Annyeongz One-shots

39. Teasing end up ??

Here we go part 2 Law

Oh you guys know what's going to coming up😛

( M )

His hand went still under hers. The case file’s text blurred into gray blocks as her scent reached him—vanilla and night air, cutting through the coffee staleness.

“Article 214,” he said, his voice a dry, automatic recitation. “Pertains to spousal support in dissolution of asset-heavy estates. Not… stress relief.”

Wonyoung’s smile was a courtroom victory. “A narrow interpretation, Counselor.” She shifted, the motion deliberate, and the black lace of her thigh brushed his wrist. “I’m arguing for a broader application. One based on… observed need.”

She lifted his hand from the paper. Turned it over. Her thumb pressed into his palm, circling the tense mound of muscle there. The file slid to the floor with a soft thump.

“The evidence is compelling,” she murmured. Her other hand came up to his jaw, guiding his face toward hers. “The respondent exhibits elevated heart rate, persistent fixation, and a documented inability to disengage from work product after hours.”

He let her turn him. Her eyes were dark, reflecting the sliver of streetlight. “I have a hearing at nine.”

“And I have a motion to compel,” she whispered, her lips a breath from his. “Right now.”

She kissed him. It wasn’t soft. It was a claim. Her mouth was hot and sure, and the taste of her—mint and something deeper—wiped the statutes from his tongue. A sound, low and ragged, escaped his throat. His hands found her hips, the lace rough under his fingertips, her skin blazing hot beneath it.

When she pulled back, his breath was gone. “Wonyoung—”

“Objection overruled,” she said, and settled herself fully into his lap. The weight of her, the delicious pressure, anchored him to the couch, to this room, to this single point in time. The case file was a ghost. Minho Park’s warning was static.

Her fingers went to the thin straps of her lingerie. She guided his right hand beneath the lace, pressing his palm flat against the swell of her breast. The heat was a shock. Her skin was impossibly soft. His thumb brushed over her nipple, already hard, and she arched into the touch, a sharp gasp breaking the quiet.

“See?” she breathed, her forehead against his. “Material fact.”

He was lost. His mind, trained to dissect and counter, surrendered. His other hand came up to cup her, his touch firmer now, learning the weight of her. He rolled the peak between his thumb and forefinger, and she moaned, the sound vibrating against his chest.

“Yujin.” His name was a plea and a command.

He bent his head, his mouth finding the lace where it strained over her other breast. He sucked the fabric, wetting it, feeling the hard bud of her nipple against his tongue. Her hands fisted in his hair, holding him there. The scent of her skin filled him—clean sweat and that vanilla, now edged with salt.

“Off,” he growled against the lace.

She leaned back, just enough to reach behind herself. A flick, and the clasp gave way. The black lace sagged, and she shrugged it off her shoulders, letting it fall to the couch between them. The streetlight painted her in silver and shadow.