* yunho x afab fem reader
* organized crime
* light dom/sub, possessive!yunho
* spanking, subspace, subdrop
* cw: controlling behavior, minor stalking
summary: feeling lonely and extremely single after a friend’s wedding, you stop by a bar on your way home that you’ve never visited before. the handsome bartender takes an interest in you, and you’re interested right back. very interested, in fact. a dance turns into something more, and before you know what’s happening, you’re in deep over your head - and you really, really like it.
⟢⟢ ao3 link ⟢⟢
part one below || part two || part three || part four
You're still not sure how you ended up here tonight. Well, that isn't strictly true; your feet carried you from the nearby ballroom where the wedding reception was held, straight past the establishment on your walk home through the crisp autumn night. Far from crowded and dimly lit, soft music playing over the speakers from a long bygone era, something about the bar’s atmosphere soothes your frayed nerves.
As to why you ended up here tonight, that was easy.
You'd suffered through watching the newlyweds’ first dance, then everyone else filling the floor in couples while you waited at the sidelines. You could only kill so much time tending to the flower arrangements purchased from your employer before you were simply wandering the edges of the room. Unable to take the embarrassment any longer, you gave your regrets to the maid of honor, mumbling something about an early morning at the shop. Somehow managing to sneak out without being stopped by anyone, it only confirmed that you were every bit as invisible as you felt.
You've seen the place dozens of times, located just outside your neighborhood, but never been inside. The blue neon marquee simply reads “Bar,” the other letters having been burned out as long as you can remember. Mistaking it for a dive, you realize just how wrong you've been all this time.
Warm lighting reveals a classic art nouveau decor, a bit worn from age, with a polished wooden counter taking up fully half of one wall. A large space opens out just beyond, hosting a cluster of dancers moving slowly to Ella Fitzgerald in pairs. You're glad to be fresh from the wedding, your fitted maroon button down and ruffled black skirt looking stylish without being formal.
Heading for the counter, you find an open stool and sit down, waiting for one of the bartenders to notice you. You know that isn't the best strategy if you want a drink any time this century, but you can't bring yourself to bother them with your request. Pathologically shy on a good day, there was a reason you never ended up in bars looking for company. Hell, you're not even here tonight looking for a hook-up, just a drink without being made to feel pathetic before returning home to your empty apartment. Plenty of single people ended up in bars to drown their sorrows, you tell yourself. You won't exactly be out of place.
To your surprise, one of the two bartenders actually does take notice, stopping in front you as he wipes his hands on a damp towel. He's devastatingly handsome, dressed in a fitted gray vest and white shirt with the sleeves rolled halfway up his forearms. You realize after a moment of staring that he's asked what he can get you, and you stammer out your order.
You decide on a Manhattan cocktail, the atmosphere in the bar having you feeling a bit fancy. It should pack a punch without getting you drunk and prone to making any poor decisions – like hitting on the bartender. He mixes it up in front of you with a flourish, blending the whiskey and vermouth in a shaker before straining it into a chilled martini glass and adding the bitters. Garnishing it with two dark cherries on a tiny plastic skewer, he slides it toward you on a napkin.
It’s impossible not to notice the size of his hands, the muscles in his forearms extremely distracting. A tattoo adorns the inside of one wrist in bold black lines, a pair of horns in the sign for Aries with the symbol of a spade worked in above it. You hand him your card before you can get too caught up in the display before you, and he takes it with a slight smirk before running it through the register. He definitely noticed you checking him out, but you figure he has to be used to it.
To your surprise, he wanders back over in your direction as you sip the drink, easily the best one you've ever had. People come and go, ordering scotch and gin and vodka tonics, keeping it classic. The clientele ranges in age from slightly younger than you to over fifty, many of them couples, and the bartender seems to know a good many of them by name.
“Can I get you another one…?” he trails off, and you realize he's waiting to see if you'll volunteer your name.
He has to have seen it on the card, but it's awfully charming to be asked. You surprise yourself by giving it to him, then shake your head at the offer of another drink.
“On the house for a first-timer,” he says with a far-too-charming smile, but you decline again.
“Don't want to be tipsy walking home,” you say, wondering if you already are to be making conversation with someone so handsome.
He's exactly your type, dark hair grown out just long enough to fall across his pretty brown eyes. He frowns a bit at your statement, and you wonder if you've somehow offended him by turning down the drink.
“You sure you should be walking home alone this late?” he asks, and you bristle for a moment. The implication is clear; it just wasn't safe for a woman to walk home unescorted. “Unless you're here with someone,” he adds, and you wonder if that's his way of asking if you're single.
Yeah, you’re definitely tipsy.
“I'll be fine,” you protest a bit hotly. “I know the neighborhood.”
“So do I,” he says with concern. “Tell you what, why don't you let me call you a rideshare.”
“Really, I'll be fine,” you say, just as an older man in a smoking jacket leans against the bar next to you.
“Did I hear you say you're here by yourself tonight, little lady?” he asks, the stink of bourbon on his breath.
“Leo,” the bartender says with gentle disapproval.
“I've had a really long day,” you say honestly. “So…”
“Need some help relaxing?” he asks with a leer, leaning in closer.
You wince, leaning back as his cologne assaults your senses and your glasses fog up at the edges.
“Stop, right now,” the bartender says, his tone firm.
“Oh, come on, Yunho,” the man complains. “Can't a guy have a little fun?”
“You've had enough fun for one night,” the bartender – Yunho, you suppose – admonishes. “Don't you think it's time you went home to your wife?”
Leo waves him off with a litany of curses, but pushes away from the bar and heads for the exit.
“Thank you,” you say, your voice heavy with relief.
“Leo's a good egg, really,” Yunho says with a shrug. “But that doesn't mean he gets to harass one of my patrons.”
You smile, looking down at the polished wood grain.
“Want to tell me about that long day?” he asks, mixing up a drink for a man beside you.
“Nothing like a wedding to remind you of how alone you are,” you say wryly, surprising yourself at the admission. “Sorry, that sounds pretty pathetic, doesn't it?”
“I'm a bartender,” he says. “That's nowhere near the most pathetic thing I've heard tonight.”
You laugh despite yourself, and he smiles, drying off a glass. “Okay, now you have to tell me the most pathetic thing you've heard.”
“That's a little like kissing and telling, isn’t it?” he says, one corner of his mouth turning up in a sly grin.
“Do you make a habit of kissing your patrons?” you ask before you can think better of it.
“Only the really pretty ones,” Yunho says with a wink, walking off to take another order.
You can feel your cheeks heat without really knowing why; after all, it wasn't as though he meant you with that statement. You toy absently with the little plastic sword in your glass, one cherry remaining on its length. You can tell they’ve been soaked in brandy, and while delicious, you're not sure you want another one.
Before you know it, Yunho is back at your end of the counter, taking orders from two new people who have worked their way over. Once he's mixed their martinis in a decidedly showy manner, he leans back on the bar in front of you.
“You've still got one cherry left,” he observes, resting his chin on his hand.
“Oh,” you say, about to explain your reason when he lifts up the sword and holds it out to you.
You reach for the skewer and he pulls it back, shaking his head before holding it out again, one hand below it to catch any drips. This time you catch his meaning, and without knowing why you lean forward. Taking the sword into your mouth, you suck the cherry from its plastic length and crush it between your teeth, feeling the sweet, fiery rush of liquor on your tongue.
“That's a good girl,” Yunho says, slowly pulling the sword back out and dropping it in your glass.
You freeze, his words striking a bell somewhere deep in the recesses of your mind. Good girl. No one's praised you like that since childhood, and you're surprised to discover that you like it. A lot.
Glancing up, you catch Yunho carefully gauging your response. A sly smile spreads across his features, as if gratified at being proved right. Feeling almost hypnotized, you can't look away.
The moment breaks when a feminine voice calls out “Excuse me,” from somewhere down the line. Yunho glances in her direction, seeming to notice for the first time that his partner is nowhere to be found. Making a noise of annoyance, he taps the wood in front of you twice with his knuckles and heads toward the request.
“Damn,” a soft voice from beside you says. “That was hot. You know him?”
You shake your head, still a bit dazed. Some part of you definitely wishes you did know him, or might get the chance to.
“I would literally pay to see that again,” the man continues, someone next to him aiming an elbow to his ribs.
“Ouch,” he grumbles. “Just saying. Wooyoung, by the way.”
You give your name in return, and Wooyoung nods, as if in approval.
“Haven't seen you here before,” he says, his tone casual where it easily could have been suggestive.
“I haven't been,” you say. “Was just on my way home and decided I could use a drink.”
“Yeah, uh, us too,” Wooyoung says, pointing with his thumb at the man beside him, who gives a brief wave. “Yunho's an – interesting guy, just for the record,” he adds, glancing down at the pink concoction in front of him.
“Talking about me, Wooyo?” Yunho asks, reappearing in front of you with a glass of ice water. “Only good things, I hope.”
“When have I ever maligned you?” Wooyoung asked, a faux innocence in his tone.
“I can think of a few times,” Yunho says with a slight frown. “Like that time you thought I was hitting on San.”
“To be fair, I thought you were too,” the other man says.
Yunho extends his arms out to either side. “I'm just a friendly guy,” he protests. “Kind of a job requirement.”
Wooyoung snorts. Yunho's outstretched arm smacks into his coworker, having returned without you noticing, and he grouses at being smacked.
“Are you trying to put me out of a job?” he asks. “I can't tend bar with only one arm.”
“You'll manage,” Yunho says, rolling his eyes.
“Seriously, I'm wounded here,” he says, clutching his bicep.
“Oh knock it off, Sangie,” Yeosang says while Wooyoung chuckles beside you. “I know you. You're not that much of a weakling.”
You can't help but smile at their antics, obviously long time friends.
“You about ready to get off?” Wooyoung asks.
You try to contain your amused, if childish, reaction at his phrasing, but fail miserably. You can tell Yunho notices from the way his lips curve up at one side of his mouth.
“I dunno,” Yunho says. “Was thinking of staying a little later. Helping Sangie out,” he adds, giving Wooyoung a somehow significant look.
“You sure about that?” San asks. “Thought you might have somewhere important to be.”
Yunho spares a quick glance in your direction, clearly trying for subtlety. “You heard me,” he says. “Kinda busy.”
“Not sure that's going to go over so well at the, er, staff meeting,” San continues.
“Mother can do without me for once,” Yunho says, his tone stern.
It doesn't take much to realize they're talking about something else entirely, and you wonder what exactly you've stumbled into. What did his mother have to do with anything?
“I should probably get going,” you say awkwardly. “If I could just get my card back…?”
“I think you should stay,” Yunho says in a decisive tone, surprising you and apparently Wooyoung as well, from his quiet noise of disbelief.
“I'll get that rideshare if you really want,” you say, wondering if that's the reason behind his response.
Yunho says your name with a slightly disappointed note in his voice. “I thought you were going to be good for me?”
Something paralyzes you where you sit, a tiny rush of butterfly wings in your stomach. Seeing your hesitation, Yunho gives you a nod, as if it's already decided. You swallow hard and stay put, something in your mind screaming that you're already in over your head.
It's the possibility of hearing his praise again, you realize. It should seem pathetic but somehow feels right in a way nothing has in years.
“Yeah, okay,” Wooyoung says slowly. “We'll just give the boss your regrets, then.”
There's a hint of a warning in his tone, and you wonder if maybe you should push the issue of leaving. You stay quiet instead as Wooyoung and San rise from their seats, Wooyoung throwing back the rest of his cocktail before setting the glass gently on the counter. They don't wait for Yunho to close out their tab, or ask for a card back, which briefly strikes you as odd before you feel Yunho's gaze on you again.
“I'm glad you decided to stay,” he says.
“I hope I'm not getting you in any trouble with your boss,” you say, deciding it's useless to keep pretending that this isn't about you. Surprising, shocking even that Yunho would take a genuine interest in you, but seemingly true all the same.
Yunho laughs. “Don't worry about it,” he says. “He won’t fire me, he needs me too much.”
“If you're sure,” you say, your words trailing off as you try to reconcile the masculine pronoun with Yunho’s earlier comment about his mother.
“I'm sure,” he says, setting down the glass he’s been polishing for the last several minutes. Glancing around at the patrons, most with drinks in their hands, he gives a nod of satisfaction. Your heart drops a little when Yunho walks off without a word, but then you realize he’s coming around the end of the bar to stand beside you.
“Dance with me,” he says, extending a hand. Despite the lightness in his tone, it doesn't sound like a request.
“Oh, I'm a terrible dancer,” you protest.
Yunho frowns. “I doubt that,” he says.
“No really,” you continue. “I'll just step on your feet.”
“I've survived worse,” Yunho says with the hint of a smile. “Come on, dance with me.”
* yunho x afab fem reader
* organized crime
* dom/sub, possessive!yunho
* light bdsm, subspace, subdrop
* spanking, temperature play, restraints
* cw: controlling behavior, minor stalking
summary: feeling lonely and extremely single after a friend’s wedding, you stop by a bar on your way home that you’ve never visited before. the handsome bartender takes an interest in you, and you’re interested right back. very interested, in fact. a dance turns into something more, and before you know what’s happening, you’re in deep over your head - and you really, really like it.
⟢⟢ ao3 link ⟢⟢
part one || part two || part three || part four
tagging: @rhea-sylvia, @yuuhwa
You wake to early morning light just barely filtering through the curtains, Yunho's presence against you gone. Rolling over, you find the bed empty beside you, the sheets cold. Panic fills your chest as you sit up, your eyes searching the room. They land on the bedside table where a glass of water sits beside a piece of paper. Lifting it up, you scan the handwritten lines.
I'm so sorry I had to leave, it reads. I got a call I couldn't ignore. Please treat this as your home for however long you want to stay. Hope to see you again soon. Xx, Yunho
You smile down at the letter, trading it for the glass of water. It was so much better than a rushed text, or worse yet, nothing at all. Checking the time, you know you have long enough before your shift at work to take a shower and dress. You wish you had a change of clothes but it would have been laughable to bring a bag like that into a nice restaurant, not to mention making a bold assumption.
You linger a bit in the shower, enjoying using his lightly scented soap. It's woodsy with an earthy base, more masculine than you'd ever pick out for yourself, but you find you like it. You can't help but rummage through his clothes, finding a hoodie too large for you that you put on anyway over your dress. It smells like him, and you can't help but snuggle into it, just a little. You still have to contend with heels, Yunho's feet far too large to steal a pair of sneakers, but you decide the cab driver can think whatever they want.
Walking out from the bedroom, phone in hand to request an Uber, you stop dead in your tracks. There's a man perched on a stool in the kitchen across the large open living space, tossing a small knife up into the air and catching it. He's wearing a black tracksuit, much less formal than the last time you saw him, with a steaming mug of coffee before him on the island.
“Wooyoung,” you greet him with a slight edge to your voice. “Nice to see you again.”
He catches the knife and tucks it into his jacket pocket. Looking you up and down, he gives you a nod. “Same,” he says. “Really, I mean that. You seem like a nice girl.”
“But you're here to warn me away,” you fill in, moving past him to where the coffee pot has just finished percolating.
Making an educated guess, you open the cabinet above it and pull out a mug. Each one is different, some with the names of different cities and a few with silly quotes on the side. You strategically pick one with an illustration of a deer standing beneath a maple tree, and fill it up before finding some plain creamer in the fridge. You've played more than a few rounds of Hwatu yourself, and you know a high point card when you see one.
Wooyoung frowns at your choice of mug. “I just want to make sure you know what you're getting yourself into,” he says. “Since I doubt Yunho told you anything.”
You tap the necklace at your throat. “Spada,” you say, bluffing for all you're worth. You've been playing cards with your family since you could hold a hand, and not unlike Yunho's family, they played penny poker for blood.
Wooyoung looks surprised. “He told you,” he says warily.
“Not exactly,” you allow. “But I'm also not an idiot.”
“Pretty and smart,” Wooyoung says with a smile. “Listen, Yunho's like family to me —”
“And you don't want me to hurt him by being naïve,” you finish. “I won't.”
Wooyoung nods slowly, taking a sip of his coffee. You notice he takes it black and after a scalding sip of your own you realize the coffee is probably good enough for that. You refuse to wince at the heat, knowing this is more than just a friendly visit. It's an audition.
“It's just,” Wooyoung says contemplatively. “He doesn't bring people home. This is more than a fling to him.”
You point at the necklace again. “I assume he doesn't go around just handing these out, either,” you say, bluffing again. Your hope you're right.
“Fair,” Wooyoung acknowledges. “He had a hell of a time convincing a jeweler to make it so fast.”
“I'm not here to take advantage of him,” you say, glancing around at the nicely appointed kitchen with dust on the copper-bottomed pots hanging from a rack. “Though it seems as though he could use someone to take care of him, even if it's only a little.”
Wooyoung snorts. “Isn't that the truth.”
“We all can, you know,” you say gently. “I know you’re just worried about him. He's family, after all. But I've never met anyone like Yunho, and you're not going to convince me to break things off for his own good. Or mine.”
Wooyoung's mouth curves up in a genuine smile. “That's what I wanted to hear,” he says, setting down his mostly empty mug. “Can I give you a ride somewhere?”
You look down at the floor with a smile. Like hell you're telling him where you live, and you can't exactly show up at work dressed like this. “I'll manage,” you say. “Need to finish my coffee, after all.”
He nods slowly, still smiling. “All right,” he says, tapping his fingers on the counter. “I'll probably see you around, then.”
“I hope so,” you say, more or less truthfully. He seems like a good enough guy, really.
Waving a hand airily behind him, he rounds the corner to the hallway and you hear the door shut. Following to lock it, you hear a quiet sound of satisfaction from the other side, then nothing. Finishing your coffee, you pour a second cup while you wait and request the rideshare. Hesitating for only a moment, you wash out both mugs and leave them in the drainboard to dry. You have no real interest in covering up the fact that Wooyoung was here, after all, and he'd helpfully used a mug with a large stylized W on the side. That alone would tell you he's a frequent visitor, even if he hadn't had a key to let himself in.
You meant what you said; you won't be scared away from this. It meant far too much already.
The next few weeks are a whirlwind of dinners out, films, even a concert from a local rock band you'd never heard of, but keep listening to now that you have. You get to know San and Wooyoung better, charmed by the obvious depth of their love for one another. Yeosang sometimes tags along to concerts, and through him you meet Jongho, their logistics man. He's reserved but somehow kinder than you expected. Yunho introduces you to Mingi, who you figure out eventually is in charge of their supply of weapons. He makes you nervous at first, seemingly determined from the beginning not to like you, but giving in eventually. He becomes the one that joins you for dinner sometimes, who recommends films and hypes you up to come with him to their premieres. You realize he's just a big kid who never had the chance to truly be one, and try to encourage that side of him. It doesn't go unnoticed, and he's the first to wrap you up in a firm, genuine hug.
Meeting Seonghwa is an experience, to say the least. With him is Hongjoong, the point man, someone you would never have known existed if Wooyoung hadn't mentioned him once. Apparently he cultivated anonymity, and you did your best to preserve it, never bringing him up again.
Seonghwa gives you a blistering third-degree over a formal dinner at the apartment over the bar. It's beautifully decorated and secure as Fort Knox, which you suppose simply comes with the territory. Once he's satisfied with you, however, Seonghwa welcomes you into the fold and you begin to understand why the boys call him Mother. He tends to them, takes care of them, all while keeping everyone in line. It can't be an easy job, coordinating a crew like this one, and by the time the night is over he's won your respect as well.
Your evenings with Yunho are frequent, but don't always end in play or even sex, one or both of you admitting to being too tired on occasion. Yunho is fun to be with, his personality outside the bedroom playful and teasing, seeming to take delight in acting his young age. You were deeply attached from the very beginning, but your feelings quickly develop into more as you spend time together, with no sign of slowing down.
There are words you want to say but don't dare, despite knowing full well you're more than just a fling to him. It feels as though it might be too soon, so you hold your tongue, ironically afraid of scaring him away. You've never felt the way you feel for Yunho, not once in your life, and you don't want to have to let it go because of a foolish slip of the tongue. Soon, you tell yourself. I'll say it soon. Just not tonight.
A quiet noise wakes you past midnight where you’ve fallen asleep in front of the television, now gone dark. You think for a moment that it was only in your dream before it comes again, a slight knock at the door, followed by your name called out in question. You know the voice, and it has you off the couch in seconds.
Unlocking the security chains he insisted you install, you pull open the door, only to see Yunho curled in on himself, soaked from the rain in a very nice, if hopelessly wrinkled suit. You slide back the locks and reach for him, confused, and it’s then that another pertinent detail registers. His shirt and cuffs are stained with blood.
“Yunho,” you cry out, and he shushes you. “Are you hurt? Should I take you to the hospital?”
He looks confused for a moment, then glances down. “It’s not mine,” he says, shaking his head.
It should at least give you pause, and some part of your brain understands that as you take him by the hand and tug him inside the apartment. He slumps against the wall while you lock the door back fully behind you. Taking his face in your hands, you force him to look at you.
“What happened tonight?”
He just shakes his head. “You know I can’t tell you. It isn’t safe.”
“But coming here is?” you ask, immediately realizing it was the wrong thing today when he winces, looking away. “I’m glad you did,” you say softly. “I’m – glad you trust me enough.”
“Of course I trust you,” he says, leaning against your hand without looking up. “More than anyone.”
The admission strikes something in you hard, and you lean in, pressing a kiss to his forehead before beginning to work his jacket off his shoulders. The fabric is heavy with rainwater, and he barely lends any assistance, leaning forward against you instead. You eventually accomplish your task and hang it on the coat rack, deciding you can wipe up the puddle on the tiles in the morning.
His knees buckle, and you guide him down to the floor, sitting back against the wall. Wrapping one arm around his shoulders, you hold him close in silence. The draft coming in beneath the door is cold, and your pajamas have absorbed enough water to make you shiver.
“Can I make you some coffee?” you ask. “Or – actually, let’s get you a warm shower first. You’ll catch your death sitting here like this.”
“Trying to get me naked, I see,” he says, the hint of a smile on his lips.
“Always,” you reply.
“I don’t have any clothes,” he protests.
“Oh really?” you ask, raising an eyebrow. “So what’s that duffel bag in my closet then, hmm?”
He looks embarrassed. “Saw that, did you?”
“You didn’t have to hide it,” you say. “You were always welcome to leave whatever you wanted.”
“I didn’t want to assume,” he says, and you laugh.
“Yunho,” you chastise gently. “You’ve been assuming from the very beginning, and you’ve been right.”
“Have I?” he asks, looking up.
His face is suddenly very close in the light filtering in from the living room, and you press a kiss to his forehead. “Yes,” you say, unsure what question you might be answering, but knowing it’s true all the same. “Come on, you’ve got to be freezing.”
Unlacing his oxfords and pulling them from his feet, you help Yunho stand, guiding him deeper into the apartment. You hope he isn’t dripping blood onto the carpet, but if he is, you know how to get it out.
You've learned a few things here and there that you thought might come in handy someday.
Guiding him into your bathroom, you're glad you recently made an effort to scour it clean, though he probably won't notice. He stands unnaturally still while you unbutton his formerly white shirt, peeling it off his shoulders and tossing it in the sink. It's probably a lost cause, but that doesn't mean you aren't going to try. His sleeveless undershirt goes next, Yunho raising his arms at your urging as you tug it off over his head. It joins the shirt in the sink, and then you start to work on his pants. The wet leather of his belt doesn't want to move, and he brushes your hands away, yanking until it comes unbuckled. His pants slide off easily, and you bend to remove his socks. Those are going straight into the laundry, once you've managed to warm him up.
He still hasn't moved, and you guide him gently over to the shower. “I'm sorry I don't have a bathtub,” you say. “The shower will have to do.”
Yunho nods, letting you usher him inside. After a moment's indecision, you leave your pajamas on the floor and put your hair up in a clip before joining him, testing the spray until it's a good temperature. Turning Yunho around to catch it, you wrap your arms around him and hold him close.
“You don't have to tell me,” you say, letting the gentle spray warm his back. “But I'll listen.”
“I just – needed to see you,” Yunho says. “Needed to remind myself.”
“Of what?” you ask, stroking the back of his neck.
“That I’m human,” he says, leaning down to rest his head on your shoulder.
“Oh,” you say, the word awfully quiet to have been punched straight out of your gut. “I promise you are.”
“Sometimes I forget,” he says, his arms coming up to wrap around you tight.
“I'll be here to remind you,” you say. “That's another promise.”
“Don't make ones you can't keep,” he says, squeezing you tighter.
“I never do,” you reply, leaning against him for a long moment before pulling back ever so slightly. Reaching for a loofah hanging on wall, you hold it out, posing a silent question. Yunho nods.
“You'll probably smell like lavender,” you say apologetically.
“I don't mind smelling like you,” he says with a small smile.
You count it as a victory as you lather up the loofah with your favorite soap, one of the few things you splurge on. Yunho loosens his grip as you step back, gently urging him around to let the spray hit his front. You wash his back and shoulders before moving down, careful not to miss a spot without teasing too much between his legs, at least not yet.
Standing back up, you repeat the process with his front, scrubbing a bit harder where smears of blood remain. You congratulate yourself on your restraint as you only tease his nipples the tiniest bit, unable to resist completely. He lets out a small laugh, which you add to your victory tally. You slide down to your knees to reach everywhere else, only rising back up to your feet to reach for the shampoo.
You hold up the bottle in question, knowing the scent of cashmere and driftwood couldn't be too offensive to his sensibilities if he didn't mind lavender. Yunho nods, and you unhook the spray nozzle, wetting down what the rain didn't get. He tilts his head back obligingly as you work in the shampoo, careful to shield his eyes from drips. You move on to conditioner after a good rinse, massaging it in with your fingers on his scalp.
He makes delightful sounds as you do, encouraging you to continue, and you let your fingers slide down to his neck, then his shoulders. The muscles are unsurprisingly knotted and tense, and you do your best to relieve some of the stress. He says your name softly, gratefully, and you nearly lose yourself to the rhythm of it.
Remembering to rinse out the conditioner, you urge him back around to find his eyes glassy, pupils dilated. He's half-hard just from your touch, and that decides it. Nudging him back against the wall, you drop to your knees again and look up, asking for permission. He nods, briefly touching your hair so as not to get it too wet.
You can't help but smile at the consideration as you lean in, pressing kisses along his length. Taking him in hand, you give him several long strokes, feeling him firm up between your fingers. Licking a long stripe up from the base, you slide across his frenulum with purpose before taking the head fully in your mouth. You bob your head, working your way down until you've taken as much of him as you can. Yunho isn't small, and you pump the rest of his shaft with your hand while working him over with your mouth and tongue.
He moans, wordless at first, then a litany of your name over and over as you suck and stroke. Yunho's hand returns to your hair, but you don't mind, his tight grip grounding to you. It doesn't take long before his cock kicks on your tongue, the head flaring out, and you know he's close. You work harder, taking him in deeper and swallowing around him. Yunho gasps out a warning, his hand tugging at your hair, and you stroke a little faster, a little harder, letting the head of his cock hit the back of your throat. Another swallow and he's gone, shooting into your mouth with each pulse, and you take every drop, milking him for more.
Yunho groans, his thighs shaking, and you pull away, your mouth and chin a mess. The water has turned lukewarm, and you're glad you showered earlier as there won't be any left for you. Bracing yourself against the wall, you rise to your feet, knowing you'll feel the pain from the shower floor later. You don't mind; you'd do it again for him, and probably will.
Yunho swipes a wet hand across your chin before pulling you in for a kiss. It's anything but chaste, his tongue plundering your mouth as he tastes himself there. You're dizzy when he finally pulls away, the water turning cool against your spine.
“It's getting cold,” you say with a slight shiver. “My building actually runs out of hot water.” Your tone is teasing as you shove lightly at his chest.
“Clearly I need to move you into mine,” he says, breathless from the kiss.
He freezes, his hands squeezing your shoulders where they had come to rest. “That – that wasn't —”
“I can pretend I didn’t hear it,” you say with a lump in your throat, moving to turn off the spray.
He says your name, careful and hesitant. “I don't want you involved in – in what I do. And I'm afraid if you're there, you'll be a target.”
“Yunho, I'm already involved,” you say. “I accepted it when I put on this necklace.” You tap the skin just beside it, reminding him.
“Maybe you shouldn't have,” he says, the words digging cruelly beneath your skin.
You turn away, roughly sliding back the shower door and grabbing a towel from the rack as you step out. Wrapping it around yourself, you stand before the mirror, wiping away enough of the fog to see. Reaching behind your neck, your fingers find the clasp. If that was what Yunho thought, that you somehow didn't deserve to wear it, then he could have it back. In fact, if that was what he thought, he could sleep on the couch.
Yunho's fingers cover your own as he appears in the mirror behind you. Holding them still, he slowly pulls your hands away from the chain. “I'm sorry,” he says. “I just want to keep you safe. Even from me. Maybe especially from me.”
“I don't give a damn about being safe if it keeps me away from you,” you say, holding his gaze in the mirror.
“You don’t know what I’ve done,” Yunho says, without looking away.
“It doesn’t matter,” you reply with a slight shake of your head.
“It does —” he insists, cut off by your next words.
“I love you.” His eyes widen as he takes in what you’ve said. “So no,” you continue. “It doesn’t. I’ll love you anyway.”
Grabbing you by the waist, Yunho turns you around to face him. “Say that again.”
“I love you,” you repeat, wrapping your arms around his neck.
Yunho leans in, his hands in the small of your back, resting his chin on your shoulder. “I have done nothing in this life to deserve you.”
“I don’t think love is about deserving it,” you say. “I think love is about living up to it, once you have it.”
“And if I can't do that?” he asks. “If I do nothing but drag you down with me?”
“I'll still love you,” you say honestly. “It'll just hurt more.”
He tries to pull away, but you dont let him. “That's why you shouldn't —”
“Yunho, I'm an adult,” you remind him. “I can make my own decisions, and I choose you.”
“I killed a man tonight,” Yunho says flatly. “Who may or may not have deserved it, because I was told to.”
“I know,” you say, even though you weren't certain until now. “Listen to me, Yunho. I know the man you truly are, when you're not following orders. I choose you, and I will again, every time.”
He pulls you closer, your head resting against his chest as he repeats your name like a mantra. “I love you,” he confesses. “You have no idea how much.”
“Show me,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest.
Taking you by the hand, he leads you back into the bedroom, pulling your towel away. He scoops you up princess style and gently lays you on the bed, following to stretch out above you. Stroking your cheek, he moves in for a soft, sweet kiss. Everything about the moment feels different than any time before, almost as if you've skipped straight to the after, when he holds you and praises you and kisses you like something precious. When you feel the most loved, even before you knew you were.
“Yunho,” you whisper as he pulls away, his mouth moving to your neck, then down your chest, one kiss at a time.
He licks at one nipple, sucking it into his mouth as he cups your other breast in his hand. He knows how easy it is to drive you wild this way, to focus on your tits while maddeningly ignoring everything else, but that isn't his goal tonight. He gives the other the same attention, making you squirm and let out soft, breathy moans before continuing down. He's even gentle here, working you open with one finger while licking and sucking at your clit. Your cunt throbs around him, wanting more, needing more, and you beg for it. He gives you two fingers, stroking and sliding in and out so, so slowly, as if the two of you have all the time in the world.
You hope to god that you do.
You make a mewling sound as he pulls out, leaving you wet and breathless. Moving back up your body, he presses his fingers to your lips and you taste yourself on him, salty sweet. A profound desire rises up within you, and hooking one leg over his hips, you push up, shoving at his shoulder to make your intention clear.
Yunho looks surprised, but goes along with it, rolling over onto his back. You climb atop him, and his hands find your hips, holding you there as you rut against his half-hard cock. You know you can get him there again, the slick slide of your pussy against him making him stiffen up beneath you. It almost feels good enough to keep going until you both come, but you have other ideas.
Reaching down, you angle his cock just right and slide down, a little at a time, pulling back up before taking more of him inside. His eyes flutter shut, and he struggles to keep them open as his head presses back into the pillow. Once you're finally fully seated, you take his hands from your hips and raise them over his head, bending low over his body. Yunho freezes for a moment, his muscles tense before letting go as they relax.
He looks up at you, eyes searching your face as you ride him, slowly at first, and then with greater purpose. There's something there you've caught glimpses of before without ever understanding, but now the realization hits hard. He truly does trust you, completely.
Speeding up, your motion against him growing harder, more intense, you pursue the single-minded goal of his pleasure. It feels amazing, having him inside you from this angle, so much more aware of your body than when you usually fuck. That isn’t what this is, and you both know it.
Unable to resist, you lean down to steal a kiss and find yourself captured, his mouth moving hungrily against yours. It feels like the moment stretches on forever, tilting your head for the perfect position, his lips parting to let you in as you taste and explore. He always tastes amazing, but there's something even better about him tonight, and you take and take, giving all you have in return.
His hips buck against yours, the motion growing stronger as his rhythm beneath you falters a bit and you know he's close. Squeezing tight around him, you try to move even faster, pulling up and sliding back down as he roughly matches your pace. Then he pushes up hard and freezes, his cock pulsing and jerking deep inside you as a sudden hot rush fills you to the brim. You know you should have stopped for protection, but in the moment you're glad you didn't, clenching down hard to milk every last drop.
He kisses you like a man possessed, easily breaking free from your hold as you know he could have at any moment but chose to submit. His arms wrap around you, holding you close as he gradually softens and slides out. Reaching between your bodies, he finds your clit and strokes, easily circling and sliding across it in the gathered slick. You roll your hips down against him, pressing your forehead to his and breathing hard. It doesn't take any time at all before you're riding the wave of a fierce orgasm, letting it pulse through you as your hips thrust and twitch into his touch. You pull away when it becomes too much, your muscles finally unclenching as you come down from the high.
“Thank you,” you whisper, not just meaning the orgasm, and you can tell he understands when he kisses you, sweet and slow.
You come down slowly, eventually rolling off to one side and wrapping yourself around him, your head resting on his chest. You can hear his heart still racing beneath your ear, matching your own.
“I love you,” he says again, kissing the top of your head. “I need to make sure you know that.”
“I do,” you say, wonderingly. “I do now.” You lie together in the semi-dark, the silence comfortable as you begin to drift off to sleep.
“You haven't asked me,” he says suddenly. “To give up what I do.”
“And I won't,” you say, sitting up slightly to see his face in the dim light from the bathroom. “No matter how much I worry about you, because I do, Yunho, I do. All the time.” You take a deep breath before continuing reaching up to stroke his cheek. “But they're your family.”
“So are you,” he says, nuzzling into your palm.
“It's different,” you say. “And I won't ask you to leave your brothers for me.”
“Someday,” he says, kissing your hand. “Someday I will, I promise you. I won't leave them if I don't have to, but I will leave the life. For me, and for us, even if you don't want it to be for you.”
“As long as it's your decision,” you say, snuggling back against him.
It feels like another slight show of dominance, just a touch and the last you'll venture for tonight, reminding him of his own free will. You're telling the truth; you couldn't live with yourself if you came between Yunho and his family, no matter how fucked up a relationship it was. You've come to admire them, even love some of them as if they were your own. You know you can't live without Yunho, so you're willing to make some concessions.
That was just one of the many differences between your relationship with Yunho and any in the past – the give and take between you, an ebb and flow. It was easy most of the time, and even when it wasn't, you still worked it out.
It was simple really, in the end; you loved him, and that wasn't going to change, no matter what the future brought. You loved him, and that was enough.
* yunho x afab fem reader
* organized crime
* dom/sub, possessive!yunho
* light bdsm, subspace, subdrop
* spanking, temperature play, restraints
* cw: controlling behavior, minor stalking
summary: feeling lonely and extremely single after a friend’s wedding, you stop by a bar on your way home that you’ve never visited before. the handsome bartender takes an interest in you, and you’re interested right back. very interested, in fact. a dance turns into something more, and before you know what’s happening, you’re in deep over your head - and you really, really like it.
⟢⟢ ao3 link ⟢⟢
part one || part two || part three || part four
tagging: @rhea-sylvia, @yuuhwa
The car pulls up at exactly 7:00 pm. You’re waiting just inside the lobby, dressed in something you hope counts as both understated and elegant, per Yunho’s request. It’s your average little black dress, a little loose but still managing to fall just right, along with stockings and heels. It’s nearly sleeveless, but you made sure the fabric covered the bite mark on your shoulder. You're quite fond of it, but that doesn't mean anyone else needs to see it. The lower half of the dress is composed of multiple layers of sheer fabric with a slight shine to them, and you’ve paired it with a light maroon stole for the late September night – he seemed to like that color on you, after all.
You actually splurged on a trip to the salon, letting your stylist work her magic on your hair and their manicurist give you French tips. You hadn’t bothered with either for the wedding on Friday, much to your amusement. Somehow, you knew Yunho would appreciate the effort far more than the bride ever would have.
You are, of course, wearing the necklace, having hated to take it off even long enough to shower but wanting to be careful with it. You kept getting distracted by its golden shine while doing your makeup, by the fiery flash of the inset opal. It was beautiful in its simplicity, and you adored it.
It looks like the same car this time, just with a different driver. He bids you a good evening and you reply in kind, hoping you don't look too nervous. It's a bit of a drive to the restaurant, and you begin to wonder where on earth you're going when the car heads through a small borough you’ve never visited, then pulls to a stop outside a plain-looking Italian restaurant. The driver exits first, actually opening the door for you while you're still fiddling with your purse.
You thank him, surprised at the gesture, and he gives you a slight bow. Not for the first time, you wonder who exactly you've gotten yourself involved with, and hope you'll know before it backfires in your face. Honestly, it feels like Yunho must have mistaken you for someone else, to do all of this.
There's a hostess standing by the door, who offers to escorts you to your table once you drop Yunho's name, and you realize with a bit of a shock that you don't even know his last name. The decor is classic, white stucco walls with jar candles on each table adding to the relatively dim light. Yunho stands when you reach the table in a back corner, somewhat secluded and quiet. Pulling out your chair for you, he stops, reaching out to touch the necklace that sits perfectly around your throat.
Just having him this close again is intoxicating. Settling the necklace back against your skin, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek.
“I'm very glad you like it,” he says, drawing back.
God, you want to kiss him again, want him to lift you up onto the table and —
“I love it,” you say, and his smile in return is soft, even a little shy.
You sit once he returns to stand by his chair, clearly waiting for you. The gesture makes you blush, and you try not to squirm too much, with the way the chair feels against your still sore behind. It was lightly bruised, but already fading, the fingerprints on your hips gone far too soon. Glancing up, you can see that he's noticed, a bit of slyness in the smile flirting with his lips.
Slightly flustered, you look down at the menu, a single page with a few options to choose from. It's primarily in Italian, but you can make sense of what counts. Yunho makes a recommendation for the lobster ravioli, and you nod, deciding it had been too many years since you've had anything containing lobster. Choosing the tortellini soup as an appetizer, you're glad Yunho lets you order for yourself when the waiter stops by, having always been a bit irked by men who ordered for their dates.
He orders something called Linguini Frutti del Mare after a moment's consideration, then asks for a particular estate of Sauvignon Blanc. The waiter nods without writing anything down and returns from whence he came as silently as he arrived.
“I hope you like white,” Yunho says, toying with his salad fork. “A red could have overwhelmed the lobster, and —”
“I do,” you say with a nod, noting his slight frown at being interrupted and filing it away. “I'm used to Chardonnay, so a Savignon Blanc sounds fantastic.”
You wonder briefly if he decided on seafood as well so as to share a single bottle of wine, but dismiss the idea. Surely he would have just ordered whatever he wanted. The waiter returns with Yunho’s chosen vintage in a small bucket of ice along with two glasses and smoothly opens the bottle, pouring Yunho a small amount to taste. He nods, and the waiter fills each of your glasses halfway before disappearing again.
“They seem to know you here,” you say, trying to make conversation as you shift a bit in your seat.
Yunho smiles. “I know the owners. Sofia's parents came over from Italy and started the place in the ‘60s. From what I understand, it's changed very little since.”
You nod. “I like it. Cozy but elegant. That's not easy to do.”
Yunho smiles, seemingly pleased that you like his choice. The wine is even better than you expected, crisp with a hint of sweetness beneath, and you compliment that as well. His salad and your soup arrive before long, the few cheese tortellini in the broth equally delicious. You can't help but feel spoiled, and say so when he asks about your smile.
Yunho waves off the compliment, glancing away. “What sort of man would I be if I couldn't treat my girl to a nice dinner?” he asks.
A painfully average one, you think, feeling your cheeks heat just a bit at being called his girl. You suppose it's a bit infantilizing, but surprisingly you don't care. Not from him.
You allow him to pour you a bit more wine once your meals arrive. The ravioli is beyond delicious, beautifully presented, and Yunho’s dish looks fresh from the Italian coast. Well, at least from what you've seen in films, having never been to Italy. You think wistfully for a moment of all the places you'd like to visit, knowing most are probably out of your reach in this lifetime. Your boss pays you as well as she can, having worked at the florist shop since you were a teenager, but you don't have much in the way of savings.
Your reverie is interrupted by Yunho reaching across the table to take your left hand, turning it over palm up to expose the stitches you’ve been trying to keep hidden.
“What's this?” he asks with obvious concern.
“Oh,” you say, determined to downplay the incident. “I just dropped a little vase at work and picked up a larger piece. Not sure why, I know better. I just felt a bit out of it yesterday.”
Yunho looks a bit uncomfortable at the statement, and you wonder what you might have said wrong. “I'll do better,” he says, squeezing the tips of your fingers. “I was too worried about the others —” He pauses for a moment before continuing. “Giving you a hard time.”
“Wooyoung seemed nice,” you offer, wondering what he meant by better. “And Sangie.”
Yunho smiles. “They are. Wooyoung won't stop ribbing me about skipping the meeting, but I can tell he likes you. They're like a family to me,” he adds.
“I think I heard your boss as I was leaving,” you say, oddly remembering the cool draft up your skirt as you reached the outer door.
Yunho's face shifts. “I'm sorry you did,” he says. “My words were…unkind.”
You smile, squeezing his fingers as he still hasn't let go of yours. “I mean, it was true,” you say, teasing.
“I'd ask if I lived up to your expectations,” he says taking a sip of his wine. “But I'm pretty sure I can answer that myself.”
You love the smirk on his face. “I hope you can,” you reply. “Wouldn't want to think I gave a mediocre review.”
He laughs, at last letting your hand go to return to his meal. Dinner passes pleasantly, the humor returning to his voice once he seems certain that you're both pleased with dinner and no longer feeling unwell. He skillfully dodges several of your personal questions and you decide not to pry, at least not on a first date. You refuse to count what happened in the bar as a date, after all, and hope he doesn't. You bypass a few of his questions in kind, just to hold your own, but you feel as though you've gotten to know each other much better by the time dessert rolls around.
He does order for you this time, after asking a question or two, and you decide to let it go this once after you taste the zuccotto. You never would have chosen it yourself, having never even heard of it. You have no problem letting him pick up the check, as it was his choice of restaurant and you doubt you could afford your half of it. Maybe next time you could splurge on pizza or curry.
He waits for you to stand, artfully arranging your stole around your shoulders, and you don't miss the way his thumb grazes the bite mark below. You let out a small gasp and watch his eyes darken, wondering if you could convince him to bite your thigh.
“I can have my driver take you home,” he says slowly. “Or…”
“Or?” you ask when he trails off, his fingers toying with the fabric of your stole.
“Or I could take you back to mine,” he finishes.
There's no question which option he prefers, from the tone of his voice and the expression on his face. You're definitely in agreement.
“I like the second choice,” you say with a flirtatious smile.
“I was hoping you'd say that.” Yunho returns your smile, gesturing for you to go first.
As you exit the restaurant, you hear Yunho speaking with the hostess. “Please give Sofia my regards,” he says.
“Of course,” she answers, then continues more quietly. “It's nice to see you here with a lovely lady instead of your brothers.”
Yunho gives a quiet laugh. “She's special,” he says.
“Va bene,” she answers. “Take care, Yunho. You know I worry.”
You pretend not to have heard when he joins you just outside, gesturing toward a small side parking lot. The car he leads you toward is far less fancy than the one that's chauffeured you around so far and you're glad of it. It's still an Audi, and far out of your price range, but it doesn't scream luxury. Loud rock music blares from the speakers when he starts the ignition, something you know you recognize but just can't place. He quickly reaches to cut it off, and you stop him, just turning it down a few notches.
“I like it,” you say. “I was a little afraid you were going to be listening to opera.”
Yunho laughs in surprise. “I hate opera,” he confesses.
“So do I,” you say, sharing in the laughter.
It isn't a long drive to his apartment, the building old enough to be historic but still unassuming. The parking garage below it is decidedly newer, and Yunho gives a friendly wave to the guard in the tiny station. She acknowledges him with a nod and you take an elevator to the seventh floor, at the very top of the building. Yunho holds your hand as he leads you to number 76 and unlocks the door.
He pauses once inside, as though listening for something. Then he's backing you against the door, his lips finding yours in the dark. His hands slide down your sides and over your hips, hiking up the bottom of your dress.
“I'm tired of being polite,” he says after pulling back, tugging your lower lip between his teeth.
“Good,” you say, already breathless. “So am I.”
Toying with the hem of your dress, Yunho's fingers find the surprise you've hidden just for him tonight. Running his thumb along the garter strap holding up your sheer black thigh-highs, he follows them up to the lacy belt before letting out a curious hum.
“What do we have here, naughty girl?” he asks.
You can hear the smile in his voice, and silently thank the impulse that led you to buy the set during a lingerie sale. “Just a little something I thought you might like,” you reply.
“This calls for more investigation,” he says, unceremoniously picking you up and throwing you over one shoulder.
You laugh, kicking playfully at the air, careful not to aim for his face. No one's ever picked you up like this before, and while you suppose you could protest, you don’t actually want to. Yunho carries you through the apartment, only setting you down when he reaches the bedroom after giving your ass a good smack. You can't hold back a yelp at the sting; even though the bruising has begun to fade, your cheeks are still sore.
The room is almost charming, one of the walls exposed aging brick. His bed dominates the space, easily king-sized, with a wood and metal frame, a simple dark grey duvet covering the mattress. An antique Shaker style chest sits at the end of the bed, with a colorful quilt folded atop it. A closed laptop with a lock sits on a desk in one corner, a few files in an organizer beside it, and a low light already glows atop a sturdy bedside table.
“Saw you squirming in your chair at dinner,” Yunho says with a smirk, steadying you on your feet as he lets you down. “Still feeling it?”
“You know I am,” you reply, fairly certain Yunho knew exactly what he was doing two nights previous.
“Not what I asked,” he says, reaching around to pinch the meat of your ass.
You hiss, drawing in a quick breath. Now that had hurt. “Yes,” you correct yourself. “Definitely still feeling it.”
“That's better,” Yunho says.
Walking around behind you, he takes your stole and lays it gently over one of a pair of plush chairs before unzipping your dress. You wriggle out of it as he guides the fabric down over your hips and lets you step out. The dress joins your stole on the chair, just as carefully placed. He trails his fingers down your spine, making you shiver, before returning to your front.
“Stay,” he admonishes, slipping off his suit jacket and hanging it on the back of the door.
Unbuttoning his cuffs, Yunho places his heavy-looking silver cufflinks in a small organizer sat atop his dresser. He rolls the sleeves up to his forearms, and your gaze is magnetically drawn to one of the first things you noticed about him after his smile. The Aries tattoo seems self-explanatory, and you’ve already reaped the benefits of his impulsivity. The spade remains more of a puzzle, but one you’d definitely like to solve as you’re wearing its match.
Yunho follows your eyes and flexes his arm. “Spada,” he says. “A sword. My family plays Hwatu for blood, but this symbolism seemed…simpler.”
His answer to the question you hadn’t even asked only raises more, instead of providing answers. “Is this the part where you tell me you’re secretly a competitive fencer?” you ask, covering up your nerves with an attempt at humor.
Yunho smiles. “No,” he says, offering no further explanation. “Now, I need you to pick a word for me, something that will tell me to stop. Otherwise, I won't.”
“Lily,” you say immediately, having already picked one out just in case he asked.
Somehow the idea of not having one at all makes your pulse race, of being entirely at his mercy with no recourse, but you know he's right. There could come a time when you needed the word, need that instant of power and control, though you determine not to use it unless absolutely necessary. After all, you wouldn't want to disappoint him.
“Good girl,” Yunho says approvingly, and a warmth blooms in your cheeks.
Moving behind you, he unclasps your bra, older but mostly matching your panties with tiny black bows at the straps and between your breasts. You had been proud of the combination, but you also aren’t sorry to see it go.
Sitting down in one of the chairs, he pats his knee. You pause for a moment, wondering if you're meant to sit in his lap.
“Bend over,” he clarifies.
You slowly move to do as he asks, your knees on the rug and your ass in the air within perfect striking range. You can almost brace yourself with your hands on the floor, but not quite, something you're certain Yunho was planning on. He toys with the lace belt, running a finger beneath it before lifting one of the straps and letting it snap back down. It stings, but nowhere near as much as you know it's about to. Pinching the meat of your ass through your panties, he soothes with a brush of his fingers across the satin.
They're black and cream to match the belt, but don't hide the discoloration to either side. Yunho brushes his thumb across that, too, before speaking.
“I had other plans for tonight,” he says. “But how can I resist this?”
Bringing his hand down in an arc he smacks you hard. You let out a gasp at the pain then bite your lip.
“No need to be quiet this time,” he reminds you.
He alternates spanking with snaps of your garters, now hurting a great deal more as he's moved down to the tops of your thighs as well. You cry out in response, the noise almost as cathartic as the pain he's bringing you. Reaching between your legs, he pinches the skin just below your panties, hard. You can't help but jerk forward, dragging your clit across his thigh and moaning at the sensation.
His fingers slide from front to back, feeling the wetness gathered there. You're certain you're soaked through at this point, and Yunho makes a pleased noise. Tugging your underwear down as far as it will go, he strokes you again, this time without anything in between. Circling your clit with one finger, he moves back down, breaching your entrance with two. His rhythm is agonizingly slow, pressing in and dragging his fingers back out, skillfully avoiding the one spot you desperately want him to hit.
Pulling out, he returns to spanking you, the mixture of pain and pleasure now completely overwhelming. He strokes your swollen folds after every few strikes, your senses absolutely soaring. You're barely aware of your position anymore, of the way your arms dangle, searching for purchase, the way your knees dig painfully into the raised pattern on the rug. All you can feel is Yunho’s hands on you, one tugging at your hair, the other plunging back inside.
You rock forward without thinking, rubbing your clit against his leg. His strikes grow harder in response.
“Did I say you could move?” he asks, a tremor in his voice.
You can feel his arousal pressing into your side, hot and hard. “I think maybe you want me to,” you say, squirming against him.
Yunho's swift intake of breath is your reward, followed by another spank. Flipping you over, he scoops you up in his arms princess style, making the move seem effortless. He carries you over to the bed, depositing you on top of the duvet and kneeling down beside. Pulling something out from beneath the bed, he stands back up and looms over you, regarding you with a disappointed expression. Your stomach churns at the thought, and you resolve to be good, the way you know he expects.
Holding up one hand, he lets a section of red braided rope dangle down for you to see. Lifting your arms over your head, he loops it around your wrists twice, doing something complicated between the metal bars on the headboard. At least now you know they're not purely decorative. Giving your hands an experimental tug once he finishes, you realize two things; you have enough room to move your wrists but the knot is sturdy enough that you're not going anywhere. It feels oddly perfect, a sense of security descending from your head to your feet, still wearing your buckled heels.
The next item he holds out for you to see looks like a black sleep mask embellished with lace. He doesn't wait for your opinion before slipping it over your head and adjusting it to cover your eyes completely. You realize that the lace at the edges prevents you from gaining even so much as a peek at what Yunho might be doing. It's perfect.
You feel his fingers on your breasts, cupping them lightly before pinching one of your nipples. He sucks at the other, licking across it before biting down. It isn't hard, but enough to hurt as aroused as you are. He lingers there, alternating soft touches with rough treatment, and if you weren't thoroughly wet before, you certainly are now. Kissing his way down, Yunho reaches the garter belt and licks around the lace, toying with the straps and snapping them back. Then he's unhooking them from your stockings, bending your legs at the knee to reach the two in the back, and tugging your panties all the way off. You wonder if he'll keep these as well, if you'll need to order a new supply of sexy underthings to keep up.
Carefully unbuckling your shoes, he slides them off your feet and you hear him setting them to one side on the floor. Sliding his hands back up your legs along the smooth, sheer fabric, you’re surprised to feel him replacing the garters where they belong. He snaps them again, this time at the back where he knows they'll sting.
Circling your clit with one finger, he then gives it a harsh flick. You jolt from the sensation, pulling at the bindings, which remain steady. Then you feel him pulling away, rising from his seat on the mattress beside you.
“I could just leave you here, you know,” he says. “Get some work done, or maybe watch TV. Have a nice drink. What do you think?”
“Please,” you beg. “Don't leave, Yunho, please.”
He hums. “I think you should call me something different. What do you think?”
You swallow hard, hoping to god he doesn't mean daddy. Your relationship with your father is rocky at best, and you're not sure you could manage it.
“Yes sir,” you say demurely, banking on a classic.
“There's my girl,” he says. “Now, stay put for me.”
A spike of dismay runs through you as you hear him leave the room, worrying that he might make good on his threat. Only a few minutes pass however before his footsteps return and the mattress dips beside you. Something shockingly cold touches the underside of your chin, sliding down your neck, and you shiver at the sensation. It travels down your chest, lingering at each breast to circle the nipple before pressing down. You can hear your own whimpers as if from a distance, lost in the feel of what must be an ice cube dripping water along your skin. Another replaces the first as it melts, continuing down your torso before returning to your breasts and lingering there. Your nipples numb until you can barely feel the cold and your squirming settles down a bit.
Reading your body’s reactions, Yunho moves back down to dip into your belly button before slipping beneath the waistband of the belt. He retrieves a third cube, sliding it along your swollen folds. The sensation is terrible and amazing all at once, cold and tingling but somehow still hot. Rubbing it against your clit is almost too much, especially when he holds the cube in place. You whine but refuse to tap out, more present in your body than you've felt in ages. It's torture and a delight, all in one.
Then comes the best and worst part as he presses an ice cube to your entrance before slipping it inside. It only feels cold for a moment before it burns, a pain you know is going to linger as it seeps into your muscles. He doesn't let up, holding it there until it melts and you're a shaking, begging mess.
Deeming you've had enough, Yunho rises back up from the bed. You make as if to reach out to him, forgetting that your hands are tied, and he lets out a small huff of laughter.
“Shh,” he soothes. “I'm not going anywhere.”
You hear the shuffling of fabric, attuned to every sound in the room, and realize he must be undressing. The thought thrills you, even if you can't see his body. You can still imagine it. The clink of his belt precedes another rustling, and you squirm, needing his hands back on your skin.
You get your wish soon enough as the mattress dips from the end this time, and you hear him crawling onto the bed. Raising your knees back up, he spreads your legs wide. Then he's stroking your pussy, thumbs sliding along your slit and teasing the inner lips extending out with your arousal. You can't hold back a moan, glad you haven't been instructed to remain quiet this time.
His tongue follows the path traced by his fingers, light and teasing, flicking at your clit. The warmth after the chill of the ice nearly overwhelms you and you try to stay more or less still. Then his fingers are circling your entrance, teasing, sliding easily through the gathered slick. Desperate to have him inside you, you press forward against him, and he pulls away entirely.
“Greedy,” he says with a firm slap between your legs. “You'll take what I give you, and nothing more.”
“Yes sir,” you answer, stilling your movements as best you can.
It's nearly impossible, the way he licks and sucks at your clit, parting your folds to slide up and down with a loose hold between his thumb and forefinger. Your cunt throbs, clenching down around nothing, the desperate need to be filled nearly overwhelming. He teases mercilessly, moving his tongue side to side, so wet you know his face must be drenched in the taste of you. Unsure if you're allowed release, you try to hold back the orgasm you can feel building but it's like trying to stem the tide. It grows until you're right at the edge, riding the feeling, and you find yourself begging.
“Please,” you gasp out. “Please sir, I need – may I —”
“Close already?” he asks, his tone slightly mocking despite the hours or days that could have passed with you in his bed.
You nod, words failing you in your struggle.
“Then come for me, like a good girl,” he says, at last pressing two fingers inside.
You let go, the orgasm flooding your senses in wave after wave of pleasure seeming to go on and on forever. Your nerves are on fire as he works you through it, thrusting slowly in and out while licking at your clit. You can feel the wetness dripping out of you as you tighten around his fingers in an uncontrolled rhythm, hear every slick wet sound as Yunho keeps going, not finished with you yet. It's too much; it's not enough, and something in you begins to float away, drifting with the current that rushes through your body.
He's still touching you, driving two fingers roughly inside and pulling back out, pinching and flicking at your clit. It burns, the pain almost sharp enough to draw you back but you hover just outside yourself, awash in bliss. Then he crooks his fingers, finding that electric bundle of nerves that shoots lightning through your frame, setting your nerve endings alight, and you cry out at the feeling.
Circling around and then brushing across it, Yunho cruelly manages to avoid the spot on the next several thrusts before returning to it like a magnet. Yunho's tongue joins his fingers at your entrance, licking and pressing inside along with them. If you have any awareness of your body left it's focused there, on the intrusion, on the sparks slowing building into a flame.
Crooking his fingers back toward himself, Yunho drags the tips over the spot where you want them most. Suddenly it's more than you can stand, his unrelenting strokes making every muscle in your body tense, your arms tugging hard at the rope as you lose control of your hips. Yunho holds you down with one hand as you buck against him, desperate and wanton. The second orgasm wrenches its way through your body like a lightning strike, a shout clawing its way up out of your throat as your back arches off the bed. Something feels different this time, a spreading wetness down your legs, soaking up into your belt, and you panic.
“Such a good girl for me,” Yunho praises, still moving his fingers slowly in and out as your body spasms around him.
“Did – did I just —” You can't make yourself say the words, your voice barely above a whisper as it is.
“Piss yourself?” Yunho asks, flicking his tongue across your clit and making you twitch. “No, baby, you just squirted for me.”
“Never,” you murmur, turning your head against the pillow. “Never happened before.”
“Then it's even better,” Yunho says, a smile in his voice. “Because it's all mine.”
You can hear and feel him moving around on the bed, then two wet fingers press against your lips. “Taste,” he says, the word not a request.
You open your mouth and he slides his fingers inside, pressing down on your tongue. It's slightly sweet, with the barest hint of salt, and you feel absolutely debauched for licking him clean.
“You're amazing,” he praises, trailing wet fingers lightly across your cheek, and warmth kindles in your chest. “Think you can take more for me, baby?”
You aren't sure you could handle another orgasm in the next twenty-four hours, much less now, but you don't want to disappoint him. Your body still craves Yunho, craves his touch, needs him in ways you've never experienced.
“Yes sir,” you whisper, the barely-there sound all you can manage.
You hear a rustling sound followed by the snap of an elastic waistband, more clothes going by the wayside. You hear the sound of a drawer opening, followed by the telltale crinkling of foil. You wish he would fuck you raw again, but know on some level that you shouldn't be that irresponsible.
The lower end of the bed dips as he arranges himself before speaking. “Spread your legs.”
You hasten to obey, having squeezed them shut after your last orgasm. Crawling up the bed, he lifts your legs, hooking them over his shoulders and teases you with his cock. Sliding it between your slick, wet folds, he nudges your sore and throbbing clit several times, making you wince. It still feels good, addictively so, and you remain quiet as he lines himself up and gradually begins to push inside.
He's every bit as big as you remember and despite how wet you are, he still takes it agonizingly slow. You cant your hips up, desperate to be filled, and unforgivably, he stops.
“Did I say you could move?” he says, infuriatingly calm while pinching one nipple.
You shake your head, the rebuke hitting hard. “I'll be good,” you promise, stilling your hips.
He resumes his motion, eventually sliding in that last inch to be fully sheathed inside you. You can't help the moan that leaves your mouth at the feel of it once he finally, finally starts to move. He plunges in and out, no longer taking his time as he fucks you in earnest. The bedframe squeals as he thrusts hard, your abused cunt taking every one. You couldn't describe how good it feels if your life depended on it, his hardness striking hard against east must be your cervix. It hurts as he pounds you into the mattress, another layer to the sensations rushing through you from head to toe. Every inch of your skin is alive with pleasure and pain, your nerves firing in all directions to bring you to an edge you never knew existed as he lets one of your legs drop back down, tilting you slightly to the side with the other still raised.
Now his cock hits that sweet spot inside you over and over, and you think you might black out from sheer overload. He tortures your nipples, pulling and twisting and pinching without letting up. The orgasm hits you without warning, having never felt it build among all the other sensations dragging you down like a ripcurrent. You cry out, feeling tears wet the mask as your cunt spasms hard around him. You've never experienced pain like this in your life, mixed with more pleasure than you can stand without your entire system short circuiting.
You feel yourself drifting far away, the world growing hazy as your eyes roll back. You aren't sure if you're going to pass out or dissociate entirely, but then the mask is torn away and you can see Yunho's face above you in the lamplight. He looks as wrecked as you feel, sweat beading at his brow and dripping down onto your face. You don't mind, licking it away where it lands on your lips, savoring the salty taste.
“Needed to see you,” he explains, or tries, his words coming out like a grunt.
You nod, face wet with tears and sweat, your own mingling with his against your skin. His hips begin to lose their punishing rhythm and his eyes squeeze shut as his cock kicks and pulses inside you. You imagine you can feel the hot rush of his come to satiate the wild urge within you as your cunt throbs around him.
He lingers inside you, growing soft before lowering your leg and leaning down to kiss away your tears. “So good for me, baby,” he says, his voice hoarse. “My good girl."
You soar at his praise, feeling him finally slip out from inside. You miss it already, the feeling of being stuffed full, even the pressure on your g-spot as much as it drove you nearly to madness. Your eyelids flutter shut as he braces himself on his elbows to either side of you, leaning in for a kiss.
It's rough at first, fierce and hungry, but gradually settles into something easier, something deep. You hope it means something, hope it's more than just a sentimental impulse after an amazing fuck. Eventually pulling back, he kisses your eyelids before sitting up and dealing with the condom, sinking a shot into the wastebasket beside his desk after tying it off.
“Still with me, babygirl?” he asks, stroking your cheek.
You nod, half lost to somewhere else, but still present enough to hear the question.
His hands fumble with the clasps of your garter belt before tugging it down over your feet and tossing it to one side off the bed. Your stocking are next, confusing you as to why he wouldn't just leave them on. Surely you should be getting dressed again soon? Yunho takes deliberate care with the delicate material, clearly trying not to start any runs, and it's that simple act that wrecks you.
A sob leaves your throat and you hate yourself for it, once again crying after the mind-blowing experience of being with him. Sliding his hands up one calf, then your thigh, he bypasses your swollen pussy to lean back over you. Wiping away the tears, he kisses your cheeks, whispering soothing words you can't even process.
Continuing up, he loosens the ropes at your wrists, massaging your wrists where you hadn't even realized they ached. Eventually satisfied, he slowly pulls your arms down to your side, squeezing your hands.
“Let's get under the covers,” he suggests, and you try to sit up only to fail.
Yunho helps you, bracing your back against the headboard while he pulls down the covers on the opposite side of the bed. He gestures and you slide over, beneath the duvet and a soft sheet printed with golden yellow leaves. You lie on one side out of habit, slipping your hand beneath the pillow only to feel something silky. Pulling it out, you discover your panties from the other night.
You hold them up, hoping your face reflects the amusement you feel. Yunho looks embarrassed, his eyes on the sheets.
“You can, ah, have those back, if you want,” he says.
You reach between your legs, gathering the wetness there, and smear some of it on the gusset before sliding them back beneath his pillow with a smirk. He blinks at you in disbelief, shaking his head before his face breaks out into a smile.
“You are something else,” he says, moving down to lie beside you.
Feeling bold, you lean in to plant a kiss on his lips, words still too far away to grasp. Your head swims, part of you still floating in a vast ocean far away, and you give in to its pull as the kiss ends.
Brushing your cheek with his fingers, Yunho rolls you over and wraps an arm tightly around your waist. It feels amazing, having him pressed to your back, his knees in the hollow created by your own. He's still pressing kisses to your cheek, your throat, even your chin. It slowly filters through your mind that perhaps he finished undressing you so that you could comfortably sleep beside him.
It's almost too much to hope.
“Should I find my clothes?” you mumble, needing to be sure.
“Why would you do that?” Yunho asks, sounding genuinely confused.
“Can't take a cab naked,” you manage, each word an effort to push past your lips.
“Stay?” he asks in a small voice. “Please stay.”
You nod. “Yes, sir,” you respond, sleep beginning to have its way with you.
“Just Yunho,” he says. “We're not in that place anymore, okay?”
“Okay,” you agree. The last thing you feel before sleep finally claims you is the way his arm tightens about your waist, and a soft kiss to the back of your neck.
* hongjoong/mingi
* space pirates, sex pollen
* miscommunication
* rated E, 12k
Part of a crew of scavengers on a starship held together with hopes and prayers, Mingi has harbored feelings for his captain for years. When a mission goes horribly awry, he risks those feelings becoming known and has to manage the aftermath.
Detective Choi San doesn’t want the assignment when he’s volunteered to go undercover as a patron of an illegal sex club…until he meets a stunningly beautiful omega named Wooyoung, who rocks his safe, familiar world to the core. Once freed from his captivity, Wooyoung pushes San away, only to realize just how much they need each other after all. Along the way, he meets an unforgettable pack who teach him about the intricacies of love while slowly helping him begin to heal.
