pt 3 @yslkook - Tumblr Blog

Jun 5

on the rocks

* 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 || part two below

Against your better judgment, you take his hand and slide off the stool. Your phone case with its small wallet smacks against your hips where the thin strap loops over your shoulder. You're glad you decided not to bring a clutch, even if it looks a bit odd. You've never really understood bringing something along that you have to carry all night, style be damned.

Leaning in close, Yunho whispers in your ear. “That's a good girl.”

You can't suppress a shiver as you let him lead you out onto the floor. Positioning your hand just so on his shoulder, he keeps hold of the other and leads you in a two-step to what you recognize as a Louis Armstrong classic. It's surprisingly easy to follow, and you can't help but feel a bit accomplished when the song ends.

“Not so bad, right?” Yunho asks.

You shake your head. “That was…actually fun,” you answer.

“Of course it was,” Yunho says. “You're with me.”

He gives you a wink before the tempo changes and he starts you off in a box step, taking it slow while you to get the pattern down. It doesn't take long with Yunho leading you across the floor, and you even manage to keep the rhythm as he twirls you around.

Pulling you in so your back is pressed to his chest, he nuzzles at your temple before reaching around to open your blouse by one more button. You allow it, even leaning back ever so slightly against him. You tell yourself the shirt was fairly chaste before, only open enough to show your tiny silver necklace, so what does one more button matter? It helps that the action sends a warm, electric tingle straight south beneath your skirt. In your mind, he's already several buttons down, and it's a struggle not to stumble when he spins you back around. Pleased with yourself, you manage it, despite feeling dizzy with the sudden, unfamiliar rush of desire.

“Whatever gave you the impression that you aren't a good dancer?” Yunho is asking when you come back to yourself.

“Oh, I don't know,” you reply, knowing your cheeks are already too flushed to be hit with any embarrassment. “Everyone I've ever tried to dance with?”

“Maybe you just needed the right partner,” he says, tucking a wayward strand of hair behind your ear.

Smooth, you think. “Maybe I did,” you answer.

Yunho gives you a smile with only a hint of smugness. Leaning in, he presses a soft kiss to your cheek, and you can't help the quiet oh that leaves your mouth. He moves down, leaving sparks in his wake, kissing your jaw before pausing just before his lips would meet yours. It's excruciating, waiting for him to close the distance, but you know you shouldn't make the first move. Not if you want to be good.

Your eyes flutter shut, only to feel one finger pressed against your lips. You stay still as a statue and Yunho gives a quiet hum.

“Do you trust me?” he whispers, drawing his finger down to drag lightly across your lower lip.

You want to bite it. Instead, you turn the question over in your mind. Sensing your hesitation, Yunho takes a small step back, his hand falling away. You feel the loss keenly, already missing his touch. You can't remember the last time you wanted anyone this much, and in the end, the decision is easy.

“Yes,” you say quietly in answer.

He's wearing a satisfied smile when you open your eyes, and briefly takes your chin in his hand, stroking your jaw before letting go. “There's my girl,” he says, and the butterflies return in full force.

Your much smaller hand fits entirely in his grip as he takes hold, leading you across the dance floor toward the back wall. Opening a door labeled “Business Office,” he leads you down a short hallway that’s definitely showing its age, paint peeling in places, the antique crown molding looking ready to topple down. A room opens up to the right, looking every inch like an overworked accountant’s second home, with some sort of large supply closet to the left. Wondering if Yunho might be planning on a little hanky panky in the copier room, you slow your steps and raise an eyebrow when he looks back.

“Keep trusting me,” he says, favoring you with a smile that makes you weak in the knees. Reaching the end of the hall, Yunho pulls back the grate on an ancient-looking elevator, clearly labeled “Out of Order,” and motions for you to step inside.

A warning bell sounds in your mind. “Oh, I don’t think —”

“Relax,” he says, the fingers of one hand lightly stroking the back of your neck. “It doesn’t go anywhere. Well, not up or down, anyway.”

“Yunho, I —”

“Exit’s that way, babe,” he says flatly, nodding toward a clearly marked door down a side hallway. “But you know what I think?” he adds, leaning in close. “I think you came here tonight looking for something different. I think you want to live a little, don’t you?”

Your newfound sense of adventure wars with your deeply rooted common sense, the former eventually winning out. “I think you’re right,” you say softly.

Yunho nods with a secretive smile and takes the lead again, inserting a key into a small panel on the far side of the elevator. The car proves double-sided as the back wall slides open, the hallway beyond dimly lit by decorative sconces in the exposed brick. Yunho holds out his hand, and once again, you take it, hoping your libido isn’t about to get you murdered.

High heels clicking softly against the wooden floorboards of the corridor, you follow him closely. A large man looms next to a doorway farther down, frowning at the two of you as Yunho stops before a portal on the left.

“You're late,” the man directs toward Yunho, who puts a finger to his lips.

“I can't be late if I was never here,” he says with a tilt of his head. “Now can I?”

The man rolls his eyes, glaring pointedly at you. You press closer to Yunho, tamping down on the urge to glare right back. The man could easily break you in half, and looks like he might just for fun. Where the hell had you ended up?

Yunho tugs you into the room beyond, an extremely well-appointed lounge with two leather couches, a bar cart, and a sturdy looking wooden desk to one side. Dropping your hand, he crouches down beside one of the low couches and pulls a long, thin box out from underneath thst you never would have seen. Glancing back up, he nods toward the door.

“Lock it,” he says, his voice firm, and you can’t keep the smile from twitching at your mouth as you follow his instruction. “Now, put your hands on the desk, facing away from me.”

You do as he asks a bit more slowly this time, wondering where this was all going to lead. You hear him close the box with a snap before approaching you, one hand grazing along your spine to squeeze your ass. Suppressing a giggle, you lean back into the touch. He pinches your cheek hard through your skirt, making you gasp at the sudden pain.

“There we go,” he says, taking a step back. The sound of something whipping through the air to strike a solid surface fills your ears, and you start to turn around, only for Yunho’s voice to stop your motion. “Ah-ah,” he says. “I didn’t say you could look.”

It happens so fast you barely have time to breathe; the sound of swiftly displaced air comes again, followed by a sharp, stinging pain that blooms in one cheek and spreads out along the nerves in your thighs. He’s not using his hand to strike you, but another, smaller object you can’t see. It comes again, on your other side this time, and warmth radiates out from the point of impact.

“What —”

“Did I say you could speak?” Yunho asks, following the words up with another strike.

You shake your head, arms quivering a bit where your keep your hands pressed to the polished wood. It was true, he hadn’t, though you didn’t realize you suddenly needed permission. You hadn’t realized a lot of things about the situation until you were neck deep in it, too late to turn back.

Slowly, a thought filters through the haze of pain as the impacts continue. You don’t want to turn back. You’ve never been this deep into anything in your life, and can’t stand the thought of coming up for air. A sound breaks free from your throat, and suddenly Yunho’s hand covers your mouth, yanking your head back.

“Stay quiet,” he hisses against your ear. “Wouldn’t want anyone to hear you, now would we?”

You shake your head again, feeling an involuntary tear travel down your face to land on his fingers. He pulls his hand back, licking at the wetness there.

“You’re delicious,” he says, nibbling at the shell of your ear before drawing back to deliver another harsh, stinging blow.

You bite down hard on your lower lip to keep from crying out as something begins to build within you, something that isn’t pain, not exactly, but a cousin to it. You clench down around nothing with each strike, feeling your cunt throb for lack of attention. The pain makes you hyperaware of every sensation coursing through your body, every hair standing on end, every twitch of muscle as you struggle to hold your position. You feel numb to anything outside of it, the framed photographs on the wall behind the desk blurring in your vision as you try to focus on something, anything to stay upright.

Your ankle wobbles in the high heeled shoe, nearly twisting beneath you before Yunho intervenes. Catching you around the waist, he slides down to his knees behind you, planting a kiss on each of your thighs just below the hem of your skirt. Lifting each foot, he removes your shoes, sliding his thumb down one of your arches before setting the heels to one side. Rising from the floor, he lifts your skirt and drapes it over your back, letting out a low whistle.

“I like these,” he says, running a finger beneath the waistband of your panties. You spare a moment to be grateful that you wanted to feel pretty tonight, wearing a set that usually waited in the drawer for a special occasion that never came. They were a slightly lighter shade than your blouse, mostly satin with lace in the pattern of a camellia at each side. They were also small, letting you feel a bit daring without anyone ever having to know.

Until now, at least, Yunho’s fingers slowly spreading out to stroke the material. Every point of contact stirs up soreness from the prior blows, contrasting with the softness of his exploration in a way that feels downright addicting. It gives you a moment to catch your breath, until he pinches the skin of your inner thigh, just below your crotch. You remember to muffle the sound it provokes, your lips pressed tightly together against the wordless cry.

“Good girl,” he says, almost proudly, before sliding two fingers along the fabric covering your pussy from front to back, making you realize how wet you are.

It isn’t a surprise, not really. You’ve never experimented with pain before, but you know your body will crave it again after tonight. With the way Yunho’s strikes have resonated across your skin, you’re surprised you’re not dripping.

Yunho makes a greedy sound, brimming with want and you hear the clatter of something falling to the floor. An open handed smack lands against your ass, pushing you hard against the desk. Your entire body jolts as he does it again, then again, the pain staying balanced as he alternates from one side to the other. You fall forward onto your elbows, unable to hold yourself up any longer as the sensation ratchets up past some invisible threshold for maintaining your dignity.

Gripping your hair, Yunho pulls, forcing your back to arch. “Beautiful,” he murmurs, delivering another powerful spank. You only realize you’ve been grinding your pussy against the edge of the desk when Yunho grabs your hips and tugs you back, depriving you of the sensation. Turning you around, he lifts you up onto the desktop, fingers digging into the abused meat of your ass and sending lightning strikes of pain along your nerves.

He takes a moment to wipe the tears from your cheeks with his thumb before popping it into his mouth, eyes fluttering shut as if to savor the salty taste. Then he’s slowly unbuttoning your blouse, one by one, to expose your bra below. It doesn’t match your underwear exactly, but it’s close, and you liked the idea of wearing them together. Yunho seems to agree as he runs his fingers along the lace before slipping your shirt off your shoulders. After pressing a soft kiss there, he bites down hard.

You almost let slip the sound that rises from your throat at the feel of his teeth sinking into your skin. There’s no way it won’t leave a mark, as deep as the pressure feels.

Good, you think, wanting something to remember the night by.

Yunho trails kisses down your chest before popping the center clasp on your bra and sliding the straps off your shoulders. They loop around your wrists, just above where the fabric of your shirt pools against the desk. Reaching out, you run your fingers through his hair as he cups your breasts in his hands, stroking the skin with his thumbs. He glances up, pure desire written on his face as he licks at one nipple before sucking it into his mouth. It’s even harder to hold in the noises that well up from within you now, but you manage, eyes squeezed as tightly shut as your lips.

His teeth graze the sensitive nub as he pulls off, rubbing at its twin before pinching it hard. You bring your hand to your mouth to cover it against the noises you can’t hold back as he toys with you, circling one nipple with his tongue before laving across. You could almost come from how good it feels, unable to keep your hips still as you writhe against nothing.

When you think you can’t take it anymore, Yunho rucks your skirt up over your thighs with a growl and falls back to his knees. Hooking his fingers below the waist of your panties, he roughly tugs them down your legs and off. Your vision swims, but you still catch Yunho shoving them in his pocket before leaning in.

Licking a long, slow stripe up your lips, he flicks his tongue over your clit, sending a bright flare of pleasure through your body. You grip the edge of the desk and spread your legs wider at his urging, the hardwood below you unforgiving against your tender flesh. Running his thumbs along your slit, he parts your swollen folds, stroking down and back up. Finding your entrance, he circles it with one finger before getting back to work with his tongue, tracing arcane patterns across your clit to send waves of sensation rolling through you.

It's sweet torture and heaven all in one, the pain from earlier only amplifying how good everything he's doing feels. Sliding his tongue down, he adds it to the tease at your entrance before thrusting inside. He fucks you with his it, thrusting in and out while his nose nudges at your clit, and you're so close, you just need a little more —

Cruelly, Yunho pulls away. You realize you’ve let out a loud moan just as he jams two fingers in your mouth to keep you quiet.

“Naughty girl,” he says. “Going to get us caught.”

Delivering a harsh smack to your pussy, the meat of his palm strikes your clit and you whimper. He does it again, then once more for good measure, leaving you a shaking mess so overcome with sensation you think your nerve endings might never recover. You feel strangely untethered, almost as if you could float away from your body at any moment as he dives back in.

This time instead of his tongue, he penetrates you with two fingers, thrusting roughly in and out. He curves them forward, finding a spot within you that feels electric and searing all at once, forcing your hips to jerk forward against his face. Yunho does it again, making your thighs quiver as you struggle not to close them, knowing he wouldn't tolerate it.

A few more flicks of his tongue, his fingers relentless in their slide, and you're coming harder than you think you ever have in your life. You suck at his fingers to keep from crying out, tears streaming down your face as you ride it out. You know you're dragging your pussy across his face and know you probably shouldn't, but he allows it, fucking you through it as he sucks at your clit.

Eventually the earth-shattering orgasm begins to release you from its hold, the rhythm slowing as you clench a bit less fiercely around him, your cunt releasing its iron grip. He rises to his feet, licking his fingers and humming in satisfaction at one last taste. He pulls the fingers of his other hand from your mouth with a stern look of warning before unbuckling his belt. You hear the scratch of his zipper loud in the deafening silence filling your ears and know what's coming next. You're not sure you can take it, already so overwhelmed, but you know you will without complaint.

Shoving down his slacks and a pair of boxer briefs, he grabs your hips in both hands hard enough to bruise. You hope it does, hope it leaves the imprint of his fingers on your skin for days after this is over. His cock looks painfully hard, red and leaking at the tip before he lines himself up and bullies it in.

The burn of his impressively large erection slamming roughly inside you can't compete with the look of intense focus on his face melting away into pure pleasure, his eyes falling shut. He pulls nearly all the way out before sliding back in, his hips bucking against you in a punishing rhythm as he does it over and over again. Your arms wrap tightly around his shoulders, fingers clawing at his back to draw out a low groan from his lips. Reaching into the tight space between your bodies, he thumbs at your clit, making you gasp, oversensitive but nevertheless on board. You whine at the dual sensation, your cunt and clit both on fire in a way you've never felt as a wave of pure force builds within you.

Feeling as though you could scream, you bite down hard in your lip as another orgasm rockets through you, sending your mind soaring away somewhere else. You can feel yourself spasming hard around him, feel the way his hips lose their rhythmic drive and freeze against you before his cock kicks and pulses deep inside with a hot rush. Yunho leans forward, resting against your forehead as you feel his ragged breaths against your mouth.

Kiss me, you think. God, please, just kiss me, but he doesn't. You fall forward against him as he begins to pull away, your head landing on his shoulder, and he stops, hands sliding up your back. He holds you there, letting you shudder and shake as another set of tears traces its way down your cheeks. Yunho holds himself stiffly and you eventually pull away to see him looking at a loss. His eyes dart across your face, his expression shifting into something almost remorseful as he wipes your tears away with a knuckle.

“Good?” he whispers, and you nod as quickly as you can manage.

You can't find the words to answer him, but you hope he gets the message as you attempt a smile. Your mouth doesn't seem to want to work, which you attribute to how far away you feel, drifting through a cloud. He says your name before one hand moves to the side of your neck, holding you in place for the fierce kiss you needed so badly. It's over far too soon, his hands rising to cup your face as he pulls away.

“Come back to me, baby,” he says, less a command and more of a plea, the tone unfamiliar.

You try your hardest to fall back down to earth, hoping he'll catch you, but you're too far gone. A stinging slap to your cheek followed up by a kiss to the skin feels like a burn, and begins to lure you back into your body. He does it again, and suddenly you can feel your heart pounding in your chest, your breaths heavy and ragged.

“I'm here,” you murmur, blinking several times.

Leaning in he presses a quick kiss to your lips, followed by another after a pause that doesn't stop so quickly, soft and gentle without losing any of his intensity. You follow his mouth as he pulls away, a wary expression on his face before unwrapping your arms from his shoulders. He takes a step back, steadying you when you feel as though you might fall. Adjusting his pants, he pulls up the zipper and reclasps his belt.

“Stay,” he says, and you feel glued to the spot as he walks over to the bar.

You can understand the impulse; you feel as though you need a drink after that experience, too. Wetting a tea towel from a pitcher of water, Yunho returns to where you perch on the desk. Gently wiping you clean, you hiss when he brushes over your clit, still throbbing and sensitive. He shushes you, finishing his task before tossing the towel in a nearby trash can.

It only occurs to you then that he didn't use a condom, and you know you were flying high not to protest. You're on the pill, but there could still be consequences, and –

Something weightless and free in your mind slows your train of thought, restoring your sense of calm. Everything would be fine.

You shiver, suddenly cold from the air in the room against your bare chest. You had nearly forgotten that you were only half-dressed, and your hands slowly fumble to pull your bra back together. Yunho gently takes your fingers away and does the task himself, sliding the clasp closed in the center. Pulling your blouse back over your shoulders, he fastens each button before adjusting it to sit properly. A warmth glows in your chest at the care he takes, feeling valued, feeling seen as his fingers brush against your skin.

“Was I good?” you ask, the need to know sinking into your skin, burrowing down deep into your bones.

“You were perfect, babygirl,” Yunho says, stroking your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “Absolutely perfect for me.”

Crouching down, Yunho slips your shoes back on each foot before stroking one hand up your calf, looking contemplative before rising to his feet. You watch as he lifts your phone case, left beside you on the desk, and opens the cover. Hesitating, he seems to come to a decision and holds it out to you to unlock. Once you do, you can see him pull up a new contact, saving it only under the symbol of a black spade before sending himself a text. Closing the cover, he sets it down and takes a small step back.

Reaching out, he toys with the necklace around your neck. “You'd look better in gold,” he says absently, dropping it back against your skin.

“You think so?” you ask, knowing the only gold piece you have in your grandmother's engagement ring on a sturdy chain. You never wear it for fear of losing it, hanging it over your dresser mirror instead.

“Definitely,” Yunho says with a nod, and you think you might just buy something with your next paycheck, even if it's only gold plated. Even if you never see him again, despite your number now being in his phone. Men never text.

“I'm going to have a car brought around for you,” he says, and you don't protest, despite wondering how he's going to accomplish that.

He must mean an Uber, you think, and decide not to protest. Sliding down off the desk, your legs feel wobbly, and you know you'll never manage the walk home on your own. You wish for a moment that he wanted to cuddle, maybe lie on one of the couches for a bit with his arms around you, but dismiss the thought as ridiculous. That isn't how things like this go, and you know it.

Yunho makes a call, speaking quietly enough that you barely catch a single word before he hangs up. Holding out your phone until you take it, he walks you to the door with a hand in the small of your back. Pausing briefly before opening it, he leans in to press a soft kiss to your cheek before quickly pulling away. Glancing out into the hallway, he ushers you through the doorway and down a few feet before stopping in front of another door, this one with a frosted glass panel in the top half. He opens it to reveal a flight of concrete stairs.

“Tell the gentleman by the exit that Yunho sends his regards,” he says. “That's important.”

You nod, reaching out to briefly touch his cheek before turning away. Keeping the sentence in the front of your mind, you begin to climb the stairs, hearing a sharp rebuke from behind you as the door begins to swing shut on pressurized hinges.

“Yunho,” a smooth male voice snaps. “I'm surprised at you.”

“What can I say, Mother?” he answers in a sly tone like the one he'd affected at the bar. “She wanted it bad.”

The door closes before you can hear anything else, and you ascend the rest of the stairs. A burly man sits by the door at the top, watching something on a tablet. He glances up and you hasten to repeat the phrase Yunho had given you. Nodding, he presses a button set into the wall. The door beside him opens outward into an alley lit by a single flickering bulb, but parked in front of you is a sleek black sedan.

Cautiously opening the back door, you peek your head inside. The driver, a woman probably in her forties, turns to glance at you and speaks your name as a question. You nod and slide into the soft, supple leather seat, glancing around. You don't recognize the logo imprinted on the faux woodgrain dashboard, but the dials and buttons before the driver look nearly space-age in their design.

You give her your address and she pulls out from the alley, making a right turn. It's no time at all before she arrives at your building, old but relatively well-kept. You feel embarrassed, letting her see that you don't live in some sleek, modern high rise to suit your borrowed mode of transportation. Then again, you think bitterly, she probably takes women home all the time smelling of liquor and sex, and they couldn't all be Page Six debutantes.

“Thank you,” you manage to say, opening the door to get out when she says your name, making you pause.

“He must really like you,” she offers, apparently reading the jealousy on your face. “I've never taken anyone home for him before.”

“You haven't?” you ask, knowing your tone sounds hopelessly earnest.

“Nope,” she says, shaking her head. “Just sayin’.”

“Thank you,” you say. “For the ride, and…for telling me.”

She nods and turns back around, content once again to mind her own business. You manage to find your way up to the third floor and get your keys in the lock, still feeling a bit dazed. Back within the familiar walls of your apartment, the events of the night suddenly seem difficult to believe. After kicking off your shoes, you stand in the kitchen with a glass of water in your hand for who knows how long before remembering to drink. The soreness between your legs attests to the truth; you just had the best sex of your life with a complete stranger, letting him do things you'd never even considered before, and then literally cried on his shoulder.

No wonder he'd sent you home immediately after.

Wandering into your bedroom, you curl up on top of your duvet and hug a pillow to your chest. Yunho. You already long for his touch again, gentle or harsh, it doesn't matter. It was pathetic either way. There’s no doubt in your mind that you'll never hear from him again, and you know you won't be able to show your face in his bar. Blinking away tears, exhaustion pulls you down, down, lost to fitful dreams until your alarm wakes you before the sun.

Hot water stings your skin, running over developing bruises as you shower before work. Standing before your mirror, your fingers trace the imprint of Yunho's teeth on your shoulder, fingerprints blooming dark across your hips. It was what you wanted, you tell yourself – wanted to remember the night, remember him. You know that long after the marks fade, you'll never be able to forget.

The day passes in a blur, running entirely on instinct as you dress for work and manage breakfast. You know the bouquets you make for customers aren't up to your usual standards, but no one says a word. Pricking your fingers on thorns more than once, you try to be more careful, try to feel present in your body, but never quite succeed. It’s still a surprise when the bud vase slips from your hands and shatters on the floor, stopping the world for a few silent heartbeats.

Bending down, you start to pick up the broken shards when another set of hands grabs onto your own. You hear your name as if from a distance, and realize it’s your boss, pulling you back. The blood in your palm is a surprise, having never felt the glass slice into your skin. Before long, you’re on your way to an urgent care for stitches, then home with your hand bandaged, several hours still left in your shift at work.

Just not feeling well, you explained. That was all. Nothing to worry about.

Skipping dinner, you fall back into bed fully clothed and sleep until long after dark, getting up long enough to go through your evening routine. Changing into a mismatched set of pajamas, you crawl back beneath the covers, clutching the small stuffed rabbit you could never bring yourself to part with. Even the softness of its fur doesn't bring you the comfort you want, that you need. You know only one thing will.

You wake with morning’s light, confused as to why your alarm didn’t go off. You vaguely remember dropping the vase, and your boss telling you to take today off. It felt nice, sleeping in, no matter the reason. Turning over, you reach out for your phone only to find a small, maroon velvet box in its place on your nightstand. Curiosity overrides the warning bells, ringing out that someone had been in your apartment while you slept. You pick it up, pushing yourself into a sitting position, and lift the lid.

Inside sits a small, hammered gold medallion with a spade imprinted in the center, a tiny opal winking to the side like a star. Lifting it out, you run the fine, delicate chain through your fingers before fastening it around your neck without hesitation. After all, you know who it’s from. You know what it means.

You belong to him.

Finding your phone moved only by a few inches, you pick it up and glance through your notifications. Still no texts. Snapping a photo of the pendant around your neck, you open up a new message and attach it. You hesitate only a moment before pressing send.

Thank you, you add, deciding not to ask how he found out your birthstone. You’re not sure you want to know. It’s beautiful.

Because it’s on you, the reply comes back. You wait while he types, then stops, then starts again. I’m glad you like it.

You should have woken me up, you type, deleting it before writing it out again. Acknowledging that he had watched you while you slept and left the necklace by your bed seems crazy, even more so to admit that it didn’t bother you.

It should definitely bother you. It doesn’t.

Next time I will, comes the response. I’m taking you to dinner tonight.

What should I wear? You hope his response isn’t anything formal.

Understated but elegant, he replies. Be ready at 7:00, I’ll send a car.

You nod, as if he can see you. Glancing around, you feel a strange shiver at the idea that he actually could. You’re not even sure you would mind.

Who are you really? you type out, knowing you won’t send the question. Some part of you is dying to know Yunho’s secrets, needs to know what you’ve gotten yourself into, but you won’t risk ruining it.

Shutting down the alarm bells one by one, you erase your question and type out a different reply.

I’ll be waiting.

yslkook

omg wait this was soooo good... the sub drop...the longing for a man to see her for who she is and be wanted and desired beyond reason...it was SOOOO good gonna be thinking about this forever

#fic rec #yunho x reader

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