rems-writing

[rems-writing]

Idk if I wanna write fluff or smut for these two. HELP ME

TWO BAD BITCHES AT THE SAME DAMN TIME

[rems-writing]

ATEEZ × DPR COLLAB WHEN?!?!?

Two of the sweetest men on earth met. My heart can’t take it ❤️

[rems-writing]

1-800- HOT- AND - MAD

[ J. Yunho ]

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summary: in which you find out your boyfriend is really hot when he’s pissed off

warning: jealous/possessive/ dom yunho, bratty/sub reader, descriptions of violence (yunho gets into a fight) agonophilia, oral, anal fingering, overstimulation, mentions of blood, slightly toxic behavior, mirror sex, finger fucking, unprotected sex, slight degradation, JUST FILTH YALL

genre: drama, smut

pairing: yunho x afab reader

word count: 9.3k

masterlist:

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The car was quiet. Too quiet.

Not peaceful quiet, thick quiet. Choking, humid, argument still lingering in the air like smoke kind of quiet. The kind where the windows should’ve fogged just from the heat of it all, even though no one had touched anyone in hours.

Yunho’s knuckles were tight around the wheel, the muscle in his jaw ticking as he took the left turn toward the club a little faster than necessary. He hadn’t looked at you once since you got in the car, which would’ve bothered you more if you weren’t still fuming yourself.

The tension between you had started this morning when you made the mistake of reading one of his texts over his shoulder. Your mom asked if you’re single again?” you’d said, your voice already edged with something sharp.

He’d tensed up immediately, like he knew what was coming. “She wants me to meet some girl from her church,” he muttered. “It’s nothing.”

But it wasn’t nothing. Not when this wasn’t the first time. Not when you’d been together for three years and she still referred to you as “that girl from the city.”

So naturally, you snapped. And then he snapped. And then came the hours of passive aggressive silence followed by sharp edged comments about your flirting habits, like how you couldn’t possibly go a night out without batting your lashes at some bartender to get free drinks.

“Maybe if you had a better job, I wouldn’t have to,” you’d shot back and immediately felt bad for saying it but too damn stubborn to apologize.

Now you were in his passenger seat, legs crossed, arms tight against your chest in your barely there black dress, because fuck his mom, and fuck being the respectable church girl she wants him with. You were wearing sin like perfume.

The air conditioning was blasting but your skin was hot. From anger, from guilt, from him. From the way he kept shifting in his seat like the veins in his arms were trying to keep him from doing something reckless. Like dragging the car over to the curb and telling you exactly who you belonged to.

“You gonna talk to me at some point,” you asked, eyes trained out the window, “or are we just going to arrive in awkward silence and pretend we haven’t been at each other’s throats all day?”

His hand flexed on the gearshift. “You wanna keep fighting?”

You turned your head slowly. “You’ve barely said ten words since we left.”

He scoffed. “Because if I open my mouth again, I’m gonna say some shit I can’t take back.”

You leaned forward, eyes narrowing. “Try me.”

His head snapped toward you, his voice low and deadly. “You think it’s cute, don’t you? Playing dumb, dressing like that, laughing at every goddamn joke some guy tells you like you don’t know exactly what you’re doing.”

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m doing,” you snapped. “I’ve spent the last three years watching your mom try to set you up with her fantasy nun in training while I’ve bent over backward for you, so yeah, maybe I like it when people treat me like I’m worth something.”

The tires screeched slightly as he pulled into the club lot, slamming the gear into park with a growl deep in his chest. “You think I don’t know your worth?” he asked, finally looking at you. Really looking, like he was seeing you through the fury, the hurt, the weeks of pushing it down and pretending things were fine. “I know exactly how much you’re worth. That’s why I haven’t ripped the head off every asshole who so much as breathes in your direction.”

His voice dropped, almost a whisper now, as his eyes dragged down your body. “But tonight? You so much as smile at the wrong guy… I might just stop holding back.”

Your breath caught. Not fear. No, nothing like that. It was want. Ugly, bitter, bone deep need. For him to snap. To do something reckless. To remind you why no sweet little church girl could ever survive the heat of his hands on her skin.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The music hit first, bass thick enough to rattle your ribs, lights strobing like the club was trying to induce collective blackout. It was already packed inside, bodies pressed together in sweaty celebration, and the second you stepped in, Yunho’s hand brushed yours like he might take it.

But he didn’t.

He just pulled it away, shoved it into his jacket pocket, and set his jaw like he’d rather chew glass than touch you right now.

Mingi spotted him immediately from the upper section, two empty shot glasses in his hands and that stupid birthday grin that could charm the pants off anyone. “Yunhoooo!” he called out over the music, barreling down the steps. “There’s my man!”

You didn’t even get a second to adjust your dress or shake off the frost between you and Yunho before Mingi wrapped a heavy arm around your boyfriend’s neck and tugged him into a hug so aggressive it probably knocked his spine back into alignment.

“Come on,” Mingi grinned. “There’s a bottle with your name on it upstairs. I’m two tequila shots from legally changing my name to Park Seonghwa, so you’re babysitting tonight.”

Yunho opened his mouth like he might say something, to you, maybe, or to protest, but Mingi was already dragging him off by the shoulder, weaving through bodies like a man on a mission. And just like that, Yunho was gone.

You stood there alone for a beat, the throb of the music suddenly too loud in your ears.

“Rough night?” came a voice beside you.

You turned to see Seonghwa standing with a fresh drink in his hand, dressed in all black and already looking faintly amused, like he could read the tension radiating off you like heat waves. Hongjoong was beside him, half a head shorter and smirking like a little gremlin who knew everything.

“Oh, the roughest,” you said, shaking it off and forcing a smile. “Remind me why I didn’t just stay home and drink in my bathrobe?”

“Because I texted you three times that I’d be offended if you didn’t show up,” Hongjoong said, sipping his drink. “And because you knew you’d look hot in that dress and make Yunho insane.”

You raised a brow. “I’m not trying to make him insane.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” Seonghwa muttered into his glass, eyes casually dragging down your body. “That dress is weaponized.”

You shrugged one bare shoulder. “He was already mad before I put it on.”

Hongjoong leaned in. “Still mad about his mom?” Him recalling the conversation, well you snapping about everything earlier on the phone.

You didn’t answer at first, just accepted the drink Seonghwa handed you, a dangerously pink thing with way too much vodka and sugar, and downed half of it in one go.

“He won’t say it, but yeah,” you muttered. “She invited him to brunch with that girl from her church. Again. Vanessa, Veronica or whatever.”

Seonghwa made a noise that sounded vaguely like a dying cat. “Does she think he’s gonna marry someone who plays acoustic guitar in the church choir and makes casseroles?”

“She made her own rosary beads,” you said flatly.

Hongjoong choked on his drink.

“I can’t compete with that,” you added. “I’ve said fuck six times since I walked in the building.”

“Seven,” Seonghwa corrected, then winked. “Make it eight and I’ll buy your next round.”

You laughed, finally, genuinely. It felt good. It felt like your ribs weren’t made of stone anymore.

But somewhere in the back of your mind, you knew Yunho was watching.

And he was. From the top floor, half a glass of whiskey in hand, pretending to listen to Mingi and San argue about who had better taste in partners. But his eyes?

They hadn’t left you once. Not since the moment you smiled at Seonghwa. Not since you leaned in a little too close to Hongjoong and tossed your hair like you knew exactly what you were doing.

Not since you crossed your legs in that dress and gave someone else the laugh he hadn’t earned all day.

And the way his jaw clenched?

It said you were about to learn what happens when Yunho stops pretending to be calm as he kept watching you now as the three of you grabbed shots.

Three shots in, the burn didn’t hurt anymore.

The first one had seared its way down like punishment, sharp and heavy in your chest, maybe for everything you wanted to say to Yunho but didn’t. The second tasted a little like regret and mango syrup. And the third? That one just made you warm.

You were sitting at the bar now, legs crossed, back arched just enough to be comfortable and just enough to make that slinky dress of yours hug the dangerous parts. Seonghwa had pulled up a second stool beside you, and Hongjoong stood between you both, drink in one hand and your wrist in the other like he was trying to show you how to fold a damn origami crane with a cocktail napkin.

“No, no, you have to crease it like this,” Hongjoong insisted, smirking as he pressed his thumb over yours. “You don’t just fold and hope for the best. It’s not your love life.”

Seonghwa snorted, and you flipped Hongjoong off, but not before laughing, real and unguarded.

It felt good to laugh. You needed it. And if Yunho wanted to stew in his own petty silence all night, that was his choice.

You snuck a glance upward, toward the balcony section. He was still up there. Still with Mingi, still nursing the same whiskey, still watching, but only occasionally. Not like before.

Which annoyed you. Which, you could admit it, hurt a little too. You wanted him to look.

You wanted him to care that you were here, having a good time without him, even if every laugh felt just a little bit hollow.

“You okay?” Seonghwa asked, nudging you with his shoulder, sharp eyes reading yours too easily.

“Yup,” you said, and took your fourth shot.

He didn’t believe you. Neither did Hongjoong. But bless them, they didn’t push.

The music was better now, less aggressive, more rhythmic. The kind that made your hips start to sway on instinct, even seated. Around you, the club pulsed with sweat and bodies and light. It felt like the kind of night that could go anywhere. Dangerous. Loose. Free.

You leaned in toward Seonghwa. “Do I look like I’m trying too hard?” His mouth twitched. “No. You look like a girl trying not to care about the fact that her boyfriend’s being a dick.”

“Good,” you said, lifting your chin.

Because you were. Trying not to care. Failing miserably, but trying.

And Yunho? He was back at the railing now. Still quiet. Still unreadable. Still stewing. He’d seen your fourth shot. He’d seen the way you smiled after it. The way Seonghwa leaned in to whisper something in your ear and you tilted your head, giggling into your shoulder.

He wasn’t mad at them. Not really. He trusted them, maybe more than anyone. But you? You were his. And watching you fall into that easy charm you always used when you were trying to prove a point…..

It fucking burned.

Mingi, oblivious and a little drunk, slapped his chest and offered him another shot. Yunho waved it off.

“I’m good.”

Mingi raised a brow. “You don’t look good.”

Yunho didn’t respond. Because his fists were clenched again. Because you were smiling again and it wasn’t at him.

And because deep down, somewhere under the bruised ego and unsaid apologies, he knew the longer this night went on, the closer he was to snapping.

You’d just finished twisting your straw into a coil of plastic frustration after Hongjoong and Seonghwa went to talk to Yeosang, when you felt a familiar weight drape dramatically across your back.

“Babe…” Wooyoung’s voice drawled against your ear, theatrical and soaked in tequila. “Why is your man up there glaring at everything like he’s about to set the entire club on fire with his mind?”

You didn’t even turn around. “Because he’s mad at me.”

“I can see that,” Wooyoung said, arms winding loosely around your shoulders as he leaned his chin on your head. “He’s staring like he wants to fight me just for being this close. Which, rude, considering I’m your favorite.”

You snorted, finally twisting in your stool to face him. “You are not my favorite.”

“Your mom thinks I’m your favorite.”

“My mom thinks you’re my gay best friend.”

“Exactly.”

Wooyoung flopped onto the stool beside you, already halfway through someone else’s abandoned drink like it belonged to him. He looked devastating, as always, black mesh shirt clinging to his chest, eyeliner sharp enough to draw blood, and those lips already curled into a shit eating grin.

“Did you two fight again?” he asked, voice sing song as he tapped your glass.

You hesitated, then nodded. “It’s been building all day. All week, actually.”

Wooyoung raised a brow, his voice dipping. “And yet here you are. Looking like sex in heels. Drinking without him. Laughing with Seonghwa. Flirting with Joongie. Mm, baby girl… you trying to start a war?”

You arched a brow. “I’m just living.”

“You’re poking the bear,” he said, eyes glittering as he leaned closer. “And the bear is feral. I haven’t seen Yunho look this pissed since that guy asked if you were single at karaoke night after you first started dating and you said….”

“‘Depends who’s asking,’” you finished for him, grinning.

“He didn’t speak to me for three days after that,” Wooyoung huffed, tossing back the rest of his drink. “I’m not even the one who said it! I just invited the guy to join!”

You giggled, your chest finally starting to relax. The club felt better now. Lighter. Fuzzy around the edges. Yunho was still up there, sure, but right now he felt like a shadow. A beautiful, brooding statue of rage and repressed emotions.

Until you made the mistake of glancing up again. Because he was watching. Elbows on the railing, drink forgotten, eyes locked straight onto you. He looked darker now. Not jealous. Not possessive.

Just done pretending he was okay.

Wooyoung followed your gaze. “Oh damn.”

“What?” you muttered.

“He just licked his teeth,” Wooyoung whispered, sipping someone else’s drink now. “You are so getting railed tonight.”

You rolled your eyes. “Unless he fights me first.”

“Oh, he’ll fight you,” Wooyoung purred. “With his dick.”

You shoved him, laughing, but your gaze flicked back up.

Still Yunho. Still watching. But now? Now he wasn’t just watching. Now he was moving.

Slow. Purposeful. Drink gone, hands flexing as he handed Mingi something and murmured something to San.

The bear had left the cave.

And he was coming straight for you.

You lost him somewhere between the bar and the DJ booth.

One second Yunho was a looming shadow stalking down the stairs, eyes fixed on you like a storm cloud with legs, and the next, he was swallowed by the crowd. A flash of flannel. The glint of his cross necklace. Then gone.

Which, fine.

If he wanted to play emotionally constipated beast, then you were going to be a brat right back.

You set your drink down and turned to Wooyoung, your lipstick stained grin already halfway to dangerous. “Come dance with me.”

He blinked. “Now?”

“No,” you deadpanned. “On my deathbed. Yes, now.”

Wooyoung let out a laugh that turned heads and gave a little bow. “Lead the way, queen of chaos.”

You grabbed his hand and pulled him toward the dance floor, already packed, already pulsing, the music vibrating up through your heels and into your bloodstream. Lights flickered hot pink and violet overhead, bodies moved in rhythm, and you let it all wash over you. Let yourself be loose. Let yourself forget Yunho’s cold shoulders and sharp words and that pinched, disapproving scowl.

Wooyoung spun you effortlessly, laughing when you bumped into him, hips brushing. He was warm and silly and sweet, your anchor and your weapon, all rolled into one. And unlike your boyfriend currently brooding somewhere in the shadows, Wooyoung danced with you like you deserved to be seen.

You threw your arms around his neck, tilted your head back, and let your hips roll to the music. The tequila shimmered in your bloodstream, making you bold, shameless. It was harmless. Just you and your best friend blowing off steam.

Until he appeared.

Not Yunho.

Some random half drunk guy with no boundaries.

You didn’t even catch his face at first, just the hands. One on your waist. Then another settling lower. Close. Too close.

You tensed, instinct flaring. But before you could even react, Wooyoung turned, “Uh…. hey man….” just as the guy leaned in behind you, his breath too close to your ear.

“You wanna dance, baby?”

You froze.

Baby.

BABY.

That’s what Yunho calls you when his voice drops into his throat and his hands are on your thighs and he’s about to wreck your entire existence.

You turned, slow and unimpressed, swaying slightly from the shots. Your hand rose to brush his arm off as you said, “Can you back the fuck off….”

CRACK.

The sound was deafening. Not from the volume, but from the shock.

Because in one heartbeat, Yunho was behind him.

And in the next, his fist was flying, slamming straight into the guy’s cheek so hard his head snapped sideways, body stumbling back.

“Yunho!” you shouted, but he didn’t even blink.

The guy barely regained his balance before throwing a punch back, landing hard into Yunho’s jaw with a sickening thud, and then it was on.

Not a scuffle. Not a push.

A full on, fists flying, tables shifting, club goers screaming BRAWL.

“OH SHIT!” Wooyoung yelped, immediately grabbing your arm and dragging you back as the two of them collided in the middle of the dance floor.

Drinks went flying. A table toppled. Yunho didn’t care.

He was all muscle and fury as he swung again, rage in every movement, pure instinct. You’d never seen him like this. Not even close.

Yunho. Sweet, loving Yunho.

Yunho, who once sobbed when he stepped on a roach and tried to bury it with dignity.

Yunho, who cried watching the last scene of Coco and apologized to a vending machine when he kicked it.

That Yunho was gone.

And in his place?

An unhinged, terrifyingly hot version with blood on his knuckles, fire in his eyes, and only one thing on his mind, protecting what was his.

And oh God, you were shamelessly, absolutely, wildly turned on.

“Holy shit,” Seonghwa breathed behind you, as he, Hongjoong, and Yeosang pushed their way through the crowd to join you and Wooyoung.

“Is that?” Jongho’s voice cut through, followed by the unmistakable bark of San yelling, “YUNHO, STOP!”

But he didn’t. Not until security came rushing in, two thick men grabbing the other guy, one grabbing Yunho by the arm. And still, Yunho fought to get one more punch in, his chest heaving, sweat glistening down his throat, lip split, hair wild across his forehead as he growled, “Touch her again, and I’ll fucking bury you.”

“Yunho!” Mingi was there now too, panting, trying to wrestle his best friend back with an arm across his chest. “You’re done, man! You got him!”

The guy, dazed and bleeding, was being dragged out through the crowd.

Yunho finally stopped fighting.

But he didn’t take his eyes off you.

His chest was rising and falling like he’d just run a marathon, jaw clenched, fists still flexing at his sides as everyone turned to stare.

You should’ve been mortified. Shocked. Maybe a little horrified.

And sure, you were a little shocked. But mostly? You were wet.

Like ruin your underwear, (if you had any on), legs squeezing together, core clenching WRECKED at the sight of your usually quiet, soft spoken boyfriend losing his mind because someone dared to touch you.

“Are you okay?” Yeosang asked beside you, genuinely concerned.

You blinked at him slowly. “I think,” you said, voice dazed, “yeah….. I’m….” Need to climb right now. Make him know that you didn’t want that dude. Show him he was the only thing you wanted.

Yunho brushed past the others, not saying a word as he grabbed your hand, rough, fingers locking with yours like steel, like he needed to feel you to stay grounded. He didn’t look at anyone. Didn’t thank Mingi. Didn’t acknowledge Seonghwa’s wide eyed “what the fuck was that?”

He just pulled. Out the side door. Through the alley.

And straight to the car.

No words. No hesitation.

Just heat radiating off him like asphalt in the August heat, his grip ironclad and silent until he threw the driver’s door open, got in, and waited until you did the same before slamming it shut.

The engine roared to life. And still not a word.

The only sounds in the car were the pulse of your heart in your ears and the low crunch of his cracked knuckles gripping the steering wheel.

You swallowed thickly, sneaking a glance at him.

His lip was split, the crimson trailing into the corner of his mouth like a slash of warpaint. His knuckles were smeared with drying blood, his or the other guy’s, you didn’t know. His chest was still rising and falling beneath his black tee and flannel like he hadn’t quite come down yet.

And that look, his eyes glued to the road, the tight line of his jaw, the curve of his mouth twitching like he still wasn’t finished.

You clenched your thighs. Hard. Because it was too much. He looked like sin. Like a punishment.

Like a man who’d been holding it together all night and finally snapped, and now didn’t trust himself to speak because if he did, he might pull over and fuck you against the hood.

You watched the muscles in his forearm flex as he shifted gears, the bracelet on his wrist catching the streetlights in flashes of silver. Your thighs pressed tighter, core throbbing with each quiet second that passed.

You wanted him to say something.

You wanted him to do something. But the silence? It was worse. It was foreplay. Hot. Charged. Lethal.

You shifted in your seat, breath shallow.

“Yunho,” you whispered.

He didn’t answer. Didn’t even blink. Just turned the wheel, took the last corner toward your apartment and parked hard, tires squealing a little as the car jerked to a stop.

He finally looked at you then.

And oh God, the look in his eyes…. Still silent.

Still storming.

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The door slammed behind you with a thud, the echo still ringing in the apartment as Yunho strode in like he was trying not to pace. His jaw was still clenched. His shoulders still tight. He was breathing through his nose like every breath might be the one that gets him under control.

You stood there in the entryway, your heels clicking on the wood floor as you watched him pull off his flannel, slow, tense, controlled, then reach behind his head and tug off his shirt.

It stuck to his skin for a second. Bloody, sweaty, soaked in a night that had ruined you both.

And still, he didn’t speak.

He tossed the shirt in the direction of the laundry basket in the hall but didn’t check if it landed.

Just walked into the kitchen, grabbed a glass of water, took a sip.

You were still standing there like a fucking Victorian ghost in a slutty dress and smeared lipstick, your thighs pressed together, heat pulsing between them like a warning siren, and he, HE, had the audacity to act like nothing happened.

He ran a hand through his hair, still silent, and finally said, muttering almost to himself, “I’m gonna take a shower.”

You blinked.

Hard.

And then your body moved before your brain did.

“Are you serious?”

He froze.

Slowly turned to face you.

You didn’t even give him time to process it.

“No. No, no, no. You don’t get to do that. You don’t get to beat the shit out of someone for touching me, drag me out of the club like I’m about to be claimed in the wild, drive me home in brooding silence, and then, what? Shower? Like this is just a normal fucking Wednesday?!”

He stared at you.

And God help you, he looked even hotter under your kitchen light, busted lip, bruised knuckles, small blood smudged across his forearm, a red fingerprint on his neck where someone tried to pull him off. Bruised jaw. Like war torn sex.

“I am soaked, Yunho,” you snapped shamelessly, stepping toward him. “I’ve been soaked since you threw that guy across the floor like a ragdoll and growled at him like you were about to bite his throat out. And now you’re just gonna rinse off?!”

Yunho blinked once. Twice.

Then he let out a single laugh, dry and sharp, like it had been dragged from his chest against its will.

But it died in his throat almost as soon as it escaped.

Because something shifted in him.

His eyes darkened. His body stilled.

His hand snapped up to grab your jaw, not harsh but firm, fingers curled just beneath your ear, thumb brushing your cheekbone.

“You want me like this?” he asked, voice low and hoarse, barely more than a growl. “Blood on my knuckles and barely holding it together?”

Your breath caught as he stepped closer, chest brushing yours, the heat of him swallowing you whole. The scent of sweat, blood, his skin, him, was dizzying.

“You want me when I’m this fucked up?” he whispered, words pouring hot against your lips. “When all I can think about is burying myself so deep inside you I forget why I was pissed off in the first place?”

Your knees damn near buckled.

“I almost blacked out on that floor tonight,” he murmured, eyes flicking to your mouth. “Because some asshole touched what’s mine. You think I want to just walk away from that? Go take a fucking shower like I’m not starving for you?”

You whimpered, actually whimpered, and his grip tightened just slightly, dragging your gaze back to his.

“I want you,” he said, voice thick and full of everything he hadn’t said all night. “But you’re gonna say it.”

You blinked up at him, lips trembling.

He tilted his head. “Tell me.”

“I want you,” you breathed.

“Say it like you mean it.”

Your voice cracked.

“I want you to fuck me so hard I forget we ever fought.”

His eyes snapped shut like the words hit him between the ribs harder than that guy hitting him in the jaw as he let you go. The words hung between you like smoke. thick, intoxicating, fatal.

He didn’t see you drop.

He only felt it after.

The sound of your knees hitting the floor. The rush of air as you sank down in front of him, fingers trailing down his stomach as you settled between his legs like it was the only place you belonged.

His eyes shot open.

And what he saw?

You.

Looking up at him through your lashes, mouth already parted, pupils blown wide with lust and vengeance and that sick little spark that always lit up when you wanted to ruin him.

“Fuck.” Yunho choked, the word cracked and useless, falling from his lips as he stared down at you like he couldn’t believe what you’d just done.

But you weren’t teasing.

You were starving.

And so was he.

You let your hands drag up his thighs, slow, deliberate, until you reached the waistband of his jeans, already tented, already twitching with how unbelievably hard he was.

His busted lip split wider when he bit down on it.

“Baby…” he rasped, voice shaking, hands hovering at his sides. “You don’t have to…”

You looked up at him, lips brushing the fabric of his pants.

“I want to.”

One hand slipped beneath the waistband, fingers wrapping around him, hot, heavy, pulsing against your palm. He hissed, hips jerking slightly.

You pulled him out slowly, unzipping him, the way you knew drove him crazy, dragging your hand down his length and watching his body shudder from it.

And when you leaned forward and licked the tip, just the tip, his entire body snapped tight like a livewire.

“Jesus Christ,” he groaned, one hand flying to the back of your head, not pushing, just there, grounding himself, gripping your hair like it was the only thing anchoring him to earth.

You didn’t take your time.

Not tonight.

Tonight, you were making a point.

You took him into your mouth, deep and filthy, lips slick and cheeks hollowed as your hand followed, twisting at the base. His breath punched out of him in a moan so ragged it almost sounded like your name.

“F… fuck, baby…” he grunted, head falling back as your tongue swirled, as you gagged slightly and kept going, tears pricking your eyes but your grip never faltering.

The blood on his knuckles. The bruise on his jaw. The taste of him on your tongue and the weight of him hitting the back of your throat, everything about him was violent, raw, and so goddamn yours.

He looked back down, his jaw slack, lips parted as he watched you ruin yourself on him, lips stretched and dripping, your eyes fluttering closed like you’d die if he didn’t come undone.

“You want me to forget the fight?” he growled, voice low and rough. “You’re doing a fucking good job of it.”

You moaned around him in response, sending vibrations up his spine and causing his breath to hitch.

Your mouth was wrapped tight and hot around him, cheeks hollowed and lips swollen, spit trailing down your chin like sin in liquid form. Your hand worked the base, slow and tight, just the way he liked it, just enough to keep him teetering on the edge while your tongue licked along the underside like you wanted him twitching from the inside out.

“Fuck…” he groaned, eyes fluttering closed, hips stuttering forward involuntarily. “You’re gonna make me…”

But he didn’t finish the sentence.

Because he couldn’t.

Instead, he pulled back, not all the way. Just far enough that his dick slipped from your lips and dropped heavy against your mouth, wet and flushed, smearing across your cheek and lips in the filthiest, most possessive display you’d ever felt.

You gasped softly, breath hot against him, tongue darting out instinctively to trace the head, and then slowly, you flattened your tongue along the side of his dick, licking him like a goddamn lollipop.

And when your eyes locked with his? You smiled. “I don’t know why you get so jealous anyways…” His breath stopped as you licked him again. Slower. “your dick’s already ruined me for anyone else.”

Silence. Dead, soul leaving his body silence as Yunho stared down at you like he’d just heard the voice of God and it was moaning his name. His chest heaved, pupils blown wide, chest gleaming with sweat, busted lip dark red and parted in pure shock.

He looked feral. Possessive. His jaw clenched, hand tightening in your hair, not enough to hurt, just enough to remind you exactly who you were playing with.

“I ruined you?” he asked, voice rasping out like he barely had the air to speak.

You nodded, dragging your tongue up his shaft again before pressing a soft, open mouthed kiss to the head.

“Completely,” you whispered. “You think any other man could make me drop to my knees like this?”

That did it. His hand fisted in your hair. He pulled you up finally but not gently, and not like a man with self control. Like a man who was done holding back.

His mouth crashed into yours, rough, biting, blood smeared, and when he shoved you against the kitchen counter, your back arching and your legs spreading instinctively, you knew exactly what was coming.

“Say it again,” he growled into your mouth, grinding against you through your dress.

“Say you’re mine.”

You barely got the words out between gasps, his mouth devouring yours, the heat of him pressing against you like he was seconds from splitting in two.

“Yours…” you breathed, voice already breaking as his tongue slid hot and hungry against yours. You clung to his shoulders, grinding up against him like your body didn’t care that you were in the kitchen, on the edge, half drunk and half mad.

“All yours.”

Yunho grabbed your waist and lifted you like you, slamming you down on the kitchen counter, the thud echoing through the apartment.

He shoved your knees apart in one motion, his frame crowding yours completely. Then came that dress. That little black fucking dress.

He pushed it up, rough, almost angry, and when his eyes landed on the space between your thighs, everything stopped. His jaw locked. His nostrils flared. “You didn’t wear panties,” he growled.

You met his gaze, all fire and challenge, heart hammering. “Nope.”

A sound left him, low and dark and almost a snarl.

“You went to that fucking club,” he said, voice sharp with disbelief, “after everything today… dressed like that… with nothing on under this fucking dress?”

You didn’t flinch. Just held his stare and whispered, “What’re you gonna do about it?”

His hands gripped your thighs so tight you gasped, bruises incoming, and he pulled you closer to the edge of the counter with a force that nearly knocked the salt shaker over.

His eyes dropped back between your legs, where your pussy glistened under the low light, slick, swollen, already needy just from the weight of his voice. He licked his lips, his busted one splitting slightly again from the pressure. Blood be damned, he needed a taste.

“You walked around all night like this?” he muttered, dragging two fingers up your slit so slowly you saw stars. “With this pussy dripping for me the whole time?”

You moaned, helpless, arching, wrecked from the pressure of just that.

“Answer me,” he snapped, fingers teasing at your entrance but not pushing in, his breath hot against your throat.

“Yes,” you whimpered. “I wanted to mess with you…. to watch you lose your mind.”

He laughed, low and wrecked and dangerous.

“You want to see what that looks like, baby?” he whispered, kissing your neck before his voice dropped darker. “I’ll fucking show you.” He dropped to his knees. Right there, on the tile.

Dragging you to the edge of the counter, spreading you wider, arms locked under your thighs as he dove into you like a starving man, like he was angry, desperate, and starved for the taste of you.

You screamed.

His mouth was brutal, tongue flattening against your clit with every pass, lips sealing around you like he was trying to suck your soul out through your cunt. And when you tried to close your legs, he growled, deep and low, holding you open as his nose brushed your folds and his tongue pushed deep inside you.

You nearly came right there as his tongue fucked into you with a rhythm that felt dangerous, mouth slick and hot as he pinned your thighs wide and buried his face deeper like he wanted to drown in your pussy. And God, he was so good at it.

Every flick. Every suck. Every guttural sound he made as he licked you like a man starving, it hit every nerve, every shaking muscle, until you could barely even breathe. And then you felt it. His fingers.

Two of them, wet from his mouth, slick and long, sliding into your cunt like he owned it. Curling deep and pounding harder, pushing against that spot inside you that made your eyes roll back in your skull.

You clawed at the counter, heels digging into the drawers, hips jerking helplessly as he tongue fucked your clit and finger fucked your pussy with ruthless, relentless thrusts.

“Oh my God…. Yunho, I’m… fuck, I’m….”

He didn’t stop. He didn’t slow down.

And you were too wrecked to notice that while one hand worked your cunt, the other, wet from your own slick, had slid lower, fingers circling your ass. He pushed one inside. You gasped, the sound jagged, more like a sob than a moan. Not pain. Shock. Pleasure so sharp it made you twitch.

Your pussy clenched wildly around his fingers as his tongue licked harder, and then he added a second finger to your ass. Slow at first, then pushing deeper. The stretch. The fullness. His tongue fucking into you. You shattered.

Screaming. Shaking. Legs trembling so hard your heel knocked over a jar of cinnamon that crashed to the floor unheard. Your orgasm hit like lightning, ripping through you as his tongue kept moving, his fingers kept fucking your ass full, your pussy dripping, your voice gone.

But Yunho didn’t stop. Didn’t even pause. He slid his fingers out of your ass and thrust three of them back into your cunt, sticky, soaking wet, so thick it burned deliciously as he shoved them in to the knuckle.

He pulled his mouth away and looked up at you from between your thighs, face soaked, lips swollen, eyes wild as he stood back up.

Then his free hand gripped your chin, hard enough to tilt your head and force your dazed, tear filled gaze to lock with his. “Fuck yourself on them,” he growled.

Your thighs trembled against his forearms, your back arched, sweat clinging to your skin as you tried, really tried, to move. To fuck yourself on his fingers like he told you to. But your body was wrecked.

Still twitching. Still fluttering from your orgasm. Your clit throbbed, your pussy clenched tight around his fingers, still soaking wet and stretched wide, and he hadn’t even really fucked you yet.

“Come on,” Yunho rasped, voice wrecked, his grip on your chin tightening just enough to make you look at him. “You said you were mine. Show me.”

You moaned, high and breathless, as you reached down, trembling hands fumbling for his wrist, trying to ground yourself.

Your fingers wrapped around his thick forearm, nails digging in, and you rocked, hips lifting off the counter, pushing yourself down on his hand with a broken cry. But it wasn’t enough.

Your body jolted from overstimulation. Your legs were too weak. Your core too sensitive. You whined in frustration, grinding down again but gasping halfway through the motion, overwhelmed and desperate.

“I…. I can’t….” you choked out. “I want to, I just… fuck, Yunho, I can’t do enough!” Your voice cracked as he stared down at you like a man seeing divinity for the first time.

You. Completely undone. Trying so hard to please him you were shaking. Still soaked. Still needy. Still his as he leaned in slowly, lips brushing yours as he whispered, “You’re trying for me even when you’re falling apart.”

You whimpered. His fingers curled inside you just right and your legs jerked.

“You know how fucking beautiful that is?” he whispered. “You look so sweet when you’re desperate for me.”

You moaned into his mouth, still pushing, still riding the edge of madness as your walls fluttered helplessly around his fingers, so close to the edge again it was embarrassing.

“Let me take over,” he murmured against your lips.

And when you nodded, meek and broken and begging, he growled, low and feral.

“Good girl.”

He pulled his fingers from your pussy with a filthy sound, and you gasped, collapsing against his chest, body shaking. His hands slid under your thighs, lifting you like you and you wrapped your arms around his neck, still dazed, lips brushing his throat.

“Bed,” you mumbled, voice hoarse. “Please, Yunho…”

He didn’t answer, just carried you down the hallway and into your bedroom like a man on a mission, and made a hard left.

Straight past the mattress.

Straight to the far wall.

To the floor length mirror.

You blinked, confused, until you met the cool surface of the mirror and Yunho pressed into you, hips grinding against you as his hands slid down to your ass.

Your eyes opened wide.

And you saw it.

You saw everything.

Your ruined dress hiked around your waist.

Your slick thighs trembling.

Your lipstick smeared from moaning into his mouth.

Your chest rising and falling like you were trying not to cry from how badly you needed him again.

Yunho stared into the mirror, one arm braced beside your head, the other hand gripping your thigh to keep you spread open against the glass.

His voice was low, rough, and feral.

“I’m not taking you to bed,” he said. “Not yet.”

“Yunho…”

“No.” His eyes burned into yours. “I want you to watch.”

“I want you to see how I fuck you,” he growled. “I want you to look in that mirror and watch me really ruin you for anyone else.”

You were breathless.

Heart pounding.

You turned your head slightly to look at him, still expecting him to slide into you, to lift your leg and finally, finally take what was already his.

But instead? He stepped back. And started taking off the rest of his clothes.

Slowly.

Deliberately.

Your breath caught as you watched his busted knuckles.

Dried blood flaking down the side of his ring finger. A smear near his wrist. A dark bruise already blooming on the back of his hand.

And then your eyes dragged upward, over the slope of his jaw to that beautiful mouth. His lips, still swollen. The bottom one split and drying now.

You clenched your thighs so hard it almost hurt.

And the worst part?

You knew his mother would call this blasphemy. She’d throw holy water at you through the phone, clutch her rosary, say three Hail Marys and ask Saint Veronica or whatever the hell that girl’s name is, to shield her baby boy from the succubus in the mirror.

Too late.

Because you weren’t sorry.

You were more turned on than you’d ever been in your entire life.

You couldn’t stop staring, at the bruises, at the blood, at the way he stood before you, naked now except for the weight of his rage and the throb of his dick, hard and leaking.

“Fucking look at you,” Yunho muttered, stepping closer. “Pressed up against that mirror, staring at me like I’m a goddamn drug.”

You whimpered as he stepped behind you again, his dick brushed the swell of your ass. One big hand came up to cup your throat, not tight, just there, possessive and warm and so him.

“That what I am to you?” he whispered against your neck. “Something you can’t quit?”

You moaned.

And in the mirror, your eyes fluttered shut.

“No,” he growled, hand tightening just a little. “Keep them open. I want you to see exactly what kind of man you’re letting ruin you.”

Yunho’s voice was dark silk, frayed, trembling on the edge of something unholy. His hand was still wrapped loosely around your throat, not choking, just there, a reminder. A claim.

And behind you, you felt him line up.

Thick. Hot. Ready.

He didn’t thrust, not yet. Just slid the head of his dick through your folds, slow and teasing, smearing your slick everywhere as you twitched against the mirror, your breath fogging up the glass.

“You feel this?” he muttered, rubbing the tip against your clit with just enough pressure to make you gasp. “You’re soaked. Messy all over me.”

You moaned, pushing back against him, thighs shaking.

“Still begging for more even after I finger fucked your ass and made you come all over my face.”

Your eyes rolled back and he growled, deep, rough, animalistic.

“Eyes on the mirror. Now.”

You obeyed. Because how could you not? The reflection was pure sin.

You, flushed, lips parted, eyes wide and dazed.

Him, bruised, blood streaked, dark and towering behind you, dick thick, big and twitching against your pussy. He pushed in. Just the tip.

Your mouth dropped open in a silent moan, your fingers clawing at the mirror, trying to stay upright as he held you still and slowly, agonizingly slowly, slid in another inch. Then another. Stretching you wide, your body pulsing around him.

“Still so fucking tight,” he rasped against your ear, voice strained like it was costing him everything not to slam into you. “You take me like you were made for me.” And you loved it.

Every possessive word. Every filthy groan. The bruises, the blood, the way his dick made you feel owned. A little toxic. But you didn’t care. You arched your back, pressing your ass against his hips.

“You like this,” he said, tone dark and almost accusing, like he couldn’t believe the shameless, needy moans falling from your lips. “You like knowing you’re mine. That no one else’ll ever get this pussy again.”

You looked right into the mirror. Met his eyes. And grinned. “Your mom would be so disappointed in me,” you panted, voice high and wrecked. “Guess Saint Vanessa, or Veronica, or whatever the hell her name is, doesn’t get off to blood and bruises.”

Yunho snapped.

His hand clamped tighter around your throat, not choking, but claiming, and he slammed into you with one brutal thrust that shook the mirror and knocked every coherent thought from your skull.

You screamed. Loud. Messy. Wrecked. He didn’t stop.

He fucked you hard, each thrust knocking your body forward as he held you up like a doll, his dick driving so deep it punched the air from your lungs. You heard the slap of skin, the creak of the mirror, your own choked moans.

And through it all, you watched in the reflection of the glass.

Watched your body shake. Watched your mouth fall open in silent pleasure. Watched the dark, dangerous man behind you lose himself in you like you were the only thing tethering him to the earth.

He wasn’t coming yet. This wasn’t about that. This was about making you remember exactly who you belonged to.

Your moans cracked apart into sobs. Your hands slipped down the mirror, leaving streaks in the fog from your breath and the heat of your body. He just kept fucking you. Deep. Brutal. Possessive.

One hand gripped your thigh, the other curved tight around your waist like he was afraid to let go. And all you could do was take it, choke on your own cries, mouth falling open with every thrust as your pussy fluttered around his dick, so wet, so swollen, so wrecked.

“You’re so fucking perfect like this,” Yunho groaned, lips brushing your ear. “Dripping. Shaking. Dumb for my dick.”

Your eyes rolled back. Your hips pushed back on instinct.

“And you love it, don’t you?” he growled. “You love when I’m like this, fucked up, furious, making you take every inch like a good fucking girl.”

“Y…. Yes… yes, fuck, Yunho!”

His grip on your waist tightened as he drove deeper. “You want sweet? That’s for Saint Vanessa. You want me? This is what you get.”

You came again with a scream, your entire body spasming against the glass, legs giving out, completely ruined, your orgasm crashing over you like a tidal wave of sin and surrender.

Yunho kissed your shoulder, soft for just a breath. Then he pulled out.

And you whimpered, the loss unbearable. But before you could collapse completely, he scooped you up, carrying you to the bed like you were made of glass. Only you weren’t. You were made to be broken.

He didn’t throw you down. He placed you, on your hands and knees, your dress bunched around your hips, your body still twitching. But the mirror…

The mirror was still in view.

You caught sight of yourself, face flushed, eyes wide, hair wild, tears dried on your cheeks, and behind you, him. Towering. Silent. Bloody. Bruised. Hard.

Yunho climbed onto the bed behind you, spreading your legs wider. His palm came down on your ass, hard, the crack echoing and you yelped, your body jolting forward.

He growled, grabbing your throat from behind, fingers wrapping firm around it, not choking, just owning as he leaned in close to your ear, voice so low it made your spine arch.

“I don’t need church,” he whispered. “Not when I see God every time I fuck you.”

And then he slammed into you from behind. Hard. The bed shook. You screamed.

Yunho set a rhythm that had no mercy, his dick punching deep, every thrust sending shockwaves through your entire body. You could barely hold yourself up on your arms, your thighs shaking, your hands gripping the sheets like lifelines.

And in the mirror, you watched it happen. You. Bent. Spread. Eyes rolled back. Him. Hand on your throat. Blood on his mouth. Possessed.

Wrecking you like it was the only thing keeping him alive.

“Look at you,” he growled. “So fucking beautiful when you’re ruined.” He slipped your dress on off, tossing it somewhere on the floor.

Your mouth dropped open as he slapped your ass again, then gripped it to pull you back harder on his dick, fucking into you so deep your arms nearly gave out.

“Who do you belong to?” he asked, panting, voice shaking now.

“You,” you sobbed. “Yunho…. fuck, you!”

And the mirror reflected it all. Your confessional. Your surrender. Your salvation.

“Fucking perfect,” Yunho growled behind you, hips snapping into yours with a rhythm so brutal it made your vision blur. “You’re taking me so deep, baby. You feel that?”

You did. God, you did.

Every inch. Every vein. Every stretch of his dick had you clenching, fluttering, crying around him.

You could barely hold yourself up anymore, arms trembling as your body rocked forward with every thrust. The mirror still showed the wreckage, your open mouth, your glassy eyes, the way his hand on your throat kept you steady even as he unraveled you from behind.

“I can feel you about to come again,” he panted, breath catching in his throat. “This pretty little pussy’s choking me.”

You sobbed something, his name, maybe, or just a plea, and Yunho groaned, hips faltering just once as his hand slid down your belly, curling around your waist.

And he slowed. Not stopped. Not gentle.

But that punishing pace softened, replaced by something deeper. More intimate. More devastating.

His hand left your throat and slid around your front to cup your chest, pulling you up slowly until your back was flush against his chest and you were both kneeling on the bed, still joined, still locked together.

The mirror reflected everything now. Your body, shaking, your mouth, open, your skin, marked. And Yunho? A mess.

His busted lip pressed to your shoulder. His hand trembling where it gripped your breast. His eyes burning as he stared at the reflection of you both, his forehead pressed to your temple, hips grinding slower now, deeper.

Right there. Right on the edge.

“Look at us,” he whispered, voice raw and broken. “Look what we are.”

You whimpered, body so close to unraveling again you could barely breathe.

“After everything today,” he murmured, kissing your shoulder, “you’re still mine. Still here. Still letting me love you like this.”

You blinked tears. “Yunho…”

“I’m close,” he groaned. “Fuck, baby, I’m…”

He pulled out of you gently, and you gasped, ready to beg for him back, but he turned you around, guiding you down with such care it made your heart seize.

Your back hit the mattress. Your legs fell open.

And Yunho, bruised, blood stained, beautiful, hovered over you like you were the only thing in the world that could save him.

He looked into your eyes as he pushed back in, deep and slow.

You moaned, hands flying to his shoulders, your body stretching around him again like it was made to.

“I love you,” he whispered. “No one’s ever gonna touch you. Not after this.”

You nodded, tears streaking your cheeks. “Only you. Always you.”

He kissed you then, desperate, open mouthed, sweet and ruined as he started to move again. Slow. Deep. Loving.

You clung to him.

And as your body clenched around him, tight and wet and so incredibly his, you felt him gasp.

“Come with me,” he begged. “One more time, baby. Just once more.”

And you did.

Together. Wrapped in each other. Shaking, crying, kissing between gasps as he spilled into you and you shattered around him, lips whispering love and reverence like prayers as your bodies gave out.

You didn’t need anything else.

Just him.

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

The sun was pouring through the curtains in soft gold, casting lazy stripes across the bed, the sheets… the clothes still scattered all over the floor like the aftermath of a spiritual and physical exorcism.

You were half sprawled across Yunho’s chest, one thigh tossed over his waist, your mouth slack against his collarbone, his hand still curled around your hip possessively even in sleep.

He was knocked out cold, busted lip healing, but otherwise calm, peaceful.

Which was ironic.

Because last night, this bed had been ground zero for a war zone. And the mirror still across the room bore the faint handprint smudges to prove it.

It was a rare kind of silence. Too rare. The kind that should’ve been a warning. The front door opened. You didn’t stir. Neither did Yunho.

But fate didn’t need your permission today.

“Yunho, sweetheart?” a familiar voice called gently. “Are you home? You didn’t answer my calls.”

The sound of heels on hardwood. A gasp. The kind only a Korean mother with a key she wasn’t supposed to have and a deeply Catholic soul could make.

“Oh… oh sweet Virgin Mary!”

You jerked awake.

Yunho startled hard, blinking groggily, hand tightening on your thigh like he’d just woken up in a battle field. “What the fuck….”

That’s when you heard it.

“JEONG YUNHO!”

He sat up so fast he knocked your arm off his chest, blanket sliding down to reveal your entire very naked, thoroughly marked body.

And standing frozen in the doorway?

His mother.

In slacks. With a handbag. And a face that looked like she’d just seen Lucifer himself and he was balls deep in her son’s girlfriend.

“Mom?”

She raised a hand. “Don’t even, don’t you dare speak right now!”

Her eyes swept the room, his busted lip, the mirror across the room with streaks still fogged up, and the unmistakable smell of sex so thick in the air it could’ve been bottled and sold at Sephora.

You, bless your brave, exhausted, freshly fucked soul, pulled the sheet up just enough to cover your chest and rested your chin on Yunho’s shoulder.

Yunho made a choked noise as his mom’s eyes bugged.

“I… You….” she sputtered, clutching her bag like it might save her. “I came to drop off side dishes! I didn’t come to witness my son’s moral collapse!”

“Too late for that,” you mumbled under your breath.

“What was that?!”

“Nothing,” you said, batting your lashes.

Yunho groaned, dragging a hand over his face. “Mom, seriously. Why do you even have a key?”

“Because I thought my son was in need of spiritual nourishment, not….” she gestured wildly between your bodies, “living in debauchery!”

You smiled sweetly, full of pettiness. “Would you like some coffee before you go?”

She backed out of the room like she was escaping a crime scene, muttering to herself about incense and repentance and how many Hail Marys it takes to erase what she just saw.

The door slammed. Silence. And then? Yunho looked at you, utterly deadpan.

“She’s never going to cook for me again.”

You shrugged, curling back into his chest. “That’s fine. I’ll ruin your soul and your cooking standards.”

He laughed, truly laughed and kissed the top of your head.

“Worth it.”

═════════ ═════════ ═════════

permanent tag list: @straycat420 @autieofthevalley @dejatiny @hannahlilibet411 @xh01bri @jintastic-yuyu @maddycline @ultrapinkvoidbouquet @wooyoungsbrat @lucid-galaxys-world @ecriggs1990 @straytiny127 @sannies-tiddies @hannahstacos @jiminthestreets-bonesinthesheets @love--in-stayville @hartsablaze @remi-young @bubbly-moon @fvxyxnh0 @herpoetryprincess

[rems-writing]

raw or whatever his song name is

[rems-writing]

I'm sweating in places I didn't know I could sweat in

oh my GOD

[rems-writing]

ba1g_khu5h.. you’ll be paying for my therapy. 😀

[rems-writing]

who up thinking about how big jongho rlly is ... 🫦 he could manhandle u however he wants .. fold u like a pretzel ... 😛

[rems-writing]

heart eyes

[rems-writing]

will he?

pairing: song mingi x f!reader

cw: smut (18+), ex!mingi, a little angsty, dacryphilia (kinda? idk man, mingi is crying), reader has trust issues and can't commit, riding, size kink mention, oral (f!recieving), big dick!mingi, no condom, happy ending (yayyyy), communication omg, and probably more

wc: 1.9k

a/n: i got so tired by the time i reached the actual smut part sooo... if it's bad that's why. plz plz enjoy this this is my first time writing something like this and posting it so like!!! yea!!! i've been missing white haired mg for so long i couldn't help but include him in this, and i've been obsessed w will he by joji. likes reblogs and comments are so so appreciated !!

it was hell for mingi—watching you, his ex, his first love, his first everything, laugh with the two of your friends like nothing had ever happened. like you didn't break up with him, like he wasn't stuck in his house for weeks on end afterwards.

it was hell to act like everything was normal, like he was fine with sitting here, on his couch, your thigh brushing his, trying to make conversation with his friends like he was okay;

like he wasn't dying even more inside with every passing moment.

there was no way you genuinely thought this was fair, right? fair to come around, act all fine and dandy, act like just two months ago you weren't cuddled up into his side at 3AM, talking about marriage and kids and the future.

“mingi, you good?” seonghwa asked quietly, ever the caring man, his eyebrows furrowed in concern. “yeah, i.. i’m good,” mingi nodded, clearing his throat harshly and standing, causing you to look up with pinched brows of your own—

not that you let the emotion (guilt? care? mingi couldn't quite place it) linger for long, before shaking your head inconspicuously and continuing the conversation you were having with wooyoung.

a half hour had passed, yeosang, san, and hongjoong exiting the apartment, quickly followed by the rest of the boys, and finally leaving just you and mingi alone.

it was a good deed on your part, staying behind to clean up the mess everyone had left all on the floor, tables, and the couch.

but mingi thinks he'd rather have fell over dead than stand in the same room as you any longer—no, in the same building.

“...you’re mad at me,” came your soft voice after a few minutes of awkward silence, lingering in the air you made your way to the kitchen and began tidying up in there.

mingi scoffed, not able to contain the noise. “do you expect me to not be? am i meant to be happy?” he snapped back, but didn't raise his voice; he never would, not at you, no matter how bad your relationship was.

taken aback, but also understanding, you shook your head side-to-side. “no, i dont, but i don't want there to be this weird… tension every time we all hang out,” you sighed, gesturing to the air between the two of you.

mingi bit his tongue, rolling his eyes and rubbing a hand over his face. “i don't know what you want me to say,” he started, groaning and looking at you through puffy and red eyes. “you.. you were my everything, and you just.. you gave up on us.”

and with that, mingi waved you away, and headed up the hallway towards his room. it still had some of your stuff in it: a spare shirt, a sock or three, your jewelry on his dresser, the gift you got him for your first anniversary—the list goes on.

“mingi,” you called out, desperation in your voice, and hesitated before following after him. “you know that's not what it is,” you attempted to reason, stepping into the bedroom.

truthfully? you loved mingi. more than yourself. more than anything. you still loved him, you never stopped loving him. you just.. didn't trust yourself, didn't trust yourself not to hurt mingi, and look where that got you.

“oh? then what is it?” mingi laughed sarcastically, his tone harsh as he sat on the edge of the bed you two once shared, messy and clearly well-used. “because i’d sure as hell love to know.”

speechless, you swallowed, and gathered your words before sitting beside him on the bed, leaving enough room to be comfortable.

“i didn't want to hurt you, and i still ended up doing just that—hurting you,” you nearly whispered, breathing deeply. “i didn't.. trust myself with you, because you were so good, and good things don't last; not for me they don't, and i was so fucking afraid of losing you when things got tough, so i.. i decided to just get it over with before it hurt even worse.”

silence. the sound of the air conditioner blowing the only one in the room.

“i loved you,” mingi broke, and when you looked over, there were hot tears streaming down his face, only triggering your own. “and i know you loved me—you did, right?” he sobbed, hands wiping his eyes harshly and quickly.

“you know i did, mingi..” you nodded, looking down at your lap, hair hiding the tears beginning to drip down your own cheeks. “i still do.”

“then why? you know i wouldn't let anything happen to you—to us,” mingi cried harder, his voice breaking, hand shaking as it reached out and across to make you look at him. “i’ve never tried harder at anything in my life than trying to make us work—i wanted us, forever.”

“i know.. i know,” you repeated, nodding and sniffling as mingi gripped your chin, lower lip quivering, and you couldn't even make eye contact with him.

then his lips slotted against yours, perfectly, like the two of you were made to be like this. and it wasn't long before his tongue made its way into the mix, yours quick to follow.

the taste of his lips was the most familiar taste to you, your tongue tracing the plump skin; it was your morning coffee, or your nightly vitamins—cherry flavored, with a hint of strawberry, because you forced him to buy chapstick a month ago when his lips were cracked (and there wasn't a thing mingi wouldn't do for you).

“m-mingi—” you gasped out, muffled by the white-haired male’s lips, his hands on your waist, pulling you into his lap, and your hips against his.

“tell me–tell me you don't want this, don't want me, and i’ll stop,” he whispered, pulling back just enough to give you time to think.

“..i want it,” you said after hardly a second of thinking it through, diving back down and crashing your lips against his quickly, a whine escaping the man beneath you.

it wasn't long until you ended up underneath your ex-boyfriend, the position as familiar as the back of your hand. one hand holding him up above you, the other trailing down to your thighs.

“can i..?” he murmured against your neck, sucking and biting marks into the skin there, tugging at your shorts. you nodded, and he continued without a moment's notice, removing your underwear with them.

“so fucking beautiful… my pretty girl…” mingi praised on his way down, not even realizing what he was saying, kissing down your chest (when your top and bra got removed, you weren't sure), over your tits, lingering at your navel, before finally reaching where you needed him the most.

“this fucking pussy,” mingi breathed out, practically growling at this point, mouth parted like he couldn't physically hold it shut.

and when he dove in, he was drowning in your cunt; juices dripping down his chin, mixed with spit and drool, his tongue dipping deep into you before exiting to suck on your clit.

two of mingi’s fingers quickly made their way into your hole, curling against your g-spot with the first thrust inside, and the combination of him sucking and flicking your clit and his fingers had you falling over the edge quicker than you'd imagined.

“m-mingi, baby, fuck—holy–! i’m cumming,” you moaned a multitude of things, fingers pulling on the bleached strands of hair atop his head, legs fighting to clamp against his face.

“tastes s’good, fucking addictive,” mingi moaned i to your pussy, only pulling back when you began whining: “too much, too much.”

“please, mingi,” you panted, shaking as you came down from your high, but it wasn't enough. it had been months since you and mingi had sex, since you'd had sex in general, you were needy, cunt clenching around the air even after an orgasm like that.

“please what?” mingi whispered, breathing heavy, face still soaked in your juices, pupils dilated. “what is it, what can i do?” he asked, teary eyes raking over your naked and shaking body.

you reached out, yanking on the hem of his grey sweats, other hand doing the same with his tank-top. “want you, want your cock,” you whimpered, watching as mingi quickly undressed—

his cock heavy, red, and weeping as it sprung out of his boxers, long and thick. no matter how often you fucked, you could never get over the size of mingi’s cock, but today you didn't seem to care about any sort of easing in.

especially not when you pushed him down onto his back, mingi landing with a surprised grunt, and climbed atop him, balancing on your toes before grabbing his cock and lining him up with your cunt.

“oh-oh my god,” mingi sobbed out, fresh tears leaking out of his eyes. “oh my god,” he repeated endlessly, until you had him bottomed out inside of you, and even then he wasn't stopping.

“i love you, i love you, s-so much,” mingi cried, hands bracing on your hips, your own on his chest, as you began bouncing, grinding, and rolling your hips against his, mouth shaped into an ‘o’ and eyes watering.

“feels so good, you're so deep inside of me,” you mewled, knowing how much mingi loved being so much bigger than you, especially during moments like this.

your pace didn't let up once, not in the slightest, leaning down to kiss on mingi’s neck and chest, riling him up like you always used to do before.

suddenly, you found yourself falling forward, a pair of arms locked taut around your waist, and mingi’s hips pistoning up against yours now. his cock was hitting so deep, your legs shaking and endless streams of moans and shouts leaving you.

“oh, f-fuck!” you whined, choking up as you felt your second high of the evening approach.

“don't-don't leave me again,” mingi groaned through gritted teeth, one hand sliding down to grip your ass, spreading you open and kneading the skin there, his pace slowing before he flipped the two of you over and continued just as quickly.

“want this pussy forever—you forever, us,” he continued, rambling even more as he fucked you deeper and deeper, a hand sneaking down to your clit to aid you in your release.

“keep clenching down on me like tha—fuck, i’m cumming!” mingi growled, crying out and moaning insanely as he came inside or you, triggering your own release.

you moaned wantonly as you came once more, full and warm, eyes clenched shut.

you told yourself twenty minutes ago that you would leave, but you couldn't. not now.

not when your sweet boy was sprawled on top of you, sniffling and trembling, head laid on your bare chest.

“does this mean..?” he whispered hopefully, leaving the question for you to finish.

“i don't want to lose you,” mingi admitted bashfully, like half an hour earlier he wasn't talking nasty and cumming inside of you. “we can fix this—us—we can work on it, i'll help you,” he assured you quickly, lifting his head with wide eyes.

you shushed him, lying his head back down, and pressing a kiss to his nose.

a few moments passed, and mingi was beginning to lose hope, but then:

“...we can try,” you nodded quietly, voice nearly unintelligible.

and it didn't take much for mingi to fall asleep there after, head on your chest, your heartbeat in his ears, and marks blooming all over the two of your bodies.

© eightyfilm 2025

[rems-writing]

COURTESY CALL── p.sh

synopsis ; you were a tease; everyone in the band knew that and just turned a blind eye to it. but when you start making more advances towards seonghwa, he can't help but grow confused and frustrated, so during a huge afterparty that was thrown for your biggest concert, he's ready to figure out what your true feelings are.

pairing(s) ; seonghwa x f!reader

☆ ── wc. ; 5.1k ☆ ── genre ; singer!seonghwa, guitarist!reader, smut ☆ ── tw. ; MINORS DO NOT INTERACT!!!, cussing, kissing, messy makeout, oral (m. receiving), teasing, slight choking, hwa is just a lil mean, unprotected sex, rough sex, dom!seonghwa x sub!reader, slight clit play, multiple orgasms, hwa is very vocal, overstimulation, petnames (doll, sweetheart, baby...), biting/marking, big dick!seonghwa, deepthroating, slight face fucking, a bit of breath play, slight size kink, bulge kink, dirty talk, dumbification, cum eating, its just realllll messy (like really nasty), slight manhandling, lmk if I missed anything!!

“You’re such a good singer Hwa, maybe you could give me private lessons.” You had spoken those very words to the dark-haired male after practice one day, ending your sentence with a wink before strutting out of Yunho’s garage.

Seonghwa knew you were a tease, hell everyone knew that you were a tease, but there was something about the innuendo comments you would make and the lingering touch you would leave on his body that was driving him damn near mad.

This had been going on for weeks, and he was growing more and more frustrated trying to figure out if you were just being your normal teasing self or if there were more to your words and touches.

“Is it just me, or has she been worse here lately?” Yunho commented as he spun his drumsticks around his nimble fingers.

“Definitely not just you, bro,” San added in as he walked over to the fridge to grab out a can of beer, asking if either of them wanted one. “Not just that, but she’s been targeting Hwa. I fear his head might explode at this point.” San teased the older male, bumping his shoulder playfully before passing Yunho a cold can.

“I can tell if she’s just being herself or if she’s being for real.” Hwa groaned, stepping away from the mic stand and running his fingers through his hair. His heart was racing, and he could feel all of his blood rushing south as he recalled the way you had pressed yourself against his arm. “Fuck me, I’m gonna head out.”

“Alright, be safe, Hwa.” Yunho bid the male goodbye while San continued to talk about whatever.

Stepping out into the cool night air, Seonghwa tried to calm his nerves and relieve the growing tension in his pants. However, hearing footsteps, his eyes shot open only to find you a few feet away, a dead cigarette bud in between your fingers. Seeing him, you gave him a smile before walking over and leaning on the hood of San’s BMW. You had your arms situated underneath your chest just enough to make your cleavage pop out of the top of your shirt. Seonghwa bit down on his tongue hard enough that he was sure he’d draw blood.

“Leaving so soon, Hwa?” Your bottom lip jutted out in a pout, and Seonghwa had to tear his gaze away from you; there was no way that you weren’t doing this on purpose. Noticing his reaction, you couldn’t help but notice the smirk that spread across your lips. Your eyes then flickered down to where his hands were failing miserably at hiding his growing boner. Pushing yourself off the car, you walked around the hood before stopping just a few feet away from the male and catching his attention. “Get some rest, Hwa; you look like you might need it.” There was an underlying tone in your voice that he couldn’t quite make out, but when he saw your eyes flicker down, he could feel his face grow warm in embarrassment.

He opened his mouth to try to defend himself, but not a single word left his tongue, utterly lost on an excuse. However, you just winked at him once more, that same sly grin on your lips, before walking around him, leaving him standing out in the cold.

“Fucking hell.” He cursed to himself before fixing his pants and walking over to his car. Tearing the door open, he got inside with a huff before placing the key in the ignition, bringing the car to life.

He didn’t move, though, his mind preoccupied with thoughts of you and how you just couldn’t keep your mouth shut. Groaning, he peeled out of Yunho’s driveway and practically sped all the way back home.

Those same thoughts plugged his mind as he fucked his fist while hunched over in his bed. Wondering what you would sound like once he had his cock buried deep in your cunt or how good your little mouth would feel around his length. He came so much that night he was sure that you were going to the death of him, and he knew he needed to figure out whether or not you were joking around or being for real for his own sanity.

–

This same behavior only got worse as the weeks went on to the point that Seonghwa wished that the ground would just swallow him whole. However, he finally reached his breaking point whenever you were all at an ice cream parlor after practice one day, and you had quite literally licked ice cream off of the corner of his lips.

Yunho and San watched from the other side of the table in astonishment, not actually believing what they had just witnessed. You, however, just continued with the night like it was just any other normal night.

“Okay, what the fuck was that?” Yunho asked as soon as you excused yourself to go to the bathroom.

“Did she seriously just lick that ice cream off of your face?” San asked, completely bewildered and Seonghwa was at a loss for words, his heart racing under his ribs.

“Are we sure she’s just being her normal teasing self? Because that sure as hell didn’t look like it!” Yunho exclaimed, glancing between Seonghwa and San, one of which looked like his head was about to explode while the other ate his ice cream in shock.

The table fell silent for a few moments before San made a sudden ‘aha’ sound, looking over at Seonghwa with wide eyes.

“Isn’t there a huge afterparty next weekend? After our show?” He asked and Yunho perked up, recalling exactly what event San was talking about.

“Oh yeah! Maybe you can talk to her and figure out what the hell is going on.” Yunho suggested and secretly hoped that y’all would fuck because the poor man was so strung up with sexual frustration is was driving the other two insane.

“You’re right, god she’s gonna drive me to an early grave.” Seonghwa groaned, running his hands down his face before combing his hair back out of his face.

“Who’s gonna drive who to an early grave?” The sudden sound of your voice caused all three of the boys to jump, looking over at you as if they had just been caught stealing from the cookie jar.

“Oh, uh, Hwa was just talking about his sister getting on his nerves again.” San chuckled nervously, hoping that you would buy it, but there was a slight twitch in the corner of your lips as you fought off a smirk that told him you didn’t believe a word of it.

“Oh, well, hopefully, she won’t drive you to your grave yet; that’d be no fun.” You pouted, and Seonghwa swallowed thickly, only to have that catch in his throat when you leaned into the booth. His whole body went rigid as you reached to the floor to grab your bag that had ‘fallen’ before leaning up just enough to peek over the top of the table. “My roommate called; she’s having a boy emergency, so I’ve gotta dip. Don’t have too much fun without me now.” Your tone was your normal teasing tone, but when your hand was not so discreetly brushed over Seonghwa’s lap, he felt his heart stop in his chest.

Then, standing straight, you sent them all a wink before turning and strutting out of the parlor, leaving all three of the boys stunned. Seonghwa felt like his lungs were about to combust from how long he had been holding his breath, not breathing in until Yunho kicked his leg, telling him that his lips were starting to turn blue.

Inhaling deeply, he felt his lungs burn, and he prayed that he would be able to make it through this next week of rehearsals without losing his head completely. Then, hopefully, he’d be able to figure out what the hell your deal was at the party.

–

As if the gods had answered his prayers, you hadn’t been on the same bullshit that whole week, mainly focused on making sure you played all of the right notes on your guitar. Not once had you made any dirty remark or even touched the man, which he wasn’t sure what was worse at this point after getting used to your hands on him at least once during practice.

“Have they told us what time we’re gonna be on yet?” You asked, looking over at Yunho as you placed your guitar back in its case. The taller male just shook his head, saying that they hadn’t received that email yet, which in turn caused you to grumble. “Useless dickwads.” You stepped off to the side with your phone in your hand to call the venue and figure out the time.

Seonghwa’s eyes trailed after your form, watching as annoyance contorted on your face when the call was put on hold. If there was one thing that you always got serious about, it was your guys' shows; you were like a built-in manager, and the boys knew with you around, they wouldn’t have to worry about some sketch ass venue screwing you over.

“If I didn’t know any better, you’ve got heart eyes for our residential minx.” San teased the older male, bumping his shoulder as he held his bass by the neck. 

Seonghwa looked over at the younger male with a cocked eyebrow; he was sure that he felt that he was just sexually frustrated, and you were the main one feeding into it. After fucking it out, he was certain that everything would just go back to normal.

Brushing San off, he just went back to reviewing the lyrics before y’all would practice one final time that night. Then the next day was your show and the night that Seonghwa was finally going to the bottom of your little antics.

And finally, that time rolled around.

You had just finished your show about an hour ago before splitting apart to go get ready for the after-party. However, the guys, of course, showed up before you, meeting one another at the entrance. Yunho looked around the hall, searching for you just in case they had missed you, but you were nowhere to be seen.

“Is y/n not here yet?” San asked, following behind Yunho and looking around the hall, but just like the older male, he found nothing.

“You keep looking; you might just find some hidden treasure.” You teased as you walked up to the trio, your lips pulling into a playful grin when they turned to look at you. All three pairs of eyes grew wide as they took in your attire as you did a small spin, “how do I look?” You asked, fixing the short skirt just a bit, not that it did too much.

Your dress was a deep cherry red with a black corset that hugged your curves perfectly; the sleeves only covered about your mid-bicep and down, leaving your shoulders completely bare.

“You look…” Seonghwa trailed on, words dying on his tongue as you turned to look at him, causing Yunho to jab his elbow into the dark-haired male’s side.

“You look amazing, y/n.” San complemented, causing you to smile brightly, bag clutched tightly in your hands.

“Thank you, Sannie.” You then turned and looked out into the crowd, a bright gleam in your eyes, noticing almost all of the people there, “you guys ready to mingle? Might be our chance to hit it big.” You gave them a determined smile before stepping towards Seonghwa, whose jaw tightened the closer you got.

“We’ll go find the drinks and you guys go talk to the famous people,” Yunho spoke hurriedly before shoving San along the way despite his protests.

Tilting your head, you watched as they walked off before turning back to Seonghwa, “must be thirsty, but what did you think, Hwa? Is it too much?” You asked the male, holding your arms up slightly, causing the ends of your dress to creep up.

“You look beautiful, but don’t you think it’s maybe too… short?” He asked almost cautiously, and you just looked up at him with doe eyes before looking down at yourself.

“Is it?” You asked, looking back up at him through your eyelashes, a teasing undertone in your voice. However, he didn’t get a chance to respond before you grabbed his arm, wrapping yourself around the limb and walking further into the large banquet hall. 

Further into the night, it seemed like you were just trying to push Seonghwa’s buttons; those once lingering touches turned into an intentional caress, and almost everything you said to him held a deeper meaning.

“Hwa is an amazing singer, knows just all of the right notes to hit.” You told a man that he had seen numerous times on television.

He was trying his best to keep up with you in conversations but was also fighting for his life every time that you would step back, knowing full well that he was right behind you, brushing your body over his, but more specifically, your ass kept hitting his crotch making it impossible to keep all of the blood from rushing south.

“Y/n.” His tone was one of warning as you pressed yourself back against him once again, his hands, this time, finding your hips to keep you in place. Your body shuddered as you felt his warm breath fan over the shell of your ear when he bent down, “Stop teasing, or I will not hesitate to drag you out of here.” He growled, finally having enough of your teasing, his muscles tense from trying to stop from popping a boner.

“But I’m not even doing anything, Hwa; why are you being mean?” You pouted, looking up at him with faux doe eyes, but he could see the mischievous gleam in those same eyes.

“That’s it.” In the next moment he had his hand wrapped around your wrist and was pulling you towards the doors of the banquet hall, not caring for the stares that the two of you were receiving.

Seonghwa didn’t say a word as he dragged you down the hall, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement rush through your body. You had finally managed to make him snap, but you knew you could push his buttons just a little bit more.

“Hwa, where are we going? The party is that way.” You pointed over your shoulder but the taller male didn't say a word as he stopped in front of a hotel room and dug into his pocket before pulling out a keycard.

Heat flushed over your body as you watched him open the door in anticipation, and as soon as the door was open, he roughly pulled you into the room. Slamming the door shut behind you, he pushed you back against it, trapping you.

“Hwa–”

“Shut up.” He hissed before smashing his lips into yours, stealing all of the air out of your lungs. His hands gripped at your hips, pulling your body flush against his as your arms wrapped around his neck.

Seonghwa could’ve sworn that he was gonna go insane the moment a whimper fell from your lips when he bit down on your bottom lip. The sound went straight to his dick, which was straining hard against his pants.

You gasped when his hand on your lower back pulled you closer, causing you to feel him against your lower abdomen. He was bigger than you, that much you knew, but you never realized just how much bigger he was until this moment.

“Hwa.” You breathed out as his lips trialed from your lipstick-smeared lips to your jaw before finding a purchase on your neck. Your hands tugged at his suit jacket as the heat of the moment was starting to become overbearing.

It took no time for the both of you to make your way further into the hotel room; Seonghwa shrugged out of his shoes and suit jacket before letting you undo the buttons of his button-up. However, before he could take it off, you pushed him down on the edge of the bed.

You then stepped back, kicking off your heels before reaching behind you to grab the zipper of your dress. Seonghwa watched you with borderline predatory eyes as you pulled it down slowly, the sound almost overbearing and his patience starting to wear thin.

As soon as the zipper was done, you pulled your arms out of the sleeves before letting the dress drop to the ground, the fabric pooling at your feet. You stood there in nothing but your underwear seeing as you weren’t wearing a bra.

“Fuck.” Seonghwa cursed, palming himself through his slacks as he took in your body and you couldn’t help but almost feel shy under his intense gaze. His eyes then flickered back up to your face when he realized that he could finally live out the fantasy he had been thinking of almost every night. “C’mere doll.”

Your body automatically obeyed his command, stepping out of your dress and moving towards him. When you stopped in front of him, his hands found your hips, squeezing the soft flesh before letting his hand trail up your stomach and up between your breasts until he found your throat. A small gasp fell from your lips when he pulled you forward, and your knees buckled, causing you to drop to the ground in front of him.

“Much better,” He spoke softly, but the dark gleam in his eyes left a chill running down your spine. He let up on your neck before cupping your jaw, thumb brushing over your lips. “Now, I want to see how pretty you look with your lips around my dick. You can do that for me, can’t you, sweetheart?”

A borderline sadistic chuckle fell from his lips when you nodded, opening your mouth just enough for his thumb to slip inside. He pressed down on your tongue as you closed your lips around his digit, the sight was something beyond his imagination, but god, did it make him hard as a fucking rock.

He bit back a groan when you whined as he took his thumb from your lips a ring of red lipstick left behind on his skin. You pouted up at him but then your eyes flickered down to the obvious tent in his slack and you could feel your mouth start to water.

Rising up on your knees, you reached for his belt, quickly undoing the buckle despite the shakiness of your hands. Seonghwa just watched in amusement as you frantically tried to undo his slacks as quickly as possible. Once the button was undone and the zipper pulled down, he raised his hips, allowing you to wrap your fingers around the waistband of his slacks and boxers before pulling them down.

A cute little gasp fell from your swollen lips when his cock sprung free, almost hitting your cheek. Your eyes went wide as you took in his size, he was in every way bigger than any other man you had been with and a small seed of doubt started to grow in your head.

Noticing the conflict in your eyes, Seonghwa quickly kicked his pants and boxer off before reaching forward to place a gentle hand on top of your head. Looking up at him, you felt your core quiver at the endearing yet dominant expression on his face.

“You can take it, can’t you, doll? Hmm?” He hummed, petting your head softly, and you felt your heart flutter, and you instantly started to nod despite the uncertainty that settled in the pit of your stomach. You weren’t sure you’d be able to take him fully, but you’d sure as hell try. “Good girl. Now…” He moved his hand from your head down to your jaw once more, thumb pressing against your lips. “Open your mouth.”

Complying, you relaxed your jaw and parted your lips, sticking your tongue out just a bit, and Seonghwa gritted his teeth at your dazed eyes. Grabbing himself at the base, he slapped the head of his cock against your tongue before laying it on the wet muscle, letting you wrap your lips around him.

“Fuckkk.” He let out a low groan as you took more of him into your mouth; it took all of his willpower to not bust right then and there from how fucking phenomenal your mouth felt. It was nothing like he could have ever imagined.

Your tongue swirled around his tip before lowering your head once more, taking as much of him in your mouth as you could. Tears stung in your eyes when he hit the back of your throat, causing you to gag lightly. The heavenly moan that fell from the dark-haired male’s lips left you squirming in your spot. Your panties were soaked at this point.

Seonghwa looked down at you with hooded eyes as you pulled back to breathe, tongue pressing right along the underneath of his heavy cock. Biting his lip, he sat up just a bit as you took him fully in your mouth once more, but still not quite all of the way.

“C’mon doll, you can do better than that.” He breathed out, grabbing your hair and pulling it out of your face so he could see you clearly. His other hand brushed along your jaw, dark eyes trained on where your lips were wrapped around him. “Relax your jaw… there ya go, good girl.” He cooed, and you whined around him as he pushed your head down more until he completely invaded your throat, and your nose brushed against his pelvic bone. Tears blurred your vision before flowing down your cheeks from the lack of oxygen.

“Fucking hell, your mouth feels so damn good.” He groaned, holding your head in place, relishing in the way your throat contracted around him and the cute little tears that fell from your eyes as you looked up at him. After a few moments, he finally let up his grip before allowing you to pull up, but not fully off.

The sound and vibrations of your muffled moans and whines only spurred him on as he helped you take his length once more.

“Gonna cum in this pretty little mouth of yours.” He growled, sheathing himself fully in your mouth once more before his dick twitched against your tongue. “Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck!” He moaned out as you grabbed his balls, giving them a gentle squeeze, and he came, painting the back of your throat white.

His hold finally relented, and you pulled off with a wet ‘pop,’ sputtering as you tried your best to swallow all of his cum, but there was just too much. Some of it coated your lips and chin, dripping down onto your breast, and Seonghwa thought he could cum once more just from the sight alone, his dick already growing hard once more.

“Holy hell.” He groaned, reaching out to wipe some of the cum and saliva cocktail on your chin off before shoving it back into your awaiting mouth. He watched with dark eyes as you sucked it off of his digit, and once it was all off, he pulled you up.

Your hands fell on his shoulders as you straddled his lap, lips instantly finding his in a messy kiss. His hands gripped your hips as he groaned at the taste of himself on your tongue. Fuck, it was hot, too hot, and he felt like he was about to combust.

“Hwa.” You whined as his lips trailed down your neck, licking up the stray drops of his own cum off of your chest before kissing you with full force. His tongue indeed your mouth, tasting every last inch of you he could reach.

He groaned into your mouth when your hips rolled against his in desperate need of some relief from your growing need. His hands landed on your ass, helping you grind against him, swallowing all of your little mewls and whines.

“God, you look so fucking beautiful like this.” He groaned, his senses going into overdrive as you leaned down, lips latching onto the skin of his neck. His whole body shuddered as you bit down on the junction of his neck before lapping at the wound.

“Need you, Hwa, please.” You moaned, fingers digging into his skin when his thumb pressed down on your clothed clit. The need was starting to become overbearing, leaving your brain hazy as you begged him to fuck you.

“Do you need my cock doll?” He cooed as you buried your face in his neck, but you mewled out a ‘yes,’ causing him to chuckle. He stopped your movements, eliciting another muffled whine from your lips, but you were quickly silenced when he moved your panties to the side, not even bothering to take them off.

He lifted your hips with ease before using his free hand to pull your head out of his neck, “I wanna see your face when you sink down on my cock, sweetheart.”

You looked at him with hooded eyes before reaching down to line his aching cock with your entrance before slowly sinking down. Your jaw fell slack as he slowly filled your tight cunt. The stretch almost burned if it wasn’t for your slick.

“Hwa! Oh my god! You’re so big!” You cried out as you continued to take him into your needy cunt. Your words only stroked the man’s ego as he smirked at you. He didn’t even have you fully seated on him and you were already starting to lose yourself, it was quite the sight.

“C’mon baby, you’re almost there.” He cooed, brushing your hair out of your face as your eyes rolled back when you fully sank down on his cock. “There ya go, such a good little thing.” His words went straight to your pussy, causing you to clench around him, a pathetic moan falling from your lips.

“So f-full.” You choked out, legs quivering on either side of his hips. He felt like he was in your womb, and he might as well be as his tip pushed against your cervix, threatening to break through.

Seonghwa smirked, pulling your face to his and latching his lips onto yours in a mess kiss that was more teeth than anything else. His hand then fell to your hip, slowly rocking you against him, and your whole body fell forward from the overwhelming pleasure. No matter how little he moved he was still hitting all of the right places to have you seeing stars.

Looking down, he caught sight of something that had his cock twitching in your walls; there at the bottom of your tummy was a prominent bulge. He cussed to himself as he watched it move as he rolled your hips, soaking in all of the cute little noises that you were making.

“H-Hwa!” You choked out when he lifted your hips before letting you drop back down, his eyes still on the bulge.

“Fuck. Look, sweetheart.” He grabbed the back of your neck, pulling you out of his neck before making you look down. Your walls clenched around his length as you took in what he was showing you, your hand reaching down to press against it only to make the both of you moan.

“You’re so deep, Hwa.” You croaked out, looking up at him with hazy eyes, tears still flowing down your flushed cheeks, and he felt his sanity snap.

“Hold on, doll,” He instructed, and you looked at him in confusion until he lifted your hips until they were hovering over him and thrust up into you sharply.

A series of broken and loud moans fall from your lips as he sets a brutal pace, fucking up into your cunt like his life depended on it. Your eyes rolled back as your body slumped forward, all of your muscles feeling as if they were jelly.

“F-Fuck! Hwa, s-slow down!” You cried out, your mind short-circuiting from how quickly your orgasm was creeping up on you. It felt as if your entire being was on the verge of combusting.

“I’m sorry baby, I can’t; you just feel too good.” He moaned, wrapping his arm around your body. Your body felt like heaven wrapped around him, and he felt as if he was going insane. His lips latched onto the skin of your neck as he felt you shudder against him, a loud moan ripping from your throat as your orgasm hit you like a tidal wave.

“That’s it, baby, let go. Let it all go.” He talked you through it as his hips kept their relentless pace, easily throwing your body into a state of overstimulation. Choked sobs fell from your lips as your nails raked down his back, the pleasure driving you to the brink of insanity. The edges of your vision turned white when you felt another orgasm building rapidly. “I’m gonna fill you up so much that you’ll be dripping for days.” He groaned right in your ear, and you didn’t even get the chance to even warn him before your high came crashing down once again, your whole body trembling as Seonghwa pulled your body flush against his, cumming deep in your walls.

Your ears started to ring as you completely lay against Seonghwa. All of the bones in your body were rendered useless. Seonghwa’s hands smoothed over your sides, comforting you until you fully came down from your high.

“Hwa…” Your voice was hoarse as you spoke, causing him to turn his head, finding you staring up at him. “I think I love you.” You told him bluntly causing him to let out a short laugh, hands stopping at your hips.

“Right, try telling me that again when you’re not stuffed full of my cock.” He shook his head, jaw tight as annoyance started to creep into his mind.

Blinking slowly, you lift your body and reach forward, cupping his face in your hands and making him look at you. He felt his breath catch in his throat at the sincerity and admiration that gleamed in your eyes.

“I’m serious, Hwa; why else do you think I was trying so hard to get your attention?” You spoke softly, scared that he might tell you to fuck off, but much to your relief, he leaned forward, connecting his forehead with yours.

“I love you too, doll, even when you drive me absolutely insane.” He omitted, causing you to laugh softly before leaning forward to capture his lips in a gentle kiss. His hands held you close as the both of you savored the moment, even if it led to a very long night and you losing your walking privileges the next day.

© 𝐬𝐭𝐱𝐫𝐫𝐲𝐰𝐨𝐨 𝟐𝟎𝟐𝟓 | 𝙙𝙤 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙨𝙩𝙚𝙖𝙡, 𝙥𝙡𝙖𝙜𝙞𝙖𝙧𝙞𝙨𝙚, 𝙩𝙧𝙖𝙣𝙨𝙡𝙖𝙩𝙚, 𝙤𝙧 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙤𝙨𝙩 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙢𝙮 𝙬𝙤𝙧𝙠

𝐃𝐢𝐬𝐜𝐥𝐚𝐢𝐦𝐞𝐫 : 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙣𝙤 𝙬𝙖𝙮 𝙖 𝙩𝙧𝙪𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙥𝙧𝙚𝙨𝙚𝙣𝙩𝙖𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙤𝙛 𝙖𝙣𝙮 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙢𝙚𝙢𝙗𝙚𝙧𝙨. 𝙩𝙝𝙞𝙨 𝙞𝙨 𝙥𝙪𝙧𝙚𝙡𝙮 𝙛𝙞𝙘𝙩𝙞𝙤𝙣 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙛𝙤𝙧 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙚𝙣𝙟𝙤𝙮𝙢𝙚𝙣𝙩 𝙤𝙛 𝙩𝙝𝙚 𝙧𝙚𝙖𝙙𝙚𝙧 𝙖𝙣𝙙 𝙣𝙤𝙩 𝙩𝙤 𝙗𝙚 𝙩𝙖𝙠𝙚𝙣 𝙨𝙚𝙧𝙞𝙤𝙪𝙨𝙡𝙮

[rems-writing]

DM me, pookie. Spill all the tea. I need details now 👁👁

Flirting with a man after years??? Oh he’s flustering me but I feel like it’s too good to be true lmaoo

[rems-writing]

So he's a head pusher... noted ✍️🏽

Mingi Can you not ?

[rems-writing]

Oops, Accidentally kidnapped a Mafia Boss

Summary: You and your friends accidentally kidnap the Captain of ATEEZ, mistaking him as your friend.

Fandom: Ateez

Pairing: Hongjoong x Reader

Genre: Fluff, Comedy, Romance, Crack treated seriously

Word count: 3k~

Warnings: Mentions of organized crime, kidnapping (accidental), mild language, brief mentions of violence (non-graphic).

Disclaimer: This is a work of fiction. I do not own ATEEZ or any of the members. This story does not reflect the real personalities or lives of the idols and is purely for entertainment purposes. Please don’t actually kidnap anyone🙏, even your friends.

“I’m telling you, something’s up with Minho,” Jisu whispered, leaning across the library table.

“He’s been sneaking around for weeks, and did you see that expensive watch he was wearing yesterday?”

You glanced up from your textbook, interested despite trying not to. Your friend group had always been close with no secrets, so Minho’s recent stealthiness has been unusual.

“Maybe he just got a part-time job?”

“A part-time job that has him getting picked up in luxury cars?” you scoffed. “No way. He’s definitely seeing someone rich.”

“Or dangerous,” Jisu added dramatically. “What if he’s gotten involved with the wrong crowd?”

The thought sent a chill down you and your friends spine. You’d all heard the rumors about organized crime in the city, though it seemed like something from movies rather than real life. But Minho had been acting strange lately, nervous and jumpy, always looking over his shoulder.

“We need to find out what’s going on,” you decided. “For his own safety.”

So, your friend group had hatched what you thought was a brilliant plan: stage a fake kidnapping to get Minho to spill about his mysterious endeavor. It may be idiotic, but if your friend group had one single thing in common, that’d be all of your stupidity.

That’s how you found yourself crouched behind Taehyun's van three days later, watching the entrance of a fancy upscale restaurant. “There’s the car,” Taehyun pointed to a sleek black car. “Same model he’s been getting into.”

Your heart hammered as a figure in a black hoodie emerged from the car. Same height, same build as Minho. This was it.

“Remember, we’re just going to scare him a little,” you whispered to your friends. “Get him to talk.”

The plan went surprisingly smoothly. As you and Taehyun bundled him into his beat-up van Jisoo was holding up a sign that said “We’re pulling a prank on our friend”. The hooded figure didn’t struggle much. He seemed almost… cooperative? You chalked it up to shock.

“Minho, we’re sorry about this, but you left us no choice,” you said, once you’d gotten your captive friend into Taehyun’s basement.

“We’re worried about you, and we need answers.”

Now, the figure sat calmly in the chair, hands zip-tied behind his back. Wearing a black pillowcase, he hadn’t said a word during the entire drive.

“Come on, stop giving us the silent treatment,” Jisoo pleaded. “We know you’re mixed up in something dangerous.”

When he still didn’t respond, you stepped forward. “Um, can someone tell me why we covered up Minho’s face?” you asked, looking at your friends, confused.

“I don’t know, that’s how they do it in the movies.”

You stared at him in disbelief for a moment. “Are you an idiot? They do that so the captive can’t identify the kidnappers. Minho already knows our faces- We’ve been friends for years!”

“Oh.” Taehyun looked sheepish. “Right. That makes sense.”

“Did you even thi- Is that my pillowcase?” you hissed.

“Yes, I panicked! I’ve never kidnapped anyone before!”

“None of us have!” Jisoo added weakly from the corner.

The captive’s shoulders shook slightly, and for a moment, you thought he might be crying. Then you realized he was… laughing? A soft, amused chuckle that somehow made the whole situation even more surreal.

You reached out and pulled off the pillowcase and his hood fell off on its own.

The face that looked back at you was definitely not Minho.

Unique features, blonde hair, and eyes so sharp that seemed to see right through you. The stranger’s lips curved into an amused smile. The man had an ethereal beauty in a dangerous way, the power of his aura making your blood run cold.

“Oh shit,” Taehyun breathed. “Oh shit, oh shit, oh shit.”

“Well, this is interesting,” the stranger spoke, his voice smooth and low. “I was expecting dinner, not dinner theater.”

Jisu’s eyes went wide with panic. “We need to call the police. We need to-”

“Jisu!”

You grabbed her arms, giving her a little shake.

“Calm down! Are we gonna call the police on ourselves? ‘Hi officer, we just kidnapped someone by accident, please come arrest us.’?”

“But we can’t just-”

“Think about it,” you said urgently. “We literally committed a crime. Multiple crimes. Kidnapping, false imprisonment, probably something else that I’m not even thinking of right now.”

“Oh god,” Taehyun whimpered. “We’re going to prison.”

You let go of Jisu’s arms to turn to the stranger.

“Who are you?” you managed to ask, though a part of you dreaded the answer.

“Kim Hongjoong,” he replied, as if that should mean something to total strangers.

But it did. Even you-who lives in a cave- had heard whispers of that name in circles around the city. Kim Hongjoong, Captain of ATEEZ, leader of the most powerful criminal organizations in the country.

You and your idiotic friend group had accidentally kidnapped a mafia boss.

“Well.... The police is not a problem anymore. We are so dead,” Taehyun whimpered. “We’re actually going to die.”

“Nobody’s dying,” Hongjoong said, sounding almost bored. “Though I admit, this is a first for me. Usually, when people take me somewhere against my will, they at least know who I am.”

You forced yourself to think clearly despite the panic clawing at your chest. “We apologize. We will let you go immediately. This was a mistake. We thought you were someone else.”

“Oh, I gathered that much.” His eyes glinted with amusement. “Minho, right? Friend of yours?”

The fact that he’d been listening carefully enough to remember all the names somehow made everything worse.

“Listen,” you said. “We’re just college students. We were trying to prank our friend.”

“By kidnapping him?” Hongjoong raised an eyebrow. “Interesting friend group.”

“We’re idiots,” Jisu said bluntly. “Complete idiots who make terrible decisions.”

“I can see that.” Hongjoong tested the zip ties around his wrists, and you had the distinct impression he knew how to break free whenever he wanted. “But I’m curious entertain me for a bit. What exactly did you think your friend Minho was involved in?”

You hesitated. There was something about Hongjoong’s calm demeanor that was more unsettling than anger would have been. “We thought… maybe he was seeing someone he shouldn’t be. Someone dangerous.” Taehyun spoke first. You gave him a look.

“Dangerous how?”

“Like…” you swallowed hard. “Like you.”

Hongjoong laughed, a genuine sound that transformed his entire face. “What made you think so?”

“The cars, the expensive things he couldn't buy from his paycheck alone, the way he’s been acting nervous and secretive.” You found yourself answering honestly, drawn in despite your terror. “We were worried about him.”

“Concern for a friend,” Hongjoong mused. “I respect that.”

“So you’ll let us go?” Taehyun asked hopefully.

“I didn’t say that.” Hongjoong’s expression grew serious. “You see, you’ve put me in an interesting position. My people are probably looking for me by now. When they find out some college kids managed to ‘kidnap’ me, well… it might damage my reputation.”

The temperature in the room seemed to drop several degrees.

“What do you want then?” you asked.

“I want to see how this plays out,” Hongjoong said. “Consider it my entertainment of the day.”

Over the next few hours, you learned that having a mafia boss as a captive was nothing like what you thought. Hongjoong was patient, observant, and far too comfortable with the situation. He asked questions about your studies, your friends, your life, as if you were having coffee and catching up with an old friend rather than holding him against his will.

“You’re studying business?” he asked when Taehyun mentioned your major.

“Economics, actually. With a minor in psychology.”

“Useful combination. Ever consider applying those skills in a more… entrepreneurial environment?”

You stared at him. “Are you offering me a job?”

“I’m just making casual conversation.”

Your phone buzzed with a text from Minho: "Hey, thanks for covering for me with the study group. The date was amazing! I’ll tell you everything tomorrow." Your face fell reading the message. The irony wasn’t lost on you. While you’d been shitting bricks for kidnapping the wrong person, Minho had been on a happily innocent date.

“Bad news?” Hongjoong asked, noticing your expression.

“The person we were trying to kidnap is on a date,” you said weakly.

“Ah. And here I thought you were criminal masterminds.”

“We’re really not cut out for this,” Jisu muttered.

“No,” Hongjoong agreed. “But you’re not entirely hopeless either. You managed to get me here, after all.”

“By accident!”

“Still counts.” He tilted his head. “Though I am curious how you plan to get out of this situation.”

Before you could give an answer, the basement door burst open. A tall man with broad shoulders and sharp eyes descended the stairs, followed by two others. You take a guess that they’re members of ATEEZ.

“Boss,” one said, relief evident in his voice. “We’ve been looking everywhere for you.”

“Hello, Seonghwa,” Hongjoong said calmly. “Meet my kidnappers.”

The tension in the room ratcheted up immediately. The newcomers’ eyes swept over you and your friends with professional assessment.

“They’re just kids,” younger-looking one said, with kind eyes that seemed at odds with his imposing presence.

“Kids who managed to grab me off the street,” Hongjoong pointed out. “I’m almost impressed.”

“It was an accident,” you said quickly. “We mistook him for our friend.”

Seonghwa’s expression softened slightly this time showing his confusion. “You kidnap your frie- Wait, you thought our boss was your friend?”

“Same car, same build, same hoodie,” Taehyun explained miserably. “We’re really, really sorry.”

“Sorry doesn’t usually cut it in our line of work,” the second tall man said, though he didn’t sound particularly threatening.

“Jeong Yunho,” Hongjoong said sharply. “Stand down. All of you.”

The use of that name made you freeze. Yunho. You heard Minho mention that specific name more than once recently, hushed in phone calls and always with a strange expression.

“Hey guys,” you turned to look at your friend group. “Correct me if I’m wrong, but we haven’t heard Minho mentioning a Yunho, have we?”

The silence that followed was deafening.

“Well,” Hongjoong said after a moment. “This just got interesting.”

“Excuse me but... Do you happen to have met someone named Im Minho recently..?” Jisoo asked

Yunho stepped forward, his expression sour. “My sister Yuna has been dating some guy named Minho. She made me promise not to tell anyone.”

“And you didn’t think to mention this to us?” Seonghwa asked dryly.

“I didn’t think it was relevant!” Yunho scratched his head.

“Your sister’s boyfriend’s friends kidnapping our boss isn’t relevant?” The third man, whom you now realized was there, looked incredulous.

You felt like you were watching a surreal comedy unfold. “I mean.. I don’t think anyone could have guessed that’s what would’ve happened, even we didn’t.”

“So Minho’s been nervous because he’s dating into a mafia family?” Taehyun said sounding defeated.

“She’s not technically in the family,” Yunho said quickly. “She’s just… adjacent.”

“Adjacent to murder and extortion,” Jisu whispered.

“We don’t actually murder people that often,” Yeosang said, then caught Hongjoong’s look. “I mean, we’re legitimate businessmen.”

“Right,” you said weakly.

Hongjoong was studying you with renewed interest. “You figured out the connection so quickly, I'm impressed. It could have been any Yunho. And most people would still be panicking to even think about it like that.”

“I’m panicking, alright,” you admitted. “But panicking doesn’t solve my problems.”

“No, it doesn’t.” He seemed to come to a decision. “Seonghwa, cut these ties. We’re done here.”

“For the record, we offered to untie him. It was completely his decision to stay like that.” Jisoo added quickly.

“Boss-”

“They’re not a threat. They’re barely competent criminals.”

“Hey!” Taehyun protested.

“It wasn’t meant as an insult,” Hongjoong said as Seonghwa freed his hands.

“Competent criminals would have researched their target. Also you should take my words seriously and stop kidnapping anyone ever again.”

As the zip ties fell away, you expected him to leave immediately. Instead, he remained seated, calmly rubbing his wrists.

“What happens now?” you asked.

“Now you forget this ever happened,” Seonghwa said firmly. “You go back to your normal lives, and we pretend this never happened.”

“What about Minho?” Jisu asked. “Is he safe?”

“He’s dating my sister,” Yunho said. “She’d kill me if anything happened to him.”

“Literally,” Yeosang added.

“Not helping,” Hongjoong muttered.

You thought that would be the end of it. A crazy story to tell someday, maybe, when the statute of limitations runs out. But as days passed, you found yourself thinking about Kim Hongjoong more than you wanted to admit. The way he’d handled the situation with calm authority. The intelligence in his eyes. The way he seemed genuinely interested in your thoughts and opinions, even while zip-tied to a chair. You slapped your cheeks for even thinking about him like that. That situation wasn't supposed to be grounds for developing a crush, even if he is someone attractive.

Minho, in the meantime, had finally came clean about his girlfriend. “Her name is Yuna,” he’d said, glowing with happiness. “She’s amazing, but her family situation is… somehow complicated.”

“Complicated how?” you’d asked, though you already knew.

“Her brother is a part of a business. A dangerous business. But he’s not what you’d expect; he’s just really protective of her, and he’s been nothing but respectful to me.”

You’d nearly choked on your coffee. The idea of that Yunho guy as a protective big brother was somehow both endearing and terrifying.

“Just be careful,” you’d told him. “Some complications are harder to untangle than others.”

But it was advice you apparently needed to take yourself.

You’d been walking home from your evening class when a familiar car pulled up beside you. The same one from that day at the restaurant. The window rolled down, revealing a familiar face.

“Get in,” Hongjoong said.

“Is that a request or an order?” you asked, though you were already reaching for the door handle.

“Does it matter?”

You slid into the passenger seat, noting the expensive interior and the subtle scent of his cologne inside the car. “Are you kidnapping me now? Because turnabout is fair play, I suppose.”

“For the records, this is not kidnapping.” he said, pulling back into traffic. “You came willingly.”

“Where are we going?”

“Somewhere we can talk without interruption.” he said simply.

You studied his profile in the glow of the streetlights while he drove in comfortable silence, finally parking at a lookout point that offered a view of the city lights. It was beautiful and romantic, which seemed at odds with everything you knew about him.

“Why did you really let us go that day?” you asked.

“You were harmless,” he said simply. “Misguided, but harmless.”

“That’s not the whole truth.”

He turned to look at you, and you felt that familiar flutter of nerves mixed with something else–something that felt dangerously like attraction.

“You impressed me,” he admitted. “Most people would have been crying or begging or trying to bargain. You stayed calm, asked intelligent questions, and put your friends’ safety before your own.”

“I was terrified.”

“I know. But you didn’t let it control you.”

“Is that what you want to talk about?”

“I want to talk about whether you’d be interested in seeing more of it.”

Your heart stopped. “What?”

“I’m offering you a choice,” he said quietly. “Walk away now, go back to your normal life, and we’ll never cross paths again. Or…”

“Or?”

“Or take a chance on something different. Something dangerous.”

You stared at him, trying to process what he was saying. “You’re asking me to… what? Join your organization?”

“I’m asking you to get to know me,Not the organization” he said. “The real me. without the reputation or the rumors, but the person underneath.”

“And if I don’t like what I find?”

“Then you walk away. No questions asked, no consequences.”

It was insane. You knew it was insane. You also didn't believe his words about consequences and whatnot. But looking at him in the dim light of the car, you realized you’d already made your decision days ago, sitting in that basement, watching him turn a terrifying situation into something almost… fun.

“Okay,” you said.

“Okay?”

“I want to get to know the real Kim Hongjoong.”

His smile was soft and genuine, transforming his entire face. “Then we’d better start with dinner. Somewhere nicer than a basement this time.”

END

BONUS PART:

You and Hongjoong were at a small Italian place he’d discovered, tucked away from the main streets. The conversation was light, comfortable until his phone rang.

“I’m sorry,” he said, glancing at the screen. “I need to take this.”

He stepped outside, but you could see him through the window. His posture changed immediately. Shoulders tense, expression serious. When he came back, the easy-going atmosphere was gone.

“I have to go,” he said. “Something’s come up.”

“Work?” you asked.

“Yes.”

“The dangerous kind?”

He paused, meeting your eyes. “Potentially.”

“Then I’m coming with you.”

“Absolutely not.”

“Hongjoong,” you said firmly. “If we’re going to do this -really do this- then I need to understand your world. All of it.”

He studied you for a long moment. “You might not like what you see.”

“Then that’s my choice to make.”

After another pause, he nodded. “Okay. But you stay in the car, and you do exactly what I tell you. No questions, no arguments.”

“Agreed.”

The drive took you to a warehouse district you’d never seen before. Hongjoong parked outside a building that looked abandoned from the outside, but you could see lights in the windows.

“What’s happening?” you asked.

“A negotiation,” he said. “A business deal that’s gone sideways.”

“Do I wanna ask what kind of business?”

“Not really, no.” he said evasively.

He made a quick phone call, and soon Seonghwa appeared at the car window.

“Status?” Hongjoong asked.

“They’re being unreasonable,” Seonghwa replied. “Demanding twice what we agreed on, threatening to go to our competitors.”

“And our leverage?”

“Minimal. They know we need this deal.”

Hongjoong was quiet for a moment, thinking. “Options?”

“We could walk away, find another supplier. It would take time, but it’s doable.”

“Or?”

“Or we accept their new terms and eat the loss.”

You listened to the exchange with growing confusion. This sounded like any business negotiation, not the violent confrontation you’d expected.

“What about a compromise?” you found yourself saying. “If they’re demanding twice the price, maybe there’s a middle ground that works for everyone.”

Both men turned to look at you.

“What kind of compromise?” Seonghwa asked.

“Well, what do they want the extra money for?” you said. “If it’s just greed, that’s one thing. But if they have legitimate concerns like increased costs, higher risks, whatever. Then maybe you can address those directly instead of just paying more.”

Hongjoong smiled slowly. “That’s… actually not a bad idea.”

“It’s a great idea,” Seonghwa said. “Why didn’t we think of that?”

“So what’s the actual business?” you asked. “What are you buying?”

Hongjoong and Seonghwa exchanged a look.

“Information,” Hongjoong said finally.

The negotiation ended up being surprisingly straightforward. Hongjoong agreed to a modest price increase and a longer timeline, and everyone walked away satisfied.

“That was almost anticlimactic,” you said as you drove away.

“Most of our work is,” Hongjoong admitted. “The dangerous reputation is useful, but actual violence is usually a last resort. It’s messy, it’s expensive, and it tends to attract unwanted attention.”

“Are you disappointed?” he asked quietly.

“That you’re not a psychopath? Not really.”

“That I’m not as dangerous as advertised.”

You considered this. “You’re still dangerous,” you said finally. “Just in a different way.”

“How so?”

“You’re dangerous to my peace of mind. To my plans for a normal, boring life. To my heart.”

His hand found yours across the gear shift. “Is that a bad thing?”

“I don’t know yet,” you admitted. “But I’m willing to find out.”

Author's Note: I had a thought 👏👏 and wrote this sleep deprived also i don't have a beta reader so i had to check this myself. There might be lots of grammar errors so sorry about that. English is my second language and i have been focusing on learning korean so my english might have gotten rusty. I saw that reverse cliche tropes post and had to do something about it. ♡

🫟 If you enjoy this hot mess, reblog's are appreciated!

[rems-writing]

Unnoticed

Summary: When the campus heartthrob fails to catch your attention despite his best efforts, he decides to ditch his perfect image for something real. It’s only after his transformation from it boy to the quiet guy with glasses in your library corner that you finally start to notice him and discover that the most genuine connections happen when someone stops trying so hard to be perfect.

Pairing: Choi San x Reader

Genre: College AU, fluff, slice of life

Word count: 2.6k~

Warnings: None, just pure fluff and soft feelings

When you took notice of The Choi San, he was standing in the middle of the campus quad with his perfectly styled black hair catching the afternoon sunlight. A small crowd had gathered around him. Mostly girls giggling and whispering, but a few guys too, all drawn to whatever magnetic pull he seemed to have.

You paused on your way to the library, textbooks clutched against your chest, and watched as he flashed that famous smile of his. Even from a distance, you could see how his eyes crinkled at the corners, how effortlessly charming his dimples looked as he was chatting with his admirers.

San was the guy on campus. Star of the dance club, decent grades, and blessed with the kind of voice and looks that made people do double takes in the hallway. You’d been in a few classes together over the past two years, but you were pretty sure he didn’t even know your name.

“Earth to Y/N,” your friend Mina said, appearing beside you with an amused grin. “Staring at San again?”

“I wasn’t staring,” you protested, though your cheeks warmed. “I was just observing... campus social dynamics.”

Mina laughed. “Right. Come on, let’s go study. Some of us actually have to work for our grades instead of coasting on natural charm.”

As you walked away, you missed the way San’s gaze had found your back in the crowd, the way his confident smile faltered slightly when he saw you leaving.

What you didn’t know was that San had been trying to get your attention for months.

It started small; him choosing the seat closest to you in Modern Literature, enough that you could smell his cologne -something expensive and woodsy that probably cost more than your textbooks-. He’d lean forward sometimes, seemingly to pick up a dropped pen or retrieve something from his bag, and you’d catch a glimpse of his concentrated expression as he took notes.

“Hey,” he said one day after class, catching up to you in the hallway. Your heart did an involuntary skip as you turned to face him, taking in his casual but perfectly put together outfit. Designer jeans that fit just right and a simple white shirt that somehow looked incredible on him.

“Oh, hi San.” You shifted your bag higher on your shoulder, suddenly aware of your worn-out sneakers and the coffee stain on your sweater sleeve.

“I was wondering if you wanted to grab coffee sometime? There’s this new place very close to campus that’s supposed to be really good.” His smile was charming and hopeful, and for a moment you forgot how to breathe.

But then reality crashed back in. San asking you out? It had to be some kind of mistake, or maybe a dare from his friends.

“That’s really nice of you,” you said slowly, “but I’m pretty swamped with assignments right now. Maybe some other time?”

His face fell slightly, but he recovered quickly. “Of course, no problem. Another time.”

You hurried away, missing the way he stood there for a long moment, running a hand through his perfectly styled hair with a frustrated sigh.

The attempts continued throughout the semester. San would appear next to you in the campus bookstore, making casual conversation about your shared classes. He’d save you a seat in the lecture hall, waving you over with that brilliant smile. Once, he even showed up at the same study group you’d joined, claiming he needed help with the material. Even though you noticed he seemed to understand everything perfectly well.

Each time, you’d convince yourself it was coincidence. Guys like San didn’t go for girls like you. You were too ordinary, too focused on your studies, too invisible among the sea of perfectly put together college students who orbited around him.

Summer break came and went in a blur of part-time jobs and catching up on sleep. You’d almost forgotten about San’s strange burst of attention toward you, chalking it up to end of semester delirium or boredom.

When you returned to campus for the new academic year, you fell back into your usual routine: early morning classes, afternoons in the library, evenings studying in your dorm room. The first few weeks passed in a comfortable haze of new classes and fresh notebooks.

It was during your third week back that you noticed him. You were in your usual spot in the library. A table tucked away in the corner of the second floor, surrounded by towering bookshelves that provided the perfect amount of privacy for serious studying. Perfect for your introverted self. You’d just settled in with your laptop and a stack of research materials when someone slid into the chair across from you.

“Sorry, is it okay if I sit here? Everywhere else is full.”

You looked up, ready to politely agree, and froze. The guy across from you was… so pretty. Not in the flashy, attention-grabbing way you were used to seeing around campus, but in a quiet, underappreciated way that made you want to keep looking.

His dark hair was unstyled, falling softly across his forehead in a way that looked natural and effortless with his bare face. He wore a simple gray hoodie and black rimmed glasses that framed his kind, intelligent eyes. There was something familiar about the shape of his face, the curve of his smile, but you couldn’t quite place it.

“Of course,” you managed, moving your books to make more room. “I’m Y/N, by the way.”

“San,” he said quietly, and your brain short-circuited.

San... This was San? Gone was the perfectly styled hair, the designer clothes, the confident posture of his that commanded attention. This version of San looked… normal. Approachable. Real.

“San?” you repeated, probably sounding stupid. “Like… Choi San?”

He winced slightly, glancing around as if worried someone might overhear. “Yeah. I know I look different. I was hoping people wouldn’t recognize me right away.”

“Why?” The question slipped out before you could stop it, and you immediately felt heat rise to your cheeks. “Sorry, that’s none of my business.”

“No, it’s okay.” He pushed his glasses up his nose, a gesture that was somehow incredibly endearing. “I just… needed a break from all the attention, you know? It was getting overwhelming.”

You studied his face, noting the way his shoulders seemed more relaxed without the weight of everyone’s expectations. “I can imagine.”

For the first time in two years of sharing classes, you found yourself actually talking to San. Not the campus heartthrob version of him, but this quieter, more genuine person who asked thoughtful questions about your research project and shared his own struggles with balancing academics and personal life.

The library became your regular meeting spot. At first, it was just convenient. You both needed a quiet place to study, and the corner table had room for two. But gradually, those study sessions turned into something more.

San, you discovered, was nothing like the image you’d built up in your head. Yes, he was still unfairly handsome, even hidden behind glasses and oversized hoodies, but he was also incredibly thoughtful. He remembered details about conversations from weeks ago, brought you your favorite drink from the campus café when you mentioned feeling stressed about midterms, and had a dry sense of humor that caught you off guard and made you laugh until your sides hurt.

“I never thanked you properly,” he said one afternoon, looking up from his anthropology textbook.

“For what?”

“For not making a big deal about… this.” He gestured vaguely at himself. “Most people have been doing double takes all semester. Some girl in my sociology class spent twenty minutes trying to figure out if I was really me.”

You smiled, closing your laptop to give him your full attention. “I know It's not really my place to say this but... I like this version of you better, honestly.”

Something shifted in his expressions. Surprise, maybe, or hope. “Really?”

“Really. You seem more… I don’t know. Yourself?”

He was quiet for a moment, fingers playing with the corner of his notebook. “I never felt like myself before. It was all just… a performance to me, you know? Being what everyone expected me to be.”

The vulnerability in his voice made your chest tight. “What made you decide to stop acting?”

San looked up at you through his lashes, and even behind the glasses, his gaze was intense. “A lot of things. But mostly… there was this girl I really wanted to notice me. The real me, the show I was putting on apparently didn't work.”

Your heart stuttered. “Oh.”

“She was always so focused on her studies, so genuine about everything she did. I realized that trying to impress her with the whole cool guy thing was probably the worst possible approach.”

“Probably,” you agreed softly, though your voice sounded distant to your own ears.

He smiled, that same crinkly eyed smile showing his dimples, you remembered from the quad, but softer now, more intimate. “I’m hoping she’ll give me a chance now that I’ve figured out how to be myself.”

The implication hung in the air between you, and you felt your cheeks warm under his steady gaze. “San…”

“I know I messed up before,” he continued, leaning forward slightly. “I know you probably thought I was just playing around, or that you were some kind of conquest. But I’ve been interested in you since our first year philosophy class. You were the only person brave enough to argue with Professor Kim about his interpretation of female philosophers .”

You laughed, startled. “You remember that?”

“I remember everything about you, Y/N. The way you chew on your pen when you’re deep in thought, how you always sit in the third row because you think it’s the perfect distance from the board, the fact that you only drink coffee before 2 PM because it keeps you up otherwise.”

Your breath caught. All those little interactions you’d dismissed as coincidence suddenly took on new meaning. “You were paying attention.”

“I was always paying attention. I was just very bad at showing it.”

“So,” you said carefully, trying to ignore the way your heart was racing, “what exactly are you asking me?”

San’s confidence seemed to waver slightly, and he ran a hand through his unstyled hair a gesture you were beginning to recognize as a nervous habit. “I’m asking if you’d like to go on a date with me. A real one, where we can just be ourselves and see if this thing between us is what I think it is.”

You looked at him, really looked at him. At the way his glasses had slipped down his nose again, at the tiny hole in the sleeve of his hoodie, at the genuine nervousness in his expression that the old San would never have let show.

“Okay,” you said simply.

His face lit up. “Okay?”

“Yeah. But I have conditions.”

“Name them.”

“No fancy restaurants or expensive gestures. And definitely no bringing me flowers in front of half the student body.”

San laughed, and the sound was warm and unguarded. “Deal. How do you feel about terrible coffee and old bookstores?”

“Perfect.”

Your first official date was exactly that-terrible coffee from a hole-in-the-wall café near campus and two hours wandering through a cramped bookstore where San revealed an unexpected passion for mystery novels and you bonded over your shared love of marginalia in old textbooks.

It was awkward at moments, both of you trying to navigate this new dynamic, but it was also easy in a way you hadn’t expected. San was funny and self-deprecating, admitting to the ridiculous lengths he’d gone to try to impress you during sophomore year.

“You showed up to my study group,” you accused, nudging his shoulder as you browsed the philosophy section.

“I may have asked around about your schedule,” he admitted sheepishly. “And then panic-studied for three hours before each session because I was terrified you’d realize I didn’t actually need help.”

“You were so obvious! I thought you were just really bad at statistics.”

“I am really bad at statistics. But I’m also really good at pretending to be even worse when it means spending time with you.”

The confession was delivered with such earnest charm that you couldn’t help but laugh, and something warm and hopeful unfurled in your chest.

Dating San was nothing like you’d imagined it would be. There were no grand gestures or public displays that would have made you uncomfortable. Instead, it was built on small, quiet moments that felt perfectly suited to both of you.

He’d save your favorite spot in the library and have your preferred tea waiting when you arrived for study sessions. You’d find little notes tucked into your textbooks, terrible jokes or doodles that made you smile during particularly boring lectures.

The physical affection developed slowly too. It started with accidentally bumping hands when you both reached for the same book, then progressed to San shyly taking your hand as you walked across campus. The first time he kissed you, it was after you’d been dating for three weeks, and it happened in the stacks of the library when you’d made a particularly clever observation about your shared literature assignment.

“Sorry,” he whispered against your lips, glasses slightly askew. “I’ve been wanting to do that for a really long time.”

“Don’t apologize,” you whispered back, reaching up to straighten his frames. “But maybe warn me next time so I can be prepared.”

“Prepared for what?”

“For how much I like kissing you.”

The smile that spread across his face was radiant, and when he kissed you again, soft and sweet and perfect, you thought that maybe sometimes the best things were worth waiting for.

THE END

BONUS PART:

“I still can’t believe you didn’t recognize him,” Mina said, shaking her head as she watched San approach your usual table at the college café with two cups of tea and what looked like homemade cookies.

“I recognized him,” you protested.

“After he told you his name. That doesn't count”

“I was distracted by how cute he looked in glasses.”

San slid into his seat across from you, pushing one of the tea cups in your direction and the other towards Mina. “My mom sent cookies,” he announced. “Fair warning: she may have put too much love in them. They’re aggressively sweet.”

You bit into one and made an exaggerated face of delight that made him laugh. Over the past year, you’d learned that San’s quiet confidence was far more attractive than his previous persona had ever been. He still turned heads when he walked across campus -his good bone structure was hard to hide, even behind wire rimmed glasses- but he seemed genuinely oblivious to the attention.

“How’s the paper coming?” he asked, settling in with his own books.

“Better now that my research partner is here,” you said, and was rewarded with that soft, crinkly eyed smile that still made your heart skip.

San reached across the table to brush a cookie crumb from the corner of your mouth, the gesture casual and intimate and perfectly them. “Good,” he said simply. “I like being helpful.”

As you settled into your afternoon routine-books spread across the table, feet tangled together underneath it, the comfortable silence of two people who’d found their perfect study partner-you couldn’t help but think that the best things really did come to those who waited.

Even if sometimes you needed a complete makeover to see what had been right in front of you all along.

A/N: Hii, hello again. There are so many drafts of mine that I can barely decide which ones to release first- or even release at all. The poll i posted seems to be going in favor of Jongho. And since I've already written it with him in mind I just need to read and edit it to finally post it. That doesn't mean that I didn't start writing ff with office worker manbun yeosang -I'm just too inspired to not to- ㅇㅅㅇ

🫟 Reblogs&comments&tags&likes are appreciated they really give me motivation to post more♡

[rems-writing]

I always think about Jongho manhandling me

thinking abt jongho manhandling

[rems-writing]

FOOLING YOU AND FALLING TOO, kim mingyu.

📁 content: when your bestfriend gets set up in a blind date by her parents, she reaches out to you for a plan— go to the date, pretend to be her, and scare him off. 📁 genre: fluff 📁 warnings: none 📁 notes: hello :3

"all you have to do is go there and scare him away—easy peasy"

when your bestfriend confides to you about a favor, you had nothing to expect. she was from a wealthy family—her parents always sent shivers down your spine whenever both of you would run into them in public.

wealthy people often buy questionable objects and do drastic things—one of which is setting up their single 24 year old daughter with a guy whose family is a potential business partner.

so when she runs to you, ranting about her disgust, she reaches about a favor.

it was to go to the blind date posing as her, scare off the poor lad, and all is well.

despite your deep refusal of the plan—all memories of her sticking up to you and being there all the time by your side tells you that you cant just say no. besides, this will be your little 'thank you' for all the help she gave the past years of your friendship.

"but what if your family finds out about the truth?", you ask, scared for your life at this point in time. "dont worry—ill scare them away too", she replies confidently.

"from tomorrow and tomorrow only, you will be me—kim jisoo", her hand reaches out to you in support.

"you are not a lonely 26 year old who is still struggling to find a job, but you act as me trying to scare off a probably old geezer from marrying me"

that was the ultimate plan—and even if tramples over your moral beliefs and values; you would do anything and everything for her at this point.

"you're kim jisoo, your family is rich but you dont want to marry this man so you will scare her off", you whisper to yourself for the past 10 minutes since your initial arrival.

the venue of the so called date was in a restaurant that jisoo and her family frequented—almost too much that they could totally be the brand ambassador of this place. it was located in the city, the grand music and shining chandeliers decorated the place nicely—far different from the small eatery you treated as your home ever since.

you were mesmerized. your eyes wandered around the restaurant; the image of families, business meetings, and dates by wealthy people discarded the life you are used to.

it was as if saying that today—and only today that you are able to experience the life of those people. while they are sick of their wealth and influence; you in contrast is still battling to get out of a hard situation they never got to live.

"when the hell is this guy gonna come", you hiss to yourself, looking at the time. he was almost 20 minutes late from the initial discussed time.

a blind date, how stupid.

there wasnt much you knew and was informed about jisoo's arranged partner—and you hoped he didnt have the basics to her life as well as to not blow your cover.

you had rehearsed your lines. you even practiced chewing gum obnoxiously in the mirror. but as the minutes dragged on, the air around you thickened with something heavier than nerves. guilt. fear. the creeping truth that one wrong word could expose you. you didn’t know his world. you barely belonged in it.

you weren’t jisoo. not even close.

and then—

"apologies for being late."

the words floated through the air like a quiet breeze before a storm.

you looked up—and your heart stilled.

standing in front of you was a tall gentleman—devastatingly composed. his black suit fit, a glint of a luxury watch peeked out beneath his cuff, and his black hair was perfectly parted, not a strand out of place.

he bowed slightly, then met your gaze with eyes that didnt waver.

“i hope i didn’t keep you waiting too long.”

you opened your mouth, but nothing came out. he pulled out the chair across from you and sat with the kind of grace that made it clear—he had done this before.

too many times, probably.

you were too stunned to even begin your act yet he smiled politely. “you must be jisoo". it was like switch that flipped inside of you, bringing you back to the reality of the situation.

you swallowed, “that’s right.”

he nodded once, as if filing that answer away. then he leaned slightly forward, "my name is mingyu, kim mingyu". mingyu reached his hand out to you—yours taking his gently with a shy shake.

"shall we order something?"

the dinner was a spread. full of dishes that you cant even pronounce most of the time. there were unfamiliar cuisines and ingredients that contrasted poorly with your usual meals. but despite this odd feeling—you were at home in stuffing your stomach.

now the atmosphere feels cold. there wasnt any words said nor a conversation that lasted for 5 or more lines between the two of you.

there would be moments where you'd look up at him to see him already looking at you, a warm smile etched on his face afterwards. to which you'd dismiss almost immediately—playing the uninterested role.

"ive been meaning to ask about how your family is doing", mingyu asks all of a sudden, taking another sip of water.

your eyes widened at his question, rambling to yourself as you try to find the right words to say. "they're doing great", you nervously chuckle. mingyu in response looked confuse, "really? so your father already got out of the hospital?"

fuck. it was a key detail that bummed you.

"uhm yeah! he's doing great as i said", you muttered, voice faltering slowly. mingyu tilted his head slightly, setting his glass down with the quietest clink. “i see”, he said, softly.

you were getting nervous every second. you were sweating profusely and your mind was running in circles. in your mind, you thought that maybe if you played this sudden act—not someone who is bored, but someone who looks like they dont know what they were doing—maybe he'd call of the date.

but looking at him, it wasnt fair to make things complicated from the get go.

"sorry", you start, feeling weak. "what about?", he asks.

"this is my first time doing these kinds of things, 's not really my field", a short chuckle escapes your lips. mingyu nodded, "me neither", he confessed.

your elbow found its way to the table, your face resting softly against your knuckles as you let out a sigh— "i guess that's the only thing we have in common"

he follows your posture afterwards, glancing at you intently. your eyes meet in subtle moments, dazed and confused on your side while his started to warm up. "can i ask you something?", he says.

"sure. what do you want to ask me?"

"does the real jisoo hate me? that's why she sent you as her replacement?"

you blinked. once. twice. a nervous laugh left your lips, too quick, too light. “what are you talking about?”

your heart was already racing—beating against your ribcage like it wanted out. you straightened slightly in your seat, forcing a smile, willing yourself to keep composed. “i'm jisoo, the one jisoo.”

he watched you in silence for a beat. two. his expression didn’t change, but something in the air between you shifted—quieter now, heavier somehow.

“you know,” mingyu said, leaning back in his seat, his tone still calm, but firmer this time. “when you grow up in a family like mine—you don’t walk into situations like this blindly.”

you blinked again, your smile fading. “i ran a background check,” he said simply, as if he was having a conversation with a friend.

your breath caught. your hand clasp with each other, bowing your head down as you rubbed your palms— "im very sorry! im not jisoo! she's my friend! she doesnt want to be here so she asked me to come and scare you off!"

mingyu chuckled. not mockingly, but gently. like someone watching a sitcom unfold in real life. the kind of laugh that made you want to crawl under the table and vanish completely.

“you must be really close if you’d do this for her,” he said, resting his chin on his palm, still smiling. you looked up warily, your lips slightly parted in surprise, “you’re not mad?”

“should i be?”, mingyu asked, eyes twinkling with quiet amusement, “you didn’t exactly do a great job at scaring me off.”

you groaned softly, covering half your face with your hands. “this is so embarrassing. i thought if i acted uninterested enough, you’d get up and leave. i didn’t expect you to just—stay and ask about her dad.”

“well, if it makes you feel better", he leaned back in his seat. “you were convincing for about two minutes". you peeked at him through your fingers. “two?”

“okay, maybe one and a half.”

you let out a defeated laugh, pressing your hands over your warm cheeks. mingyu tilted his head, watching you— “so why’d you say yes to helping her”

you lowered your hands slowly, letting out a quieter sigh this time. “we've been friends for a very long time and i feel bad for her” you paused, voice softening. “her family has been very controlling of her life so she wanted to steer away from the usual”

mingyu nodded, his gaze softening in turn, “and here i thought i was just that bad of a date.”

you looked at him quickly, flustered— “no! it’s not you! you’re actually—” you stopped yourself before the words ran too far. “i mean, i just wasn’t supposed to be interested.”

he raised a brow, “but you are?”

“no!” you said too fast, “i mean—i’m not! i mean—ugh.”

his laughter was full this time, tipping his head back slightly. all his expression and amusement cowered over you biting the inside of your cheeks in embarassment.

“you’re not very good at pretending, you know", he said through his smile. “i noticed,” you muttered under your breath.

a soft silence settled between you for a beat. not awkward, not tense—just calm. mingyu’s fingers brushed along the edge of his glass, his eyes returning to yours.

“can i ask your name?” he asked suddenly. you looked up, “why? are you planning to report me for fraud?”, a frown formed in your lips.

mingyu chuckles and shakes his head, "no i wont. i just want to know"

"you still want to know?"

“of course,” he said, simply. “i’ve been talking to her all night.”

your lips parted slightly, “its _____,” you said, finally.

mingyu nodded, as if tucking it somewhere safe. “_____,” he repeated, dragging it out slowly as you felt like crawling to a hole and die. “it suits you better than jisoo.”

this dinner wasnt initially supposed to last more than fifteen minutes. it was supposed to end with this man—mingyu—running out of the restaurant and calling his parents that they set him up with a the most insufferable woman ever.

yet here you were, still seated across from a stranger who somehow, despite knowing everything—chose to stay.

the evening air had cooled by the time you stepped out of the restaurant, streetlights casting a golden hue on the pavement. you hadn’t expected him to walk with you—but there he was, matching your pace as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

despite your best efforts to call it a night and act like nothing had happened—mingyu decided to follow you around for awhile. even if you wanted to forget about the whole situation, you found him walking silently behind you the whole time.

in old fashion, a rich man walks his million dollar shoes along the cracked concrete. mingyu trailed along with you in tight alleyways, poor neighborhoods, and the noisy life which is far different from his world.

he would look back from time to time with a smile on his face, an assuring glimpse while you met him with the most fabricated one.

this is absurd.

you stop in your tracks, your worn out sandals dragged on the pavement. mingyu noticed and stopped as well, turning his body towards your direction.

"whats the matter?", he asked simply.

you had grown irritated as the time stretches. this whole situation took a very complicated path—creating an atmosphere of doubt and nervousness in your path.

was he toying with you? putting you in a situation to use against you? was he gonna report you afterwards? all those things rambled through your mind.

"if you have a plan to report me for what happened, i hope you have the time to change your mind", you said simply and serious. mingyu chuckles and sighs, "_____, its okay. im not trying to report you or anything so dont worry about that"

"then why are you doing this?"

"doing what?"

"why are you still here? wouldnt it be better to just forget about everything? for jisoo's sake and yours too?", your voice lowers, barely audible— “i just thought it would be easier that way.”

mingyu looks at you for a long while, eyes unreadable but soft, “what if i don’t want to forget?”. you opened your mouth, then closed it again.

what could you possibly say to that?

the atmosphere was dreading. the warm streetlights, the faint sound of dogs barking in the distance, the crickets hosting an opera louder as usual, his soft gaze meeting with you, and your heartbeat that fastens every second.

"_____, is it okay that i start seeing you from now on?", mingyu tried to smile, soft and casual, but his fingers twitched at his side—betraying the anxiety he felt underneath.

your breath hitched. you didn’t expect him to say that. you blink rapidly, heart pounding, "you shouldnt say things like that"

“why not?”

your eyes met his again—wary and confused—and he swore his heart skipped.

mingyu smiled faintly, trying to keep his nerves in check, “the truth is, ive grown quite interested in you", he chuckled gently, rubbing the back of his neck.

“im saying that if youre not jisoo, then im glad. i want to keep knowing the real you", he takes a step forward, mere inches separating you and him.

“but you’re supposed to meet her—not me,” you mutter, voice small, uncertain. your gaze drops to the ground, afraid that if you meet his eyes again, you might start believing he actually means it.

mingyu doesn’t move for a moment. just looks at you—like he’s trying to memorize this exact version of you: flustered, hesitant, eyes full of questions.

then, quietly, gently— “i think that’s god’s way of answering my prayers.”

your brows knit, looking up at him in confusion, “what?”

mingyu lets out a soft chuckle, one hand rubbing the back of his neck like he’s embarrassed to say it out loud. “before i came here, i didn’t know what to expect,” he admits, voice steady. “i wanted to meet someone i might have interest in—despite the circumstances of how we met.”

you stare at him, the weight of his words slowly unraveling in your chest. this isn’t what you expected. not tonight. not from him.

he shifts a little, eyes crinkling at the corners as he continues, “i’m glad that your friend didn’t want her life to be written for her. i’m glad she went to you for help. and i’m glad you accepted it.”

the air feels different now—charged with something fragile and warm. you don’t know what to say, so you don’t. you just listen.

“meeting jisoo might have been the plan,” he murmurs, gaze softening, “but you’re the person i was supposed to meet.”

your lips part, but no words come out.

mingyu smiles, almost sheepishly, eyes flicking between yours. “so, if it’s alright with you,” he says, voice dropping just a bit lower, more vulnerable, “can i keep seeing you?”

the night wraps around you both like a secret, as if the world decided to slow down just for this one moment, where two strangers met by mistake.

due to jisoo's own accountability of her life, she gave you way to what could be a love that transcends through time. one that chooses to stay genuine and evolve into something more.

the plan was supposed to fool kim mingyu, but even still— he found himself falling too.

[rems-writing]

shibal