement. dressed like he stepped out of some magazine, a black coat draped over his broad shoulders, a clean white button-up tucked neatly under a fitted black vest, finished off with a loosely worn black satin tie. as much as you want to deny it, to lie to yourself, roll your eyes… you can’t. when it comes to jeong yunho, all bets are off, because he’s so fucking hot.
yunho stubs out the cigarette, pressing it into the ashtray beside him. you’re both sitting on the edge of a small staircase, tucked away from most of the guests, the noise of the party distant like background static.
then, without much thought, he shrugs off his coat and throws it over his shoulder. the movement is simple, but it draws your attention to his rolled sleeves, exposing his slim but defined forearms, his veins faintly visible under the skin. his cords of muscle hold subtle tension that make it really goddamn difficult not to look. it gives him this quiet intensity, composed on the surface but never fully restrained underneath. a wildfire raging beneath a perfectly composed surface.
you really try to look away, only to realize something else, that you didn’t bring a jacket. you’re wearing a short black dress, feminine shoulders bare, the evening air cooler than you expected. it hadn’t mattered before since you won’t stay outside the venue all night, and yet before you can even think about it properly, warmth settles around you.
snapping out of your thoughts, your gaze shifts downward to see his coat now draped around your shoulders. when you look up, yunho is already adjusting his sleeves again, completely unfazed, like the gesture means nothing at all.
“so,” he says casually, sitting down beside you on the staircase, spreading his legs slightly as he leans back on one hand, the other idly flipping his metal lighter open and closed, “graduating soon, right? any plans career-wise?”
it catches you off guard. you almost scoff, because wasn’t he the one who suggested this, the one who said you had a lot to say. the truth is, you don’t, at least not to him. now he’s the one guiding the conversation somewhere… normal. like so normal that you’re not sitting next to your ex, who is actively messing with your head.
“i’m planning to try abroad.”
“where?”
“i’m not going to tell you,” you glance at him, narrowing your eyes slightly. “don’t want you suddenly becoming my coworker.”
that earns a chuckle from him. “you really think i’d follow you that far?”
you don’t answer, because you’re not entirely sure he wouldn’t. he makes it very clear that he is not talking about your career. the silence settles again, but it doesn’t feel empty. it feels intentional, as if he’s waiting for the exact right moment to put the puzzle piece into place.
you shift slightly on the step, exhaling through your nose, trying to ignore how aware you are of him sitting so close beside you. the party noise is distant now, blurred into nothing. now it’s just the two of you, tucked away in a space that suddenly feels too small… then he speaks again.
“are you seeing someone right now?”
your eyes flick to him immediately, but you don’t give him the satisfaction of a proper answer. “none of your business.”
no reaction at first, just the soft click of his lighter opening again. the small flame appears, disappears, and flickers back to life as he plays with it absentmindedly. it’s almost hypnotic, the rhythm of it: small flame, bigger flame, gone again. he’s buying time, or making you sit in discomfort a little longer than necessary. you stare at it longer than you should, trying to steady yourself. it’s stupid, but it gives your eyes somewhere else to go and your mind something else to focus on.
he exhales quietly, then the lighter closes with a soft snap, and he looks at you.
“jaemin, right?” he says like he’s commenting on the weather. “he seems like a nice guy, but doesn’t seem like your type.”
everything in you stops, freezes like you’ve just touched a block of ice. your entire body goes still for half a second too long andyour expression betrays you before you can even think to control it. it’s shock at first, then disbelief, because you never told him a name, or anything of the sort. never even showed signs of you being involved with someone else.
your mind starts racing immediately — how does he know that? how long has he known? what else does he know?
only a few people know you’ve been seeing jaemin, and yes, you do post stories with him just like you do with the other people you trust, people who wouldn’t… your fingers tighten unconsciously around the fabric of his coat still resting on your shoulders.
“how do you know that?” your voice comes out lower than you intended. yunho tilts his head slightly, observing a reaction he already predicted, since just confirmed something he was quietly testing. a faint smirk pulls at his lips, he shrugs, leaning back on one hand as his gaze stays fixed on you.
“you’re the campus's new hotshot couple,” lies, obvious lies. you know it, he knows it, but the confidence in his voice makes it sound real. rumors, gossip, students talking, maybe someone exaggerating something they saw, but nothing that should have him perfectly informed with a name.
you don’t even realize your grip has tightened until the fabric of his coat shifts slightly under your fingers.
“relax, i’m not interfering.” but his tone says otherwise, “you can date whoever you want.”
you can't because you are mine.
yunho doesn’t move away while talking; he closes the distance slowly instead, testing exactly how far you’ll let him go before you stop him. knee brushing yours, nudging you teasingly, he doesn’t break eye contact, and doesn’t give you space to believe or question anything. because the way he says it doesn’t sound like permission, it sounds like ownership he’s pretending not to enforce.
“you lost the right to care about who i see a long time ago.”
oh?
amused by how you’re trying so hard to stand your ground, trembling just beneath the surface. it’s beautiful like that, so unfiltered and honest. aren’t you the prettiest little angel when you’re angry? when you’re fighting him, resisting him, convincing yourself you’ve moved on. it’s almost impressive, and adorable. your will is always too big for your own good, too loud to stay buried, always insisting things should go your way, even when reality bends differently once he is in the picture.
he’s memorizing it all over again with the way your breath changes when he gets too close, the way you refuse to look away even when it would be easier. your eyes are the most dangerous part of you, he decides. they’re full of everything at once — malice, frustration, sadness you pretend isn’t there, excitement you refuse to acknowledge. a fire that burns brighter than the weak flicker of the lighter between his fingers earlier. a fire that could bring him to his knees if he let it.
but he won’t, he knows how to protect himself.
he knows you better than anyone else ever has. better than those two annoying best friends of yours, than jeongin, better than jaemin, even your parents. better than the version of yourself you try to present to the world.
yunho doesn’t need to chase because he knows your anger will bring you to him. he doesn’t need to beg, either. not when pulling the right strings of your nervous system is far more satisfying, watching you unravel and logic slipping away piece by piece until all that’s left is emotion, exactly how he wants you. he doesn’t need you rational, he needs you emotional. to destabilize you until you’re reacting instead of analyzing, feeling instead of understanding, until you’re his again in everything but name.
your thoughts slow, your focus breaks, you start reacting instead of thinking… just like he planned.
it’s sudden when it happens, you grab his collar, and before he can even fully process it, you pull him in and kiss him. not what people would call romantic, it’s out of pure spite and the need to shut him up. it’s messy, all teeth and frustration and months of things left unsaid. it’s the words i hate you pressed into his mouth like a punishment.
yunho doesn’t take control immediately. he lets you bite his lip and put all that frustration finally into something tangible, lets you pretend this is just about physically shutting him up. yunho lets you have your moment of control, an illusion of victory, because he can feel you’re not over him… should the fact that he isn’t over you either be good or bad news?
only then does he finally respond, when your breath catches in that familiar way, something in him snaps as he kisses you back. the taste is noticeably bitter, ashy, and slightly stale. a trace of smoke still clings to him, dry against your tongue with that faint chemical edge, following the chemical romance between you that has no clear answer or reaction to this day, only that it is intense.
his lips part slightly against yours, the movement slow, testing. he deepens the kiss, blurring the line between hesitation and intent, one hand sliding up to your neck, fingers resting there, guiding rather than forcing. he pulls you closer, and the way your breath stutters in the gorgeous column of your throat, the way your body reacts to his body without thinking, tells him everything he needs to know.
then, just as suddenly, he stops. not pulling away completely, neither of you really wants to break it, but he’s the one who finally pulls back first. you’re left staring at each other, chests inviting air in and out in hurried paces to catch your breaths.
“you look at me like you hate me…” and doesn’t seem like you want to stop, though. “but you always looked at me like that.”
there’s something in his expression, satisfaction, like your reaction alone is enough. your breathing is uneven, lips slightly parted, and you hate how aware you are of him again: how close he is and how familiar it feels. your lipstick is slightly smudged, some of it transferred onto him, and the sight alone makes something twist in your stomach.
because you want more, but you don’t want to want him.
this is wrong on so many levels, kissing your ex out of nowhere, yet your body remembers him far too well, as it responds far too much. it’s frustrating, confusing, and addicting in a way you wish it wasn’t. what are you even supposed to do now?
“this isn’t a good place…” he says after a moment, glancing briefly toward the direction of the party before looking back at you. “…unless you want an audience.”
and suddenly it feels like the decision is yours, except it isn’t. because the way he looks at you says he already knows what you’ll choose.
by the time you are fully recovered his hand is already around yours, fingers lacing, as his grip doesn’t loosen, not once, he already knows you won’t pull away. he starts walking and you’re just following along without questioning it.
away from the crowd, into the quieter parts of the hotel, the lobby is nearly empty, the noise fading behind you as he moves straight for the elevators. he presses the button, and as if perfectly timed, the doors slide open to an empty cabin.
you step inside, and the moment the doors close behind you, the space feels smaller and tighter. mirrors line the walls, reflecting everything from every angle. no matter where you look, it’s him first and only then, you.
yunho and mirrors are a dangerous combination, because he doesn’t just want to feel you, he wants to watch you feel him and memorise the way you submit to his touch each and every time he manages to catch you. standing behind you, his taller frame hovering close, his chest warm against your back even if he doesn’t fully press himself in. still, if you lean back even slightly, he knows he has you.
his lips brush your shoulder, not quite a kiss, more like a promise of one. he makes you aware of everything — your breathing, the expression on your pretty face, how close you really are to him. one hand slides low, brushing your thigh right where the hem of your dress ends, while the other rises to your face. his soft fingers tilt your chin upward. he doesn’t need to do much to make you go insane; his voice does most of the work, not his body.
“all that attitude, and look at you now,” murmuring right next to your ear. the hand resting on your thigh doesn’t move further, and somehow you react more to what almost happens than to what actually does. as if hypnotized, trying to hold onto some sense of control, but it’s slipping fast, because your eyes betray you again. “is that really how someone looks when they want me gone?”
he doesn’t think of himself as a freak about it. he just likes watching, prefers you vulnerable like this. his eyes never leave your reflection, taking in the way your lips part, your lashes flutter, the way you try to close your eyes against how overwhelming it feels.
“don’t close your eyes, doll.” his voice is low, slightly rougher, his fingers tightening just a little on your jaw. you forgot how much you loved being called that, and how much it didn't help your attempts at resistance. “i want you to see what i’m doing to you.”
the hand on your leg slips beneath your dress until it finds the soft fabric of your panties, and you’re already so wet. his fingers press against you through the material, enough to make your breath hitch while moving in a slow and controlled rhythm as you squirm in result. your back arches finally pressing into him, and he exhales softly against your ear, completely obsessed with the sight of you falling apart in front of him.
“y-yun–” his name halfway leaves your lips in a soft whine, breaking into something breathier when he moves just right. he loves the way you say his name like it belongs in your mouth, and believe it or not, it’s already tattooed on your skin with invisible ink.
“keep looking.” his thumb brushes over your bottom lip, guiding your attention back to the mirror. your thighs tremble, and your hands clutch at his forearm. the way your body reacts instantly, the way he has literal heart eyes when you make that sound again, his dick pulsating at the sight as he leans down slightly, lips grazing the shell of your ear. “see how pretty you look like this?”
you move without thinking, pressing back against him, your legs drawing closer together as if it might help, when his name slips from your lips again, your eyes glossy, barely staying open like he told you to, he smiles faintly against your skin.
“good girl.” but being good doesn’t mean you get everything. if anything, it means the opposite, because he’s making you want it first. you feel it before you can think about it. he could push you further, make you admit things, but he knows you won’t, not yet.
a soft ding breaks through the moment. his gaze flicks up toward the numbers, 10th floor.
the doors are about to open, the risk of someone being there and catching you… and just like that, he stops. he withdraws, leaving you aching, breath uneven, your body still caught in the aftermath of something unfinished. the doors slide open, and thankfully, no one’s there. the hallway is empty; most guests are still downstairs celebrating, others are already asleep. not that he would care much… or maybe he would. yunho has never liked sharing or the idea of anyone else seeing what he considers his.
he reaches toward you again, and for a second you think… but no. his hand slips into the coat you’re still wearing, pulling out the key card from the inner pocket.
“come on, angel… we don’t have all night.” all night. you don’t even know what time it is. your purse is still downstairs, abandoned at the table with your parents, your phone out of reach, “need help walking?”
he asks, and that more than anything, pulls you back to reality. because when you glance at the mirror again, you finally see yourself properly. flushed and out of breath. your dress is slightly ridden up, your lips parted, your entire body still buzzing with heat that hasn’t gone anywhere. fuck. you’re left standing there, completely worked up, and he’s the only one who can do anything about it.
you know this is wrong, but your body isn’t listening. the empty hallway was your chance to leave, yet your feet never moved. you should have walked away, right then and there… so why didn’t you? zoning out and staring into the void of nothingness, thinking how no one can even compare and you hate that it’s still him who makes you lose your sanity. with yunho, it was never just attraction and maybe that’s the problem. you hate him. you hate this. you hate that you don’t hate it enough.
telling yourself you still have a choice, only that you don’t. because somehow, without realizing it, you’re already following him to his room. the door closes behind you with a quiet click that feels louder than it should, and suddenly you don’t move.
you don’t sit. you just stand there, near the edge of the bed, fingers fidgeting with the ends of the sleeves, pulling the fabric over your hands as if it might calm you somehow. your breathing still hasn’t settled, your body is still carrying everything from moments ago.
he moves further into the room as if you being here is expected and inevitable. his hand reaches up to his collar, his eyes don’t leave you, though, not once. fingers hooking under the knot of his tie, loosening it slowly, sliding it from around his neck, the fabric slipping through his fingers before he lets it hang loosely in his hand. he stands there too, looking at your posture, and the way you haven’t dared to sit or do anything at all.
his lips twitch slightly when your fingers pause for half a second, then continue. you don’t dare to talk, you don’t trust your voice right now. he takes a step closer, then another, slowly closing the space between you until it feels suffocating again, and you’re aware of him in the same way you were in the elevator.
“take a seat,” he says softly, “you don’t have to stand there like that,” and you obey.
you sit right at the edge of the bed, back straight, still clutching the sleeves, as yunho watches you for a moment longer. then, without breaking eye contact, he lowers himself not onto the bed, but down, kneeling in front of you.
it shouldn’t feel the way it does, as if he were praying to his goddess for a blessing of a lifetime. it should be unsettling, he chose this position for a reason; he wants to be right here, close enough to see every reaction you try to hide. his hands rest lightly against your legs at first, thumbs caressing the flesh as you tense, but don’t pull away.
“do you know…” fingers sliding slightly higher, tracing and craving, then there’s a pause. “how hard it was not to think about you?” not crossing any line too fast, he continued, eyes fixed on your face, “to see you every week, and pretend we are just strangers?”
his razor sharp gaze softens for what you can barely count a millisecond, before it shifts back to its sinister depths, something that looks a little too close to obsession.
“should i? or are you going to pretend you don’t want this?”
beneath the dress, fingers slipping under the fabric as he hooks into your waistband and starts to pull it down. you are leaning in just slightly, giving him the access he’s already taken. that’s all the permission he needs. the delicate lace follows, sliding down until it pools at your feet, as you gently kick them fully aside with the help of your heels.
"last chance to leave, angel... say or do something if you want me to stop.”
holding himself back, and it’s taking more effort than he wants to admit. his gaze drags over you, taking in every detail like he’s been starved of it.
you look the same. no, you like you never left him at all.
his jaw tightens faintly because god, he missed you. no matter how much time passed or how many distractions he surrounded himself with, nothing and no one helped. they didn’t look right or feel right, they simply weren’t you.
you changed, of course you did. your hair, your style, the perfume, even the way you carry yourself now, like you’ve grown into something that bites back.
but he sees through it: you are just a little sheep wearing the wolf’s head.
and he is the wolf wearing a sheep’s clothing.
something restless stirring beneath his skin, the way it creeps in, settles deep, refuses to leave. he’s been stuck on a feeling, just can't stop, once ain't enough.
his thumb presses just a little firmer, grounding himself, because he might actually lose that thin thread of control he’s still pretending to have.
“i hate you.” you say but your legs part for him. his head tilts at that, tongue pressing into his cheek, amused, your defiance only entertains him more. don’t mind him then, as he eases you back, gaze heavy on you, his hands slide firmly to your thighs, guiding you then lifting your legs to settle over his shoulders.
he looks at you like he’s about to show you what heaven feels like when its most precious and divine being finally falls from grace.
yunho loves teasing you with his words almost as much as he loves tasting you. his tongue dives in, relentless at first, exploring every twitching nerve that seems to remember him all to well, then deeper, faster and harder. he pushes in and out like he’s trying to swallow you whole, sliding in and out with perfect rhythm.
“babydoll, you’re so sweet,” he groans, licking and sucking, eyes rolling back when he finally tastes you. you're addicting. he laps up your juices, swirling his tongue on your clit. “did you save all this for me?”
his hands grip your thighs, holding you open, pressing you closer as he devours you like a meal he can’t get enough of. every moan, quiet or loud, drives him further to the sinful gates of temptation. he buries his face in you, lips and tongue hungry, mouth wet, making sure every inch of you is tasted.
“look at you, trembling for me…” he whispers, nibbling at your inner thigh between laps of your cunt. he’s relentless with the words, praising every tiny quiver, “that’s it, you’re such a good girl, letting me do this.”
god, your pussy’s perfect. can’t believe this is all his to play with after a whole year of craving you. the way he grins while teasing you, making you feel like you’re both the most desirable and most obedient thing in the world.
“you like it when i talk to you like this, hm? gonna make you scream my name before i even touch you properly,” he teases, tongue pushing deeper, fingers brushing where you couldn't even reach. every compliment and filthy line makes your body shake more, your pussy grip tighter around nothing, dripping just from his mouth and words.
he mixes praise and filth, so you’re caught between feeling worshiped and utterly used. the combination makes you desperate and completely under his control. by the time he lifts his head, cheeks wet, lips shiny with your slick, because he knows exactly what he’s done to you — and he isn’t done yet.
“mmh… yunho–” your back arches, hips rising to meet him despite yourself. you’re dripping, trembling, completely lost to the sloppy sounds of his tongue. he groans, deep in his throat, enjoying the taste of you. he doesn’t rush when he devours and dominates your senses. “fuck, you are so… hahh–”
your legs are clamping around his head as your hands tug his hair, gosh it’s still so soft to the touch. your chest heaving, voice hoarse from moaning, and yunho finally lifts his head, grinning at the mess he made glistening on his lips. wiping his mouth slowly, chuckling, because he’s left you begging without even doing too much.
“mmhm,” diving back in as his fingers brushing against your clit while his tongue plunges deeper. he just keeps going — tongue flicking, fingers circling, whispering filthy praises with every movement. “that’s it, that’s my good girl… come on, let it all out for me.”
your walls clench and your pussy gushes over his tongue, spurting uncontrollably as your legs tremble and your back arches off the surface. yunho groans, licking up every drop, smiling like the maniac he is, “god, you’re insane… look at you squirting for me.”
he doesn’t stop, still moving, coaxing out every last drop, praising you with every breath he takes. his thoughts are full of you, and soon enough, you will be full of him. “mine, you are only mine… keep coming for me, angel.”
you’ve never felt so ruined and so completely at his mercy.
“i should leave you like this,” he adds, quieter, more to himself than to you. the idea actually tempts him, letting you feel exactly how easy it is for him to get you like this. “send you back downstairs all pretty, like nothing happened…” a soft exhale followed, “...but you wouldn’t make it far.”
pulling back, but his fingers keep toying with your clit, and you’re already so sensitive from that alone. he talks dirty in that manic and possessive way of his, murmuring about how he’ll keep you in the dress and the heels, since you can’t spend the night with him… no matter how much he wants you to.
he eases your legs off his shoulders, standing up with a slow stretch, but before he can even undress, he steps back in between your shaky legs, looking down at you with that same secretive, almost warm smile. maybe it’s love, maybe it’s lust, if not both. his index finger and thumb catch your chin, tilting your face up so you have no choice but to look at him, especially when you were trying so hard not to. how cute.
“drop the act, dollface,” he growled, his fingers slide down, big palm spreading around your throat, squeezing to cut off that long-awaited breath you wanted to take, watching you closely, eyes fixed on your lips as they start to quiver with every subtle tightening of his grip. “or do i need to remind you who you belong to?”
one moment he’s choking you, the next, he’s already stripped from the waist down, preparing you to take him.
lying on your back on the bed, with him hovering above you, one long finger slides inside you, immediately feeling how tight and slick you are as he starts to move. he watches closely, eyes fixed on the way your face twists with undeniable pleasure, all while his own cock pulses hot against your leg. a second finger slips in beside the first, and you feel the stretch right away. your walls clenching around him, creaming over his knuckles as small, broken sounds leave your throat, half cough, half whine, still trying to catch the breath he stole from you.
“there it is… i was waiting for that.” and by that, he means you being ready to take him. his thumb drags over the tip of his throbbing cock, stroking himself a few slow times, and your gaze drops — was he always this big? you’re not even sure how you’re supposed to take it… how you managed before. he’s thick, lining up at your soaked entrance, pushing your walls to their limit before he’s even halfway in, your cunt already molding around his size.
missionary is always a gamble with him, because you never know which version you’re going to get: the gentle one, the mean one, the jealous one… there are options, but you’re never the one choosing. this time, he is a meanie. a creature of extreme sadism.
all you can do beneath him is squirm and cry, clinging helplessly to every inch of him he gives you, heavy as he presses in, hitting places your own fingers could never reach. he grunts softly, hips pulling back again because you’re still not full of him, not yet. he has to carve the shape of himself into your insides, and claim you properly, like he always will.
maybe you’re already close, just from the way he moves. shallow at first, his pelvis dragging sinfully against you, making your writhing body jolt upwards on the bed. he switches between soft and controlled thrusts to slow and grinding circles, anything to ease you and help your body relax, make you greedy enough to take him deeper.
“is that all you do, cry?” yunho hisses under his breath, lips brushing wet against your ear as your nails dig into his shoulders. his cock presses right against your most sensitive spot, pulling a loud moan from you, and you think it’s too deep already, when he is not even that deep. “babydoll, be a good girl for me and take every inch, yeah? no, don’t cry now… you can handle it, because you’re mine… my pretty girl.”
your eyes sting, tears slipping free, smudging your makeup a bit. it’s been so long since you had any sexual intercourse, a whole year. you didn’t even do anything more than a few careless kisses and make out sessions with jaemin, nothing that even comes close to tonight’s carnal ravaging.
you need yunho. not just inside you, you need him under your skin, running through your dna. you hate his guts, you do, but god, he fucks you so well you can feel him in your guts.
the tears fall, catching the light like silver, as if tiny diamonds slip down your cheeks as he stretches you open again.
his fingers lace with yours, pinning your hands against the mattress as he hisses filthy praises into your ear. your sensitive cunt takes every devastating thrust, each one pulling out those wet and sloppy sounds, the kind that make you want to scream again and again until your vocal cords tear apart and you lose your voice for days as a reminder of what yunho is doing to do you. what he will always do to you. the way his cock drives fully into you sends that overwhelming urge through your quivering body, threatening to make you come undone, you’re not even sure if you want to. it’s a sensation so intense, such painfully good pressure building with nowhere to go.
you’re so cockdrunk it’s insane. you always thought you were in control, always told yourself he wasn’t a good person, but the dick was too good to let go. he fits too perfectly, like he was made just for you.
“scream for me, doll,” he groans, that husky tone rolling off his tongue and straight through you, pulling a helpless whimper from your lips. his brown eyes flick over your face, taking in every desperate expression like he’s committing it to memory, because watching you fall apart is his favorite part. his pre-cum leaves a messy ring at the base of his cock, trailing down the inside of your thighs, and maybe if he weren’t so consumed by you, he’d comment on just how desperate you look.
“yu-yunho–!” his name tears from your throat as it echoes through the room. his hips snap into yours without mercy, hard enough to leave bruises. your back lifts off the bed, arching into the overwhelming rush flooding your body. you praise and beg for him, pushing him further into ecstasy as he presses you back down every time you move too much.
“you think anyone else could handle you like this?” yunho coos, his pace picking up, thrusts growing faster and faster, until your thighs start to numb. “think anyone could love you the way i do?”
“yunho, please… ahh–” you hear yourself, like you’re outside your own body and have lost control of even your own voice. all you can feel is your nails digging into his back, your body tightening around him as you suddenly break, soaking him, your release spilling over his cock. and still his eyes stay on you, he adores your face more than anything else. it’s almost as if your reactions to the pleasure only he can give you appeal more to him than the sex itself.
“you say you hate me, but i bet you were just mad at me, yeah?”
but you’re too stubborn to admit that, refusing to give him even that much satisfaction. you close your eyes, trying to reclaim some dominance over him, but he only chuckles, bringing his hips to a stop at the fading edge of his own release.
that’s what makes your eyes snap open, staring up at him. “why’d you–?”
“i asked you a question, angel,” he sneers. one hand drifts down to your clit, rubbing slow, agonizing circles that pull a helpless whine from your throat, your head tosses back.
“p-please, yu– i can’t, i–” but your legs stay wrapped tight around his waist, pulling him closer, deeper, your heels pressing cold against the heat of his body.
his other hand moves, this time settling around your throat. at first, it’s loose, enough pressure to make you notice. then it tightens as he watches everything: from the way your lips part, to how your chest struggles to rise. completely focused on how dependent you become on him for air. forcing eye contact, watching you go from stubborn to needy, leaning in close to whisper instead of raising his voice.
“tell me if it’s too much… go on.” with every small twitch or squirm, it only makes his grip tighten more, restricting your breathing while muttering praise after praise. what a fucking sadistic psychopath. “so pretty like this…can barely breathe and still taking me so well.”
pushing your limits on purpose, to remind you exactly who’s in control. he feels the way you start to struggle, your body begins to give, and only then does his grip loosen.
air rushes back into your lungs all at once, burning on the way in. your chest stutters, breaths coming out broken and uneven instead of steady. your vision blurs, tears slipping freely now, and you don’t even realize you’re shaking until he notices it first. his hand doesn’t leave your throat. it stays there, fingers still curved around it, no longer squeezing, just resting.
“there you go, babydoll,” his voice drops, softer now, but no less heavy. “breathe.”
but he’s watching you too closely for it to feel like kindness. his thumb drags slowly over the spot he pressed into, feeling the rapid flutter of your pulse beneath his touch. your lips part, pulling in air that still doesn’t feel like enough, as another broken sound slips out of you.
it does something to him. you like this, glassy-eyed and trembling, wants him to hold onto this exact version of you for as long as he can. then, without warning, he leans in. his lips press against yours. it’s not an apology, far from it. a kiss that lingers just long enough to steal the breath you just fought to get back, a quiet reminder of how easily he can take it and when he pulls away, there’s the faintest hint of a smile, because he’d do it again.
“shh, don’t cry… you know i take care of what’s mine.” still too dizzy to think about anything but breathing and kissing, your legs are thrown over his broad shoulders, his hands pushing them closer to your head to get the angle just right. he watches himself slide between your folds, then looks down at you like he’s never seen anything more beautiful.
you glance down to where your bodies meet, even if every instinct tells you to pull away, but there’s nowhere to go. every movement hits heavier, deeper; your body can’t tell the difference between pleasure and pressure anymore. he drags himself all the way out at a torturously slow pace, only to push back in just as cruelly.
"s-shit… don’t move,” he groans, thrusting into you, when he finally decides to snap his hips, his pelvis pressed against yours. his fingers find your sensitive clit again, rubbing it fast to get you to cum again, throwing his head back as he thrusts one last time, before shooting his load into your aching cunt. spurts of warm cum fill your insides while you wither beneath him, all hot and sweaty, not even processing the mess both of you made under the clean bedsheets.
his cock was pulsing so hard you could feel it bulging through your tummy, filling you to the brim as you milk him dry. his palm presses flat against your lower stomach, and he actually smirks when he feels and sees the faint movement beneath, occasionally shifting his hand lower or higher just to make you lose focus mid-thought.
“you fell that, doll?”
do you feel how deep my love runs for you?
yunho looks at you like he’s completely gone, someone who operates on obsession, trying to imprint himself into every part of you, leave something behind that no one else could ever do. he’s smug about it too, of course he is. he just won in life, like out of everything in the world, he got you. fuck, wishing he had his camera right now, just to capture this exact moment. you look unreal beneath him, divine even dressed in black, an angel dragged down just for him.
his voice softens, murmuring sweet nothings under his breath as he leans in, pressing slow kisses to your cheeks, your temple, the bridge of your nose. gentler now, calming you down after everything he just put you through. a quick peck lands on your lips, lingering just a little longer than it needs to.
finally, yunho pulls out, watching closely as a small trace of him drips from you. his fingers follow immediately, sinking to keep it all in. then he pulls you up, arms wrapping around you, holding you tight against his chest, lips pressing into your hair, breathing you in like he doesn’t get enough of you, even now.
the aftercare is minimal, because it has to be. he lets you rest for a few minutes, helps you steady yourself, maybe guides you to the bathroom, helps you fix your clothes and makeup, and put your panties back on, while he dresses himself again as if nothing happened. and only now, that you’re about to leave, does he decide to act sweet.
“you good, need anything else?”
“i’ll manage, thank you very much, asshole.”
you smile through your teeth, already turning, only to wobble slightly in your heels. gee, wonder why, like you just didn't have some mindblowing sex. making your way out, you’re glowing, there’s no other word for it. a little wrecked, sure, a little unsteady, but shining brighter than the stars in the sky.
he doesn’t close the door right away, waits until you step into the elevator, as the doors slide shut and you’re out of sight. only then does he finally close it, the click echoing a little too loud in the empty room. he leans back for a second, alone with himself, because yeah, he’s an asshole, he knows that.
but you’ll always come back to him, and he’ll always come back to you.
having big gaps between classes was something you enjoyed, but sometimes hated. just like you hate everything about him. from the smug smirk that pulls at the corner of his mouth to how his fingers are inside your mouth, making you gag and be disgusted by the way he does such things like he owns you — he doesn’t.
he’s your ex, the one you’ve tried so hard to forget: the sound of his voice, the way he felt under your skin. now his lips are back on your neck, sucking, kissing, leaving marks you’ll have to cover the second you walk out of his office once he’s done fucking you on his desk. you feel his thumb press against your throat, taking his time, teasing you in ways you swore you would never let him do that again, claiming you like he never left.
trying to tell him, no but your body keeps telling him yes.
you should be disappointed in yourself, letting him pull you off track like this, letting him take control when you know better. yet, with every touch and mark sends heat racing through you, clouding your mind until you can barely remember why you hate him so much. is it because he wasn’t who you thought he was… or because you still feel something for him? hating him is easier than admitting you never stopped wanting him.
you don’t want to care; you want to despise him for what he did and for who he is. but that’s slipping away when your legs wrap around his waist, pulling him closer, eyes roll back when he slides inside of you, filling you completely, making you forget everything else. you want to resist, hold onto the anger, but you can’t. not when he’s deep inside, hitting all the spots that make you arch and gasp, his name falls from your lips even when you swore you’d never let it happen again.
“y-yunho... faster!” you choke out, hands clawing at his back, desperate and needy, but of course, he doesn’t give in that easily. yunho only slows down, teasing you, lips curling into that infuriating grin against your skin.
“angel, i told you to be quiet, didn’t i?” he murmurs, voice low and slightly mocking, “so impatient, as always. good things come when you obey… and wait.”
you are tired of waiting and being toyed with, and if he’s going to take his sweet time, then you’ll make sure he regrets it. your nails dig into his shoulders, even through his shirt, hard enough to strain the fabric and leave marks far more lasting than the lipstick stain on that secret polaroid sitting on his nightstand.
"stop being such a dick and fuck me already!" you hate him, you repeat it to yourself over and over, until his breath is hot against your neck and his hands are gripping your hips as if he’ll never let go.
and just like that, he snaps, relentless now, giving you exactly what you begged for.
his pace quickens, the plastic creaks underneath, each thrust pushing you closer to that edge, all you can think about is him, all you can feel is him. the hate melts away, replaced by a pleasure so overwhelming it almost hurts. you are so full, burning hot by how he uses your body as a canvas to paint you all white with no drops going to waste. purity and innocence, those words don’t exist for you anymore, as they are replaced with sin and punishment.
“that’s it, pretty. feels good, yeah?” he knows exactly how the two of you collide, like you’re at war with each other. it’s rough, as it drags your pride and self-respect straight through the dirt. the relationship is so damn dysfunctional, but yunho knows you better than anyone else. you don’t even realize how much he thrives on this, how easily you let him take control. he loves you like this: soft and bratty, vulnerable and entirely his.
you hope, no, you pray, that the good thing he promised finally comes, because you can’t take much more of this. when it hits, it crashes through you at the same time as him, your cries muffled against his shoulder, your chest rising and falling as all that tension finally spills out. he will take care of you, he will always look out for you because you are his most adored and precious doll, his favorite thing to hold and ruin.
a few minutes later, after he’s helped clean you up with a towel from one of the cabinets he keeps just for these getaways. you zip your pants back up, still feeling the lingering warmth between your thighs. you just hope your panties are enough to keep things from showing through. shit… you should’ve worn the black jeans.
“i only came here to give you mine and jeongin’s project, not to get creampied.”
“baby, you know you don’t have to do anything,” he says, spinning lazily in his chair. one hand clicks the mouse as he scrolls through whatever just came into his email. “you’re my favorite student, you pass without lifting a finger. your friend, on the other hand… needs to learn how to use photoshop.”
“yeah, but…”
“but what?” he glances up at you from the computer, that same knowing look settling back in. “you missed me?”
ah, your eyes betray you again. you missed him, no matter how much your ego tries to argue otherwise. after what happened at the hotel two months ago… yeah, that was all it took for both of you to realize you can’t stay away from each other. and maybe you’ll regret it one day, but not now. you’ve already decided to keep it hidden from karina and yeji. as for jaemin… yeah, he’s nice. he’s always been, but that’s all he is now, nice. you made sure you stayed friends, nothing more, and nothing less.
so you leave yunho’s office, of course not before kissing him goodbye, not that it matters much when he’ll be at your place later anyway. “don’t forget we’re watching spiderman~” like you could forget, you know the entire plot by heart at this point.
you’re wearing a sweater that’s way too big for you, one you casually told your friends you found at a thrift store. sure, if that store was called yunho’s apartment. thankfully, no one suspects a thing, not even your two best friends, because if they did… it would be over, and you’re not ready to lose them, but the heart wants what it wants.
later, you meet jeongin at the campus café, sitting across from him like you didn’t just leave your professor’s office in a completely different state than you entered it.
“innie, thank you for ordering for me too.” you smile, taking a sip of your drink, looking… brighter than usual, too happy for someone with a four-hour gap between classes.
“yeah, no problem,” he says, watching you for a second longer than usual. “also, are you… okay? i don’t know, you just seem different lately after things ended with jaemin.”
you blink, caught off guard. “huh, am i?” a small shrug follows. “i don’t know… i guess i just decided to focus on myself for a while, not on men.”
“well… whatever it is, it suits you,” he mutters, still a little unsure. “oh– by the way, what did professor jeong say about the project?”
“he said we’ve got max points secured,” you shrug lightly. “and that you’ve improved your photoshop skills.”
“really?” jeongin perks up, grinning. “well, don’t mind me if i skip next week then.”
the first part is true, the second isn’t. you can lie to everyone else, but not to yunho. it’s harmless. not everyone needs to know everything about you, not even the people closest to you. so here you are back with your toxic ex, because being stuck on a feeling means being stuck on him. if anyone found out, they’d probably kill him first… and then you.
he knows exactly what you risk every time you come back to him. this was never a temporary game, something that could end just because you decided it should. to him, it’s an inevitable cycle. he doesn’t see himself as someone you return to; in his mind, you never truly left in the first place.
he would give you everything without hesitation. tear the world apart for you, piece by piece, if that’s what it takes to keep you where he wants. but he would ruin you just as easily, because to him, being broken by his hands is still better than letting anyone else touch what he was already his.
yunho is a monster creeping in your heart. a wolf in sheep’s clothing, the kind of character no one expects to be the villain. he isn’t some bad habit; he is an addiction with no cure, letting him consume you, until there’s barely a line left between where you end and he begins. you chose to stay, considering no one plays the role better than you do. this version of yourself that looks put together, untouchable, and guarded… while slowly giving everything away to the one person who knows exactly how to take it.
you didn’t fall for a good man — you fell for the one who learned how to look like one. you keep calling it love, even when it’s nowhere close, because you can’t tell the difference anymore. and if this is what love is supposed to feel like… you don’t want to be saved from it.
thank you phoebe ( @tinyfixon ) for doing a beta read and being an amazing editor! i love you so much and i hope mingi is going to propose to you soon <3
𝐚/𝐧: sans was giving me cuteness aggression and i wrote it 😭😭 this is part two to the series i hope you enjoy!!
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: your boyfriend went out with his team members. After having a couple drinks, they start taking shots and he drunk text you asking if you can pick him up.
【Summary】: You were princess made to be moulded and placed on a pedestal. While Yunho was the tool to make it all burn to the ground in the best way possible.
『Word count』: 3.48k
-> Genre: Smut. Angst. Some fluff at the end.
[Warnings]: Swearing, Mafia Lifestyle. Cheating (don't do this but in this case, it was a good choice) making out, unprotected sex (big no-no) rough sex. Size kink in all areas. Yunho is 6'0, beefy and just a very big boy. Shitty Husband. The reader gets objectified by gross men. Reader cries. Pure filth. Dirty talk. Pet names. Oral (reader receiving) mentions of killing someone. Getting caught. Creampie. Yunho has a big dick and big dick energy. Yunho has a bit of an obsession with the reader. Mingi and Hongjoong are mentioned.
Note: This fic has been re-written and updated severely since its first upload. So if it is a little similar but still different thats whyyy heheh.
Through a life that was not of your choosing, you recognized from the very first moment you encountered your husband. He resembled a pig in human guise. His gaze would fixate on your figure rather than meeting your eyes. His words were tainted with lust and egotism, rather than interests or charm. Upon your initial meeting, he presented himself as your future spouse. And you being the sole heir and daughter of one of the most prominent mafia families, it brought many advantages, yet… it predominantly led to misfortune. Your father cautioned you against falling in love. Rather you were to prioritize to your family above all else. Ensure their success. Ensure the growth or power and money.
Be wed to another higher ranking mob lord in order to maintain, peace, status, and wealth.
This is how you found yourself in your current situation. Standing in a grand ballroom, adorned in the most luxurious attire and holding a tall glass of the most expensive wine. Your husband—though you are not yet married, he referred to himself as such—Lucas, kept his hand resting on the small of your back, preventing you from straying too far from him. Guests moved about, engaging in polite conversation within the vast region. You simply sipped your drink, the forced smile causing your cheeks to ache with repulsion. You longed to escape his side, to be perceived as something, anything other than his voiceless wife.
The renowned Jeong Yunho faced Lucas. He did not need to utter a single word for anyone, including you, to recognize that he was the one who controlled the city. He dripped authority. Dressed in an all-black suit, he stood in stark contrast to the ballroom's simple white and gold decor and the dazzling chandelier lights. Lucas wasn't oblivious to the way Yunho drank you in as he approached the two of you for the first time this evening. He had always noticed Yunho stealing glances whenever they encountered each other at public functions. He didn't mind one bit though. Eye candy was better for business and plus his self-importance would rise every time someone would gawk at you. He knew he had won. Won the golden prize. The daughter to the most powerful person in europe… You. He cleared his throat, and Yunho reluctantly diverted his gaze from your face to regard your husband with an impassive expression.
"Babe, Mr. Jeong is our host this evening. Please be kind and bring us some additional refreshments as a gesture of gratitude," Lucas remarked, applying pressure to your back without sparing you a glance. But he never really looked at you, unless it was to perv at your form. He didn't think of you as a human being after all, you were more of a piece of meat to him. Just as you were about to excuse yourself politely, Yunho halted you by placing his hand on your arm in a small, unenthusiastic gesture that ignited a fire inside the pit of your stomach.
"Thank you. However, that will not be necessary." He snapped his fingers, and within moments, a staff member appeared before you, presenting a fresh glass of wine. He offered you a brief smile, a rarity that only emerged upon your arrival. His large hand enveloped yours, the pressure of his silver rings leaving a gentle imprint on your skin, allowing you to savor the sensation of his touch, which he seemed to reciprocate. Lucas cleared his throat, clearly feeling sidelined in the conversation, yet too oblivious to notice the lingering glances exchanged between you and Yunho. You rolled your eyes discreetly, ensuring only Yunho could see, and he responded with a playful wink before redirecting his attention to your husband.
They commenced discussing business matters, prompting you to easily tune out the tedious details of work.
This became a habit you developed after becoming engaged to a man of little substance. And now don't call yourself short for brains. You knew the business far better than most of the men in the room. In fact, you knew more than Lucas and you could —no, you would—outperform him in negotiations
Yet, he would never afford you such an opportunity. To him, you were merely an accessory, an object for him to flaunt to enhance his own appeal. You watch the conversation unfold, seeing a slight tremor in Lucas's voice, you could tell that Yunho terrified him. It was evident why; the man practically ruled Seoul City and could command a gathering of mob leaders with a mere flick of his wrist.
"It appears I have depleted my drink," you murmured, not particularly concerned if anyone heard you. but to your surprise, Yunho suddenly addressed you personally. Your eyes shot up, full of curiosity as he shot you one of his killer smiles. His voice was deep as he said your name. And oh how you loved the way it rolled off his tongue. You vaguely wondered what else he could do with it... "I hope to see you again..." His gaze held yours as he cupped your hand once again. "Maybe one day I'll show you my home in more, depth. And If you need anything at all, Mrs Kim, don't hesitate to find me."
Your lips curved, pleased at his offer. "Thank you, Mr Jeong. I certainly will."
"Please, call me Yunho."
Lucas, once again, cleared his throat, and this time you didn't even try to hide your annoyance at his neediness. He tried to smile smugly, wrapping his arm tighter around your waist to pull you into him closer for a moment as if he wanted to play the role of a dear loving husband for once. But you tugged off him quickly. God you hated the way he smelt, the cologne he wore was unfaltering and it made your nose cry in pain. Yunho's eyes narrowed at your husband's actions before shooting you one last smile making you walk off with blushed cheeks, leaving the two to their o'so important business.
A few hours passed by at a sluggish pace, and you had grown tired of the event that still strangely had life to it. Now, having your third glass of wine, you realised you were still not tipsy enough for your liking. You weren't even an avid drinker by any means, but you had built up quite the tolerance because of these parties.
You navigated through the packed room, slipping between the guests. Eventually, you reached the bar, opting not to seek out another server with a tray of drinks; instead, you decided to go directly to the source. However, what awaited you was far more than just another full glass of dark red.
"You must not be enjoying yourself," You heard a voice and turned to see Yunho approaching. His towering figure cast a shadow over you, and he held a fresh glass of wine in his large hand, offering it to you.
"What leads you to that conclusion?" you inquired, looking up at him with an eyebrow raised. You becoming suddenly aware of the height difference, a slight blush creeping onto your cheeks as he extended the drink.
"Alcohol is the only thing that gets me through events I have no interest in attending. I'm assuming it's the same for you?"
You sighed. "Don't take it personally, Mr Jeong. I've just attended one too many of these parties for them to be interesting anymore. Especially when the company I'm entertaining is also..."
Yunho smirked. "No worries, doll. I understand. I wouldn't enjoy myself either if that Scumbag's arm was around my waist, and hand was gripping that ass all night.” He paused for a moment.. “Seems like you need some better company."
You snorted, covering your hand with your mouth. You would have been disgusted by the blunt comment about your ass but when it came out of Yunho's mouth it made a tingle shiver down your spine. "He's not that bad," you said, weakly trying your very hardest to defend your husband, but one glare from Yunho had you giggling again. "Okay, he's an ass. A total ass." before you could think of another comment or snarky remark Yunho caught you off guard with yet another blunt comment.
"If you were mine, I'd be showing you off to every fucking person in this goddamn city. But not how he does, not as if you were just an object but as my wife, the person I trust most by my side. " You stifled a gasp at Yunho's words. He stared down at you seriously, dark eyes piercing yours with careful curiosity. You had no words, it was as if your fantasies were coming to pass. But how could you possibly think of such a thing when you were already betrothed to another?
"I'm not yours though.. am I… Yunho." You neatly whispered not trusting your own words.
"No," Yunho said, narrowing his eyes. "You're not mine. Yet."
"Yet?" You gulped, watching his figure lean into your own, covering your body from the crowd and any prying eyes. Your back hit the bar, making you crane your neck to see his face only mere centimetres from your own. Was he always this big?
"Tell me..." His fingertips grazed your goose-bumped skin on your arm. "Tell me you don't want to be mine. That you don't want me to shower you with my love. I would give you everything your disgusting husband could never. All you have to do is ask."
"I can't."
"Can't what?" his voice almost sounded scared, worried you might not let him in, but his heart jumps the moment he heard the next few words leave your gorgeous lips.
"I can't tell you, I don't want it. Because I do. It's all I've ever wanted since the day I met you..." That was all it took for Yunho to grab your wrist, hastily pulling you away from the bar, abandoning your drink and everything you had to go back to. He did not care about the side glanses he stole or how some of the women you passed started to whisper. All you cared about was him and what he was going to do to you. He pulled you into an empty hallway and immediately pushed you against the wall. Your heart was beating so fast as he snaked an arm around your waist, breath tickling your face as your fingers flew up to pull on his dark hair. He growled into your mouth as he clashed his lips against yours, moving his body with your own. One hand cupped your ass in the same place Lucas would put his, but it felt different. You didn't want to push away from the contact, instead, you wanted more. You moaned pathetically into his mouth, and he seemed to like it, shoving his tongue inside, dancing it across yours.
"Yunho," you said, pulling back. Your lips were already swollen, and Yunho felt his chest leap at the sight. You were perfect. "I need..." Yunho nodded, pressing open-mouthed kisses down your neck and across your collarbone, letting his hands grip at your hips tightly, pulling your body flush against his own so you could feel his erection against your stomach. Fuck, he was so much bigger than you, it made your knees weak.
"I know, Darling, I know. Not here. Come with me." He pulled you through the halls and it wasn't long before the two of you were in what you assumed to be his private sitting room. Or is it a study? You couldn't take much care of the details hearing the fireplace roar dully while seeing a blanket draped over an expensive-looking emerald couch. Yunho wasted no time in hoisting you up onto his waist, then carefully dropping you onto the velvet couch, his body slotting on top of yours. Your stomach was cluttered with emotions, your head running wild with overthinking thoughts. Lucas had never treated you with so much attention and care. Let alone any real care at all. You couldn't remember the last time anyone had kissed you like this. Then again, you remembered, you'd never been with someone else other than Lucas before this. Feeling love slipping from Yunho, it was like your first time all over again. But this time it felt right. Not some dirty transaction of body fluids. But actual love-making a husband would do to his wife... Yunho seemed to read your mind. "Never been treated like this, huh, my love?"
You shook your head weakly feeling as if you were about to cry. "N-no."
Yunho growled against your skin. "Fucking immature little boy who doesn't know how to treat a woman. Can't believe I'll be the first to ruin you completely. Not that I'm complaining. I bet that little fucking excuse for a man couldn't get you to bed properly" he said with a shit-eating grin, his tongue lapping your neck. He pulled back to look at you in your eyes. "Has anyone ever tried this sweet pussy baby?" Your eyes widened at his filthy question covering your mouth with your hand you mewled a little, No, to his reply.
Yunho smiled devilishly. "So let me get this straight. You're saying I'm gonna be the first one to taste you. Have you come on my tongue? Jesus Baby. You’re spoiling me right now." He groaned, and without warning he hooked his fingers on the hem of your pants, pulling them down as well as your panties. But not before he slowly slid off your heels giving your ankles a little kiss while doing so. You were dripping for him, some of it leaking onto the expensive couch already. He licked his lips, running a finger through you, loving everything he was witnessing.
You moaned, bucking into his touch. He slowly inserted two fingers into you before pulling them back out, then pushed it in again a little more harshly. His fingers were huge, making you wonder if you were struggling with his fingers, how would his cock feel deep inside you. He lowered his mouth to you, giving you a chance to feel his hot breath on your folds before diving in. You felt sparks fly across your skin as his mouth finally touched you. He groaned, lips moving and sucking across your clit as his tongue moved in unison with his fingers. He continued his assault until you were writhing against him, practically shoving your hips into his face for more friction. He took it all, gripping your hips with a bruising force. It wasn't long before you were coming undone, sparks flashing across your eyes as you tensed and twitched. Yunho didn't give you a second to recover before he was freeing himself from his suit pants. He was enormous, you could see his cock throbbing from where you laid. You gulped, eyes widening with worry. He is definitely not going to fit.
"It'll fit, don't worry, Darling. You might be tiny compared to me, but I'll make you're stuffed nicely," he said with a laugh when he saw your shocked expression. "Cause I'll make you fucking filled when I'm done." He stroked himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, slowly pushing the engorged head into you with an audible pop. You gasped at the sensation, your mouth forming a perfect 'o' as he shoved himself in. His eyes screwed shut in bliss when he bottomed out. His hands gripped the back of your thighs, pushing them to either side of you so he could start his thrusts slow but deep.
"So fucking tight, did your pathetic husband even fuck you? Fuck, are you crying baby? Am I that big for you?." He hoisted both of your legs over his broad shoulders, finding a new angle to pound into you from.
"God, you feel so good," You whined. "Oh shit, you're so big Yuyu..." He lost control hearing the nickname slip off your tongue, snapping his hips roughly. He was going to ruin you if it was the last thing he did.
"That's it, sweetheart. All mine, aren't you? Yeah, you're fucking mine. I was made for this pussy." Your fingers clawed his covered back, tugging at his dress suit jacket. His thrust were inhuman, becoming faster and harder each time he pushes inside of you. "Never gonna let that fucking douchebag, pathetic piece of shit ever touch you again," he panted. "I've got you now." He kissed your neck, then your jaw, before kissing you on your soft lips. “You’re mine.”
"I only want you, I'm yours," you moaned, feeling an unfamiliar white heat inside of you, coiling around your stomach. "Y-Yunho I can't I-I take... fuck, you're so big."
"You can take it, I know you can because you're my good girl, right? You want to be my good girl don't you?" You nodded against him, tightening your grip. He snarled into your neck as his hips began to snap into you with a roughness you already knew you would come to crave every day and night. "you coming, Baby?" Yunho said, feeling your tightness around him, "I need to feel you come around my cock. Please."
You didn't have to hear him twice as you came around him, moaning so loudly you thank the party was loud enough to conceal any noise. Yunho wasn't far behind, stuttering and shoving himself as deep into you as he could reach, spilling his hot white seed into you. His thrusts wore slower before finally coming to a halt. You both took a minute of catching your breath, Yunho moved off you, watching himself slip out of you before his cum began to leak out after.
He picked your underwear off the floor before shoving them in his pocket with a smirk. He then pulled your pants back up your legs, readjusting your heels and smoothing your hair, whispering just how well you did for him. He made sure you were presentable, even though you looked beautiful at any moment, especially when you were freshly fucked out on his cock. But that was a visual just saved for him. You felt a blush creep up your cheek you wanted to speak, but it didn't last as the doors to the room burst open, making you jump up in fright.
Lucas stood there, his fists clenched at his sides. "What the fuck is going on here?" He snarled, stalking over to you. Before he could get too close, Yunho stood. He absolutely towered above Lucas, coming in between you and him.
"I'd watch yourself if I were you, Mr Kim," he spoke. His voice was deadly calm and his expression showed nothing.
"You just fucked my wife you bastard." he spat straight in Yunho's face making him suddenly see red.
"Remember who you're speaking to." Yunho got straight into Lucas's space, his deep voice growling lowly.
Lucas audibly gulped quickly giving up, but he peered around Yunho and glared at you. "Fine. Come on, we're going home. damn slut," he said backing away from the larger male but Yunho lunged forward, grabbing Lucas by the collar and lifting him off the floor with ease.
"You don't get to fucking speak to her like that," he growled. "She's not your wife. And I vow that you'll be begging for death once I'm done with you." Yunho threw Lucas onto the floor and he scrambled backwards, staring up at the mob boss with clear terror in his eyes. Yunho turned around, kneeling beside you and pulling your hands into his large ones. "Come with me, Darling. Let's get back to the party shall we." You nodded, tucking yourself into his side as he guided you out of the room, and back towards the main hall.
"So, you were really serious about me being yours huh?" You said, gazing up at Yunho curiously, not even worrying about how two very scaring-looking men that Yunho called Mingi and Hongjoong entered the room that you left Lucas in.
"Damn right," he replied, pressing a kiss to your forehead. "I gotcha now, My love. And I ain't letting go."
𝐚/𝐧: thank you so much for the love on my last post. I hope you enjoy this oneee. maknae line will be the next post!
𝐬𝐲𝐧𝐨𝐩𝐬𝐢𝐬: your boyfriend went out with his team members. After having a couple drinks, they start taking shots and he drunk text you asking if you can pick him up.
choi san. your hopelessly obsessed boyfriend. you ask one innocent question about what he does when you’re not around and immediately regret it .. or do you?
a/n : hi guys! after almost a year away, i figured my comeback should be the successor to my fic 'keep talking'. thank you for 800+ followers. i love yall
You’re wrapped around your boyfriend like a koala, half in his lap, half sprawled across his chest when the thought suddenly hits you.
You pull back, narrow your eyes, tilt your head all suspicious:
“Wait… when I’m not here… do you, like… get yourself off?”
San freezes mid–back rub.
“…Huh?”
“Answer. The question.”
Your eyes squint even harder.
He sighs, looks away, rubs the bridge of his nose.
“Baby, why would you ask me something like—”
“Cause I wanna know!”
He stares at you… then gives up.
“I watch our tapes.”
“Huh?”
“Our sex tapes.”
“San—”
“And I look at your Instagram pictures.”
“San.”
“And sometimes I screenshot your bikini photos before you delete them.”
“San???”
“And sometimes I use the ones where you’re adjusting your top because you always look flustered and—”
“Stop—”
He keeps going, dead serious, like he’s reading a grocery list:
“And that one video where you’re laughing and your boobs bounce a little? Yeah. That one goes crazy. Top-tier.”
“What????”
“And those mirror selfies where your hair is messy. And the ones where you’re not even trying. Those are the worst.”
He shifts under you, already getting hard just thinking about it.
You smack his chest.
“You’re SICK.”
He shrugs.
“I’m in love.”
You slap him harder.
“You’re DEPRAVED.”
Another shrug.
“You’re SEXY.”
You bury your face in your hands, dying.
He gently pulls them away, lowering his voice:
“You asked, baby. You really think I jerk off to random women? No. Everything I do, I do to you.”
He leans in, kissing your cheek, jaw, neck.
“And if you want… I can show you exactly how I do it.”
You slide off his lap just a little, sitting between his knees, eyes wide and way too curious for his sanity.
“…Show me, then.”
San blinks once. Twice.
His Adam’s apple jumps.
“…Yeah?” he asks, voice already dropping into that low, dangerous tone.
You nod.
He drags a hand down his face like he knows he’s about to ruin you with this demonstration alone.
“Okay,” he mutters, leaning back into the couch, legs spreading a little, “but don’t— don’t laugh. I’m serious.”
You bite your lip.
He sees it. He groans.
Then he slips a hand under the waistband of his sweats, pulls himself out, already half-hard from the conversation alone. His breaths get shaky, on purpose, because he knows you’re watching.
“Normally…” he starts, eyes flicking to yours, “…I start slow. Just— thinking about you walking around the house, tiny little outfit, pretending you’re not teasing me.”
His thumb glides over the tip spreading the precum, — and he sighs, deep, breathy, borderline whimpering.
You swallow so hard he hears it.
“And then,” he continues, pumping slowly, “I think about how you look when you ride me… all loud and needy…”
You shift on your knees.
He definitely notices.
His lashes flutter, and he lets out a soft, broken “mmh—fuck…”
You scoot closer.
He moans again, high, pretty, shameless, because he’s absolutely doing this on purpose now.
“You like watching me, baby?” he breathes out, jaw clenching, hips lifting into his own hand. “Yeah… you do…”
You nod, dazed.
He groans, throwing his head back for a second, biting his lip dramatically, exaggerating it because he knows it gets you.
Then he looks at you through heavy lids.
“You always make me this hard,” he whispers, voice cracking just a little. “Even when you’re not here.”
Your thighs press together.
He smirks, then lets out another deliberate whimper, soft and choked, like he knows it shoots straight into your bloodstream.
“Come here,” he murmurs, hand stroking himself faster. “If you’re gonna watch… watch up close.”
You crawl into his lap.
He pulls your hand to his stomach—
so warm, tense, shaking, and keeps moaning softly, messy and pretty, just for you.
He’s doing all of this on purpose.
You lean in so close he can feel your breath on his throat, eyes glued to every movement of his hand, every twitch of his stomach, every shaky inhale he lets slip.
And San loses his mind over it.
“Jesus…” he whispers, voice cracking when he looks down and sees your face—eyes blown wide, lips parted, studying him like he’s something you want to taste. “You’re really watching me like this…?”
You nod slowly. His chest stutters.
He bites his lip so hard a muscle in his jaw jumps.
“That’s— fuck— this is the hottest thing you’ve ever done,” he mutters, voice warm and breathless. He spreads his legs wider, giving you a better view, pumping his hand a little harder… slower… letting you see everything. “You’re looking at me like you wanna eat me alive.”
“San,” you breathe.
His eyes darken instantly.
“Oh my god…” he laughs under his breath, ruined already, “you’re obsessed with me.”
Your face heats.
He cups your chin with his free hand, forcing you to hold eye contact while the other keeps stroking, wet and filthy and slow enough to make your stomach twist.
“You like how I do it?” he whispers.
You nod. His smile is evil.
“You like seeing what I do when you’re not home?”
Another nod.
His grip tightens. His thighs flex under you.
“Y’know what I think about?” he murmurs, leaning closer until your noses almost touch. “You. On your knees. Mouth open. Eyes like that. Waiting for me.”
Your breath catches.
He groans.
“Keep watching,” he says, voice low and trembly. “Don’t look away. Not once.”
You don’t.
Your eyes track the movement of his hand, the veins on his forearm, the way his stomach tightens every time he pumps upward. He notices. He feels your stare. It makes him moan again—soft, involuntary, almost shy.
You whisper, barely audible:
“…You look so hot.”
He chokes on a breath. His hips jerk.
And his voice drops even lower, wrecked and proud and starving:
“Say that again.”
You whisper it again, slower. “So fucking hot.”
You slide closer—slow, curious, innocent in that way that makes his whole body seize up—and tilt your head.
“Can I help…?”
His hand falters on himself, eyes snapping to yours like you just offered him the cure to every problem he’s ever had.
“…yeah,” he whispers, voice already breaking, “yeah—baby, c’mere.”
Your smaller hand slips under his, replaces his stroke.
The second your skin touches him he whimpers—a real one, sharp and desperate, right against your neck.
“Oh—fuck—”
His head drops to your shoulder.
He’s trembling.
He grabs your wrist gently, guiding your rhythm, but you’re already doing it exactly how he likes—soft at the base, tight at the top, twisting up just a little—
“Baby,” he gasps, breath hitting your collarbone, “you’re—fuck—you’re so good at this—”
His hips buck into your palm.
His hand is gripping your thigh, hard enough to bruise.
You look up at him through your lashes and his knees actually shake.
“That’s it,” you whisper, teasing, “you like when I do it?”
He moans.
A pretty, broken, breathy sound right into your ear.
“I love—when you—help me—god—fuuuck”
He’s collapsing, chest heaving, face flushed, thighs tense beneath you.
The wet slick sound of your hand working him faster fills the room and he completely loses the last bit of control he had.
“Y/N—baby—oh my god I’m gonna cum—”
You tighten your grip, stroke him exactly how he likes—
His whole body jerks—
He lets out the most ruined groan you’ve ever heard—
And he finishes right into your hand, warm and messy and so much more than you expected.
He collapses into you, panting into your shoulder, completely melted.
Your sticky hand is still resting on him when he finally breathes again.
“…you’re gonna kill me,” he whispers, voice wrecked, trembling all over. “You’re actually gonna kill me.”
You hold your hand up— dripping.Absolutely covered in him. A warm, glossy mess.
Your eyes go wide on purpose.
“…San.”
He looks up from your shoulder, dazed, hair a mess, breaths still shaking.
And you wiggle your fingers.
“Look at this! You're. SO. Desperate.”
His whole face flushes scarlet.
“Baby—” he groans, grabbing your wrist to hide the evidence, “don’t… don’t say it like that…”
But you lean back, smirking like the menace you are.
“You made a huge mess. This is—San, this is ridiculous. You couldn’t even hold it for a second??”
He hides his face in your neck, mortified, whining like a grown man being scolded.
“You can’t tease me after what you just did to me,” he mumbles, voice muffled against your skin, “I warned you—I told you I was close—you kept going—baby, you know what you were doing—”
“No,” you say, faking innocence, showing your sticky palm again, “you’re nasty. Nasty. Look at this.”
He pulls your wrist down, panicked.
“Stop showing it to me!”
His voice cracks. “I know what I did!”
You laugh so hard he swats your thigh lightly, embarrassed, still breathless.
Then he looks up at you—eyes heavy, lips parted, totally ruined—and mutters:
“…clean your hand before you start teasing me again or I swear I’ll make an even bigger mess.”
OH.
You grab a warm towel and clean him up gently, slow little wipes that make him flinch because he’s still sensitive.
You purposely kiss the tip softly just to watch him jolt.
“Y/N—!”
You kiss it again..
He slaps a hand over his face.
“Stop… you’re gonna kill me…”
You hop off the bed, still glowing, still smug, and go to the mirror.
You clean yourself up too—wiping your mouth, fixing your hair—
But then curiosity hits.
You look at your fingers.
You look at him in the reflection.
You drag your tongue over them.
Slow.
Purposeful.
San’s jaw drops.
“…that tastes kinda good.
Somebody changed their diet. Good boy.”
His ears turn red.
“Why would you DO that?!”
You shrug in the mirror, wiping your lips.
“I was curious.”
“That’s not— you can’t just— you—”
He’s literally malfunctioning.
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