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Spring Blooms Again | j.yh

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The petals danced in the wind like memories you wished would stop haunting you. Cherry blossom season used to be your favourite time of year—because it was his favourite, too.

You strolled quietly under the soft pink canopy, hands buried in your coat pockets, pretending your heart didn’t still flinch every time someone walked by wearing a long coat like his. You hadn’t seen him in months. Not since he said goodbye in that quiet, final way. “It’s not you. It’s the timing. I have to focus on my career now.”

But how were you supposed to move on when he was still in every love song, every night sky, every spring breeze?

"Y/N?"

You froze.

No. No way. That voice still echoed in your dreams.

You turned slowly, your heart leaping and betraying every ounce of strength you thought you had rebuilt.

There he was.

Yunho. Standing a few steps away, under the same cherry blossom tree where he once kissed you like the world was ending.

He looked different. A little thinner, a little tired, but his eyes—God, his eyes—still looked at you like you were his whole universe.

“I thought I saw you,” he said, voice low and tentative. “I’ve been hoping I’d run into you.”

You blinked, unsure if this was real.

“What do you want, Yunho?” you asked, trying to keep your voice steady.

“I—” He hesitated, then stepped closer. “I made a mistake.”

You stayed quiet.

“I thought I could let you go, focus on my career, be stronger for you in the long run. But every day without you just... hurts.” He laughed bitterly. “Every stage, every win, every moment... felt empty.”

Tears welled up in your eyes before you could stop them.

"You broke me, Yunho," you whispered. "You left when I needed you most."

“I know,” he choked. “I know. And I regret it every damn day.”

Silence stretched between you both as cherry blossoms fell like slow confessions.

You didn’t know what made you say it, but suddenly, "Come home with me.”

He looked shocked, eyes wide, as if he thought he’d never get the chance to hear that again.

But he followed you without hesitation.

your apartment was just like he remembered it. Only quieter. Colder.

He stepped inside cautiously, like he wasn’t sure he was allowed.

You turned to him the moment the door closed, emotions crashing into you like a tidal wave.

And then you were kissing.

Desperate. Hungry. All the words you couldn’t say came out in the way your fingers tangled in his hair, the way his hands roamed your body like he needed to memorize it all over again.

Your back hit the wall near the hallway as he pressed into you, lips trailing from your mouth to your jaw, then down your neck.

“I thought I’d forgotten what this felt like,” he murmured. “But I didn’t. Not even for a second.”

You let out a soft gasp as his teeth grazed your skin, hands slipping under your shirt and lifting it over your head. His touch was warm—almost too warm—and you leaned into it like a dying star craving light.

Clothes came off in a flurry, landing wherever they fell. By the time you reached your bedroom, you were bare and breathless, and Yunho was staring at you like he couldn’t believe you were real.

He pushed you gently onto the bed and climbed over you, every movement slow and full of reverence. His hands slid along your sides, fingers tracing every dip and curve, like he was worshipping every inch of you.

“You’re still the most beautiful thing I’ve ever seen,” he whispered, voice hoarse.

You pulled him down into a kiss, hips rising to meet his. The heat between your legs pulsed with need, and you let out a shaky breath as his fingers slipped down to touch you—slow, teasing strokes that made your thighs tremble.

“So wet for me,” he groaned. “God, I missed this. I missed you.”

You arched into his touch, moaning softly as his fingers circled your clit, then dipped lower—sliding into you, slow and deep.

Your body clenched around him instantly.

“Yunho—” you gasped, grabbing his shoulders, digging your nails into his skin.

He moved his fingers with a practiced rhythm, curling them just right as his mouth sucked and kissed your chest, tongue flicking over your nipple.

“Please,” you whimpered, bucking your hips. “I need you inside me.”

He kissed you deeply, pulling his fingers out and positioning himself at your entrance. He paused, eyes locked with yours.

“Are you sure?” he asked, chest heaving.

You nodded. “I’ve never been more sure.”

And then he pushed into you—slow, inch by inch—filling you completely. You gasped at the stretch, the perfect way he fit inside you, like he was made for you.

“Fuck,” he groaned, dropping his forehead against yours. “You feel so good.”

He began to move, slow at first, deep thrusts that made you moan with every stroke. His hips pressed flush against yours, his hand cupping the back of your neck as he kissed you hard, like he was trying to make up for every second he’d been gone.

“Say you’re mine,” he whispered against your lips.

“I’m yours,” you panted, wrapping your legs around his waist. “Always.”

His pace picked up, thrusts harder, deeper. The sound of skin against skin echoed in the room, along with the soft cries you let out every time he hit that perfect spot.

Your back arched as pleasure coiled tighter and tighter in your core.

“Yunho—I’m close,” you gasped.

He reached down and rubbed tight circles over your clit, eyes never leaving your face.

“Come for me, baby,” he groaned. “Let go.”

And you did—crashing into your climax with a cry of his name, body trembling beneath him. Your walls clenched around him, pulling him over the edge seconds later with a deep, guttural moan as he came inside you.

He collapsed against you, holding you tightly as you both caught your breath.

“I love you,” he murmured against your neck. “I never stopped.”

You ran your fingers through his hair, heart full in a way it hadn’t been in months.

"I love you too,” you whispered. “Just… don’t leave again.”

“Never,” he promised, lips brushing your collarbone. “Not even if the whole world begged me to.”

The cherry blossoms would fall again next year.

But this time, you wouldn’t be walking under them alone.

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The kingdom of Valtoria was a land of grandeur, its castles kissed by the sun and its rivers whispering secrets of ancient love. Yet, within its gilded halls, a love story unfolded—one that defied duty, challenged destiny, and was written in the stars long before the lovers even met.

Princess Y/N had spent her life preparing for duty. Every lesson, every whispered word from her tutors, had sculpted her into the perfect queen—the kind who put her people before herself, who followed tradition without question. She had been raised to understand that love was a luxury, not a necessity.

But no lesson had prepared her for Prince Yunho.

He arrived at the Valtorian palace in the bloom of spring, his presence commanding yet effortlessly warm. Unlike the stiff, formal nobles she had grown accustomed to, Yunho carried himself with ease. He was charming, yes, but not in the practiced way of court politicians. His kindness was not a tool but a truth.

Their first meeting was nothing remarkable—just a fleeting exchange in the castle gardens, a courteous greeting. Yet, the way he looked at her, as if he had already read every page of her heart, left her breathless.

And then, there was his voice, rich and smooth like honeyed wine. “It is an honor to finally meet the princess whose name carries the weight of legend.”

She had laughed, surprised by his playfulness. “I hope the legend is not too disappointing in person.”

His gaze held hers, deep and unwavering. “Quite the opposite.”

What began as polite conversations soon turned into something far more dangerous. They met in secret corners of the palace, beneath the grand chandeliers of royal banquets, where stolen glances spoke louder than words. They exchanged letters, hidden in books and carried by trusted hands, each word laced with longing.

Yunho was different from any man she had ever known. He did not view her as a pawn to be played in the great game of politics. To him, she was not just a princess, but a person—with dreams, desires, and fears.

One evening, as they stood in the palace’s moonlit courtyard, Yunho took her hand. “Tell me something true,” he whispered.

She hesitated. Truth was dangerous in their world.

But under his gaze, she felt safe. “I wish I were not a princess.”

His fingers tightened around hers. “And I wish I had met you in another life—one where we were free to love without consequence.”

But love, no matter how powerful, could not erase duty. Y/N was betrothed to another—a man chosen not for love, but for alliance. The engagement was meant to unite Valtoria and Rhenmere, ensuring peace between the two great kingdoms.

Yunho, though a prince, was not her intended. His elder brother was. And in their world, love did not overrule duty.

As the wedding day drew closer, the weight of expectation pressed down on her, suffocating. At night, she lay awake, haunted by the knowledge that she would soon stand at the altar with a man she did not love, while the one who held her heart would be forced to watch in silence.

One evening, in the hidden solace of the castle library, Yunho found her sitting by the window, lost in thought.

“I cannot bear this,” she confessed, tears threatening to spill. “Every step I take leads me further from you.”

He knelt before her, taking her hands in his. “Then let us find another path.”

“But how?” she whispered. “My fate is already written.”

He lifted her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss against her fingers. “Then let us rewrite it.”

Their love was not destined to remain a secret forever. Whispers of their stolen moments reached the ears of the court, and soon, the king himself summoned Yunho.

“I have been patient with your indiscretions,” the king warned. “But love is not a privilege princes can afford. Your duty is to your family, to your kingdom.”

Yunho’s jaw tightened. “And what of her duty to herself? What of her heart?”

The king’s eyes were cold. “A queen does not follow her heart. She follows her duty.”

That night, Y/N and Yunho met in the royal gardens, knowing their time was slipping away. The stars above seemed to weep with them, their silver light casting long shadows across the marble pathways.

“I cannot ask you to fight for something that will only bring you pain,” she whispered, her fingers trailing over his cheek. “I love you too much to see you suffer.”

His hands cupped her face, his touch desperate, reverent. “Then let me suffer. If it means loving you, I would endure every pain, every consequence.”

She closed her eyes, leaning into his embrace. “If only love were enough.”

He kissed her then, slow and deep, as if trying to etch the memory into his very soul. A promise. A vow. No matter what the world demanded of them, their love would remain.

The wedding day arrived, but fate had other plans. A political scandal rocked the royal court—Y/N’s betrothed was caught in a conspiracy against the throne, his betrayal laid bare before the kingdom. The engagement was annulled, the alliance shattered.

And through the storm, Yunho remained by her side.

As the dust settled, the royal council convened. With no heir to marry, a new union was proposed—one that would strengthen the kingdom and honor the people’s wishes.

One that would finally bring Y/N and Yunho together.

The grand halls of the palace were adorned with gold and ivory, the scent of fresh roses filling the air as the kingdom gathered to witness their beloved princess wed the man she had fought so hard to love. As Y/N walked down the aisle, her gown shimmering like stardust, she locked eyes with Yunho, whose smile was brighter than the sun itself.

When he took her hands in his, there was no hesitation, no fear—only love, pure and unwavering. “With this vow,” Yunho said, his voice steady, “I promise to love you in this life and the next, until the stars themselves fade from the sky.”

Tears shimmered in her eyes as she whispered, “And I vow to stand beside you, as your queen, your partner, and the keeper of your heart.”

As they sealed their promises with a kiss, the kingdom erupted into cheers, celebrating the love that had defied all odds.

The years passed, and their love only grew stronger. In the quiet moments, away from the eyes of the court, they found solace in each other’s arms. Their kingdom thrived under their rule, their bond an unshakable force.

And then, one evening, as the sun set over the palace gardens, Y/N watched as Yunho knelt before their twin children, laughter spilling from their lips as he crowned them with flower tiaras.

She smiled, her heart full.

“You’ve given me everything,” she whispered.

Yunho turned to her, his expression soft. “No, my love. You were my everything, long before the world allowed us to be.”

And as their children ran toward them, their laughter filling the air, Y/N knew—love had truly conquered all.

For theirs was a love that would echo through history, whispered in the winds, sung by the stars, and cherished for all eternity.

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The rain poured the night you let go.

You stood in the dim glow of streetlights, your jacket pulled tightly around you, but it did nothing to stop the cold sinking into your bones. Yunho stood across from you, his hair damp, hands clenched at his sides.

“You’re really leaving?” His voice was quiet, but you could hear everything in it—disbelief, hurt, the desperate hope that you’d change your mind.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “You are too.”

“That’s different.” His jaw tensed. “I asked you to come with me.”

You let out a shaky breath. “And I asked you to stay.”

Yunho shut his eyes briefly, his lips pressing into a tight line. “You know I can’t.”

“And I can’t follow you.” Your voice cracked despite your best effort. “You and I both know what happens if we try to force this.”

His hands curled into fists at his sides. “It’s not forcing it, Y/N. It’s fighting for it.”

Your heart twisted. “Yunho—”

“I love you,” he blurted out, raw and desperate. “That hasn’t changed. That won’t change.”

Tears stung your eyes. “I love you too.”

“Then why are we doing this?” His voice broke, and that was the worst part—he was always the strong one. Always the one who could smile through anything. But not now. Not when it came to this.

You stepped forward, reaching for his hand. He let you, gripping your fingers like a lifeline. “Because love isn’t always enough,” you whispered.

The rain fell harder. The silence between you was deafening.

And then, with a deep, shaky breath, Yunho reached up, cradling your face between his hands. His thumbs brushed away the tears slipping down your cheeks. “Then let me kiss you one last time.”

You nodded, unable to speak.

His lips met yours in a slow, lingering kiss—one filled with everything left unsaid. The taste of rain, salt, and regret. Your fingers curled into the fabric of his jacket, memorizing the feeling of him one last time, because after this…

It would be over.

When you finally pulled away, Yunho rested his forehead against yours, eyes closed.

“Goodbye, Y/N.”

You took a step back. Then another.

And then, you turned and walked away.

6 years later

The café was quiet, the kind of place where people disappeared into their own little worlds. You were staring at your laptop, barely aware of the sound of the door chiming—until you heard a voice.

Familiar. Too familiar.

“…Y/N?”

Your heart stopped.

You looked up, and there he was. Older. Taller. More refined, but still undeniably Yunho. His hair was shorter, his frame broader, but his eyes… they held the same warmth. The same fire.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

And then he smiled.

Not the polite kind. Not the distant kind.

The kind that made your chest ache.

“You still take your coffee the same way,” he said, gesturing to the cup in front of you. “Some things never change.”

You swallowed hard, searching for words. “Neither do you.”

“That’s not true.” His voice was softer now. “A lot has changed.”

You knew what he meant.

Time had passed. Life had moved on. You were both different people now—weren’t you?

And yet, when he sat down across from you, when his fingers brushed yours as he reached for his cup, when he looked at you like he was still memorizing your face—

It didn’t feel like years had passed.

It felt like yesterday.

a year later

The morning sunlight spilled through the bedroom window, casting a warm glow over the sheets. You stirred slightly, feeling a familiar warmth beside you.

A strong arm tightened around your waist, pulling you closer.

“Five more minutes,” Yunho mumbled against your skin, his voice laced with sleep.

You chuckled softly. “You say that every morning.”

“And yet, every morning, you still let me.” His lips brushed against your shoulder before he finally opened his eyes. “Morning.”

You turned in his arms, reaching up to push his messy hair away from his forehead. “Morning.”

He smiled at you, lazy and content—the kind of smile that only comes from knowing you were exactly where you were meant to be.

It had taken years. Painful years.

But you had found your way back to each other.

And this time, you weren’t letting go.

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The first time you saw him again, it felt like a cruel joke.

Standing on the dimly lit set, the director’s voice was distant noise as your pulse roared in your ears. Jeong Yunho.

Your co-star.

Your one-night mistake.

His gaze flickered when he saw you—just for a second. But you caught it. The way his fingers curled at his sides, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. He remembered.

Three months ago. A night of tangled sheets, whispered moans, and a pleasure so consuming it left you breathless. A night that ended with nothing but silence between you. No calls. No messages. No need for closure.

And now, here he was.

“Looks like we’ll be working together,” Yunho said, his voice smooth, controlled. A performance.

You swallowed. “Yeah… looks like it.”

The script in your hands felt heavier. A psychological thriller. The story of an actor who becomes obsessed with their co-star, the lines between reality and fiction blurring until neither knows where the act ends.

As rehearsals began, you noticed something unsettling.

Yunho played his role too well.

Every glance burned. Every scripted touch lingered longer than necessary. The story called for tension, for forbidden desire—but when he pressed you against a wall, his breath hot against your ear, his body flush against yours, you felt something more dangerous than method acting.

“Cut!” the director yelled.

But Yunho didn’t move.

Your breath hitched. “You’re taking this seriously.”

His eyes dragged over your face, dark with something unreadable. “Maybe because I remember exactly how you sound when you want something.”

Your stomach twisted. The heat between you wasn’t fiction. It wasn’t scripted. And you weren’t the only one feeling it.

That night, you were the last to leave set. Or so you thought.

The dressing room door clicked shut behind you.

A slow inhale.

A presence.

You turned—and Yunho was there.

His eyes were unreadable in the dim light, his body tense, as if fighting something within himself. “We need to talk.”

You exhaled shakily. “Now you want to talk?”

Yunho stepped forward, closing the distance, his scent—clean, warm, familiar—wrapping around you. “I didn’t expect to see you here,” he admitted. “Didn’t expect to still—” He cut himself off, jaw clenching.

You licked your lips, pulse hammering. “Still what?”

He didn’t answer. He just reached for you, fingers grazing your wrist before sliding up to cup your jaw. It was the same touch from that night. The same heat, the same intensity that had burned you from the inside out.

And when he kissed you, it wasn’t slow.

It was hunger.

A collision of teeth and tongues, of pent-up frustration and something neither of you wanted to name. Your back hit the dressing room counter, scripts and makeup tumbling to the floor.

Yunho lifted you onto the surface, standing between your legs as his hands gripped your thighs, pulling you against him.

“You drive me fucking crazy,” he muttered against your skin, lips dragging down your neck.

You fisted his shirt, breathing heavily. “Then do something about it.”

He did.

Clothes fell away in the rush, the dim light casting shadows over taut muscles and bare skin. His hands traced familiar paths, relearning, rediscovering.

When he sank to his knees in front of you, a shiver ran down your spine. His lips ghosted over your inner thigh, his fingers pressing into your skin, holding you open.

“Yunho—”

“Shh.” His voice was dark, a low command that made your breath catch.

Then his tongue was on you.

A sharp gasp left your lips, your fingers gripping the edge of the counter as he worked you open with slow, deliberate strokes, dragging pleasure out of you until your head fell back.

Yunho was relentless. Precise. The way he licked, sucked, nipped—he still remembered exactly how to unravel you. And when his fingers curled inside you, pressing against the spot that made your whole body jolt, you nearly sobbed.

“Still so sensitive,” he murmured, his voice thick with satisfaction. “You gonna come for me?”

You nodded, breathless, barely holding on.

But then he pulled away.

A frustrated whine escaped you, but Yunho only smirked, standing up to claim your lips in a kiss that tasted like sin.

Then he lined himself up, teasing, dragging himself through your slick folds before pressing in.

A shuddering breath left you both as he filled you, stretching you open in a way that felt almost too much, too deep.

He didn’t wait.

The first thrust stole your breath, the second made you clutch at his shoulders. By the third, you weren’t sure where you ended and he began.

Yunho’s grip was bruising, his pace merciless, as if he was trying to erase the months apart, to carve himself into you all over again.

And when he reached down between you, fingers circling your clit, the pleasure crashed over you so hard your vision went white.

You barely registered Yunho’s low groan as he followed, his body shuddering against yours.

The only sound in the room was the heavy rise and fall of your breathing.

For a moment, neither of you spoke.

Then Yunho’s lips brushed against your temple, his voice a whisper against your skin.

“This time… I’m not letting you disappear.”

Your breath hitched.

Because the way he said it… it wasn’t just desire.

It was a promise.

A warning.

A week later, you caught him watching you after a scene.

Another heated moment on set, another electric exchange that felt more real than it should. But this time, Yunho didn’t look away.

Instead, he walked right up to you, cupped your face, and kissed you—right there, in front of the cast and crew.

Gasps. Shocked murmurs.

But Yunho didn’t care.

When he pulled back, he smirked. “Guess the secret’s out.”

Your heart raced. “You’re insane.”

He leaned in, brushing his lips over yours again. “Only for you.”

And just like that, you knew.

This wasn’t just an obsession.

It was real.

Pairing: Yunho x Reader

Genre: Horror, Smut (a little bit), Psychological Thriller

Warnings: Noncon/dubcon themes, obsessive behavior, stalking, violence, manipulation, yandere Yunho

Word Count: 2,992 words.

Your first mistake was not noticing him sooner.

You had always been the type to keep to yourself, working late shifts, returning to your apartment just before the city drowned in silence. It made you an easy target. Vulnerable. Alone. He had watched you from the shadows, lurking just out of sight, memorizing every habit, every move.

Yunho had always been there. Behind you in grocery store lines, watching from across the street, his fingers twitching at his sides whenever you passed by without acknowledging him. But he was patient. He knew obsession was a slow-growing sickness, and he had let it fester until the hunger was unbearable.

Tonight, he wouldn’t wait any longer.

You barely had time to react when you unlocked your apartment door and stepped inside. The moment the lock clicked shut, an arm wrapped around your waist, and a warm, calloused hand clamped over your mouth before you could scream. A deep voice whispered in your ear, shivering against your skin.

“You’ve ignored me for so long, sweetheart. Did you think I wouldn’t come for you?”

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears as you thrashed, but Yunho was strong—far too strong. He pressed you against the wall, his body caging yours, his breathing ragged like he had waited forever for this moment. His fingers slid from your mouth to your throat, not squeezing but just resting there, feeling your pulse hammer beneath his palm.

“Do you know how long I’ve wanted you?” he murmured, his lips ghosting over your ear, down to your jaw, the heat of his breath making you shudder. “How many nights I stood outside, watching you sleep, imagining how soft you’d feel under me?”

Tears welled in your eyes as you struggled, but Yunho only chuckled, pressing his thigh between your legs, forcing you still. “Don’t fight me,” he cooed. “I’ve already decided—you’re mine now.”

When his lips crashed against yours, it was violent, possessive. His tongue pushed into your mouth, swallowing your muffled whimpers as he pinned your wrists above your head. Every touch was a brand against your skin, every rough grind of his body against yours making your stomach twist with a mixture of fear and something darker—something you didn’t want to acknowledge.

“You’re trembling,” he mused, dragging his tongue along your throat before nipping at the skin hard enough to leave a mark. “Are you scared… or do you like this?”

His hands moved down, slipping under your shirt, palming your waist before dipping lower. You gasped, back arching against him, and Yunho groaned. “That’s it. Give in to me, sweetheart. I’ll take such good care of you.”

His words were sick, twisted—but so was the fire curling in your gut as his fingers dipped beneath the waistband of your shorts.

And in that moment, with Yunho’s breath hot against your skin and his grip unrelenting, you knew one thing for sure.

You would never escape him.

You were his.

Forever.

Your breath came in short, desperate gasps, your body caught between fear and something far more treacherous as Yunho’s fingers toyed with the waistband of your shorts. You wanted to fight—your mind screamed at you to fight—but your body betrayed you, locked in place by the weight of his presence.

Yunho hummed, amused by your hesitation. “Look at you,” he murmured, dragging his tongue along the curve of your throat before sinking his teeth into your skin. You whimpered, and he groaned. “You’re already mine, sweetheart. There’s no need to pretend otherwise.”

Before you could speak—before you could even think—Yunho spun you around and shoved you against the wall, pressing his body against yours. His fingers twisted into your hair, yanking your head back to force you to meet his gaze. His eyes, usually warm and gentle when you had seen him around town, were now dark with something much more dangerous.

“You never noticed me, did you?” His grip tightened slightly, just enough to make you whimper. “Not when I followed you home. Not when I stood outside your window at night. Not when I watched you touch yourself, thinking you were alone.”

Your stomach dropped. A sick feeling curled in your gut, horror creeping up your spine like a cold hand. “You’re lying,” you whispered, but your voice shook.

Yunho chuckled, the sound low and predatory. “Am I?” He let go of your hair, but only so he could grab your wrists, pinning them behind your back with one hand. His free hand trailed down your stomach, slipping under your shorts with agonizing slowness. “I know everything about you,” he purred. “What makes you shiver, what makes you weak.” His fingers dipped lower, brushing over your panties, and you bit your lip, refusing to give him any reaction.

That only seemed to amuse him more. “Still pretending?” he mused. “That’s alright. You’ll break soon enough.”

With a flick of his wrist, Yunho pulled a knife from his pocket. You barely had time to react before he pressed the cool blade against your throat—not hard enough to cut, but enough to make your pulse spike.

“Please…” you breathed, though you weren’t even sure what you were begging for.

Yunho grinned, his lips brushing over your ear. “Say you’re mine.”

Tears pricked your eyes. “Yunho, please—”

The knife pressed just a little harder, a silent warning. “Say it.”

Your throat tightened. Every nerve in your body screamed at you to resist, to fight—but deep down, you knew. There was no escaping him.

You swallowed hard, the words tasting like poison on your tongue.

“…I’m yours.”

Yunho groaned, his grip tightening as he rutted against you, his breath hot against your ear. “That’s my good girl.”

And then the knife was gone, discarded carelessly as Yunho lifted you into his arms and carried you to the bed.

And the night was just beginning.

Yunho didn’t rush.

He wanted you to feel everything—every touch, every whisper, every second of helplessness. He moved with purpose, dragging you into his world inch by inch, until you forgot what life had felt like before his presence consumed you.

The bed creaked beneath you as he hovered above, his fingers brushing over your trembling skin. He had stripped you down to nothing but vulnerability, your body pliant beneath his firm grip. His gaze burned, drinking you in like he had been waiting for this moment his entire life. And maybe he had.

His hand caressed your cheek, deceptively gentle. “You’re so beautiful like this,” he murmured, his thumb tracing over your parted lips. “Mine.”

That word again. Yours. His. Like you had ever been given a choice.

A shudder wracked through your body as Yunho pressed his lips to your throat, kissing over the bruises he had already left. His hands roamed, exploring, teasing, claiming. He worshiped you with his touch while simultaneously tearing you apart with his possession.

“You don’t have to be scared,” he whispered, lips brushing against your collarbone. “I’ll take care of you. Love you.” His voice darkened. “Even if you don’t want me to.”

His grip tightened as he pinned your wrists above your head, binding them with something soft—fabric? A tie? You barely registered what it was before his mouth was on yours again, stealing your breath, swallowing your whimpers.

It was overwhelming. Heat, fear, need—a tangled mess of emotions you didn’t want to admit to.

Yunho groaned against your lips, rolling his hips against yours, teasing, pushing, taking. “You feel it, don’t you?” he murmured, his breath hot against your skin. “You were always meant to be mine.”

And in that moment, as darkness swirled around you and Yunho’s obsession wrapped around your soul like chains—maybe he was right.

Maybe you had never stood a chance.

Time lost all meaning in the confines of Yunho’s apartment.

It was as though the world outside had disappeared completely. The outside noises—traffic, voices, the buzz of the city—were muffled by the thick walls, swallowed up by the sickeningly quiet air that surrounded you. The only sound you could focus on was Yunho’s breath, warm and steady against your skin as he loomed over you.

You had no sense of time anymore. Hours? Days? Minutes? It all bled together. What you did know was that you couldn’t escape him. Not physically, not mentally. He had planted himself in your mind, and every time you tried to think of a way out, he was there, in the back of your thoughts, watching.

“You belong here,” Yunho murmured softly, his voice almost soothing in its dark intensity. He was sitting beside you, his fingers brushing over the tangled mess of your hair as you lay motionless, staring up at the ceiling. “I won’t let you leave. Not now. Not ever.”

You didn’t respond. What was the point? Words felt useless against his presence. Your throat tightened whenever you tried to speak, and your heart ached with the knowledge that no matter what you said, it wouldn’t make a difference. He wasn’t listening to you.

He never had been.

The nights blurred together. You couldn’t remember when he had first held you down and made you admit you were his, or when his touch had crossed the line from terrifying to almost comforting. Maybe it had always been this way—slow, insidious, like a disease creeping through your veins.

“You should rest,” Yunho would say in his calm, almost affectionate tone, pressing a hand to your forehead like you were nothing more than a fragile thing to be cared for. But the way he said it was always so cold, so possessive. It wasn’t kindness, not really. It was control disguised as affection.

You didn’t trust him.

But there were moments—small, fleeting moments—where you felt a strange pull toward him. When his fingers grazed your skin, tracing the curves of your body as if you were something delicate, something precious he was protecting. In those moments, it almost felt like you could let go, like the world outside was so far away that it no longer mattered.

But those moments never lasted.

Every time your guard slipped, Yunho’s true nature would come crashing back in. He’d look at you with eyes full of hunger, not love. Not tenderness. Just dark, obsessive need. “You’ll never leave me,” he would whisper, his breath ghosting over your ear. “Not when you know what it feels like to be mine.”

His touch would grow more insistent, his body pressing against yours in a way that made you shiver—not with desire, but with something far more primal, far more terrifying.

He was playing with you.

And you were too scared to resist.

It wasn’t long before you realized the truth. He was breaking you down, piece by piece. He didn’t need to hurt you to control you; all he had to do was make you feel like you couldn’t survive without him.

“You’re afraid of me,” Yunho would say, his voice low, almost tender. “But you’re more afraid of being alone, aren’t you?”

You couldn’t deny it. Being alone was worse than anything he could do to you.

“You’ll learn to love me,” he whispered once, tracing the curve of your jaw with his finger. “It’ll hurt at first. But eventually… you’ll crave it.”

And part of you—just a tiny, twisted part—wondered if he was right.

You had been his obsession for so long. Would you ever be able to escape?

Or were you already lost to him?

The days stretched on, and with each passing moment, the tension between you and Yunho grew more suffocating. But there was something else too—a shift. A crack in the armor of his obsession that you couldn’t quite explain. It started with the smallest of things, unnoticeable at first.

He didn’t yell anymore. He didn’t grip you with such force that it left bruises, and he didn’t look at you with the cold, calculating hunger that used to make your skin crawl. There were moments when Yunho would simply sit beside you in silence, his gaze softening as he stared at you like you were something precious, something worth protecting.

It made you uneasy at first. What was this? Was it some new manipulation, a way to keep you under his control? Or was it something else entirely—something deeper, something he didn’t understand about himself?

The change didn’t come all at once. It wasn’t some miraculous, overnight shift. It was slow, painful, and gradual, like a person waking from a long, twisted dream.

One evening, you found yourself sitting at the small dining table in Yunho’s apartment. You hadn’t spoken for hours, both of you lost in your own thoughts. The silence between you felt different—less oppressive, almost peaceful.

“I’m sorry,” Yunho said suddenly, his voice breaking through the stillness.

You froze. You hadn’t heard him apologize once since this whole nightmare had begun.

His hands trembled slightly as he rested them on the table, his head down, avoiding your gaze. “I never wanted to hurt you. I know I did. And I… I don’t know how to fix it.”

For the first time in what felt like forever, you saw vulnerability in his eyes—something raw, something that didn’t belong to the possessive monster who had haunted your every waking moment.

“I—I don’t know if you can fix it,” you whispered, your voice shaky. You had wanted to say more, to scream, to demand answers, but the words were too heavy, too tangled in your throat. “What you did, what you’ve done to me…”

Yunho looked at you then, his eyes filled with such intensity, such remorse, that you almost didn’t recognize him. “I didn’t know how to love you,” he admitted, his voice raw. “I thought… I thought I had to make you mine by force, but I was wrong. I see that now. You don’t belong to me. You’re your own person, and I’ve been trying to control you instead of care for you.”

The confession hit you harder than you expected. Yunho, the man who had once haunted your every step, was finally acknowledging the darkness within himself. And, perhaps, he was starting to fight it.

“You’re not the monster I thought you were,” you whispered, your voice breaking as you looked at him—really looked at him. “You’ve hurt me, but I can’t help but see the person beneath all of this. I… I don’t know if I can forgive you, not yet. But I see you trying.”

Yunho’s lips trembled as he reached across the table, his hand hovering just above yours. His touch was tentative, hesitant, as if he was afraid you would pull away. Slowly, you let your fingers brush against his, the smallest spark of connection between you.

“I’m so sorry,” he whispered again, and this time, it felt real. “I’ll never hurt you again. If you’ll give me the chance, I want to show you that I can be better. I want to be better for you.”

The room seemed to hold its breath as you met his gaze. The darkness that had once consumed him was still there, lurking in the depths of his soul—but it wasn’t all that remained. There was something else now. Hope, maybe. A fragile, tentative hope that maybe, just maybe, he could change.

“I don’t know if I can trust you yet,” you said softly, your voice trembling with the weight of your decision. “But… maybe we can start over. Slowly. I need time, Yunho.”

His eyes softened as he nodded, his grip on your hand gentle, his thumb brushing across your knuckles in a silent promise. “I’ll give you all the time you need.”

And as the silence settled over you both, it felt different now. Less suffocating, less oppressive. There was no force, no pressure. Just a fragile possibility, a chance for healing.

For the first time in a long while, you let yourself believe in the possibility of something better. A future. Maybe with Yunho, maybe without. But the idea that you could choose, that you had the power to decide your own fate again, filled you with something you hadn’t felt in a long time: freedom.

And with that, the darkness that had once ruled your life began to lose its grip. It didn’t disappear entirely, but you had reclaimed a part of yourself. And maybe, in time, Yunho would learn to heal the parts of himself that were broken.

Maybe, together, you could find redemption.

Days Later

The scars of the past didn’t fade overnight.

At first, you weren’t sure how to exist outside of Yunho’s grasp. Even after he let you leave, even after he gave you the key to the apartment and told you that you were free to go whenever you wanted, it still didn’t feel real.

He didn’t stop you when you packed a small bag and stepped out into the cold night. He didn’t chase you when you hesitated at the door, looking back one last time.

“I meant what I said,” Yunho had murmured, his eyes filled with something unrecognizable—guilt, longing, sorrow. “You’re free now.”

And yet, you hadn’t run as far as you thought you would.

You had every right to hate him. The fear, the suffocation, the helplessness—none of it could be erased. But in the time you spent away from him, trying to reclaim the pieces of yourself that he had taken, one truth became harder and harder to ignore.

Yunho was trying.

And it wasn’t an act.

You saw it in the way he avoided you at first, keeping his distance as if afraid his presence alone would shatter you. You saw it in the way he never looked at you with that obsessive hunger anymore, only a quiet, aching regret.

And, perhaps most importantly, you saw it in the way he let you go.

But you came back.

At first, it was accidental—running into him at a café, where he had been sitting alone, staring blankly into his coffee. The moment his eyes met yours, he stiffened, ready to leave, ready to spare you the pain of facing him again.

But you had surprised yourself by sitting down across from him.

Neither of you spoke for a long time.

Finally, he had whispered, “Why are you here?”

And you had no answer.

Not yet.

But that meeting led to another. And another. Small conversations. Careful interactions. A slow, hesitant rebuilding of something fragile, something new. Yunho never touched you without permission. He never made you feel like his possession. He never once demanded anything from you.

He let you set the pace.

And for the first time, you saw Yunho for who he really was—not the monster who had taken you, but the broken man beneath it all. A man who had confused obsession with love. A man who had learned, too late, the weight of his own darkness.

A man who, despite everything, had only ever wanted to love you.

One evening, under the soft glow of streetlights, he finally spoke the words that had been hanging between you both.

“I don’t deserve you.” His voice was quiet, thick with emotion. “But I want to be someone who does.”

You had expected that moment to be terrifying, but instead, it felt… safe. Because for the first time, Yunho wasn’t trying to take. He was offering.

A choice.

And you made it.

It wasn’t perfect. It would never be easy. There were nights when the memories still haunted you, when the past still curled around your throat like a ghost. But Yunho never pushed, never overstepped. He waited, patient, willing to let you come to him on your own terms.

And when you finally reached for him—when you kissed him for the first time, not out of fear, but out of something real—he trembled beneath your touch.

Because this time, you weren’t his because he had taken you.

You were his because you had chosen to be.

And that made all the difference.

San x f!reader

Genre: Smut, Romance

Warning: 18+

Word Count: 1,300 words.

Summary: San and you share a passionate and intense encounter, followed by gentle aftercare. He takes control during the moment, but afterward, he shows tenderness, ensuring you’re comfortable and cared for as you rest in his arms.

The rain drummed steadily against the windows, a soft yet relentless rhythm that matched the storm brewing between you and San. The room was dimly lit, the city lights casting a golden hue over his sharp features as he leaned against the doorframe, watching you with dark, unreadable eyes.

“You keep looking at me like that,” you murmured, feeling the heat of his gaze crawl over your skin.

San tilted his head, a slow, knowing smirk pulling at his lips. “Like what?”

“Like you’re about to ruin me.”

That was all it took.

He was on you in seconds, pressing you against the cool surface of the wall, his hands sliding under your shirt, fingers tracing fire across your bare skin. His breath was warm against your ear, lips brushing teasingly as he whispered, “You have no idea.”

The first kiss was deep—possessive. His lips moved against yours like he was trying to claim you, tongue slipping past the barrier of your lips to taste, to dominate. His hands gripped your hips tightly, guiding you flush against him, and you could feel every inch of how much he wanted you.

“You drive me crazy,” he growled against your lips, biting down just enough to make you gasp.

Your fingers tangled in his hair, tugging, and he groaned in response, pressing his body harder against yours. His thigh slotted between your legs, the pressure making your breath hitch.

“San—”

“Shh,” he hushed you, trailing kisses down your jaw to your throat, where he sucked and bit, leaving his mark. “I want to hear you, but only when you’re begging.”

A shiver ran down your spine at the promise laced in his voice. He lifted you effortlessly, carrying you to the bed, where he wasted no time stripping you down, his eyes darkening as he took in the sight of you laid bare before him.

“Perfect,” he murmured, running his hands along your thighs before parting them. He looked up at you, waiting, giving you a moment to back out. But you only reached for him, pulling him down into another hungry kiss.

“Then show me.”

And he did.

San’s eyes darkened with something primal, his smirk fading as his lips crashed against yours again—hot, desperate, and all-consuming. His body was a furnace above you, the muscles beneath his shirt tense as he pressed you deeper into the mattress.

His hands roamed over your body, fingertips tracing every curve, every dip, as if memorizing the way you felt beneath him. His touch was slow at first, teasing, but you could feel his restraint unraveling with each ragged breath he took.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against your skin, his voice husky with desire. He trailed kisses down your neck, his tongue flicking out to taste the spots that made you shiver.

You arched into him, nails digging into his shoulders. “San, please—”

A low chuckle rumbled from his chest. “Already begging?” He leaned back slightly, his eyes filled with pure hunger as he took in your flushed, needy expression. “I’ve barely touched you yet.”

His hands traveled lower, gliding over your stomach before settling between your thighs. He dragged his fingers teasingly against your core, the friction just enough to make you whimper.

“You’re already so wet for me,” he murmured, lips ghosting over your collarbone. “Is this what I do to you?”

You nodded, breath hitching as he pressed his fingers harder against you. “San, please—stop teasing.”

His smirk returned, but there was something darker behind it now—something that sent a wave of anticipation straight to your core. “Oh, sweetheart,” he purred, slipping a finger inside you, curling it just right. “You don’t get to rush me.”

A moan escaped your lips, your back arching as he moved with agonizing precision. He added another finger, stretching you, coaxing out every sound he wanted to hear. His thumb circled your clit, his pace unrelenting but controlled, driving you to the edge without letting you fall.

“That’s it,” he whispered, his voice dripping with satisfaction. “Let me hear you.”

Your hands fisted the sheets as pleasure coiled tight in your stomach. “San, I—I’m close—”

But just as you were about to tip over the edge, he pulled away completely, leaving you trembling, breathless.

“San!” you whined, glaring up at him.

He only chuckled, dragging his shirt over his head, revealing the sculpted planes of his chest. His eyes met yours, dark and dangerous. “Don’t worry, baby,” he murmured, undoing his belt. “I’m nowhere near done with you.”

San’s eyes burned with unspoken desire as he shrugged off his shirt, his toned body illuminated by the soft glow of the city lights filtering through the window. His gaze never left yours, watching every rise and fall of your chest, every twitch of anticipation coursing through you.

The slow clink of his belt unfastening sent a fresh wave of heat through your body. Your breath hitched as he slid his jeans down, his movements deliberate, controlled—like he was savoring the moment, enjoying the way you writhed under his gaze, already desperate for him.

“You look so fucking perfect like this,” he murmured, voice thick with hunger. He climbed back over you, caging you beneath him, his bare skin pressing against yours, igniting a fire where you touched.

Your hands roamed over his back, nails dragging lightly over the defined muscles. He shuddered, his control slipping for a moment as he dipped his head to capture his lips crashed against yours again, deeper this time, filled with raw hunger. His body pressed firmly against yours, his heat enveloping you, making you feel like you were drowning in him.

San’s hands traced down your sides, his touch rough yet reverent. He nudged your legs apart with his knee, positioning himself between them, his hardness pressing against your soaked core. A low groan rumbled in his chest at the feeling, his restraint hanging by a thread.

“You ready for me, sweetheart?” he murmured against your lips, his voice thick with need.

“Yes,” you breathed, your nails digging into his shoulders, urging him closer. “Please, San—”

That was all he needed. He lined himself up, his tip teasing your entrance before slowly pushing in, stretching you inch by inch. A deep, guttural moan escaped his lips as he buried himself inside you, his forehead dropping to yours as he let you adjust.

“Fuck,” he growled, his hands gripping your thighs, holding himself back from thrusting too fast, too hard. “You’re so tight—feel so good.”

Your breath came in shaky gasps as you clung to him, feeling completely full, completely consumed. “Move, San,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

His control snapped.

He pulled back before slamming into you, setting a deep, punishing rhythm. Each thrust sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, his name falling from your lips like a prayer. His grip tightened on your hips as he pounded into you, his movements desperate, like he was trying to lose himself in you.

“You’re mine,” he growled against your neck, biting down just enough to leave a mark. “Say it.”

“I’m yours,” you gasped, nails raking down his back. “Only yours.”

A dark, satisfied smirk crossed his lips before he captured your mouth in another searing kiss. His thrusts became erratic, his breathing ragged as he chased his release, dragging you right along with him.

“Come for me,” he commanded, his fingers finding your clit, rubbing tight circles that sent you spiraling over the edge. Your body clenched around him, your release crashing through you like a tidal wave, and with a few more deep thrusts, San groaned, spilling inside you, his body trembling from the intensity of his orgasm.

He collapsed beside you, pulling you into his arms, his lips pressing lazy kisses along your shoulder. “You okay?” he murmured, voice softer now, filled with warmth.

You nodded, breathless, a satisfied smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah… more than okay.”

San chuckled, his arms tightening around you. “Good… because I’m not done with you yet.”

꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒷꒦

San stayed wrapped around you, his warmth cocooning you in the aftermath of pleasure. His breathing was still heavy, his heartbeat pounding against your back as he held you close. Slowly, he brushed his lips over your temple, his touch featherlight now—so different from the way he had just claimed you.

“You did so well,” he murmured, voice soft and full of affection. His fingers traced gentle circles on your bare skin, grounding you. “Are you okay?”

You let out a satisfied hum, melting into him. “Yeah,” you whispered. “That was…”

“Amazing?” he finished with a lazy chuckle, his lips curling into a smug grin against your shoulder.

You rolled your eyes, playfully swatting his arm. “You’re so cocky.”

He only laughed, sitting up slightly to pull the blankets over both of you. “Come here,” he said, tugging you closer so you were nestled against his chest. His fingers ran through your hair soothingly, untangling the strands with careful attention.

For a while, neither of you spoke. The room was quiet except for the soft patter of rain against the window and the steady rhythm of his heartbeat under your ear.

Then, San pressed another kiss to your forehead, his voice dipping into something even gentler. “Do you need anything? Water? A snack?”

You shook your head, sighing contentedly. “Just you.”

His arms tightened around you. “Good, because I’m not letting you go anytime soon.”

He reached over to the bedside table, grabbing a tissue to clean you up with slow, tender movements. “Tell me if anything feels uncomfortable, okay?” His tone was full of care as he made sure you were completely comfortable before discarding the tissue and pulling you into his warmth again.

As the exhaustion settled in, he tucked you beneath his chin, his fingers lazily tracing patterns on your back. “Sleep, baby,” he whispered. “I’ll be right here when you wake up.”

And with that, you drifted off, safe in his arms.

Hongjoong x f!reader

Warning: 18+

Genre:

• Smut / Erotic Romance

• Gambling & High-Stakes Tension

• Dom/Sub Dynamics

• Mild Dirty Talk & Power Play

Word Count: 1,150 words.

Summary: After a heated night at the casino, you and Hongjoong make a daring bet—winner takes all. When he comes out victorious, he takes you back to his penthouse to claim his prize. What starts as playful teasing quickly turns into something much darker and more intoxicating as he reminds you exactly who’s in control. With his dominant touch and filthy words, losing to Hongjoong might be the best gamble you’ve ever made.

The casino was alive with opulence—the rich scent of aged whiskey, the glimmer of golden lights reflecting off velvet tables, and the sound of money exchanging hands in a high-stakes game of fortune. But none of that mattered. Not when Hongjoong sat across from you, his gaze burning into yours, a devilish smirk playing at his lips.

You had been going back and forth all night, each win and loss raising the tension between you two. Hongjoong was dangerous with his confidence, his ring-clad fingers tapping rhythmically against his stack of chips.

“You wanna make this more interesting?” His voice was smooth, but there was an underlying hunger in his tone.

You raised a brow. “What do you have in mind?”

“If I win…” He leaned in, his lips dangerously close to your ear. “You come home with me. And you let me do whatever I want to you.”

Heat pooled between your thighs, but you kept your face neutral. “And if I win?”

His smirk widened. “Then I’ll be at your mercy.”

It was a gamble—a dangerous, thrilling one—but the way Hongjoong was looking at you had already sealed your fate.

“Deal.”

The final cards were revealed, and your stomach twisted. A flush. Hongjoong’s fucking flush.

He leaned back, exhaling dramatically. “Looks like you’re mine tonight, sweetheart.”

*time skip*

The second you stepped into Hongjoong’s penthouse, he was on you.

His lips crashed against yours, rough and needy, as he pushed you back against the door. His hands gripped your waist, fingers digging in possessively, pressing you so close you could feel the hardness in his jeans.

“You really thought you could beat me?” he murmured against your lips, his voice teasing but laced with dark amusement.

“I could have,” you whispered, refusing to back down even as his knee pushed between your thighs, forcing them apart.

“Lying won’t save you now.” He grabbed your chin, tilting your head up to meet his gaze. “I won. And that means you’re mine tonight.”

Your breath hitched as he spun you around, pressing your chest against the cool wall. His hands roamed your body, sliding up your dress, fingers ghosting over your thighs before yanking your panties down in one swift motion.

“You’re already wet,” he chuckled, dragging two fingers through your slick folds before teasing your entrance. “Did losing turn you on that much?”

You bit your lip, refusing to give him the satisfaction of an answer. But your silence only made him more determined.

His fingers plunged inside you without warning, curling just right, pressing against that spot that made your legs tremble. You gasped, hands splaying against the wall for support as he fucked you with his fingers, slow and deliberate.

“Come on, baby,” he purred, his free hand snaking around to your throat, applying just enough pressure to make your head spin. “Let me hear you.”

A soft moan escaped your lips, and Hongjoong smirked. “That’s better.”

He pulled his fingers out, bringing them to your lips. “Suck.”

Your tongue flicked out, tasting yourself as you took his fingers into your mouth, sucking obediently. His eyes darkened, watching you with pure lust.

“Fuck, you’re such a good girl when you want to be.”

In one swift motion, he flipped you around, lifting you onto the nearest surface—the sleek marble countertop. He unbuckled his belt, yanking his jeans and boxers down just enough to free his cock.

Your breath caught in your throat. He was thick, the tip already glistening with precum, veins prominent as he stroked himself lazily.

“Lie back,” he commanded.

You obeyed, your legs falling open as he lined himself up, rubbing his tip against your entrance, teasing.

“Beg for it,” he smirked, gripping your thighs.

Your pride almost made you refuse—but the ache between your legs was unbearable.

“Please, Hongjoong,” you whimpered. “I need you.”

That was all he needed.

With a sharp thrust, he buried himself inside you, stretching you deliciously as a choked moan left your lips. His hands gripped your hips tightly, holding you in place as he set a ruthless pace, each thrust hitting deeper, harder.

“Fuck—so tight,” he growled, his rings digging into your skin as he slammed into you. “You feel so fucking good.”

Your nails raked down his back as he leaned over you, his breath hot against your lips. “You’re mine tonight, remember that.”

His thrusts grew erratic, your moans filling the air as pleasure built deep inside you. His hand slipped between your bodies, fingers rubbing circles on your clit, pushing you closer and closer to the edge.

“Come for me,” he murmured against your lips, biting down on your bottom lip. “Be a good girl and fucking come for me.”

With a cry, you unraveled beneath him, pleasure washing over you in waves as your walls clenched around him. He groaned, his hips stuttering as he buried himself deep inside you, spilling his release with a guttural moan.

For a moment, the only sound was your heavy breathing, your bodies still tangled together.

Then, Hongjoong smirked down at you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

“Next time you make a bet with me, sweetheart…” he murmured, pressing a slow, teasing kiss to your lips.

“Make sure you’re ready to lose.”

Special thanks to my lovely cutie pie for this idea aka @no1-likeme !!

Pairing: Yunho x f!reader

Warning: 18+

Genre: Smut, Idol AU, Slight Dom/

Word Count: 1042 words.

Summary: You're Yunho's girlfriend (secret girlfriend) and he's an idol, a member of a boy group called ATEEZ (we know duh lol) and you went to their concert as you saw their performances in their dressing room as you sat on Yunho's seat.

The backstage area was dimly lit, the hum of the concert still lingering in the air. Fans' screams echoed in your ears, but they were nothing compared to the pounding of your heart as you stood in Yunho's dressing room, waiting.

The performance had been electric- his sweat-slicked body moving effortlessly, commanding the stage with that signature confidence. And now, here you were, your breath hitching as the door clicked shut behind him.

Yunho leaned against the door, chest rising and falling, eyes dark with something unspoken. His black hair clung to his forehead, his stage outfit hugging his broad shoulders and toned frame.

"You've been watching me all night," he murmured, voice deep and teasing as he stepped closer. "Did you like what you saw?"

Your throat went dry as you swallowed hard, nodding. "You looked... incredible."

A slow smirk played on his lips. "You always say that," he said, reaching out to tilt your chin up. “But tonight, it felt different. You couldn't take your eyes off me."

Your breath caught when his fingers ghosted over your jaw, sending a shiver down your spine. "Yunho, we shouldn't—"

"Shouldn't what?" he interrupted, voice dropping to a husky whisper. "Be alone together like this? Touch each other the way we both want?"

You exhaled sharply as his fingers trailed down your neck, pausing just above the neckline of your dress. His presence was intoxicating-his scent, his heat, the way he was looking at you like you were the only thing he wanted.

“Tell me to stop," he challenged, lips barely brushing against your ear. "And I will."

But you didn't.

Instead, you grabbed his wrist and guided his hand lower, pressing it against the curve of your waist. That was all the permission he needed.

In a blur of movement, Yunho backed you against the vanity, his hands gripping your hips as his mouth crashed against yours. The kiss was hungry, desperate—weeks of stolen glances and unspoken tension igniting into something raw and unrestrained.

His hands slid up your thighs, bunching your dress around your waist as he lifted you onto the counter. You gasped into his mouth when he pressed himself between your legs, the hard outline of his arousal making heat pool in your core.

"You have no idea how long I've wanted this," he growled against your lips, his fingers tracing the inside of your thigh before slipping beneath your panties.

A moan escaped you when he found your slick heat, his touch both teasing and possessive. His lips traveled down your neck, sucking and nipping as he worked you open with slow, deliberate strokes.

"Yunho-please," you whimpered, gripping onto his shoulders as pleasure coiled in your stomach.

He chuckled darkly. “Patience, baby. I want to take my time with you."

But patience was the last thing on your mind when he dropped to his knees, dragging your underwear down with a wicked grin. The moment his mouth met your throbbing core, all coherent thought vanished-only the sound of your moans and the sinful way he devoured you filling the room.

And tonight, there would be no more holding back.

Your fingers tangled in Yunho's damp hair, tugging gently as his tongue worked magic between your thighs. Each flick and swirl sent waves of pleasure coursing through your body, your moans growing louder with every passing second.

"Yunho, I-" you gasped, feeling the tension build to an almost unbearable peak.

He pulled back slightly, his lips glistening with your arousal as he looked up at you, eyes dark and filled with desire. "Not yet,” he murmured, a mischievous glint in his eye. “I want to feel you come around me."

With that, he rose to his feet, capturing your lips in a searing kiss. You could taste yourself on him, the intimate act only fueling your desire. His hands deftly unbuckled his belt, the sound of the metal clinking sending a thrill through you.

Impatient, you reached down to help, your fingers brushing against the hard length straining against his pants. He groaned into your mouth, the sound vibrating through you and making you ache for him even more.

Finally, he freed himself, the sight of his arousal making your mouth water.

He stroked himself a few times before lining up with your entrance, pausing to look into your eyes.

"Are you sure?" he asked, his voice strained with restraint.

"Yes," you breathed, wrapping your legs around his waist to pull him closer. "Please, Yunho."

With a low growl, he pushed into you, the stretch and fullness making you both gasp. He paused once he was fully seated inside you, giving you a moment to adjust.

"God, you feel amazing," he murmured against your neck, pressing soft kisses to your skin.

"Move," you urged, rolling your hips to emphasize your point.

He didn't need to be told twice.

Pulling back, he thrust into you with a steady rhythm, each movement sending sparks of pleasure through your body. You clung to him, nails digging into his shoulders as he drove you both closer to the edge.

The room was filled with the sounds of your shared pleasure-the slap of skin against skin, your mingled moans, the creak of the vanity beneath you. It was raw, primal, and everything you'd ever fantasized about.

"Yunho, I'm close,” you panted, feeling the coil in your belly tighten.

"Me too," he groaned, his thrusts becoming more erratic. “Come for me, baby."

His words sent you tumbling over the edge, your orgasm crashing through you like a tidal wave. Your walls clenched around him, triggering his own release as he buried himself deep inside you with a guttural moan.

For a moment, the world seemed to stand still, the two of you lost in the aftermath of your shared pleasure. Slowly, your breathing returned to normal, and Yunho pressed a tender kiss to your forehead.

"That was..." you began, but trailed off, unable to find the right words.

"Yeah," he agreed, a satisfied smile on his lips. "It was.”

As you both began to disentangle and redress, a comfortable silence settled between you. Whatever this was, whatever it meant, you knew one thing for certain—you'd never look at the stage, or Yunho, the same way again.